#i've been banging my head against it for over a week now

[forestery-mods]

News update!

I am working on updating my Mini Peets gear to DT and to the new Mini models, but I'm running into some specific issues I can't seem to figure out how to fix.

So no eta on release yet, but once I find what is causing the problem, the Asphodelos Gaiters will be the first ones out! :D

[junpcs]

moniqa………..

[sushirrrry]

TRACE a harry styles x original character one-shot word count: 7,785 cw: this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written, but harry is very hot summary: a shy writer commissions a tattoo from an artist who is way too hot to handle; she can’t stop staring at his hands while he works. and, he notices quite quickly. tag list: @gotdrxnkonu @mads3502 @mellamolayla reply to this story if you would like to be added to the tag list in the future! enjoy, and let my know what you think <3 home - send me a message - masterlist

When something got into Lily’s head, it stayed there. It stayed there for a long while, and even though Lily had no intention of really ever getting a tattoo, something about the idea felt like a step forward. Lily had trouble with decision making; while that was a terrible quality for permanently inking skin, it had grossly taken over her brain that she just wanted to do something different.

All of her friends – the two that were the closest, really – had tattoos, a few actually. She didn’t want to just be like them, but she wanted to fit in, in a way. She wanted to be able to share experiences with people, even if it were in small ways that were her own decisions. While indecisive, she knew that she could at least say that she made the decision to walk through the front doors of a tattoo shop and ask for something that she wanted.

Or, at least, get their opinion on it first.

The bell above the door chimed, a soft, musical sound that echoed through the quiet shop. The décor caught her eye first – lots of art deco, prints on the walls, a leather couch that could have easily stepped out of 1970. Lily stepped inside, heart thudding hard enough she could hear it in her ears – she had been noticed by the girl at the front desk now, so she couldn’t just leave.

The air was thick with the scent of ink, leather, and something smoky-sweet that made the place feel untouchably cool. It was the kind of cool that lived in the margins of a life she didn’t know how to be part of, but she was trying her best.

Her fingers tightened around the crumpled piece of paper she carried; it had a few quotes that she’d picked weeks ago but hadn’t had the nerve to act on until now. They were all quotes from her favorite works, but she didn’t know where one would fit best, or where it would fit best.

The shop was dimly lit, but cozy. Exposed brick walls were plastered with art: flashes of color, delicate lines, portraits that seemed almost alive. A soft buzzing sound came from a back room, like a needle whispering against skin. It was sharp and delicate, and she appreciated the artistic value that these works of art held. Lily shuffled forward, swallowing hard as she approached the front desk.

Behind the front desk sat a woman with dark hair that sat on her shoulders, bangs higher on her forehead, and tattoos trailing up both arms like ivy. Her neck was inked with blues and oranges, delicate flower pieces that she could tell had beautiful delicacy. She looked up from her half-finished crossword puzzle, and her mouth pulled into a slow, warm smile — the kind that said, I see you, and it’s okay.

“Hi there,” She greeted, setting down her book. “Are you here for an appointment with someone?”

Lily swallowed, clearing her throat as she gave her best, confident smile back. “Oh – um, no I don’t have an appointment actually,” Her hands held the piece of her paper before she approached the desk, “Do I need an appointment?”

The woman shook her head with a smile, “You don’t need one, we do walk-ins. Do you have a design in mind?”

Lily raised her brows, “Um, yes. I do,” She placed the quotes on the desk for the woman to look at; she had chewed her gum a bit as she nodded.

“A quote is super easy – we can definitely get you in today. We only have one artist here today, so we’ll have to have him draw something up for you. Is this your first tattoo?" The woman asked, tapping her pen against the desk in rhythm with the low thump of music playing somewhere deeper in the shop.

Lily nodded, cheeks burning. She hated how obvious her nerves always were.

The woman leaned in a little, her voice lowering like they were sharing a secret. "No worries, love. You're in good hands here. Everyone has to do something for the first time every once in a while. I’m Kaila, by the way.” She stuck out her hand to help ease Lily’s nerves a bit.

“I’m Lily.” Lily answered, shaking Kaila’s hand before feeling a bit of relief from her prior anxiety. She still felt the rumbling of her heart against her chest, but it had started to ease.

“Well, Lily, I think,” Kaila checked behind herself, neck stretching to see behind the curtain where the sound of the tattoo gun was coming from. “I think we have our artist finishing up here in a minute. Let me check.”

Before Lily could even think to protest, the woman disappeared behind a beaded curtain that rattled softly in her wake. A few voices were heard – a deep, low voice came from that direction before Lily saw Kaila reappear from behind the curtain.

“He’s finishing up in a minute, so you’re welcome to have a seat. Here,” She handed Lily a large book, “Try and see if any fonts jump out at you while you wait.”

With a nod, Lily took the book in her hands before going to sit on the sofa. She had tried to steady her breathing, focusing on the drawings pinned to the wall — intricate vines curling around skeletal hands, bold quotes stitched into roses. She perused through the pages of the book, calligraphy of many sizes and curves. She bit her lip, feeling a bit overwhelmed with that decision. She was halfway through convincing herself to just leave when she heard a low, amused voice.

“Come back in a week or so, we’ll let that heal for a bit. Kaila will get you on my book,” Two men approached from behind the curtain; one had significantly shorter hair that had streaks of blue through bleach. It was so much more alternative than Lily could pull off, surely. His arms were coated in colorful ink and a bandage that coated the inside of his left arm.

The other man had shaggy brown hair, tortoiseshell glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose that held a small silver hoop. He was tall, had a short button-down shirt that held a checkered pattern, a tighter white t-shirt sat underneath it. The jeans sat on his hips with a baggie fashion, the Converse on his feet were filthy and worn to the point of unfathomability.

He was downright beautiful in a way that Lily should have run.

“It’s going to look so sick when it’s finished,” The brown-haired man told Kaila with a smirk. He joined Kaila behind the desk while she took the other man’s payment and got another appointment. Lily had been staring at the interactions, trying not to be obvious as she kept flipping through the book.

In a moment of staring, her eyes reached up to see that Kaila bumped the man with her shoulder, nodding her head towards Lily with a smirk. The man’s attention drew to her; Lily didn’t know what to do but smile back.

"You must be Lily."

She stood from her spot on the sofa, and the breath she'd been trying to catch abandoned her completely.

The man standing there looked like every fictional bad boy she'd ever secretly fallen in love with between the pages of her books. He was a vision of sorts. His messy, dark hair fell into his green eyes, which crinkled slightly at the corners like he laughed more than he should. The tattoos crawled up his forearms in swirling black ink, disappearing beneath the sleeves of the button down that covered muscles that flexed when he pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. And the way he looked at her — like he already knew she was nervous, and found it almost unbearably charming — made something in Lily's chest twist hard.

"I’m Harry," he said, his voice rough and lazy, the kind of voice made for midnight conversations and whispered secrets. He reached a hand out for a shake greeting, to which Lily reciprocated. The only thing she could do was smile back, barely able to form a word.

Lily swallowed, feeling her own pulse against her throat. She nodded, too flustered to trust her voice yet. Harry made his way back to the desk where Kaila stood, Lily followed.

“So, Lily,” Harry said, dragging his knuckles lightly across the counter as he leaned in; Lily took note of the way that his arms were coated with ink, each one telling a different story of a different time, she was sure. “Tell me about this tattoo, then.”

His mouth tugged into a slow, crooked grin, like he already knew she’d stammer her way through it.

Lily unfolded the paper with shaking fingers, offering it like a peace treaty as she slid it across the counter. Harry’s head turned slightly to be able to read some of the words on it.

“I… um, they’re quotes,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes, even though, in her mind, she was already completely in way over her head. “One’s from Jane Eyre - it’s, ‘Conventionality is not morality’, and then I have this Oscar Wilde quote, 'All art is quite useless’ which I just think is quite on-the-nose,” Her voice wobbled as she kept talking, making eye contact with him every so often to make sure that he was engaged.

“Oh, and then this one, from Anna Karenina, 'Yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking’. I think it’s just beautiful. I’m just not sure where I want it yet - or which one I want, I guess. I only want one.”

Harry took the paper from her, his fingers brushing hers — warm, calloused. He had marks on his knuckles, some scrapes, she could tell. Lily’s stomach flipped at the interaction, but she took in a deep breath to try and even out her breath.

He scanned the quotes, his brow furrowing slightly in thought, then lifted his gaze back to hers, softer now, like he understood more than he let on.

“We can take our time figuring it out,” he said, voice low. “That’s the best part.”

He rounded the counter, moving with a lazy kind of grace that made her toes curl in her boots. He stood close, leaning against the front desk as he studied the paper closely. He was close enough that she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the tiny silver ring in his left ear.

“The decision on where to put it is mostly about if you want it somewhere only you can see, maybe,” Harry murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a shiver down her spine as she thought of him seeing it. Of him painting it on her. “Or somewhere you can show it off, if you want the world to know you’re braver than you look.”

From behind the desk, Kaila watched the interaction and the way he spoke to her, a satisfied smirk tugging at her mouth as she picked up her crossword again.

Meanwhile, Lily felt her entire face heat, but her feet stayed planted. She couldn’t look away from Harry if she tried. “I-I’m down for whatever, really. I just – um.” She cleared her throat, fingers playing with her bottom lip as she tried to think about his suggestions. Harry tilted his head, studying her like she was something delicate and fascinating, like he didn’t want to rush and risk breaking the moment.

"Here’s what we’ll do," he said, voice almost a purr. "I'll draw up a sketch so you can see it on you. No ink yet, just a little marker. It'll help you picture it."

Lily opened her mouth to say something — to agree, to flee, she wasn’t sure — but the words caught somewhere behind the pounding of her heart. Harry smiled like he already had his answer. He took the piece of paper that she had crumbled and written on.

"Come on back," he said, jerking his head toward the beaded curtain, where a tall leather chair sat against the wall, His hand brushed lightly against the small of her back as he led her over — a barely-there touch that made her skin tingle under her sweater.

She perched on the edge of the seat, feeling like a statue — awkward and frozen, almost like she was at the doctor’s office— as Harry grabbed a very fine-tipped marker from a nearby tray. He popped the cap off with his teeth, tossing it aside with a lazy flick of his wrist.

“Do you have a kind of an idea of what you want it to look like?” He sat on a chair next to her, a notebook in his hand as he sat the piece of paper on the notebook for reference. Before she could answer he had already started a freehand sketch of the design.

“Um, I think just more of a pretty font,” She nodded, crossing her ankles. “Maybe more of a like,” She shrugged, “Softer?”

Harry nodded, which let a piece of his hair fall over his glasses. “Just letting you know that I actually like the Anna Karenina quote the best. Don’t make that decision based on me, though. It’s your body.”

“Any reason?” Lily found herself asking, feeling that it was a bit bold of her to even create an open conversation.

Harry shrugged, with a smirk that revealed a dimple in his right cheek. “Guess no reason. It would make a boyfriend happy to see his girl wearing a quote like that, I think. It would be a good nod to a good love.”

Lily felt her cheeks flush a heat that made her shake her head. “I-I don’t – uh, there’s no boyfriend.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep the smile from revealing on his face before he looked up from his notebook. “Good to know,” He shrugged then, “I think it’s the most poetic. Any reason you want a quote before a drawn art?”

Lily licked her lips, “I’m a writer, and I think having written works on me is like – I don’t know. It makes sense to me.”

With a nod, Harry understood it. “I get that, same with me and drawn art, I guess. Makes sense to me.”

Lily watched his continue to draw on the notebook for another moment before he seemed satisfied with how he had finished it. He sniffled, scrunching his nose before he lifted his head.

"Mind if I...?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to her arm. “Do you have anything on under the sweater? Or you can roll it up if it’s more comfortable.”

Lily took in a breath as she shook her head, as if it was stupid to wear the most clothes to a place where she needed to show skin. "Oh, yeah, of course.” Instead, she threw the sweater over her head, leaving her in a plain white t-shirt. A flush of her skin came back in a rush when she realized that she hadn’t put on a bra, leaving her a bit more intimate than she had intended.

She hadn’t thought this far – how stupid could she have been.

Instead of overthinking it now, she offered her forearm like it was some kind of ancient, sacred ritual.

“Just going to touch you,” He smirked, “Know that goes without saying, but I just want you to know that you can tell me to stop or let go whenever – sometimes people think they can’t do that, but just letting you know… you can.”

Harry’s fingers wrapped gently around her wrist, his touch firm but somehow careful, like he could feel the way her pulse raced under her skin, she was sure of it. Slowly, he pressed the tip of the marker to the inside of her forearm, right where the skin was soft and sensitive; Lily breathed out at the unfamiliar touch. His other hand steadied her, thumb brushing in slow, absent circles against her skin.

"Here’s one idea," he murmured, voice low and private. "Something you can glance at whenever you need it. Something just for you, but for everyone too."

Lily's breath caught as he sketched a delicate curve of letters along her skin, his hand feather-light, almost reverent.

Then, without warning, he lifted his hand to let his thumb touch her collarbone with a slight rub motion. The rest of his fingers grazed over her shoulder.

"Could go here too," he said, his knuckles grazing the edge of her shoulder. "Something that peeks out when you wear a wide neckline, if that you’re thing. A bit teasing."

The word teasing hung heavy between them, almost like he noticed the fact that her nipples were practically on display for the world. He didn’t make it known that he was catching glimpses, but maybe he was quite more of a gentleman than that.

Harry's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, the air between them snapped tight like a wire. His hand was still at her shoulder, his thumb now resting on her skin like he hadn’t had any reason to let go.

Lily's skin burned under his touch. She swore he could hear her heart pounding.

"And then there's always..." His voice dropped even lower, tougher, more dangerous. He let his fingers trace — just barely — along the outside of her ribs, not quite touching, more of a whisper of suggestion. "...somewhere a little more private, if that’s your thing.”

Her breath hitched audibly; she flinched just a bit even though he hadn’t touched her. The smirk on his face was bitten back as he shook his head.

Harry grinned, wicked and beautiful, then. "No pressure," He said, sitting back as he ran his fingers to push his hair back but slowly, like he wanted her to feel every second of the space he left behind. "Just giving you options."

She swallowed hard, trying to understand the understated feeling of tension that laid between them. It was almost like he had the charisma of a movie star, but she knew that she shouldn’t feel special. Men like Harry didn’t look at girls like Lily.

"Maybe...” She managed, her voice barely above a whisper as she felt the way that her own hand ran her thumb over the site of her ribcage. “Maybe here, I guess. Will it hurt?”

Harry took a sip of the water cup that sat on his station; it kept him from showing the overzealous smile that would appear on his lips at the way that she suggested the private site. He started to smile; it widened like the sun coming up over some dangerous horizon.

"Good call," he said, picking up his pen, "And hey," he added, voice a soft scrape near her ear as he leaned in, "First tattoos are supposed to hurt a little. And I’m pretty good at making sure you’ll like it enough to come back for more. It’s an addicting kind of pain.”

Harry had moved towards the notebook, before he went to go prep the transfer. “Did you like the font of that?” Harry asked, referencing the quick sketch in the middle of her arm that he had given her for reference. “Size too?”

Lily took in a breath, staring at it before she bit her lip, “I think I want it a bit more… rougher, I guess. Nothing too professionally written, I guess. More like regular, messy cursive handwriting. And the size is good. Can we do it in a stanza? Overlapping each comma. You know?”

Staring at the work on her arm, Harry nodded at her notes. Letting his own hand mimic the way that she wanted it – the notes had given him a bit of a warmth in his chest to know that she was asking for exactly what she wanted. On the paper, he turned to show her his interpretation of her thoughts before he pushed his glasses on his nose.

“Something like that?” He asked, Lily’s eyes looked over the design. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before she nodded and looked back at him.

Yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.

“That’s perfect.” Lily told him in all honesty; her vision, while very biased on the fact that she was unable to really decide on her own what she liked, was definitely brought to happiness with the way that he sold his design and where she should have it.

“Awesome,” Harry said, pleased with the way that she agreed without any further remarks. This step always took much longer, as people wanted their design to be something in their head – Harry had to figure out how to bring their designs to life, but he was creative in that sense. He could usually try to understand them by their character, getting to know them a little bit before designing it.

He just knew that Lily would like this, without knowing her at all.

“So, I’m going to go trace this for you really quick so I can get a stencil. Grab a soda of something out of the fridge, make yourself comfortable. This shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes or so,” He told her, “It will take more to prep and clean you up than anything else. Also, assuming you want black ink?”

Lily let her hands fold in her lap before she nodded at his instruction, “Yes, black is good.”

With that, Harry stood from his own seat before taking his work over to trace it for stenciling. While they were apart, Lily took the moment to let out the largest breath that had been holding back in her lungs. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself.

Now, she lay back against the leather chair, her sweater discarded on her lap as she tried to play with a loose string. Her eyes shut in a few flutters before she laid her head back and stared at the ceiling. She turned her head for a moment to stare at the way that Harry’s back arched over the small desk that held the stencil he was carefully tracing.

She didn’t know what to do with her hands – she grabbed her purse, taking her phone out of her purse before she brought up her text messages with her best friend, Tess. She rolled her lips into her mouth before she snapped a quick photo of the set up where the ink and tattoo gun were held.

Lily:  Going under the knife… or gun?

Lily: Also… the artist could not be cuter if he tried

“Okay, this is where you need to stand up so we can make sure it’s straight.” Harry’s voice took her out of her phone, startling her a moment before she nodded. She moved herself out of the leather chair, placing her feet on the floor, using her hands to make sure that her silk skirt was straight.

“Also, the cowboy boots are sick, by the way.” Harry complimented her with a bite of his own lip. Lily noticed their height difference when she looked from her boots up to him; the shine of his nose ring caught her eye before she blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you- I, uh, thrifted them in Shoreditch a few weeks ago,” The genuine brown leather hit against her calves as she showed them off a bit, “Thought they were fun. My first time wearing them.”

“You pull them off well.” Harry nodded. There was a slight tension as Lily cleared her throat; shaking her head, they found the moment of silence to be too much. Harry broke it.

Reaching over his station, Harry worked silently at the little rolling table nearby, snapping on a pair of black gloves with a crisp snap. The sound made her flinch — not from fear — but something deeper. Anticipation, maybe.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice so low and easy it crawled over her skin like smoke. "I’m gonna clean the area first, and then I’m gonna to lay the stencil where I think you’ll like it. If you don’t like it, we can do it again.”

Lily nodded, even though her throat had gone bone dry.

Taking a seat in his chair, Harry rolled closer, a small squeeze bottle and cloth in hand. She stood taller than him now, but she would have to admit the view from above may have been just as good – if not better.

“So, just lift your shirt up – which are we thinking, right or left?” He watched as Lily took the edge of her shirt in her hands before she looked between them, incredibly indecisive, but also without a care, so she just stated, “Left, I think will be better.”

Harry wheeled himself to her left ribcage, using his glove to push her hand up a bit to show more of her skin.

“You doing okay?” He asked; when he received the nod of her, he used his thumb to brush the latex over her skin before using the wipe to clean the area. Lily flinched at the chill of the cool wipe before Harry looked up at her – she had been staring straight ahead.  

The antiseptic was cool against her overheated skin, making her jerk slightly when he swiped it along the curve of her ribcage. He steadied her with a gentle, gloved hand at her side.

"Sorry," Harry said, grinning, "It's always a shock at first."

Lily could barely breathe, acutely aware of everywhere he touched — even though he was professional, methodical, only exposing the small area he needed to work on.

Still, the intimacy of it — the way he had to tilt and maneuver her slightly toward him, the way his hands bracketed the sensitive space just beneath her breast — it felt like too much and not enough, all at once.

"There we go," he said, voice all concentration now. "Now stay real still for me, okay?"

She nodded again, uselessly, because the second the stencil met her skin, she swore she could feel him — the heat of his body, the careful drag of his focus on the straightness of the stencil. She could have sworn his face was close enough that a few strands of his messy brown hair brushed against her bare side.

"You're doing good," Harry murmured after a minute, his breath ghosting over her ribs. "Very good."

Lily squeezed her eyes shut. She was utterly doomed.

When he finished the stencil, he sat back just slightly to admire his work, pulling off one glove with a snap to smooth the tracing paper carefully against her skin. The backs of his fingers skimmed her ribs — feather-light, deliberate — and when he looked up, the green-gold of his eyes darkened.

"You sure you wanna stop at just one?" he asked, voice roughened with something almost tender. "Because, honestly, you wear ink way too well."

She swallowed hard, daring to glance down at the delicate tracing tucked along her ribcage, just under the swell of her breast. She drew in a breath, “Let’s see how much this one hurts first.” She let out a breath of a laugh.

Harry — still sitting beside her, still half-smiling like he knew every thought flying through her head — looked like pure, heart-wrecking trouble. Harry’s grin turned wicked. He peeled off the second glove and stood, flexing his fingers, muscles shifting under the ink that wrapped his own arms like stories written just for him.

"You never know," he said, voice a promise. “You might like a little pain.”  

Turning to his station, Harry grabbed a bunch of unopen supplies that were sterile, and he turned to prep the needle and machine, leaving Lily alone on the chair — heart racing, skin burning, body already craving the sting of his touch.

The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the space again, a steady sound that somehow made Lily’s heart race even harder. Harry sniffled, looking over at her before he cleared his throat.

“I think we’re going to have you lay on your back,” Harry went to maneuver the chair to lay flat; Lily moved with it, laying down on her back before Harry shook his head. “Hold your arm over your head.”

Harry leaned in close, resting his newly gloved hand flat against her side to steady her. The spot was so sensitive — right under the curve of her breast — that when the needle first kissed her skin, she gasped and instinctively arched slightly away.

"Hey, hey," Harry murmured, his free hand held at the underside of her breast, right at her ribs– which gave him a bit of unease at first. "Easy, sweetheart. You're alright. Deep breath for me, yeah?"

Lily swallowed hard, her face burning, but she nodded. She focused on breathing through her nose, trying to ignore the feel of his palm anchoring her, the heat of his body so close it was dizzying. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, knowing that each moment felt more and more difficult.

"You’re doing great," he said, voice low and soothing. "First tattoo’s always the hardest. Especially a spot like this. Let me know if you need to stop.”

She let out a shaky laugh, the sound barely there. "Y-Yeah, I guess I don’t do things halfway."

Harry’s smile widened — not mocking, but warm. Proud, even. He adjusted the machine in his hand and carefully started again, the fine line of the quote beginning to take shape along her ribs.

Harry’s mouth curved into a slow, appreciative grin. "Figures. You’ve got that stubborn look about you."

The machine whirred as he carefully pressed the needle into her skin again, beginning the delicate line of the quote. "What's the quote from?" Harry asked after a minute, his voice soft and warm, keeping her distracted as he worked.

"Anna Karenina," Lily said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It’s about... someone seeing you. Even when you think you're invisible."

Harry’s hand paused for the briefest second before he resumed, wiping gently at her side with a cloth.

"Sounds like it means something to you," he said, glancing up at her with a flicker of something real in his gaze.

She shrugged, the movement small against his steady hand. "I just... sometimes it feels like... if you're quiet, people don't really notice you. But when they do..."Her voice trailed off.

Harry's smile softened, a little less cocky and a little more sincere. "They’d be bloody stupid not to notice you," he said, almost too low for her to hear.

Before she could say anything, he leaned back in to finish the script, his concentration fierce, brow furrowed. His hand was careful, stabilizing her, and even through the sting of the tattoo, all Lily could focus on was the way his touch felt: steady, grounding, almost reverent.

"You’re holding up better than most," he said after a few minutes, wiping away a smear of ink. "Some people swear and curse the whole time."

She gave a breathless laugh. "Maybe I'm just too shy to complain." She knew very well that it hurt – it hurt more than anything she had done, but she laughed at the idea that maybe she just needed to stay quiet.

Harry chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "I don’t mind a little shy," he said, his thumb rubbing slow circles into her waist without thinking. "Means you don't bullshit."

She swallowed, heat rushing to her cheeks. As he finished the final strokes, he leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting against her skin.

"And it’s the quiet ones," he murmured like it was a secret, "who usually end up being the most unforgettable."

Lily's breath hitched, her entire body tense — not from the tattoo, but from him.

"I know you marched in here scared outta your mind," he said, carefully wiping away excess ink with a cloth. "And you still picked one of the hardest spots to get tattooed. You sat through it like a champ."

Lily didn’t know what to say to that, but the smile pulling at her mouth was uncontrollable.

Harry kept working, his touches careful, respectful — but God, she could feel him everywhere. His hand steady against her waist. The occasional brush of his knuckles against her ribs when he adjusted the angle. The warm breath from his mouth when he leaned closer to focus. It was overwhelming in the best, most terrifying way.

"You from around here?" he asked, glancing up again as he shifted slightly, bending lower to reach the final curve of the quote.

"Yeah," she said, her voice a little stronger now. "Grew up about fifteen minutes away. You?"

"Born here," Harry said, grinning as he dabbed gently at her side. "Escaped for a bit. Came back when I realized not everywhere has diners open 'til 3 a.m."

Lily laughed softly at his remark. It surprised them both— the way it slipped out of her so easily, warm and bright. Harry looked at her like he wanted to bottle the sound; she hadn’t showed as much emotion than from that little, stupid remark.

"You're loosening up," he said teasingly, switching out a cartridge on the machine to do the finer details. "Almost like you’re not terrified of me anymore."

"I was never terrified of you," she said quickly, eyes wide.

Harry just smirked. He leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially as he waited for the color to rise on her cheeks the color of fire. Somehow, he already knew the buttons he needed to press.

"Then why were you blushing so hard you looked ready to faint when I walked over?"

Lily opened her mouth — and then shut it, mortified. She knew that her cheeks could not have been redder than they were in this moment.

Harry's laughter — warm, deep, good — filled the studio space that they were sitting in.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, his knuckles brushing her side again in a way that felt far too deliberate to be accidental. "You’re not the first to get a little shy. You just wear it way cuter than most."

Her heart fluttered so violently she was sure he could feel it vibrating under her skin.

"You're... very confident," she muttered, staring at the ceiling like it might save her.

Harry tilted his head slightly, the machine buzzing softly again as he started on the delicate flourishes of the script, intricate details were needed as he stared deeper onto the inked skin.

"Suppose I have to be," he said, easy with a shrug to his shoulders. "People are trusting me to carve something into them forever. Can’t really be shaky about that." He pulled back for a second, wiping gently again, then leaned closer to blow softly on the ink to dry it.

The puff of air against her raw, sensitized skin made her shudder. Harry grinned like he noticed, like he was tucking it away somewhere private.

"Almost done," he said softly. "You’ve been a dream to work on, Lily."

The way he said her name with a slow, deliberate tone made her stomach flip. When he finally clicked the machine off and peeled his gloves away, the quiet that fell was almost deafening. It hadn’t been too long then, but Lily had missed the feeling already.

He sat back on his chair, running his hand through his messy hair, looking her over like he was committing the sight to memory.

"Alright," he said, voice a little rough, "moment of truth. Want a mirror?"

She nodded, and he passed it over carefully, brushing her fingers with his own in the exchange.

Lily angled it, looking down to be able to see where the writing sat on her skin. It was raw, her skin, red around the darkened ink that was now visible and permanent.

The quote curved perfectly under her breast, right on the ribcage, elegant and understated — exactly like she had imagined it in her head a hundred times. She knew that this would help her, this would connect her with her peers knowing she had gone through this experience.

"It's..." She swallowed hard. "It's really beautiful. Thank you."

Harry's smile softened, all the cocky teasing bleeding out of him until he looked almost bashful at her complimented admission.

"Hey," he said, reaching out instinctively to squeeze her hand that had been holding the mirror in place, fingers brushing along softly as he let go. "Thank you for trusting me. Let me bandage it up for you, and we can send you on your way.”

Lily nodded at that, biting her lip as she kept looking at the mirror while he grabbed the bandages. Harry wiped the ink again, giving it a sheen as he gave her instructions for aftercare. He handed her a small paper bag that included a lotion, a soap wash, and instructions for first time care of a tattoo.

"You mind if I grab a quick photo?" Harry asked, twirling the tattoo machine cable loosely between his fingers as he started to clean up his space; he was trying to act nonchalant about getting the photos, knowing she could possibly say no – but hoping she would just say yes. "For my portfolio. Only if you’re cool with it. I know it’s a spicy spot."

Lily blinked at him, heart still pounding. His smile was easy, but there was a gleam behind it, something playful, like he already knew she wouldn’t say no.

"Okay," she breathed, before she could overthink it. “Yeah, sure.”

Harry grinned a gleaming smile that allowed his dimples on display. He grabbed his film camera from under his station – of course it was a film camera, Lily thought.

"Stand up over here for me," he said, nodding toward a spot near the exposed brick wall where the late afternoon light pooled golden through the windows. “Better lighting.”

Lily slid off the chair, legs slightly unsteady, the fresh sting of the tattoo a thrilling reminder that this was real.  Harry watched her cross the room, head tilted like he was studying a living piece of art. His gaze dragged over her with an intensity that made her toes curl inside her boots.

"Just... pull the shirt up a bit,” he said, his voice going rough at the edges. "Show it off."

Her fingers fumbled at the hem of her shirt, tugging it just enough to reveal the tattoo.

"There," he murmured, camera drawn up to his eye, voice a velvet scrape "Perfect. Hold still for me, pretty girl." he said, almost under his breath as he concentrated on getting the perfect shot.

The first snap of the camera echoed too loudly in the quiet shop. Lily's heart thudded against her ribs as Harry moved around her, finding angles, framing her tattoo, but it didn’t escape her that his eyes kept straying back to her face. Her mouth. Her flushed cheeks.

"One more," Harry said, voice low and rough now. “Chin up. Look at me."

Lily obeyed, realizing that her face would now be in the shot before she even thought about it, tilting her face toward him — and the look that passed between them nearly set the air itself on fire. For one breathless, infinite second, it didn’t matter that the camera was between them. It didn’t matter that she was shy, or new to this, or that her heart was beating out of control.

All that mattered was the way Harry was looking at her. It was almost like she was already his favorite work of art.

The camera clicked. Harry dropped it to his side without a second glance.

He stepped closer again, too close — the kind of close where all she could see was the glint in his hazel eyes and the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You killed it, Lily," he said softly, with the hint of humor coating his tone. “First tattoo... and you already look dangerous."

Her cheeks flamed, but this time, she didn’t look away.

"Guess I’ll have to find an excuse to see you again." He murmured, trying to keep it between them, even though Kaila was just at the desk behind the beaded curtain. “If you want to, I mean.”

Before Lily could even straighten up, a warm hand closed gently over hers.

She looked up — right into Harry’s eyes. Up close, they were even more devastating — a messy green-gold, framed by thick lashes, flecked with something reckless and soft all at once.

“Y-You want to see me again?” Lily asked, almost like the words coming from him weren’t real. They couldn’t have been; there was nothing intriguing enough about her that would allow a man like this to be interested in her. But the way that his eyes shone behind the glasses as he looked at her held a truth that she couldn’t deny.

"I’ve got about an hour before my next appointment," he continued, like he hadn't just tilted her whole world off its axis. "And I was thinking maybe instead of a payment, you could just... walk to get a coffee with me instead."

Breathless, Lily opened her mouth to speak, letting a breathless laugh escape her. “Oh, uh,” She shook her head, but watched Harry’s smile start to fade as if she was denying him, “Oh- I mean, yes. I would… I would like to do that. But you’re sure you don’t – I mean, I can pay you for your work.”

Harry smiled wider, clearly delighted by the reaction he was pulling from her.

"No, really," he added, even though they both knew there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at her right now. Harry reached over to the chair, handing her the sweater. "I wasn’t expecting this today, so I’ve kind of already been paid. In a way.”

Kaila snorted quietly behind her crossword, drawing Harry’s attention. This time his cheeks reddened at the reaction.

Lily hesitated for half a heartbeat, then found herself smiling, small but real. Maybe a little reckless as she pressed her tongue into her cheek.

"Okay," she said. "Coffee sounds... good. I like coffee."

Harry’s grin turned into something full of promise as he nodded, finding his cheeks hurting from the smile emitting from him.

"Yeah?" he said, stepping back just enough to snag his jacket from the hook by the door. "Good. I know a place.”

Lily pulled the sweater over her head, pulling it back over her frame as she looked up at him. “Do you mind if I freshen up really quick?”

Harry perked up, “Oh, sure. The restrooms over there.” He pointed towards the back, “I’ll meet you at the front.”

Lily moved her way towards the restroom, taking her small purse as Harry grabbed his jacket and sunglasses before going towards the counter where Kaila was sitting with her crosswords in front of her. Harry blew out a breath and raked a hand through his messy hair. The slow smirk on her face was overtaking her smile, Harry caught it immediately.

"You good, Casanova?" Kaila asked without looking up, flipping her pencil between her fingers. “I’m surprised you were able to keep your hand steady enough to get good ink out of it with how jacked up she made you.”

Harry leaned his elbows onto the counter, head dropping between his arms with a low, muffled groan. "I’m gonna marry her.”

Kaila snorted so hard she almost dropped her pencil. "You talked her into coffee, not a courthouse wedding."

He peeked up at her through his messy hair, a cocky but boyish grin tugging at his mouth. "Coffee first. Courthouse second. I’m a gentleman, of course. I do nothing without second thoughts."

Kaila rolled her eyes, laughing under her breath. "Well, just don’t scare her off with your strong puppy energy. She’s sweet. You don’t get a lot of that. You don’t usually throw yourself at girls, it’s a lot of the opposite, so I can tell she’s going to challenge you."

Harry straightened up a little, something serious flickering across his face for half a second. "I know," he said quietly, “That’s hot.”

Kaila softened, just a little, watching him. Then she shook her head and went back to her crossword, voice light again. "Go easy, Fabio. Try not to spill coffee on yourself this time."

Harry flipped her off good-naturedly just as the bathroom door opened, and he immediately turned around, smoothing his jacket down like he'd been standing there casually the whole time. Kaila bit her lip to stifle another laugh.

When Lily came back into view, cheeks still a little pink and hair a little mussed from the day but pulled back into a clip now, Harry couldn’t stop the wide, helpless grin that broke across his face.

“I’ll be back, Kai.” Harry walked in front of Lily, he held the door open for her, a little old-fashioned but somehow so natural it made Lily’s heart ache as she moved out in front of him.

The bell above the shop door jingled as they stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The sidewalk was still warm, the city humming around them. For a few seconds, they just walked, side by side, the silence between them not awkward, but tentative — fragile, like the first brushstroke of something beautiful about to begin.

Harry glanced sideways at her, his voice a little lighter now, teasing again. "So, Lily," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked. "Tell me something about you. Something I wouldn’t guess."

Lily looked down at the ground, shy, but the corner of her mouth twitched up. After a beat, she said softly, "I once won a spelling bee because I memorized an entire Russian novel in case they picked a word from it."

Harry laughed, a rich, warm sound that made her grab onto her sweater sleeves a bit tightly. "Let me guess," he said, grinning as he walked sideways to face her. "Was it Anna Karenina?"

She laughed too then — a real, bright thing that made her feel lighter than she had in months.

"Maybe," she said, pretending to be coy. "Maybe not."

He bumped his shoulder gently against hers, careful but playful. "Oof, you’re going to keep me guessing,” He bit his lip, “I like it.”

They rounded the corner together, the coffee shop coming into view — a cozy little place with fairy lights strung up in the windows.

And for the first time in a long time, Lily felt like maybe she wasn't invisible after all.

Maybe she was finally being seen.

[bellaxgiornata]

Nothing Remains the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.1k [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; DDBA SPOILERS, angst (not a happy ending), emotional hurt, pining, mentions of sexual content

Summary: In an attempt to bridge the distance between Karen and you, Matt invites you both to his apartment for dinner while the pair of you are visiting New York for work. But after that night at Josie's over a year ago and your almost-relationship with Matt had long since ended, clearly nothing is the same anymore–especially Matt.

a/n: I've had this idea stuck in my head for over a week now because I've been craving angst so...here you go. This contains DDBA spoilers and has no happy ending (unless I make a second part at some point). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @captainorbust-blog @hollandorks @lights-on-the-ridge @spider-jedi17 @raindropsandteaandtears @thekidsare-kinda-alright

Leaning against the counter beside Karen, a glass of wine in your hands, you watched Matt and Heather as they continued talking on the other side of the island in Matt’s kitchen. Karen stood beside you with her arms crossed over her chest, absently swirling the red wine in her glass. The smile on her face was polite but strained as she listened to the story the couple was currently regaling you both with–how Matt had asked Heather to move in. But even you could see that Karen was thinking the exact same thing you’d been from the moment you both stepped into this apartment.

Nothing felt right here. 

Your eyes lingered on the way Matt stirred the sauce in the pan on the island stovetop, his red glasses perched on his nose and still obscuring his full expression from view. You hadn’t seen his eyes even once since Karen and you had arrived almost an hour ago, which only made the distance between you three feel like a gaping hole only growing more impossible to cross. Jaw twitching as you tapped a finger against the glass in your hands, you barely registered the conversation occurring around you. 

You were not remotely interested in hearing about Matt and the girlfriend he’d surprised you and Karen with the moment you’d stepped through the threshold into his apartment for dinner tonight–not when you had once been the woman in his life telling stories like this. It used to be you and Matt telling Karen and Foggy about the date you'd gone on, or how Matt had slipped through your window late as Daredevil and crashed at your place as you both explained why you had showed up late to the office together that morning. And then Foggy would always tease you both about your flirting in the workplace and–

No. Now wasn't the time for that.

But it was impossible to focus on what Heather was saying as your own memories kept flashing through your mind. Memories of drunkenly making your way into Matt’s previous apartment, clutching a bag of Thai food in your hand from the restaurant around the corner you both loved. Or the nights he'd asked you to stay over because he liked having you in his apartment when he made his way through the roof access door, exhausted and maybe a little banged up in his suit. All those times you’d both been over-eager on his couch, too in the moment to make it to his bedroom before undressing each other. Those times when you’d both been washed in the deep hues of different colors from the billboard across the street, bathing your bodies in various shades as you made love on his couch.

Glancing through the kitchen towards his living room on the left, you noticed his couch was different. Not the same one you remembered. It wasn't the leather couch you both had cuddled on countless nights before, or the one you'd cleaned his blood from off the cushions on multiple different occasions. Your hand tightened around the wine glass as you stared past Karen into his living room, blankly taking in his new apartment.

It felt cold here. Fake. Like a prop and not some place where Matt actually lived–where he came home after a day of work to unwind and where he laid down to sleep at night. This wasn’t Hell’s Kitchen. His fridge was fully stocked with food instead of just beer, half a bottle of orange juice, and the rare carton of eggs. There was no obscene billboard across the street, and those stairs leading from the roof that you’d seen him stumble down too many times to count in his red suit were missing. The furniture here was different–nicer. Everything from his kitchenware to the sweater he had on looked expensive. And where had that red plaid blanket gone that you’d both wrapped yourselves in all those times you’d drank cheap beer on his roof?

But as your eyes returned to Matt, Heather now having switched topics to some upcoming book about vigilantes that she was working on–which made it apparent that she had no clue she was living with one–you noticed the worst part about all of this. Matt felt different. That smile on his face seemed strained, and you had a feeling if he removed those glasses, you'd easily see it didn't quite reach his eyes. His laugh sounded off whenever Heather told a joke. The way he moved around the kitchen cooking dinner with that slightly diluted charming smile on his lips just felt wrong. 

This didn’t feel like Matt. You didn’t know who the hell was standing on the opposite side of the island counter from you with some other woman’s hand lingering on his shoulder, but he wasn’t your Matthew. It felt like you were somehow standing in the middle of a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Because this couldn’t possibly be where things had gone now between all of you.

As your pulse quickened, that heartache you thought you’d buried for the past year–the one you thought you’d come to terms with while you’d been gone from New York–suddenly felt as if it had torn your chest wide open again. Almost instantaneously, Matt’s head shifted towards you from across the island counter. Raising the red wine towards your mouth, you swallowed the bitter alcohol down as his covered gaze landed on you. 

You knew he’d caught that. 

Pressing your lips together and forcing a smile onto your face, you turned your attention away from Matt and back to Heather. She smiled at you as she came to a natural break in her explanation of what she was working on and you nodded your head, trying to take an interest in what she was discussing. You knew you’d been far too quiet since having arrived here and it was probably bordering on rude, but your mouth felt so damn dry.

“That–that sounds like an interesting premise,” you forced out. 

Heather smiled before she draped herself around Matt as he continued cooking, your stomach twisting at the sight. How had Matt thought that this would be a good idea? A good way to catch up and try to mend things between Karen and you? How had he not realized how much this would hurt you? Even if you hadn’t gotten Matt to the point of officially labeling you as his girlfriend back then, that’s what you’d been. And now you were watching him live that out with someone else right in front of you. It made you want to be sick.

“I told Matt here that he should get me an interview with one of his vigilante acquaintances,” Heather continued, affectionately patting his shoulder as she looked up at him. “Frank Castle or Daredevil. Maybe both.”

Beside you, Karen nearly choked on the wine she’d been drinking. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you refrained from blurting any of the comments that were sitting on the tip of your tongue as Matt chuckled good-naturedly. That feeling of everything being off only intensified.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could absolutely manage that,” Karen said, her blue eyes piercing into Matt while she spoke. “I could only imagine those two sitting down with a therapist. Bet that’d be interesting, wouldn’t it, Matt?”

Matt glanced up from his cooking, a tight smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure it would be.” A muscle jumped in his cheek before he focused on Heather beside him, that slightly off smile on his face again. “But I already told you that I’m not so sure if that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

The moment the simple term of endearment was out of his mouth, you froze in place as if the air had just been sucked straight from your lungs. Sweetheart. He was calling her sweetheart. After all of those times he’d called you that–over the phone when he was making plans with you, in his deep sultry tone when he’d flirt with you in the office, panted into your ear when he was buried inside of you–now he was calling someone else that?

You felt lightheaded, your heart beating unsteadily in your chest. Reaching a hand out behind yourself, your fingers gripped onto the cold stone of Matt’s kitchen counter behind you as your knees felt like they were beginning to buckle. Beside you, Karen turned her head at the movement, catching the look on your face. Her blonde brows drew together in worry, a silent question forming on her features clearly asking if you were alright. But it was one that you weren’t sure how to answer. Because no, you weren’t alright. Nothing felt right anymore.

Across the kitchen, you heard Heather call out your name as you set your wine glass down on the counter beside you. One hand reaching up, you grabbed the collar of your blouse, trying to pull it away from your neck. It felt stifling in here all of the sudden.

“Are you alright?” Heather asked, her eyes scanning you closely. 

“Is something wrong?” Matt asked. 

He stopped stirring the sauce in the pan in front of him as he’d spoken with genuine concern in his tone. His attention fixed on you instead of the dinner he’d been preparing, no doubt reading your body closely and listening to all of the things even you couldn’t catch. You wondered what it told him. Wondered if he knew how much he was tormenting you right now or if he even cared because he just wanted you and Karen back in his life, as if things could somehow snap back to how they were between the three of you while one part of the group was glaringly and permanently missing. 

“I uh,” you began, trying to find the words as all three sets of eyes landed on you. “I just–just need some air. The uh–” you broke off, feeling your body growing hotter as Karen gave you a knowing look. “I just think that flight in from California took it out of me.”

A nervous laugh slipped out of you, the urge to bolt from this apartment–from this whole damn city–slamming right into you. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand here and smile and pretend like you were fine with everything. Because you weren’t. And you weren’t even sure if Heather knew that you were basically Matt’s ex and not just one of his ex-associates from Nelson, Murdock, and Page. 

“I’m just going to step out,” you said, pushing off of the kitchen counter.

Not even caring about how rude you might’ve appeared, you slipped past Karen and the knowing look on her face before making your way through the kitchen and towards Matt’s front door. Without a backwards glance or another word, you pulled the door to his apartment open and darted outside of it, hurrying straight for the elevator at the end of the hallway. 

As you jammed your finger into the elevator call button, waiting for the doors to open, you hated knowing that he was aware of your entire exit from his place. You couldn’t just cry in peace in the elevator as you made your escape, because if Matt was still Matt, you knew his senses were focused on you as you stepped into the elevator. Knew that he could hear you trying to fight back the quiet sobs threatening to overtake you and the erratic beating of your heart in your chest.

But none of that stopped you from letting the tears spill down your face the second the elevator doors shut in front of you. Slumping against the wall of the elevator as it began to descend towards the lobby, you wiped away the tears with the back of your hand as they began to fall. It had been a horrible idea to accept Matt’s offer for dinner at his place tonight with Karen while the pair of you were briefly back in New York. You had hoped that this weird, painful divide between the three of you could gradually be mended after the loss of Foggy, but now you weren’t sure how possible that could ever be. 

You couldn’t see him with another woman. It didn’t matter how smart, successful, beautiful, and kind she seemed. It didn’t feel right seeing her wrapping her arms around his waist or rubbing his shoulder affectionately. Kissing his cheek and sharing little jokes. Hearing him call her sweetheart. Knowing they were living together.

That was supposed to have been you. It had been you.

Until that night at Josie’s a little over a year ago now. The night that had changed everything. The night where your’s, and Matt’s, and Karen’s worlds had fallen completely apart. The night you three lost Foggy. When he’d taken that last gasping breath in front of you and Karen right outside of the bar the four of you had frequented almost weekly. That night when a part of Matt had died with him. But while you and Karen had tried struggling together to move on and deal with your grief over the tragic loss of one of your best friends, Matt had only shut you and her out completely.

But you were still in love with Matt. That much was painfully obvious after tonight. He might have walked away and moved on from you, even if it all seemed so damn fake and forced, but you’d apparently been holding onto something that wasn’t ever going to happen again and you were just now realizing it.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, the noise cutting through your thoughts. Sniffling softly, you pushed yourself off of the wall and stepped out of it, heading into the well lit and extravagantly decorated lobby which was a vast difference from Matt’s previous apartment building. Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded with people coming and going, meaning no one really spared you a passing glance as you wiped at your tear-stained cheeks. 

You had no intention of going back up to Matt’s apartment. You would just come up with some lie for Karen to tell them about you not feeling well and instead spend the rest of your evening crying alone in your hotel room until Karen came back. But just as you’d felt for your phone in your pocket so you could send her a text, you heard your name being called across the lobby. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you paused and turned your head towards where the voice had come from.

Matt was making his way out of the stairwell, his cane sweeping across the floor as he hurried towards you. You were vaguely aware of how little he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly where you were standing despite that he was in public, his feet leading him straight towards you. His dark brows were pinched together, furrowing deeply beneath his glasses as he approached.

“Matt, you don’t–”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping just in front of you. “Why’re you leaving? You’ve only been here for an hour. And don’t tell me you just needed air or that you’re not feeling well because we both know that’s not true.”

Unable to stop the humorless laugh that bubbled up out of you, a look of disbelief crossed your face at the question. Even with the glasses covering his eyes, his face noticeably twisted up as if the sound had somehow physically hurt him. 

“Why didn’t you tell us your girlfriend would be joining us for dinner when you invited us?” you questioned back. “That she was living with you? Or that you even had a girlfriend, for that matter.”

“I–I wasn’t…” he trailed off, at least having the sense to sound guilty. He paused, gripping his cane tight between his hands as he pursed his lips in frustration. “Look, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the opportunity to try to fix things with Karen and you, so when I found out you both were coming out here for work, I took my chance to invite you both for dinner. I didn’t think it would be a problem that I was seeing someone, but initially Heather had an appointment scheduled for the evening which had been canceled last minute.”

Pulling a face, you shook your head back at Matt. “So you were going to what? Pretend there was no live-in girlfriend when we came over?” 

“No,” he answered firmly. “No, I wouldn’t have kept her a secret. That’s not what I meant, I just meant that I had been intending for tonight to just be the three of us, alright? Sweetheart, I didn’t–”

“Don’t.”

The word came out both sharp and pained as it passed your lips. You could feel something squeezing your heart in your chest as you remembered how he’d just called someone else that right in front of you without a second thought. The tears were burning in your eyes again as you held the gaze of those red lenses which he still hadn’t removed. His lips twitched at the corners in something like a wince at the sound of your voice, his throat visibly bobbing above the neckline of his sweater as he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Eyes snapping shut, you couldn’t even look at him. A few more tears slipped out, sliding their way gently down your cheeks as you stood there. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? It’s not like it changed anything.

“You left,” he continued quietly. “You left New York.”

Eyes slowly opening, you looked back at Matt through the tears blurring your vision. “You left first,” you breathed out. “That night. After that night. You shut me out, you shut Karen out. You locked yourself away in your apartment. Didn’t answer our calls or our texts. Never opened your door to us. You came to work at the office barely there after you told us you wanted to close the firm.”

Pausing to try to swallow down the lump forming in the back of your throat, one of your hands reached up and wiped at the tears still steadily falling. Matt stood there in front of you with trembling lips, making you wonder if he was tearing up behind those red lenses himself.

“You left first, Matt,” you repeated. “I tried to get through to you for months, but you wouldn’t let me in. And then the firm closed and Karen was leaving to California. I needed a job and I needed the only friend I felt I had left, so I followed her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. Just–just stay for dinner. Please.”

“Matt, you know I can’t do that,” you told him, voice pained. “I can’t go back up there and watch you two together. It hurts. Not just to see you with someone else, but seeing you acting like someone else.”

Matt went tense at the accusation, shaking his head once more at you as his jaw clenched tight. You knew he was in denial about what he was doing, how he was handling Foggy’s passing. You knew him far too well to let him lie to you.

“I’m not acting like someone else,” he disagreed. “I’m trying to live my life as Matt Murdock.”

Gesturing a hand sharply at Matt in front of you, you couldn’t fight back the truth as it fell past your lips. “This isn’t you, Matthew. This is you hiding away from your grief instead of facing it. You're burying it deep down and pretending it's not there but it is.”

A bitter scoff left Matt as he readjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, those red lenses of his flashing beneath the lights of the lobby. You could see his tongue running over his teeth in frustration behind his closed lips before he continued.

“I’ve been dealing with it,” he countered. “Every damn day.”

“You left Hell’s Kitchen, Matt,” you pointed out. “You’re partnered at some fancy law firm that doesn’t feel like you. Living in a fancy apartment that doesn’t feel like you with a girlfriend who clearly doesn’t really know you. And–” you continued, the words just spilling out of you like the tears still running down your cheeks, “–I’m guessing you still haven’t put the suit back on since that night.”

“You know I can't.”

His words came out dark and quiet, his lips thinning into a straight line. You could see the muscle working in his cheek as he stood there, clearly trying to fight down his own emotions like he'd been doing for more than a year. Part of you felt bad for pushing the subject, but you knew what was going to happen if Matt kept lying to himself. 

“You didn't kill either of them,” you whispered, lowering your voice so your conversation couldn't be overheard. “I know you don't believe me, but you didn't, Matt. What happened that night–”

“Can't happen again,” he stated firmly. 

Biting your lip, your hands curled into fists at your sides. It was almost impossible to get through to Matt when he'd made up his mind. But you'd seen the news reports since you'd been back in the city. You'd heard about the uptick in crime. About Fisk becoming mayor and wanting to come down hard on vigilantes. You'd heard people wondering about what happened to the Devil. But what hurt was knowing that even if Matt refused to put on his suit and help, he was still hearing the pain and suffering of everyone around him. He couldn't just ignore his senses, and you knew that had to be slowly killing him inside.

“You can't fight that side of yourself forever, Matt,” you told him softly. “You can't run from who you are.”

“That's not who I am,” he snapped, shaking his head. “It's not. Not anymore.”

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips at the blatant lie. You didn't need his heightened hearing to know that it was. Your hand reached out in the space between you both, your fingertips lightly brushing over his soft sweater, just above his heart. You saw him stiffen under your touch.

“The Devil is as a part of you as Matt Murdock is,” you murmured. “And he's a hero to more people than you realize. You can't keep him locked away, and you can't keep lying to yourself. It's only hurting you more.”

Your eyes dropped down to where you were touching him, a tense silence following your words. Slowly, your hand fell away from his chest and back to your side, but you noticed the tension and fight had eased out of him almost immediately, as if your touch had briefly soothed something inside of him.

“Please just come back up for dinner,” he begged again, emotion thick in his words. “Please don't go.”

His words were like a knife to the heart, the pleading note of them only adding to the pain. But you knew you couldn't follow him back up there. You couldn't put a smile on your face and pretend like your heart wasn't breaking all over again at the sight of him with another woman. A woman who didn't truly know him yet had someone gotten close enough to move in. 

“I can't, Matty,” you said, noticing how he flinched at the name. Taking a step back, you fought to keep yourself together, not wanting to break down here in the lobby of his apartment building. “I can't do that.”

“Please,” he begged.

A single tear slipped out from beneath his glasses, the sight of it causing you to take another abrupt step back. This hurt so damn much, but you knew going back up with him would only hurt even more.

“Take care of yourself, Matthew,” you said softly. 

Biting down on your cheek, you turned and forced yourself to walk away from him. Throwing a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs, you headed towards the building's exit and attempted to keep your composure. Just until you could get back to the privacy of your hotel room. But it was so hard to hold yourself together when that same painful thought kept repeating in your mind with every step that continued to grow the distance between the two of you.

He wasn't your Matty anymore.

[sixxels]

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

wc: 7.8k

disclaimer !! slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! eventual smut (most likely). reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !!

the problem was that satoru gojo hadn’t stopped thinking about you since that stupid coffee date.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. he’d done this kind of thing before—charming girls, making them laugh, maybe spending the night if he was bored enough. but this? this wasn’t just flirting. it wasn’t a mission or a chase.

you were different.

and that terrified the hell out of him.

he sat on the balcony of the frat house the next night, legs kicked up on the railing, the bass from the party downstairs shaking the floorboards beneath his feet. a half-drunk beer dangled from his hand, and his phone sat untouched beside him—though he’d checked it three times in the past five minutes, half-hoping you’d text.

you hadn’t.

you weren’t the type to double text.

and for once, he kind of wished you were.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” suguru’s voice cut through the thick night air, lazy and smug.

gojo didn’t even glance over. “jesus, what are you? psychic?”

“nah,” suguru stepped outside, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, long black hair tied back messily. his black gauges caught the light as he leaned against the railing. “just watching you stare at your phone like a sad puppy.”

gojo sighed. “i’m not m—”

“moody?” suguru cut in. “bro, you’ve been pouting since you got back from that coffee date.”

gojo stayed quiet.

“so?” suguru asked, glancing sideways. “did you make any progress?”

gojo took a swig of his beer. “we talked. she laughed at my jokes, she's really, and i mean really cute. it was… nice.”

“that’s it?” suguru blinked. “you’ve got, like, four weeks left. you gonna kiss her or just make googly eyes until june?”

“it’s may 6th,” gojo muttered.

“and you’re behind schedule.”

gojo gave him a look. “you really think this is about the bet anymore?”

suguru raised an eyebrow, pausing. “…so you caught feelings?”

gojo scoffed, but the way he stared out into the night said more than his words did.

“fuck,” he murmured. “i think? man fuck this i've never done this kind of shit before!”

suguru let out a low whistle, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “you? satoru gojo? falling for some shy girl you haven’t even made out with yet? damn. the apocalypse really is coming.”

“shut up.”

“no, seriously,” suguru said. “you’re acting like you’ve never talked to a girl before. this is a whole new level of whipped.”

gojo set his beer down and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

“she’s just… not like the others. she’s quiet, but when she talks, it’s like she actually means what she says. and she looked at me like she was really listening, like she cared. and she didn’t try to show off or flirt or get something from me. she was just… her.”

“adorable little coffee girl,” suguru teased, tilting his head. “you’re really falling hard.”

“yeah,” gojo admitted. “i think i am.”

suguru let the silence hang for a moment before pushing off the railing.

“well, that’s sweet and all,” he said casually, “but the bet still stands.”

gojo blinked. “what?”

“come on,” suguru grinned. “you said you could bang her by the end of may. that’s $2000 on the line. i’m not just gonna let you back out because you caught a case of the butterflies.”

gojo frowned. “you’re seriously holding me to that?”

“you’re the one who upped the stakes,” suguru reminded him. “you wanted to prove you could do it. don’t tell me you’re chickening out now.”

“it’s not about chickening out,” gojo said. “it just… it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

suguru shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “then figure it out. either go all in or call it. but don’t string her along if you’re not sure what you want.”

gojo looked down at the ground below, jaw clenched.

“she’s not the kind of girl you mess with,” he said quietly. “she deserves better than that.”

suguru gave him a long look. “then maybe stop being the kind of guy who does.”

~

that night, gojo lay sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, your text thread glowing softly in the dark.

n/n 💗 : thank you for the coffee today :)

n/n 💗: i had fun !!

he stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding heavier than it should have.

he started typing.

gojo: me too ;)

gojo: wanna hang again soon? no coffee this time, i’ll try to impress you with my tragic lack of cooking skills 🤝

send.

he stared at the screen feeling slightly anxious. a reply came a minute later.

n/n 💗 : for sure :)

he smiled. god, you were even cute over text.

gojo : awesomeeee i can't wait! i'll pick you up outside the girl dormitories after your classes tomorrow!

he set the phone on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

he hadn’t figured it out yet, what to do about the bet, how to tell you, how to stop feeling like the world’s most shittiest person for even agreeing to it in the first place.

but one thing was clear.

this wasn’t about the money anymore.

and if he wasn’t careful, you were going to be the one thing in his life he couldn’t charm, lie, or joke his way out of.

~

the sun was beginning to set when gojo pulled up to the dorms, low rays turning the pavement gold. he wore a gray hoodie over his alpha phi tee, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. he’d parked a little early, pretending it was just to get a good spot, but really—it was nerves. again.

and then you appeared.

you walked out of the dorm building like you’d fallen out of a dream: soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder, a pleated plaid skirt swishing gently as you moved, lace-trimmed socks just peeking out over black mary janes. you clutched your phone and blinked up when you spotted him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

god, you were pretty. almost too pretty.

you took in the sight of his very black, very expensive looking car, walking up to him shyly.

he leaned over and popped open the door. “hop in, angel.”

you slid in, offering a shy smile. “hello.”

“hey yourself,” he grinned, starting the engine.

you looked around his car, clearing your throat slightly. "you've got a really nice car, satoru."

he smirked, one of his favourite things in life was his car, so having you of all people complimenting it made him feel giddy.

"it's a Mclaren 570S spider, my baby."

you smiled at his obvious love for his car and looked at him through fluttered eyes. "it's very cool, gojo."

if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging insanely right now.

the drive to his frat was quick, and your eyes widened at how grand the front enterance looked.

"hope you like ramen, because that's all we got right now sweets."

his frat house wasn’t clean, but it had character. guys yelling over fifa downstairs, a wall of polaroids lining the staircase, beer cans stacked like a sad sculpture on the kitchen counter. you hesitated at the door of his room until he gestured for you to come in, flipping the light switch and kicking a basketball out of the way.

“welcome to my humble kingdom.”

you stepped inside, eyes wide as you took in the mess of it all—expensive sneakers piled haphazardly in the corner, basketball trophies scattered across his dresser, and posters of old anime's and old rock bands on the wall. somehow, it smelled faintly of expensive cologne and dryer sheets.

he scratched the back of his neck. “it’s, uh… not exactly pinterest material.”

“it’s very you,” you said with a giggle.

he blinked. “is that a good thing or?”

you turned to him, giving him a small, almost shy smile. “yeah. it's cool."

he looked at you then—really looked—and that tiny, pink, fluttering thing in his chest came back full force.

you wandered over to his desk while he started fiddling with the stovetop burner on the little kitchenette shoved into the corner of his room.

“so,” he said, voice casual. “i was thinking—gourmet instant ramen. maybe some fancy egg on top if we’re feeling wild.”

~

“so…” you said after a few minutes, propped on the edge of his bed while he stirred noodles, “what’s it like being frat president?”

he snorted. “exhausting, kinda. it’s basically babysitting drunk toddlers with big egos.”

you laughed and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of his bed. "i thought it was just about throwing parties.”

“eh, that too.” he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. “but i have to keep the house from falling apart, break up fights, stop choso from lighting the grill with a flamethrower again…”

you blinked. “again?”

he smiled sheepishly. “yeah, we lost a picnic table last semester.” you giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

then your smile faded just slightly.

“you okay?” satoru asked quietly, voice low as he stirred the ramen.

you nodded, but there was a pause that lingered too long, your eyes fixed on your lap. your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

“just… i used to date someone, who loved parties.” you murmured. “he was in beta tau.”

gojo’s movements stilled. beta tau was basically alpha phis rival frat. the quiet slosh of water and noodles was the only sound in the small kitchen now.

you didn’t look up when you said his name. “sukuna.”

a cold weight dropped into his stomach. his hand tightened around the ladle, knuckles going pale.

of course it was sukuna.

that smug, inked-up bastard with a mouth full of sharp teeth and a cruel grin to match. he strutted around campus like he owned it, dripping in designer clothes and superiority. gojo had always hated the way girls fell into his lap like it was gravity—like his name alone was enough to make people forget how rotten he was underneath. he wasn’t charming. he was dangerous, and not in the fun way.

and you… sweet perfect you... you were the last person he wanted to imagine tangled up in sukunas antics.

“he wasn’t very kind to me,” you continued, voice barely more than a whisper. “he’d always say the right things in public, always knew how to look like the perfect boyfriend. but when it was just us… he made me feel small. like a doll on a shelf.”

satoru slowly turned around to face you.

you still wouldn’t look at him, like you were ashamed, and for some reason, that hurt more than anything.

“did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice sharp with something unfamiliar—something cold and furious.

your eyes lifted, wide and startled.

“no. not-not like that. he never laid a hand on me. he just…” you exhaled shakily. “he liked having a girlfriend that looked good standing next to him. didn’t care what i wanted. what i liked. he wanted a prize. not a girlfriend.”

the silence that followed was heavy. satoru felt it in his teeth, in the pounding of his heart.

you looked up through your lashes, nervous.

gojo didn’t speak for a moment.

he couldn’t.

his thoughts were racing, hot and restless. the image of sukuna’s smug face flashed behind his eyes—tattoos curling around his temples like they meant something, all swagger and sharp edges. he remembered seeing him once, dragging some girl by the wrist through a party like she was furniture. wait... was that you?

his chest ached.

“he’s a fucking cunt,” gojo finally muttered, voice low and bitter. “a spoiled, narcissistic freak who doesn’t know how to care about anything that doesn’t worship the ground he walks on.”

you blinked at him. your expression was unreadable, unsure.

he rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. “i just, i hate that he made you feel that way. like you weren’t… enough. you’re more than enough.”

a quiet beat passed.

your eyes were widened as you muttered out a quiet, “thank you."

he turned back to the stove, jaw clenched tight. his grip on the ladle loosened as he focused on the task again, but something simmered under his skin hotter than the water in the pot.

when the ramen was finally done, he ladled it gently into two mismatched bowls. he didn’t speak, didn’t push, didn’t dare reach for you, like touching you would break you.

he set yours down in front of you carefully.

and when you reached out, just the slightest brush of your fingers over his wrist, it was like the spark of something that had always been there, just waiting.

he swallowed.

he thought he’d known what this was. a bet. a game. something stupid between frat boys with too much ego.

but now, sitting across from you with your lips curled softly around the rim of a spoon and the warmth of your touch still ghosting over his skin, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

and he wasn’t sure he could survive the fallout when this all came crashing down.

you ended up staying for ramen, then a movie on his laptop, curled under one of his big blankets with your knees tucked under you. he let you pick the film, a cozy romcom he secretly kind of liked. and halfway through, your shoulder brushed his.

you didn’t pull away.

his heart beat out of rhythm.

he should’ve told you then, he knew he was too far gone to not tell you how this all started.

he could’ve said it was stupid—just a bet, just a frat-boy dare. that it was about the money until it wasn’t. that it wasn’t fair to you, and he knew that, and he was sorry.

but you were looking at him like he wasn’t the president of a frat house. like he was someone safe.

and so instead, he said nothing.

hours later, after walking you back and watching you disappear behind your dorm’s glass doors, gojo found himself back on the balcony. it was after midnight, the sky deep and dark above the rooftops, clouds moving slow like they had nowhere to be.

the door creaked behind him.

suguru.

he stepped out with two cans in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied low. “figured you’d be here.”

“figured you’d be asleep.”

suguru handed him a can. “couldn’t. my roommate’s snoring like a dying chainsaw.”

they sat in silence for a while. gojo sipped. the wind moved through the trees.

“so?” suguru asked finally. “you tap out yet?”

gojo’s head tipped back against the railing.

“no,” he muttered, replying reluctantly. “i’m still in.”

suguru’s eyebrows raised. “really? after all that poetic shit you were spewing the other night?”

“i know.”

“dude. she’s sweet. and i know you’re catching feelings.”

gojo’s voice was quiet. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“so why not just end it?” suguru asked, genuinely confused now. “i mean, yeah, i wanna win my $2k, but if she’s getting under your skin like this—”

“because if i quit the bet, it’s like admitting she was a target from the start.”

suguru was silent.

gojo exhaled, voice low. “and she doesn’t deserve that. she deserves to believe this started from something better than a fucking dare.”

“but it didn’t.”

“i know,” gojo snapped. “but it became something better.”

suguru took a slow sip of his beer.

“you’re in deep, man.”

“tell me something i don’t know.”

“okay,” suguru said lazily, “you’re also kind of a dumbass.”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “yeah.”

they sat a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the flags on the roof.

finally, suguru muttered, “just don’t hurt her.”

gojo looked out into the dark.

“that’s the one thing i’m trying not to do.”

the next morning came too quickly.

the sunlight was already pouring through the slats of gojo’s blinds when he finally gave up on pretending to sleep. the golden light did nothing to warm the chill lodged deep in his chest. he lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on the rise and fall of his chest, which felt too shallow, too sharp. like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe without aching.

you haunted his thoughts.

he saw you when he closed his eyes—sitting on the edge of his bed in that oversized hoodie, hands cradling the ramen bowl he’d made like it was something precious. your knees tucked close, your fingers trembling just slightly when you lifted your chopsticks. he’d noticed. of course he had. noticed everything. how you hesitated before speaking, how you smiled with your mouth but not always with your eyes. how the word “sukuna” tasted like poison on your tongue, and how your whole body had tensed when you said his name.

it made something ugly twist in gojo’s stomach.

sukuna.

he hated even thinking the name now, though once upon a time they’d shared the same parties, the same reckless orbit of greek life. sukuna was one of those guys you couldn’t ignore—loud, magnetic, built like a devil with charm sharp enough to cut. everyone had stories about him. girls, mostly. none of them good.

gojo remembered one story in particular—barely even a memory now, just a flash of a scene. a party. loud music, dim lights. sukuna dragging a girl by the wrist through the crowd like she was some piece of luggage he couldn’t be bothered to carry. she’d looked shaken. small. he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face.

but now he couldn’t stop wondering—what if that girl had been you?

gojo sat up abruptly in bed, chest tight, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs. he raked a hand through his silver-white hair, breathing hard.

the worst part wasn’t that he hadn’t done anything that night. it was that he hadn’t noticed. not really. not in a way that mattered. back then, things like that just blurred into the background noise of frat parties. girls crying in bathrooms. couples fighting in corners. someone stumbling out with mascara running down her cheeks.

god. how many red flags had he ignored?

a knock sounded at his door.

he ignored it.

a beat passed, and then the door creaked open anyway. suguru never waited for permission, especially not when gojo was spiraling.

“jesus,” suguru muttered as he stepped in, two to-go cups of shitty black coffee in hand. “you look like a demon crawled into your mouth and died.”

gojo didn’t even blink. “you’re one to talk. you’ve worn that same hoodie all week.”

“five days,” suguru corrected. “and it’s called sustainable fashion.”

he crossed the room and dropped one of the cups on the nightstand before flopping down at the edge of gojo’s bed. the mattress dipped with his weight, but gojo still didn’t move. he was hunched over now, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them, eyes locked on the floor like it had done something to offend him.

“you wanna talk about it?” suguru asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. “or are we just gonna sit here marinating in existential dread?”

gojo let out a slow breath.

“she told me about her ex, sukuna.”

suguru raised an eyebrow. “oh?”

“last night. while we were watching that dumb movie. she just… opened up. said he made her feel like a prop. like he only wanted her because she looked good on his arm. and when he didn’t need her, he’d just," gojo’s jaw clenched. “he’d drop her. ignore her. talk over her. like she was a fucking purse he forgot he was holding.”

suguru whistled low. “that tracks.”

gojo’s voice dropped, hoarse. “i didn’t know it was her.”

suguru frowned. “what do you mean?”

“i remembered this one party. he was dragging a girl out by the wrist, just yanking her through the crowd like she was nothing. i didn’t say anything. didn’t even think twice. but now—what if that was her? what if i saw that happening and i just… let it?”

he ran a hand down his face, the guilt pressing heavier now.

suguru didn’t answer for a long moment. then, slowly, he sat up straighter.

“satoru,” he said quietly. “you didn’t know.”

“that’s not an excuse.”

“no,” suguru agreed. “but it’s the truth.”

gojo shook his head. “i should’ve seen it. i should’ve noticed. i should’ve cared.”

“you care now.”

“i lied to her.”

suguru fell silent.

gojo stood up suddenly, the coffee still untouched on the nightstand. he began pacing, his bare feet whispering across the hardwood floor.

“she was so honest with me, man. sat there in my bed and told me about the worst parts of herself—about how she felt like she was broken after him. and i just sat there, playing the good guy, letting her think i was different. letting her believe in me. when the whole reason i even talked to her was because of a fucking bet.”

the word hit like a punch.

suguru leaned back on his hands, watching his friend come apart.

“you still haven’t told her.”

gojo let out a bitter laugh. “how the hell do i tell her that, suguru? ‘hey, remember when i bumped into you at the café? yeah, turns out i only asked you out because you were part of a game i was trying to win’? that won’t hurt her. that’ll ruin her.”

suguru didn’t argue.

gojo stopped pacing, facing the window now, watching students pass by on the sidewalk outside. people laughing, sipping iced coffees, dragging skateboards behind them. the world kept turning, oblivious to the storm in his chest.

“i think i’m in love with her.”

it came out quietly. like a confession. like a truth he hadn’t been ready to say until this exact moment.

suguru blinked. “you think?”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “i know.”

silence settled between them. suguru finally stood, grabbing the untouched coffee and offering it out to gojo like a peace offering.

“you’re in deep, huh?”

gojo took the cup without meeting his eyes. “drowning.”

~

meanwhile, in your dorm room, you sat curled up on your twin bed, your legs tucked under a fleece throw blanket, your favorite oversized mug cupped in both hands. the tea inside had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. you were staring at gojos contact reminiscing about what he had said to you before letting you go off to your dorm.

'thanks for trusting me with that. you’re not broken. you’re still here. that matters more than anything. sleep well, angel.'

you’d been thinking about that for almost ten minutes, trying not to cry.

the word angel shouldn’t have made your heart skip. but it did.

you didn’t know what this was, what you and gojo were becoming, but for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt like you could breathe. like someone actually saw you, the real you, not just the version that looked good in pictures or sounded impressive on paper.

and that terrified you.

because you’d believed sukuna, too. once.

you’d fallen for his smile, his confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the center of the universe, until you weren’t. until you were just another trophy. another girl to brag about. another reason for people to envy him.

you still remembered the way he’d spoken to you in public—possessive, controlling, sometimes mocking—and how quickly he could flip the script when you tried to call him out.

'you’re being too sensitive. don’t embarrass me like that. you should be grateful i even brought you.'

it had taken so long to untangle yourself from him. and longer still to stop blaming yourself for the way he’d treated you.

but last night, when gojo looked at you, really looked at you, it didn’t feel like pity or lust or even casual interest. it felt like something quiet. steady. real.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

your phone buzzed.

gojo: you awake?

you smiled before you could stop yourself, thumbing a reply with hesitant fingers.

n/n 💗 : barely. why?

gojo: sweet! i owe you another ramen night. but this time i’ll actually let you pick the movie.

your heart did a little backflip. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, cheeks warm.

n/n 💗 only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through.

gojo: i can’t promise that. but i can promise snacks ! 😁

you laughed, the sound breaking the stillness of your room like sunlight through fog.

maybe this was real.

maybe, just maybe, gojo was exactly who he seemed.

and maybe that scared you even more than sukuna ever did.

~

the night went by fast, it always did with satoru. like the one previous you had spent it eating snacks and watching movies on his bed huddled infront of a laptop. now, most don't find watching random romcoms in a frat guys room very appealing, but to you it felt safe, like a home away from home.

he was your home away from home.

now, you were walking with satoru around campus as you had planned over text about an hour ago.

the midday sun hung lazily over campus, casting a hazy golden warmth across the walkways and tree-lined paths. students moved around like streams of color—some laughing in groups, others rushing to class, earbuds in, eyes down. but in the middle of it all, it felt like just the two of you.

you walked quietly beside gojo, your small hand brushing the edge of his hoodie now and then when your steps got too close. he didn’t mind. he never did. if anything, he leaned into it, like it soothed something in him just to be near you. he adjusted his stride to match yours without thinking, even though his legs were long enough to cross campus in five minutes flat.

but he didn’t want fast. he wanted this. you.

you were heading to your bio class, and he had no reason to be anywhere near the science building. but he still showed up at the café ten minutes before your lecture started, hands in his pockets, grinning like it was the best part of his day. because it was.

and god, you were so pretty when you looked surprised to see him. like you didn’t expect someone like him to show up for someone like you.

but that was the thing. he’d never met anyone like you.

“you really don’t have to walk me every time,” you murmured, eyes low, voice soft and unsure. like you didn’t want to seem like a burden.

and it killed him. how you always shrank yourself, always made yourself smaller—as if your presence was anything less than his favorite fucking thing.

“yeah, but then who’s gonna make sure you don’t trip over your own shadow?” he teased gently.

you let out a quiet laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. your fingers were delicate, your smile bashful, and gojo felt the urge to say something completely insane like marry me.

he didn’t, obviously. but it lived in his throat.

he watched you with the kind of attention he never gave anything else. memorized the curve of your cheek, the soft press of your lips when you were thinking, the way you glanced at him like you were still trying to believe he was real. and when you looked away, flustered by your own laugh, he swore the sun hit you different.

you were always cute. painfully cute. but in that moment? he was dizzy with it.

“besides,” he added, smirking, “how else am i supposed to get my daily dose of cuteness?”

your steps slowed. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said, bumping your shoulder. “you’re good for my blood pressure or whatever.”

you shook your head, blushing so hard you could barely walk straight. and he could’ve died right there. from the way you smiled at your shoes, from how shy you looked just standing next to him. like he wasn’t completely, pathetically obsessed with you already.

he wanted to tell you you were beautiful.

not just hot, not the kind of thing he said to girls at parties, not anything casual. but soft. lovely. untouchable. yours is the kind of face you write songs about. you look like you belong in someone’s arms at sunset.

he wanted to tell you he dreamed about you.

he wanted to tell you he was in love with you, probably more than he should be.

but all he said was, “i think we should watch the kissing booth next time you come over.”

you smiled, small and bashful again, and it tugged something deep in his chest. something real.

and as you walked in companionable silence, gojo glanced down at you. at your long lashes, the curve of your mouth, the way you hugged your books to your chest like a shield. you were so soft. so careful. like you were afraid of taking up space.

but he saw everything.

he saw the way you tried to be brave, even when you were scared. he saw how you still smiled, still tried, even when the world had been cruel to you.

he wanted to wrap you up and protect you from everything. from the past, from shitty exes, from the version of himself that used to not care about anyone or anything.

you made him care.

and that terrified him. because there was still something he hadn’t told you.

“can i ask you something?” he said suddenly, voice quieter now.

“of course, satoru."

he swallowed. “would you… hate me if i wasn’t exactly who you thought i was?”

your wide eyes met his. soft. concerned. not an ounce of judgment.

“hmm? what do y' mean?”

he stopped walking. the sun filtered through the leaves above, casting shadows across your face like a painting.

“what if i told you i’ve made mistakes?” he said. “like, bad ones. the kind that make you want to erase yourself and start over.”

your fingers clutched your book tighter, but you didn’t flinch.

“i think we all have those kinds of mistakes,” you said gently. “but that doesn’t make you a bad person. just human.”

and gojo, god he felt like the ground had disappeared under him.

because you meant it. even without knowing the truth. even with your soft voice and your shy little glances and the way you stood so close, so trusting. you believed in him. still.

he never wanted to break that look in your eyes.

“i never want to hurt you,” he whispered.

you reached out, fingers trembling a little as they curled around his wrist. so delicate. so warm.

“if it’s something from before…” you said, barely above a whisper. “you can tell me. i won’t run away.”

you probably meant it, too. even though your heart was fragile, even though your past left you aching in ways you didn’t talk about, you were still reaching for him.

and that… god, that broke him. he stared at your hand. you were so small. so good. too good for him. and yet… here you were.

he should’ve told you right then. ripped it off like a band-aid.

but all he could think about was how beautiful you looked when you trusted him. how sweet your voice sounded when you called him satoru. how much it would hurt when that melted into betrayal.

so instead, he smiled.

“you’re dangerous when you talk like that,” he said, voice light again. “i’m two seconds from spilling my soul.”

you tilted your head, unconvinced. “satoru…”

he grinned. “i promise i’ll tell you. just not today.”

you hesitated, then nodded slowly. “okay. but i’m holding you to it.”

his chest twisted.

you shouldn’t be so kind to him.

but you were.

and it made him want to be worthy of you.

“deal,” he said. and as you started walking again, he let his hand brush yours. not quite holding it. but close.

close enough that maybe, just maybe you could still forgive him when the truth finally came out.

because he already knew:

he loved you.

he loved you more than anything else in this fucked up world.

and he’d do anything to keep that look in your eyes a little longer.

~

it started with suguru flopping onto the leather couch in the alpha phi common room, yawning like he hadn’t just come from class.

“so,” he said, cracking open a cold can of something carbonated and probably stolen from the communal fridge. “are you ever gonna introduce her to the rest of us, or are you just gonna keep hiding your little girlfriend away like a dragon hoarding treasure?”

gojo didn’t even look up from his phone. he was already typing out his good morning text to you.

“first of all,” he said, thumbs moving fast, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“right,” suguru drawled. “you just text her twenty-four seven, walk her to class, and cancel beer pong night so you can rewatch spirited away on your couch with her.”

“it’s a good movie,” gojo muttered.

“you hate that movie.”

“i like it now.”

suguru snorted, propping his feet up on the table. “you’re gone, man.”

gojo leaned back in his seat, a lopsided grin creeping over his face despite himself. he didn’t bother denying it. what was the point?

movie nights had started casually. he’d invited you over under the pretense of “redeeming your taste in cinema.” you’d blushed and giggled, tugging your sleeves over your hands and asking, “does that mean you’re gonna make me watch transformers?”

“don’t tempt me,” he’d said, already queuing it up.

but instead, you’d picked soft, strange little films—quiet ones with too many close-ups and too little dialogue. and something about sitting on the worn-out alpha phi couch with you, shoulders just barely touching, watching the flicker of light dance over your face as you whispered, “this part always makes me cry,” had rewired his brain entirely.

you’d grown braver, little by little.

the first night, you’d sat on the far end of the bed, legs curled beneath you, body coiled tight like you expected to be mocked or judged at any moment. gojo had kept the mood light, cracking jokes, tossing popcorn at your head, playing the fool.

but by the third night, you’d fallen asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

and he hadn’t moved. not for an hour. not even when his arm went numb. not even when suguru walked in, saw you, and mouthed simp before tiptoeing out.

by the fourth night, you were wearing one of his hoodies.

and by the fifth, you were stealing all his blankets and kicking him when he tried to take them back.

it was getting bad. it was getting real.

so when suguru pushed again, raising a brow over the rim of his can and saying, “i’m serious, you should bring her to the party this weekend. the guys are starting to think you made her up,” gojo didn’t roll his eyes this time.

gojo narrowed his eyes. “what do you think of her? isn't she in your ethics?"

“quiet. polite. smart. a little skittish.”

he meant it kindly, but gojo’s jaw tensed anyway. “she’s been through some shit.”

“i figured.”

“sukuna.”

suguru winced. “fuck.”

“yeah.”

there was a beat of silence. then suguru said, “you like her.”

gojo didn’t answer. he didn’t have to.

“bring her,” suguru said, softer now. “if you’re serious. let her see that not all frat guys are trash.”

gojo looked down at his phone again, at your name on the screen, at the little pink heart next to it. then he nodded, almost to himself.

“yeah,” he said. “okay.”

~

you met up on thursday afternoon, by the west quad fountain where the sun always hit just right and the flower beds looked like something out of a disney movie. gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against the stone ledge, phone in hand.

“i was starting to think you stood me up,” he teased as you approached.

you tucked your chin down shyly, smiling. “you’re five minutes early.”

“and you’re three minutes late.”

you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. god, you were cute. the cute jeans you wore today captured your curved hips perfectly, and your lip gloss shimmered when the light caught it. your hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon that matched your cute sweater.

he wanted to bottle you up. keep you. never let anything hurt you again.

“so,” he said, hands in his hoodie pockets, “my frat’s throwing a party this weekend.”

you froze, just slightly.

“you… want me to come?” you asked.

he tilted his head. “only if you want to. no pressure. i just... my friends wanna meet you.”

you looked down at your shoes, worrying your bottom lip. he noticed. of course he did.

“you don’t have to wear anything crazy,” he added quickly. “it’s chill. no themes. just music and drinks and—”

“i want to,” you said quietly.

he blinked. “yeah?”

you nodded. “i just… don’t have anything to wear.”

you didn’t say it like a joke. you said it like a confession.

gojo softened. “wanna show me what you’ve got? we can pick something together.”

you hesitated, then nodded.

“okay.”

~

your dorm was adorable. pink. soft.

he took it all in the second he stepped inside. the plush pillows shaped like hearts, the lace curtains, the fuzzy white rug by your bed. shelves lined with figurines, pastel notebooks stacked in a corner, fairy lights framing your mirror.

it smelled like strawberries and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t name.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “this is the cutest room i've ever seen."

you laughed, cheeks warming. “sorry. it’s a lot, huh?”

“no,” he said, spinning in a slow circle. “it’s so you.”

he meant it. he loved it. he loved you.

you opened your closet and began sifting through hangers, pulling out a couple of outfits and holding them up for inspection.

“i don’t really wanna wear something… like this,” you said, voice softer now as you held up a tight, low-cut mini dress. “i used to wear stuff like this to sukuna’s parties. because he liked it.”

gojo’s jaw clenched.

“he used to pick what i wore,” you continued, almost like you were talking to yourself. “he said it made me look ‘fuckable.’”

gojo stepped forward, gentle but firm.

“you don’t ever have to wear something like that again,” he said. “not for me. not for anyone.”

you looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“wear what makes you feel good,” he added. “what makes you feel safe.”

you nodded slowly, turning back to your closet.

in the end, you chose what made you feel the most comfortable.

“i'll just wear this,” you said. "feels normal."

gojo beamed.

“then it’s perfect.”

~

you didn’t know it yet, but he’d already cleared it with suguru. made sure the music wouldn’t be too loud, that the crowd wouldn’t be too rowdy, that you’d have somewhere to sit if you got overwhelmed. he was thinking ten steps ahead.

because he didn’t want this to be like sukuna’s parties.

he wanted this one to be yours.

~

you heard the party before you saw it, music pulsing through the ground, the kind of bass-heavy beat that made your ribs vibrate and your bones feel hollow. the frat house loomed ahead like a palace of chaos: lights flashing from the second-story windows, silhouettes flitting past the curtains, laughter and shouting spilling out through the open door.

you paused just outside, nerves buzzing like static under your skin.

“whoa,” you breathed, fingers tightening around the sleeve of gojo’s hoodie. “it’s… a lot.”

he looked down at you with that soft, easy smile, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “it is a lot,” he agreed. “want to run? we can say we got kidnapped by squirrels.”

you laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky but genuine. “tempting.”

his palm made slow, reassuring circles against your back. “we’ll take it slow, yeah? you’re with me.”

you nodded, and with that, gojo led you up the steps.

the moment the two of you crossed the threshold, the temperature changed. warmth and sweat and alcohol thick in the air. bodies pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of red solo cups and hazy eyes. someone yelled gojo’s name, and the room shifted.

it was like time stopped for half a second.

then the crowd surged, boys calling out, heads turning, eyes locking on the tall, white-haired frat boy walking in with someone clinging gently to his sleeve. someone who wasn’t tall or loud or a blonde girl in a skin-tight mini dress. someone who didn’t fit the mold of “gojo satoru’s usual.”

someone who was you.

“no fucking way,” one guy barked, elbowing his friend. “is that—?”

“holy shit, gojo’s got a girlfriend?”

“what happened to the dumb cheerleader from gamma?”

the murmurs spread like wildfire. you felt them, even if you couldn’t catch every word. the stares burned hot, and suddenly your skin felt too tight.

but gojo just grinned like he didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

he dipped down, lips brushing your ear. “ignore them. they’ve never seen a real girl before.”

you flushed, gripping his arm tighter.

the house was bigger inside than it looked, sprawling with rooms that all bled into one another. the main floor was packed, but gojo expertly steered you through the chaos, guiding you toward a quieter alcove near the stairs. you could tell he was trying to give you a second to breathe.

“there he is!” a voice called, and suguru appeared from the crowd, hair tied back, black gauges catching the light. he was nursing a beer and wearing that same smirk he always had in class, cool, unbothered, like nothing could ever surprise him.

but when his eyes landed on you, they lit up with something close to recognition.

“hey,” he said, stepping forward. “ethics class, right?”

you blinked, this was the guy you used to have abit of a crush on before gojo... “yeah... geto?”

he nodded, and you relaxed just a little. suguru was quiet in class, but he always had a pen behind his ear and never made you feel stupid when you got nervous speaking up.

“i knew gojo was full of shit when he said he was just ‘casually seeing someone,’” suguru said, glancing at his friend with a teasing grin. “but damn, you’re even cuter in person.”

your cheeks flamed. gojo rolled his eyes and slung an arm around your shoulder, tugging you close like he could shield you from the world.

you and gojo never really established what you were, but now you at least knew he was telling people you two were 'seeing eachother.'

“back off,” he said with a mock growl. “she’s fragile. like a baby deer.”

“she’s not fragile,” suguru said mildly, giving you a wink. “but she does look like adorably clueless.”

you laughed at that, and suguru grinned, satisfied.

a few more of gojo’s frat brothers filtered over. nanami, with his blond hair and sharp eyes; toji, towering and terrifying until he said something about how “adorable” your shoes were; even shoko, the only girl in the group, who gave you a once-over and muttered, “thank god. i was starting to think gojo only liked girls who talked in hashtags.”

they were loud and teasing, but none of them made you feel the way sukuna’s crowd used to.

sukuna’s parties had been darker somehow. colder. always something bitter in the air. you remembered standing in corners alone while he disappeared, remembered the way he used to show you off like a new toy. like you were there to prove a point. he used to demand you wear short skirts, high heels, tops that made you feel naked. he’d touch your thigh too hard when you sat, whisper in your ear things that made you gross small.

you’d show up already tense, already braced.

but this? this was different.

you looked up at gojo now, laughing at something suguru said, and your chest ached.

he’d asked what you wanted to wear. had told you you looked beautiful even when you were wrapped in a cardigan. he’d helped you tie the ribbon in your hair and kissed your forehead like it was sacred.

you were still nervous, still out of your element—but you weren’t scared.

gojo nudged you gently. “want a drink? something mild?”

you nodded, and he guided you toward the kitchen, never letting his hand leave yours.

he poured you a soda himself, skipping the sketchy jungle juice, and brought you a paper straw because you’d mentioned once that plastic ones made your teeth feel weird. then he leaned against the counter, watching you sip like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“you’re killin’ me, y’know,” he said casually.

you blinked. “what?”

“look at you.” his voice dropped, all affection. “walking in here like a dream in that little dress. making everyone fall in love with you. it’s rude, honestly.”

you ducked your head, overwhelmed. “stop…”

“can’t,” he said, and then leaned down, brushing his nose against your temple. “i’ve got it bad.”

you smiled into your drink, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

the kitchen door swung open and more people spilled in, so gojo guided you out again, weaving through the house toward the back room. it was quieter there—a pool table, a few couches, ambient music humming from a speaker.

you sat together, close but not quite touching.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice lower now, meant only for you.

you nodded. “yeah. just… this is different.”

“different bad or different good?”

you looked at him. “good.”

he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all night. “you’re doing amazing, by the way.”

you smiled. “you always say that.”

“’cause it’s always true.”

the next few minutes passed in easy conversation. someone from gojo’s econ class came by and said something dumb, and you laughed, hiding your smile in his shoulder. he lit up like you’d just given him a trophy.

people drifted in and out of the room, some lingering to meet “gojo’s girl,” others sneaking glances like they were watching a myth unfold. he let them look. he kept his arm around you.

when you reached for your phone to check the time, he caught your hand and held it, threading his fingers through yours without hesitation.

“you wanna leave soon?” he asked softly.

you bit your lip. “can we stay a little longer? i’m… actually having fun.”

his smile cracked wide, full of boyish delight. “you got it.”

and in that moment, as he tugged you a little closer, as the music pulsed and the voices rose and fell, you realized something that made your heart squeeze.

you felt safe.

not because the party wasn’t wild. not because the stares had stopped. not because your dress was longer or your shoes more comfortable.

you felt safe because he was here.

because gojo satoru, life of the party, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

and somehow, that made all the difference.

[soldiersgirl]

i’m new to jensen and all his fandoms

but idc ❤️

GIVE ME a one-shot where solider boy is a stalker and one fine day, he takes you, knowing very little about how you wanted him too <3

HERES THE INSPO u revolved my reblog LMAO

YES MA'AM 🫡 and also welcome to the jackles lovers club <3 (i hope this was to ur liking).

summary — he wanted you. you needed him.

cw — reader x soldier boy. stalking mentions, yearning!soldier boy, hints at unhealthy relationship, fluff (kinda).

word count — 757 words

soldier boy watched you for weeks and it feels like he finally knows every little thing about you. the way you like your coffee sweet, the way you constantly push away your bangs whilst readjusting your bag, the way you constantly nibble on your bottom lip, the way your headphones are always blasting your current obsession and how you're always singing along without realising.

thank god for those headphones. they kept you so preoccupied, so cooped up in your little dream world that you never noticed him; looming over you, wishing to know all your little thoughts, desires, wants and wishes.

was he your favourite supe? did you dream of him, like he did you? would you love him, like he unequivocally did you? would you accept him or push him away like the others had done? maybe you would be the one to finally see him for who he really is. a fool plagued by you and desperate for your attention.

for years, centuries, women had chased him, but now everything was turned on its head and what for? all for you. ben never thought a non-supe could catch his eyes quite like you did. he noticed you always sitting across the flatiron building (a.k.a the boys hq) in the cute café that was nestled amongst the urban towers. every morning, you sat in the same place, ordered the same coffee and pastry and typed away for what felt like hours.

he'd watch you from the boys office, from the roof when he went to smoke his daily joint and out front when he'd wish the boys goodnight before walking the same, tiring route home. he hadn't meant to stalk you. never. but somehow, he found himself walking your route home, just a few steps behind you with his hood up and wired headphones playing his favourites, as his trained eyes never left you as he remained unseen until he finally couldn't deny himself any longer.

leaving the café at 5:00 pm on the dot like usual, you threw your thick scarf over your shoulder, pulled on your trustworthy headphones and pressed play. the new york winter was harsh and as the wind howled and whipped around you, you sought refuge in a desolate alleyway to escape the worst of the brewing storm. ben couldn't believe his luck. finally, he could have you all to himself.

but this was planned. you knew ben had been watching you. you had noticed. and you definitely didn't mind.

"are you finally going to talk to me?" you pull off your headphones and turn to the supe, frozen and in reaching distance of you. despite the strength of the winds, you can hear your quickened heartbeat and his low panting.

"so, you've noticed." he pulls off his hood and stands tall in front of you, allowing you the chance to finally admire him. your eyes dance over his hardened features, his soft crows-eyes framing his eyes and his infamous smirk already planted across his lush lips. "what are you gonna do abou' it, sweetheart? hm?" he hums and takes a small step forward, testing the waters.

"i've... been waiting for you." you mirror him and step forward. what he didn't know was that all those hours you spent in the café was only to get a glimpse of him. you had daydreamed about him for years and somehow, by what you believe was destiny, soldier boy had been found alive and you weren't going to deny destiny.

you reach your hand out and let your fingertips graze against his and before you can blink, he pushes you up against the nearest wall, trapping you between his toned arms. your bag and headphones fall from your grasp and land with a thump onto the damp alley-way floor. he shamelessly scans your face for any hint of fear, but finds none. you gaze upon him like a wounded animal would their captor, filled with unspoken trust and hope.

"i've been waiting for this." you sigh.

"didn't your mother tell you not to trust strangers?" he scoffs in return as he delicately twirls your hair around his fingers.

"strangers? i've known you my whole life, ben. i was made for you." your light voice whispers.

ben knew then and there that he couldn't possibly deny that truth. he hastily picked up your discarded items, held you tightly against his strong frame, showing you the softness he was never offered. he was a soldier and his sole objective was now to care for you in the world of war, injustice and false gods.

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei (comment or inbox me to be added)

[taesansbeloved]

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. (엔하이펜)

synopsis: doing skincare/cozy stuff with bf!enhypen warnings 🚨 tooth rotting fluff, skinship, petnames, and kissing.

(Hyung line)

Nova notes: HIHI ❣️ this was based on this request. I will probably do a whole one for Ni-ki later, and also probably Heeseung because I cannot resist writing fluff for this man. Maknae line here.

Heeseung (희승)

You were sat on the bathroom counter with Heeseung in between your legs, hands on your thigh, rubbing up and down gently, watching you with heart eyes while you apply moisturiser on his face. "Stop looking at me like that." You said shyly, his gaze making your face heat up. "Why? You're pretty." He stated, his gaze not wavering from your ethereal face. Your smile widens as you feel Heesueng leaning closer to your touch. "Everyday I'm shocked that you're my girlfriend, because omg, you're fucking gorgeous." He whispered, relishing in the feeling of your warm hand. You roll eyes, trying to hide your flustered face, but that's impossible when he is looking at you like THAT. He chuckles slightly and turns his head, kissing your palm lovingly.

Jay (정성)

You were having a tough week as it was midterms season. Constant studying, endless stressing, and a ruined sleep schedule that had Jay ruining his aswell. Jay knew that one of the ways to help you ease the stress, besides his cooking, is simply taking care of you. "Baby, I'm fine really. I just need to sleep." You said as Jay placed you on the bathroom counter and stood in between your legs, having your entire night care routine out beside you. "Yeah, and you also need some me love. So I'm giving you some." He said softly as he picked up the cleanser. He gently wet your face with a damp towel and began rubbing the cleanser all over your. You can feel your eyes getting heavier with every warm touch against your skin. Jay chuckled as he took in your drowsy figure, feeling his heart warm up with an overwhelming amount of love. "I hate seeing you this stressed, baby, you know that?" He said softly as he was caressing your face tenderly. "Blame the school system." You said, voice low with sleep and exhaustion. Jay sighed as he walked you to the he'd and completed your skincare while your sleeping soundly on the bed. "Sleep well, princess."

Jake (재윤)

You and him were sat opposite to eachother on your shared bed with a variety of different colors of nail polish. "Okay, so, what color do you want, baby?" Jake asked, assessing each color individually. "I don't really know. You choose for me." You said with a cheeky smile. Jake smiled, looking up at you with eyes full of stars. "Oh, I've been waiting for this day. Okay, I will not disappoint you." He paused then gasped again, "Should I make you a design?" He asked with huge puppy eyes. You nodded, sharing the same enthusiasm. He picked up the baby pink and the pearly white nail polish and began painting your nails while talking with you about everything and nothing. After an hour or so, Jake finished with an excited clap. "Okay, I put my heart, sweat, and tears into this. I hope you like it." He said as you brought your hands up to see his masterpiece. Eyes lighting up with adoration, "omg, jake I love this! I will never take it off." You said, throwing your arms around him and peppering kisses all over his face. His and your giggles filled the room, love swirling in the dim room.

Sunghoon (성훈)

"What's that for?" That was the question Sunghoon has been asking everytime you put a different product on his face. Now you were doing face masks. "This is a hydration face mask." You said simply, standing on your tip-toes to place the sheet mask over his flawless face. His hands unconsciously finding its way to your waist, holding you gently yet protectively. "And what's the one you have on your face?" He asked, mumbling from the face mask, afraid of disturbing you while you're patting it down. "It's the same thing just a different color." You explained, pushing his soft bangs away to smooth the mask down on his forehead. He hummed as he began rubbing your waist up and down, filling your stomach with butterflies. "Now we wait 20 minutes." You said, standing back at your original height. "I have some ideas that can fill those 20 minutes." He smirked down at you as you rolled your eyes, pecking his lips slightly that eventually led to a 20 minute make out session.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[pankesitopank]

“Long Time No See” – Bang Chan x Reader

smut

idol!chan x fem!reader

summary: chan is desperate and horny after not seeing you for weeks because of his tour.

Word count: 1k aprox

warnings: sex after a long time; desperate fuck; oral (f); overstimulation (kinda); piv; no condom; creampie ; idk how this works kkk let me know if i missed something

notes: I've been with this idea since last fucking week and i loved it, it can be better? yes ofc, but for a first time writing smut? idk maybe its mediocre

I know i said i hate breeding but in this one its good... for the feelings yk? and its not explicit breeding, just a silly lil creampie

It starts the moment he walks through the door.

You barely get the chance to see his face before his arms are around you, hauling you against him like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. His suitcase clatters forgotten to the floor. You hear his breath catch as he buries his face in your neck.

“Fuck, I missed you…”

You don’t get to answer.

His mouth crashes into yours like a storm—hungry, bruising, devastating. There’s no buildup, no teasing. It’s pure need. Weeks of sleepless nights, rushed video calls, aching hard-ons with nothing but memories to jerk off to—he pours all of it into that kiss.

You moan into him, fingers fisting in his hoodie, and he growls low in his chest like it physically hurts him to be clothed around you.

“Off,” he mutters, tugging at your shirt, yanking it up and over your head without bothering to be gentle. His own hoodie’s discarded seconds later, revealing flushed skin and frantic muscles that twitch under your touch. “Need you now, baby. Can’t wait.”

You nod, breathless, dazed. “I missed you too—so much—”

He backs you toward the bedroom like a man possessed, lips glued to yours the entire way. When the backs of your knees hit the bed, he lifts you—just lifts you like you weigh nothing—and lays you down.

Then he drops to his knees.

No teasing. No words. Just his hands sliding under your thighs, dragging your hips to the edge, and yanking your shorts down in one swift, needy motion.

And then his mouth is on you.

You gasp, hand flying to his hair as his tongue finds your clit instantly, like he never forgot the exact way to ruin you.

He’s desperate. Sloppy. Loud.

Groaning into your pussy like he’s starved, like he’s making up for every day his mouth wasn’t on you. He licks in hard, hungry strokes, alternating between slow drags and quick flicks, lips sealing around your clit with obscene precision.

You cry out, legs twitching, hips grinding into his face without thought. He lets you. Encourages it.

“Yeah, fuck my face,” he growls against your cunt. “Been thinking about this every fucking night.”

His grip on your thighs tightens as he sucks harder, nose pressed right against you. You’re dripping, writhing, already teetering on the edge from how overwhelmingly good it feels.

You feel everything. The soft scrape of his stubble. The heat of his mouth. The filthy, wet sounds filling the room as he eats you like it’s his last meal.

“Chan—Chan, I—”

“You gonna cum for me already?” His voice is hoarse, wrecked with need. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, barely able to form words, and then you’re gone.

You cum with a sob, thighs clamping around his head as he licks you through it—refuses to let go, tongue working every pulse of your orgasm until you’re shaking and gasping for air.

He doesn’t stop.

You try to squirm away—too sensitive—but his arms lock you in place.

“Not done,” he rasps, tongue flicking your clit again with laser focus. “Need more.”

You whimper, body twitching, overstimulated and soaked, but he doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied—until you’re trembling under him and pulling at his hair like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Finally, he lifts his head, mouth and chin slick, eyes dark and fucking wild.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

Then he’s standing, shoving his sweats down, cock already rock-hard and leaking. He fists himself once, twice, lining up with your entrance without a word.

You’re still twitching when he slides inside—slow, deep, and thick.

The stretch knocks the air out of you. Your back arches, mouth falling open as you feel every inch of him sinking into you.

“Shit—so tight,” he groans, voice cracking. “God, baby, I forgot how fucking good this feels.”

You moan his name, gripping his arms, and he starts to move.

The pace is devastating.

Not just fast. Not just deep. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to reclaim you. Like he needs to mark you from the inside out. His hips snap forward, hard and relentless, forcing your body to slide up the bed with every thrust.

“You’re mine, fucking mine” he growls, hands digging into your hips. “Say it.”

“Y-yours, Chan—”

He pulls out nearly all the way, then slams back in, hard.

“Again, say my name.”

“Mmh- B-Bang Chan—” You cry out, overwhelmed, brain barely catching up.

“Louder.”

"B-Bang Chan! I’m yours!”

The sound he makes is feral.

He leans down, one hand gripping your jaw, eyes locked to yours as he fucks you harder, deeper, his body practically welded to yours.

You’re a mess. Legs wrapped around him, nails dragging down his back, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how intense it is. You’ve never felt this full. This owned.

You need him to cum.

“Inside,” you gasp. “Please—want it inside.”

“Yeah?” he pants, breath ragged. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nod, voice gone, and that’s all it takes.

He thrusts once, twice—then freezes, cock buried deep as his hips twitch and he groans so loud it rattles in your chest. You feel him release inside you, warm and thick, as your own climax rips through you in a messy, breathless crash.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your heartbeats, the ragged breaths you share, and the soft, sticky slide of his cock still inside you.

Then he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you, pressing his face to your neck as his arms wrap around you like he’ll never let go again.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything. Missed you so fucking bad.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, chest still rising and falling in uneven waves.

“I love you too,” you whisper. “You’re home now.”

He pulls out slowly, groaning as he slips free, and immediately reaches down to gather his release leaking from you, pushing it back in with his fingers while you squirm.

“Gotta keep it all in,” he murmurs. “I meant every drop.”

You whine, overstimulated, and he kisses your forehead gently.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

And he does.

Minutes later, he’s got you curled against him under the blankets, one hand stroking lazy circles into your back, the other laced with yours on his chest. Your thighs are sticky, your body sore, but you’ve never felt more loved.

Or more his.

Omgee my first fic!! I hope you like it!! I'm looking forward to starting to write here when I have time, I really don't know how to edit the profile well so it looks nice but I'll keep looking at it.

If you want you can leave requests, the groups I feel most familiar with are SZK, NCT, WayV and Ateez hehe. English is not my firts lenguage, i can understand it but sometimes when I write it there may be mistakes or some strange writing by the translator (as I am doing right now), I speak spanish, im from latinoamerica so if you want to say smth in spanish you are welcome ^^.

here is the translation:

nada básicamente este es mi primer fic jiji, espero que les guste, no soy muy buena escribiendo pero es algo que me gusta. Lo que decía antes es que sí me quieren dejar un request lo pueden hacer tranquilamente, los grupos que seguro más escriba son skz, nct, wayv y ateez pero si me piden otro no hay drama soy multi stan y tmb de grupos femeninos lo que quieran.

El inglés no es mi primera lengua entonces seguro escriba mal en algunas partes o hayan oraciones que no tengan sentido pq usé el google translate ahre pero bueno.

Después voy a ver como pingo se edita el perfil kkk

[iamgonnagetyouback]

I've been thinking about your mattheo and potter!reader series and I think it would be very funny if his and Harry's roles were reversed. Maybe Mattheo needs Harry's help with something (buying a present for reader) and Harry can't resist crowing. Maybe Harry gets the chance to mess with him a little, idk.

If this gives you any ideas, feel free to use it. If it doesn't just delete this. Have a great day 💜💜

I NEED YOUR HELP.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ M. RIDDLE

SUMMARY ৎ୭ mattheo riddle asking harry potter for help is something you never thought you’d hear, but apparently, when it comes to your birthday, he’s willing to suffer. now harry’s dragging him all over hogsmeade, milking the moment for all it’s worth, and mattheo’s just trying to survive

WARNINGS ಇ. harry being insufferably smug, mattheo suffering (but for you, so it’s fine), fluff & birthday sweetness, twice use of y/n, hufflepuff!reader mentioned once MORE OF THESE THREE ￫ ୨ৎ A/N ಇ. funny enough, i actually had a similar idea ages ago, but it was more angsty—mattheo and you had a fight, and harry ended up helping him fix it. but i wasn’t totally happy with it, so this idea??? absolute gold. thank you sm for this and for loving this series ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,332

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Mattheo Riddle had done a lot of questionable things in his life. He had charmed teachers to get out of detentions, sweet-talked his way into secret passageways, and once even talked a first-year into sneaking into the kitchens just to grab him a midnight snack. But never—not once—had he stooped as low as asking Harry bloody Potter for help.

And yet, here he was, standing outside the Gryffindor common room like a man about to walk to his execution.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, this is unusual. A Slytherin at the lion’s den? What’s the world coming to?"

Mattheo ignored her, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor. “Potter,” he called, resisting the urge to bang on the portrait like some kind of desperate idiot. “Open the damn door.”

The portrait swung open, and there stood Harry, looking half-curious, half-annoyed—until he registered exactly who was knocking. Then his entire face morphed into one of disbelief, quickly followed by a smirk so smug it made Mattheo’s fingers twitch toward his wand.

“Well, well, well,” Harry drawled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “If it isn’t my favorite Slytherin.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Potter.”

Harry tilted his head, his grin widening. “What’s the matter? Lost? Need directions back to your snake pit?”

Mattheo inhaled deeply, reminding himself that killing Harry would probably ruin his chances with you. “I need your help.”

The words tasted like poison, and by the way Harry’s entire face lit up, Mattheo instantly regretted saying them.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, as if the universe had finally blessed him. “Oh, this is fantastic. This—this is the best day of my life.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shut up, Potter.”

“No, no, I won’t shut up,” Harry said, grinning like Christmas had come early. “You—you need me? Me? Merlin, someone pinch me.”

“I swear—”

“This is history. I should write it down.” Harry put a thoughtful hand to his chin, then turned toward the common room. “Oi! Ron!”

“I swear,” Mattheo said through gritted teeth, “if you keep running your mouth, I’ll hex you into next week.”

Harry clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Riddle. Now, what could possibly make you come to me of all people?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him. “It’s for Y/N.”

That wiped the smirk right off Harry’s face.

He straightened slightly. “Wait. Y/N?”

Mattheo nodded, jaw tightening. “Her birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something special. But I don’t know what.” His scowl deepened, loathing every second of this. “And apparently, you do.”

Harry blinked once. Twice. Then—

“Oh, this is amazing.”

Mattheo groaned. “I hate you.”

“You’re asking me how to impress my own sister?” Harry repeated, letting the words roll off his tongue like the finest honey. “You’re admitting that I know her better than you do?”

Mattheo’s eye twitched. “I will leave you here to die, Potter.”

Harry was practically glowing with amusement. “Relax, Riddle. I’ll help.” He stepped aside, motioning for Mattheo to follow. “But I’m never letting you live this down.”

Mattheo groaned. This was going to be absolute hell.

Harry just laughed, already grabbing his coat. “Let’s go, lover boy. We’ve got shopping to do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

An hour later, Mattheo knew one thing for certain: shopping with Harry Potter was a nightmare.

Diagon Alley was bustling with people, the air crisp, and the storefronts glowing with flickering signs. Mattheo had been here countless times, usually to lurk around Knockturn Alley or to not shop with purpose. But today? Today, he was walking through it with Harry Potter, of all people, trailing beside him with the smuggest expression known to wizardkind.

“So, what’s the plan?” Harry asked, hands in his pockets as they strode down the cobbled streets.

Mattheo exhaled. “I don’t know. Jewellery? A book? I just—” He hesitated, running a hand through his curls. “It has to be perfect.”

Harry shot him a sideways glance before smirking. “Wow. You’re really in deep, huh?”

Mattheo glared at him. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled but didn’t push. Instead, he steered them into a small boutique that seemed to have everything. Accessories, trinkets, books, clothing—if there was a good gift to be found, it would be here.

Harry suddenly gasped. Loudly.

Mattheo turned, brows furrowed. “What?”

Harry held up a hideous yellow hat with a massive feather sticking out of it. “This. This is the one.”

Mattheo stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to get me hexed?”

Harry bit back a grin. “What? It’s yellow. She’s a Hufflepuff. Makes sense.”

Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are actually insufferable.”

Harry, completely unbothered, plopped the hat onto Mattheo’s head and grinned. “Perfect. You match.”

Mattheo ripped it off immediately. “I hate you.”

Harry snickered, setting it back down before leading them toward another section. “Alright, Riddle. Let’s see if you actually know my sister.” He gestured to a selection of gifts. “What would she like?”

Mattheo frowned, scanning the shelves. Jewellery? No, she wasn’t into overly expensive things. Books? She liked them, but it didn’t feel personal enough. He ran a hand through his hair, growing frustrated.

Harry, meanwhile, was watching him with amusement. “Wow. You really don’t know, do you?”

Mattheo turned to glare at him. “Shut up, Potter.”

“I mean, this is kind of sad,” Harry continued, tapping his chin in mock pity. “Here I was thinking you were this smooth Slytherin, and you can’t even pick out a birthday present.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and kept walking, ignoring him. He needed something perfect. Something that would make you light up the way you always did when you got excited.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A delicate, enchanted necklace—simple, with a small charm that shifted between your favorite colors. It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was elegant. Yes, it was jewellery but more importantly, it was you.

Mattheo reached for it, turning it over in his fingers. He could already picture you wearing it, already imagine your smile.

Mattheo stared at it for a long moment before muttering, “She’ll like this.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful for you.”

Mattheo smirked. “Told you.”

“Still,” Harry said, grinning, “I think you should’ve gone with the hat.”

Mattheo punched him in the arm, pulling out his money.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The night of your birthday, Mattheo watched nervously as you opened his gift.

He had never been nervous before. Not in fights, not in duels, not even when facing detention with Snape. But watching you—the girl who had somehow taken over his heart—unwrap his present?

Merlin, it was terrifying.

Your fingers carefully lifted the lid of the box, and as soon as you saw what was inside, your whole face lit up.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes wide as you lifted the necklace from its velvet cushion. The charm shimmered, shifting from a soft gold to a warm shade of your favorite color.

Mattheo held his breath.

“This is—” You looked up at him, a bright smile on your lips. “It’s beautiful.”

Mattheo exhaled, relief washing over him. “Yeah?”

You nodded, fastening it around your neck before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. “I love it.”

His usual smugness returned, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Yeah, well. Had to make sure it was perfect.”

Harry, sitting nearby, loudly cleared his throat. “And who helped you pick it out?”

Mattheo’s eye twitched. “No one.”

Harry smirked. “That’s not what I remember.”

You blinked between them, amused. “Wait. You two went shopping together?”

Mattheo groaned. “It was awful.”

Harry grinned. “It was the best day of my life.”

You laughed leaning up to kiss Mattheo’s cheek. “Well, I love it.”

Mattheo smirked, draping an arm around you, while Harry made gagging noises in the background.

Somehow, this was the best birthday ever.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[potatoplace]

We Can Fix This

Poly!Feysand x Reader

We Can Do This (part 1) | We Can Do This Together (part 3)

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You get a bad haircut. You're four months pregnant. It's a rough day. But with Feyre and Rhys around? It's not so tough.

Warnings: none I don't think? Just a baaad haircut

Words: ~1.7k

Author's Note: It's heeeere the fic inspired by my own horrible haircut. Of course, I wasn't given micro bangs... I hope you all like it! Also I've been so happy to hear other peoples bad haircut stories, it's made me feel less alone in hating my own. Love you guys! Enjoy! 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You couldn't stop crying.

Not even with your phone buzzing non-stop for the past half hour, calls and texts pouring in from two different numbers.

You hadn't been able to move yourself from where you'd collapsed on the couch, your face buried in a pillow as you sobbed, a hand clenched in your hair and the other on the small bump of your stomach.

You weren't sure exactly how long you'd been laying there when knocks landed on your front door, gentle the first time, but growing more and more frantic by the second.

"Y/N?" A voice called through the door. "Y/N, are you in there?" They waited for a moment, likely hoping for a reply, but all you could manage was more sobs spilling from your lips. "I'm going to unlock the door."

You heard the lock turn and the slight squeak of the hinges, but didn't move an inch.

"Y/N?" Feyre asked, and you heard a quiet gasp. "Y/N are you okay?!" She asked frantically, her heels clicking quickly on the floor as she crossed the living room and rounded the couch to stand in front of you. You only cried harder, pressing your face further into the pillow.

You didn't want her to see you like this.

"Love, I need you to tell me if something is wrong. Are you hurt?" Feyre's gentle hands were smoothing over your back, one of them carding through your hair.

Your short, shoulder length hair.

The action only renewed your tears, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Please, Y/N, just tell me if you need me to take you to the hospital," Feyre begged, her hands now attempting to roll you onto your side, so she could see your face. You pushed against her, unwilling to move your face from where it was covered. She sighed heavily, and stopped trying to move you. "Just nod for me, love, yes or no. Do you need to see a doctor?"

You shook your head.

Not a doctor doctor. Maybe a psychiatrist, seeing as you were having a breakdown.

A breakdown over something as simple as a haircut...

You sobbed again, absolutely distraught at the state of your hair. You couldn't believe that your beautiful, long hair was now chopped to your shoulders. Already, you felt ugly and unfeminine, and you'd had the cut for less than a day.

"Okay, that's good at least..." Feyre said, her voice sad and quiet. "Will you let me hug you?" You shook your head again. "Hmm... I'll be back in just a second, love."

You heard her get up, the noise of a zipper, and a hushed conversation. It was likely that Feyre had called Rhys, which only made your tears pour out more quickly.

No one should see your hair like this, especially not them. They'd been so perfect with you, with everything surrounding the pregnancy. Taking you to doctor's appointments weekly, bringing you fresh groceries twice a week and cooking for you, making sure to text or call you to remind you to take your vitamins if they couldn't see you that day.

No, they didn't deserve to see how hideous you were, when they'd been so lovely. And they both had such gorgeous hair...

"Love, can you look at me?" Feyre asked softly in your ear when she returned to your side. You shook your head- the worst of it was your face. She sighed, and placed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. "Okay."

Feyre pulled the pillow out from under your face, and you made a discontented noise, your hands grasping for the fabric before it was taken from you. You pressed your face down into the couch, but a moment later, Feyre had lifted it up and slid onto the couch, laying your head in her lap.

"You don't have to explain anything, darling, just lay here, okay? Cry as much as you need," Feyre cooed, her left hand stroking gently over your back, her right carding through your hair. "I'll be here as long as you need."

You nuzzled your face into her lap, cheek brushing against the smooth, silky fabric.

Oh.

"Don't you..." The first words came out like a croak, and you paused to clear your throat. "Don't you still have the charity gala to get to?"

"They'll be just fine without me, sweetness, I'm perfect right where I am."

You sniffled. Maybe... If she was going to miss the event because of you... Maybe you could show her, so she wouldn't be wasting her time...

You gave yourself a few more minutes to let the tears pour out before you took a few deep breaths, then pushed yourself up, so you could rest your head on Feyre's shoulder.

"Hi, pretty girl," Feyre said shortly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, brushing the bangs on your head. Tears leaked from your eyes again at the remind of how your hair had been butchered. "Is this what's bothering you?" Feyre asked, a finger brushing against the tiny hairs covering part of your forehead. You managed a twitch of your head up and down before burying your face in her shoulder. "Oh, sweetness, I'm so sorry. Come here." Feyre pulled you onto her lap, her arms wrapping tightly around you.

You cried into her neck, tears falling onto her skin with each passing minute that you stayed there. Her hand continued to stroke your back and arm, so gentle and soft.

You'd nearly stopped crying entirely by the time your front door swung open again, a concerned Rhysand bursting through it.

"What's happened?" He asked, his tone carrying an underlying panic as he rounded the couch, taking in the sight of you curled into Feyre's body, her arms holding you against her while you buried your face further into her neck. "Are you alright, darling?"

Feyre tried for a moment to pull your face from her neck, with no luck. Instead, she pressed a kiss to the side of your head before mouthing something at Rhys, her free hand playing in your hair for a moment.

"Ah," Rhys said quietly before sitting down, angling his body so he was covering your back, his arms wrapping around you and Feyre. "I'm sorry, little love," he murmured into your hair, pressing gentle kisses along the back of your skull.

The three of you stayed there for a while, their soothing touches calming you down and nearly causing you to drift off, relaxing into their holds completely.

You were brought back to awareness by Rhys's large hand rubbing soft circles against your belly, and Feyre pressing her lips to your cheeks.

"Hey there, love," Feyre smiled at you, her eyes gentle. "Do you feel like telling us what happened?"

You sniffled but nodded your head. "I uhm... I wanted to cut a haircut for the gala tonight, so I'd booked with my usual hairstylist, but uhm..." You sniffed again, trying to hold back your tears, focusing on the feel of Rhys's hand. "She was out sick, so they gave me to another stylist. And she uhm... She... She butchered my hair," you cried, the tears trickling down your cheeks once more. "I told her I just wanted a trim and curtain bangs and..." You buried your face in Feyre's neck again.

"Oh, little love," Rhys cooed softly in your ear. "I'm so sorry, I know how much you love your hair."

And you did. Your beautiful, silky hair that had passed your waist this morning was your favorite feature you possessed, and haircare was of the few things you splurged on for yourself.

"Can I take a look, darling?" Rhys asked carefully from behind you, his hands poised on your shoulders to peel you away from Feyre, but you knew he wouldn't try unless you said yes.

"I don't want you to..." You whined into Feyre's skin, and she let out a soft chuckle.

"He's going to see at some point, love, and really, you're still absolutely gorgeous. I promise," Feyre reassured you, her soft hands running through your hair.

... She had a point, you supposed. So you let Rhys pull you away from Feyre a bit, albeit reluctantly.

Getting you to look at him was another story, and after a moment Rhys simply got in his knees in front of you and Feyre, capturing your face in his hands.

"Feyre's right, darling, you're absolutely flawless," he said with a charming smile, the one that sent butterflies through you, even now, four months after you'd first met them. "But, if you're up for it... I think we can fix this," he offered. Your face scrunched up at the idea of anyone touching your hair ever again. "Now, now. It won't be what you initially wanted, but I can give you some longer bangs to cover the ones you have now. And try to get you closer to the style you had before. How does that sound?" Rhys asked softly, his eyes sparkling.

You pouted at him while you considered it, and he put a thumb on your lower lip, tugging lightly on it. "Do you know how to cut hair?" You finally asked, giggling when he didn't relinquish his grip on your lip.

"My mother was a fantastic hairdresser, she taught me how to cut her hair when I was a child. Including bangs," he added.

You looked away poutily for a moment before meeting his violet gaze once more. "Okay..."

Rhys smiled at you, and your heart skipped a beat. "Good. I'll just need to buy some scissors or-" he paused, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "I'll have them delivered. That way I can keep making you feel better."

"We can keep making her feel better," Feyre added, and when you turned to look at her, you saw her glaring playfully at Rhys. "Now, do you have any food you want? Any cravings or desires? We can make it a fun night in, after all, those charity galas are such a bore. The only fun part of it was going to be seeing you in the gown we'd picked out," Feyre said, squeezing you against her again.

Now that she mentioned it...

"Funyuns sound really good... And cheesecake. And- Oh! Orange chicken!"

Feyre giggled against your neck. "Rhys? You get all that?"

"Of course, darling. Is there anything else you'd like, little love?" Rhys asked you patiently as he found everything you'd listed.

"Mm... Can we watch cheesy romcoms too?"

"For you? Anything."

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 9

Source for pic

Trouble 9

Word Count: 5471

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I've left very ominous comments in the last chapter, saying something big would happen in chapter 9... I didn't get to write the part I wanted, but I still think some big stuff happens in this chapter... I'll let you all be the judges of that! So tell me all about it, will you?

Masterlist

BANG, BANG, BANG! 

Your hands cover your ears, but not even that can keep out the deafening sound of the incessant pounding on the front door. 

Desperate sobs make your shoulders shake as tears flow freely down your already tear-streaked cheeks. 

You're so tired. 

“Make it stop… please, please, make it stop.” You whisper, pleading with whichever deity is willing to listen because you've run out of options. 

“Come on, Trouble! I know you're in there!” Zoro? “If you don't open this fucking door, I swear I will break it down!”

The relief that washes over you is immediate and dizzying. It's Zoro. It's not your stalker. It's Zoro! 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Don’t open, Kitten.

Ignoring the text, you get up swiftly and if you thought relief might stop the tears, it's the exact opposite. You're crying even harder. For a split second your fingers tremble against the doorknob, weighing your options. There's a little voice in the back of your head telling you that Zoro will get hurt because of you, that you'll regret it, but another shout from Zoro keeps your thoughts from spiraling further. 

“Trouble!”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: If you tell him anything about our little secret, I WILL hurt him.

“I'm going to count to three!” Zoro shouts.

Yet he doesn't even get to one. You need to see him. Unlocking all the bolts with shaky fingers, you swing the door open almost all the way, your hand flying to your mouth as you try to stifle a sob. 

“Fucking finally! I've been texting all day, trying to call. I only just got out of work because every time I was about to leave, there seemed to–” Zoro pauses his angry tirade, his eye scanning you from top to bottom, taking in your heaving shoulders, your wet and puffy face, the bags beneath your eyes, and most likely the way your clothes hang looser from lack of sustenance and stress. “The fuck?”

You can't speak. He's all you can think of. A beacon of light, a safety net tethering you back when you were lost in a spiral of fear. 

“Zo…”

He reaches but pulls back instantly, his head cocking to the side as he assesses you. You avoided his touch like the plague last weekend, hell, you've been avoiding him all week. 

You've avoided him for a lifetime, it seems. 

Like a spring, you jump forward, your arms instantly wrapping around his broad torso, and his scent hits you like a truck. He's home. He's safety. He's everything. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, Trouble, I'll take care of it, okay?” When his strong arms envelop you in warmth, you bury your face against his shirt, not caring one bit if you're about to leave snot, drool, and tears all over it. You need to be closer. You need to feel safer. “Did something happen to Shanks?”

You shake your head. Thank God your father is away. If he saw you like this, he would break. Though maybe if your dad were home, you wouldn't even have a stalker… 

Zoro's hand tangles in your hair, settling against your nape as he cradles you closer to him, and you can't stop the tears. You're crying for all you've suffered, for all you've endured, and for what's sure to happen because you're in Zoro's arms, and there’s no way your stalker is going to let you get away with this. 

But just for a bit, just a little bit, you need to revel in him. 

“Then let's talk inside.” Zoro whispers your name, trying to coax you away from him long enough to enter and close the door, but you still cling to him, as if letting go means going back to the nightmare you've been living in. “Hey, I just want to close the door, okay? I'm not leaving.”

He's not leaving? 

You want to tell him to go, that he can't stay with you, that you'll only bring him suffering. Who knows what your stalker is capable of? You can't risk Zoro, you just can't! Before you can stop it, images of Lucci’s face without eyes and the clerk without hands swim in your vision, and you wince. 

But you don't protest. 

You only cling harder. 

Zoro sighs and drags you inside the house, never letting go of you. After closing the door he guides you to the couch probably meaning to sit next to you, but you hold him so tight that he pulls you to his lap. Your legs to the side and arms still wrapped tightly around him. You sense as he lays a soft kiss on the top of your head and then leans his chin where his lips had been. Zoro's hand still runs soothing circles on your back and it's unlikely your sobs are going to slow down anytime soon. 

“You're all right, Trouble. I'm here. I'll never let anything happen to you.”

You're so exhausted and drained that you barely realise you're falling asleep. Until darkness claims you. 

-*-

To say that Zoro's mad is an understatement. He's more than mad, he's furious. 

At first, he was mad at you. For a lot of things, actually. Avoiding him, ghosting him, pretending that what you had - or what was starting to develop - meant nothing to you. But mostly, he was mad at the way you kept ignoring all his calls and texts. That was driving him insane. 

But now… 

Now, he's fucking seething. 

He's going to find out what - or who - has left you in this state, and he's going to make it right. Because there's no way you look like this just because you're tired or because you miss your dad. 

Fucking bullshit. 

You look like a ghost. A starving ghost at that. 

A heavy sigh parts his lips as he runs a hand down his face. One fucking thing at a time. You need to eat. 

After you rest. 

Your breathing evens out after a while, but the way you're clinging to him makes him wait a while longer before moving you. He makes sure you're comfortable on the couch before putting a blanket over you. 

His chest aches at the way your breath hitches as you inhale. Your brows furrow, and your fingers now grasp the blanket instead of his shirt. 

He's seen enough shit in his profession to realise the telltale signs. And it's pretty fucking clear that you're scared of something. 

He's going to find out what. 

As he turns to go to the kitchen and prepare some food for you - even if he has to force-feed you - his eye falls on the garish bouquet of fresh roses on the table. 

“Fuck.” 

Didn't you say the gifts had stopped? He remembers that clearly. Could the flowers be from someone else? 

Zoro approaches and inspects the roses with an analytical eye. They're ordinary. And there's no card. 

No fucking clue. 

Mumbling another string of curses, Zoro rummages around your cabinets, and the action only makes him madder. The bread is stale and mouldy, the vegetables and fruit are withered, and the opened milk in the fridge has gone sour. It looks like you haven’t gone shopping or had a decent meal in days.

Zoro finds an unopened bottle of milk that’s still good and some cereal, so that will have to do for now. He’ll force it down your throat when you wake up, even if you protest. One quick look around the house makes him realise you have all the windows and doors bolted and the curtains drawn. 

He wouldn't find that suspicious any other time, after all, you’re all alone inside a big house. But considering you’re scared witless, this looks mighty suspicious. 

He returns to the living room, giving the bouquet of roses the stink-eye, and sits on the couch next to you. His keen eye not missing the way you shiver slightly, even though he’s covered you with a blanket, or the way your lower lip trembles with each breath. 

Then, his eye falls on the small end table, where your phone rests.

Zoro’s hand twitches, and he lets out a low grunt. That damn phone. You didn’t part with it at Robin’s, and every time you looked at it, you only got more distressed. Should he…?

No, he can’t. It’s your privacy, he can’t intrude. All he can do is be there for you and–

“Fuck it.” Zoro’s hand reaches for the phone as a small whimper escapes your lips. You can be mad at him all you want later. For now, he needs to understand what the hell is making you look like a ghost of yourself. And especially what’s making you push him away.

He takes a deep breath and swipes the screen.

It’s locked. 

Fuck.

Maybe this is a sign that he shouldn’t be doing this? Except, he believes in signs as much as he believes in coincidences. 

He doesn’t.

So, with slow movements, Zoro grabs your hand and places your index finger over the phone. The breath he releases when the phone unlocks is slow and relieved. It feels like he’s about to figure out the reason you’re acting so weird. 

And everything you’re hiding from him. 

His eyes scan up and down as he searches for any suspicious texts. Sure enough, there are his texts and missed calls. You didn’t even read them.

And then…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

What the fuck?

-*-

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the morning, and feel strangely well-rested. It doesn’t take you long to understand why. What hits you first is his strong scent, something you’ve come to associate with safety, and then you realise you’re hugging him.

“Morning, Trouble.” Zoro’s voice is husky, he was probably sleeping too. You blush involuntarily, realising this is what he sounds like in the morning and not minding one bit the thought of waking to this sound every day for the rest of your life.

“Hi. You stayed…”

“Of course I did. Sleep well?” 

Yeah you did. You slept like you haven’t in what feels like forever. The stalker threat is still there, you feel it taunting you in the back of your mind, like an ever-growing presence, but Zoro’s mere presence manages to keep it at bay. 

“I did.”

“Good.” He’s still holding you tight, and you don't make any move to let go either. “I was sleeping on the other couch, when you started to whimper and tremble. I didn’t want you to wake up because it looked like you needed the rest, and you seemed to calm down when I touched you, so…”

He leaves the rest unsaid, and you hold him tighter. God, you really needed him. 

After a while of silence, Zoro starts to shift, so you sit up as well, stretching. 

“You don’t have anything to eat, Trouble. Why haven’t you gone grocery shopping?”

Shit. “Oh, I’ve been postponing it. There’s so much to do around the farm.” Lies, lies, lies. “And there are always eggs from the chickens, I’ll never starve.”

“The food you have has gone bad, or nearly bad. Have you been eating?” Zoro’s eye pierces yours and you pass a hand through your hair to smooth your “bed hair”, as well as to try and deflect his inquiry. 

“I ate a lot of takeout this week. Didn’t really feel like cooking, I’ve just been so tired.” It’s mostly true…

“You told me the gifts stopped.”

Fuck.

“What is this, Zoro? Am I under questioning? Should you take me to the station for this?” You get up with a huff, knowing he’s inching towards the truth fast. 

“I don’t know, should I?” He also gets up, his face turning into a frown. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“Yes, I have!”

“You’re scared shitless.”

Your hands shoot to your hips, and you stamp your feet. “I am–”

“Stop deflecting! Don’t lie to me, damn it! I thought we were friends!” Zoro sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t shut me out.” 

He stares intently at you, his hand reaching to touch you, and you sigh. Of course, he knows something is up. Averting his gaze, you turn and start walking away because you know that if you stay, you’ll tell him everything. And you can’t do that. You already risked a lot just by letting him spend the night. “I really need to use the bathroom now. We’ll talk later.”

He doesn’t stop you, but you still hear his muffled imprecations, and even though you don’t look him in the eye as you grab your phone, you sense him tracing your every move. 

-*-

“Eat.” You took a while in the bathroom, and even though you entered looking more like yourself, you now look scared and pale again. The texts flooded your phone as soon as you closed the bathroom door.

Unknown: Naughty, naughty, naughty. The whole night with the cop? After I warned you? Unknown: Oh, Kitten, you have no idea how absolutely mad I am right now. His arms around what is mine?  Unknown: I told you I didn’t want to hurt the cop, but I don’t think I have another choice now. Unknown: I thought you were going to behave. You’ll need to be punished. 

It kept buzzing, but you didn’t dare to read any more. The more you read his threats, the more scared you would look. And you can’t let Zoro know what’s going on. Not when his safety is at stake.

“I’m not hungry.” You say as you shove the cereal bowl Zoro placed in front of you as soon as you left the bathroom. 

“Eat, Trouble, or I swear I will force it down your throat.” He growls as his hand bangs the table. When you flinch slightly, he sighs and leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hard on you. It’s just…”

Zoro gets up from the seat in front of you, rounds the table, and kneels next to you, touching your legs so you turn to him. As you look at his expression, you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces. He seems so lost.

“I can’t do this anymore. I see you struggling, I can see you’re scared! You’re not yourself. And the fact that you don’t let me in… Trouble…” He places both hands on your legs, his face inches from yours, and you don’t want to pull back. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod slowly. It would be so easy to tell him everything. He’s right, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that. “But what about you?” Your voice sounds small, almost as if you speak in a low volume your stalker won’t be able to listen.

“What about me?” Your hands raise on their own as you cup his face, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on his cheeks as your heart thumps incessantly against your chest. 

“Who’ll protect you, Zo?”

Zoro’s eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head slightly, as if struggling to understand your question. Then he smirks, that mischievous smirk that makes your stomach flutter, and places his hands on top of yours, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t need protection, Trouble.”

How you want to believe him. It would be so simple: someone’s stalking me; I’m being watched; I’m scared.

Any of those sentences could work. Zoro would go full protective mode and never leave you alone. You can do this. You can.

He’s right. He’s strong, and he’s a cop. He doesn’t need protection. He’s Roronoa Zoro.

“I–” But, obviously, it can’t be this simple. As soon as you open your mouth, your phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes again. 

You know it’s him. So you instantly tremble and before you get the chance to grab the phone, Zoro’s hand shoots to your pocket and he fishes it out. Your knees weaken as you gasp.

He’s going to find out everything.

Zoro’s eye falls on the screen of the buzzing phone, and his eyebrow raises again.

Then he sighs and passes you the phone. “Your dad is calling. You should pick it up.”

Zoro gets up as you pick up the phone, not exactly knowing if you should feel relieved, or upset that it wasn’t your stalker. “Hey, Dad!” You try to sound cheerful, but it’s so, so hard. Especially when Zoro’s leaning against the kitchen counter, legs and arms crossed and a scowl on his lips, like he was expecting to see something else on your phone.

“Hi, Bug! What's up?”

You chuckle slightly. “What do you mean? You called. What’s the news?” God, you miss your father.

“I called? No! You called me, Bug.” He chuckles as if you’re spewing nonsense. You’re about to contest because you were in the middle of an important conversation when he called, but then you bite your tongue as your eyes widen in realisation. 

This was the stalker’s doing.

Somehow he orchestrated this call just to interrupt your moment with Zoro. This realisation makes your blood turn cold. What else is he manipulating in your life?

What else can he do?

“When are you coming home, Dad?” You can’t disguise the anxiousness in your voice, and Zoro immediately picks it up. He straightens and starts walking towards you again. 

“Oh, I’m not sure, Bug. I had the trip arranged for Monday, but the business is still going really well! I’m not sure how this is happening, but the fair is already over, and we’re still having meetings with buyers!” 

Is this being orchestrated, too? Just to keep Shanks away? Just so you’re alone?

Your heart thumps harder and harder against your chest as the feeling of being trapped returns tenfold. 

“That’s good.” Your voice is small and timid. All you want to do is tell your dad to rush home. You need this nightmare to be over. But then again, is Shanks being home really going to stop whatever the stalker has planned for you?

You highly doubt it. It will probably just endanger your dad. 

“Got to go, honey. Thank you for calling, I’ll let you know when I’ll be heading home soon, okay?” You mumble in agreement. You didn’t call. And you doubt he’s going to come home any time soon. 

You finish the call, and though Zoro looks like he has a lot more to say, he just tells you to eat, and this time you do. This call was a veiled warning. No talking to Zoro about the stalker. 

No one is safe.

-*-

Zoro doesn’t leave, but you shut down again. He helps you with the chores, and you can see him struggling to hold his tongue back. It’s like he decided to change his approach from outright interrogating you to giving you time and space so you can talk to him when you feel ready to.

Though you know Zoro is not a patient man, so who knows how long this is going to last.

Besides, even though you wish for nothing more than to tell him all that’s going on, are you willing to risk it? With not only Zoro’s safety on the line but clearly your dad’s too?

Your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket, and it takes a bathroom break for you to read the disturbing texts.

Unknown: Don’t you think he’s overstaying his welcome? Unknown: Kitten, things will go very, very wrong if you keep indulging him. Unknown: Tell him to go home, or I’ll make him go. And you won’t like it.  Unknown: I’m losing patience with you. Don’t test me. You KNOW what I’m capable of.

“Zoro.” You’ve finished your morning chores, and Zoro is washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Your heart feels heavy, and you don’t want to do this. “You can go now. I’m going to rest a bit more, maybe do some reading…”

“I’m not leaving.” He simply states. “Nami’s birthday party is later, or have you forgotten? What’s the point in leaving when we’ll just have to meet later? I’ll stick around and help.” He scoffs as he cleans his hands on the dish towel. “I really want to see what excuse you’re going to use next instead of the ‘I’m tired’ one, since I’ve been helping you all day.”

Shit. He really wants to get to the bottom of this, doesn’t he?

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“Nami’s birthday party! Damn it.” It’s a good thing you had already ordered Nami’s gift about a month ago because you didn’t even remember the party was today. Heck, you still haven’t said anything to her, maybe you should call? “We’ll meet there, Zo. There’s no need to stay here.”

“You’re pushing me away again.” He says bluntly, an annoyed expression on his face, and takes a step towards you as if to prove his point. 

You take a step back, shaking your head and hitting the kitchen chair as you do so. With a curse, you keep shaking your head.

Bzzzz. 

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.” Zoro steps forward again, closing the distance. “I’ve tried asking, I’ve tried to give you time. I’m all out of options, Trouble. I thought you trusted me. What’s going on?” Though his voice is gruff and rough, you can perceive the worry hidden underneath. 

You shake your head again, your steps taking you away from him until you hit the counter and stop. “Nothing’s going on. I keep telling you that.”

“Bullshit.” Another step and he’s right in front of you. “Let me in.” He sounds softer now, and you almost crumble. Your fingers twitch as you struggle to keep your hands pressed against your thighs, when all you want to do is hug him. 

“Zo…”

“Just tell me! Whatever it is, I can help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Your hand reaches for your pocket instinctively, but this time, it’s not your phone that’s buzzing.

“Fuck!” Zoro sighs and steps back, reaching for his phone. His brow arches when he sees the caller ID, and he picks up the call. “Cap?”

You can hear the gravelly voice of Captain Mihawk on the other side of the line, but you can’t make out the words he’s saying. 

“A bomb threat? What?” Zoro tenses, his muscles clenching as his eye searches yours, and you can see him struggling. “Yes, I’m busy, damn it.” He sighs again, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m on my way.”

Then, he turns off the call. “Grab a bag, you’re coming with me.”

A gasp stays lodged in your throat. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “What?”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone when you’re clearly scared, even though you don’t want to tell me what it is. You can stay in the car, or I’ll drop you at Nami’s. Come on.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “No.”

Zoro’s face turns away from his cell phone just to stare into your eyes. “Trouble?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not. But you don’t think the bomb threat is a coincidence, and you’re scared that if Zoro takes you away from this house, he will hurt him. And you can’t have that.

“It was not a question. Let’s go.” Although his tone brooks no argument, you can’t heed him. 

“Zoro, you can’t tell me what to do.” Your voice nearly trembles, and you will all your power to stay strong. “We’ll meet later.”

Zoro’s phone buzzes again and he curses at whatever he reads on the screen. “Trouble, come on.” He extends his hand your way and you cross your arms, because all you want to do is take it and never let go. But your phone buzzes once more. 

“We’ll meet later.” You’re supposed to sound assertive, but you just sound afraid.

Zoro takes another step forward, his hand trembling slightly in the air as he waits for you to accept it. He looks at you in disbelief, almost trying to break your will with his look alone.

And damn it, if it isn’t working.

Just take his hand, ask for his help… it would be so easy. Let go…

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

“What?” Zoro answers his phone with an angry growl, and this time you can make out the words Captain Mihawk utters, as they are also angry ones.

“Get your ass in the car and onto the site, Officer Roronoa, now. This is your first and last,verbal warning.”

Zoro turns off the phone as his jaw clenches and unclenches. He strides into the living room, grabbing his jacket and car keys, and then he strides back to you again. “You get dressed and go to Nami. I don’t want you all alone, okay?”

You nod, not wanting to commit verbally to something you already know you’re not going to follow. 

“Trouble…” He sounds so exasperated that your heart constricts further, so you take a step forward, grasping his hand in yours and holding his gaze, completely ignoring the warnings from the buzzing of your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, Zo. We’ll meet later.”

Zoro groans as his phone starts to buzz again, then, without any kind of warning, his hand grips your nape, fingers tangling with strands of your hair, and he pulls you into an unexpected kiss. 

It’s sudden, desperate, and all-consuming. He grunts and you groan, and for a few seconds all you can think about is how perfect his mouth fits against yours.

And then it’s over. 

“Later then.” He says with a raspy voice as he rushes out the door. You’re still feeling light-headed from the abrupt kiss when another buzz rattles your nerves. 

Unknown: If you thought I was mad before, Kitten, you have no idea how furious I am right now. Unknown: You WILL be punished.

-*-

You spend most of the day in a haze of terror. You know it was him who made that bomb threat. So, if he did that, what is he really capable of? He hurt Lucci and the clerk boy, and they meant nothing. What will he do to Zoro?

You don’t even consider your punishment to be anything other than that. That’s where he’ll hurt you most: through Zoro, and you bet he knows it.

After you received the text saying you’d be punished, your phone stayed eerily silent again. 

You take that opportunity to change phones for an older one you still keep around. It’s just an older version, slower, but it still works perfectly.

Even if it only stops the creepy texts, it’s already something. 

You need to find a way to stop him. And the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that you need Zoro’s help. You can’t keep pushing him away. Maybe, if Zoro tells Captain Mihawk of what’s going on, he’ll be safe. 

There’s nothing safer than police protection, right?

So, you’ve made up your mind. You will say something to Zoro, even if it's in writing. You’re done cowering in fear, it’s time to stand up.

-*-

You go to Nami’s early, and you think that changing phones is working because you left the house and no text came through. Your chest feels lighter, and you can even breathe better. Zoro texted a while ago to check in on you, saying he’s fine, but the case is a mess and that he’ll explain later. 

You can’t help but feel like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll finally be free. You just know it. 

“You look better, sweetie!” Nami exclaims after a while. You’ve been smiling, joking, trying to be cheery. It’s her birthday, and you don’t want to be a bummer. The unease in your stomach is still making you queasy, but your terror will soon be over. You know it.

“Zoro kissed me.” You blurt out with a small chuckle, wanting to share a piece of happiness with your friend, almost as if it were meant to restore a sense of normalcy. Then, you sigh and tremble slightly. The stalker texts are still haunting you, even though you decided to fight him. 

“Finally!” Nami exclaims with a laugh. “The pining was getting pathetic.” She hugs you and pats your head. “I’m happy for both of you, I really am!”

It takes another hour before Vivi meets you both at Nami’s house, and you all leave for the restaurant to meet your friends. Then, it takes another fifteen minutes of lively chat inside the car before you reach the location. 

It’s not until you set foot in the restaurant that your phone buzzes. 

You reach for it with a small smile on your lips, thinking it’s Zoro. 

It’s not.

Unknown: You think you can get rid of me just by changing phones, Kitten? You’re really going all out, aren’t you? Playing with your fate… with the cop’s fate… Unknown: It’s okay, Princess. You’ll learn. I’ll make sure of it.  Unknown: You’ll soon find out where you stand and what you get from defying me.

-*-

Zoro calls Nami, saying he won’t make it to dinner, but he’ll meet you all at the club. When she asks if everything’s alright, he assures her it is. They just got delayed. So, after making sure he’s fine, Nami says he’ll have to cover the drinks tab at the bar to make up for missing dinner. 

Zoro ends the call without answering, and the smile that curves your lips is a bit strained now. The longer Zoro’s away from you, the more your resolve falters. You need him near you, that’s the only way for you to be strong. 

You spend dinner in a dichotomy of feelings. You either feel happy and excited to be with your friends or uneasy and stressed because Zoro is still away, and the stalker’s threats loom over your head. 

Even though you haven’t received any more texts after the last one, you can’t help the ominous feeling that he’s letting you enjoy a night of normalcy before he follows through with his threats.

When you all reach the club, your anxiety is through the roof.

The club is packed full, and music reverberates around you so loudly that it makes your chest thump and your ears ring. But Nami seems happy, and it’s her night. The group has a VIP table reserved for Nami’s party because Nami knows everyone, but you doubt the crew will spend much time there. The girls flock to the dance floor, Sanji follows with a silly grin and you offer to go get drinks from the bar for the remaining friends.

Zoro texted ten minutes ago, saying he’s on his way, and you’ve been rehearsing how you’re going to tell him. The music is so loud in here that you’re pretty sure you can talk to him without anyone hearing you. 

This is it. The nightmare is ending. You can wait a few more minutes. You’ve got this.

Reaching the bar with a small smile, you flag the bartender and order an array of drinks for you and your friends. The bar is completely packed, and the music is louder than at the booth you’re all in.

Still, you sense it.

It’s a prickle on your nape. A feeling of being watched creeps over you, and the little hairs on your neck stand up.

You’re still inhaling sharply, your senses on high alert, when you feel him.

He presses against your back, squeezing your front against the counter. His massive form dwarfs your figure as his arm wraps around your own, trapping it against your waist. A huge hand holds your wrist with such force that the bracelet you’re wearing bites into your skin, making you whimper. 

You want to scream, but his other hand wraps around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, he doesn’t need to. The simple gesture is enough to exert his power over you and silence your voice. 

He’s massive. Bulky. Strong.

His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you close your eyes, already feeling tears pricking them. Then, his lips hover over your exposed neck, and he breathes against your ear. A low growl makes his chest vibrate against your back and you stifle a sob.

“Hmm… Kitten. You’ve been such a bad girl.” His coarse goatee hairs rasp your skin, as his voice rings low and velvety smooth. Somehow, it sounds oddly familiar, though you can’t quite place it. 

Your limbs lock as your breath leaves your lungs in heavy gasps. Terror has you frozen in place. You can’t scream, can’t flag anyone to help you. You’re completely at his mercy.

“And you know what happens to bad girls?” His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you know it will bruise. “They get punished.”

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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|Chapter 10|

[star-suh]

Don't Chew More Than You Can Swallow

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: top johnny, pseudo-incest, underwear kink, musk kink, degradation, praising, breeding, hickeys, blowjob, deepthroat, manhandling, implied size kink, snowballing, age gap (yn is 20 and johnny is 25).

an: this is the other idea from @ldrei

also i was lazy to think about names for the mom and the stepfather so yuh.

—

“ok yn, i want you to put on a smile on that face we're almost near the house” yn's mom said while driving towards their new home.

some years ago yn was part of a loving and happy family until one day his father, an honorable police officer, died during a raid against a gang. yn and his mother were devastated, mourning his death for the next couple of months. but life goes on and we have to let go and move on, right? after like a year yn's mother started dating another police officer, months later they made their relationship official and decided to get married, which brings us to the beginning of the story, yn and his mother would move to their new home, where yn's new father and new brother, a 25 years old guy, live already.

“hello we're home” yn's mom greeted, “hey honey” yn's stepdad appeared and kissed her, “hey yn, how are you?”; “i'm good.. thanks” he replied, “glad to know that” the older man said with a smile on his face.

yn walked towards the kitchen searching for a glass to drink some water, “the cups are up there” someone said, yn turned around and there he was his new stepbrother “the name's johnny” he extended his hand and yn grabbed it to shake it, his hand was way bigger than yn's, “i'm yn.. n-nice to meet you” he laughed nervously, “i say the same, see you later then” johnny said winking at him and waving a goodbye.

a couple of months have passed, everything was going good for everyone except for yn. he was thirsting over johnny 24/7, when he walked around the house with just a short on and no underwear because he can clearly see his bulge swing around everytime he walks, his body is to die for ‘god i wish i could lick those abs right now’ thought yn. it was even more harder for yn to not think about johnny fucking him when he was on the room next to him rearranging some woman's insides, the banging sounds going straight to yn's ears, ‘i wish that was me’ he thought. and that's the only thing yn can do, fantasize about him because well… his stepbrother is straight.

johnny sent yn to search something in his room, he did as he was told but something catches his attention, a pair of underwears resting on a pile of clothes. driven by his impulses, he grabbed one and began to sniff it, his face immediately turning red and a bulge growing in his pants "johnny~" he moaned softly.

he went quickly to his room, locked the door and began to jerk off, wrapping the underwear around his cock sliding it up and down while biting a pillow to suppress the moans.

the weeks passed and yn's desire for johnny only increased. every time johnny brought someone home to fuck, while his parents were away, yn always masturbated listening to their moans.

one day yn was masturbating again with his the underwear until a voice interrupted him, "hey yn!" a shirtless johnny called opening the door with a bang "what the hell were you doing? i've been calling you for a while" he asked with a somewhat angry tone. "sorry johnny, what do you want?" yn questioned, "these last few months you have been the one picking the dirty clothes to take them to the laundry room, have you by any chance seen my underwear? they have been missing” he scratches his head. “i have no idea johnny” yn replied with a nervous laugh. “hmm… it's okay” and just like that, johnny left.

worried that johnny would find out, he grabbed all the dirty clothes and ran down to the laundry room. there he turned on the washing machine and placed the underwear there and just when he was going to press the button to start the washing cycle a big hand stopped him, a low and very deep voice whispered in his ear "i thought you didn't know where my fucking underwear was" the warm breath sending shivers down his spine, “you're such a dirty pervert yn” he laugh was deep and sexy.

“j-johnny i-i” yn didn't know what to do, “you thought you were slick with it but no, did you think i didn't notice how you stared at me every time i walked around the house shirtless, how your eyes went from my abs to my bulge, shit i even could feel how you fucked me with your eyes”. johnny positioned himself behind yn, his huge bulge rubbing against yn's ass, "even every night i fucked someone i could hear your slutty moans on the other side of the wall, how you moaned my name was… so sexy... now i kinda want to hear them again" the taller was leaving small kisses on yn's neck, he then took out his huge cock from his shorts and rubbed it on yn's clothed ass “do you want to taste my cock, yn?", his sexy low voice doing things down there on yn's crotch area.

“j-johnny” yn stuttered “i-i'm sorry” a little moan escaping his mouth. “if you want to apologize you have to take responsibility about this” he slams his thick heavy cock against yn's ass again. “y-yes” yn fell to his knees and started kissing the tip, using one hand to stroke the rest of the shaft while the other was stroking his own.

“you're so nasty yn, look at you sucking at your brother's cock. aren't you such a nasty slut huh?” johnny grabs his head and starts to mouthfuck him, forcing yn to deepthroat him, “come on you can do more than that, it's barely halfway in”, little by little yn swallowed it all, johnny locked his head with his arms. the gagging sounds being like music to his ears. “there you go, you're doing so good for me”.

johnny lifted yn and fold him against the washing machine, rubbing the tip of his cock in the other's hole “want me to destroy you, cockwhore?” he says once again using that sexy low voice that drives yn crazy “p-please~ do it”.

johnny was slamming so hard that the washing machine was moving too, yn's legs were shaking due to how good johnny was fucking him, "how does my little fucktoy feel.. is this what you wanted? my thick, heavy cock opening your ass?"; “yes johnny please wreck me” yn replied withiut thinking, “so desperate”.

johnny lifted yn and carried him from the laundry room to his bedroom but without stopping fucking him. the thrusts were slow but as powerful as the harsh ones because he always manages to brush yn's prostate with the tip of his cock, drawing whimpers out of his mouth that made johnny chuckle, ‘so cute’ he thinks.

they're finally on the bedroom, johnny throw yn towards his bed, attacking his neck with kisses and leaving some bruises here and there. his big, tall body towering over yn's. “i have a deal for you” the taller comments, “if you can take me without cumming you'll be my little fucktoy boyfriend. what do you think?” he keeps on kissing yn's body until he reaches the nipples and suck on them. “hngh i really w-want that” the bottom squirmed.

the fat cock went in and out, going in even harder than the last time, johnny's balls slapping against yn's ass “who's being a good cockwhore?” the top asks, “m-... me” yn struggles to answer due to the harsh thrusts “i'm johnny's g-good cockwhore”.

“but you're only mine right?”.

“yeah i'm only yours…”.

both sealed the deal with a gentle kiss, contrasting with the rough thrusts. “fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny growls, he took advantage of the fact that his cock reached so deep inside yn to make him cum, however he let himself be carried away by the moment and filled yn's ass up with that warm sperm.

yn barely managed to hold off his cumming so johnny now has to fulfill the deal they just made. "it seems like i'm your little fucktoy boyfriend now"; "i think so," johnny adds, “and a cute one”.

“you took me so well pretty boy, i think you deserve a threat” and as he said that he went down and started to suck yn's cock “j-johnny you don't have to~”; “mmm mmm, i want to, prince” the sweet name embarrasing yn so much that he covered his face with his arms, feeling the little chuckle the taller let out. with a few more strokes yn came inside johnny's mouth, “shit that's some good blowjob johnny” yn rode his high while johnny crawls up until he is face to face with yn, with one hand he opens the bottom's mouth and spits the sperm in there, then kisses and plays with it between their mouths.

johnny carries yn to the bathroom where they both take a bath, then get dressed and fall asleep in the bed.

“look at them, aren't they cute” yn's mom said watching them both sleeping while hugging, “yeah i think they're gonna be good brothers” the stepdad adds with a huge smile in his face.

[the-kr8tor]

Hi pookie! This is a request for when you're feeling eepy and lazy 😴

We, eepy people, need representation so eepy Reader with Hobie or Ekko (or both). You've planned something with them, maybe a date or a movie night, but you're so tired of the week that you can't stop yawning and feeling drowsy, eyes fluttering close without you knowing 😓 you feel bad because you invited them over! the rest is up to you ml 🫶

love you, take care!

Hi, my love! I chose both of them hehehe I hope you love it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader x Ekko/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader x Ekko

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, CW alcohol mention, established relationship, throuple, spiderverse and arcane crossover, fluff!

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The noise outside fades into the background while the cold of the steps to your flat lulls you to sleep. Your head is propped up by your hands, eyes barely open as you feel the heavy bout of drowsiness flood through you. You're dead on your feet, absolutely knackered from the week. You're just glad that it's all over now that you have a whole night to look forward to with your favourite people.

Suddenly, you feel something warm against your forehead.

“Bang, you'd be dead right now, lovie.” Hobie smirks as you jump awake, making finger guns at you while his other hand is occupied with a savory smelling plastic bag.

“Shit, Hobie!”

“Absolutely no street smarts.” Ekko clicks his tongue beside the punk, in his arms is a fresh baguette and a bottle of wine. You know that was all Ekko's doing until you see three croissants in a paper bag, and you know that Hobie had his hand in the pastries too.

“You guys scared me!” You gasp, hand placed on your chest as you feel the quick heartbeat. “And you two are late.”

Hobie helps you up on your feet with a warm calloused hand, immediately pulling you against him for a quick hug. His chin nudges your jaw, and his leather jacket feels rough yet familiar against your soft jumper. Before he pulls away, he kisses the underside of your jaw, and you feel right at home.

“Sorry, Ko ‘ere wanted to go to the bakery for the fancy shit.” He kneads the back of your neck, and you almost groan at the surprise massage.

“Stop hogging. And I got you your croissants, you big baby.” Ekko rolls his eyes and pulls you by your elbow gently against him. He hugs you tightly whilst he tries not to squish the baguette in between the two of you. All the while Hobie gazes at the two of you with fond eyes, palm splayed over the small of your back. “You okay?” He asks in between kisses on your cheek.

“Yeah, just tired is all.” You hum, eyes closed and lips smiling from his kisses.

Ekko pulls away, brows furrowed at the fatigue in your eyes. “Are you sure about movie night tonight? We can just chill and sleep.”

“Yeah, preferably with you.” Hobie adds with a smirk. You expected for Ekko to smack his arm or roll his eyes, but this time, he nods along with a glimmer in his brown eyes. You guess that they're tired too, you know them too well to not notice the slight weariness of their tones and posture.

They crowd around you, fussing while they stare at you with concern. Their demeanor turns soft for you, more relaxed now that you're in their presence.

“No, we've been planning this for weeks. And Ekko really wants to watch the movie with us— wait, are you guys going to sleep over tonight?” Your eyes shine, grinning from ear to ear. Your drowsiness tucks in the back of your mind for now while they flick their eyes over the other then over to you with a shrug. Their twin smiles say that they planned it all along.

“Well, the movie is three hours long.” Ekko sighs, but you can see through his teasing.

“And Ekko eats too fuckin’ slow.” That earns Hobie a small smack on his chest.

You bite your lip, smiling through it as you now notice the bags next to their feet. “So you're telling me that I've got you two until tomorrow morning?”

They simultaneously glance at the backpacks.

“Nah, we've got you, love. Try the whole weekend—”

“Maybe.” Ekko looks at Hobie with a scrunch of his nose. “We said we were going to tell her at the same time, Hobs.”

“I can't help it!” Hobie defends himself while you half hug Ekko as compensation from the ruined surprise. “It’s alright if we stay over right, love? We're all on holiday.”

You're quick to nod, “You two can stay forever if you want.”

Ekko chuckles and squeezes you. “We already have a drawer with our things in it. So forever is still on the table.”

“You've got three sets of dinnerware for a reason.” Hobie gives you his signature smile.

Hopping off of Ekko's side, you grab their backpacks, slinging m on each shoulder and then taking each of their hands in yours. As you lead them up the steps with a giant smile on your lips. “What are we waiting for? Let's go then!”

—

The dinner was full of laughter and giggles, moreso the preparation for it. Ekko helped make the garlic bread, cut the baguette into even parts, and made the garlic spread from scratch. He even toasted it to perfection while Hobie cooked pasta to pair with the bread and wine. You'd be sitting pretty on the counter if you didn't manage to talk them into letting your tired self from helping. Your kitchen is a mess, pasta sauce on the stove, bread crumbs all over the counter. And plates still submerged in the sink. You dragged them out of the kitchen just before they could even wash a single spoon, telling them that the mess is now future yous problem. To your delight, they indulge your whims and park themselves next to you.

With soft pajamas on, and with the two in their own sleep clothes, the fluffy blanket draped on the three of you is the cherry on top. You're sitting comfortably in between them. Too comfortable as the sound of the telly slowly falls in the background while your eyes droop. Their warmths radiating off of them and their scents aren't helping your sleep deprived self from staying awake. You fight the hundreth yawn from escaping.

Hobie's arm is draped behind you, palm resting on Ekko's side while he cuddles against you. Ekko's breath fans your cheek, arm enveloping your front while the other slithers behind you and kneads the back of Hobie's neck. The three of you are a mess of limbs, heads placed on each of your shoulders, and legs weaved around your own. You're stuck in between them, and you don't mind it one bit.

The screen shows a scene of space while the trapped astronauts run for their lives from a terrifying alien. Glancing at Ekko's face, the movie has his full attention as his breath hitches when an astronaut’s arm gets caught in the door.

And when you gaze at the side of Hobie's profile, he's deeply into the movie as he hugs you tighter, hand bunching up your sleep shirt when an astronaut desperately helps their bleeding friend. You smile sleepily at them, feeling happy and content in their arms.

Hobie, feeling your gaze, looks at you and a soft smile immediately spreads across his pierced lips. “The movie's right in front of you, love. It's not in my eyes.”

“Then why am I getting lost in them?”

Hobie chuckles quietly to not disturb Ekko. He nudges the tip of your nose with his own, lips brushing on top of yours gently. “You can sleep ‘ere if you want. Ekko will carry you to bed.”

“Ekko and not you?” You raise a teasing brow at him.

“‘m sleepy too, y’know.”

“I heard my name.” Ekko pauses the movie as he looks over you to Hobie. “And he's right, you can sleep here and we'll get you to bed, don't worry.”

“I know, but you wanted to watch this movie with us. I'd hate it if I fell asleep when I'm the one who invited you two.” You hold their hands, and their fingers immediately wrap around your own.

Ekko can't help but smile and peck your forehead sweetly. “I rented this movie and a whole bunch of others for the whole weekend. We've got plenty of time to get through them, besides, we love taking care of you.”

Hobie nods in agreement, “Don't feel bad for sleepin’, love. It's still considered hangin’ out with us.”

With a smile, you kiss Hobie's lips and then Ekko's with a resounding smack. “Have I told you both how much I love you?”

“It wouldn't hurt to say it again.” Ekko chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. And Hobie smooches your cheek, feeling his smile through it.

“Well, I love you both.” You say, eyes watery and heavy as you yawn and succumb to sleep.

They lopsidedly smile at you and move impossibly closer to you. Hobie tucks the blanket under your chin, and Ekko lowers the volume of the telly.

You weren't surprised one bit when you wake up in the morning to their sleeping faces while their limbs are tangled around your own.

Banners by @/cafekitsune

[missmeinyourbones]

HOOKED ON HER FLESH

cw: afab!reader, fingering, pussy job, penetrative sex, pet names used (pretty girl, baby, etc), suckin and fuckin in the bath, raw fucking but this is not real so practice safe sex my friends

The click of the front door is dull, and Rintaro can feel the burn in his calves when he bends down to place his gym bag beside the few pairs of tossed shoes by the entryway.

If you were on the couch like he'd half expected you to be, you'd scold him for leaving it there knowing one of you always trips over it. But you're not.

It's late, almost 11 PM when he returns home from a long day of training. The apartment is dim and oddly still when he weakly calls out to address his presence. With still no answer, he makes his way down the dark hallway with nothing but the kitchen light illuminating the space.

The second place he checks is the bedroom.

Weirdly enough, you're not there either. But before he even gets the opportunity to worry, he spots an outline of light shining through the closed bathroom door in his peripheral.

Quietly entering the bathroom, he's not all that surprised to find you sponging in the water, eyes closed and hair carelessly clipped up.

You're not asleep—he can tell by your breathing. He notes the glass of red slightly sipped on as it balances on the back ledge of the toilet.

He leans against the door frame, admiring you while he can before you shy away and refuse to let him. It's somewhat muggy in the room from the steam, and he gathers that you've been marinating for a while based on the drops of sweat beading in your supple creases and cleavage.

When the nippy draft of the open door finally makes its way to you, you crack your eyes open and jump a bit at the unexpected figure in the doorway.

Your face cushions a bit when you realize it's him, "God, you scared me. When did you get home?"

"Just now," he placates, making his way over to kneel beside you at the edge of the tub. That singeing ache returns in his calves, but he doesn't seem to care when he's this close to you, counting the steam droplets adorning your cheeks and eyelashes.

You're heavy with sleep when you reach for him, "How was practice?"

He hums in acknowledgment, letting his thumb trace your jaw in a gentle touch.

"Nothin' special," he shakes his head before smiling a bit at your drowsy murmurs. "Tired, baby?"

You nod along against his hand, "A little, yeah."

Opening your eyes, you admire your lover; he's tired too, the subtle lines of worry and fatigue marking his handsome face. Your eyes flicker to his blunt bangs, damp and sticking to his forehead.

Your fingers find them easily, brushing them off of his eyebrows and causing him to crinkle his nose. "You already showered?"

"Yeah," it's his turn to close his eyes. "Took a quick one before I left. Figured it was easier."

You seem pleased with his answer as you relax further into the water. "Good, 'cause I really didn't wanna have to get out."

He shakes his head in amusement, fingertips gently caressing your eyebrows and lids when he asks, "Why're you even in here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You only take baths if you're like, stressed or something."

"Not really stressed," you breathe, though the sigh entwined in your words betrays your point, "just wanted to relax a bit. Feel like I've been a bit wound up these past few days."

Rintaro nods but bites his tongue. His mind filters through the handful of times you've been a bit snippy with him this week. When he forgot to take out the trash and you called him annoying. When his shower went on just a few minutes too long, leaving the hot water merely lukewarm and you cursing at him. Just this morning, when the two of you were buzzing around the kitchen preparing for your days—he used the last of the milk in his coffee and didn't write it down on the grocery list, resulting in a glare from you and a passive-aggressive nudge towards the notepad on the counter.

As if noting the gears turning in his head, you whisper above the sound of water gently sloshing beneath you as you readjust your legs over the side of the tub.

"I'm sorry I've been kind of a bitch."

Rintaro chuckles and it sounds like love. His tone is light and airy when he squeezes your hand in solidarity, "I like you a little bitchy."

You roll your eyes, though both of you know it's harmless, and a warming silence comfortably overtakes your tiny apartment bathroom.

Rintaro thinks he's subtle, and maybe he is to anyone who isn't you, but you know him, and you know that his tender touches trailing from your hand to your leg are filled with both love and something a bit more desperate.

"So," his hand slowly caresses your damp leg as it dangles outside of the water, "wound up, huh?"

A glare is sent his way but the smiling pulling at your lips encourages him.

"Can I help?" His thumb applies some pressure to your calf, rubbing slow circles to the tender muscle and ears perking up at your soft sighs.

"You don't have to, you're probably tired and—”

He interrupts your weak restraint with a rough whisper against your cold ankle, "I'm never too tired to make you cum, let's get that straight."

He hears you kiss your teeth as his vulgarity, "I'm just saying, I'm okay."

And Rintaro does what he does best, and doesn't take no for an answer.

"Well, what if I want to?" he purrs against your skin, "What about my needs?"

"Your needs of making me cum?" you scoff behind a smirk.

"Exactly."

Sitting up a bit to better see you, he prompts you to uncross your legs with a gentle pry of his hand. You obey and spread yourself against the front of the bath, heels against the sides of the cold ceramic as he slips a sluggish hand between your thighs.

He can feel the slick already forming submerged in the water as he teases an experimental finger through your folds. Taking his sweet time, he brings his thumb to brush against your untouched clit, and grins like a wolf when you whimper and jolt at the slight friction.

You hear Rintaro laugh through his nose. "Yeah, you're okay?" he smugly prompts.

You close your eyes at the feeling, too needy to care about his mocking, "Shut up."

You can't see his smirk but you know it's there all the same. He plays with you without any urgency, mindlessly enjoying rolling your nub between his pointer and thumb, greedily inhaling each and every one of your gasps and mewls.

Once he's pleased with his mess of you, he allows a fingertip to just barely dip inside of your heat. Painfully slow and deliberate, he lets it barely sink into you before it pulls itself out, repeating the movement slowly.

He's fucking with you openly, giving you a sinful taste of the feeling you're addicted to without any actual benefits of it. You know he wants you to break, and you can't even bring yourself to put up a fight with your dwindling restraint slipping through your pruney fingers.

With a prod of his finger that goes just slightly deeper than the rest, you whine in frustration and reach for his arm.

"Rin," your hand wraps around his flexed bicep, to both steady yourself and prompt him to do more.

He ignores your pleas, continuing to give you just enough to squirm and thrash at his repeated actions. He knows your lack of patience at his hand—if he hadn't made you so greedy, you'd just take what he gives you.

But Rintaro learned long ago that he's a weak man when it comes to you. He's always going to give you exactly what you want—he's just going to be annoying about it first.

He lets it continue for a bit longer before you finally whine and dig your nails into his bicep.

"Stop—fucking doing that…need—” your words falter into tiny little whimpers as he continues a steady pulse on your clit.

"Need?" his eyebrows raise in a delight that mimics the devil.

You go to close your legs in instinct, but Rintaro's free hand uses its palm to hold you open. The still water in the bath splashes against your movements as your chest heaves with a need that he's not even close to giving you.

Somewhere between mocking and comforting, he tuts and coos at your frustration. His fingers stay steady as he kisses your neck, licking the sweat mixed with citrus-scented salt from your relaxation.

He taunts, "Gotta use your words, pretty."

"Need you," crawls pathetically from your throat, "you asshole."

Rintaro smiles, baring fangs you're not one hundred percent sure are actually there or not. For once, he says nothing as he finally sinks a full finger into your eager cunt.

You gasp at the pressure and he follows suit, almost mimicking your hiccups and whimpers as if he too feels what you feel. With every exhale of yours, he's unashamed in inhaling the sweet sounds, trying to savor them by tasting them for his own.

One finger turns to two, and time doesn't exist as you're rocking against his palm and losing yourself between the splashing water and his mouth on your neck.

"Look at you," he presses kisses anywhere he can, "my pretty baby."

I'm—fuck," your legs try to jostle shut again but they're unsuccessful as Rintaro continues his pace.

"It's okay," he sweetly mocks your shaky attempts to reach your high. His teeth move to sink into the outside of your thigh when he tells you, "Just relax for me."

Feeling you clench around him in a manner that's far too familiar, he changes his movements in a way he knows gets you there every time. Curling his fingertips upwards and lingering a bit too long against that spongey ribbed spot inside of you, you nearly jump out of the water at the harsh sensation.

Suna laughs, holding you down as your nails sink into his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself.

He continues against your feeble tries, mentally checking all of the boxes for when he knows you're about to lose it. When you get to the babbling nonsense and begging for quite literally nothing stage, he decides it's time.

A gentle kiss prods against your temple, "Talk to me, pretty."

"Feels good—so fucking good, I—” Your back arches and flexes against the water, desperately trying to reach your approaching high.

"You gonna cum for me?" he breathes through a smile.

You can't speak, nodding furiously and mindlessly as you feel yourself reach your peak. The churning inside of you unravels like a wave, and you can feel your hips bucking themselves upwards without meaning to for the sake of release.

Your lover doesn't let up, rubbing and curling and cooing you through your high. You don't even hear him, can barely feel him anymore as he milks you for all he can before giving you a break and moving his loving touches to your legs and neck.

"Feelin' good?" he's out of breath from watching you perform for him.

Between how tired you were before, let alone how hard he'd just fucked you on his fingers, he expects you to be spent. He's undeniably hard—only human, after all—but with the way your eyes can barely stay open, he mentally plans to get you settled in bed before leaving himself quickly and joining you.

But he's never been more willing to be wrong when you whisper against his bicep, planting wet and messy kisses across his skin in an attempt (as if one was even needed) to persuade him.

He can feel you beam against his skin when you mewl and pant, "Think I need the real thing now."

"The real thing?" his voice octaves in a condescending sweetness.

You're pulling at his cloth-covered torso when you groan, "You know what I mean."

"That wasn't real? You left fucking crescents on my wrist—”

"Rin," you cut him off with a groan, looking up at him all teary and needy and so fucking pretty he thinks he could cry. "Please?"

You watch his chest inflate with a sharp inhale as his eyes rake over your malleable form. His tongue skims his canine when he chuckles and shakes his head.

"Fuck you."

He's undressed and on top of you in the water within seconds.

"Condom?" he heaves into your neck, practically swallowing you whole between breathy groans.

He feels you shake your head and he kisses his teeth in aggravation. "What'd I say about words, baby?"

"No," you nearly hiss, before following it up with a velvety, "just wanna feel you this time, please."

Rintaro groans into your chest and subconsciously bucks his hips against you, "Fuck, okay. Okay, baby."

He takes his time when lining himself up with you, letting his pink tip acquaint itself with your puffy folds like it's the first time. He feels a pull inside of him that egnites when he realizes, it's not the first time, and over his dead body will there ever be a last.

He watches beneath the water as his pre-cum smears itself all over your pussy, sticky and webbed as it dissolves under the water. He flicks himself across your clit, tapping heavily against you when you softly cry at the sensitivity. He lets out sounds of amusement at your feeble protests.

"Don't—” you hiccup as he runs his shaft between your folds, "—be a dick."

"Shut up," he quickly kisses your lips, "I got you—"

As he breathes, he unhurriedly sinks himself into you, relishing in the way you both inhale one another at the stretch. Breathing in one another's gasps and shivers, he lets himself ease in and out of you until he's completely bottomed out and pressing his weight onto your abdomen to hear you shiver.

It's all sweaty kisses and desperate licks as you meet his movements, pulling as he pushes and taking everything one another can offer. And it is everything—you'd never give anything less.

You can tell he's slowly losing his composure, but he does a good job of keeping up with his long and intentional strokes. He means to leave no inch of you untouched, wants you to remember the feeling every time he's away and you find your hand snaking its way between your legs.

"I love you," falls from your lips like the wine you neglected from the untouched glass that sits a few feet from you. And Rintaro swallows it greedily, tastes its rich red and white and pink before spewing it right back for you to keep as your own.

His thrusts become more sloppy and frantic as he feels himself reaching the brink of his climax. "I love you, shit—love you, I love you."

He comes in bursts of heat and desperation, and with a few more needy strokes and circles on your clit, you follow suit behind him. Spent and sticky with cramping limbs in your tiny tub, Rintaro coddles you through shaky whimpers and sore muscles.

"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes between kisses, to you or himself, he doesn't think he'll ever know the difference. "My baby."

Touches turn lazy and tender, and breathing is now slow and steady when Rintaro adjusts himself with a groan and sits upwards. He reaches for your unattended wine glass, taking a strong swig and raising his eyebrows in jest when you roll your eyes and laugh at him.

He then holds it to your lips, gently leaning your jaw back as you take a sip of your own. You swear that his eyes have stars in them, and while you don't know it, yours gape the same right back at him.

Sinking into the water on the opposite end of the cramped bathtub, he grabs your leg and hooks it upon his shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss to your ankle before letting his head loll to the side.

"This water's fucking freezing now," he mumbles, eyes closed.

But his spirits lift when he hears you giggle at his declaration, opening his eyes and smiling behind a scowl to catch you lazily tossing your head back in amusement.

"It was nice before you got in," you shrug, rubbing your ankle against his ear just to watch him whine at the motion, "so it must just be you."

Rintaro hums in faux agreement, turning to weakly gnaw on your calf before kissing the crescents indented from his front teeth.

"Keep it up and I'll keep your pruney ass right here all night."

[jetblack4realz]

beautiful - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary - growing up as bradley's best friend and ride or die, then going to college and suddenly realizing it's more than that

warnings - don't think so

word count - 1.8k, just a cute little guy

______________________________________________________________

you couldn't remember a time that you weren't with bradley bradshaw. you had grown up by his side, from kindergarten to now sophomore year of college, you had been his wingman. and he was yours.

you had the same friend group, all of whom dated each other, which left you and bradley to do your own thing which was fine. everyone expected y'all to get together eventually, but when freshman year came to a close they all lost that hope.

until now.

it was well known by your friends that harrison ralph was the biggest douchebag UVA had ever seen. bradley knew that, carlie knew that, georgie knew that, and so did beckham and lara. but you, well, let's just call you optimistic.

harrison had approached you at a frat party a few weeks into the senior year, catching your attention quickly with some pretty words and an even prettier smile. with his arm leaned against the wall behind you, he was getting close, and bradley was getting pissed.

"y/n!" he called with an exaggerated smile, reaching forward and grabbing your hand. harrison leaned away, eying bradley as if trying to size him up. georgie laughed at the scene, knowing that 5'10", 160lbs harrison stood no chance against 6'3", 200lbs bradley bradshaw, even though his attitude sure made up for some of it.

"bradshaw," harrison hummed. "what do we owe the pleasure?"

bradley didn't look at the boy, instead directing his attention to you. "lara and carlie want to go get food."

it wasn't an invitation, nor was it a question of whether or not the two of you would be attending. you were going to leave with him or he wasn't leaving you.

"are they drunk?" you asked. when bradley nodded his head, you sighed. "where's the nearest arby's?"

"you're not seriously leaving, are you?" harrison asked, grabbing your arm as you stepped towards bradley.

"sorry, i've gotta take care of some friends. i'll see you around," you said with a polite smile, letting bradley pull you away. harrison reached forward, grabbing your other hand with a firm grasp.

"text me, ok? i'll wait up for you," he said, winking quickly.

"well, don't," was bradley's sharp response. he dragged you back to the group who had already left to get in their cars. a text buzzed on your phone in your back pocket as you pulled the door open to bradley's bronco, and as you fished it out to read the text, your brows knitted closely together.

"lara said she's going back to beckham's," you said loud enough for bradley to hear on the other side of the truck. "and georgie's dropping carlie off at the dorm."

so you hadn't seen the boys dragging their girlfriends off with smirks and winks thrown in bradley's direction? probably a good thing.

"let's just go home then," bradley shrugged as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"well, maybe i can go back-"

"let's go home," he said again, slowly with his eyebrows knitted. "you don't need to see that harrison douchebag."

"well, i don't wanna go back to the dorm to carlie and georgie banging again," you sighed, hopping into your usual passenger seat and shutting the door next to you. "i think a third round of bleach will officially ruin my eyesight."

"just come back to my place," he shrugged, turning the truck on and beginning to pull out of the small space he'd managed to parallel park into earlier that evening.

you didn't answer immediately, instead staring down at your shut off phone.

"do you think harrison meant what he did?"

"what?" he asked quickly, glancing over at you as he continued to drive down the backroads of charlottesville to his apartment.

"i mean... guys like him don't look at girls like me like he did. and they certainly don't tell them they're waiting up for their text."

"sweetheart, i think he's waiting up for something else," bradley told you with a sigh. "and he meant it. he damn sure meant it."

"are you sure?"

"he seemed pretty interested. dunno why he wouldn't be."

"i don't know why he would be."

"what are you on about?" he asked, glancing at you again as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. it was dark, only lit by two streetlamps on complete opposite sides of each other, and you could barely see the walkway into the complex. not that it mattered - you both knew the place like the back of your hand. he parked as you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"guys aren't interested in me. ever. it's just unbelievable."

"except it's entirely believable. do you know how many guys i've seen check you out over the years? for starters, before they met carlie and lara, georgie and beckham were obsessed with you."

"no they weren't," you laughed, shaking your head.

"they were, i swear!" he said, a smile pulling at his lips as he watched you smile too. "they were sixteen year old boys with functioning eyes, of course they were obsessed with a beautiful girl like you."

"i may be pretty cute now, but i definitely wasn't a looker then," you laughed, recalling the awkward stage of high school.

"oh trust me, you were and still are insanely beautiful, sweetheart. nearly every guy on the football team asked me to give them your number and they always wanted to know if you'd been asked to homecoming or prom or whatever yet."

"they asked you for my number and you didn't give it to them?" you asked with a dramatic gasp and wide eyes.

"oh hell no! you were mine and mine alone, i definitely wasn't willing to share you with the meatheads that were the bedford high football team."

"i was yours?" you asked curiously, turning completely to face him with a smirk pulling at one side of your mouth.

"my best friend, i mean," he corrected quickly, grinning your way.

"mhmm, we'll go with that for now," you hummed, laughing as he looked at you incredulously.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"but moving on - why didn't you tell me all of this before? because i've been convinced that i like always have something in my teeth or something the way some of these guys look at me, because it's not flattering and doesn't seem anywhere near that they'd wanna kiss me."

"darlin', they're staring lower than your teeth and they're hoping for more than just a kiss, let me tell you that," bradley informed you with a frown. "guys are prudes and jackasses and that's why i never told you. ain't any of 'em that i thought were good enough for you."

"is that why you dragged me out of that party?" you asked. he furrowed his brows, but you just smiled and laughed. "i know the girls didn't wanna get food, you just needed an excuse to pull me away from harrison ralph."

"that's cause he's also a douche," he nodded. "ain't no way in hell you're spending a night with him."

"but he's a cute douche," you sighed, laying over on the middle seat between you and bradley dramatically. "i haven't been on a date in months, brad. it's like suddenly every single guy in virginia has gone off girls."

"it's because they're intimidated," he answered softly, messing with the splayed out ends of your hair as you looked up at him. "you're beautiful, crazy smart, naturally talented at everything you do, super ambitious and driven - they know you're out of their league."

"i wish they'd just try. i feel like they've all given up on me or something." you sounded defeated, because you were. bradley hated to hear it, leaning back in his seat as you grabbed his hand, messing with his callouses as he worked up the courage to say what was on his mind.

apparently, he took too long and you were sitting up and sliding out of the car. he followed quickly, locking the bronco and coming to your side as you pulled a hand through your hair, the other arm crossed over your chest and the other quick to join it.

"what's going on?" he asked. "what is this really about?"

you continued walking, your eyes on bradley's door just down the outdoor hall as you sighed. "i got into flight school today."

"what? that's awesome, congratulations," he told you with a smile.

"yeah, well, i'm not even gonna go, so it's all pointless," you said, lips a straight line and a small crease between your brows slowly forming.

"why? what's wrong, why can't you go?" he asked.

"my mom was pissed enough as is that i came here and if she learns that i'm graduating just to not come home and instead go to flight school - she's gonna flip, she's not gonna let me go."

"what do you mean? you're an adult, y/n, she doesn't get to tell you what to do anymore."

"no, but she can guilt me into going into business with her. she's got the bakery and she needs me to run the business side of it. it's why i got my marketing degree-"

"you got your marketing degree because you needed something to do while figuring out what you really want. and you want to fly. we've talked about being in the navy for years together, frankly i was surprised you said you were going to college even before my papers got pulled."

"well, mom needed help and-"

"and she can hire some. you get to choose what to do with your life, y/n," he told you. "you're like, this crazy brilliant girl who's been surrounded with people who tell you that you can't do anything your whole life and they just need to get out of your head; your mom, teachers, idiot guys, all of 'em."

"that's hard," you laughed dryly.

"well, let me tell you this then," he said as you came to a stop in front of his door. "you are amazing, y/n. in every way possible and there's not enough words to describe it. and-" he hyped himself up, taking a quick breath "-i haven't given up on you. you're everything to me."

you were smiling, like big, and that was all the clearance bradley needed to lean in and press his lips to yours. even though you were a little surprised, you kiss him back, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. he pulled away after several moments, breathing deeply and looking down at you with a smile.

"you're everything to me too," you mumbled, returning his smile. he kissed you again, shorter this time, and softer too.

"i'm really, really glad to hear that," he said.

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you reluctantly unwinded yourself from the boy in front of you, pulling your phone out to read the text.

hey beautiful, can i come over??

"i'd rather i be the only one to call you beautiful, beautiful," bradley said after reading it upside down. you clicked on the contact, scrolling down and clicking the red 'block contact' text. it disappeared from the screen and you grinned up at him.

"i think i'd be okay with that."

[w2soneshots]

Chose one -W2S

words: 1.4k+

warnings: light angst, sex references.

summary: when both Harry and Chris fall for you, you realise you’re going to have to choose one.

notes: omg I actually wrote something that’s not a request🤭. my fics have been super short lately so here’s an extra long one to make up for it✨. I hope you enjoy my lovelies!💓🫶🏼

Liked by bambinobecky, wroetoshaw and 781,045 others

y/username: life's to short to wear boring clothes💓

-comments-

taliamar: marry me.

-> y/username: 👰‍♀️

chrismd: 🔥🔥

faithloisak: you look gorgeous!!

y/nfanpage21: I need that dress omg

user51209835: not Chris thirsting over y/n😭

I've been friends with Harry for years. We met through my best friend Talia, at one of her birthday parties. That's also where I met the rest of the boys. We became friends and they began inviting me on nights out, parties and other events. I formed a separate connection with them all. Tobi, JJ, Ethan and Josh are like my older brothers. Simon's my best friend's boyfriend. Vik was a little awkward at the beginning but now I have the most interesting conversations with him. Me and Harry immediately hit it off. He was also awkward but I managed to pull him out of his shell, I get his humour and he gets mine. We just click.

I also met Chris through the boys. I found him hilarious and I loved the all the witty little comments he made. We became good friends after our first meeting and I now text him regularly. Recently I was having a conversation with Talia, over the phone. When she brought up the comment that Chris left on my most recent instagram post. I wasn't sure what to say. "He definitely likes you y/n!" She stated. My eyes widened. "No- no way." I stumbled on my words. "You don't like him?" "I- I'm not sure. I've never thought of him that way."

After that day I felt strange. I didn't know what to say to Chris. I also hadn't spoken to Harry in a few days. But I will see them both today at the party Tobi's hosting at his apartment. I began getting ready at five. I took a long shower, blow dried then styled my hair, applied some makeup and finally finished with my outfit. I had sent a text to the girls to ask what they were wearing so I chose my outfit around that.

Liked by taliamar, chrismd and 610,357 others

y/username: 🐆

-comments-

wroetoshaw: woah

freyanightingale: omfg the jacket💘

faithloisak: unbelievable🤤🤤

-> behzingagram: slow down there buddy

y/nfanpage21: her style changes every week, girl can do both

user91470263: are both Harry & Chris in love with y/n?🤨

I arrived at Tobi's apartment by seven. I rang the doorbell. "Hey! Come in." Tobi greeted me after he opened the door. We shared a quick hug then headed to where everyone else was. Not everyone had arrived yet but Talia had so I quickly went to say hello. "Hi babe! You look hot as fuck." She excitedly hugged me. "So do you. Is that the dress you bought last week?" I asked. "Yeah! I'm glad we were dressing up so I had an excuse to wear it."

Once the party got going and everyone arrived, most of us began drinking. I got really tipsy very quickly. I went off to the bathroom to clean myself up and take a deep breath. Just as I was leaving I banged straight into someone. My head banged back onto the wall. "Ow. Fuck." I clutched the back of my skull. "I'm so sorry. Are you ok? y/n?" A voice rambled. "Hmm," I opened my eyes. A very concerned looking Harry stood before me. "Oh. I'm fine. Don't sweat it." I hurried back into the living room.

"You alright?" Faith asked. "Mhm." I hummed. "You just seem a little... tense." I sighed. "Can we go into the kitchen? I need to ask you about something." I whispered to her. "Of course, let's go." She replied, standing from the couch. We slipped out of the room. I stood with my back leaning against the marble counter. "I've been feeling weird lately," I began, my drunkenness about to make me spill all of my secrets.

"I think I like Harry. Like more than a friend," Her eyes widened. "But I was speaking to T the other day and she said that she thinks Chris likes me. I'm just really confused." I sighed as an imaginary weight lifted from my shoulders, from the confession. "Well, do you feel for Chris like you feel for Harry?" She asked. My eyes fluttered closed. "I don't think so. I think he's... nice looking but I don't like him." "Well there's your answer."

I decided that I was just going to get absolutely pissed so I wouldn't have to deal with anything tonight (that was a mistake). Once me and Faith rejoined the group we all decided to play 'never have I ever'. I sat between Faith and JJ. "Okay! I'll start," Freya announced. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping." Freya, Josh and JJ drank. "What?! You're all boring man." JJ shouted. Ethan went next. "Never have I ever had sex in a car." JJ, Faith, Ethan, Harry, Chris and myself drank. When I put my glass down I noticed two faces looking at me, Harry and Chris. I quickly looked away.

After a few more rounds with nothing that interesting it was my turn. "Never have I ever had a crush on my friend." I blurted out. My face dropped. I looked to Faith. She was just as shocked. "I- I think that's my cue to go home." I pushed myself from the couch. I turned to looked at Tobi. "Thanks for a great night." I smiled then made a be line for the front door.

As I waited for my taxi to arrive it began to rain. "For fuck sake." I whispered under my breath. "Here." I heard from behind me. I jumped then turned to see who it was. Harry stood there with his jacket in his hand, gesturing for me to take it. I smiled lightly then took it. Covering my hair from the rain. We stood there in silence, the only sound being made by the heavy downpour of rain. Harry's shirt began to stick to his body as it became increasingly more soaked. I stepped towards him. Attempting to cover the both of us with his coat. He unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. I leaned into his touch.

"I drank." He said breaking the silence. "What?" I replied quietly, confused. "Your question. About having a crush on your friend. I drank." He explained. My heart rate began to speed up. "Oh, who?" I asked nervously. "You." He whispered. My face dropped. I looked up at him, slightly breaking our hug. "Really? You- you like me?" I thought I was hearing things. He nodded. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, I just needed to tell you." "I do feel the same Harry." I leaned into him. Our lips inches apart. My taxi pulled up. I stepped away, passing his coat back. "Sorry." I mouthed as I slid into the car.

The next day I woke with an awful hangover and a bucket of guilt. I needed to speak to Chris. I can't pursue anything with Harry until I tell him about my lack of feelings. Later in the day I decided to text him. He agreed to come to my apartment. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. I opened it with a smile then let him inside. "Listen Chris-" I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't even know for sure if he liked me. "It's ok. We don't have to make this awkward. I liked you but I know you and Harry are- you know, so don't worry about it. I'll back off." He said politely. I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. And I'm sorry." "Nothing to be sorry about. Let's just stay friends, yeah?" I nodded. "Yeah."

A few days later I turned up to Harry's apartment. I hesitated to knock. Then I took a deep breath and lifted my fist to the door. I waited almost a minute before the door opened. Harry stared at me. "Uhm, hi." I smiled softly. "Hey. What are you doing here?" He asked. "I um- I wanted to apologise for the other day. I shouldn't have left like that." I began. We stared into each other's eyes, neither saying a word. He stepped closer, so close in fact that I could feel his breath on my lips. "Can I kiss you?" He asked in a hushed tone. "Yes." I whispered. He closed the gap slowly. My hands moved to his shoulders. His traveled slowly down to my waist as we shared a sweet kiss.