#i probably would have enjoyed more if i read the story but... should a tv show not stand on its own?

[marvelouslizzie]

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

[tbaluver]

HIIII ,can I request headcanons when the reader likes to play video games and sometimes spend too much time on them ,and how will LaDs boys react , or will they play with her ?

Take your time!

Have a nice day/ night σ(≧ε≦σ)

When You're A Gamer- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff and silly a/n: HIII anonnie !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i hope this was okay i added a couple more like if you were a gamer and also i didn't know how to title this which is why it takes me so long to post (╥﹏╥) anyways i hope you enjoy reading and i hope you have a nice day/ night angel ! (˘ ³˘)♥ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He watches you play and sometimes joins whenever he can whether it’s multiplayer or you let him try it out. He'll bring snacks and water and offers to feed you while you play.

Your cheerleader from the sidelines. Whenever you get stressed on a certain level or puzzle or anything competitive, he'll always cheer you on and tell you that you're doing so well. When you do win or complete something, he'd be so proud of you! He'll have a soft smile, peppering multiple sweet kisses on your face.

Tries to help you as much as he can with anything puzzle or choice-story based games. But when you both give up, he'll end up looking it up for the both of you.

Whenever the game gets too challenging, he'll offer some gentle massages or that you should rest your eyes, leaving both of you to cuddle and unwind together, easing away the stress.

When you play video games on the living room TV, he would position himself between your thighs, watching your gameplay. It wouldn’t take him long to drift off to sleep with his head resting comfortably against your tummy.

Zayne:

He doesn’t mind it but he will remind you often to make sure to stretch when you play for too long and that you eat and drink plenty of water. And he will most definitely scold you if you miss your meals because you didn’t want to lose a round in a game

He’ll make sure to leave snacks and water by you whenever you’re playing a video game. Sometimes he’ll leave a blanket or drape a cozy blanket over you before returning to his laptop to work, ensuring you’re comfy while he focuses on his tasks.

He'll sit right beside you, gently massaging one of your free hands. Zayne is always attentive to your well-being, so whenever you lose a game or whenever the game becomes too challenging, he'll suggest taking a short walk outside to get some fresh air and to stretch your legs.

He does get curious when he sees you on your console or pc. He hears you laughing or possibly raging about a game and he wants to know what’s happening. When you let him try out a game, he’ll prefer to watch you first before trying it out.

It’s honestly cute when he’s focused. He’d listen to your guidance and he’s a very patient learner, he never gets frustrated whenever he doesn’t get something right the first time. Eventually he quickly picks up the mechanics of each game, often surpassing your skills in no time! He just has natural hand-eye coordination.

Rafayel:

He’s probably the most out of these four to be bothered that you play video games a lot. He’s literally offended that you think spending all your time playing video games is a better time than spending time with him but he’s literally busy with his paintings whenever you're on your game.

Eventually he will cave and join in and watch you. Until he wants to play. and he. does. not. give. the. controller. back. until he wins. He would look at you with a pout whenever he loses, hoping you would erase that from your memory.

He’s actually not bad at playing video games and mostly wins whatever games you play. However, if it was a gacha game and you ask him to do your pulls because he’s your ‘good luck’ charm, his ego would soar. But if he ends up losing your 50/50, he’ll blame you and it was definitely not because of him that he lost.

You two would stay up so late playing, immersed in gaming. Most of the time he’d simply watch you play, offering some enthusiasm and being your cheerleader or sometimes he’d be your backseat gamer. He’d be right beside you, shaking you in excitement and pointing at the screen, completely immersed with you in the game.

Over time, he picks up your gaming lingo and eventually incorporates it into your conversations and text messages, sometimes leaving Thomas confused about the nonsense you two talk about.

Sylus:

He would pass by the living room and see you and the twins playing video games and he would be a little curious. He doesn’t understand at first what's so intriguing about it but then suddenly he’s doing that dad stance by the tv, clearly intrigued. He’d be mostly intrigued if it were games that involved fighting or action and he would be SAT on that couch watching you play.

He’d likely point out that the guns and fighting strategies in those games aren’t very realistic. But he’s also very quick to praise you, cheering you on whenever you land a perfect shot or execute a great move. A skilled hunter in person and in game? He’s impressed and very proud of his girl.

He’d have his arm relaxed against the back of the couch while you rest your head in his lap, engrossed in your game. He loves listening to you share your thoughts about the games you play, finding it utterly adorable to hear you talk about your many interests. He pays close attention, wanting to remember every detail about it so he can discuss them with you more in the future.

He mostly watches you play and sometimes when you offer to let him play, he'll try it out! He's good at the games because he's watched you enough to see how the games work and he's listened to you talk about it a lot! But when he loses really badly, he's kind of a sore loser, making up excuses how the game isn't as realistic in real life.

Sylus will buy things to make your gaming setup more comfortable! Knowing how often you game, he’ll surprise you here and there with a better gaming chair or a headset, along with any upgrades that will make your gaming experience more comfy!

While he’s away working, he’ll text you reminders to eat and stretch, and let you know when your favorite food is on the way, ensuring you can enjoy a meal while you game.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I really really hate to be that person - especially because I know a lot of people are under the impression that fanfic authors are greedy and we should be grateful for any comments we get, even if those comments are full of unauthorized concrit, even if they're kind of rude, even if they're weirdly self-shaming (sometimes insinuating that people should feel bad over reading the dark or smutty content in the fics or that we should feel bad for writing it in the first place even though you're also reading it??).

But like, lately, I have been getting so many comments along the lines of "this fic should be longer!!" "I wish this was a series!!" "please turn this into a series!" "I would read endless sequels of this!!!" - today someone literally commented on one of my fics saying that it was a war crime that the fic was 30k instead of being 'a whole series'. And I totally understand the mindset that if something is good, you want more of it. If you enjoy something, you want more of it. But these comments are definitely not as flattering as people think they are.

When reading those comments - it doesn't always come off as a compliment. Most of my fics range from 5k to 30k on average, and they are usually oneshots or oneshots that I have split into multiple parts in order to be more readable - most of my longer, ongoing series are abandoned because I didn't have the steam to maintain them. (Most people don't know at all how hard it is to write a good, coherent, well-plotted 100k fic and actually keep up with it.) After I post the fic I have written later this week, I will have written over 400k this year alone, with my entire AO3 having over one million words split between 79 different fics.

So often, having people look at my fics and having their only comment be to 'write more' - feels like an insult. Because I do write more. I have written more. I write consistently. (It just sucks that people have almost nothing to say about what I have already written.)

Having people look at my fics - usually very long fics - and go "hey, this would be better if it was longer!!" or "hey, that was good, but the only productive thing I have to say about it is: make it longer" - it always feels very discouraging.

It doesn't make me want to rush to write more of that fic. In fact, most of the time, I actively avoid working on sequels to fics where the only comments are 'more please' because I know the only thing people will say about the sequel is 'when are you gonna make more?' - and oftentimes, I don't intend to make more.

I have said this in another post, but the ending to my fics are always intentional. I don't write fics with the mindset of turning them into a 100 part series. I write fics with the mindset of making them like a film or a short TV series - telling a capsule of a story with a very intentional beginning, middle, and end. And if I write a sequel, it's because I feel there is more to be told - but I will also cap off that sequel with a very intentional ending.

(Also, don't get me started on the complex of - if fics don't have the classic 'happy ending' people feel like every single thread needs to be resolved until it gets to a more classic happy ending, when I love writing intentional melancholic and thoughtful endings.)

Also - in general, I feel like people don't understand how much work goes into a fic. It might take you about 2 hours to read a fic that's 30k (and a lot of people who are avid readers probably read faster than that, reading it in an hour or less) - but concepting that fic, writing that fic, and meticulously editing that fic so that it can be readable and pleasant for people takes upwards of 20 hours of work. I would say realistically, upwards of 30 hours. And those are just working hours - hours sitting at the computer actively working. That doesn't include the time spent in between workshopping the ideas in my head while I am doing other mundane tasks in life.

It's very, very easy to consume a 30k oneshot in one sitting and then hold out your plate and go "more please!!" without putting any thought into how much work went into the original fic.

All of this just to say - please think about these things next time you are commenting on a fic (or even closing a fic without commenting at all), or doing something stupid like generating a fic with AI - which steals from everyday hard working fanfic writers. Fanfiction is hard work - it's a labour of love, and it shouldn't be about blind consumerism where you finish one and then rapidly start looking for the next one. You should appreciate each one like a good, hand pulled taffy instead of gobbling them all down like cheap candy mass made by factory machines.

Yeah - I think that's it.

-your local over worked (but still passionate) fanfic writer

[loveandmurders]

So I read your 'What Soulmate AU for which slasher?'

And I was wondering if you could write a story for Billy Loomis?

On your wrist: "You gonna die tonight, love"

On their wrist: "And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer" 

Hello love and THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!!! Gosh, I've been so excited to write for it, so I hope you'll enjoy it very much <3

Request based on this post.

GHOSTFACE IS MY SOULMATE (Billy Loomis x female reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, morally grey reader, mentions of sexual desire, mentions of killing, Billy plans on killing you, a few strong words.

You were on your own that night. Your parents were out for a little dinner together; they were celebrating their wedding anniversary. You didn’t mind having the house all to yourself for once. You had cooked some noodles, as you were too lazy to do more, and you were distractedly watching TV. Actually, you were barely listening to whatever that was happening on the screen, as your eyes were on your wrist. Your fingers were tracing the words on your skin. Your family and friends always tease you for the first sentence your soulmate would ever say to you: You’re gonna die tonight, love. 

And you had to admit, you didn’t really get it.

Everyone had some “normal” stuff such as “Hey, my name is” or “Hey, I love your dress” or “It’s been a while I wanted to ask you out”. But no, you apparently couldn’t do the boring stuff and you had to have something about love and death. You weren’t too sure if it was a threat to be honest. It could be a sentence said during halloween for instance, or during a horror convention. You loved horror movies, so your family thought that you were gonna meet a guy or a girl or someone doing some slasher cosplay. You wanted to believe that too. It would be too strange for your soulmate to actually want to kill you, right? 

Plus you didn’t really see yourself like the kind of person who could attract serial killers; you weren't Sidney Prescott. You weren’t attracting troubles usually. In fact, your love for horror movies and gruesome stories had always surprised your relatives, because you seemed too sweet to enjoy that kind of thing.

You continued to stare at your wrist. Alright, your soulmate must also like horror stuff and probably enjoyed cosplays. It sounded like a fun soulmate, right? And the nickname showed that they were quite flirtatious. It sounded even better! 

You sighed as you stroked the “tonight” word. You couldn’t count all the time you hoped it would indeed be that night. So many of your friends had already met their mates, and even your parents found each other before your age. You started to worry. Of course, you still had a lot of time and some of your friends didn’t even have one word on their skin because their soulmate died before they met. You thought you were lucky that yours was still around, but you were getting impatient. Your parents told you you should date people even if they weren’t your soulmate, but it felt strange for you. You only wanted them, and no one else. It felt too wrong to kiss someone who wasn’t meant for you. Maybe you were too loyal and romantic.

You sighed once again, nibbling on your food. You tried to focus on the TV, so you would stop thinking about your soulmate. You relaxed a little and you told yourself that you needed to be patient, that one day you would find them and everything would be soft and happy. You grabbed the TV remote and you tried to find something good to watch. What was good when your parents weren’t home or close by was that you could watch whatever you wanted… Including very bloody and violent movies. You had always tried to play it cool about your love for horror movies and especially about slashers, but deep down, nothing was making you hornier than a big killer destroying life for the sake of it.

If you were really honest with yourself, you would admit you were a little bit jealous of the attention Sidney got from Ghostface. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t think something like that. But it sounded very hot. Such a pity you weren’t interesting enough for a killer, because you would love to be called in the middle of the night and threatened by a dangerous murderer... 

Damn, you really hoped your soulmate would understand something like that and wouldn’t think you were a weirdo. You tried to remind yourself that your mate couldn’t think something like that, because they would love all of you, even the darkest part of yourself.

You were wondering what Sidney had you didn’t though. You were sighing once again when the house phone rang and you jumped in surprise. You thought your mother was checking on you or that one of your friends wanted to chat around. Your mouth was full with noodles but you still took the phone, not saying a word while you were chewing. You waited for the person to talk, and you had to admit that you had the strange sensation of having eyes on you. It was a little bit unsettling, but you were probably getting paranoid because of your obsession and because of the local news constantly talking about Ghostface. You heard someone heavily breathing into the phone and you felt goosebumps spreading all over your skin. The sound was ominous and for an instant you had the sensation of being in one of your favourite horror movies. You swallowed your food and continued to wait for the person to speak. Your heart was beating so fast, as if you knew something was going to happen.

“You’re gonna die tonight, love” the stranger finally said and you rolled your eyes, almost face palming yourself.

“And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer” you grumbled. There was a moment of silence after that. “Hey, you’re still there?” you asked

“You’re really messing my plans up, you know that I hope” the killer you guessed was Ghostface grumpily said

“Well, sorry about that… You can still kill me though” you teased. Truth to be told, knowing that your soulmate was a serial killer was making things a lot easier for you; you wouldn’t need to hide your liking for dangerous people at all. Fate was doing things well sometimes.

“I really should because you’ve always been a pain; did you really need to call me a “serial killer” in your first words to me? Always had to hide my wrist because of that.” they continued to argue and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little giggle

“Well if you were behaving, I wouldn’t have said that!” you hummed, finding the situation very funny

“You are enjoying yourself way too much, Y/N” Ghostface commented, but you could hear a slight hint of amusement in their voice.

“Maybe.” you smiled “Are you around then?” you asked as you started to look around yourself, trying to find from where the eyes were looking at you

“I am. But I need to find someone else to kill now.” they replied

“Oh, really?” you sounded disappointed “I mean, I’m glad you won’t kill me, but I thought we could meet in person right now?” you asked. You had waited for this moment your whole life, so you weren’t too eager to let them go that easily. Ghostface chuckled.

“So impatient. Don’t worry, love, I’ll be back. Let your room window open and I’ll meet you there in a little while.” they told you

“Promise?” you asked, a little bit worried they were going to disappear from your life now you just found them

“Promise.” they hummed before hanging up

You were on your bed, impatiently waiting for your serial killer. You were trying to read but you couldn’t focus on the words laying in front of your eyes. You parents weren’t back home yet, and you hoped Ghostface was going to show up before they could interrupt anything.

You heard a sound against your wall so you sat up, your heart beating so quickly once more. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nervously played with your fingers. You had to admit that when the infamous Billy Loomis appeared at your window, you couldn’t believe it. You sat at the edge of your bed as he entered the room before leaning against the wall, the head tilted to the side. You watched each other in silence. Your heart calmed down now you were in the same room, and you could feel the bonds linking the two of you growing and becoming even stronger. You had always found Billy particularly hot, but a lot of people in school thought the same, and he knew it. You couldn’t have thought that the man was actually your soulmate. He finally softly smiled at you.

“Staying silent and not being all over me already? That’s good. You would have annoyed me otherwise” he said and you arched an eyebrow at him

“I knew that popularity was making people become assholes,” you teased and he laughed. He was liking you already. You were truly perfect. He had always thought that his soulmate would be afraid of him, or would be a problem in his masterplan, especially when the words on his wrists seemed to mean you knew the truth about him. But he shouldn’t have worried about it.

“You won’t call the police on me?” he asked you, just to make sure. You quickly shook your head.

“Of course not” you replied seriously this time “You’re my soulmate, I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I don’t mind you’re a killer. Actually, I’m not very surprised” you admitted and he smirked

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your little doodles about slashers in class. That’s why I picked you as my next target. I thought I could have some fun with you.” he told you

“You can still have some fun with me… Just a different kind of fun” you winked and he came closer to you, looking like a predator. He cupped your chin to make you look up at him.

“Already playing with fire, love” he hummed, his eyes were so dark and helding all kinds of promises “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me that easily. I was planning on killing you after all” he continued

“Key word: “was”, love” you smiled as you leaned into his touch. His fingers against your skin were sending electricity down your whole body. 

“Touché” he hummed and leaned so your lips were brushing against his. You boldly cupped his face and brought him even closer, so your mouth crashed onto his. He passionately answered your kiss and he made you lay down on the bed as he topped over you. He let you catch your breath for a second before leaning for another kiss. His touch was absolutely intoxicating and you just couldn’t get enough of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you heard him moan against your lips. He seemed to want you as badly as you wanted him. His hands were already freely roaming your body as you tried to press yourself impossibly closer to him.

“Are you gonna make out with me like that at school too?” you couldn’t help to ask, half teasing half serious

“Always” he groaned, clearly in need for more of you

“Thought you were with Sidney” you asked

“Shh, don’t worry, she’s soon to be dead anyways” he replied. His fingers were already under your top.

But you both stilled when you heard the front door being open and your mother calling your name.

“Shit” you mumbled with a pout on your lips. You had forgotten about your parents. Billy stroked your cheek and tried to calm down.

“Go downstairs. Spend some time with them. I’ll wait for them to go to bed to join you once again. You won’t get rid of me that easily” he darkly promised

“Oh yeah?” you teased, but deep down you were so relieved the man didn’t want to leave and was eager to spend as much time as possible with you. “You don’t have anything better to do?” you asked with a little smile.

“You need to make up for disturbing my plans, love” he teased back

“Y/N? You’re upstairs?” your father called for you

“Go, now, I’ll make up to you all you want tonight” you winked at him as you gently pushed him away from you, no matter how awful it felt.

“Promise?” he hummed, already knowing the answer

“Promise, my serial killer” you smiled. He stole another kiss from you before leaving your room.

Hopefully Sidney was going to be dead very soon so your boyfriend would be able to solely focus on you, you thought as you went downstairs, a smile on your face.

“How was your evening, mom, dad? Mine was really great” you said

“Ah yes?” your mother smiled at you, waiting for you to elaborate

“I think I’m in love” you hummed, your head full of love, death, kisses and chaos.

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 8/2/2024 Issue (No.15) ft. Kamen Rider Gotchard Cast Members (translation below)

Publication: July 17, 2024

The film version for the currently airing "Kamen Rider Gotchard" will finally release in theaters! We heard alot from the six main cast members on the highlights of the film and each other's future!

"What were your thoughts after reading the script?"

Motojima: I was very excited, as it felt like a side story to Kamen Rider Gotchard. In this film, the process of how past Houtaro became Kamen Rider Gotchard Daybreak is carefully depicted, so please pay attention to it.

Matsumoto: It was so moving, that tears would start flowing every time I read the script. I did my best to convey those emotions into my performance so that those who watch feel the same way.

Fujibayashi: When I first read it I thought, "Huh? Is Spanner even here?!" (laughs), but as I kept reading, it wasn't like that at all. In this film, I play a double role, which I think doubled the highlights, and personally, I felt a great sense of accomplishment after filming.

Abe: As it's a story that goes back and forth between the past and future, I found some parts to be alittle difficult to follow. However, as Reiyo-chan said, there are many scenes that moved me and gave off an intense feeling that only a film can give.

Tomizono: I also want to see this film on the big screen in theaters. I think one of the highlights is seeing how the characters who also appear in the TV series will affect the future in which the film takes place.

Kumaki: That's for sure. Those of you who have seen the TV series will recognize some things that'll make you think, "That thing from back then!," and I'm sure that you'll enjoy the film while reflecting on these various things.

"This time, DAIGO-san will make a guest appearance as "future Houtaro," who transforms into Kamen Rider Gotchard Daybreak."

Motojima: I was nervous before we even appeared together, but he was very kind to me. I could feel how much he cared about the character of Ichinose Houtaro. I was really happy that we were able to create this one role together.

Matsumoto: While they play the same Houtaro character, his personality and way of thinking are slightly different in the present and future. As Rinne, I was saddened at times by these differences, but I was able to empathize with him because I got to see Motojima-san and DAIGO-san's passionate performance up close. The two of them inspired me, and it also made me want to work harder, so I'm very grateful.

Fujibayashi: Ah! Junsei looks embarrassed!

Motojima: I didn't know you thought that way…that makes me happy!

"Now then, the theme of this film is related to the future. Please make a prediction about each other's futures."

Abe: I think that Kumaki-san will appear in a period drama.

(everyone but Abe & Kumaki): Oh~!

Abe: He's got a stern face, and I feel that a kimono would look good on him.

Kumaki: Oto-chan is both an actress and model, and her expressiveness is powerful, so I believe that she'll eventually become a top actress. With how sexy she is, it's hard to believe she's only in her early 20s, and I think she'll become an even more attractive actress as she gets older.

Fujibayashi: Well then, I'll talk about Rikiya. Even now, I think Rikiya has an androgynous aura to him, and I actually think that's precisely his strong point. That's why I hope he'll challenge himself to continue moving forward as he is now and become a one of a kind actor.

Tomizono: That makes me happy. I'm gonna make a big assumption that Yasu will continue to be an actor, and that he'll probably be traveling around the world (laughs).

(everyone but Tomizono & Fujibayashi): We can see that happening!

Tomizono: I think he's the type of person who always wants to try new things, so regardless of the country or location, he should be a globally active actor.

Motojima: I think that Reiyo-chan's crying performance is appealing. Her smile is cute, but her worried facial expression is also wonderful, so I'd like to see her play a two sided role that evokes the positive and negative of her character.

Matsumoto: When we were filming the scene where I become possessed by Zukyumpire, I thought about how Motojima-san would also be a good fit for 2.5D productions and roles, so I definitely want to see you challenge yourself to them!

Motojima: I might give it a try. I look forward to all of our futures!

[igotanidea]

A men's talk : Jason Todd x reader

Christmas bingo day 24 : christmas market

A/N: I'm sorry for all the spellings that might be there! The preparations are crazy today and I;m in a hurry! Nonetheless enjoy the story and MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

***

Y/N was a master planer.

Every year, before Christmas she has prepared a list of things to do and connected them to day on which should be done.

Any every year it worked perfectly, everything was ready right on time before anyone loosing their minds during preparations. Until now.

And before I tell you what exactly happened on that particular year, please bare in mind that her boyfriend Jason was way more spontaneous than her and making "to-do" list was definitely not his style.

Now, on that year - Y/N fell sick.

And while she was being busy choking on her lungs and sneezing her brains out Jason was left to follow the detailed instructions of what and when to do. How hard could it have been to just read with understading and fulfil the steps?

Well-

In Jason's head it was an aberration. She couldn't truly have expected him to do the shopping and clean the aparrment while she was fighting for her life right? It was his duty, as a good boyfriend, to put her well-being above christmas preparations. Therefore, instead of checking the boxes he spent his time by her bedside, holding her hand and stroking her head whenever his vigilante duties allowed him to. Y/N's perfectly prepared list long forgoten as he was holding her close and checking her temperature making sure she was ok.

"Did you buy the presents?" she asked softly a few days before the christmas eve, nuzzling into his arms, feeling safe and taken care of.

"Mhm. Yes, yes, absolutely." obviously he didn;t but there was still hell lot of time and Jason was busy with much more important things in the form of loving his girlfriend.

'What about the christmas tree?" she snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth and smoothness of his bare chest, cause even despite the fever she was freezing.

"Obviously baby." he kissed her forehead. In any other circumstances he would be worried about catching the cold from her, but apparently Lazarus Pit gave him some extra immunity and he was taking full advantage of it "don't worry about a thing, I got it all handled. Now rest princess, I'm here. Everything is fine." her hair was silky under his fingers, her body fitting his perfectly - he just couldn't leave the love of his life alone, could he?

The panic started on the day of the christmas eve when he figured that pretty much nothing was done in the apartment. A few emergency calls got him a quite decent christmas tree and some decorations alongside with the basic dishes.

But.

One thing he could not get - and which was an absolute must for Y/N was fish. This was the only dish she was dead set on having on the christmas table.

And it was a problem that forced Jason to leave her and rush to the miraculously-still-open christmas market in hope of acquiring something.

And if you ever watched any movie about the last-minute holiday preparations you probably know all the comedic gags and funny situations portayed there.

Haha... haha... hilarious.

When you see it on TV and not take part in the great fighting for fish with Jason Todd.

Poor guy.

He emerged from the shop with his hair slighly ruffled and his coat askew, pretty sure he lost a few buttons and at least a bif of dignity. But it was all for Y/N and the though made it teeny tiny bit easier to swallow the humiliation. nonetheless he was starting to understand the point of her list, not that he was going to admit it to her out loud.

Nonetheless, he was a champion and was already imagining his girlrfriend's sparkling eyes and happy smile after seving her the perfectly prepared and seasoned fish. Those thoughts consumed him to such extend he was barely paying attention to the surroudning and didn;t notice the unwanted someone following him all the way from the shop to the apartment.

Flexible and sly little fella sneaked behind him into the stairwell and went up the stairs completely unnoticed, hiding in the shadow. He also used the few spare seconds between opening and closing the door to the apartment to penetrate inside the warmth he has been deprived of for so long.

"Y/N! Baby I'm home!" Jason called from the hallway taking off his shoes and coat, completly unaware of the tail he brough home "I'm gonna start cooking now, I got your favourite dish and - fuck!"

"Meow!"

The unexpected visitor seemed to be outraged that his meal was interrupted. The fish was delicious, fresh and even if the cat had to tear off the foil in which it was wrapped, the claws and little sharp teeth was perfect for this task.

"you little -!" Jason hissed grabbing the cat from the floor by his back getting ready to kick him out the door.

"Meow!!" the poor animal cried out desperately over and over again risking dragging y/n out of bed, dragged by the noise.

"shut up!"

"Meow!"

"just shut the-" Jason stopped int he middle of the sentence for the first time truly looking at the being that invaded his space. He took in cat's emaciation - it was pretty much skin and bones. He noticed the dull, dirty fur and the sheer desperation and sadness in those little eyes that were focusing on Jason, showing a mix of readiness to be kicked out and silent begging to be kept even if just for a moment.

"Meow...." this time the sound coming from the tiny shaggy animal was far more pleading and humble. "meow...." the resignation reverberating from every tone broke Jason;s heart at the spot.

"shhh...." he loosened the grip on the cat and started caressing its fur. "shhh kitty. I won't hurt you. it's okay. You're safe here."

The cat acted caucious for a second. After all this man was shouting at him just a minute ago and now was rubbing its tiny body in all the right places and it was so nice and something the cat didn;t get to experience in a long long time while living on the streets and -

That Jason guy couldn't really be this bad, the cat finally decided allowing himself to enjoy the little bit of caressing and purring softly.

The truth was that this unexpected guest reminded Jason of his own time as a shabby kid forced to fend for himself on the street and searching for scraps of food in the dumpsters and other places. Those memories in comparision of what he had now almost made him tear up and holding the cat was the only way to keep his cool. At this point he was sure he'll keep that fella.

There was just one problem -

"Now kitty I wonder how Y/N will react seeing what yo did with her favourite fish...."

"What is going on here? What's all that noice?" the girl finally showed in the corridor and her eyes grew wide at the scene.

***

Jason was torn between fury at the fact that she had willingly given up the fish he had fought so hard for her, and happiness because he had never seen Y/N smiling wider then when she put the cat on her lap and was running fingers through its fur.

And then it hit him.

She was smiling at the cat.

She was rubbing and caressing the cat.

How does that song go?

Jealousy, Jealousy?

A men's talk was going to take place in this household. Soon.

[lemotmo]

I love everyone trying to remind people to remain calm.

Q. I'm going to throw up. For real.

A. There are currently lots of posts being made trying to remind people to breathe so here's mine. We are on episode 5 of an 18 episode season. And people have a LOT of expectations for the next two episodes. There is nothing wrong with wanting things to move quickly but it's not a practical demand. Based on the tuff that has been released so far, I fully expect tonight's episode to end on positive terms for BT. Probably pretty good terms, actually. It would be true to form for the show and for Buck. We may see the beginnings of the cracks but it would be true to form for Buck to choose to look past those for now. I do think we will get some hints tonight though, especially where Eddie is concerned. But people are going to have to be patient. Eddie is not going to come out, shave his mustache and tell Buck he's in love with him all in one episode. And Buck is not going to dump Tommy and tell Eddie he's in love with him all in one episode. That's not going to happen. They're going to drag it out. Eddie being all over their story is a start and if we get actual hints beginning tonight and in episode 6 then everyone will see where things are headed but it won't be told in one or two episodes. And as long as people can see what they're setting up you shouldn't want them to rush through it. I know the audience has been waiting 7 years but Buck and Eddie haven't. Let them have the build up. Let them be awkward and nervous and sure of their individual feelings but unsure if the other shares those feelings. Let them purposely flirt. Let them have looks and touches that linger just a bit longer than they should. Let them PINE. Let the story will they or won't they. We all know they will. That's the better story. The truth is if all of this is heading where most people think it is, then we are just at the beginning. They will take the time they want. Don't make yourselves sick expecting it all to happen in one episode and then convincing yourselves that if it doesn't all happen immediately then it's not happening at all. And always ignore Max Gao, he is a troll who lives to rile you up. If you're not new to 911 then you should be well aware of his game by now. I understand the noise that will come after tonight's episode. And I understand that everyone is over it. But that won't make the show speed up the story. Enjoy the moments you get and just try to ignore the nonsense.

Thank you nonny!

And as for Ali's post?

YES, YES and YES!

Don't expect everything at once. Let the story play out the way it needs to be played out. These characters deserve a good love story for once. Let's not have them rush into this, but let them pine and long for each other. It'll make for better TV and a better shipping experience.

That's all. 😉

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[radiant-reid]

Easter Sunday

a/n: in honor of my favorite holiday and favorite comfort character

Summary: A cute Easter brunch with the team and some Reid babies

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 3.0k

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The sun shining through the large double windows marks the perfect start to the day. The weather forecast has promised sunshine and higher-the-usual temperatures for the holiday weekend. Emily let the team have a five-day weekend as the BAU tradition has dictated for several years. Hotch originally started it, realizing, three months after Christmas, there was a need for family time. 

For the Reid children, things look different now that their dad is home more. He has always been very present, but now he’s at more practices, doing drop-offs and pick-ups, and reading stories at bedtime. Still, their excitement for Easter has been growing, knowing it means uninterrupted time with all of their uncles and aunts.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Spencer greets her from the doorway before she notices he’s not in bed next to her.

He hands her the mug she has every day, filled with perfectly made coffee. He’s the expert at that, so it’s his first task in the morning.

“Thank you, handsome.” She replies, adding to the thanks with a soft kiss on his lips. “It looks like a good day out there.” She notes as he draws the curtain open. 

“It’s meant to be in the high 70s later.” He reports, probably having already skimmed the New York Times.

She grins, sipping her coffee. “Perfect for today.”

“We should host one time,” Spencer suggests.

Y/n chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Rossi would never go for it, and I thought you’d know better than to mess with tradition.” 

He nods, knowing it’s true. “We’ll stick to summer barbeques and birthday parties since it’s the perfect house.”

It’s the type of house Spencer never really saw himself living in. Growing up, he lived comfortably, and thanks to the mortgage being paid off before his dad left, he continued living in a very middle-class area of suburban Las Vegas until he went to school. 

California was more expensive, but between his multiple scholarships, he had enough money to feed himself, always be caffeinated, and live in a small apartment near Cal Tech. He didn’t see the need to spend every cent he had living somewhere fancier, and his mom’s treatment wasn’t fully covered, so he paid for that. 

In DC, his place was simple. He didn’t need anything more than a one-bedroom apartment since he didn’t have family coming to stay, and without any student debt and a good-paying job, he had more money than he needed.

When they moved in together, it was to Y/n’s larger apartment that they eventually brought, and with two bedrooms, there was no need for anything huge until Matilda was old enough to sleep in her own room.

After learning they would have twins their second time, their quickly growing family needed much more space, so they brought their dream house. As much as he wanted it, Spencer never expected to have a family or a large home in the suburbs, but he does now, and every morning, he’s grateful for it.

“True.” Y/n agrees. 

Spencer sits back on the bed next to her, and she throws her legs over his lap, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling into his side as they enjoy a few minutes together in silence before the craziness of their day starts. 

Gurgling on the baby monitor breaks the peace, and the video feed shows Mabel standing up and shaking the crib bars. 

“I’ll go.” Spencer declares, shuffling away from her to get out of bed. “And I’ll get the twins changed.”

Y/n raises her eyebrows, looking impressed with what he’s promising to tackle. “Good luck.” She jokes, grinning at him as she also gets out of bed. 

“I’ve got this.” He assures her. “Go shower and get dressed up.” 

She’s not about to argue with it. Having a shower where she doesn’t get interrupted by little hands banging on the door asking for snacks or to change the TV channel would be a rarity. 

Her new dress is perfect for Easter and spring, long and flowy white fabric with a blue floral pattern and a sweetheart neckline. It’ll look even better with some soft curls in her hair.

Spencer’s first stop is Mabel’s room. The door’s sign says her name, and the bedroom has cute flowers painted on the wall above the crib. “Hi, sweet baby.” He coos, reaching out for his youngest. She still wears her sleep sack to bed, and Spencer thinks it’s the cutest thing.

She squeals when she recognizes him, jumping adorably. “Daddy!” She yells in her sleepy voice. 

He scoops her up, wrapping his arms around her and cuddling her tightly to his chest before kissing her forehead. “You know, I think you might be ready for a big girl’s bed soon.” He tells her.

Mabel rests her forehead against his. “Like Tilda?” She asks, eyes sparkling at the mention of her big sister.

“Just like Matilda and the twins, too.” He answers.

She pulls back from him quickly with excitement. “We go see them?”

“Let Daddy put your pretty dress on you first, and then we can see them.” He tells her. “If they’re awake.” 

They are awake, he discovers when he finally finishes dressing Mabel. She runs ahead of Spencer and climbs the stairs without help to find the three of them in the living room.

“Hi, little people,” Spencer says, announcing himself to them. 

They spin around from the TV, jumping up from where they’re sitting and rushing over to hug him. It’s one of his favorite sights when they get excited that their eyes shine upon seeing him, and one of the best feelings is how warm he feels when they race over and fling their arms around him. He has never felt as much love as he does now, yet somehow, it grows more each day.

“Daddy, it’s Easter!” Matilda cheers. 

“I know.” He says. “Happy Easter.”

“Did the Easter bunny come?” Toby wonders. 

Spencer nods. “Grandpa Rossi called to say he’d dropped off lots of chocolate eggs for all of you.” It’s a lie, technically, but it makes their faces light up all over again, so it’s worth it.

“Are the cousins coming?” Aspen wonders. 

“Henry, Michael, Jake, David, Chloe, Lily, Rose, and Hank is as well,” Spencer lists the other BAU kids and former BAU kid, earning another round of cheers from his kids. “We need to get ready, though. Tillie, your dress is hanging in your wardrobe. Want me to help you, Aspen?”

She shakes her head. “No, I can get changed by myself.”

Independent as always, and something he should have anticipated. “Okay, upstairs and into dresses.” He instructs. “Then you can watch TV. T, you want daddy’s help getting ready?”

“Can you put gel in my hair?” Toby asks. “Mommy says that it looks handsome.”

Spencer chuckles at how cute his little boy is. “Sure, bud.” He agrees. “And it does make you look very handsome.”

It’s always a juggle with four kids, trying to get everyone dressed in time to go anywhere. Mabel can’t be left alone, so Spencer has to multitask between keeping her from running away to cause trouble while doing Toby’s hair and ensuring Aspen and Matilda haven’t gotten distracted. 

“Look how handsome you look.” Y/n coos as she peers into the bathroom where Spencer’s finishing off Toby’s hair. 

“Mommy!” He squeals, jumping off the stool and running over to hug her.

She hugs him back, careful not to ruin his hair. “Hey, bubba, did Daddy do your hair really nice?”

“Mhm.” He answers. 

“You want help getting changed?” She offers, met by him shaking his head, following the independent streak of his older sisters. “Alright, get to it, Mister.” She instructs, sending him off to his room with a pat on the back. Spencer’s eyes stay fixed on her as she stands there, and he rests against the bathroom counter. “What?” She asks shyly.

He smiles softly at her. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It’s just you’re so pretty. I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”

Then Y/n is grinning dumbly, twirling in her dress for him to get the full 360 view. “I might marry you again if you keep being so sweet.”

“Then I’d be the luckiest guy in the world again.” He tells her, walking over and placing his hands on her waist. He just stands there looking at her, admiring every detail of her makeup.

“Stop.” She says, pushing his shoulder. “I love you, Spencer Reid.”

Spencer steals a kiss, careful not to mess up her pink lipstick. “I love you more, Y/n Reid.” 

She shakes her head. “Impossible, but we should debate that later.” She decides. “We’ve got babies to get ready.”

“Yeah.” Spencer agrees. “It’s been oddly silent for a little too long.” 

Thankfully, the silence wasn’t getting-into-mischief silence. Y/n takes over getting the kids ready while Spencer gets himself dressed, and impressively, they’re done five minutes early.

“How you do this every morning is a miracle to me.” He remarks as they make their way out the door. 

“I’m just a super mom.” She jokes, but it’s the truth.

“You absolutely are.” Spencer agrees with her. “The best mom in the world.”

Car rides are possibly louder than being inside, thanks to the enclosed space, but Rossi’s house is only a few minutes drive, and they pull in behind JJ’s car. 

The girls are in pretty pink dresses that’ll no doubt end up covered in grass stains, and Toby’s pastel blue shirt matches Spencer’s. In both Y/n and Spencer’s eyes, they’re the most beautiful children ever.

“Little Reids!” Penelope cheers as soon as they’re through Rossi’s wide-open front door. She’s crouched down to scoop them all up, wrapping them all in a tight hug, looking like the definition of sunshine in her yellow dress. “Aren’t you four just so perfect?” She asks rhetorically as she pulls back to look at them. They are, and their parents nod to answer her confession.

After answering a few of Penelope’s questions, they squirm away to run through the house and greet everyone else. 

“And the perfect parents.” She greets them with hugs as well. 

 Y/n chuckles onto her shoulder. “You look incredible, Pen.” She compliments.

“That’s you, Mrs. Reid.” She replies. “And you’re all matching, just the cutest family ever.”

Spencer grins, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “We kind of are.” He agrees.

“Come on, come see everyone.” Penelope ushers them through the house, taking on the role of secondary host as she usually does at Rossi’s. She and Krystall tag-team the job.

Henry, Michael, Hank, Matilda, Toby, Aspen, and Mabel are waiting in the living room, their little faces pressed against the glass as they look out the big glass doors trying to spot the hidden easter eggs in the garden. 

Everyone’s in their nice clothing, dresses and good shirts with jackets. It’s mostly BAU members Y/n often sees at Rossi’s, but Derek and Savannah have made the trip and quickly hug their old friends.

“Look at you, mama,” Derek remarks. “You’re as gorgeous as ever.”

“And you’re as flattering as ever.” She jokes, nudging his shoulder. “We didn’t know for sure that you’d be coming.”

“Couldn’t miss a family day.” He reminds her.

The Simmons’ walk through the door a moment later, and Rossi flings open the glass doors for the excited children to race outside and start their egg hunt with squeals of delight. 

Y/n gives Rossi a hug as the adults stream outside. “Thank you for hosting another wonderful Easter.”

“You’re always welcome, my dear.” He assures her. “I hope you don’t mind the little Reids going home full of sugar.” He nods to the massive baskets of chocolate and candy each kid carries, almost as big as Mabel. 

“I guess Spencer’s doing bedtime.” She jokes. An hour on the trampoline should do the trick.

“Speak of the devil,” Rossi says, drawing her attention to her husband as he comes waltzing over, holding out an extra mimosa to her.

She takes it appreciatively, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder. “A very handsome devil.” She chuckles, making Spencer blush easily. It’s endearing to her that he reacts the way he did the first time.

“Shall we eat?” Rossi asks, looking around the yard where everyone’s scattered chatting. 

“It almost looks too delicious to eat.” Y/n compliments, looking at the spread.

It’s the gorgeous, perfectly prepared food the team has become accustomed to having at Rossi’s. There are hot cross buns, fresh bread, fruit salad, pastries of all kinds, bacon, eggs, waffles, and all the toppings in the world.

They sit at the adult table, and Spencer’s hand drifts to her knee instinctively. It’s why she sits on his left side each time. The kid table is next to the big one with smaller seats and prefilled plastic cups of juice. Rossi and Krystall are always prepared to entertain.

The kids take their seats, and Y/n momentarily leaves to ensure they’re getting balanced plates and not just gorging themselves on chocolate and candy. 

Then she’s back to Spencer’s side, and they’re talking with the rest of the team, basking in the warmth of the sun and family. It’s what they always have been. Even throughout the darkness they’ve seen over the years, they’re closer than ever, and there’s so much love between them.

After brunch, a few drinks in, and Spencer’s more relaxed, pulling Y/n onto his lap and resting his head on her shoulder while they laugh and joke with the team.  

It doesn’t last too long before someone’s pulling on Spencer’s sleeve. “Daddy, can you look for the Easter eggs in the trees?” Toby asks, showing him his best puppy eyes even though it’s unnecessary since he’d do anything for him.

Spencer looks around the table to see Derek and Matt being asked the same question, all three of them being targeted by their sons for their height. Flashing a curious look at Rossi, Spencer agrees, moving out from under Y/n to join the hunt. 

Rossi and Krystall insist on cleaning up, not wanting their guests to move a muscle, which leaves most of the girls alone at the table since Penelope and Luke are getting drinks and definitely not flirting with each other.

Rose, who has been sleeping so far, starts to cry in her carrier, and Kristy unclips her, pulling her into her arms for cuddles to quiet her. She’s adorable, most similar looking to Jake, in Y/n’s opinion. 

“She’s so tiny.” Y/n remarks off-handedly, looking at the small baby. “What’s it like? Four to five?” 

All eyes are on her in a second, but JJ beats everyone else to speak. “You’re not...”

Y/n shakes her head quickly, stopping that rumor before it can start. “No. No, I’m not.” She assures them, holding up her glass of champagne to prove it. “I’m just wondering.”

“The nights are rough, but diaper changing is still the same,” Kristy answers honestly. “And Mabel’s probably young enough that you’ve got all her stuff. Is it something you’re considering?”

Y/n shakes her head again. “Not until I see a little baby or that.” Her eyes drift to Spencer, who’s chasing Toby and Aspen around the yard. “But we could end up with twins again, and I think six is a little too crazy.” 

Laughter breaks out around the rest of the group, which relieves the seriousness of discussing family planning.

“Here.” Kristy offers Rose to hold, and Y/n takes the baby happily, looking at her adorable face and seeing up close how tiny she is. 

“She’s so precious.” She notes, catching Spencer’s eyes. “Spence, look at how little she is.”

Her address gets Matt and Derek’s attention, who are standing next to Spencer. “Uh oh,” Derek remarks knowingly, smirking at Spencer. 

“Someone’s about to commit to a new baby.” Matt pats him on the shoulder, smirking as well. 

Spencer chuckles, unsure of if it’s true or not. He’ll give her another baby, promised he’d go up to five if she was willing. “Do you think I could pretend I didn’t hear her?” He asks jokingly.

“Get over there, papa bear.” Derek insists with a laugh. 

Dutifully, he walks over, sitting next to Y/n and admiring the baby. “She’s so cute.” He compliments Kristy first.

“Look at how little she is.” Y/n repeats. 

“Yeah, it seems impossible they’re ever this little.” He remarks, earning hums of agreement from the other women sitting around the table who once had babies this little and now have fully grown children running around in the yard. He remembers when his children were that little like it was yesterday, but Rose still looks tiny. “No more, though.” He tells his wife with a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She agrees. “Not when we’re just getting full nights of sleep.”

The party continues into the late afternoon. The company is too good, and too much fun is being had for anyone to leave earlier. 

Despite how much candy they’ve eaten, Aspen and Matilda still manage to eat more in the car on the way home. Y/n agrees they can sleep in the lounge for a sleepover while watching movies, and it takes them far longer than usual to fall asleep, but they do. 

Y/n and Spencer hug in the kitchen as they watch the ending credits. He knows it’s a good chance to ask about what he heard earlier. “Do you actually want another baby?”

She’s taken aback, figuring it was forgotten, but she shakes her head. “Not really, but I think our kids are beautiful, and babies are cute when they’re that little.”

“We’d get more chocolate if we had five.” Spencer jokes, nodding to the baskets on the table and pulling away from her to steal one. 

“Spencer.” She giggles, splitting the chocolate egg with him. “I think we’ve got more than enough. It’ll last us until next year.”

“I love Easter, you know?” He asks rhetorically. “And you, everything we have, our kids, being a dad, brunch.” 

She nods in agreement, leaning up to peck his lips. “I love you, too. Thanks for being in this with me.”

Spencer takes her left hand and kisses her ring finger. “Always.”

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[sensitively-taken]

what's with your kisses? — park sunghoon

synopsis. Park Sunghoon has never had much time or even a slight care for dating, romance, love, or anything of that sort. so, when you kiss him at a rowdy party one night, as his first kiss ever, he’s surprised to find that he wants more. what he thought was going to be a one-time thing, he finds evolving into something he never wants to end—even if you two aren’t meant to be more than a summer fling.

pairing. park sunghoon x gender-neutral!reader ft. jake sim

genres. fluff, strangers to lovers au, summer (fling) au

warnings. underage drinking & all that implies! please let me know if i've missed any :)

word count. 10.7k (10737)

taglist. @soobin-chois @my5colors @kflixnet @jaeyunverse @heejojo @tbzloonar @odxrilove @aizzon

listen to! strangers, sigrid ⭑ i'll be down, talia goddess ⭑ lovestained, hope tala ⭑ yuck, charli xcx ⭑ feature me, flo ⭑ summer's over, tv girl ft. jordana ⭑ yellow cab, dpr live (click on the listen to for the spotify playlist, which i recommend listening to unshuffled)

notes. ermmm..... after more than a year and (almost) radio silence on this blog, here she is!! i'm rlly sorry ab how long it took for me to post this (esp when it was sitting in my drafts for a whole year..) 😭😭 but SHE'S HERE and that's all that matters!! since this was originally an entry for @/prettywon's soul symphonies collab, this song is based on yellow cab by dpr live, as you can probably tell by the title & playlist. i was rlly trying to reflect that boyish infatuation he's singing ab so if u cringe a bit i understand 😪 i did too tysm lola @ijhyo for beta reading this for me! (pls pardon me for tagging u a few hours late 🙏🏾) but enough rambling from me!! enjoy! ❤️

I – K is for Kiss

There was no such thing as the perfect first kiss.

Park Sunghoon, a nineteen-year-old boy who’d never been kissed, had accepted this fact long ago. A lucky few got to have their first kiss with their first love or a longtime crush, while a lot more people had embarrassing stories they’d share on drunken nights. He knew a first kiss wasn’t something out of a fairytale. But, he felt that, at the very least, he should have an adequate first kiss–preferably with someone he had some sort of feelings for.

So, he’d never predicted that he’d end up losing his lip virginity to a stranger at the summer party his best friend, Jake, was throwing.

Or that he’d like it. (Sunghoon wasn’t sure he could even admit that.)

He could admit this though: you were a good kisser. A very, very good kisser–at least, according to his standards. Even he–the nineteen-year-old who’d never even held hands with someone, let alone kissed someone–was able to realise you’d done this a dozen times before when you cupped his cheek–not aggressively, but softly, gently–whispered the question in his ear, and pulled him into a chaste, soft kiss as soon as he’d nodded awkwardly.

Then, moving your hand from his cheek to his neck and smirking slightly, you deepened the kiss.

That’s when he started wondering why he’d never done this before.

You didn’t move too fast, or too slow. It was almost like you knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was feeling, because the second it would start feeling a bit too much for him and his head would start swimming, you would pull back and rest your forehead against his. But, when he started missing the feel of your lips on his, your eyes would flicker to his, the question on the tip of your tongue, and lean in again.

He would never say it out loud, not to you or anyone else, but he was glad you’d taken the lead. Because with the way his hands were trembling to wrap themselves around your waist, and how he’d avoid your gaze every time you pulled back, he wasn’t so sure you two would’ve even been here if you’d left the initiating to him.

All of a sudden, you pulled back–the first time you didn’t do what he wanted–and Sunghoon chased your lips for a bit, cheeks reddening when he realised you weren’t leaning back in.

He stepped back, which was hard to do in a cramped shed but he managed and cleared his throat. Suddenly, he was very interested in inspecting the design of said shed. “Um… is something wrong? Did I, I don’t know, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you smiled coyly and licked your lips (Sunghoon’s eyes may have flickered back up in time to catch the moment and linger on it), “the seven minutes are up.”

Oh. Right. That–a very silly round of seven minutes in heaven–was how he’d got here. Stuck in a shed. Kissing a complete, random stranger. Y’know, the daily, run-of-the-mill stuff for Sunghoon.

He nodded slowly, flicking away the few dark hairs that fell in front of his eyes. “Right, right. After you.”

“After you?” You laughed, a warm sound he found himself melting to (on the inside. On the outside, he was biting his lip so hard he could taste your chapstick on his tongue), “This whole time you haven’t done anything, but now you want to be a gentleman?”

His face reddened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “No one said gentlemen have to be good at kissing!”

“You do have a point, kind sir.” He rolled his eyes at your jab. “I’d just think it’d be much more gentlemanly of you to look me in the eyes, instead of, dunno, glaring at my lips.”

At this rate, Sunghoon was sure someone’s face couldn’t be as red as his was.

He made a point to look into your eyes for a good ten seconds, breath held, before looking at his flip flops and murmuring, “I wasn’t glaring… I think. Like, I’m not mad at your lips or anything.”

You laughed again, a deeper sound he was sure came from the depths of your heart, and with a small grin on his face, Sunghoon decided he liked the sound.

“I wasn’t saying you were mad.” You stepped closer to him and Sunghoon’s breath hitched. You reached out to him, and for a second Sunghoon thought you were going to cup his face and kiss him again–he wanted you to–but then you reached up and smoothed his eyebrows and the space between them. “Just relax these big boys a bit. They can get a day off glaring, don’t you think, cutie?”

You didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, you smiled and reached behind Sunghoon for the shed door, stepping out to hear a chorus of cheers from some other partygoers and leaving the boy dumbfounded and red.

It was only when Sunghoon moved to leave the shed that he realised he’d never caught your name.

II – I is for Infatuation

Sunghoon was not thinking about the kiss. Well. Kisses.

At least, that was what he toldhimself.

But, ever since he’d woken up at Jake’s place the morning after, with a head so heavy he wasn’t sure he could even lift it, it was the only thing on his mind.

First thing in the morning, when he couldn’t even remember what his name was, he thought about it. Late at night, hours past when he’d told himself he’d go to sleep, he thought about it. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t get the thought of you and your stupid lips out of his head. (Jake had called him obsessed, but he preferred to think of it as a little infatuation.)

He was sure he was going insane when he saw someone perusing the chapstick section in the grocery store and immediately thought of you, only for him to find out it was you when your hands landed on the same pack.

Sunghoon drew his hand back like he was stung, while you simply took the balm and murmured an apology without sparing him a glance.

He wasn’t sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or disappointment. On one hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips (which was the reason he told himself he was in the lip balm section in the first place and not because he couldn’t get your lips out of his head). On the other hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips.

Sunghoon didn’t have much time to think about it though, because you suddenly looked back and raised your eyebrows at him.

He bit his lip in anticipation of what you were going to say, but he could’ve never imagined you’d say, “Nice jammies, cutie.”

Sunghoon was beginning to think you had a thing for embarrassing him, as his cheeks turned the shade of some of the chapsticks on display. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, murmuring, “Thanks, my grandma crocheted them for me.”

“Really?” Your eyes shone with actual interest, and Sunghoon’s blush spread across his cheeks. “Do you think you could send me her number or something? I’ve been trying to get the hang of crocheting recently, but it’s just not been working.”

“I would, totally, a hundred percent, but I don’t have your number yet, so…” He went silent, as he realised what he’d said and your eyebrows climbed further up your head.

Sunghoon wished the ground would open up. Pronto.

“Wow, cutie, I have to say, I’m kinda impressed.” You stretched out your hand, which made Sunghoon’s brows furrow, until you gestured for the phone in his pyjama pocket. “I never thought you’d be the type of gentleman to muster up the balls to ask for my number, but here we are.”

He groaned as he passed you his phone, a slight flush to his face. “Could we not rehash the whole gentleman bit? That was kinda embarrassing for me.”

“What?” You grinned, eyes flickering between his phone screen and him. “Do you mean the part where you didn’t know how to kiss back or the part where you stared at my lips the whole time after, cutie?”

If Sunghoon wasn’t sure before, he definitely was now. You had a thing for embarrassing him–and calling him cutie. He’d never admit it, but he was finding that he didn’t really seem to mind either.

He avoided your gaze and toyed with the hem of his sweater, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Um, both?”

“’ Kay, got it.” You passed his phone back to him and watched him redden at what you’d saved yourself as.

“Couldn’t your name have sufficed? Why did you—” he groaned and buried his face behind his hands, his voice coming through as muffled— “Why did you have to save yourself as ‘seven minutes hottie?’ Isn’t that too conceited of you... and corny?”

You shrugged. “It’s not wrong, is it?”

Even though you couldn’t see his face redden, he figured you’d imagined it as you let out a small snort. “What? Are you gonna tell me I’m not hot?”

“... No,” came his reluctant reply, as he finally removed his hands from his face and went to change your contact name to your actual name, only to remember he’d never got it. “Ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“My name?” You hummed quietly, like you were considering something, and Sunghoon felt a certain type of anticipation grow in his stomach. “If I tell you my name, do I get a kiss, cutie?”

He scoffed, though he could still feel some blood rush to his cheeks. You were really something. “I thought you said I was a bad kisser.”

“Uh-uh,” you corrected, leaning in slowly, “I said you don’t know how to kiss. But, once you do, well… who knows?”

For the second time in a week, Sunghoon felt the distance between you two close and desperately wished you were going to kiss him. Yes, he was in a grocery store and yes, anyone could walk past at any moment, but when you leaned in so close to him–with your soft lips pursed and your eyes staring into his soul–he couldn’t help but fall victim to the pull you had on him. He was weak–so weak–to you.

But, just like before, you didn’t.

You simply brushed his bed hair out of his face and snorted a bit at his spaced-out expression, before stepping back into a space where Sunghoon could finally breathe and think of something else other than your lips on his.

“Yeah,” he murmured, so low that you had to lean back in to hear him.

Sunghoon had always thought of himself as a reasonable, patient person. He knew if he wanted quality things in his life, he’d have to get used to waiting often–at least, that’s what his parents had taught him. But, every time you came into his orbit, his usually thick line of patience wore thin with a simple glance or smile from you.

What were you doing to him?

“Sorry,” your tongue flicked back over your lips, “what was that?”

His line snapped.

“Yeah, you do get a kiss.”

And the words were gone before he could take them back. But, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding out of his chest, Sunghoon found he didn’t want to take them back–even though, in the back of his mind, part of him was blushing and squirming at his wording.

“Oh?” you said, looking straight into his eyes–unwavering, for once. A certain tension filled the air, as you two stared at each other for a moment, the night of the party probably replaying in both your heads. Careful not to disturb the atmosphere between you two, you whispered, “_____. My name’s _____.”

The tension wasn’t cut, but simply deflated like a balloon as Sunghoon let out a long breath, cheeks painted a dark red, and asked, “But not here, right? I’m not saying we’re doing anything too scandalous, but my mum’s good friends with the manager here, so… Yeah. I kinda, um–maybe I, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a moment of silence, as you stared incredulously at the blushing boy, before you burst out into full-fledged laughter. You hugged your sides a bit and smiled so wide that any passerby would’ve thought Sunghoon was a comedic genius.

Before he could get the wrong idea, you cupped Sunghoon’s face and said, “You’re just too cute, cutie.”

And he smiled a little, slowly as his eyes traced your face, his brows finally relaxed.

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye, sobering up, and asked, “So. Where's your car?”

III – S is for Scrapbook

You and Sunghoon had ended up kissing in his car.

When he’d told Jake about it later, he’d said you guys had made out–to embarrass Sunghoon, he assumed–but the kisses had been soft and chaste, where you’d been more focused on getting Sunghoon to reciprocate than just kissing him. He had, albeit slowly, and by the time he’d dropped you off at your house, he was able to proudly say that he had initiated a kiss between you two.

It had built his confidence incredibly, being able to say that he’d kissed you and not the other way around–not that he was saying it to anyone, besides Jake really–so much so that he’d texted you just a few minutes after he’d gotten home. He’d panicked then, wondering if you’d think it weird he’d texted you so quickly, but you’d responded just as fast that his nerves had calmed and he’d found himself laughing at your texts.

While talking to you face to face was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to, texting you was something he could do with ease–well, somewhat.

In the late afternoons, when he woke up with messy bed hair and mucus still in his eyes, he’d check his phone to see if you’d sent anything–which you almost always had. Whether it was a quick picture of something you'd seen on a walk, your poor attempts at making breakfast, or even just a morning selfie.

On some days, he’d feel too flustered and musty to send anything in return–Like, what if you realised he was wearing the same shirt he’d sent a picture in yesterday?—and on others, he had to shut off his phone to take deep breaths after sending something as simple as him brushing his teeth.

Okay, so he was still struggling to talk to you, but at least he didn’t stutter over text and go red every few seconds.

With his awkwardness out of the way, he could actually learn things about you. Like your favourite colour, your favourite spots in town, and your hobbies. He even learned you liked to scrapbook and every summer, you’d make a scrapbook of all your highlights. Polaroids, film stills, movie tickets, coupons, and more would go into the scrapbook and at the end of summer, you’d post little snippets on it on your Instagram page. He’d told you it was cute and jokingly asked if he’d be featured in this summer’s scrapbook, to which you’d responded with ‘we’d have to go out for u to be included wouldnt we?’

Which is what led to this moment. He had thought you were joking about the whole going out thing because it’d been late at night and you two had just been talking about the trips you’d been going on with your families in the next couple of days, but then the next morning–that morning–you’d sent two tickets to a film showing that evening–this evening. Right now–and a short, little ‘wanna go see this? my scrapbook’s feeling a little hoon-less rn :(’.

Evidently, he hadn’t said no, because he was now parked outside your house, trying to calm himself down as he waited for you to come out.

His hands were sweating a bit, and he kept checking his reflection in his rearview mirror, anxiously biting his lower lip and running a hand through his hair. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even the fact that he was going to see you that was stressing him out, it was more the fact that he didn’t know what this was. Were you guys just going out to see a late-night movie as friends? Was it a date? Should he have shown up with flowers or a gift? Were you guys just friends? Were you something more? Did you always ask your friends to see movies late at night so impromptu? Did he even see you as more than a friend?

All the questions made his head swim and his palms sweat, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He hadn’t been thinking of this the few weeks you guys had been texting, but now he felt like a broken record, gaze bouncing between his reflection and your house.

And then all his thoughts slowed to a stop.

You walked out of your house with a slight smile and a twinkle in your eye, and his brain turned to mush. You looked… good. That was all he was capable of thinking, as you walked the short distance to his car, waving, and slid into the passenger seat.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second, as you put on your seatbelt and said hi, his mind completely blank. Then, your touch on his shoulder and a furrow between your brows brought him back to the present and he spat out a jumbled mess of, “Good, yeah, yeah. I’m good, you’re good, so good.”

It was your turn to stare, confusion clear in your eyes, and panic rose within him.

“Wait, I mean you look good!” he said, gesturing at you, “I mean, not that you don’t look good all the time, but, like, you look really good right now. Like, wow, I–I should stop talking.”

You blinked at him for a second and then laughed that same laugh that melted his insides. He noticed, as you threw your head back slightly, that you hadn’t removed your hand from his shoulder, and Sunghoon found himself relishing your touch.

“Stop it, cutie, you’re gonna make me blush,” you said playfully, rolling your eyes and hitting his chest lightly. You sobered up slightly, but the smile was still wide on your face as you said, “You look good, too. Very suave, very cool. I can’t lie though, I miss the bedhead and your grandma’s sweater a bit.”

With your easy words lightening the mood, he found himself relaxing a bit–enough to pull away from the curb and start driving. “Really? Maybe I’ll wear it next time.”

You didn’t blink at his mention of a next time, though Sunghoon searched your face for any sign of discomfort or surprise. Instead, your smile grew slightly and you asked, “What type of date are you thinking? Like, an early morning IHOP or Waffle House thing? Or, more of an early-morning pancake date at home?”

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d stopped at a red light, Sunghoon was sure he would’ve crashed his car right at that moment. He gulped loudly and spared your expectant eyes a glance, as he could feel his blood rush in his ears and hear his heart pound out of his chest.

The light turned green and he cleared his throat. “Uh, so, does that mean this is a date?”

He was glad he couldn’t see your reaction to his question–you probably thought he was silly–but was also nervous because you went quiet for a  bit. Sunghoon considered turning on the radio and moving on from the topic, if that could dispel the momentary awkwardness between you two, but he wanted to hear your answer.

You laughed slightly, but he could hear the nervous undertones. “Do you not want it to be one? I’m sorry, I just assumed because, well, we kissed at the party and we’ve been talking and stuff since then, so… I thought you were more of a dating type of guy, but–”

“Wait, what?” he interrupted, a crease in his forehead as he spared you a glance. Something within him shattered at the sight of the uncertainty on your face. Had he done that? “What other type of guy would I be?”

“Well, you know…” You paused, shifting slightly in your seat. “There are some guys that just wanna have fun. Mess around, you know? I didn’t think you were one of those guys, but if that’s what you wanna do, then–”

“No,” he said fiercely, only realising how angry he sounded when you glanced at him in surprise. “I want to date you. I really do. I just… I thought you didn’t and I didn’t know if we were just friends, and I’ve never done this before so, I just–”

“You’ve never done this before?” you cut him off, visible shock in your eyes. “There’s no way, Hoon. You’re joking, right?”

And with that, the awkwardness dissipated, as his cheeks flamed and he avoided your wide eyes.

“I know, it’s weird–”

“No, no!” You smiled a bit at his flustered state. “It’s not weird. I’ve only dated once before and, even then, it wasn’t that serious, so we’re kind of in the same boat.”

It was his turn to glance at you with incredulous eyes. “Wait, really? I thought you had so much dating experience cause, like, you’re such a good kisser and you’re so confident and forward, y’know?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, some guys just wanna mess around. Sometimes, I do too.”

“And that’s not what you want with me, right? You actually want to date, right?” You’d already told him you considered this a date, and he’d already told you he wanted to date you–which you hadn’t objected to–but he just had to make sure that was real, and his mind hadn’t made that up.

“Yeah, Hoon,” you started softly, a shy smile on your lips–something he thought he’d never see on you.  “I actually want to date you.”

Immediately, his eyes flickered back to the road and his cheeks flushed, a wide grin slowly stretching on his lips. You laughed at his smile, loud and warm, and he closed his eyes in bliss and only opened them again to smile at you.

“So, this is a date? For sure?” he asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the console as he flickered through the channels for a song.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your hand brushing his as you turned up the volume on a specific channel, smiling at the way his flush deepened. You held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and nodded. “This is a date.”

Sunghoon couldn’t even remember why he’d been so nervous, and why his palms–one of which was currently touching yours–had been so sweaty, as he gazed into your eyes and leaned in for a chaste kiss. He smiled into it and rolled his eyes to himself, all of his questions answered. Especially the one he’d been too worried to even ask himself.

If he’d had any doubt about it before, he was sure of it now.

He liked you. Maybe even too much for a summer fling.

IV – S is for Sorry

Over the next few days, Sunghoon found himself wishing you guys were more than just a summer fling.

It was wistful thinking, he knew that already. Just a few months prior, you guys hadn’t even been aware of the other's existence. Now, to him, it felt like you took up every inch of his thoughts, dreams, and being. And, in just a couple of weeks, you’d be off to your respective universities, leaving the short fling between you just that–a short, summer fling.

You two were avoiding talking about it, despite the palpable tension it added to your conversations when you brought up the future. You would mention how you were going to look into photography courses at your uni on a video call and Sunghoon would smile outwardly, while inwardly he’d wonder if you’d find someone else to call your muse–as he’d gotten used to you calling him.

He would mention how he was going to do a double major since he wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to do, and he’d notice the way you’d bite your lip like you were stopping yourself from asking him where. And, just now, moments ago on your video call, you had mentioned how you wanted to go on another date with him after you both got back from your hometowns, but before… (well, you hadn’t continued but he knew you meant before you two had to part.)

He knew you two were only prolonging your pain, and he was only wounding himself deeper by thinking so wistfully, but you two were happy at this exact moment. And, it wasn’t enough, but he’d make it be enough if that was what you two needed.

At least, that’s what he’d been thinking till his sister barged into his childhood room and said his grandma wanted to see him.

Now, legs tucked under himself and head lowered, Sunghoon sat opposite her, with a long table between them, and a tense silence filled the room.

He wasn’t sure what his grandma “seeing him” meant. She wasn’t very old, just in her early sixties, but she was a calm, wise woman who’d lived to see and experience a lot, so she may as well have had the wisdom of someone a century old. If she wanted to “see him,” that most likely meant she had a piece of advice for him that he wouldn’t like.

For once, he was right.

“So, your mum told me you’ve been seeing someone?”

Sunghoon coughed abruptly, patting his chest as a deep flush flooded his cheeks. “I’m sorry?”

“Sorry?” Sunghoon’s grandma scoffed and eyed him slowly. “What are you sorry for? Not calling to consult me first? Or, for trying to hide it from me? Or, is there something else, hm?”

He raised his eyes to meet his grandma’s eyes, but immediately lowered them at the fierce scowl on her face. He bowed deeply, palms flat before him. “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

She eyed his form for a second, before scoffing again and gesturing toward him. “Sit, sit. I didn’t call you here to hear you apologise all day.”

Sunghoon sat again and raised his head but still didn’t look his grandma in the eye. His mind was too preoccupied with wondering how his mum had figured it out, considering you guys had gone on your first date just a couple of days ago.

He jolted a bit when his grandma asked, “You’re not going to ask me why I called you?”

“Sorry,” he began and cleared his throat at his grandma’s glare.  “Why did you call me, Grandma?”

She continued eyeing him with the same, wary gaze she’d been eyeing him with since he’d entered her room for a few moments, before she suddenly became sombre. Without the glint in her eyes, Sunghoon could see how deep the pools in her eyes were and the lines surrounding them. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Well, what’s your plan? Hm?” Her eyes bore deep into his like her question was just a formality and she already knew the answer. Sunghoon wouldn’t be surprised if she already did. “Are you two going to be a campus couple?”

He knew her question was mostly rhetorical, but he couldn’t help but imagine it. Walking you to and from lectures; studying together in a library or a cosy coffee shop; going to endless parties with you; proofreading each other’s papers; you wearing his clothes in his dorm. Sunghoon felt himself grow warm.

Then, even warmer as his grandma cleared her throat and raised a knowing brow in his direction. She didn’t have to say anything for him to realise she was expecting an answer.

“I…” He faltered for a moment, remembering the hesitancy in your eyes every time a hint of the topic was brought up. “I don’t know, Grandma. I… well, there’s nothing I can really do, I guess. We’re probably not even going to the same universities, so I don’t know what the plan is.”

“Have you guys talked about it?”

A pause settled between the two of them, as Sunghoon lowered his eyes again and prepared himself to bow again.

His grandma scoffed, the loudest of all her scoffs so far, and sighed exasperatedly. “You two haven’t even discussed anything? And you’re here talking like you’re some handsome lead in a drama and _____’s life will be in danger if you two continue dating?”

“Ah, Grandma, are you saying I’m not hands–Wait, wait? How do you know _____’s name?”

She paused slightly and carefully schooled her features. “Is that important right now?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon’s brows furrowed, then he remembered your touch against them and he relaxed them a bit, “considering that I’ve never told Mum _____’s name or even the fact that we’ve been on one date, yes? Kinda?”

“I’m your grandma, am I not?” was her only response, with the ghost of a smile on her lips. He grimaced slightly, but his grandma continued without any regard for his reaction. “I know you guys are kids, but you didn’t even think of discussing anything? You were just going to kiss and say ‘bye bye’ and continue with your lives?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon started, trying to fight the blush climbing up his body. There wasn’t any point, though, because the apples of his cheeks were already shining. “_____’s not even my partner or anything, so it isn’t my place…”

“But isn’t that the end goal?”

His grandma stared at him, but he couldn’t hold the weight of her stare. Because deep down inside, Sunghoon knew she was right. And he knew he wanted nothing more than to be able to be called yours.

To see more pictures of the scenery from your morning walks and even join you on them too. To cuddle up in bed and watch some of your favourite animes together, only pausing to snuggle further into the blanket. To finally go on that early morning date at a Waffle House, eating your orders in his car where his passenger seat would be perfectly adjusted to seat you. To have a home, a space, with you.

But, he thought. There was always a ‘but’.

Before, that ‘but’ had been that he wasn’t even sure if that was what you wanted as well, if he even really wanted it. Now, that ‘but’ was the inevitable space and distance that would grow between you two. The space that would grow so large that you two wouldn’t be able to have any space for each other.

Sunghoon’s stomach sank as his thoughts spiralled, but he summed them up to his grandma with a simple shrug.

“Why are you, why are you so dramatic?” she asked, rolling her eyes at her grandson’s face. A fierce scowl was back on her face and, if it weren’t for the table between the two of them, she looked like she was about ready to pull on Sunghoon’s ear. “Why are you sitting here in my house moping and frowning like everything’s decided? Who knows? Maybe _____ is willing to make it work, to even travel to another city just to see you and your dramatic self. But how would you know when you’re busy here moping?”

He’d considered it. Judging from the talks you’d had and the sheer amount of hours you talked every day, Sunghoon was sure that you liked him as well (not as much as he did, he was sure–that wasn’t even remotely possible when he could barely get you off his mind–but enough to deal with his “dramatic self,” as his grandma had put it). But, there it was again, he just couldn’t get rid of that ‘but.’ It was festering in the back of his mind whenever he even thought of bringing it up to you.

“Sunghoon.” There was a note of finality in his grandma’s voice as she said his name. “Discuss things with _____ first. I understand sometimes we experience heartbreak, but I won’t let you break your own heart over foolishness.”

“But Grandma–”

“No ‘buts.’” His grandma folded her arms in her lap and glanced at the door of her room. “No more ‘buts’, Sunghoon.”

Despite the lingering worry settled in his system, he sighed and stood up slowly. Sunghoon bowed deeply, glanced at his hands, and left his grandma’s room with her words in mind.

V – E is for End

Sunghoon wasn’t too sure he’d be able to follow his grandma’s instructions.

He was back now from his hometown, back in the comfort of his familiar Seoul bedroom, but you weren’t here. He’d known you two wouldn’t get back at the same time, yet that didn’t stop him from feeling slightly lonely without you to go on dates with. It was a numbing feeling, that left him feeling empty if he dwelled on it too long, and he worried he’d go completely numb if you two truly didn’t end up working out.

The thought sent a chill down his spine every time Sunghoon’s mind strayed to it and Jake’s feeble comforts did little to quell his worries.

To make matters worse, you unexpectedly postponed your return date and said you couldn’t go to a pool party Jake was throwing anymore. You were very vague about the reason why when he asked and Sunghoon began worrying once again. He even brought up not going to the party to Jake, but his best friend wouldn’t have it and threatened to drag him to the party himself.

So, there he was. Standing at the edge of a crowd of strangers, nursing his second beer of the night, and completely alone. Well, he wasn’t completely alone. Jake and some of Sunghoon’s other friends had passed by him and invited him to the dance floor, but he couldn’t get himself to get out there and dance with someone who wasn’t you. The most they’d been able to get him to do was drink a little, even if the drinks only fuelled his moping.

A couple of people sent him inviting looks and winks, dancing in a way that made him avert his eyes immediately, but he didn’t budge an inch from where he was standing. Maybe if you were here, he would. No, definitely, if you were here he would. His mind wandered to grasp at the edges of the first night you’d met, trying to remember if you’d been dancing that night, but he couldn’t pull up a single image of you dancing.

If you were here, how would you dance? Would you dance with a lot of energy, completely letting yourself loose? Or, would you take your time to flow with the music, swinging your hips and smiling at him in that way that just drove him crazy?

Sunghoon smiled a bit at the thought and felt his hips move along to the beat, frowning once he realised what he was doing.

He missed you.

Just a few months ago, he hadn’t known he could miss someone the way he was missing you, but he was and he couldn’t do anything about it.

As if his best friend could read his thoughts, Jake danced off the dance floor to Sunghoon’s side, running a hand through his unruly, blond hair. Sunghoon could smell the booze coming off him, and he watched as his friend nearly lost his footing trying to lean on Sunghoon. Jake barely noticed, though, as he just kept smiling up at Sunghoon. Sunghoon made a point to look anywhere, except in the blond’s direction.

After a while of just trying to ignore his drunk friend, Sunghoon eventually rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow in Jake’s direction. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t just look at you now?” Jake asked, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“No, it’s not that. It’s the way you’re looking at me.”

“How am I looking at you?” His friend leaned in close, stretching an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders. “Hm? I’m just looking at you with my normal eyeballs, my very normal eyeballs, actually just like you, you too.”

“You’re looking at me like, I don’t fucking know, you’re hiding some type of secret from me,” Sunghoon said, pushing Jake off his frame. “And I don’t like that look because the last time you looked at me like that I ended up kissing _____ in a shed for seven minutes.”

Jake’s wide smile grew into a slight, smug smirk. “And look how well that turned out for you. Someone’s not so bitchless anymore.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink but couldn’t hide the dusting of pink on his cheeks. (If he were to consider things between the two of you, you would be the one who wasn’t so bitchless anymore, considering he was more of your bitch than you were his with the way he was nursing a beer in the corner of a party like a loser just because he missed you. He didn’t need to tell Jake all that though.)

Instead, he feigned an annoyed scowl and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want, Jake?”

“I thought you would never ever ever ask.” His friend grinned. “Can you please get out the other floaties from the shed? Some people ripped these and, well, turns out not everyone at a pool party can actually swim. A bit crazy, I know.”

“Why can’t you? The shed was closer to where you were standing.”

“Um…” his friend trailed off, shaking his head incredulously, “I’m obviously inebriated, you know! Everything weighs a shitton of bricks right now.”

Sunghoon’s feigned scowl deepened into a real one, as he rolled his eyes and put his beer down on the ground. It was getting warm anyway and the alcohol wasn’t doing much for him, except make him miss you more. He shot Jake a look, before shouldering past him and making his way towards Jake’s shed.

It was surprisingly chilly for a summer night out, chilly enough at least that Sunghoon could feel some of the hairs on his arms raise as he stalked towards the shed. But, he welcomed the chill because his alternative was thinking about what had happened the last time he’d walked towards this shed. And once he started thinking about that, he’d start missing the feel of your lips on his, your arms around his neck, your eyes staring into his.

He cursed under his breath at his thoughts, wondering if, for even one second, he could think of something other than you.

Sunghoon immediately answered his question with a ‘no’ when he walked into the shed and he thought he smelled your signature fragrance. He would’ve recognised it anywhere (not because he was obsessed like Jake had once said, but because you’d borrowed his sweater on your date and your scent still lingered even after he’d washed it), so he was sure he wasn’t picking up someone else’s perfume or cologne, but he wouldn’t rule out him imagining your fragrance there as a result of him missing you so much.

So, he ignored the smell filling the shed and clambered around for the light switch. He’d been so sure it was by the wall, but he must’ve been more buzzed than he realised because his fingers kept grazing the air. By the time he finally felt the grooves of the light switch under his fingers and was going to turn it on, Sunghoon was so ready to grab the floaties Jake had asked for and get back to the party, or maybe even go home because–

Sunghoon froze.

He couldn’t think, speak, or do anything as the lights flickered on to reveal… well, you.

Sunghoon was going crazy.

He was so sure you were a figment of his imagination, brought about by how much he missed you, and he immediately frowned at the thought. Missing you was fine, maybe overkill when he thought about how often he thought about you, but creating images of you? That was a bit too much, even for him.

Despite his thoughts, though, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the nagging hope that maybe this was real. It didn’t help that “you”—or you–were smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flip, especially after being away from you for so long.

He felt ridiculous for even bothering, like when a horror film character asks who’s there after hearing a noise in the dark, but he cleared his throat slowly and whispered, “_____?”

You giggled softly and raised your eyebrows at what Sunghoon was sure was an incredulous look on his face. “Yes, Hoon?”

“Oh, my God,” Sunghoon started, feet still locked in place, “Oh, my God.”

You took a step closer to him and your grin only grew wider as he blinked slowly at you. Another step and he gulped slowly. Yet another and his eyes grew wide.

He put a hand up before you could take another step and close the distance between you two. “Wait, wait, wait!”

A small frown lit up your face, but you stayed where you were and slightly cocked your head.

“You’re real?” Sunghoon felt stupid asking, but he still had to check.

The feeling only doubled when your brows furrowed and you asked, “Am I real? … Hoon, is everything okay?”

He felt so warm at the familiar nickname that he could almost ignore the rest of what you said, but the growing concern on your face made him clarify himself.

“I just, I’ve had a bit to drink so I thought that my brain tricked me into thinking you were there.” Sunghoon paused at the bemusement on your face and he suddenly felt a whole lot warmer, despite the chilly air. “Actually, um, now that I say it out loud I do realise how ridiculous it sounds. Sorry.”

“Well,” you smiled at him with a sly glint in your eye, finally closing the gap between you two so your breath was fanning out on his face, “if you want to check, you always can.”

Sunghoon, being the guy he was, immediately thought of how he’d pinch himself in a shocking situation and went to do just that. It was only when you laughed at his actions, an incredulous look in your eyes, that he realised what you’d meant and blushed.

“Oh, I, I–”

“Hoon?” you asked, cutting him off and waiting until he nodded, “You’re so cute sometimes, y’know?”

“Just sometimes?” Sunghoon recovered quickly, sliding his arms around your waist and grinning slightly. He’d missed this too much. “So, what am I the other times?”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s gotten a little bolder, hasn’t he?”

“I’d say it’s your influence. You were bound to rub off on me after sticking around me so much.”

He grinned at the way your brows shot up.

“Sticking around you? Hoon, who was the one that–”

“_____?” It was Sunghoon’s turn to cut you off and his grin grew so wide at the realisation on your face. It felt good to finally flip the tables. “You talk so much sometimes, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a slight tug on your lips. “Wow, you’re so original. What, first you’re gonna steal my line, next you’re gonna pull some cheesy rom-com line on me and kiss me?”

“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t like it?” he asked, as one of his hands slowly travelled up your side and settled on cupping your jaw. He didn’t miss the way you sagged into his touch. Sunghoon was going to explode.

The tug on your lips grew into a full grin and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “Now, who said anything about that? C’mere, Hoon.”

He didn’t need to hear it twice. Sunghoon tilted your jaw towards him and leaned in for a soft kiss. It wasn’t intense or desperate, unlike what he’d imagined it be like after being away from you for so long, but he preferred it this way. He could savour the taste of your familiar lip balm against his lips and take his time pecking small, chaste kisses on and around your lips.

He sighed out loud and felt his cheeks flush when you pulled back to laugh. “You really missed me, huh?”

Sunghoon wasn’t sure if it was because of the little alcohol in his system or how much he’d missed you, but he gazed into your eyes and whispered, “I did. I really did.”

And, just like that, the tension was back. The obvious hesitancy. The ‘buts.’ He could feel your hold on his neck loosen slightly and he wanted nothing more than to take his words back and rewind to before he fell too deep, but it was too late. All that was left was for him to either avoid everything or finally face it, despite the worries that built up in his mind.

“_____,” he started gently, like you would run away at any second (but he knew you too well to know that you wouldn’t–he would), “we… we should talk.”

“About what?” you tried, a burst of nervous laughter escaping your lips.

You were avoiding his serious gaze, choosing instead to focus on where your hands met his neck. Sunghoon couldn’t tell much of what you were thinking, but, knowing you, he knew you were only postponing the conversation. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be a fun night for you two–after all, you’d probably sacrificed some more nights with your family to get here. Or, maybe it was because you weren’t ready to discuss it. Either way, it was as much your decision as his.

Sunghoon lowered his hands to your lower back and squeezed lightly. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to… It’d just be a good idea because soon everyone’s gonna start leaving for uni and well, we don’t even know what’s gonna happen between us then, and it’d probably be best if–”

“Hoon.” You were looking into his eyes now, your brows drawn together. “You’re shaking.”

His eyes grew wide and left your face to glance at his fingers, which were trembling around your waist. He tried laughing, shaking the nerves off, but the sound came out choked and he winced. Without a word, he gestured towards the floor of the shed and slumped against the back wall. You followed shortly after, sitting with your knees bunched up to your chest, one of your shoulders brushing against his. At your touch, Sunghoon wanted to reach out and squeeze one of your hands, but they were balled up on top of your knees, a hard look on your face. He sighed.

“You’re right, Hoon,” you started, staring ahead through the open shed door. The party was still going on outside, the music and noise muted from where you two were, but it might’ve as well not been with the way you two were wrapped up in your own bubble. A tense bubble. “We should talk… about us.”

He nodded, crossing his legs and laying his trembling hands in his lap.

Despite what you said, a short lapse of silence settled between you two and, for a moment, Sunghoon was worried this wasn’t going to go anywhere and he’d made a mistake.

But then you swivelled your head towards him and whispered, “What do you want us to be?”

What does he want you two to be? He’d thought about that question one too many times. It’d only ever hurt, thinking of so many domestic scenes and possibilities with you two when he wasn’t even sure if there could be a ‘you two.’

“What do I want us to be?” he repeated, gazing out the shed. “I want us to be together. I want… I want to keep waking up to your pictures on my phone and to go on spontaneous, little dates with you and finally go for that Waffle House date and… just be with you. I want you.”

With his last words, he slowly looked at you and already found you looking at him. There was a little smile tugging at your lips, that was both sad and happy at the same time, and you just nodded slowly.

As his gaze lingered, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes. “I want that too. Really, I do. You don’t understand how many times I’ve wondered what it’d be like if, I don’t know, we’d met a little earlier. If we could’ve gotten to know each other during high school.

“You know Jake told me you were your school’s drama club star?” You smiled slightly and Sunghoon felt a small smile pull at his lips as well. “I would’ve loved to be in the crowds, cheering you on. Or, even maybe get up on stage with you. Jake told me your school never did Romeo and Juliet, but you’d make a pretty good Juliet, don’t you think?”

Sunghoon chuckled and you did too, your shoulders brushing against each other’s for a moment, till your laughter ebbed away. You stared straight ahead again, frowning.

“And then I wondered why I kept thinking of the past. I mean, it’d just make more sense for me to hope that we could stay together, you know? But instead, I keep wishing we’d known each other longer.” You smiled again, that smile from before, but Sunghoon was sure it was only sad this time. “And I realised that I, I felt like we were running out of time. That, I don’t know, when summer ends, we end. Like the changing of weather is some type of timer.”

You whispered the last part more to yourself, but Sunghoon heard it and the self-loathing in it. You loathed yourself for the way you’d been thinking. Sunghoon couldn’t help but relate.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at Sunghoon, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you ever feel like that? Like this is all the time we’ll ever have? Like even thinking of a future where we’re together is… I don’t know, like, wrong?”

That familiar hurt Sunghoon felt or anticipated, whenever he thought of the two of you together on campus came to mind and he nodded slowly. The ‘buts were popping up in his mind again, filling him with growing dread and he was starting to regret his decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have brought it up, and let you guys live in oblivious bliss for a little longer. But, deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be true bliss. Like his grandma had said, you would only end up hurting yourselves because of your foolishness.

“But that’s not true, is it?” he started, glancing down at his hands which had started trembling again, “I don’t even know, like, what even made us think we only have the summer? Just because we met in summer? When you think of it like that, you feel ridiculous don’t you? We could literally be going to the same uni and we’re here, too anxious to even tell each other where we’re going.”

You snorted, glancing at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye. “You’re right.” Straightening, you turned your whole body to face him. “You know considering we’re going in a few weeks, we’ve probably put more effort into not mentioning uni in our conversations because it should’ve popped up in our conversations, at least, once before.”

“Exactly. We should just tell each other. Now. Before we, we lose our nerve or something.”

You nodded and bit your lip, while Sunghoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt your hand brush against his, so he opened his eyes and took your hands in his. Your hands were, surprisingly, clammy. He was going to say something about it, but, glancing at your face, he spotted the way your eyes were darting all around the room.

Instead of commenting on it, Sunghoon took another deep breath. “Ready?”

You nodded once. “Ready.”

A short silence ensued between the two of you, as neither of you said anything or even made a move to say anything. Your eyes finally landed on his and a nervous smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You were nervous, Sunghoon realised belatedly and squeezed your hand instinctively.

“On three?” he offered.

“On three.”

“One, two, three–University of Seoul.”

“Kyunghee University–wait, what the fuck?”

Sunghoon furrowed his brows at the shocked look on your face and your exclamation. He couldn’t even focus on the name of the university you’d said. All the anxieties that’d been bothering him were beginning to boil up and over at the simple lack of happiness on your face. He was almost sure he was the one with the clammy hands now and he moved to remove his hand from yours when you gripped his tightly and began to smile lightly.

“What the fuck,” you repeated, still as shocked, but with the beginnings of a grin on your face.

Sunghoon only looked at you with his brows still furrowed. He frowned slightly when you began laughing. “I’m confused.”

“I can’t believe I was so stressed about this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but still smiling directly at him. “Hoon, we’re so dumb. So fucking dumb.”

“I agree… I think? But, why, I–”

“What neighbourhood is the University of Seoul in?”

“_____, what? I–”

You placed a finger on his lips and shook your head. “Don’t overthink it. Just answer my question.”

He glanced between your finger on his lips and your face. “Dongdaemun-gu.”

“Dongdaemun-gu,” you repeated, your small smile growing into a full one now, “Guess where Kyunghee is?”

“Uh.” He looked away from your face, trying to picture a map of Seoul in his head, but he drew short (he’d always been bad at geography anyway). “Myeongnyun? Daehakno?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but your smile grew even wider. “Not even close. It’s in Hoegi-Dong.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, while you just looked at him with an expectant look on your face. He shook his head sheepishly and you just rolled your eyes.

“Hoon, they’re like five minutes away from each other.” You paused to let it sink in and laughed as Sunghoon’s brows finally relaxed and his eyes widened. “This is fucking stupid. We’re so fucking stupid.”

Sunghoon could only blink dumbly at you, while you just laughed at his dumbfounded shock. Immediately, his grandma’s words returned to him and a huge sense of embarrassment washed over him as he realised he’d proven her right. But, glancing between your intertwined hands and your wide smile, he found that he didn’t mind the embarrassment if it meant he still had a space with you.

(He’d do nearly anything to have that with you, he realised.)

You broke him out of his stupor by wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering, “So, Hoon, how do you feel now knowing that we’ll be, like, five minutes away from each other?”

“Want me to be honest?” he asked, placing his hands back on your waist (where they just seemed to fit perfectly, he noticed) and grinning softly when you nodded. “I feel really fucking embarrassed. Like, for weeks I’ve just been thinking of how much I’d miss you and wondering if I should even ask you out since we might not even see each other ever again. And, in the back of my head, I knew it was dumb because, if we wanted to make it work, we could make it work for sure. But, it was hard to remember that and–”

“Hoon, hoon,” you interrupted, giggling slightly and tightening your grip on his neck, “now, you’re the one talking too much.”

Sunghoon paused, taking a second to process what was going on. You were in front of him, hands wrapped around his neck, and smiling widely like he made you the happiest person in the world. He was in front of you, hands wrapped around your waist, and still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you two would be five minutes away from each other nearly every day–the closest to a campus couple he could ever ask for. He didn’t believe in fate (the same way he hadn’t believed in perfect first kisses, but he’d seen just how well that’d worked out for him), but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that something more than luck had landed you two in this situation.

He sighed out loud and rested his head against yours. ”God, I feel like I aged twenty years worrying about all of this. It feels a bit silly now, doesn’t it?”

“A bit is an understatement, don’t you think?” you replied, settling yourself in his lap. He froze a bit, and you moved to get up, but he shook his head and brought you closer. You smiled. “Besides, you’d probably still look good as a thirty-nine-year-old.”

“Oh, gross.” He scrunched up his nose as he moved closer to you, his hands running up and down your sides. “I don’t even want to imagine myself over thirty yet.”

“Really?” you raised a brow, arms locking around his neck and eyes flickering to his lips. “You’d be a hot DILF though.”

He snorted. “God, shut up.”

Your smile widened, a knowing glint in your eye. “Don’t make me say the cheesy rom-com line, Hoon.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, lips a breadth away from yours, before he kissed you.

Now, this was the desperate, intense kiss he’d been imagining earlier. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the anticipation you’d both been harbouring before or the elation at what you’d just found out, but you both pulled out the works with teeth, tongue–everything. Sunghoon couldn’t begin to describe how he felt, what you were making him feel, but all he knew was he didn’t want it to end.

And when you kissed him on his cheek, tugged on his hand, and pulled him out into the chaos of the party, smiling at him all the while like he was the only guy in the world, he knew it never would.

Epilogue – S is for Summer Fling

You two had decided on the early-morning pancake at-home date.

Evidently so, as you were in nothing but a hoodie of his and his old gym shorts (a fact that Sunghoon had known since yesterday, when you’d slept over at his after Jake’s party, but he was still struggling to grasp), he was in another one of his hoodies and sweatpants, and you were both still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The rich smell of butter wafted all around Sunghoon’s kitchen, accompanied by the sizzling sound of him pouring pancake batter on the greasy pan. Besides the sizzles, and the occasional yawn from you, it was a completely silent morning, as Sunghoon concentrated all his efforts into impressing you with his cooking skills.

“So does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, breaking the silence and Sunghoon’s focus.

He blinked, glad he was facing the stove and not where you sitting behind the kitchen island, and found that he couldn’t stop blinking. Was he your boyfriend? It was like you read his mind because that’s all he’d been thinking of since the moment he woke up with you in his arms. He’d fallen asleep on many hot summer nights, but he’d never woken up as warm as he had that morning. It was a feeling he’d spent minutes basking in, tracing every one of your resting features with his eyes and wondering how he’d function as your boyfriend, waking up nearly every morning with this same warmth in his chest. It almost seemed too good to be his reality. And if he was your boyfriend, he thought, that meant you were his and–

“Hoon! The pancakes!” you yelled and Sunghoon cursed loudly.

He moved the pan off the stove and turned on the kitchen hood, but it was too late. The pancake was charred beyond recognition and, looking down at it, he wondered how he hadn’t smelt the tinging scent of the burnt pancake.

Sunghoon sighed as he chucked away the pancakes. “I’m sorry, _____, that was the last bit of pancake batter we had. If you don’t mind, I can quickly run to the store and–”

“Don’t worry about it, Hoon,” you said, cutting him off as you slid off the island seat. He couldn’t see where you were, or where you were going, so he stifled his breath a bit when you slid up beside him and thrust your phone in his face. “Besides, we can order in.”

He spared a glance at your face, preparing himself for any signs of disappointment or irritation, but you were just smiling at him with a soft look in your eyes.

His brows furrowed. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you started, shrugging, “but I can wait a couple of minutes.”

Sunghoon bit his lip, a protest and another apology on the tip of his tongue, and furrowed his brows further. Your eyes traced his movements, and you placed two gentle fingers on the fold between his brows, smoothing them out. He didn’t say anything as you did. He just lowered his head and frowned slightly at the smoking scent reminding him of his failed attempt at breakfast. You simply grinned at the obvious frustration and disappointment on his face, a look rising in your eyes that he didn’t catch as he chewed on his lower lip.

“Hoon,” you called out softly, waiting for him to raise his head. When he did, you took a step closer to him, a coy look in your eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He was about to furrow his brows again in confusion, but your words from earlier replayed in his head as your smile only grew more teasing, and Sunghoon was sure he was turning as red as the strawberries on the counter behind him.

The boy averted his gaze from you, murmuring, “Well, I was hoping to ask if I could have the honour of being your boyfriend after, you know, we had food that I’d made in our stomachs and proper clothes on our bodies, but I guess so.”

“The honour?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow and muffling a laugh. Sunghoon glared at you lightly when you let a giggle slip, at which you apologised. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll bestow you with the honour of being my boyfriend after we run to the grocery store so you can fix up some pancakes and ask me out already.”

You almost laughed again at how quickly he perked up at your words and, this time, he rolled your eyes and smiled slightly at your teasing grin.

As he grabbed his keys, held your hand, and slipped out the door, the same warmth he’d felt that morning bloomed from where your hands met to every other bit of his body. He’d never imagined this, kissing his soon-to-be something in his car before a grocery run, was where he’d find himself after he’d had his first kiss on a night that felt like years ago. He couldn’t even imagine where he’d be with you in a couple of years. All he knew was he was glad you’d ended up as more than a summer fling.

feedback & reblogs are welcome and appreciated! ♡♡

teaser | masterlist

copyright 2022-2023 soobisms, all rights reserved. no translations or reposts of any form allowed.

[eatingstringcheese]

puppy love (doug remer)

or doug's a fucking menace with a thing for boobs fem reader, neutral pronouns (tits obviously) smut, pretty much just remer sucking tits ig.

Doug, despite his sporty “celebrity” lifestyle, enjoyed the simpler things. Maybe that's why he enjoys his life in baseketball so much, it's simple and there's not much to it.

He also loves cuddling with you. Which is the perfect example of something simple that he doesn't have to put his mind to. He likes to hold you, when he lays down on the couch first and you just lay on top of him, he'll rub your shoulders and listen to you talk, or let you nap in peace and he'll watch whatever's on tv.

He likes it even better when he’s the one laying on top of you. You’ll be sitting on the couch and here he is, ready to bury his face in your plush skin, usually your chest or stomach because then you’ll play with his hair. Scratching his scalp and twirling your fingers through his soft curls. He fucking loves that shit. Sometimes he goes for your thighs, drawing shapes in your skin and peppering kisses all over. He would never say it but he enjoys the domesticity of it all. Taking him away from the stressors of the season.

And today was no different. Some shitty movie was playing as a rerun when you’d sat down to relax in the living room. Doug was off at practice, and should be home soon so you took this time to read a book you’d had for a while and never got to finish (probably because Doug thought you looked smart and hot while reading, and so did his dick)

You were finishing up your chapter, getting into the groove of the book at the front door swung open. In walked Remer, shouting out a “honey, i’m home” and kicking his shoes off by the door. He walked into the living room, laughing as he bounded over to the sofa you laid on. He carelessly threw his shit across the room, dropped his bag and removed his practice jersey to leave them strewn across the living room. You almost scolded him but let him be. He quickly bounced on top of you. Burying his face into the crook of your neck for a minute before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, all tongue as per usual with Doug. Sloppy but passionate, just his style.

“Hey Dougie, how was practice?” You pulled him down to your chest, rubbing your hands up and down his back as he squirmed on top of you, adjusting himself to get into a more comfortable position.

He grinned at the nickname. Going into his spiel about practice, how Coop missed shots a billion times in a row, and how Doug made every single one of his. You smiled, burying your nose in his hair as he spoke, smelling what you were pretty sure was your shampoo in his hair. You’d brought it up once, how you seemed to be running out of shampoo faster than usual, and how Doug didn’t seem to keep any shampoo in the shower. He shrugged, a sheepish grin not hiding the fact that he used yours. (Coop also brought it up to him, making fun of Remer for being such a sap. It’s not his fault that smelling your shampoo on him made him happier, or that it made his hair so much softer.)

Doug began to trail off, stories from practice coming to an end. You picked your book up from where you placed it on the coffee table, setting your bookmark in and turning your full attention to Doug. He smiled, kissing your face repeatedly and laughing. His hand trails down from holding your face. Slowly moving down to your chest and holding one of your tits, you roll your eyes as he kisses you and gives it a light squeeze.

"God" he grins up at you, full smile as he gropes your tits in a way that would never be called subtle. "I must be in heaven. These are the perfectest fucking tits I've ever held." he groans softly, giving a few more squeezes before switching to the other one. When he’d decided he’d had enough of that, he pressed kisses onto every patch of exposed skin, trailing down to your shirt hem. 

“Babe, I really think you should just stop wearing shirts.”

You grinned. “Really Doug, why’s that?”

“It’s annoying.” he tugs at the bottom of your shirt, waiting for you to sit up and take it off. Once it’s thrown across the room, Doug reaches behind you to unclip your bra. Grinning at his skills of unclipping it one handed, he throws it over to where his practice jersey lay on the armchair. He dives back in head first, letting out his typical soft feminine moans at the feeling of your soft skin on his face.

“Babe, you really are the most perfect human being to exist.”

“Is that because of my amazing personality or my tits?” you tease him.

“Who’s complaining? Why can’t I love both?”

“Well seeing as the way you’ve been practically drooling I’m guessing its’ the latter.”

He grins, shamelessly playing with your nipples. Holding them gently as he ran his thumb over the hardening bud, tracing circles around it. A smile grew on his lips as you arched your back up to meet him. He took his hand, pinching softly and pulling on your nipple. Nearly melting into you as your soft moans left your body. Absolute music to his ears. He rutted into the couch every time you moaned, hips twitching

He leaned in slightly, kissing all over your breasts. Around each nipple, licking a stripe down the valley between your breasts. 

Remer licked, kissed, and sucked on your tits like a starved man. It was almost as if this was his last meal and sure as hell he was making it worth it. If he was honest, he could probably cum at just sucking on your tits. Not like he was some teenage virgin who couldn’t hold off until he at least put it inside you. (That's not to say he hasn’t done that before, because he has totally just gotten off to the thought of your tits. Many times during the away season.)

He continued placing open mouth kisses on your breasts, fondling one side as he paid all attention to the other.

Doug moaned, back arching as he kept his mouth on your nipple. Quiet, girlish moans vibrated your sensitive bud as Doug lost his breath, twitching and rutting against the sofa.

He pulled back suddenly, clearly somewhat ashamed of his behavior. You laughed softly, taking his face in your hands and making his soft eyes meet yours. You looked down for a second, taking notice to the darkening spot on the front of his practice shorts. You giggled.

“Did you seriously cum in your pants like some teenage virgin?” you made fun of him, kissing him softly when he nodded. You pressed kisses all over his face, from his temples to his jawline.

“That's okay Dougie. I’ll clean you up.” he smiled, immediately shooting up and pulling you into his arms, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom.

i got a horrid fucking migraine towards the end so if it's unreadable just ignore it i'll fix it later. love you pookies

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways. 

[tetrakys]

As a close friend of Chinomiko, how does your conversations go when it’s about mcl new gen, I’m pretty curious 🤭🤭 Because she probably can’t you stuff, so when you talk about your theories about each episode, she just sits and listens? heheh I wouldn’t be able to be her friend, I would probably beg her to spoil me!!

Ahah funny you say that because it's kinda the opposite, she knows I don't want to be spoiled in any way when it comes to plot or illustrations so no I don't discuss theories with her at all, that's what the fandom is for. We have often worked side by side on our own things and I'm not even tempted to snoop, I want to enjoy the games.

Of course it would be disingenuous to say that we don't talk about the games at all. We chat a lot about the characters, their personalities, not only New Gen but all her characters and OCs (her elf thief Thael? You'll see, he's going to be my Lance 2.0 😭💕😭💕). We also read the same books and talk about romance in general, tropes, things that people like and don't like. I do bring a player perspective when we chat about possible themes, and of course not everyone has my tastes and I absolutely don't act as if I'm representing the whole fandom, but I've been playing for so long that I can give suggestions on things I know the majority of players would hate or like.

For example, people were super scared that one of the LIs could possibly cheat at some point in the game, and I know for sure this is never going to happen because we've talked about this kind of things a lot. She miiiight create drama and make the MC and players think this is happening, just because she likes to torture her characters (and us all), but it won't actually happen. So, I guess in a sense I do have a different perspective on things, just because I know her and her tastes and opinions.

About New Gen, I honestly know nothing about what's going to happen, other than the fact that we will have more personal interactions with Jason starting the next episode, and that the story in general is kinda light hearted, there isn't going to be any real drama or deep plot. We should see it more as a sitcom than a drama, if we compared it to a tv show. And that's pretty much it 🤔 I'm trying hard to think if there's anything else I know that you guys may not know by this point but I can't think of anything. I do know she's many episodes ahead, but this isn't a secret, it was said many times even when working on other games, that the Bees are always at least one year ahead of us, so everything we see was planned a while ago, they can't really incorporate current feedback.

Would you really ask to be spoiled anon? I know it's tempting but I want to be surprised while playing the game 😌 I need to slowly fall in love 💕

[diamondcitydarlin]

I understand it's not even the fifth-most important point in your post, but I really think that going forward, making sure all creators (at least those of Gaiman's calibre) have as little direct access to fans as possible should be industry standard. We've all heard the horror stories about Vic whatshisface at cons and whatnot, but even the folks who aren't certified creeps detract more than they add to the fan experience (witness the five-alarm Drama that breaks out whenever creators make the tiniest ship-adjacent commentary in interviews).

Couldn't agree more. The Neil Gaiman allegations are not a new phenomenon by any means; we know from countless prior exposures that predators use fame and fortune to ensnare victims, especially those that have been predisposed from maybe even an early age to revere and idolize them. And like you say, even if someone in such a position of power/influence has no ulterior, sinister motives for reveling directly in their fan base, there are so many other things that can go awry from crossing those boundaries. (Gaiman himself warned of the legal complications that could arise from people sending him fanfic directly- you'd think that'd be reason enough for him to, yknow, not be constantly on tumblr interacting with the fanbase and tags, but ofc we know why now)

I think there's something to be said about the quick rise of the internet/social media and the consequences of that in fandom spaces, that we're kind of having to catch up and learn from difficult experience how best to set those boundaries between fandom and creators. It's easy to think we should have known better already, but Gaiman had been carefully crafting his persona for decades at that point and always seeming like one of the 'good ones' as so many others were exposed throughout the years. I think in fact that probably strengthened the parasocial bonds as people clung even harder to him as the precious exception to the rule.

And yet, still I'm somewhat left at a loss of what the hard and fast rules should be, and if they should be the same across the board or if there's any room for nuance. I know that crafting a social media presence, even a persona can be important for accruing a marketed interest (and just unavoidable in the world we live in now, for people in related careers) and I don't think creators/famous people showing appreciation and recognition of their fanbases has to be an inherently bad thing. I know that people enjoy having Q&A panels with creators and interviews asking divisive questions about pairings/plot decisions etc in a show has been a thing since TV digest- but of course, getting in a friendly debate with your IRL friend over whether the last interview from the head writer of Friends meant Ross would end up with Rachel or not is very different from online discourse with thousands of angry, opinionated strangers, and maybe that needs to be taken into consideration in future- that is, if the creators in question actually care about their fans and aren't stirring the pot on purpose, which could also be the case. Anyway.

What's also true and I think should be taken into consideration going forward is that people of Neil's wealth and level of fame don't really need to be constantly interacting with fans on social media. I feel the smarter, safer route there for everyone involved is to have an assistant or PR person to handle social media accounts and in Gaiman's case specifically I feel that this is the least his team could do in the way of restorative justice/keeping his fans safe. This time, he really shouldn't have any public social media he runs himself. I'm literally imploring his lawyers, people, whomever has the ability if you happen to be reading this, to just cut him the fuck off from now on. I don't think that's asking too much of anyone involved. (They have for the time being ofc, but I'm calling for a lifetime ban). As that relates to other famous people, I would say we need to just bear it in mind. A little healthy suspicion for someone famous that's just trying to 'hang out with the gang' on a routine, intimate basis because, like, why? To what end, exactly?

And maybe we need to also have some discussions about predator behaviors from celebrities/creators during in-person meetups, how to recognize them and what to do on an individual and fandom-wide level if it happens. Like, I don't personally think it's appropriate or advisable for a famous person to proposition a fan (regardless of age or gender identity) romantically/sexually at their first meeting with this person at a fan meetup (it's a fan meetup not speed dating), I don't think they should be giving fans their number or contact info (even if it's purely intended, it's not appropriate or safe for either party). I don't think creators/famous people should be commenting on their fans' appearances at these meetups even if it's 'positive' ('wow you're so beautiful'- though there's nuance here, like if someone's wearing a cosplay and it's only about that etc, it can be nebulous but I think yall know what I'm talking about). I think all of those things should be regarded by fans as possible red flags and I think creators should have enough of a sense of responsibility over the power dynamic to know better than to cross those boundaries. I also think fans should feel safe and supported when coming forward with stories of behavior like this and I think we have to always be prepared to learn and 'accept' things we wish weren't true about famous people we like but don't know (accept as in accept as true and then get to work on what restorative justice can be realistically achieved for the victims).

But yeah, I'm interested in knowing what others think about this. Has this revelation made you view the famous people you like differently? Do you think there are better, further methods that should be taken to put boundaries between creators and fans? What can we as fandom communities do better to keep each other safe going forward? I'd love if it we could discuss these issues further.

[separatist-apologist]

I just read an article in that guy who murdered two women. Absolutely horrifying. All the booktok crazies fawning over him reminds me of the women that would write letters to Ted Bundy while he was in prison.

I wasn't gonna answer this because I felt like I said what I needed to say and like, I was just preaching to preach but THEN while I was asleep, an anon came into my askbox to accuse me of not being a girls girl while intentionally missing my point. I blocked them before I thought of a good comeback (tragic) but like fellas is it anti-feminist not to stan a man who killed two women because (and this is so important to me) he hates women?

I'm gonna put the rest of this under a cut with a heavy trigger warning for domestic violence, I just want to say it and then I think I'm done talking about it because it's genuinely so disheartening.

Anyway, I think sometimes I get nervous to answer these kinds of asks because as a therapist I should know better than to speculate on people and what they're going through and whatever else, but as a person, its like...do you want to be picked that badly?

I think we all know by now that I work in DV and all the people fascinated with men like this fuck me up because like..."oooh what makes him tick, I want to talk to him, why did he do it-" and for me, I sit on the opposite end talking to survivors of violence asking the same questions with hollow eyes, with shaking hands, with safety plans meant to buy them just enough time to get out of their house so they aren't killed. I still think about some of the people I spoke with who didn't survive it.

When I was in grad school, I took a summer internship at the local DV court helping survivors with orders of protection. The system was set up better than a lot of other courts, but its still the legal system, you know? With all its flaws. My job was to flag for lethality based on what I was reading in the OPs and then reach out directly to survivors to help them navigate the process, connect them with resources, and sit with them in court. And I still remember this one particular woman who's situation was so desperately dangerous. We did a safety plan- and at that level, a safety plan isn't like, "remember to take your keys and wallet with you when you go", its "don't go into the basement or bathroom if he's in the house with you because there are too many hard surfaces, exposed pipes, and basins of water that making killing you easier. Go to a bedroom or closet because strangling a person is really hard and takes time," like THAT kind of safety plan. Anyway she thanked me, I remember this so well, she said thank you and I told her I'd call her the next week with an update and over the weekend he bludgeoned her to death.

And I guess I just don't think there is anything fascinating, interesting, or otherwise unique to men like this (obligatory yes I know women kill/abuse too). They're everywhere. I saw another post about how some podcaster is trying to get him on to talk to that guy and its like, why don't you just call up one of your friends' exes. Like. If you've got more than one female friend, you've probably got a friend who has experienced violence at the hand of a male partner, call him. Talk to him. Ask him why he did it, let him give you his made up story about trauma and sadness and oh life is hard because whatever whatever.

That's my thing. Books, movies, tv- they're not making people like this, and I'm not condemning people for what they enjoy in fantasy spaces. I am condemning it when you bring it out of those spaces and side against the women who were violently murdered because, and this is so important to me (did I say this already??), he HATES women. You are not special. You cannot fix him. He's not smart, or interesting, or fascinating and the having an attractive face is literally just chance and not something inherently moral.

And like, lastly, when you prop these men up and give them a platform, you signal to EVERY man just like him that there is something special and tragic about him. You let him play the victim, you let him rewrite the narrative, you shift the blame of his actions off of him and onto the people he hurt. Like with this particular man, you also side with a white supremacist so what are you saying to all your BIPOC/Jewish friends/mutuals, you know?

Anyway. That's my self-righteous rant, I guess.

[zahri-melitor]

Why is it every time someone asks for a list of introductory comics for newbies to get hooked people lose their goddamn minds and start reccing: elaborate Elseworlds that contain triple strength Justice Leagues and which have NO obvious sequels; genre-interrogation pieces frequently written 30+ years ago (even Hush is now over 20); a list of things that very specifically insist they’re Graphic Novels not Comics; and things with Giant Genre Conceit in them that can be confronting to newbies.

Most of this list achieves nothing. ‘Acclaimed story’ usually means the fans love it or the industry loves it, neither of which are barometers for if a NEWBIE will love it.

(There’s also a feedback loop between ‘people who watch Batman movies being recced The Dark Knight Returns so people think that’s what comic and Batman movies should be and disparage a whole list of BASIC superhero concepts’ but I’m tired today)

A far simpler list of suggestions to finding a starter comic for someone:-

1. Something written after 2000. The art will be more accessible. I PROMISE you it will help. You want something with art the person will actually enjoy.

2. Unless you KNOW they’ll get a kick out of something heavily stylised, stick to stuff with clean lines, good colour, and normal human proportions.

3. Ask/think what this person’s favourite stories/TV shows/movies are and PICK A COMIC WITH SIMILAR THEMES.

4. A limited cast list oh my god. Solos or team books for teams with a max of 4 members.

5. Don’t fall into the trap of going ‘an anthology book would be a great sampler’ don’t DO IT, give them an anthology once they’re hooked. You are trying to form babby’s first blorbo, they need to spend exclusive time together.

6. Minis are honestly great in that they have self contained stories, but if possible pick a mini for a character who actually has OTHER real appearances nearbyish. I want to shove Hawkgirl into everyone’s hands but I also know that getting more amazing Kendra stories soon is…unlikely.

7. Alternatively a contained solo run with at least 24 issues. Long enough to hook someone, by the end of it they’re probably ready to to branch out.

8. Honestly, think of your ‘I don’t usually read X family/imprint but this was great’ list more than your all time faves list. Better density of titles that are actually accessible without needing backstory.

[cjsoleil]

Straight From the Tortured Poets Department (Bang Chan x Reader)

Authors note: This is part two of a two part series, part one is right here. You don’t necessarily need to read the first one, but I recommend you do. Enjoy.

Time had gone by quicker than Chan and Y/N would have liked. If Chan wasn’t sure about the girl before, he certainly is now. He met her parents a little less than a month after they started dating, something Chan had been dreading. It was bad enough that he came from next to nothing and only had a shit job at a bar, but not meeting them before dating Y/N must not be doing him any favors.

It’s embarrassing, how nervous he was sitting across from her parents. Living under the circumstances he does, it’s safe to say he’s been in a number of stressful, nerve wracking situations. Despite this, he’s never been more anxious than at that moment.

It was a little out of the blue when Y/N had mentioned that since her parents were back in town, so he had to meet them. When he joked and told her she should give more of a warning, he found that it was unexpected for her too. She didn’t plan on telling her parents about Chan right away, but plans changed the day after her parents came back to town.

“So, what boy have you been hanging out with?” Y/N had nearly spit out her tea when she heard the question.

“What?”

“Marie said you’ve been spending some time with a boy.” Her mom called from the kitchen. Y/N simmered in the question for a bit, and wondered however Marie found out about her and Chan. She had thought back to when San saw her at the drive in and it becomes much more clear. San, despite not seeming like one, is a gossiper. He probably told the boy he always hangs out with, Wooyoung she believes his name is. And word spread as quickly as a forest fire. Luckily, they did not act outrageously. Though she actually had to introduce Chan to them now.

It went better than Chan thought it would. There was no yelling about how a man like him is unworthy of being in their daughter’s sight, and other than the threatening undertone her father had every time they spoke, he’s pretty sure Y/N’s parents kinda like him. Well, her mom likes him at least. On another note, Chan did get lucky. Y/N’s father had handed him a card, confusing him at that moment.

“Tell the secretary at front desk you are meeting me. Be there at noon on Monday. If you’re a minute late, don’t bother.” Chan had been speechless, reading the card. Y/N has never mentioned her father’s business before, so he wasn’t aware that he works at a famous publishing company.

Wait, not work. Owns.

Chan always knew Y/N’s family has money. It drips off the diamonds hanging on her ears and covering her wrists. Still he didn’t think her family was so rich.

Chan thanked the man profusely, repeating and repeating his gratitude so many times it must have been annoying. The company has published a number of works by his favourite artists and offers him a career he would never be able to get otherwise. Chan does not have any education, he never even finished high school. Originally he was concerned about this, but after expressing his worries to Y/N they disappeared.

“Chan dear, that doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t have offered you a job if you couldn’t do it.” Chan didn’t have any more concerns after that.

Y/N’s parents are gone again, her father needing to go to one of the department branches. Her mom always goes with him. That leaves the house to Y/N and Chan. Y/N has only been to Chan’s place once. It’s located in a less than safe area and Chan firmly believes his girl has no business being in such a place. It is a tad overprotective of him, but it can’t be helped.

The two watch a movie on Y/N’s tv. It’s some love story. Chan has never cared for them, but Y/N loves them. So they watch on as the man on screen sets up an elaborate scene to propose to his girlfriend.

“Quite obnoxious isn’t it?” Y/N comments from her spot under Chan’s arm. He looks over to her as he raises his hand to undo Y/N’s hair. She wears it up a lot more often now.

“You’re not into grand gestures?”

“That’s not what I said.” Chan runs his fingers through the girl’s hair, “Though I believe they’re unnecessary.”

“They can be sweet.” Is all Chan says, glancing over at the screen to see the male lead on his knee and the woman yelling yes.

Once the movie is over the two went upstairs to Y/N’s room. Chan is captivated by her collections. Shelves full with records and books.

“I never took you for a hoarder.” Chan comments, making the girl reach over and slap his shoulder, “You take good care of these.”

“Of course.” Y/N sits on her bed, and Chan picks a record, putting it on the record player. Music floods the room and he sits next to the girl.

“So anything special we’re going to do before you go?” Y/N hums, barely wanting to think about how she’s leaving town in a few weeks.

“Everything is special with you Chan dear.” She says it sickenly sweet without a hint of sincerity. He laughs and grabs her face softly, squishing her cheeks.

“You’re such a doll.”

Chan shakes Y/N’s face side to side before leaning in and kissing her pursed lips. It starts as one kiss, then two, and then Chan is holding Y/N’s face in his hands whilst kissing her passionately.

“I think I know.” Y/N whispers when Chan pulls away, nervously looking to the side, “A special thing we can do.” Chan takes a moment to process her words, before his eyes widen.

“Babydoll.” He practically groans the nickname, leaning in and kissing the girl quickly again, “Are you sure?” They have shared many passionate moments, but never went close into… that territory.

“We can wait til marriage- or longer if that’s what you want. Or never. Don’t worry about what you think I want, I only want you to be comfortable.” Y/N smile grows larger as she listens to Chan’s spiel. She places both of her hands on his shoulder, leaning forward.

“Sweetheart.” She stops his rant, “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Patting his face, she leans away and he can clearly see how red her face is, “Wait until marriage? That’s so far away, is it not?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Chan lifts Y/N’s left hand and kisses where the ring will be, “I’d marry you tonight if you wanted.”

“What would my parents think? Their daughter getting married without their knowledge.”

“And having sex out of wedlock is much better?” He laughs as Y/N makes an embarrassed sound and looks away from him.

“Don’t be so blunt.” It only makes him grin harder.

“Didn’t you just try to seduce me?”

“I didn’t- I-“ She sputters and Chan can’t help but press a hard kiss against her cheek.

“Now, to be serious.” He holds both her hands, “Is this something you really want?” “Do you love me Chan?” “More than words can ever express.” “So yes. I do want it.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands with a smile.

“It will hurt. I don’t want it to, but I fear it can’t be helped.”

“What is love without pain?”

“That’s a common misconception.” Chan says, “My love should never hurt you.” Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth, he starts to trail down to her jaw and neck. He gives a soft bite to the place below her ear before whispering to her, “So let me ask again. Are you sure?” Y/N’s faint whisper of ‘yes’ is all he needs to hear.

Chan grabs her face and brings her lips to his, hand going through her hair. He hears the girl hum when he bites her lower lip, and forces his tongue inside her mouth. Y/N has to physically push him away when she runs out of air, but he stays close. He moves to the side of her neck, one hand on her thigh. When her skirt starts to ride up, Y/N grabs his hand.

“Sorry.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as Chan pulls away, “Just instinct I guess.” He smiles softly.

“What else?” He tilts his head as she mumbles her answer, cute. “Hm?”

“I’m… embarrassed.”

“Of what? Your body?” He practically scoffs at the damn idea. Faster than Y/N can process, she is lifted to sit sideways on Chan’s lap.

“You can leave your clothes on, if that’s what you want. But don’t do it because you’re embarrassed or ashamed or for some stupid reason like that.” A kiss on one of the red marks on her neck. Since Chan’s hand was released upon placing the girl in her lap, he moves his hand up her thigh. Slowly so he can be stopped. He’s not. His hand reaches the fabric of her underwear and neither can hear the music playing anymore. Chan feels Y/N tense.

“Relax.” He tilts his head and brings the girl into a kiss in a attempt to sway her attention. He slips his hand into the fabric, swallowing her gasp.

As tempted as Chan is, he decides against dipping his finger inside just yet. Instead he lets his fingertips wander, smirking when Y/N lets out a cute little sound. After a while, he pulls his hand from under her skirt. The girl in his lap breathes heavily and Chan grins upon seeing what a effect he has on her.

“That’s nothing babydoll. Poor thing, you really don’t know what you’re in for.” He looks back at his fingers, a shine on them. Making eye contact with Y/N, he smirks before bringing his fingers to his own mouth, licking the wetness off of them and moaning at the taste.

Y/N is absolutely mortified, wishing she could close her eyes but her mind won’t let her. The heat pooling in her stomach is nearly unbearable and every time Chan opens his stupid mouth it gets worse. His deep and raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. The smirk he wears reminds Y/N of the devil he truly is, rather than the darling she is used to.

Y/N lets out a little shout when Chan suddenly stands. Chan drops her on the bed and climbs on top of her. He cages her head with his elbows and rests his forehead on hers.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“Hi.” She squeaks back.

“You okay?” She nods and when she says ‘yes’ he sits up. He smiles, and his hands start to go up her legs. Slowly, he pulls down her underwear and throws them to the side. He moves down and rests between the girl’s legs. Leaning upwards on her elbows, she looks down at Chan.

“What are you-“

“You trust me baby?” He interrupts before she can ask anything more, “Yes or no, Y/N.”

“Of course I do. Yes, but what-“ Y/N cuts herself off with a moan and her arms collapse, falling back on the bed. The feeling is gone after a moment and she is left wondering what the hell that was.

“What-“ She is cut off again, and for a split second she sees Chan’s head nearly disappeared under her skirt. He pulls back, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Folding the skirt up to Y/N’s hips, Chan returns to his spot. He licks directly over her hole before dipping the tip of his tongue inside. The girl gets louder. She’s never felt like this before. Chan swearing almost made her legs shake, he’s never done that in front of her before. On instinct, Y/N grabs Chan’s hair in her hands and tries to push him away. She doesn’t get away with it, as Chan grabs both hands and pins them on the bed.

“Be a good girl.” And he presses her hands into the mattress slightly for good measure before letting go. This time, he grabs both of Y/N’s legs and rests them on his shoulders. He keeps a strong hold on her thighs and goes back down. Rather than just the tip, he forces most his tongue into her hole, making her cry out.

“Channie!” She clenches the blankets, moan after moan being forced from her lips as Chan dips his tongue inside her, licks and sucks at her clit. Occasionally he will let out a moan of his own, Y/N feels the vibration in her bones. She doesn’t know why he’s doing so though, since this can’t possibly be doing anything to make him feel good. She doesn’t think that hard about it. She can’t really think about anything other than Chan. Unknow to her, Chan is truly having the time of his fucking life eating his girl.

Suddenly a near scream like noise fills the room, and Y/N barely registers that the sound came from her. Chan had put two fingers inside her without warning, kissing her clit. “Oh- oh my god Chan.” She whines and he lifts his head just to show her a dangerous smirk. His mouth is wet and oh this is so embarrassing.

“Isn’t that nice?” He scissors his fingers, “Don’t you feel good?” Y/N doesn’t give a proper and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that, sucking her clit hard, making her cry out. “Words doll.”

“Good.” She pants out moving a hand to pet Chan’s head. He lets her, “So good Channie.” She yells out his name again when he adds another finger. Chest rapidly rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. Pretty girl.” His fingers curl inside her and something about it is different, it makes Y/N grip Chan’s hair so hard tears may have been brought to his eyes while she brings up her other arm and bites down on her forearm to cover up the much to loud sound that comes out of her. “Oh you like that baby?” Chan moves his fingers to touch that spot again, making her whine, “Yeah, I know you do.”

After a few minutes of torment, Chan moves up the bed to kiss Y/N’s lips, up her jaw and to her temple. He moves his thumb to replace where his mouth was previously. It brings a burning feeling to her stomach and her whole body tenses. Y/N reaches out to hold Chan’s wrist and push him away. This time, Chan doesn’t bother moving her hands, the weak pressure on his wrist doing nothing to faze him.

“Chan- Chan I feel-“ The sentence is not finished, the girl shoving her face in the pillow under her head. “What is it?” Chan forces her to look at him with a hand to her chin, “Tell me.” “Feels weird.” Y/N mumbles with a lack of better words to describe it. Chan laughs lightly. “Weird, you say?” He leans down to Y/N’s ear, his whispered words sounding like shouts, “Do you feel like you’re burning baby? Like you’re being held over a fire and forced to feel nothing but the flames kissing your skin?” He places a barely there kiss on her earlobe, leaving her skin red and hot, “Or are you overwhelmed? Are you drowning, with nothing but pure desperation rushing through your vains to get what you need?”

Not a single word was registered by the girl on the bed, Chan knows. He still only smiles as he moves his fingers faster, grabbing her face again to get her attention. “Be a good girl and let it go, I got you.” And Y/N is pulled into a completely different world. At least that’s what it feels like.

Her grip on Chan’s wrist slackens, and he pulls his hand away to see indents of her nails on his wrist. Not that it matters. He focuses on running his clean hand through her hair and dries his other one using the bedsheets.

When Y/N can finally force herself to speak, she doesn’t really know what to say. So the first thing that comes to mind is what is spoken, “That was nice.” In a single second Chan bursts into laughter, leaning his head down onto her shoulder. “Yeah it was.” He agrees, “That was your first time cumming?” Y/N face turns an even darker shade of red as she nods. Chan didn’t have to ask, he just wanted to get an answer. It boosts his ego, being the first and only person to ever make his girl feel like this, “You ready for more?” “There’s more?” Chan can’t tell if she’s being serious but even Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are drawn downwards to the front of Chan’s pants and there’s a lot more.

Chan first takes off his shirt, and the sight of his bare torso is not an unfamiliar one to Y/N. He runs hot, and often is not wearing a shirt when they are alone. Still, Y/N can never resists running her fingers along the outline of his chest, down to his stomach and over his abs. While his torso is something the sculptors in Paris can only dream of having as a muse, it’s really Chan’s arms that get her going. Large and muscular, showing just how easy it is for him to throw her around when he wants to. His pants are next, along with his boxers. Y/N refused to look, keeping her eyes on Chan’s face. His hands go up to Y/N’s shirt asking softly if it was alright for him to take it off. The answer is yes, all embarrassment regarding Chan seeing her body gone after what he has just done. Soon, the two are left naked on the bed.

“Stop staring at me.” “An impossible task, beautiful.” Y/N rolls her eyes and lets out a gasp when she feels Chan’s tip inside her. “This is the painful part, but I promise I’ll go slow. Feel free to punch me if you want.” Chan starts to push in and hell it does hurt. Despite being stretched out, Chan’s big, and it hurts. Background to the pain is an undertone of pleasure, and Y/N keeps her hand covering her mouth to muffle her sounds. “Shit. Shit, you feel so good.” Chan moans and presses his lips to her neck. He lets out a small whimper as he unconsciously thrusts forward, bottoming out, “Just- hm- tell me when you’re ready.” He kisses down her neck to her collar bone and top of her chest as he waits for Y/N to ready herself, “I know it hurts. Your body is not familiar with mine, but it will recognize me after tonight. It will understand I belong right here.” He finds one of her hands and interlock their fingers.

A few moments pass, and Y/N taps his shoulder “You-you can move.” Chan smiles and lifts himself up a little, not before pressing a long kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Hold onto me.” Y/N nods and rests her hands on the man’s shoulder blades. He starts slow, sweet as he gently rocks his hips. Soon though, Y/N is tapping her hands on his back and is asking, begging him to give her more. “You want me to fuck you harder, hm?” Y/N moans louder at his word choice. Chan never talks like that in front of her. Always one to behave in front of a lady, like he loves to say. “Please Chan.” Chan smirks, saying something about how his girl is so polite before he starts to pull out completely and thrusting hard.

Y/N scratched up Chan’s back, not having enough conscious to consider that it may be hurting him. Chan welcomes the sting though, he kind of hopes they scar. A physical claim for her to make on him. “It’s amazing, you know?” A particularly hard movement, “Every gasp, every moan. You create poetry without saying a single word. What a talent.”

“Chan. Channie.” She moans out and pushes Chan down to meet her for a kiss. Tears fill her eyes and threaten to fall since she feels so much more sensitive now. He pulls away and kisses the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Sweet, a drastic contrast to how he’s moving. After a few attempts, Chan finds an angle that hits Y/N’s spot, making her muffle a scream in her pillow. “Please more, Chan Chan-“

“Fuck.” Chan clenches his jaw when Y/N tightens around him, feeling just on the edge of release. With a grunt, he wraps his arms around Y/N, one hand holding the back of her head and the other at her lower back as he picks her up. Chan settles her in his lap and doesn’t give her any time to even process the sudden change in position as he grounds himself on the bed and thrusts up into her. Grabbing her waist, Chan pushes Y/N down as he thrusts up, making him go in deeper. “Come on babydoll. Come for me.” Arms wrap around his neck, Chan feels her bite his shoulder and tighten around him, “Atta girl.”

When Y/N comes down from her high, Chan gently pulls out and kisses her, letting her stay seated in his lap. “Chan you didn’t, um…” Y/N doesn’t finish her sentence, blood rushing to her face as Chan stares at her with a smile. He looks a mess, hair messed up, a bite mark on his shoulder and scratch marks on his arms. If he looks like that, she can only imagine how she herself looks. “I don’t think we should start a family until we’re married.” Chan kisses close to the middle of Y/N’s chest, where her heart lies under skin, muscle and bones. “Well-yes, I agree but I mean… can I help you?”

Chan blushes at that moment, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Do you want to?” Y/N affirms that she does, “Okay.” He pecks her lips, “Touch me baby.” Y/N brings her hand to Chan’s chest, kissing his shoulder as her hand goes downwards until her fingertips make contact with Chan’s cock. She touches him carefully, too nervous to do anything more. “Wrap your hand around me.” Y/N obeys, holding Chan in her hand. Chan moans loudly, jerking his hips, he doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to not come inside her earlier, “Shit. Fuck yes, that’s good honey. Move your hand a bit- yeah just like that.” Y/N barely needs to do anything before Chan is cumming, groaning into her neck.

When he feels alive again, Chan wipes off Y/N’s hand and his own stomach with the bed sheet before lying down, bringing Y/N with him. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married tonight?” Chan asks and a laugh echos through the room, over the music playing on the record player, “Ah Nevermind. I don’t have a ring yet.” “Maybe when I come home for the holidays.” “A winter wedding sounds lovely.”

Standing at the train station together, Chan thinks that maybe this was a fraction of the feeling military wives felt while sending their husbands off to war. Not the same, because there is no fear that Y/N will not be coming back, but the point still stands.

“Have you ever been on a train, Chan dear?” “Yes. But not the formal way.” That makes Y/N look at him with a confused expression,

“I used to train hop.” The girl nods looking forward towards the tracks. The autumn wind has just started to come out, messing up both their hair. The sun is setting, giving a warm golden hue to the world around them. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t able to make it.” Y/N shrugs, it’s not a big problem to her. “It’s alright. You’re here.” “Forever.” A voice rings through the speakers, announcing that the next train will arrive soon. “That’s me.” Y/N looks towards Chan, “You gonna miss me Channie?” “Not at all.” He pulls Y/N into a hug as she laughs at him, “I feel as if you are going to war.” Y/N pulls back from their hug, but stays close enough for Chan’s arms to remain around her waist. “School is not quite the same as a battle field.” “Either way, I will miss you just as much.”

Y/N has to look away from him when she feels her eyes water, “Hey, hey. Come here.” Chan wraps his arms around her from behind, swaying as they stand facing the horizon. Normally, Y/N would never allow Chan to display such affection in public, as it isn’t appropriate to do so. This time though, she lets it happen for both their sakes. “You know, one love the sunset when they are sad.” Y/N smiles upon hearing the reference. “Why is that?” “Many different reasons. Maybe because it marks the end, because it brings tomorrow just a little bit closer.” Chan rests his chin on Y/N’s head, “Or maybe it’s because the sky is beautiful at this time.”

They watch the sky until another train arrives. Y/N doesn’t have to say a word as she turns around just for Chan to bring her into a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up on her tiptoes as Chan bends down. It’s not even a deep kiss, but it conveys their feelings all the same.

Together they walk to the train and once onboard, Y/N quickly finds a seat next to the window and sticks her head out the open window. Chan waits just below and holds up his arm. Y/N reaches out and holds his hand. “I love you babydoll.” Is all he says before he places a kiss on the palm of her hand, the back and her ring finger, “I will be ready with a ring when you come back.” “Will you propose at the train station?” “The odds are not slim.” He gives another kiss. “I love you too.” Y/N says over the train engine, as they just are about to start moving. She is not close enough to see it, but a tear does fall from Chan’s eye.

The train moves very slowly at first, so Chan walks along with it and doesn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. Soon though Chan is forced to let go and Y/N assumes that he will stay still and let her pass, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing?” The question comes out as a laugh when Chan starts running along side the train. “A grand gesture!” He yells back, and runs until he can’t keep up anymore. Y/N waves as Chan disappears into the distance, before eventually sitting down in her seat. She cannot wait to be on this train again, with snow falling behind the windows and going the opposite direction.

“Chan dear, the last one if for you.” Y/N gestures to the final box under the Christmas tree. They sit together on the floor, along with their dog. A older mutt, used to be stray called bandit, “It’s fragile. So please be gentle.” “Ah, I hope it is nothing outrageous babydoll.” Chan smiles as he undos the perfectly tied ribbon on the box before he takes off the lid. “You didn’t doll.” Chan laughs as he reaches to grab what’s inside the box. “Oh but I did.” Chan lifts a small, King Charles Spaniel puppy out of the box. She squirms as Chan looks at her. A little red bandana is tied around her neck, ‘Berry’ sewed into the fabric in white. Chan brings the puppy closer to his face and allows her to give him plenty of face kisses. Bandit makes sure to get closer too, sniffing at the new family addition.

“I love you.You are the best wife a man could have, you know that?” Chan asks as puts Berry in his lap to lean over and kiss Y/N’s lips, before grabbing her hand and kissing the ring on her finger. One he gave to her three years ago. “I love you too, and of course I am.” The puppy crawls out of Chan’s lap and over to the woman, who allows Berry to rest on her leg with her head on her stomach. She makes sure to pet the older dog too, since like Chan, he tends to be a little jealous at times as well. “You’re not going to be the only lady of the house anymore.” Chan smiles and rubs the puppy’s ear.

“Oh we may overpower you soon.” Y/N laughs and gestures to her stomach, “We are still unsure as to what we will get.” “Ah, but I’m sure he will be a boy.” Chan places his hand on his wife’s belly. He quickly leans down and gives her belly a kiss before straightening up and kissing his wife properly.

“You cannot possibly know that.” “I have a feeling.” “And if she ends up being a girl?” “Then I will love her just as much.”