#if i speak............................... need her

[nephyria]

I see a lot of people bringing attention to Sam Nordquist's murder, and the fundraiser for his funeral. What he went through was horrible, and I wish he'd experienced this kind of support in life as well. Thank you to the community and our allies for speaking up for him.

Around the same time the news about his murder was breaking, a Black trans woman was also murdered in my neck of the woods. Her name was Tahiry Broom. Her family says she loved making people laugh, that she was full of energy and confidence. She was only 29. (UPDATE on this link: In the original article linked in the most popular version of this post, her identity as a trans woman was edited to a much more transphobic phrasing a day or two afterwards. The new link contains all the previous information, correct phrasing, and updated info.)

Her murderer called 33 sex workers, several of whom were also trans women. He had no money on him. He intended to rob and/or kill at least one woman that day, who he felt society wouldn't rally for or miss. She was just the woman who fell into that category, for him.

Please donate to the GoFundMe organized by her aunt, Patricia Bender. Tahiry deserved so much better. She deserved a full life. Her family is trying to make sure she's surrounded by love in death. From the date of this post (Feb. 18, 2025), it's 4 days until her service (Feb. 22, 2025).

[lologoinsolo]

Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[smileysuh]

apartment complex

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader I ft. Haechan & Jaehyun

🔮 preview. So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pent-up sexual tension, shower sex, masturbation, fingering, hand job, thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, breast worship/nipple play, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, size kink (Johnny is big and a slight manhandler), mentions of aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) 304, baby, princess. 

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k

🍭 aus. Love square, slice of life, neighbours to lovers, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. So when Johnny calls her the nickname ‘304,’ we’re not doing full numbers, it’s ‘three-oh-four’ which I actually think is kind of cute haha 

One:

You feel like an absolute mess. Your hair is all over the place, you’re in a full sweats ensemble that is - true to its name - making you perspire like nothing else as you lug boxes upon boxes of your stuff into your building and up to your new apartment.

To make matters worse, you’re exhausted. Moving days have this absolutely draining effect, and you can’t wait for the day to be over. You’re not even sure if you’ll unpack anything- maybe you’ll just fish out a towel and some body wash from one of the many crates you have, shower, then collapse onto your mattress- do you even have the energy to set up your bed frame?

You’re busy trying to plan out how you’re going to even accomplish the day, when the elevator doors open, and you find yourself staring up at one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he grins, stepping next to you in the small space. “Moving in?”

You’re so distracted by the way his biceps look in his muscle shirt that it takes you a moment to speak. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Johnny,” he tells you.

“y/n.” The box in your hands is beginning to slip from the sweat on your palms, and you haphazardly readjust it on your hip.

“This might be a little forward,” Johnny chuckles, “but do you need any help?”

“Uh…” You turn once again to look up at this absolute tower of a man. “I’m almost done moving everything-”

“Let me guess, boxes done, just some furniture stuff left?”

You feel your skin flush with heat. “Is it that obvious that I’m struggling right now?” An awkward laugh escapes your lips, and you’re happy to find Johnny return the sound with a soft, understanding smile.

“Usually when cute girls move somewhere, they have a boyfriend, a brother, a dad, a friend- someone to help them do the tough stuff, and since you’re alone, I’m guessing you’re troopering this whole thing out all by yourself.”

“New city,” you explain. “I don’t uh- don’t know anyone here just yet, and my family didn’t want to take time off work to help with any of this.”

“Lucky you bumped into me then,” Johnny grins. “I just finished up at the gym, but I’ve got energy to help a new neighbour.”

The elevator dings to signal you’ve made it to your floor, and Johnny follows you out.

“You’re the new tenant for 304?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, stopping in front of the unit you now call home.

“We really are neighbours,” Johnny laughs. “I’m 306.”

“Look it was nice to meet you,” you say, “but you really don’t need to help, I’m sure I can manage my bed and a few other things-”

“y/n,” Johnny interrupts you, “I promise I’m not some creep, just a good neighbour offering help. You look tired, let me help you.”

Your pride makes it difficult to accept this sort of thing, but you swallow it, offering Johnny a nod. 

And that’s how you find yourself moving your bed and the last bit of furniture into your new apartment with one of the sexiest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s quite the charmer, and he’s reassuring too- calming you down when things are a little heavy, and slowing his own pace to match your exhaustion.

In no time at all, everything is out of the moving truck, and Johnny leans in your doorway as he watches you slump into a chair. 

“Do you want help making your bedframe or anything?” he enquires.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to call it a day,” you admit. “The drive here was long, I’ve been up since five AM, didn’t sleep well last night due to nerves-”

“Sounds like you should get some rest,” Johnny nods.

“I really appreciate your help though,” you offer. “I’ll uh, have to buy you beers or something.”

Johnny only laughs. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I work on a rig, so I’m only here a week or so every month, you caught me at a good time.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointment that surges through you. Of course this man was too hot to be true- of course he has a job that requires him to be away for long periods or he’d probably have an equally hot girlfriend already.

“But… let me give you my number, and if you ever need anything while I am here, you can just give me a shout.” 

The two of you exchange digits, and with one final smile, Johnny leaves you be. 

You lay on your bed for a while, trying to calm down- from the moving, or from being around a ten out of ten, you’re not sure. 

Two:

It’s your first time doing laundry in the new building, and to your disappointment, you find the shared laundry room to have no available machines.

A sigh escapes you as you stand there momentarily, wondering if you should wait five minutes for a turn over, or just scratch this whole idea and hope there are empty machines tomorrow.

As you’re considering your options, the laundry room door opens, and a tall blonde enters.

“Hi,” he beams.

“Hello.” You watch him carefully, noticing that he heads to a machine to take out his clothes from the washer. “Uh- do you mind if I put my stuff in there once it’s empty?”

“Of course not,” he smiles. “With only six machines for the whole building, it can be a bit rough trying to nab one on busy days.”

“I’ve noticed,” you laugh. “I’m new here, my name is y/n.”

“I’m Jungwoo,” he tells you, moving his clothing into the only empty dryer. He turns on the machine and then steps back, looking over at you again. “So are you new to the building or new to the city?”

“The city,” you admit, beginning to move your stuff into the now empty washer.

“You have that look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just- a lot of people here are boring, we’re not exactly known for fashion or anything like that-”

You look down at the Stitch onesie you’re wearing that you’d bought for Halloween a few years back but has since become a comfort outfit, then back up at the blonde.

“I just like your style!” he insists. “Not everyone can rock blue pajamas!”

You find yourself laughing at his sincerity, shaking your head as you grab your washer fluid to get the machine going.

“Anyways,” Jungwoo sighs. “Did you move here for work?”

“I actually work online,” you tell him. “I can work from anywhere, and I figured this would be a nice place to get out of the big city for a while- cheaper rent, more nature, that sort of thing.”

“Makes sense,” Jungwoo nods. “I’m a server at a bar just down the road.”

You take a moment, then laugh. “You seem like a server.”

“Because I’m so cute and social?” he grins.

“Definitely,” you nod, enjoying his energy.

“Anyways, I love making friends, and since you’re new to the city, I’m guessing you haven’t met a lot of people yet. If you want to be friends, I’d love to add you to my gossip roster.”

“Your gossip roster?”

“I’m a server, which means I love all things tea- except for when grandmas order actual tea in the middle of a rush, that’s the worst.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” you grin.

“So… friends?” Jungwoo asks.

You nod. “We can be friends.”

Three:

It’s been three weeks since you moved into your new apartment, and in that time, you’ve gotten settled, and even visited Jungwoo at his bar. He’s an interesting friend, and he seems to know everything about everyone.

At first, you’d been worried about any ulterior motives he might have, as you’ve experienced many men try to make a move on you under the guise of just wanting to be your friend. But now, you realize Jungwoo’s intentions towards you are pure- or, as pure as they can be given how much gossip he consumes.

You get the sense that you’re not his type, and that’s a hundred percent okay with you, in fact, it’s a dynamic that makes you finally feel comfortable accepting an invitation to visit his apartment.

It seems all the attractive men in your building live on your floor, and as you enter his unit, you find yet another cute man standing in the kitchen.

“This is Mark,” Jungwoo introduces you. “Mark, this is y/n. Don’t worry, Lee, I’ve told her everything about you.”

“Oh, great,” Mark sighs.

It’s true, Jungwoo has divulged way too deep into his roommate’s history. You know that he’s a content creator and chef, he used to work in a prestigious restaurant, went on one of those reality cooking shows, managed to be the runner up for the first place prize despite his awkward nature, and has now been commissioned to write a cookbook focused solely on burgers (which Jungwoo has assured you is actually a broad topic despite what you might think).

You also know that Mark has a limited dating history, with a high school sweetheart who left him right before his stint on live tv, and a new crush on some barista that he’s too shy to even talk to despite the fact that he goes to her coffee shop every day just to order frothed milk with vanilla since caffeine doesn’t agree with him.

“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Jungwoo asks, coming to stand right behind Mark in the kitchen.

From the way Mark clears his throat and steps back, it’s obvious to you that he’s not as comfortable about being close to people as Jungwoo is, and you find yourself enjoying this roommate dynamic already.

“I’m actually testing some stupid protein burger for muscle heads,” Mark admits.

“Aren’t burgers already high in protein since they’re meat?” you ask.

“Yes, and no,” Mark groans, “it depends. I want to have a few vegetarian and even vegan options in the cookbook I’m writing on burgers- and lots of people want high protein even in their plant based meals.” 

“So… what are your options for this burger you’re trying to create?” you enquire. 

“I’ve tried some black bean patties, chickpea patties, that sort of thing- but I’m considering making an entire two page fold dedicated to dredges and batters that you could use on a variety of burgers, meat or vegetarian. I got everything to make a protein powder infused batter, but I’m just now realizing that the protein powder I have on hand is chocolate flavoured, which really won’t work if I put it on anything, let alone a tofu burger.”

“Call Jae,” Jungwoo says simply. “That man has a collection of protein powder that would make a man on steroids combust.”

“Maybe I should just run to the store,” Mark sighs.

“You only need a small scoop of powder, right?” Jungwoo counters. “Why would you go buy an entire plain jug of protein powder when a protein head lives next door?”

“I’d hate to bother him,” the chef groans again, and you find yourself starting to realize the true depth of his social anxiety. 

“I’ll call Jaehyun,” Jungwoo states, pulling out his phone.

You take a seat at the island counter while Jungwoo makes a deal for some powder with this ‘Jae’ person, and you watch Mark fuss over other ingredients that he adds to a dry mixing bowl.

There’s a knock at the door, and then a man peaks his head inside of the apartment.

Your eyes lock and the wind is knocked from your lungs- is every hot man in the city living in your building?

“Jae!” Jungwoo yells, “come in!”

The man steps into the apartment, offering a smile, and the dimples in his cheeks practically blind you. There’s no way around it, this man looks like a model. He’s handsome, but there’s a slightly feminine softness to the angles of his face, a warmth in his eyes, and it’s absolutely captivating.

“Am I interrupting?” Jae asks as he approaches the kitchen, his eyes continuously meeting your own.

“Not at all, Mark’s just floundering as usual, and I’m hanging out with my new friend. y/n, this is Jaehyun, Jaehyun, this is y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile.

“You too.” Jaehyun sets a tub of protein powder onto the kitchen counter next to Mark, then he turns his full attention to you again. “So how did you meet Jungwoo?”

“In the laundry room,” Jungwoo is quick to explain, and you don’t miss the exchange of glances between Jaehyun and your friend. “She’s new to the building.” Jungwoo practically winks at Jaehyun, and you get the suspicion that he’s trying to set you up with this model looking protein man.

“I love meeting new neighbours,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “What floor are you on?”

“This one, room 304.”

“No way.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “That’s right across from mine!”

“You’re 305?” you ask, heart beating faster in your chest.

“In the flesh,” Jaehyun grins.

“Can we move the talking somewhere else?” Mark asks quietly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The energy fizzles immediately, and Jaehyun nods. “I was actually just heading to the gym.”

“Of course you were,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes.

“But uh, I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, looking at you directly. “Welcome to the building.” 

Four:

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when meeting cute men in your apartment building anymore, but you still find your breath leaving your body when you’re bringing groceries up from the parking garage only for a very cute man to enter the elevator.

He steps in and flashes you a smirk, then looks at the floor buttons. “You’re headed to three?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

“Are you new?”

“Been here about a month.”

“Huh,” the man looks stumped for a moment. “I feel like I would have seen you. I’m Hyuck by the way.”

“y/n.”

Hyuck nods. “Are you liking the building?”

“It’s nice,” you muse, too tired from your day at the grocery store to make much smalltalk. 

“You must be… unit 304? I’m a couple of doors down, near the corner. I know someone moved out, and I heard from the building manager that someone was moving in, but fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t met you yet.”

“I can be kind of reclusive,” you joke. “I mean, I work from home.”

“Ahhh, you’re one of those girls.” Hyuck grins at you knowingly and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, you know, sometimes the cutest girls are the ones that stay in their house all day.”

“Oh.” You’re really not sure how to respond to his statement, and your eyes shift down to the floor as the elevator comes to a stop.

The two of you both turn to the left, and Hyuck walks in step with you to your door, where he stops. “What’s that?”

You’re confused for a moment, too busy fumbling with your keys, but when you look up, you realize there’s a sticky note on your door. 

“Looks like you already have an admirer,” Hyuck grins. “Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime,” he reads. “Who do you think left this?”

You’re pretty sure it was Jaehyun who left the note- after all, the only other people you know are Jungwoo and Johnny, who both have your number, and you doubt Mark Lee of all people would be this forward. 

“I uh-” you stutter a little, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure.”

“So are you single, or…?”

“Definitely single,” you blurt out, pushing your key into the door and clicking it unlocked.

“Definitely single,” Hyuck repeats as you push into your apartment, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Five:

You’re finishing up after dinner when your phone makes a beeping sound, and you quickly pick it up, surprised to see a message from Johnny.

‘Looks like you’ve got some secret admirers, 304.’

Your stomach drops, and you realize that in your haste to enter your apartment after finding Jaehyun’s note with Hyuck earlier, you hadn’t actually removed it from your door- but wait, admirers? As in… plural? 

Tripping over yourself to get to the door, you throw it open to find not one sticky note, but two.

While Jaehyun’s initial ‘Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime’ is still there, someone has taken the liberty to put a second note on top of it, and this one reads; ‘I’m more fun, let’s have drinks.’

It’s clear who the second note is from, and you’re quick to rip both off of your door. 

Jaehyun and Hyuck are both quite forward, and your heart is racing as you go sit on your couch, feeling conflicted.

You pull out your phone again, releasing a deep sigh as you write up a text to Johnny. ‘This apartment building is so weird.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ comes his quick response. 

Taking another breath to calm yourself, you look at the texts, and that’s when you realize, ‘I didn’t know you were back from the rigs.’ 

‘Got back a couple of days ago :)’ 

Tapping your fingers against your couch, you try to figure out how you should play this.

You’re most attracted to Johnny, but now that Jaehyun and Hyuck are so clearly demonstrating their blooming affection for you - out in the open where everyone on your floor can see - you wonder if that might throw a wrench at Johnny’s own feelings for you…

Does Johnny like you?

When he’d helped you move your things, was that just him genuinely being nice? 

You feel absolutely twisted, especially since you’ve never considered yourself the type of girl to entertain a long distance relationship…

‘So… you’re in town for a few more days?’

‘three!’ 

You definitely need to sort out your priorities. 

Six:

You’re in need of a drink as you walk into Jungwoo’s work, taking a seat at the bar and releasing a deep sigh.

“For a girl who came to happy hour, you don’t look too happy,” Jungwoo muses as he moves to stand in front of you.

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh.

“I mean… you’re the hot new girl in 304 who has two guys fighting over you in sticky notes, I’d expect you to be a little more up beat.” 

“You saw that?” you ask in shock.

“Everyone saw it. Whoever left those notes weren’t exactly subtle… who did leave those notes, by the way?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s need for gossip. “You know one of them at least.”

“Jae, I’m guessing,” Jungwoo nods. “He asked me for your number but since I’m your friend I’m not just out here handing around your personal information.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And guy number two?” he enquires.

“Some dude named Hyuck.”

An interesting expression immediately appears on Jungwoo’s face. It’s something between an ‘oooooh!’ and an ‘ooop!’ and you can’t quite place the emotion.

“What?” you ask, leaning forward. “You know him?”

“Everyone knows Hyuck.”

“They do?”

“Let’s just say…” Jungwoo’s voice lowers as he leans over the bar, “he’s a provider of things that a lot of people like to get their hands on.”

“Huh?” 

“A plug, there, you tortured it out of me, Hyuck is a plug,” Jungwoo throws his hands up as if you just twisted his arm for the information, and you stare at him blankly.

“A plug,” you repeat.

“You can’t be that innocent, babes, you know what I mean.”

You sit back in your chair, thinking it through.

So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 

“Where did you even meet Hyuck?” Jungwoo asks.

“In the elevator?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” your friend laughs.

“I don’t know! God, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“There are worse things to be overwhelmed about, I mean… tax season is coming soon, and I don’t know how much fraud I should commit with my tips.” 

You can’t help but laugh at Jungwoo, and he’s succeeded in using humour to calm you down. 

He’s grinning at you, and he taps his hand onto the bar top. “Let me make you a drink, on me, but you’ll be paying me with gossip, deal?” 

“Deal.”

You trust Jungwoo to make you drinks by now, and he doesn’t ask what you want, he simply begins to mix a fruity concoction together. Soon, he’s setting it down in front of you and you’re taking a large gulp.

“So…” he grins. “Hyuck or Jae?”

“Are those my only options?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen. “Spill the tea.”

“I just… I met this guy Johnny when I moved in-”

“Johnny as in super tall, blue collar, muscle man, Johnny?”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh.

“And you met him the first day you moved in?”

“He actually helped me with boxes and furniture.”

Jungwoo lets out a whistle. “Now I see why you’re overwhelmed.”

“I guess, I just don’t really know any of these guys too well. I’ve only met all of them once-”

“But you have a favourite,” Jungwoo interjects. “Johnny’s your favourite, despite his fucked up job.”

You sigh. “How could you tell?”

“I watch a lot of reality tv, in shows like Love is Blind or Singles Inferno sometimes a girl has multiple guys going for her, but the first one leaves a mark… it’s not always the case though, but it’s about that initial impact.” 

“Impact,” you repeat. “Johnny definitely made an impact… and he saw the notes from Hyuck and Jae.”

“Oooooh,” Jungwoo grins, “scandalous.” 

“But he works away for weeks at a time!”

“He’s here now,” Jungwoo points out. “So… go on a date with him, and sort out Hyuck and Jae after.”

“You think so?”

“What could be wrong about it?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Go on a date with Johnny, see how you feel- maybe he does something gross that turns you off and it makes life easier.”

“Or maybe he’s perfect and it makes things even worse,” you sigh.

“You never know until you try. Another thing from my dating shows is that no one wants to live with regrets, and I don’t think you do either.” 

Seven:

You’d taken Jungwoo’s advice, and after two drinks at the bar, you’re home, waiting for a knock that sounds on your door.

Taking a deep breath, you fix your outfit, approaching your entry way to find Johnny standing in the hall. He looks all tall and gorgeous, in a similar laid back muscle shirt and sweats combo to the one you’d first seen him in. His hair is a little messy and damp as if he’d just come out of a shower, and the smell of his piney bodywash has you going weak. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you smile back. “Uh, come in.”

Johnny nods, stepping past the threshold. “Are you a shoes off in the house kind of girl?”

“Yes, please.”

You watch him kick off his runners before turning to you. “I’m a little confused.”

“You are?”

“I got your text that you wanted me to come over, and I half expected you needed help building some cabinet or something, but then I remembered you’ve been here a month already, so now I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“I told you I’d buy you a beer for helping me move my stuff, remember?” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t have beer, but I did open a bottle of wine.”

“That works,” Johnny grins.

“Come, sit.” You move to your living area, taking a seat on the couch. Johnny joins you, and you note the way he immediately shifts his body to be facing you. He watches you pour him a glass, and you both notice your shaky hand as you pass it to him.

“How much have you been drinking, 304?”

“A bit.”

“Rough day?” he enquires with a smile.

“Just…” you let out a deep breath. “Not used to all the attention I’m getting here.”

“Yeah, your entourage.” Johnny sips his drink, still grinning as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not the kind of person who loves getting a lot of attention?”

Johnny cocks his head to the side. “I think it’s hard for a girl who looks like you to avoid that sort of thing.”

God, he is into you, you can taste it- or maybe that’s the sweet notes of your wine. 

You don’t know what to say, but you feel a grin appear on your face, your eyes shifting down to your glass. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just an observation,” Johnny laughs. “So… what are you going to do about all of this?”

“I think…” you swallow thickly. “I think I’m doing something right now.”

“Yeah?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to be at a loss for words, and you get the sense that this isn’t something that happens very often to him.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like to get a lot of attention,” you offer.

Johnny shrugs. “I’m only in town a week every month, and when I’m here I spend most of my time at the gym or at home. I’ve never been a big party guy, I prefer cheap beer to bars, and I guess I’ve just accepted that a guy like me has to be single.”

“You have to be?” you enquire, cocking your head to the side in a bid to understand him better. 

“Most girls aren’t interested in starting anything with a man who works on a rig. I understand the guys who have girls before the job, and they stay after building a foundation, but it’s hard to work on the start of a relationship when you’re not around.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod- in fact, it’s something you’ve considered to great length already. “If… if the right girl came along, would that be something you’re interested in exploring?”

Johnny lets out a deep breath. “That’s a good question.” 

You watch him sip his wine, giving him the space to consider it.

“I just… I wouldn’t want a girl to feel like she’s an afterthought, or a fuck buddy- and doing the work I do, I have to be focused. It’s day rate, it’s dangerous, sometimes the rigs are a couple hours away from camp, and that’s on top of a twelve hour shift-” He lets out another deep sigh. “I think it would take a very special, very loyal kind of girl to give me a chance.”

“And what would you say your type is?”

His eyes meet yours. “I love a cute girl next door.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Funny, I like a boy next door.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re neighbours.”

Johnny lifts his glass and you clink yours together, giggling.

It’s crazy how things can feel so comfortable with him already- but in the background of your mind there’s a sense of dread looming, after all, he’s leaving in just two or so days.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Of course.”

“I’m sad you’re leaving soon.”

“I’m not leaving yet,” he points out.

“You know what I mean.”

Johnny shifts, resting his arm on the back of your couch. “I have a proposition for you, 304.”

“God, stop calling me 304,” you laugh.

“It feels like we’re interested in each other, but I get the sense you’re unsure about the long distance aspect. What if we hang out tonight, tomorrow I take you on an actual date, and if things go well, we could talk about what communication would look like when I’m away.”

“You know what?” you take a deep breath. “I would like that.”

“But… I have on condition.”

“Hit me.”

Johnny is quiet for a moment. “I’m aware that, no matter how good our dates tonight and tomorrow are, me being away might be too much for you. You have two other guys who are interested and they live here, so… even though I’m a cuddly person, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep things PG before I leave, that way… I mean, if you chose one of them because distance is too much, at least things won’t be awkward for us, and we can still be friends.” 

“I think…” - as much as you hate the idea and want to climb him like a tree - “I think that might be the most mature way to handle this.” 

Johnny nods. “So… what are your thoughts on aliens?”

“Huh?”

“UFO’s, UAP’s, USP’s-”

“What even are all of those?” you laugh.

“Unidentified flying objects, unidentified aerial phenomenon, which is pretty much another term for UFO’s, unidentified submersible phenomenon-”

You shake your head at him in affectionate shock. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

“History network,” Johnny grins. “Listen, why would I ask you surface level questions when we can dive into conspiracy theory? UFO’s are a good way to bounce into all sorts of topics, religion, politics, current and historical events-”

He’s a little odd, but you suppose you understand where he’s coming from now. You decide to give up control, and you lean into his question, loving the twists and turns that the conversation takes. You talk about everything, from the moon landing, to ancient monolithic structures and tv shows about space, a discussion about recent alien films leads to an analysis on favourite actors-

Before you even know it, hours have passed, the wine bottle is empty, and you feel as if you know him a lot better than when he’d first entered your apartment. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.

You sigh, looking at the time. “At nine.”

“I should probably get out of your hair then. When are you off?”

“Fiveish.”

Johnny stands up, stretching, and you can’t help the way your eyes move to the exposed strip of V-line when his shirt rises. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at fiveish, 304.”

You rise to your feet, pleasantly surprised when the gentle giant pulls you in for a hug. God, the feeling of his chest against your cheek- the soft cotton of his muscle shirt and the scent of his cologne- you release a deep breath, fully melting into what must be one of the best hugs of your life.

“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, and as he does so, his lips brush the crown of your head.

He’d said PG, and you suppose this is PG, but fuck, you want more.  

Eight:

Out of all the possible date venues, you hadn’t expected bowling. Johnny had told you to dress casually, he’d picked you up, and taken you down to a massive black truck- he’d driven you around town, pointing things out to you, and you’d ended up at a small, underground bowling bar.

He’s a bit of a goof ball, but you can tell he’s got experience playing this game. To compensate for your lack of skills, he does all sorts of trick shots that make him miss points, and you appreciate his effort to not decimate you. 

You drink beer and chat and play, and again, it feels so natural with him. 

When the game is over, the two of you get in the truck, and Johnny says he wants to show you something. A fifteen minute drive leads you to the edge of town, on a lookout that’s perfect now that it’s dark and the small city’s lights are sparkling.

“Do you take all your dates here?” you tease.

Johnny chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been on a date in a while?”

“I guess with your job, I would,” you pause, looking over at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The large man releases a sigh. “I had a highschool sweetheart,” he starts. “But as time went by, she couldn’t deal with me being a blue collar man. She was very corporate, and our life styles weren’t exactly a match. When she broke up with me, I switched from construction to the rig jobs, figured it would be easier to just put my head down and work. Been doing that for about six years now.”

“So you haven’t dated since highschool?” you ask in shock.

“There’ve been a couple of things here and there. Took a few summers off, had flings, but shit always hit the fan when I went back to work.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a family man at heart,” he assures you. “As a supervisor, I definitely make enough money to take care of the people in my life, but it’s always been a time issue.” Johnny takes a breath, and then he meets your gaze. “What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?”

“Had a couple of failed relationships, the last one inspired me to move away from my home city and come here so I guess there’s a silver lining to it. Ended things with my ex about a year ago and nothing really felt the same after that, figured a change of scenery would do me good.”

“And has it? Done you good?”

You look over at the gorgeous man sitting next to you. “Definitely.” 

It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him, and you note the way his gaze dips to your lips, but then he pulls back, letting out a sigh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Me!?” You act scandalized.

“Yes, you, little miss 304.”

You can only laugh, doing your best to enjoy the rest of your date with him while the knowledge that he’s leaving tomorrow haunts in your periphery. 

Nine:

Johnny’s been gone for three days, and he’s been true to his word when you’d discussed communication while he’s on the rig. He’s kept contact with you, sending good morning messages for you to wake up to, and texting or calling in the late evening when he’s off work.

However, other things have progressed as well. You’d come out of your apartment this morning to find not one, but two bouquets waiting for you, and you feel as if this thing with Jaehyun and Hyuck is getting out of hand.

You find yourself at Jungwoo’s bar again, giving him the rundown on everything that has happened.

“So you’re like, set on Johnny then, huh?” your friend asks.

“I’m not sure, it’s only been three days that he’s been gone but I miss him already, and I can’t even imagine what it will be like to wait another nineteen days-”

“You always knew distance would be a struggle,” Jungwoo nods.

You groan, taking a sip of your fruity cocktail. “I just can’t believe Jaehyun and Hyuck left flowers at my door.”

“You’re going to have to do something about them.”

“Like what?”

“Reject or accept, babes,” Jungwoo says simply. 

“Accept?”

“You’re not technically dating Johnny yet. It sounds like he understands you might go on a date or two while he’s gone, I mean, you had that whole conversation about keeping things PG so it’s not awkward if he comes back and you’ve chosen someone else- it feels like he’s giving you breathing room to explore.”

You can only sigh, resting your head in your hands.

“Do you want to explore?” Jungwoo enquires. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to bump into Jaehyun or Hyuck sometime, so you better figure it out fast.”

Ten:

As you’re returning from happy hour with Jungwoo, you run into your building manager. He’s a young man named Doyoung. He has a very regal look to him, and he’s as attractive as most of the men on the third floor.

He’s in the small building office, and as you walk past, he stops you.

“y/n!” he calls, waving you inside, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!”

Your heart sinks- your payment wasn’t late, was it? Did you get a noise complaint? Your mind begins to race-

“I heard that people have been leaving notes and flowers at your door,” Doyoung tells you. “As you’re a young woman who is new to the building, I wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re not being harassed.”

Your brain short circuits- it’s one thing for Jungwoo and other people on the third floor to know about your ‘secret admirers’ but another for your building manager to be broaching the topic with you. 

“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “I’m not being harassed.”

Doyoung gives you a pointed look. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “It’s all just playful, nothing… nefarious.”

God, you hate how proper you’re trying to sound, but how else are you supposed to explain this situation to Doyoung? 

This is so awkward, who knew moving into a new apartment would be this fucking complex? 

Eleven:

You’re in the lobby checking your mailbox when the front door opens and Jaehyun walks in. His hair is windswept, and he looks like he’s getting back from the gym. He immediately flashes you that dimpled smile and your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage.

“Hey, you,” he grins. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I’ve uh… been busy,” you offer, quickly closing your mail box.

“Seems that way,” Jaehyun muses, and you realize he’s waiting to go to the elevator with you.

Taking a deep breath, you pull up your big girl panties, walking with him to the lift.

He hits the button, turning to you. “So-”

The elevator opens and you find Hyuck standing there, having just come up from the underground parkade, and suddenly you feel like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hiya, hot stuff,” Hyuck grins. “Going up?”

Part of you wants to turn and run away, but you’re in too deep now to go back, so you enter the elevator with the two men who’ve been fighting for space on your door, and maybe also in your heart.

“How’ve you been?” Hyuck asks.

“I’ve been good, just busy,” you mutter quickly, hitting the ‘close door’ button in the hope that it saves you even one second in this awkward elevator ride.

“You coming from the gym?” Hyuck’s line of questioning has taken a turn, and you realize he’s addressing Jaehyun next to you. 

“Yup, you?”

“Was just out,” Hyuck responds vaguely.

You get the sense that these two might know each other in passing, after all, you all live on the same floor, but at the same time, it’s somewhat clear from their muted interaction that they’re not particularly close.

It’s an awkward, silent minute in the elevator, but it’s even more awkward when you all get off on the third floor, with both men letting you exit first, only to struggle in a pissing match over who follows you.

They end up tracing your steps to your door, and when you get there, they both stop.

“Wait,” Hyuck breathes, and you watch him look from you to Jaehyun then back again. “You must be sticky note dude.”

“And you’re flowers guy,” Jaehyun sighs.

Both of them turn to you and it’s Hyuck who asks, “You’re still single right?”

It must be obvious to them both that if they’re warring at your doorstep, neither of them actually have your number just yet, and while it’s awkward to be put on the spot like this, you understand their confusion.

“Still single,” you assure them, fumbling with your keys. “I uh, actually have only lived here a month, and I’m still getting settled-” you search for the right words while trying not to drop your phone. “I appreciate the interest from you both, but this has gotten a little out of hand- Doyoung asked me about all of this yesterday-”

“Doyoung?” Hyuck scoffs. “What does he care if we leave notes and flowers at your door?”

“I guess he’s just concerned about my safety?” you offer.

While you can tell that Jaehyun understands, Hyuck still seems a little slow to the pick up, rolling his eyes. “As if we’d ever do anything bad.”

Which is funny, coming from a guy who’s supposedly a drug dealer.

“I think I just need some space,” you say finally, shocked by the conviction in your own voice as you slip your key into the lock. “To… you know, settle.”

“I’m sure we can give you some space,” Jaehyun offers, and you can tell from his tone that it’s a warning to Hyuck not to argue.

The plug sighs. “Yeah, we can give some space.”

They’re both very handsome, and upon different circumstances, one of them doing the sticky note and flowers trick might have swayed you, but the fact that it’s become something of a war between them has turned you off. The seriousness in Doyoung’s discussion with you yesterday had made you realize as much, and you’d be lying if you said your growing connection with Johnny didn’t have anything to do with it either.

Twelve:

After the debacle with Jaehyun and Hyuck, you’d anxiously awaited a call with Johnny when he was done work and back at the camp. But now, as you talk to him on the phone, you hesitate about divulging in the events that took place today.

Johnny’s making an effort with you, but you can hear in his voice that he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to add pressure to his shoulders-

“Are you okay, 304?” Johnny asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just a bit quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” you admit with a sigh.

“Sounds intense, what’s up?”

Another deep breath escapes you. “So… remember the whole secret admirer thing?”

“Uh huh.”

“They left flowers on my doorstep a few days ago too, and Doyoung actually pulled me aside to ask me about it- he was worried I’m being harassed, and it just makes me think about, you know, being a young woman in a new city and my safety…”

You trail off and Johnny takes the opportunity to empathize, softly telling you, “Being anxious about this sort of thing is reasonable given the circumstances.” 

“It’s not that I think Jaehyun or Hyuck would ever overstep-”

“Well, they left notes, and you didn’t respond, so they left flowers, it’s not exactly a sign that they’re going to back off.”

“I guess that’s true,” you admit.

“Anyways, you were saying, about Doyoung?” 

You love how Johnny can get you back on track, and you take another deep breath to steady yourself. “I saw Jaehyun and Hyuck in the elevator today, and they both walked me to my door which was super awkward, and I guess I pretty much ended up telling them both that I needed space. Part of me wasn’t sure if I should tell you any of this, I know you’re tired after work a long day, but I guess I want to be transparent with you about everything.”

The line is quiet for a moment, and when Johnny speaks, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate you bringing it up,” he starts. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little shocked you didn’t accept either of their offers to get drinks.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I thought I’d made it clear that I’d understand if you did-”

“Just because you’d understand it doesn’t mean I was going to do it,” you tell him.

Johnny chuckles. “I suppose that’s true. I just, I don’t know, you don’t owe me anything- and maybe you’re just not interested in either of them, but I hope you didn’t say no to them to… spare my feelings or something?”

“Well… are your feelings spared?” 

Another laugh escapes him. “I just mean to say, this wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought she could do long distance, only to get a better option in town and jump ship.”

“Maybe I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated,” you tell him.

“It’s starting to feel like you’re not.” You can hear the fondness in his voice, and it makes your heart race faster in your chest. 

“When I get one man in my head, I can’t think about another. I’m not the type to jump ship,” you explain. “You’ve given me no reason to.”

“Except the distance,” he muses.

“Even with the distance, you’ve been attentive every day, and I’ve really appreciated that. You know, some guys will live in the same city as you, take you on one date, then not talk to you for five days- you and I did two dates back to back, and we’ve been talking consistently ever since.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want you to feel like an afterthought.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like just an option.” 

The line is quiet for a moment, then Johnny laughs. “There you go, being dangerous again.”

“If being genuine is dangerous, then I’m the most dangerous woman you’ll ever meet, Johnny.”

“I work on a rig, 304, I happen to like danger.” 

Thirteen:

You’re drinking wine with Jungwoo in your livingroom when your phone dings, and a smile spreads across your face when you see it’s a text from Johnny.

“One second,” you tell him, putting down your wine to respond to your blue collar man.

“Johnny?” Jungwoo grins knowingly.

“Yup, he’s just telling me he’s off work, but now it’s a two hour drive back to the camp.”

“So our girls’ night is over in two hours, got it,” Jungwoo jokes, except, is it really a joke if it’s true?

You can only laugh, shaking your head and setting your phone down again.

“You like him,” Jungwoo notes. “You like him a lot.” 

“I do,” you confess.

“You told Jaehyun and Hyuck off because of him,” your friend continues.

“Uh huh.” You take a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the knowing expression on Jungwoo’s face.

“So… has it gotten sexual yet? You know, asking for snaps of your tits-”

“Jungwoo!” you squeal, nearly spilling your wine as you go to gently smack his arm.

“What!? It’s a valid question!”

“No! It’s not sexual yet! I mean… I think we both have those feelings, but right now… we’re just, getting to know each other.”

“And when he’s home?” Jungwoo cocks a brow and you giggle even more.

“When he’s home…” you lower your voice, “I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”

“I knew it!” Jungwoo cheers. “Team Johnny!”

You clink your glasses in agreement, waiting for Jungwoo to settle down a little. He’s way too invested in your love life, but you kind of adore it. 

“You know…” Jungwoo trails off, “some rig guys do mostly winters, then come back for the summer and will take a couple of months off. I remember seeing Johnny more frequently last August.”

“He mentioned that,” you admit. 

“Did he say if he plans to do that this year? It’s almost March, so that’s April, May, maybe June… three or four more stints up there until a possible summer of love?”

You laugh at his choice of words, but your heart races at the notion of getting to spend your whole summer with Johnny, of a relationship of normalcy. 

“I’ll have to talk to him about it,” you decide.

“Maybe send some sexy snaps to tempt him, or talk about it once he’s home and you’ve sucked that dick, you know, incentives.”

“You’re so bad,” you giggle.

“I’m a hit of realism, which is what you need after living a fantasy for a month with three men fighting over you.”

You let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right about that.”

Fourteen:

“How was your day?” you ask, practically kicking your feet now that you get to talk to Johnny.

“Long,” he laughs. “You?”

“It was good, hung out with Jungwoo for a bit, had some wine.”

“I can hear it in your voice, 304, you always get extra cute when you’ve been drinking your wine.”

“Do I?” 

“See? I can just imagine you kicking your feet right now.”

God, he knows you so well already- but you suppose that’s what happens when you talk to someone for hours every day. 

“And now you probably stopped kicking your feet because you’re embarrassed,” he continues.

“You’re a psychic,” you declare.

“Sure I am.”

You take a breath. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“So… you mentioned that sometimes you have the summer off, and I guess, since it’s almost March, I was just wondering if you’d be around in June or July.”

“I mean, I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but if that’s something you wanted, I could see what I could make happen.”

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t want to tell you what to do… and, I don’t want you to lose out on money for me, especially since we just started dating, if you even call this dating- but, at the same time, I think, long term, it would be easier to manage you going away for six or more months if I knew you’d be back for at least part of the summer.”

“I do call this dating,” Johnny tells you. “So I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I also wanted to know when you’re flight back is, I was thinking I could come grab you from the airport.” 

Johnny chuckles. “I’ll send you the information, 304.” 

Fifteen:

You’re waiting outside your car when you see Johnny coming out of the airport, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore. You run to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

Johnny chuckles, dropping his duffle to pull you closer, even going so far as to lift you off the ground, releasing a groan as he does so.

Fuck, he feels so good, and big, and warm-

When he sets you down, you throw inhibition out the window, grabbing the back of his neck to pull his lips down to your own.

He smiles into the kiss, his palm flattening against the small of your back, his mouth moving in harmony with your own. You kiss him deeply, pouring in all the emotion of having missed him for weeks- 

It’s you who breaks the kiss, panting and looking up at him. “Let’s get you home,” you state. 

“Whatever you say, 304.”

The drive back to the apartment complex is a blur, you’re so distracted by Johnny that you’re surprised you even make it back in one piece. The elevator ride is quiet, filled with tension, and you can practically feel happiness radiating off of both of you.

“Wanna come to mine?” Johnny suggests. “I need to have a quick shower, unpack a little.”

“Okay,” you nod, excited as you follow Johnny to his place.

He lets you in first, and you eagerly eat up what’s in front of you, looking for details of the decor that might help you know this man even better.

However, you find that his apartment is sparsely decorated, with bare necessities, a minimalist look, which you suppose makes sense given the fact that he’s hardly here.

“Your place is nicer,” Johnny muses as he kicks off his shoes. 

“It’s just more furnished,” you laugh, not minding the lack of items.

“My bedroom is this way,” Johnny explains, heading into it while you follow slowly. He throws his bag on the floor next to his bed before turning to you. “I’m going to wash up a bit, then we can do whatever you want… or, I mean, you could always join me in the shower if that works better.”

He winks at you, and it’s very playful. You can only laugh, shaking your head and feeling your skin flush with heat as you look at the ground.

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, but when he disappears into the bathroom, you find your heart is still racing.

Should you go in the shower with him? 

He had offered for you to join…

Can you be a bit more patient?

No. You can’t. As you stand in his bedroom, you begin to undress, hyping yourself up for the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

After a deep breath, you knock gently on the door to his bathroom.

“Come in!” he calls over the sound of water spray, and you peek your head into the enclosed space. 

The room is full of steam, and the glassy walls of the shower are fogged up, but you can see the outline of Johnny’s body and it has you drooling.

You slip inside, closing the door behind you before making your way to the shower.

“Can I join you?” you ask, giving him one last opportunity to decide if this was a bad idea-

“Get in here.” Johnny opens the shower door, grabs your arm and tugs you inside with him. You blink against the mist, looking up at the large man who’s currently blocking the spray of water from hitting you. “Didn’t think you’d actually join,” he muses with a grin.

“Me neither,” you admit.

Johnny strokes your arm, fingers trailing up so he can cup your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone and you lean into his warm touch, releasing a moan. 

“Do you want to do this here, or would you rather we wait till I can get you onto my bed?” he asks.

“Here,” you tell him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“Didn’t take you as the impatient type,” Johnny chuckles.

“I’ve been patient, for weeks,” you laugh.

“I guess that’s true, let’s fix that.” The tall man leans down, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately wrap your arms around his strong, wet shoulders, pressing your chests together as the kiss deepens. 

You can feel your nipples hardening against him, and his hands move to grab at your hips, pulling you even tighter to his body.

Something is beginning to press against your abdomen, and you love that you’re getting him hard already, that he’s as into you as you are into him. 

His palm slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing deliciously. You break the kiss to throw your head back, eyes closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.

“You know the only bad thing about shower sex?” Johnny asks, lips hot against your throat now. “Water isn’t lube, so I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl for me and wait just a little longer while I get you nice and wet for me.”

“I’m already wet,” you insist.

Johnny only chuckles, squeezing your ass harder as he licks at the sweet spot on your throat. “Let me enjoy this, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Really?” you groan. “I never would have noticed, you’re always so PG.”

“I’m not going to be PG anymore.”

“Thank god!” A shiver runs through your body at the idea of what ‘rated R Johnny’ is going to look like- and as he pushes his thigh up between your own, you’re so grateful that you no longer have to wonder, you’re about to find out exactly how dirty this blue collar man can get.

Johnny laughs again, but as he laughs, he pushes his thigh up even higher, making contact with your clit.

“Fuck, I haven’t been touched in so long,” you whimper, immediately grinding down against him.

“Well, you deserve this, you’ve been a very patient, very good girl for me.” 

“I have been,” you nod, rubbing your clit harder against his large, muscled thigh.

“Had options, but you stayed loyal, even when you didn’t have to.” Johnny’s still kissing your throat, and he nuzzles up against your ear, biting your lobe gently. “I feel like those choices have earned you many rewards.”

His words are something like praise- appreciation almost, and you’re thankful that he’s taken into account the fact that you’ve made important decisions to put this blooming relationship first, even when - as Jungwoo said - you had no actual defined loyalty keeping you tied to this tall man.

“I just like you a lot,” you moan, feeling overwhelmed with the possibilities of a relationship with this man- a man who has communicated that he’s interested in something long term, which is such a stark contrast to most of the men you deal with these days.

God, to have hope for a man again- it’s such a foreign feeling.

“I like you too, 304.”

“Johnny,” you groan, “call me something else.”

“I think 304 is cute,” he grins against your throat.

“Please?”

“Okay, baby, I’ll call you anything you want,” Johnny promises, adjusting his grip on you so he can trail his hand up your torso, putting a slight distance between your bodies now so he can cup your breast. His thumb rubs over your hard nipple and you whimper, grinding harder against his thigh. “You are a baby, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

“I could also see you as a bit of a princess,” he muses, pinching your nipple and making you gasp loudly. “Adorable little pretty princess baby.”

He might be overdoing it with the pet names, but you can’t even bring yourself to care- in fact, this overt cheesiness is doing something to you, making your pussy throb as you grind against his wet skin.

“That’s it,” Johnny groans, “I kind of want to watch you get off on my thigh.”

“Yeah?” You swallow thickly, reaching for his hard cock. You’re a little taken aback by how large he is, but you guess you shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been shy so far, not even taking so much as a peek at what you’re going to be working with- and maybe that had been a mistake. You’d been so sure of yourself earlier when you’d told Johnny you could take him without prep, and now you’re realizing how wrong you had been.

A deep moan escapes Johnny as you begin to stroke him, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you cry out- only for his hand to move away, along with his thigh.

You want to protest- only for two digits to press between your pussy lips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in- just playing, toying, moving up to your clit then back down.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“You definitely feel wet,” Johnny muses.

“So finger fuck me?” you suggest, applying more pressure to his cock as you stroke him off.

“Hmm?” He circles your clit teasingly, being so gentle that your body is already practically begging for more.

“Please finger fuck me?” you ask, your free hand now clutching his forearm in desperation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Johnny cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his as his fingers enter your hot core for the first time.

Fuck, his fingers alone are enough to stretch you out and it feels absolutely delightful. 

He starts slow, testing the waters as his digits explore your inner walls gently, but as the kiss deepens so do his motions.

You’re absolutely lost in him, whimpering and moaning- your hips even begin to move, eagerly seeking out stimulus that he grants when his palm presses flat to your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, holding his strong, veiny forearm even tighter.

“Feels good?” he asks, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Feels so good,” you nod, fighting the urge to just close your eyes and enjoy it, while also wanting to stare up at this gorgeous man who is watching you with clear interest.

You take a shuddery breath, trying to focus on stroking his cock, but he makes it more difficult when he crooks his fingers up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking.

“Are you going to be able to stand through all of this?” Johnny chuckles. “That’s the other bad thing about shower sex, it’s a slipping risk.”

“I think I can do it,” you insist, not wanting him to stop his motions for even one moment.

“Just hold onto me tightly okay, but if you start to fall, uh… don’t pull my dick off.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and Johnny joins you with a chuckle of his own.

This feels so natural, so safe- the fact that you’re both giggling during your first sexual experience together is a great sign, and it makes you relax a little more, which only adds to the pleasure that’s starting to throb out from your core.

“You close?” Johnny asks, sensing the shift in your attention.

“Too close,” you nod, swallowing thickly in an effort to control yourself.

“Want you to cum on my fingers,” he tells you. “You can do that for me, right princess?”

“Uh huh.” Your mind is becoming clouded by lust, and it’s making it harder for you to respond to him-

His fingers are moving fast now, pistoning in and out of you with just the right amount of pressure, his palm stimulating your clit in a way that’s just enough-

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge and you don’t feel like slowing down. 

Your eyes close, your breathing becoming haggard as your muscles tighten with anticipation-

“Cum on my fingers, baby,” Johnny groans. “Wanna feel it.” 

With that, you explode, unable to contain yourself anymore as his filthy words vibrate through your entire being like a mantra. The pleasure is intense, your core clamping down on his digits, body throbbing deliciously as you give yourself over to the feeling of it.

Your legs are weak, and you grab Johnny’s forearm tighter, digging your nails against his skin.

It’s the kind of ecstasy that you never want to end, and it’s clear that Johnny’s not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under you. He keeps you steady, working you through your high until your legs are physically shaking.

Only once he’s sure you’re finished does Johnny pull his hand away.

You open your eyes to watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, and an echo of pleasure throbs through your pussy again.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” Johnny tells you.

“Want you inside of me, now,” you respond.

“Hmmm… not yet.”

“What?” 

“You almost just fell over, I don’t think this is the safest place to do this,” Johnny laughs. “Come on, let's get out of the shower, dry off, and I’ll take you to my bed, like I’d planned.”

“Is it really that bad to fuck me here?” you whine.

“One, I don’t want you to slip, and two, I don’t want our first time to be here, you deserve a proper bed, so I can cuddle you after.” 

“You’re such a romantic,” you tease, but your heart swells at the notion of a man actually taking care of you.

“You love it,” Johnny insists.

He reaches behind himself, turning off the spray of water, then, he helps you out of the enclosed space. “Here,” Johnny passes you a towel, quickly patting himself down with his own before wrapping it around his waist, then he begins to help dry you off.

“I can do this part,” you assure him.

“I want to take care of you,” Johnny muses as his palms massage your breasts through the towel, making sure they’re extra dry.

“I think you just want to touch my tits again,” you grin.

“That too,” Johnny laughs.

“Predictable,” you toy.

“You think so?”

“Uh huh.”

In one quick motion, Johnny grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto the washroom countertop, tearing the towel away and discarding it haphazardly as he sinks to his knees.

“I think I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you, you know, to prove how predictable I am.”

You don’t even have a moment to argue, Johnny pushes your thighs open, pulls you to the edge of the counter, and dives into your core with his tongue. 

You immediately latch onto his damp hair, throwing your head back as his mouth begins to work your pussy. You’re still sensitive from having just cum, and the sensation of his lips now wrapping around your clit has your muscles clenching with pleasure already. 

“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the way Johnny’s fingers are digging into your thighs, holding you open for a tongue that has a mind of its own.

You especially adore how messy he’s being. There are no kitten licks, no hesitancies, just a full-on lust fuelled ravaging of your core- nothing in your life has ever felt this fucking good.

You tug on Johnny’s hair roughly, but he’s unrelenting, in fact, you think he kind of likes the inkling of pain because he groans against your clit, licking at you sloppily while his nose bumps your sensitive bud over and over.

For a man who doesn’t do one night stands very often, he definitely knows his way around a pussy.

“Shit,” you moan, louder this time, your muscles tightening more and more-

You’re not used to men behaving this way with you, worshiping your body and putting your pleasure first. To have two back to back orgasms before he’s even taken anything for himself? Unheard of.

You can tell he wants you to cum, can tell that he’s eager for it, and the wet licks of his tongue against your sensitive pussy are ensuring that his preferred outcome happens sooner rather than later.

You give in to the feeling, deciding to relinquish control. If he wants to make you cum fast, then you can cum fast, and all of your attention moves to the feeling of pleasure that’s radiating out from your core.

Your abdominal muscles are tightening deliciously, and you begin to buck your hips a little, trying to ride his tongue while you hold him tight to your pussy by his hair.

Johnny groans again and the vibration of it sends a shiver of delight through your entire body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You swallow thickly, brows furrowing with effort as you latch onto that feeling of euphoria, unwilling to let it drift away- “just like that, just like that-”

He sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, and that’s all you need to explode, your pussy clamping down hard on nothing, squeezing and squelching sinfully. 

You’re gasping loudly, moaning like a whore as your orgasm washes over you in waves- and like your first high, Johnny is just as unrelenting with this one.

He doesn’t pull away, and with so much attention focused on your throbbing clit, it’s almost too much for you to handle.

You begin to push at Johnny’s head, but he’s like a brick wall, unmoving and diligent in his task.

“Oh my god-” your voice is raising with effort, raising with the euphoria that’s threatening to overwhelm you completely. “Johnny- too much-”

This time, he allows you to push him away, and you sink back down against the countertop, chest heaving with effort. Your legs twitch with aftershocks from your orgasm, and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes yet, still lost in the ecstasy he’d just provided.

“You okay, princess?” Johnny asks, and you can sense him rising to his feet, his eyes inspecting you.

“Overstimulated,” you admit, another shock washing through you and making you jolt.

“I got side tracked,” Johnny admits, and you peer out at him from under hooded lids to see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was just a lot,” you assure him, reaching out to gently stroke his forearm. 

“Come on,” Johnny coaxes, lifting you off the sink so he can carry you to his room, “let’s give you a breather.”

He lays you gently onto his mattress, moving the blankets so you can get under the warm duvet.

The sheets smell like him, a manly pine scent, and it makes you groan, burying your face against the pillows while your brain tries to reaclimatize after a mind shattering orgasm.

Johnny joins you, and you instinctively cuddle close to his chest, delighted by the way his large arms wrap around you to hold you close.

“Just give me a sec,” you whisper, but even as the words leave your lips, your hand snakes down to his cock, and you gently wrap your fingers around the thick length.

Johnny chuckles. “Part of me thought you’d be too tired to actually fuck now.”

“Never,” you tell him, although you’re so exhausted from two extreme orgasms that there’s little conviction in the tone of your voice. 

“Take your time,” Johnny assures you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head while you languidly stroke his large cock. Unlike in the shower, however, there’s no lubrication of any kind, and soon, you tire of it.

“Okay,” you tell him, sitting up, “I can ride you.”

“Are you sure you want to be on top?” he blinks in shock. 

“Just to start, just to get used to your size,” you assure him.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You swing your leg over Johnny’s hips, straddling him, and his hands find your waist. 

“Actually, let me grab some lube,” he says, sitting up abruptly. The muscles in his abdomen ripple under the skin, and you’re taken aback by just how beautiful this man is even as he’s reaching for his bedside table.

He pulls out a green bottle, squirting some of the gell into his palm before he grabs his cock.

You kind of love the view of his large hand on his massive cock, stroking up and down-

“Like what you see?” he laughs.

“You’re just so perfect,” you muse.

“That makes two of us I guess,” Johnny grins. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

He’s all lathered up now, and you grab the base of his cock, guiding yourself down on the tip. 

As you sink down even an inch, you groan at the stretch.

He’s covered in lube, and you’re definitely more than lubricated from two orgasms, but fuck- having not had sex in ages only to take the biggest cock of your life is definitely an adjustment for your tight pussy.

“Take it slow,” he assures you, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you steady as you gently sink down further on his cock.

“I’m good, you’re just so big,” you whimper.

Johnny only chuckles at your words, his eyes fixed on the meeting of your bodies.

“Not sure I can take it all like this,” you admit.

“I’ve heard that when a girl is on top, things feel deeper,” Johnny muses. “Don’t feel like you have to take it all right now, we can work up to that.”

“Okay,” you nod, “I’m going to bounce a bit.”

“Works for me, princess.”

You close your eyes, leaning over him and placing your hands firmly on his chest as an anchor as you begin to move up and down. The feeling of his massive cock against your inner walls has your body singing with pleasure already, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good.”

“So good,” you agree with another whimper.

One of Johnny’s hands moves from your hip to your breast, and he begins to massage the sensitive flesh as you ride him gently. The sensation of him tweaking your nipple has you groaning, your pussy clenching incredibly tight around him, which makes both of you cry out desperately.

“Fuck, let me know when you want me to take over,” Johnny tells you, and you get the sense that you might be killing him a little with the slowness of your pace. His hips twitch, and you suspect that he’s doing everything in his power not to madly thrust up into you, which is something you appreciate greatly.

You ride him for a little while longer, and then you give up, legs burning with effort already. “Okay, okay, you can top now.”

You pull off of his cock, and Johnny helps you roll down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

Instead of just getting on top of you, however, he stays on his side and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours while his hand continues to massage your breast.

You groan against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair desperately as his tongue invades your mouth.

He kisses you until you’re breathless, until your pussy is pulsing with desire, only then does he get between your legs, bringing the head of his cock to your awaiting hole.

“If you ever need me to slow down, or be less rough, or anything, just let me know,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as he gazes at your body.

“Just do it, Johnny,” you assure him, stroking his forearm. “Please.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort again, and he slowly pushes the head of his cock into your wet hole, making you cry out. You grip his arm tighter, closing your eyes to enjoy the stretching sensation.

He sinks into you, inch by inch, gently thrusting to get you used to the intrusion.

When he’s almost fully inside of you, Johnny leans over your body, his elbows making contact with the bed on either side of your head so he can be in something of a plank position overtop of you.

You can feel his breath on your face, and you open your eyes to look up at him, your hand moving to cup his cheek while your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

“You can fuck me now,” you tease, grinning at how slow and gentle he’s been up until this point. “Please.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, and just like that, he begins to move.

Each thrust is unbound pleasure, his hips moving fluidly as he gradually increases his pace. His long cock hits deep spots inside of you that have you crying out, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders while your tongues battle for dominance in the most heated kiss of your life.

He’s moaning too, and it sounds so good- making your pussy even wetter as he decimates it perfectly.

You love the feeling of his large body pressing down against your own, his hard muscles are delightful under your touch when you skim your hand along his shoulders.

He’s steadily increasing the power behind each thrust, and now, the bed is beginning to rock with his movements, delighting you even more.

How can this man have so much raw power, but still be so gentle and careful when it matters most?

You might be a little obsessed with him, but as his massive cock hits your g-spot, you suppose it’s no wonder your feelings are growing at a rapid pace.

He has you cock drunk, in a way that you’ve never experienced in the entirety of your life, and you kind of love it.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, breaking your kiss so he can press his mouth to your throat. “I never- never asked about protection.”

“I’m covered,” you assure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “You can cum inside me.”

A deep groan escapes Johnny, and it vibrates through where your chests are pressed together.

“Don’t want to cum like this,” Johnny tells you, “it’s too soon.”

He pulls away, and you whimper when his cock leaves your wet hole. But then Johnny is manhandling you into doggy position, and you let out a moan of pleasure, arching your back and resting your head against the bed.

“You look good like this too,” Johnny muses as he pushes his cock back into you, his hands grabbing your hips roughly. “Always look so good.”

His praise is doing something to you, encouraging you enough to make you begin to move as well, doing your best to match his pace and push back against him with each thrust.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and your moans mingle in the air together.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, railing into you even harder. “So fucking tight-”

“I’m close,” you assure him, “just let me-” you slip your hand between your thighs, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit. The moment you make contact, you feel your pussy contract around Johnny’s cock, and it makes you both moan loudly.

“Yeah, want you to cum with me,” Johnny tells you. “Want us to cum together.”

You don’t respond, too focused on your task as you begin to draw small circles around the sensitive bud.

God, nothing has ever felt this good, to be so completely full, while your clit is receiving attention at the same time-

The tension is quickly building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s clear to both of you that you’re rapidly approaching the edge-

“Here,” Johnny’s voice distracts you, and all of the sudden he’s hauling you onto your knees, pinning your back to his chest with an arm braced across your breasts, one hand cupping your boob like a seatbelt. You can feel his breath on your throat, and you quickly turn your head, seeking out his lips with your own.

His free hand pushes yours aside from your clit, applying even more pressure to your sensitive bud as he fucks into you erratically.

God, you feel him absolutely everywhere. You feel like a doll, suspended in time and space while this absolute unit of a man gives you all of the pleasure you could ever ask for, pulling at your strings like an expert.

He’s groaning more deeply- and with one more rough circle of your clit, you feel yourself come undone. You gasp against his lips, core clamping down on his cock-

A strangled sound escapes Johnny, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he cums with you, coating your throbbing insides with his cum as you both fall off the edge together.

He’s clinging to you in a way a man has never clung to you, and you’re kissing him as if he’s the air you need to breathe. In this moment, it’s only you and him and this feeling of euphoria that you never want to give up.

He fucks you through your high until you’re both a panting mess, and then, he helps you back onto the bed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m going to go get some tissues,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You can only moan happily, inhaling the scent of pine as you cuddle against his pillow.

Johnny returns shortly, and he hands you some tissues to wipe his cum from your core.

“Should we take another shower or something?” Johnny asks, laughing a little at how messy you both are.

“Cuddles first,” you tell him.

Johnny grins, joining you on his bed, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you. “Cuddles first,” he agrees.

You both take deep breaths, and as your body begins to calm down while pressed against his, you know you made the right choice of man in this fucked up, love island-esque apartment complex that you now call home.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was way longer than I intended, which is why it took a minute to be posted, but I hope it was worth the wait!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  In the summer, Johnny’s not just a blue collar rig man, he’s a dude with friends, tanned skin from his obsession with the sun, and a taste for margaritas while sitting on boats between water skiing stints.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of toys, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation, breast worship, use of lube, inklings of pain kink, hand job, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.8k I teaser wc. 100

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

People sometimes talk about a specific summer in their life being ‘the summer of dreams,’ and you never quite understood what could make one stretch of months so significant- but now, living life with Johnny by your side every day, it makes total sense.

In the few months you’ve been dating, he’s done his best to introduce you to friends, but with such a short time in town, it was always difficult to juggle friends, family, and your growing relationship.

Now that it’s summer, you get to see how Johnny is when he’s just being himself.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.8k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

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[boyfhee]

𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗦 ㅤ⠀━━━━━━ ㅤ 엔하이픈

PREC𝒾S . . when you gotta go but they need you closer, right in their arms.

✶ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍ㅤ｡⠀bf ! enha, fluffy fluff >//< ㅤ2O68 ..ㅤㅤ kissing, petnamesㅤㅤㅤread more :3

╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯ㅤ..ㅤ wrote this because i couldn't sleep :D happy reading !!

HEESEUNG

“one last kiss!”

“heeseung, go—” you groan in frustration, although your words are laced with half affection as you try to close the door on him, only for him to stop it by his hands, stepping inside.

you sigh at his smirk, arms crossed while he's putting on his best act, hand over his chest and all, words dripping with mock despair. “you're breaking my heart, angel,”

“and you're overreacting,” you huff, but honestly, you don't mind this one bit.

“one last kiss,” his hands find your waist, backing you up against the nearest wall. he feels your breath hitch, his own heart racing as he leans his forehead against yours and whispers softly. “just one, and i'll leave. i promise,”

it's like you're talking in gazes— yours fixating on him while his travels down to your lips. it only takes a brief second before you find yourself gravitating towards him, your lips moulding with his in a deep, slow kiss.

you gasp when he pulls you closer by your waist, tilting his head for a better angle, arms wrapping themselves around you like a lifeline. it's something between a longing hug and a needy kiss, and you're not sure if he's going home tonight.

JONGSEONG

it happens when he extends his arm to reach out for you.

cold. and he groans softly.

jongseong is a heavy sleeper and the only thing that can wake him up in an instant is you, or rather— your absence.

he opens his eyes, squinting them at your sleeping figure which is all warm & snug under the beige duvet. the sound of bedsheet shuffling fills his ears as he extends his arms and wraps them around you, pulling you flush against him.

“seong?” you mumble, voice dazed by the sweet slumber that was now interrupted by his sudden hug.

“nothing baby, go to sleep,” he whispers softly, pressing a soft kiss over your cheeks. you're not convinced but honestly, you're too sleepy to implore further.

so instead, you shift even close to him, arms wrapped around his waist, legs tangled, your warm breath fanning against his bare chest— a drowsy smile finds its way to his lips.

he could get used to this.

JAEYUN

“can't you stay longer?” you should've seen it coming, honestly. his constant need to hold your hand, soft caresses on your knuckles like feather on water while he was driving, the grip on your hand that keeps getting firmer as the car approaches your house— he's not ready to let you go yet.

“baby, i promise we'll meet again tomorrow,” you attempt reassuring him as he pulls over at your place, gently taking your hands out of his and cupping his face.

“yes but tomorrow,” he melts in your touch, lips jutted forward in a pout. “way too long”

it's hard to say no when he's being so desperate, giving you his best puppy eyes that are sparkling with pure love and yearning, the pout being cherry on top.

you can't help but laugh at his insistence, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. “you're insatiable,”

“can't blame me, i have a beautiful girlfriend,” he knows he's got you right where he wants. it's in the way you let him press fluttering kisses on your cheeks, allowing his hands to pull you into a warm hug by your waist. “how am i supposed to live without her?”

and you know your next words are going to be a lie but you end up speaking anyway, sighing mockingly. “just five minutes more,”

SUNGHOON

sunghoon would never admit to being a clingy boyfriend even though his actions say otherwise every time you two are together.

“get up now,” you tell him for the fifth time now, hands ghosting up his hair and moving to his shoulders.

“mhm,” he hums in response, or perhaps it's discontentment with the way he holds you a little tighter, nuzzling his face in your stomach. “keep doing that,”

“doing what?”

“the thing you were doing with my hair,” you can feel his words brush against your skin, your top slightly lifted up as he draws random patterns on the bare skin of your waist. “it feels nice,”

and you can't help but comply, your fingers getting lost in his soft brown locks. the scent of his shampoo draws you in and your lips curl into a smile when you feel him relax further under your touch.

“don't stop, please,” his voice is quiet, laced with a silver of desperation, his need for you to be close. he only hugs you tighter, a breathy chuckle erupting from your mouth when he buries his face in your belly.

and sunghoon is definitely not a clingy boyfriend, but you don't mind if your mornings start a bit late just because he wants you to hug him and play with his hair a few minutes more. “i won't,”

SUNOO

your boyfriend has been following you around wordlessly for a while now,

he finally musters up the courage to reach out to you, hugging you instantly, afraid of looking at you in the eyes. “you're mad at me,”

“i am not, sunoo. let go,” you try to reassure him, hands on his arms as you gently push him away with a snicker, only for him to hug you tighter.

“you aren't even looking at me,” he's pouting now, once starry eyes now drowning in guilt as they refuse to let go of the sight of you. “ it completely slipped my mind. i swear it wasn't intentional.”

and sunoo isn't the one to forget plans. he makes them, he's the first one to get ready. it's unusual, rare, when he misses a date— your first time in two years and perhaps that's why it stings a little more than you had expected, but you do understand his urgency towards work.

you nod, caressing his cheeks, lips pressed in a thin line. “i know and it's okay,”

“really?” he wants to believe you, he hopes you mean it, and if you don't, he's ready to try a million times to make it up to you. “i love you,”

you don't get a chance to respond, words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue when he starts pressing butterfly kisses all over your face.

“never—” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “—ever—” and then on both your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose. “—forget that,” and lastly, on your lips.

JUNGWON

“do we have to go?” he asks with almost pleading eyes, the whiney voice only lurching your heart further when you look at him.

“yes,” you respond with a gentle kiss on his forehead before pulling back, your hands still cupping his face. “before our friends notice our absence,”

“i hate keeping this a secret,” he doesn't break eye contact when he says this, kissing both your palms simultaneously before his hands go back to your hips, wanting to have you in his lap just a little longer. “just wanna show you off, darling,”

it leaves you breathless when he tugs you closer to him, the lack of space in the storage not helping you with keeping your sanity together.

it's dark, you feel his warm breath fanning against your face. you almost lose all your reasoning before composing yourself. “we'll tell them soon,”

“promise?”

and you nod, caressing his cheeks gently under your fingertips. “promise,”

“okay, now let me kiss you more,” he doesn't let you respond, immediately brings his lips back to yours, and when you hear a knock on the door, your lips kiss-swollen, lipstick smudged on his— you realise you can't keep it a secret anymore.

NI-KI

“riki let go—” you try getting away for the hundredth time, hands on his chest— your best attempt at stepping away and once again, he manages to pull you in against him.

“shut up,” he mutters against your hair, pressing butterfly kisses before bringing his head down to your ear, whispering. “you talk too much,”

the hint of irritation in his voice is betrayed by the softness of his touch, in the way he gently takes your arms and wraps them around his waist, as if they belong there.

your head is tilted all the way up, chin resting on his chest and he looks even more handsome under the streetlight. “if my parents find out, they're killing both of us,”

“then i'll make sure to find you in my next life too,” and you don't know what has gotten into him— even he is surprised, but none of you say anything, letting the silence speak for your hearts.

“cheesy,” you whisper against his hoodie, melting in the warmth of his embrace in the cold night, biting back a smile when you hear him whisper a quiet 'i love you' in the crook of your neck.

[moonstruckme]

I loved your sky Remus fic!!!!! And ok it got me thinking as someone whose super extroverted and honestly a progressional yapper I would love to see a fic of the first time Remus flusters reader like may be it's on accident like he's just so sweet and earnest and he gives her a genuine compliment (something beyond just like ur pretty) and she gets super shy and flustered and he's just there like 👁️ 👄 👁️ omg what is this role reversal and just so cute fluff

Thanks for requesting <3

shy!Remus x extroverted!reader ♡ 941 words

It’s a cool morning, and the drink in your hand is cold enough to make you want to walk quickly on the little nature trail you and Remus have decided to meander down. The breeze licks over your skin, carrying moisture and hinting at rain later in the day, and it pinkens Remus’ cheeks along its path. Though, it’s possible that’s not the breeze’s fault. 

Remus’ cheeks tend to be pink, you’ve found. His friend James swears it happens most often around you, but you’ve rarely entered a room where Remus is to find him not already looking at least somewhat flustered. To be fair, his eyes are usually trained on where you’re entering, too. Maybe he’s only very attuned to the sound of your footsteps. 

Remus’ face gets pinker now, when you direct your smile at him and bump his elbow gently with yours. You nod to his drink. “Do you like it?” 

“Yeah.” You can hardly hear his voice over the wind whistling through the trees. He clears his throat. “What is it, again?” 

“A toasted sesame matcha.” 

Remus nods, peering at his drink. “And what’s yours?” 

“An ube matcha. Want to try?” 

You give it a little stir with your straw, passing it to him. Since you’ve known him, Remus has drank almost exclusively black tea. No milk, no sugar. Lately, you’ve decided to take on the fun project of getting him out of his comfort zone. He’s nice enough to let you without complaint. Unfortunately, he’s so nice you don’t think he’d tell you if he hated what you gave him to try. 

Remus eyes the purple liquid at the bottom of your cup warily. “Do you mind if I…?” He touches your straw. 

You laugh. “I hardly think we need to be worried about swapping spit at this point. Yes, you can use my straw.” 

His shoulders pull tight with embarrassment at your spit-swapping comment, and he ducks his head, sipping. 

“Mm.” 

“Mm?” you echo hopefully. 

Remus’ eyes flit to yours before they jump away, bashful. He hands you back your drink. “It’s good. It’s…sweet.” 

“I tend to like my matcha sweet,” you say. “Ube, strawberry, raspberry, anything really. But I thought you might like something earthier. We can swap if you want.” 

Remus refuses, agreeing that he prefers the nuttier flavor, and you begin telling him about why you’d thought that might be the case. You ramble on about flavor profiles and the artistry of making matcha and the value of a refreshing morning beverage until you see a familiar tree and realize you’ve gone around the loop of the trail already. You look over, and Remus’ cup is empty. 

“Oh my god.” You let out a breathless laugh. “I’m so sorry.” 

“What?” He looks confused. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve not stopped talking for probably twenty minutes!” 

“That’s alright.” Later, you’ll realize how rare it is for Remus to speak to you as freely as he is now, without even a hint of sheepishness in his voice. “I don’t mind.” 

“Your matcha is long gone, and I’m not even half done with mine.” You shake your head at yourself, exasperated. “I need to shut up.” 

“No, don’t do that,” he says, almost desperately. “I love it when you talk; I like listening to you. You have such a lovely voice.” 

There’s a flicker of something in your chest. It spreads outward, sending warmth to your cheeks and fingertips. 

“Do you really think so?” You don’t recognize the softness of your own voice. 

“Of course I do,” Remus says. “It has so much personality in it. And sometimes you get more excited as you talk, too, which is…well, it’s very cute.” 

Oh. Well. You’re no better than him, now, ducking your warming face towards your drink under the guise of taking a sip. You feel all flummoxed and fluttery inside. 

“Dove?” 

“Hm?” 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm,” you hum down towards the trail. “Yeah.” 

“Did I upset you?” Remus’ voice has returned to its usual shade of diffidence. He bends, trying to see you. “Was it…oh.” 

A tiny shock goes through you when his eyes catch yours, causing you to swallow a sip of your matcha wrong. You choke, coughing. 

“Fuck, shit.” Any other time the vulgarities uttered in such a soft tone would make you laugh, but for once you’re too flustered to try and fluster him. Remus pats your back hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“What’re you doing to me?” you wheeze. 

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“I know, I just…” You fight the urge to fan yourself despite the cool breeze. Is this how Remus feels all the time? It can’t be. “You can’t say things like that.” 

“What things?” 

“Sweet things like you just said.” 

Remus is amused now. You can feel it. Sure enough, you look up to see a bemused sort of smile tilting his lips. “I’m not allowed to be honest with you? How would you like me to be instead?” 

“I don’t know,” you say miserably, pressing your free hand to your face in a futile attempt to hide from him. “Just not that. I’ll die.” 

“Alright, dove,” Remus consoles you. He takes your hand, tugging it gently away from your face to twine your fingers with his—a bold move, for him, but he must think you need it. “I won’t tell you I like your voice any more.” 

“At least give me some warning.” 

“Whatever you need.” 

You take a breath, trying to relax. “You’re a lot nicer about this than I am,” you admit. 

“Yeah? Well, I have some experience on the other side of it.”

[dilf-docs]

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!reynaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT 1K

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own bussiness?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

[christinescupofcoffee]

Multis. Although… I do enjoy the stray one shot every now and again.

A bit of both, and i’ve found that I’m most relaxed when I write without a plan (or at the very least having an idea as to where it’s going but not really having a destination. All my fics the last couple of years have been like this).

I take my time with chapters now—last few times I’ve gone on ao3 for any reason, the damned thing crashes (really, I’m worried about that place. I can’t expect it to last for the next four years the way it freaks out every couple of days). I worry about things like censorship, too: so getting my fics saved onto my laptop, I’m free to write and continue these stories at my own pace. My laptop is offline, too, i.e., no distractions. Sure, I can’t share anything, it’s a hassle, but… I kind of like it. It’s giving me all the 2016-2018 vibes when I was in the dark, away from the world, living in my own world alone. Everyone was screaming and yelling and carrying on about the political landscape and I just tucked myself away into my own imagination. I kind of want to do it again, if I’m honest.

I feel so raw saying this, raw and vulnerable, but… I have always been in love. I have always found myself crushing on someone. I have always written from the heart.

Honestly? *looks around* not really. It can be very useful, helpful, inspiring even. But… I approach this the same way I approach the culinary world and art: I bake a cake or make a drawing the same way I write a long fic, and I simply cannot divorce my heart from my work. People like to gripe about this sort of thing until the cows come home… no one has no idea how it makes me feel. Yes, I know my grammar can be complete shit at times, and yes, I am very verbose, but that’s how I roll. No need to shame me and make it seem like I just committed a mortal sin by accidentally omitting a word.

Nope. No beta, we die like Titans of Creation.

It has to “speak to me”, if you will. Seasons Grey works with third-person perspective because you don’t know everything about Christine and Alex is a mystery. Blood & Chocolate and After the Gold Rush work with first-person perspective because it’s intimate. Xenon Dreams works with the alternating first-person because all five men have different experiences, and it’s intimate; conversely, All That Glitters has the alternating third-person because it’s more adventurous. Now it’s Dark and Dark Months of April and May use first-person because it’s unreliable. Quarter After Twelve has the what I call “2 whole eggs, 3 yolks” perspective (Andy and Zero’s arcs are first-person; Richie, Tina, and Allison are third-person), as Andy is traumatized, Zero is stuck in one place, Richie and Tina are both still waters, and Allison is a broken man and therefore detached.

Beginning (what I get for being an Aries 😅)

I try to—and you know, I would be a lot more adept at it if people didn’t bitch about it ad infinitum. I was thinking about this the other night when SNL50 was going, too: fandom has changed drastically just in the last few years alone, in a sense that fans not only treat it like it’s business but they spend more time whining about the most trivial things (lack of comments, getting criticism, this weird unhinged approach to fandom as a whole) than doing anything useful or creative, god forbid.

“Meanwhile, once she had come downstairs, Alex had already showed up outside of her apartment in a snug dark gray shirt and low-slung black long shorts. His shoulder-length black hair was almost smooth and nicely combed back: there was a slight curl right over his shoulders, and his skin looked as smooth as porcelain. He looked a bit fuller, rounder, and softer right then, especially with the shade cast down from the building upon the crown of his head and his shoulders. He lifted his sunglasses up from his face to show her his eyes.” (latest chapter of Dark Roots of Earth, book two of Seasons Grey)

Genuinely don’t want to do that because… you know. ao3 is more mental than me the week before my period starts. But… With Strings Attached, the Beatles fic that inspired pretty much everything long from me. There’s a Light, the Pearl Jam/grunge fic that I still think about even 8 years after its completion. My friend Amanda wrote a two-parter that inspired Midnight Oil (drawing a blank on the title). You Know Your Rights on Wattpad (can’t remember the author’s name), probably the best “Hole-vana” fic I can think of. The entire Gojira tag on ao3. There’s a couple of Alan Partridge fics on ao3 that got a good laugh out of me. Love in Exile and a couple of Alice In Chains fics that wake up the kinkster in me. FOOLS GOLD (from Cazio).

I have a complicated relationship with feedback. I welcome it forever, but because I had to go through English and writing classes, peer reviews, teachers who ran on assumption that I knew what I was doing, the whole thing about me writing from the heart, and the fact that I tend to attract negative attention (I’ve often felt that people have an inexplicable pathological hatred of me), I never expect accolades. In fact, I fully expect everyone to hate it.

Be descriptive. I like bending this one and injecting poetry into things, even if it doesn’t seem to make sense.

This has been a learned skill on my part because when I first got into fiction writing, it was hard to not get melodramatic with things. I’m an emotional person and the other thing that’s worked for me is a cause and effect situation as well as pulling from my own scars: in Seasons Grey, Christine lost her best friend at a young age and sort of buried it. I wonder how everyone is going to react to this tidbit of her life, especially Alex—especially since he reminds her of Chris. In stories like All That Glitters and After the Gold Rush, I just sit and think of angst. What would happen if Jed and Octavius suffered an irreversible falling out. Where would Phileas go if he just started thinking and realized what was happening, both with Monique and Passepartout and back home in England. I feel like I made those three more human with this, too.

My smut is so wordy that even I can’t believe it. I have to set the mood as well as be spontaneous with it. It’s genuinely isolating when I look at smut in other places, too, like I can’t just do 1200 words, I have to lead into things and I have to be real with it all, too.

A bunch 😅 As the Seasons Grey. I started writing it in early 2023 after doing kinkmas during a blizzard: it basically just grew out of this fantasy I have about being a source of comfort for the man.

Exercise. Draw. Read. Garden. Bake and/or cook. Watch a movie or TV.

I think there was a couple where I came up with the title after I started writing simply because anything else I came up with sucked (fever in, fever out was an example of this; so was Have Your Cake and Eat It). Like with perspectives, titles usually speak to me, and they’ll come in song form or in sayings. “xenon dreams” is a weird one, though: xenon is a byproduct of radioactive iodine, which is found in fallout. That whole fic had this dreamy, blue color scheme whenever I thought about it; xenon is blue/indigo when electrolyzed.

“Alternate Universe”

A love of food. A feeling of heart throughout. This overreaching feeling of vulnerability within, a tenderness. Writing because I have a crush and no one knows how to react to it. Lately, I’ve been throwing in little call backs to my other wips in my wips, like it’s a spiderweb.

Yes, but I don’t see it happening any time soon, though.

Second-person perspective. Done to fucking death at this point and something about it just irritates me to no end, like it ruins my immersion right from the beginning.

Write when you can (instead of “write every day”, because sometimes you just can’t write every day, damn it).

“Avoid overused words” (look no further than “said”. Why. Why would I avoid “said”.) “Use active voice” (I’ve found a lot of power in being a little passive or submissive, if you can believe it. Conversely, I have had the most complaints from my active voice).

now it’s dark. My last adventure before the pandemic. Joey himself even loved it!

fever. Homeboy was 1.1 million words!

Most favorite: just seeing my internal worlds come to life. Least favorite: sharing it with everyone.

2-3k is considered a good day to me. 4-5k is “I got snowed in/it’s too fucking hot out to do anything” word lengths.

Ha, you really don’t want to know.

Yes.

Characters. Maybe that’s another reason why my fics tend to be entrenched in heart?

Amanda. Aviva Rothschild (author of With Strings Attached, i had to look her up really quick). Drawing a blank on the name of the person who wrote Love in Exile.

Of course!

Hopefully not like my homeskillet Oscar Wilde.

Their darkness exists in all of us to some degree.

Nervously with a pit in my stomach, a devastating feeling of existentialism, and a side of ginger ale.

Yet another thing that speaks to me.

Yes… but I don’t have the best experience with them, though. I tried to get commissions with my art years ago, and… there’s a reason why you aren’t seeing them.

(see above)

bro, if you make fanart of Alex and Eric on the lawn outside the apartment complex at sunrise, of Erik and Dragon talking, of Isaac flipping out on Richie, of James and Richard at breakfast, of Phileas napping, of Octavius and Ahkmenrah getting slack jawed drunk, of Jane and Vanessa with their braids… I’ll be happy.

If I really like something, I’ll read it several times.

The last fic I left kudos on ao3 was a compilation of Strawberry Shortcake one shots: underrated fandom and it was snowing outside, so I was in a cozy mood. The last fic I bookmarked was a one shot from Ideal Home: it was erotic and very tender.

The latter. I really only put them through pain to ground them.

I have no beta but I omit words all the time.

I want to make you laugh then break your heart, and then vice versa—such is the Steve Coogan school of writing.

Emotionally charged idyllic action

2. Any more than that and I’ll drive myself crazy.

🤷🏻‍♀️

All the time and I don’t deal with them.

1.1 million, AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

4.9 million, I think?

I want to. Believe me, I want to. I’m way more responsive on instagram, though, mainly because I can see you on my lockscreen. There’s none of that nerve-racking “oh, shit, what is it now” that comes with getting an inbox notification.

Definitely a writer. When I read, I go way outside of the fandom (like Strawberry Shortcake, old Top Gear, lesser known literature and theater, anything Steve touches). I’m not afraid to go into unknown territory, too, like Around the World in 80 Days with Steve and Skinwalker Ranch. Maybe that’s why Bandom writers can’t stand me?

Really, just writing the thing.

Hands down, Alex. He’s the love of my life. I just found him on a whim, in a bad part of history, and I was drawn to his plume of silver and his intellect. He brings out the sensuality in me, too, more than Joey or Lars.

🤷🏻‍♀️

Wait until it’s finished. Again, I’ll drive myself crazy.

Writing without question.

No, and yes, I would. My mom wrote fics way back in the era of message boards and mailing lists, back in 2001-2002, so she gets it.

Can’t say I have.

I like doing it and… referring back to fandom changing for the worse, is it just me or do fics, especially rpf fics, seem kind of mean-spirited now. Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I read some rpf where it felt like the author actually likes the guy involved, aside from the thing Amanda wrote. There has to be some heart here.

Painful but my god, do they keep you engaged.

“Coming inside” someone. Screaming. “Good girl.” Tight pussies—bitch, no one’s pussy is that tight. Weird euphemisms for body parts, too. When you’re reading about your kink and something happens that turns off the whole mood or doesn’t gel with your approach. The author claims to be sex-positive but there’s something off about the whole thing, like there’s no way that they are. Goes without saying I don’t like a ton of smut.

“Good boy.” Foreplay. Tension, like… you’re anticipating it and you don’t know if it’s going to happen or not.

Bringing it to life. Cozying up all snug next to Alex, Eric, Joey, Lars, Krist, Richard, James, Steve, all my boys under the warm sun away from the world…

I don’t think about it anymore.

Independent ideas. I guess this is the other reason why I hate kinktober other than feeling rawer than a frozen chicken?

Everything.

Black Diamonds. I got called “disgusting” for that, if you can believe it.

Totally embarrassed. I’m enthusiastic but every time, I’m faced with stupid reactions that it makes me uncomfortable.

…I’m not sure?

Chronological. I kinda have to.

It’s just weird.

probably the writing style.

Get to know your fic writer!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

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Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

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Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

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Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

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Share a snippet from a WIP

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Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

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You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 

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[moonlightwritingf1]

One of the girls | LN4

⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ Based on the song One of the girls by The Weeknd

⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 2.3k

⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, spitting in mouth, mean Lando?

Based on this request.

The rain tapped a restless rhythm against the windowpane of Y/n’s flat, a sound that mirrored the chaos in her mind. She stared at her phone, the screen glowing with Lando’s latest text: I’m outside. Her heart skipped a beat, her fingers trembling as she typed back: Come up.

They’d been playing this game for weeks now, ever since they’d met at a mutual friend’s party. Lando had been magnetic from the start, his charm effortless, his cocky smirk enough to make her knees weak. But it wasn’t just his looks or his fame as a Formula One driver that drew her in. It was the way he looked at her, like he could see right through her, like he knew exactly what she needed—even when she didn’t.

The knock at the door was firm, commanding. She opened it, and there he was, leaning against the frame, his leather jacket dripping with rain. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“You’re late,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her, trembling just enough for him to notice.

Lando smirked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Traffic,” he said, his voice low, dripping with that Bristol accent that sent shivers down her spine. “But I’m here now.”

He didn’t wait for an invitation. He never did. He moved with the confidence of a man who was used to getting what he wanted, his hands finding her waist as he backed her against the wall. Y/n’s breath hitched as she felt the coolness of the wall press into her back, the heat of his body searing her front.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

She nodded, unable to speak, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. He chuckled, a deep, sinful sound that made her stomach flip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her skin just hard enough to leave a mark.

Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the wall as he kissed her, his hands sliding under her shirt, his fingers rough and demanding. She’d never felt like this before, so completely consumed by someone else’s touch. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and she loved every second of it.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but he heard her. He always did.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching hers. “What do you want, Y/n?” he asked, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. She’d never been honest with anyone about what she really wanted, but with Lando, it felt different. He wouldn’t judge her, wouldn’t make her feel ashamed. He’d take what she gave him and give her exactly what she needed in return.

“I want…” she started, her voice trembling. “I want you to control me. I want you to…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but Lando’s eyes softened, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Say it,” he urged, his voice gentle but firm. “Tell me what you want.”

Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard before finally whispering, “I want you to take control. Make me yours.”

His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.” 

He stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. “On your knees.” 

Her chest tightened, but she obeyed without hesitation, sinking down until her knees met the cool wooden floor. Lando stood over her, his presence commanding, his shadow engulfing her. He placed a hand under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. 

“Open.” 

She parted her lips, her pulse racing as she saw the molten desire in his stare. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, and spat into her open mouth. Her breath caught, but she didn’t flinch, swallowing it without breaking eye contact. He chuckled, a low, approving sound that sent heat pooling between her thighs. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his hands sliding into her hair, gripping tight. He pulled her head back, exposing her neck, and she gasped, her body trembling with anticipation.

His lips crashed against her skin, biting and sucking until she whimpered. He dragged her to her feet, spinning her around and pressing her against the wall. His hand moved to her throat, his grip firm but careful, tightening just enough to make her gasp. She arched into him, her back pressing against his chest as he leaned in, his lips grazing her ear.

“Tell me to stop. Say it, and I will,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. 

She shook her head, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Don’t stop. Please.” 

His grip tightened slightly, and she moaned, her eyelids fluttering. “That’s my girl,” he muttered, his other hand sliding down her front, fingers roughly pushing past the fabric of her jeans.

She cried out, her body arching off the wall as his calloused fingers pressed harder, circling her clit with a rough, deliberate rhythm. Her hips jerked against his hand, desperate for more, but he held her pinned, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to make her gasp. “Scream for me,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly, the command dripping with authority.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice already breaking, the pressure building mercilessly. Her fingers clawed at the wall behind her, nails scraping against the paint as she struggled to find purchase.

“Louder,” he growled, his lips brushing against her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to send a shiver down her spine. His fingers quickened, the pad of his thumb pressing directly into her clit with unwavering focus. Her legs shook, her knees threatening to buckle, but his other hand kept her upright, his hold on her throat steady. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.

The sound tore from her throat—raw, unfiltered, her cry echoing off the walls as her body coiled tight. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “Let go.”

Her orgasm hit like a shockwave, her body convulsing as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and unrelenting. He didn’t let up, his fingers still working her through the peak, grinding against her clit until she was writhing, her screams dissolving into broken whimpers. The room spun, her vision blurring as her legs gave out completely, but he caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against him.

“Every bit of it,” he reminded her, his voice harsh but satisfied, his lips trailing down her neck, biting at the tender skin he’d already marked. She shuddered, her body still trembling, every nerve alight with oversensitivity. His hand slid out of her jeans, slick with her release, and he brought it to her lips, smearing it across her mouth. Her tongue flicked out instinctively, the taste bitter and sweet and wholly his. He watched her, his eyes unreadable, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough, his approval sending a fresh wave of heat through her. She was his, and she knew it.

Her legs still trembled as Lando lifted her from the floor, her body humming with the aftershocks of her release. He carried her to the bed, her back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. His dark eyes locked onto hers, piercing through the haze of arousal that clouded her thoughts. His hands were rough as he stripped her, fabric tearing under the urgency of his movements. She didn’t protest, didn’t even flinch. She wanted this—needed it—more than air.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust as he stood over her, eyes raking over her exposed body. “So fucking perfect like this.”

She reached for him, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with his belt, but he swatted her hand away, the sharp sting making her gasp. “Behave,” he warned, his lips curling into a smirk. He undressed slowly, deliberately, letting the tension build until it was unbearable. She writhed beneath him, her breath coming in shallow pants, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly. She obeyed without hesitation, her thighs falling open, exposing herself to him completely. His hand came down hard on her inner thigh, the sharp slap reverberating through her body, and she cried out, her hips jerking off the bed. “Stay still,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he leaned over her, his breath hot on her skin.

He spit into his hand before wrapping it around his hardening cock, stroking himself slow and deliberate. Her eyes fixated on the way his fist moved, the way his veins bulged under the strain. She wanted him inside her, needed it more than anything she’d ever known.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Lando, please.”

He gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Do you want it rough, love?” he taunted, his voice a dark promise. “Do you want me to take everything?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her body trembling with need. “Take it. It’s yours.”

He didn’t give her a moment to prepare, slamming into her with one brutal thrust. She screamed, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, stretching her to the point of pain. He growled, a feral sound that made her pulse race, and his hands moved to her throat, tightening just enough to make her gasp.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his hips snapping into hers with unrelenting force. “Take it. All of it.”

Her vision blurred, her body caught between pleasure and pain as he pounded into her relentlessly. His grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her air, and she arched into him, her nails raking down his back. “Fuck, Lando!” she choked out, her voice raw and broken. “Don’t stop!”

He leaned down, his lips crashing against hers in a savage kiss as he slammed into her harder, deeper. She could taste herself on his tongue, bitter and sweet, and she moaned into his mouth, her body spiraling out of control. His hand moved to her neck again, his fingers pressing into her pulse point, and she felt herself swaying on the edge, her body trembling under his relentless assault.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness as he bit down on her shoulder. “All mine.”

She nodded frantically, her mind too far gone to form words. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her body convulsing around him as he continued to thrust into her, prolonging the pleasure until she was screaming, her voice breaking under the intensity. He didn’t stop, his pace unrelenting as he chased his own release, his grip on her throat tightening until she was gasping, her vision darkening at the edges.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. “Please.”

With a guttural groan, he finally came, spilling into her with a force that left her shaking. He collapsed on top of her, his grip on her throat easing just enough to let her breathe, but he didn’t let go completely. His eyes met hers, dark and possessive, and he brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. “Always so fucking perfect for me,” he muttered, his voice rough with satisfaction. “My girl.”

She lay there beneath him, her body still trembling, her heart pounding in rhythm with his. Tonight, she was his—completely, utterly, and without question. But she wasn’t naive. She knew it didn’t mean more than this. She wasn’t the girl he’d write songs about, or the one he’d introduce to his family. She was just one of the girls in his orbit, a secret pleasure he craved when the world became too loud. And she was okay with that.

Lando rolled off her, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He didn’t speak, just traced a lazy finger along her collarbone, his touch light but possessive. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his for something—anything—that might’ve hinted at more. But there was nothing. Just that same dark, unreadable gaze that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“Is this it?” she asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. “Just tonight?”

He smirked, leaning over to brush his lips against her ear. “Tonights don’t have to end, love,” he murmured. His hand slid down her body, fingers grazing her hipbone before gripping it tightly. “You know that.”

She did know. It was the unspoken agreement between them—the thing she’d learned to brace herself for, even if it left her hollow when the lights came on. She wasn’t his one, and she didn’t have to be. All she had to do was be there when he needed her, to give him whatever he wanted without question. To be one of his girls.

Her hand found his cheek, her thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “I’ll keep the secret,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You don’t need to love me. Just don’t let go.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with approval. “Now get some rest. You’ll need it.”

She closed her eyes, her body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion took over. The weight of his arm draped over her was both comforting and suffocating, a reminder of where she stood in his world. No commitment, no promises—just this. And for now, it was enough.

[neptuneiris]

Only You | Part Two

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)

summary: time has passed, a new semester begins and the phantom memories of him come back to your mind on a specific day that makes you rethink your whole idea to let him back into your life.

words: 12.4k

previous part • my masterlist

okay before you read, i want to clarify one thing 😬 i know summer vacations were mentioned, but i came up with a last minute valentine's day idea so i will mention winter vacations now.

i know it doesn't make sense, it should make sense but i would have to change the whole first part, so this second part will be delayed. so please give me time to correct the first part, I will do it as soon as I can. i hope you don't mind and enjoy the chapter a lot 🙏🏽 thank you so much for reading!

AEMOND POV

The vibration of his phone makes him look away from his book.

The faint sound echoes in the library and with a serious look on his face, he immediately takes his fingers to turn off the device, not wanting to be disturbed now by whoever it is. Right now his projects have him so pressured and frustrated that he simply doesn't want any distractions.

But as he looks at the screen, he stops. And he reads the name of the person calling him: Cerelle.

She's not just anyone. So before he knows it, he quickly gets up from his seat and heads for the doors, picking up.

“Hey.”

He doesn't hear her immediate response, what he hears instead are whimpers and low sobs.

He pauses for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He listens more carefully and she sniffles, letting out a small sigh only to cry again. Then he lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair, already imagining what's going on.

“Cerelle.”

He says her name in a low, soft tone, which makes her finally speak.

“I-I… I'm sorry,” she says in a shaky, low, vulnerable voice, ”I know you're probably busy and I didn't want to bother you. B-but…” her voice breaks.

She needs him.

He clenches his jaw tightly, annoyed, frustrated but mostly worried. He hates when she's like this. He hates seeing her and hearing her cry. He hates when he knows she's like this, again, because of his idiot brother.

“What happened?”

She sniffles and cries again, failing to form words at that moment. And then it's the signal for him, to go back inside the library to go get his things.

“Can I see you? P-please?”

“Don't worry. I'm on my way.”

She lets out a sigh. Maybe of exhaustion or relief. He doesn't know. He doesn't really care as he quickly heads off campus, car keys in hand.

“Thank you, Aemond.”

The drive to Cerelle's house feels longer than it really is. It's not the first time she's called him in that state, crying with a shaky, broken voice. And he also knows it won't be the last.

When he arrives at her house, she receives him at the entrance and immediately hugs him, clings to his strong body crying disconsolately in his arms and he holds her instantly.

He always does.

It doesn't even need to be said, he already knows, because he's heard that story many times before. It's nothing new. Yet he hates it.

He hates how Aegon makes her cry to the point of turning her into this, a heartbroken mess with his cruel tactless words and empathy-less behavior. And he finds it harder and harder not to lose control.

But he doesn't do it for her. Because she asks him to just hold her and not leave her alone.

They both go up to her room in silence, where there is no one in the corridors except for a few figures of the employees slipping by.

They both lie down on her bed and Cerelle clings to him again, hugging him tightly and Aemond pulls her tighter against him, wanting to make her feel comfortable and safe.

He strokes her hair, a repetitive and reassuring gesture as he lets time pass. Her tears slowly soak his shirt, but he doesn't care. Until she speaks, her voice barely a whisper.

“You really weren't busy when I called you?”

He rests his chin on her head and makes a slightly tighter grip of his arms around her body.

“No,” he lies, his tone soft, knowing he would give up any commitment to be there for her.

She lets out a small sigh and inhales the scent wafting from his clean clothes and also from his cologne, so masculine and comforting. His fingers continue to trace soft patterns in her hair, while his other hand draws comforting circles on her back.

“Why am I not enough?”

She asks him, raising her gaze to his, tears streaming down her cheeks and a look full of doubt and pain.

He lowers his gaze to her instantly upon hearing her words and frowns slightly, not understanding how she could think such a thing, when she is the most beautiful and perfect girl he has ever met.

He shakes his head slightly, running a hand down her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

“Don't say that. You're enough. He's the one who's not worth it.”

His hand slides down her back in an automatic gesture, slow and soothing. She sighs against his neck, relaxing slightly and Aemond feels his own breathing grow heavy.

“I don't know why I keep doing this,” she whispers, almost to herself.

Something inside Aemond moves and something inside him ignites.

Hope.

Hope that she is saying that, because she has finally opened her eyes. Because she has finally understood, that Aegon will never change for her.

That everything she is going to receive from him, will only be a moment of comfort to again make it clear to her, with his cruel words, that everything is casual.

Has she finally changed her mind this time?

Has she finally had enough of the situation this time?

Will she finally choose and love him this time?

Hope, illusion, longing, everything is mixed up in him. Happiness, even. And she only ignites that spark in him more, by embracing him with a firmer grip. As if she's afraid he'll leave. But they both know he's not capable of it.

“Stay with me, please. I don't want to be alone.”

The plea strikes his heart. Aemond closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the anger, frustration and helplessness dissolve into the thick air of the room, to make way for all those positive feelings he's having.

“You know I won't leave,” he promises her.

He feels the tickle of her nose nuzzling the side of his neck and of her warm breath crashing against his skin in one of his most sensitive areas.

Aemond lets his nose sink a little deeper into her hair, inhaling of her sweet scent. And then, she tilts her head a little, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

He tenses instantly. He can't help himself.

His breathing becomes ragged, as his hand still on her back, clinging a little tighter.

“Cerelle,” he murmurs her name.

She continues.

Another kiss, firmer this time, just above his collarbone. Then another, moving up his neck, leaving him breathless. His whole body reacts to the touch, to her closeness, to the way she clings to him desperately, needing him.

And Aemond knows that, they shouldn't. That he, more than anyone else, should be strong. To remember that, when the moment is over, she will come back to him like the other times before. To his brother.

But her words and his thoughts, clinging to him that maybe there will be a chance after this, make him not want to stop. And they remind him, he's never been strong when it comes to her.

Then, in a slow movement, he tilts his head, seeking her face.

She looks up at him, her eyes still reddened, with traces of tears on her cheeks. But this time, there is something else in her gaze. Something that destroys him and revives him at the same time.

Desire.

He lifts a hand and slides it up to her face, carefully, devotedly. His thumb brushes her lower lip, and he feels the tremor in her skin, in her breath. And then, she is the one who closes the distance and Aemond surrenders. Surrenders as he has always done with her.

He reciprocates her kiss. He kisses her.

Slow, deep, taking his time. And she settles her body even more against his, pressing herself against him, needing this, him. Her fingers sink into his hair, deepening the kiss, needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to touch her everywhere and make her his.

And that's what he does, hopeful at all times inside him.

However, he shouldn't have let his thoughts let him get carried away. Because this is nothing new either. Cerelle repeats the same words over and over again at his most vulnerable moment, igniting hope in him. And in the end, there is no change and the pattern repeats itself.

As always, he is there.

It is here, in his arms, where she always ends up. But he knows it's not where she wants to. Because he's her fucking comfort, the temporary refuge.

And worst of all, he allows it, always. But deep down, they both know that, her words are worthless and eventually, she will come back to him. To his brother.

So the only thing he can do, is to hold her as long as he can.

He stays with her all afternoon and has the idea that she will tell him to stay like this for the rest of the day, just the two of them. But then one of the Baratheon sisters calls her and the party at the Martell house looks like a good distraction.

Aemond says nothing as Cerelle tells him they can spend another night together, so he just says goodbye and goes to his apartment, not being in the mood to actually go to any party.

But just knowing that she will be there has him getting ready to be able to spend more time with her. Not directly but to be around her, to see her and take care of her from a distance.

And the hope is still inside him.

The hope that her words have been real. That their moment together this afternoon has meant something. That she has finally understood and finally sees only him.

So he heads to the party and when he arrives, Aegon is already there, as are his other childhood friends. He greets everyone, doesn't really talk much, just has a beer, lights a cigarette and begins to relax, when his gaze inevitably begins to seek her out.

And when he sees her, she is beautiful.

Her figure, her face, her hair, everything about her is the only thing that stands out for him in the whole place. And when he sees her, smiling, talking to people, laughing and dancing… he can't take his eyes off her.

She's the one interesting thing, the one thing that shines the brightest, the one girl he catches his eye and who he could look at all day long without getting tired of it. He just wants to hold her, hug her, kiss her and never let her go.

She is perfect. She has been since they've both been kids.

But then, someone else comes into the picture. Someone catches her eye. Someone draws her in. Someone makes her disconnect from all the people around her to focus only on that one person.

Someone who is not him. It is never him.

Because it is Aegon. It's always Aegon.

The same guy who has made it clear to her multiple times that he doesn't want anything serious with her. The guy who has always made his intentions clear from the beginning, that everything to him is just casual, even drawing the line at every turn and the one who is hard on her to make her understand that he doesn't want her, not really, making her cry.

And yet… Cerelle has hope.

It seems like the fight they had didn't even happen. She keeps allowing him into her life. She keeps allowing herself to get involved with him like that, to hold on to the hope that he's going to change for her.

And then, they both disappear.

Something that does not go unnoticed by Aemond, because it is nothing new. For him, nothing is. In fact, it's another constant pattern in his life. And he sees it every time.

The two of them fight, Cerelle looks for him in tears, he comforts her because he can't afford to reject her and because he couldn't do that to her. Then he hopes that she will finally leave Aegon behind but she comes back to him and they fight again, making him see how the cycle doesn't end and repeats itself over and over again.

However, he has not gotten used to it. A snort leaves his lips as he watches the two of them walk up the stairs together, as he shakes his head slightly and averts his gaze, unable to believe this is happening again.

He clenches his jaw and takes a long swig from his bottle, with a serious look full of bitterness.

The constant ringing and vibrating of his phone catches his attention, annoying him. Irritated, he takes it out of his pocket, looking at it briefly without focusing on the missed calls he has and all the messages he hasn't read.

He only focuses on the messages he just received from Cregan.

Dude, are you coming?

We're all here.

He frowns slightly, having no idea what he is talking about. He also decides not to respond, simply puts his phone away again and then focuses on the stairs.

He doesn't know exactly how long it takes him to get a little distracted, unable to relax any longer knowing that in one of the rooms is her with his stupid brother.

Kissing her and touching her, making her make those sweet sounds that come out of her mouth that he has so often had her make for him.

The mere thought of the two of them together, like that, when it should be just him, makes him rage and make him clench his bottle tightly.

Until finally, Aegon emerges from one of the rooms, buttoning his breeches and with his messy hair. He stumbles a bit and has a smirk on his face, returning to the party as if it were nothing.

It's obvious he doesn't care about her, because that's all he's interested in, a quick fuck, leaving her behind like she's worthless.

Then Aemond heads to the bedroom, upset and annoyed.

He enters and sees her fixing her hair in front of the mirror. But as soon as he crosses the door frame, she immediately sees him through the glass and freezes for a moment.

Aemond watches her seriously as he closes the door behind him and leans against the wood, not taking his intense gaze off her.

Then several minutes pass, long minutes in fact, where neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other.

She is too embarrassed to say anything.

And he's an idiot for thinking, again, that she had finally understood that Aegon will never change for her. So he speaks first when it's clear she won't.

“Are you serious? After today, after he made you cry, you just come crawling back to him?”

She lets out a long breath, tired. Because it's a conversation they've had before, countless times. They always have it.

“Aemond—

“Why do you keep doing this?”

He demands to know, stepping in and walking towards her.

“Why do you let him hurt you again after proving to you over and over again that this is all he wants you for?”

She turns to him, looking at him seriously and guiltily. Of course, not for sleeping with Aegon. No. But for what happened between the two of them this afternoon and for him finding out, again.

“You don't understand—

“What don't I understand?” he interrupts her instantly, his voice serious and full of reproach, hurt, ”Are you really so blind that you don't see the reality of things? Can't you see that he won't change for you?”

His words make her gaze harden. And soon, she too uses a tone of voice similar to his, matching his temper.

“You don't know that.”

“The whole fucking world knows that, Cerelle.”

“This is none of your business.”

He parts his lips, genuinely surprised and confused.

“What?”

Cerelle falters for a second at the sight of his expression. But only for a moment, to again place a serious and firm gaze, watching him with some remorse as well.

But it's more the fact that she wants to make everyone around her, and herself as well, believe that she has hope with Aegon.

“Whatever happens between your brother and me… it is none of your business, Aemond.”

He watches her silently for a moment, incredulous. He shakes his head slightly with a small bitter smile, unable to believe what she is doing.

“It's none of my business, you say?” he repeats and watches her completely serious, ”So it's none of my business when you come looking for me after he makes you cry and ends up treating you like shit?”

That one hurt.

He sees it in her look as she finally drops her tough-girl armor. And that should have made him feel better, by proving her right, but the reality is that it doesn't. He hates seeing her like that, with her crystal eyes and her gaze lowered, saying nothing more.

He lets out a long breath and walks towards her, closing the distance between them. He lifts his hands and holds her face, watching her with all the adoration in his gaze. He watches her with love, with weakness and tenderness.

But also hurt, because she still doesn't understand. Because she doesn't see him the same way he sees her.

“Listen to me…” he says low and soft, stroking her smooth cheek with his thumb, ”I wouldn't make you feel that way. Ever. And you know it.”

Cerelle watches him sadly and remorsefully, shaking her head slightly to raise her hands and place them on top of his.

“Aemond—

“No, please, listen to me,” he interrupts her immediately, tightening his grip on her face, ”Why don't you just forget about him and try it with me?”

He tells her, no, begs her.

“Just…forget about him. You know we can work together.”

“Aemond, we've already talked about this—

“He's not worth it. He doesn't deserve you. But I do. I'd give you everything, everything. The whole fucking world if you ask me to,” he insists.

“Aemond—

“Please, just—

“You're not him!” she exclaims loudly, stopping him.

For an instant, Aemond stands completely still, as if those words have pierced his chest. His breath hitches and his lips part slightly.

He blinks slowly, analyzing her, looking for something in her gaze, some doubt or some hint that she is not meaning it. But there isn't.

The words get stuck in her throat, as Cerelle watches him with remorse and sadness as she notices his broken expression that he so desperately tries to hide, breaking his heart over and over again.

Then she purses her lips and lowers her gaze, as if she hates what she is about to say. But still, she says it.

“I know it's hard to understand. I wonder the same thing too, I wonder why I can't love you too,” she says exasperated, frustrated, ”Why do I keep doing this to myself. Why I can't choose you. But it's just… I can't help it and you…” she shrugs, shaking her head with a sad look, ”You're not him.”

Aemond watches her silently and finally his gaze recomposes itself, a serious and bitter look, the one he shows everyone. He clenches his jaw and releases her, taking a step back.

Then he laughs. An empty, bitter laugh. He shakes his head as he averts his gaze from her and runs a hand over his face before looking at her again, his gaze hard.

“Then do me a favor…

He says after, leaving the rest of what he wants to say up in the air as she looks at him caught between guilt and resignation.

“Don't come looking for me again after he tells you to fuck off again,” he finally says.

Cerelle closes her eyes for a moment, as if his words were a certain blow. Aemond steps back again, watching her, seeing what she is thinking and what she will actually do, just as he does.

“But you will, won't you?” his tone is bitter, mocking, but deep down it's just pure pain, ”As if I don't know what this is like. Us,” he points between the two of them with his finger.

He shakes his head in disbelief, with a restrained fury that threatens to boil over at any moment.

“I don't know why I'm even saying this either. Because we both know you'll be cruel enough to call me back…” he says, his gaze darkening. “And I'll be an idiot enough to be there for you again.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to protest, to say something, but she doesn't. She has nothing to say, because she knows he's right. So she can only say his name, in supplication.

“Aemond—

He lets out a hollow laugh, another one, in disbelief. Stopping her. And then he exhales wearily, his posture no longer one of fight, but of surrender.

“It's always the same thing.”

Cerelle's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't let them fall. She just watches him, with a pain that is not enough for him.

“I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head, with a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“No, you're not. You're not sorry.”

He doesn't let her say anything else. He doesn't either, because he's already tired and has nothing more to say.

So he simply turns around and walks out of the room slamming the door, annoyed, angry and clenching his jaw helplessly. But the truth is… he can't be mad at her.

Even he doesn't believe everything he has said.

Because he knows, just like Cerelle, that if she calls him, he'll answer and go to her to comfort her the second. Always.

And that's what makes him feel most upset of all. That he can't turn her away. He can't ignore her. He can't detach himself from her because he loves her, since childhood. But she's never going to love him back, because of his brother.

After that, maybe he should have gone to his apartment to get his shitty day over with. Or maybe he should have gone to clear his head somewhere else. He knows he should have gone somewhere else, except the pub.

You still remember it all too well.

You remember his touch, the feel of burning skin, his kisses, his breathing and the hypnotic way he held you under his spell.

So many moments in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room, in his bathroom and in your dorm room. Moments you don't think you can leave behind so easily, when all you want is to live them again. To experience that feeling again, even if it was just between the two of you.

But you also remember that night, at that party, when you found out about her.

A party at the fraternity of Aegon Targaryen, Aemond's older brother, which was at it's peak. The crowd moved to the rhythm of the music, which echoed off the walls, with the air charged with the smell of alcohol, perfume, cigarettes and weed.

Outside, in the huge garden, students gathered around the illuminated swimming pool, while inside the huge house the atmosphere was more tense and noisy.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter, with a glass of water between your fingers, feeling the sweat on your skin after having danced with Alysanne and Sara for more than an hour.

You caught your breath and rested your feet a bit, while they continued dancing through the crowd. You let out a long breath, looking around briefly.

Aemond was also there, with Cregan and Jason. The three of them had arrived at the party together. But, as it is always in public, he kept his distance from you.

You were used to it.

Or at least that's what you always told yourself in every situation like that when you realized it wouldn't be any different.

You bit the inside of your cheek and watched him from a distance. He was there, calm and relaxed smoking a cigarette with the guys. Like you, he was just watching the people around him as they talked to each other.

Nothing was new.

You looked away to grab your phone to check the time when a voice in your direction caught your attention.

“Y/N! How good it's to see you!”

Aegon, with a half-empty bottle in his hand and a cocked smile on his lips, told you that he's already drunk, but at least he could still hold his own.

“You want one? I think you need one.”

He told you as he stood next to you. He held something out to you and you looked at it, it being a brownie.

“Really?” you looked at it between amused and expectant.

“Come on! It's a party!”

“No thanks. I don't want to eat that,” you told him pushing it away with your hand.

“It's just a chocolate brownie,” he told you innocently.

”Weed more like it.”

He tried to convince you, when suddenly, his gaze focused on something in the crowd and his smile came hooked again.

“Oh look! My dear childhood friends.”

You watched him slightly confused and amused, watching as he walked towards a group of people quickly, stumbling.

And simply because you had nothing better to do, you watched to whom he was going. And the recognition was almost instantaneous.

Alysanne told you about how Aemond or his family, rather, have friendships with people who are just as important as they are in the world of business management.

So you recognize the children of those important people, sons and daughters of the elite, the Baratheon's, Tyrell's and Lannister's. As Aegon said, his childhood friends.

You didn't think much of it, at first. Clearly he invited them to his party and they attended. Completely normal. However, someone caught your attention.

You watched as a girl from that group, tall, impeccably dressed, beautiful, with her bright red hair falling in perfect waves down her back and wearing a dress that fit her figure perfectly, after greeting Aegon, walked over to Aemond.

Normally you wouldn't have minded, she is his childhood friend.

But… you see how she approached him so naturally, with that confidence that only someone like her can have. She kissed him gently on the cheek and then said something to him, leaning slightly towards him and placing her hand lightly around his arm.

And Aemond did not pull away.

There was no look of discomfort, no expression of indifference or seriousness. In fact, he looked relaxed, even amused and attentive to the conversation. There was a half-smile on his lips, barely visible and one he rarely let show.

You felt a flip in your chest, something thick and warm that then settled in your stomach like a stone.

You had no right to feel this way. You knew perfectly well. He doesn't belong to you. He has never promised you anything. But still, that image turned your stomach in a way you couldn't control.

Something about that interaction felt different to you. Like there was a story there, something you didn't know.

Then Alysanne came to your rescue from that moment, taking you with them again to dance. You thought about staying where you were, but you needed a distraction. So again you joined the impromptu dance floor.

However, you couldn't help but look in their direction again, wanting to see everything. But it was impossible to see it because of the partitions of the house.

And when you had visibility again, Aemond was gone.

You searched the crowd for the next few long minutes but nothing. It was as if he had vanished. He wasn't with Cregan and Jason. Nor with anyone you knew. So you stood there, expecting to see him at any moment, but nothing.

Then, you saw Aegon, drunk and very happy, enjoying the party. And without thinking, you went to him, because he is the only one you can ask without him suspecting anything. You didn't want to be obvious with your friends. And surely tomorrow he would forget all about it.

“Hey, Aegon,” you grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him towards you.

“Hey, Y/N! What's up?”

“Hum… have you seen Aemond?”

“Aemond?” he repeated, dragging out his words, “Mmm… no. I don't think so.”

You were about to speak when he turns to a girl walking by, with that characteristic red hair.

“Hey T-Tyshara,” he grabbed her arm, stopping her, “Hey, tell me something…” he said, clearly drunk as that girl gave him an annoyed look as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my little brother, hm?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Who? Aemond?”

”Yeah, that one.”

She sighed, releasing from his grip.

“I think I saw him with my sister a while ago,” she said nonchalantly, ”I don't know. They left, I think.”

“What sister? Cerelle?”

“I don't have another one, you idiot.”

The girl left, giving him a look of displeasure, while you felt something inside you stop for a second. And then, Aegon let out a laugh, leaning against the wall so he wouldn't lose his balance.

“Oh, my little brother…” he said amused, ”He never gives up.”

You felt a sting in your chest and watched him completely attentively and slightly confused.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

He watched you with a lazy smile.

“Oh come on. Don't tell me you didn't know. It's so fucking obvious.”

“What's obvious?”

He laughed again, shaking his head.

“Well… Cerelle's not ugly, you know? She's beautiful. But she's not my type. She's too perfect, always wanting to be the perfect girl. And she always wants to be close to me, which annoys me.”

You frowned, not believing for a second that he was talking about that girl… Cerelle.

“I've turned her down, many times. Though, of course, we've had our moments,” he said with a smile and meaningful look, ”But she wants more. And I… I don't like that,“ he let out a dramatic sigh, ”Oh but Aemond…” he smiled amused, ”Aemond adores her. He's been in love with her forever. And she… let's just say she accepts him, but she's never wanted him in the same way.”

Suddenly, everything around you kept moving. People laughing, drinking, dancing, having a good time. But you, you were disoriented. You watched Aegon intently, only listening to the echo of his words.

And Aegon kept talking, oblivious to the rigidity of your expression and your tense posture.

“He's always there, following her around like an idiot. And she, she just likes his attention,” he said nonchalantly, ”Anyway, too bad. I can't do anything for him.”

You didn't react. You didn't say anything. You just nodded and Aegon walked away, stumbling away, while you stood alone in a corner of the party.

In that moment you knew where Aemond was and with whom. In that moment you understood the changes in his attitude, why it didn't feel anything like before.

And even though logic told you that you should end everything, whatever you had with him and that you should stop it before you hurt yourself more… you didn't do it.

On the way back to your dorm, the pain was there, weighing on your chest. And after that night, things didn't change and you understood better.

Every time there was a party hosted by Aegon, the pattern repeated itself. Cerelle would appear and at some point in the night, Aemond would disappear and then so would she.

But there were also times when, in the middle of those same parties, when Aemond was distant and serious, and she would suddenly appear, something in his expression would change. His mood would improve. Her shoulders would relax, her gaze would soften just perceptibly.

You stayed in your corner, danced with the girls, laughed with the boys, kept your smile on your face and let the night go by without showing what you felt.

You kept telling yourself that you shouldn't care and that you can't claim him because he and you are nothing.

You are not special. You are not different. You are just someone who is there, when he needs you. When no one else saw him, when he could let his guard down without fear of being judged.

And yet, you didn't leave him. You didn't want to. You couldn't. Because deep down, a part of you still hoped that, someday, he would see you as something more.

But that day, it never came.

Until he asked you to go to Dragonstone with him.

It had been a long week. With exams and final projects due, neither of you had time to rest and see each other. It was a stressful few days, with a lot of worries and responsibilities. Until finally the two of you made some space and he visited you in your dorm room.

You had missed him. So much.

You had only been able to talk by text. Rarely did he or you call each other. And finally the two of you managed to release at least a little stress before returning to the stressful reality, which wasn't over yet.

So you enjoyed the moment of holding him, of his arms around your body pulling you close to him, giving you that peculiar and divine warmth that only he can give you.

Both of you are exhausted. And for now, you can only be like this, in each other's grip, in your bed. His fingers gently and slowly caress the skin of your shoulder, while you have your face buried between his neck and chest, inhaling his delicious scent that makes you feel protected and comfortable.

Just a few more weeks and we are finally done with this semester.

You had thought then, so you could go back to the routine of before, of you in his arms. Unless he… had plans for that winter break.

You opened your eyes and stared at a mole on his shoulder specifically, thinking about it. You didn't know if you should bring up that topic, but the doubt lingered in your mind and so did the curiosity. So you decided to ask him about it.

“Will you be leaving for the winter vacations?”

You asked softly, with your nose touching his jaw, looking at a specific spot in your room.

He didn't answer for a moment, while still continuing to make those invisible lines on your skin with his long, pale fingers.

“Hm… probably,” he said in a low, husky voice against your head.

His response should not have disappointed you. You know he deserves it more than anyone else. He kills himself to get the best grades and to maintain his excellent grade point average that he should enjoy a nice, relaxing vacation.

Yet it did. Because that meant you would only have him with you those last few weeks of the semester.

“What about you?” he asked you later, ”Do you have plans?”

“Mmm… no. Not really,” you confessed.

That must have surprised him, because all his friends would be leaving King's Landing. The only thing they had been talking about, was the winter vacations.

“Why?” he asked you genuinely curious.

“Maybe I'll visit my mom and siblings for Christmas and New Year's,” you said vaguely, not really having it prepared, “And I'll come back to spend the rest of the vacations here. But I don't know,” you ran your hands down his bare back, pulling your body closer towards him if possible, ”Where will you go?”

He let out a long breath, at the same time he brought one of his hands to your cheek and lifted your gaze to him, as he lowered his to you.

“Dragonstone.”

Your eyes met his, as his thumb stroked your cheek slowly and gently.

That electricity you felt when you were with him, in that moment manifested. Neither of you spoke anymore and his lips brushed yours, as he continued his caresses and watched you as if he wanted to memorize every faction of your face in his memory.

Your breaths mingled and you loved the way your bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly.

Then, he kissed you. Slowly and precisely.

You reciprocated the kiss, as his mouth moved over yours firmly, unhurriedly. One of his hands went down to your bare lower back, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine, as you leaned closer to him.

You sighed against his mouth and wrapped your fingers around the base of his nape, drawing him closer to you, feeling that slight shiver run down his spine each time he exhaled against your skin.

Your lips barely parted for seconds before they met again, hungry, insatiable.

Aemond's lips slid to your jaw, then down your neck, marking a path with his warm, electrifying breath.

“Come with me.”

He said to you suddenly in a low voice, almost like a whisper against your skin, but clear enough for you to hear and open your eyes.

“What?” you said, thinking maybe you had misheard.

“Come with me.”

He repeated, never failing to mark your skin and never failing to make you sigh with every touch.

“Where to?”

You asked, your voice barely audible between your soft gasps. And Aemond didn't answer right away. Instead, he kissed you again, more intensely this time, before answering you.

“To Dragonstone.”

The kiss stopped for an instant. Not because you wanted to break away, but because his words left you momentarily breathless.

Dragonstone.

It wasn't just a vacation destination. It was his home. The island where he grew up, the place he always returned to when he wanted to get away from it all. And now he was asking you to go with him.

You couldn't move. You just watched him slightly surprised, definitely not expecting that. Instead, you were expecting him to take it back or tell you he didn't mean it.

But he just looked at you with the same intensity as always, with that indecipherable gleam in his blue eye. His hand went up to your cheek, outlining your jaw with his thumb, waiting for a response.

But instead of speaking, you kissed him again, smiling big against his lips. You felt happy, excited and illusioned because you had hope.

That must have meant something. Asking you to go with him, to that ancient and wonderful place, his home, must have meant something.

Even knowing about Cerelle, you had hope.

You have distanced yourself from your group of friends.

With the new college semester, things have changed a bit in your life.

Stricter teachers, more important and difficult subjects, more responsibilities and more pressures leading up to your graduation next year.

You still talk to them, in fact the group chat is more active than ever and you've seen them individually or in duos between classes to say hello and catch up a bit.

They still hang out in the gardens, as usual, even though most of them don't share many classes together anymore. You talk and see more with Sara and Alysanne, that's not changing at all.

The difference is that you don't share any classes with anyone and the times are more reduced between classes, except for some free hours in which you don't coincide with someone of them or the girls.

And when you say they… you don't include him.

He didn't come back to look for you since that day, when you came back to the city and he was waiting for you in front of your door. After you came back to make it clear to him that you don't want to have anything more to do with him, until now your wish has remained.

You have seen him a few times since then, from afar. Walking through the campus, you suddenly spot that distinctive silver hair in the distance blending in with the crowd.

But you avert your gaze instantly, not wanting to look any more than necessary even though it's probably Aegon. You just didn't want to know.

And you've only seen it once directly, days after the new semester started.

You were still having trouble finding your new classrooms. The directions were a bit confusing having not frequented other buildings you were used to.

It was raining. You remember it well.

And you were rushing up the stairs, already ten minutes late. When suddenly, as you turned to continue up the stairs, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw legs in front of you in your line of sight.

You raised your gaze to apologize, as the two of you would have collided because of your speed. But as soon as your eyes took a direct look at that distinctive, bright blue staring back at you, you froze.

It was him.

And he seemed just as surprised to see you.

However, he didn't move either. Nor did he say anything. He just looked at you.

It was like going back to that day, in your residence. The rain was still pounding on the windows of the building and the hallway was almost empty. Only the distant echoes of footsteps and voices filtered between you, but at that moment everything disappeared.

You swallowed hard, unable to move, with everything that happened hitting you like a wave of memories. Your chest began to rise and fall with deep breaths.

And he, he was looking at you in an intense, burning way.

It seemed as if his mind was working at full speed, as if he was choosing what words to say carefully. As if he knew that anything he said could break what little was left between you.

And then, that's when you saw it.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't frustration. It wasn't resignation. It was a silent, desperate plea.

Talk to me.

Tell me you really don't want me anymore.

Tell me you hate me.

Tell me something.

Anything.

But you couldn't.

A lump tightened your throat, the pressure of his gaze was too much. Your heart pounded and you didn't know what to do, with every memory invading without stopping your whole mind.

However, you didn't let your thoughts and memories block you any more than necessary.

Even though he was looking at you like that, you didn't let it affect you anymore and quickly walked around him, putting enough distance between the two of you to avoid even a brush and continued on your way, leaving him behind.

That was the last time you saw him.

But that encounter, only made you couldn't stop thinking about him for the next few days.

Fortunately you haven't run into him again. And you hope it never happens. Or at least not soon. You know it's best to just move on, let go of what you both once had and stick with as much of the good as the bad.

However, he has his moments.

Vague, unexpected moments when he comes back into your mind and you remember it all. Memories of what you both went through together. Though you always don't think too much about it.

It's not something you decide to stay with all day. Then you go back to your projects, your mind gets busy and you forget about it.

One day, though, you're suddenly thinking and remembering everything about him. Too much.

It's not something you think about in a few minutes or a few hours. No. That stays with you all day long. And you can't help it. The nostalgia, the moments, the memories, it all comes back to you.

You wonder at all the things that could have been different. Of what would have happened. Questions and illusions that keep you awake even at night.

And the next day, the memory of all that was and all that could have been, is present on Valentine's fucking day.

Great.

You think as you look around you with a serious stare at all those girls with bouquets of flowers in their hands, stuffed animals, balloons and details walking around the campus.

You didn't even remember and just today your mind reminds you of him too.

Fortunately you only have three classes today, two hours each. Honestly it could be worse, since your other days, except today on Fridays, start from nine in the morning and end until seven.

You think positively that your hours will pass quickly. You just have to pay close attention, keep your mind busy and the hours will fly by.

But of course, this day is not in your favor. The hours go by incredibly long.

Even some of your classmates enter the classrooms with beautiful bouquets of flowers and details. You also see boys with flowers in their hands, among other details that make you roll your eyes and groan internally.

Everything is so beautiful, so pretty and so ideal that you want to be one of those girls. You also want to be given a bouquet of roses.

But no. Today you are a spectator.

And when your classes are finally over, you feel a little pathetic walking across campus back to your dorm with your hands empty compared to the many girls around you carrying their gifts.

So you pick up your pace, wanting to get to your room as soon as possible not wanting to see any more of this.

You greet some girls you meet at the entrance to your dorm, both holding a rose in their hands and head towards the stairs, when a voice stops you.

“Y/L/N!”

You turn around and notice Miranda, the woman who works as the receptionist at this residence. You frown slightly and head towards her desk, as you rarely speak to her.

“Yes?”

“They left something for you,” she lets you know.

The frown on your forehead furrows further, confused.

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. It says your name.”

You shake your head slightly, since you don't get anything. And if you do, whether it's from your mom, which has been very few times, she lets you know, always.

So you wait expectantly and she finally lets you see it, lifting it slightly in the air to place it on the table in front of you.

Your breath catches the instant you see it.

With your lips parted, completely surprised and in disbelief, she hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But not just any flowers. They are hydrangeas, your favorite.

White and purple, your favorite color, all together they make a beautiful flower bouquet for you.

You gently run your fingertips over their petals, admiring it and not being able to believe that this is for you. Even for a moment you think it might be a mistake, even though they are precisely your favorite flowers and colors.

But Miranda is right. There is a small card tied to the bouquet that says your name.

But who gave this to you?

“Thank you.”

You say to Miranda, taking it in your hands and arms once you come out of your surprise.

And you quickly try to recompose your reaction, as you didn't want to look like a girl who has never received flowers in her life or who isn't used to such details on days like this.

But too late, you've already made the impression.

You go up to your dorm room and leave the bouquet on your desk. Having no idea who sent this to you. But then, a person comes to your mind.

Is it possible…?

No. Absolutely not.

The idea is ridiculous. It can't be. You only think about him because you haven't stopped remembering him for two whole days now and it just can't be.

And now seeing the little card, you don't want to open it.

What will you feel? Happiness or disappointment if it's not him? You don't know. And you don't want to find out.

But as you look at the card, curiosity and uneasiness only take over you more and more. You stare at it as if you could burn it with your gaze, nervous and unsure.

And once your patience is worn out, you finally take it and open it, simply reading it without further ado, wanting to know who it was.

When then, your breath catches again and your heart skips a huge beat.

I know it's too late now, but this was what I was supposed to give you on your birthday. I regret that day and the day you came back. I didn't express myself the right way and I didn't mean everything I said to you. I still think about you, all the time. Only you.

Your throat closes.

You read the words over and over again, surprised, wanting to make sure you're getting the message right, not getting it wrong.

But it's as clear as day. It's him. It's definitely him.

Your fingers squeeze the note, feeling the tremor in your hands and beginning to feel your emotions begin to invade you.

Your mind flashes back to that day, your birthday. To his voice, to his gaze. To the way every word he said to you tore you up inside. To the way you ended it all. And to the way he tried to get close to you afterwards. But now… this.

You don't know what's worse.

You return your gaze to your flowers, so beautiful and so perfect, with a sad look.

You once told him that these flowers are your favorite. Just once. And you thought he wasn't even paying attention to you. But this is confirmation that he did, he remembered.

I still think about you. All the time.

You close your eyes and drop heavily onto your bed, bringing a hand to your forehead and letting out a long breath, then stare at a blank spot on your ceiling, doing nothing.

He is still thinking about you. And worst of all, you haven't stopped thinking about him either.

But now, what should you do?

You sit up slowly, feeling the stiffness in your muscles, the restlessness in your chest. You look at the flowers again, their delicate white and purple petals spreading before you.

He still thinks of you.

Your mind repeats, but… what does that really mean?

He says he's sorry, he regrets, but is it enough?

Words and flowers can erase everything that happened? You should unblock him and thank him for the gesture? You should talk to him? But what is going to happen with Cerelle? He is choosing you but he is still going to keep her?

You don't know anything. And you don't know if you want to know.

Part of you wants to hold on to this, wants to believe that there's something still between you, something worth saving. But the other part, the part that still remembers the pain, forces you to stand firm.

You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair as your gaze returns to his note.

Maybe you should ignore it. You should pretend you never received it.

But the problem is, now that you've read it, now that you know Aemond is still there, in the distance, thinking of you… you can't pretend you don't care.

But you don't know what to do either.

Two weeks have passed.

Two weeks since you received the hydrangeas and that note that has kept you awake at night.

Two weeks in which your life followed the same course. Your classes, your projects, even outings with your friends have gone on as normal.

Two weeks in which you haven't made a decision. Or actually, you haven't been able to.

And every time you find yourself alone, your mind goes back to the same old question: what should you do?

But you never have the answer.

You know it's not an easy decision. And you don't want to take it lightly because you don't want to make the wrong one.

So you've put it off, telling yourself you need time. But that time has only led you to be thinking about him almost all the time. His memory is not just an echo in your mind, but something constant.

And oddly enough, you started seeing him more frequently on campus. From afar, never too close, whether it was in the hallways, in the gardens, common areas or leaving one building while you were entering another.

His silver hair always gave him away. But he didn't see you. That's the difference. He doesn't notice you. And you feel like the universe is mocking you by constantly putting him in your path.

You wondered if it was a coincidence. You wondered if you should do something about it all. And every time the doubt appeared, you ignored it, convincing yourself that the right thing to do was to move on so you could think better of it.

But in the end, you didn't make a decision.

And it seemed like you finally had, when you found yourself with your gaze fixed on the screen of your phone, staring at the 'unlock' button on Aemond's contact.

You thought about doing it, sending him a message or even calling him, giving him a chance to talk. But after staring at the screen for who knows how long, completely unsure and biting the inside of your cheek too hard, you'd get frustrated and put the device aside, really not wanting to make the wrong decision.

He hasn't looked you up since Valentine's Day either. He must have done it, right?

Who knows, maybe to try again to talk to you. But he didn't, because he knew you would probably reject him and not give him the chance.

You let out a long breath, feeling like this is all torture. You haven't been fully focused in your classes, you've fallen behind on some projects, you haven't prepared enough for your exams and… you don't know what the fuck to do.

Until finally, one day, sick of it all, you made a decision.

The decision wasn't sudden, but the moment you realized you couldn't avoid it anymore was.

You know it can end badly or it can end well. You have no idea which it will. But you will when you finally do something about it.

So you text Cregan, asking him what time Aemond usually goes to the library and he tells you without a problem. The library is the place where you know you're bound to find him, so once your classes are over around the time he's supposed to be there, you head over to him.

Maybe you should have texted or called him before?

Your nervous mind tells you as you walk, without stopping. You watch curiously as it is raining again, having no idea why it is always raining when something related to him is happening.

But you don't care.

You hold your coat against your body, protecting yourself from the cold, but nothing could protect you from the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Every step brought you closer to him, and with every meter you walked, the certainty of what you were about to do became more real. You're so nervous. You don't even know exactly what you're going to say to him. It's been so long since you last spoke to him. And yet, he still has this effect on you.

When the entrance to the huge library is finally only a few meters away from you, you feel like your heart is definitely going to burst out of your chest. But before you regret it, you push yourself to walk through those doors, knowing it's now or never.

You feel the immediate change in the atmosphere. The sound of the rain becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional low murmur of students sitting at tables or between shelves.

You move among them, hands tucked inside your coat pockets to keep them from noticing that you're shaking. You slowly walk around the place, looking in every action, trying to find that silver hair.

Until you see him.

Obviously it's not hard at all. And again, you freeze, just watching him from a distance.

You can turn on your heels and walk away, pretend you've never been here and forget it, leave things as they are. He wouldn't even notice, because he hasn't noticed your presence and doesn't feel your gaze on him.

So that's the easiest thing to do. Avoid hurting yourself, protect yourself, in case this is a very bad idea.

But the truth is, you can't keep fooling yourself.

You really want to do this.

You want to clear the air once and for all. You can choose to continue if it's good for you and what you really want. But if not… then finally end it all as it should be.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs along with courage. You press your lips together, still having your gaze fixed on him. And then, cautiously, you take the first step, then another, another, and another. Until finally you are only a few feet away from him.

He hasn't noticed you yet. But you have no doubt he will soon. And you don't want it to be awkward, so you have to talk to him, call out to him. Nervous, your steps are a little slower, but sure, towards him.

You open your mouth, you're about to say his name when suddenly:

“Aemond.”

But you don't say it.

Someone else says it behind you.

You watch beside you and immediately that red hair appears in your line of sight, walking quickly towards him and catching his attention, as well as yours.

You stand still, watching as she walks towards him, with every plan you had in mind now simply forgotten. And then, he sees you.

He parts his lips, slightly surprised, you don't know if it's because of you or her, but his eye is fixed on you, watching as you had every intention of speaking to him, of heading towards him.

And then, just as surprised, he watches Cerelle too, right in front of you. Not understanding anything. But you do.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew it, but you convinced yourself you could handle it. But now, with her in the middle, as she has always been, you feel your heart sink in your chest and you suddenly feel very small.

Discomfort grows in your chest and suddenly your hands can't stop shaking, feeling clumsy and heavy.

And you don't want to stay here, watching as he's going to choose her, again.

You bite the inside of your cheek and try to control your overflowing emotions, staring at the ground, that you don't even realize he's looking at you.

And when you give him one last glance, you see his attentive expression, surprised and with something else. Something you can't figure out because your mind is too busy telling you to leave. And that's what you do.

You spin on your heels as quickly as your determination crumbles and walk away without looking back.

You walk through the library doors and the cold rain air hits your face, but you don't stop. You just want to go to your room, to forget all of this, to finally put it behind you.

Your heart pounds as you walk at a fast pace, hugging yourself in an attempt to find some solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions that consumes you. The skin on your arms bristles from the cold breeze that sneaks through your clothes.

And although it's not raining hard, the air is permeated with moisture.

Your gaze is kept low, avoiding anyone who passes you, concentrating only on getting to your residence. But as you move forward, you realize something: you can't leave on foot.

Not like this. Not when the rain is too heavy and there's no sign that it will pass quickly. And you don't even have an umbrella with you.

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Maybe you could call an Uber or wait for it to calm down a bit. You don't have much choice, but you also don't have the energy to think of a better solution.

Then, just as you're about to turn in the direction of one of the coffee shops or with another of the libraries on campus in mind to wait and at the same time make progress on projects, a firm, familiar voice stops you.

“Wait!”

Your body instantly freezes, as if every fiber of your being instantly recognizes the soft, confident tone of his voice. The sound echoes through the air, dissipating any other noise around you.

You don't need to turn around to know who it is. You know.

His footsteps are getting closer and closer, you can hear it perfectly. And when you turn around, he's right in front of you.

Confused, you see how his gaze is fixed on you, with his spotless dark jacket, his backpack hanging from his shoulder and his relaxed but firm posture. He is actually standing in front of you. And your chest tightens with a mixture confusion and something else, something you can't quite name.

You don't understand why he's here, why he's not with her, why he's looking for you. And you don't get a chance to ask because he speaks again.

“Let me drive you.”

Confusion takes root in you more strongly, creating an uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. You blink, trying to decipher what's going on, trying to understand why he's telling you that, why he seems so determined.

He looks at you with the same impenetrable expression as always. And you say nothing, because you don't know what to say. Your lips part in an attempt to respond, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when, behind him, a figure catches your attention.

And then you see her.

Cerelle.

She stands in the distance, at the entrance to the library, her large, bright eyes fixed on Aemond, watching him with a mixture of confusion, despair and sadness. Her posture is rigid, her lips slightly parted as if she is about to call out to him, but she doesn't. She just stands there, watching him, waiting.

She waits for him to look at her, to turn and for him to come back to her.

But he doesn't.

And you don't understand.

Every part of you screams that this is wrong, that this shouldn't be happening, that he shouldn't be here with you when she's clearly waiting for him. So, without much thought, the question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“But don't you have to go with her?”

The words hang suspended between you. Aemond blinks, but doesn't answer right away. He just watches you silently, his jaw tense, his expression indecipherable.

And you watch him intently, to watch her again and him again, with the silence dragging on too long. Until finally, in a low, soft, firm tone he speaks.

“Let's go.”

He doesn't answer your question. He doesn't look back. He just says those words, clear and decisive.

And that should be enough for you to refuse, to insist on an answer, to tell him you want no part of this. Not again.

But he's overconfident, as if he's making a decision, leaving her behind. And a part of you, the most vulnerable and desperate part, wants to understand what's going on. It wants explanations.

So you nod.

You say nothing more as he places a hand on your shoulder cautiously and gently, to begin directing you toward one of the parking spaces.

He opens the passenger door for you and you settle into the seat with the sound of rain hitting the windshield in the background. He starts the engine, the heater begins to fill the interior with warm, enveloping air, but the silence between you is almost unbearable.

The drive is short, just a few minutes as your residence is not far away, but every second feels eternal. Neither of you speaks. You don't even look at each other.

Until finally, Aemond pulls up in front of your building and breaks the silence.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Your gaze lingers on your hands, on how your fingertips trace invisible lines on your pants. You don't know where to start, don't even know if there's still any point in saying anything.

Still, you nod. But you don't fully answer his question.

“I thought you were going with her,” you mutter, without thinking too hard.

The tension in the car intensifies. Aemond says nothing. He doesn't respond. And for some reason, that makes your chest tighten even more.

And instead of answering, he simply points to your building with a slight nod of his head.

“Can I come up with you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You look up at him, actually seeing him for the first time since he stopped you in the middle of the hallway.

And the only truth that resonates in your head is that you don't understand anything. You don't understand why he's here, why he's asking you this. But after a long second, finally, you nod.

And without another word, you both get out of the car and head to your dorm room.

Your door closes behind Aemond with a faint click. But the sound echoes in the air like an echo. Everything around you feels strangely quiet. The air is thick, charged with an almost palpable tension, and you can feel Aemond's presence behind you, so close that you can feel the warmth he exudes.

Nerves invade you and you move away from him, as if he burns you. You don't know what to do or what to say because the truth is that you still don't fully understand how you got here.

So long without seeing him, without talking to him and now suddenly, he is here.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You take off your jacket with a mechanical gesture and drop it on your bed. Aemond takes off his as well, leaving it on the back of your chair next to your desk.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, unsure, a little uncomfortable, and watch as he paces around your room, as if it's been a long time since he was last here.

When he suddenly focuses on the vase on your night stand next to your bed and a very small, barely visible smile appears on his lips.

“They're pretty.”

Her voice breaks the silence with an unexpected softness, too casual, trying to lighten the mood.

You follow the direction of his gaze and see the hydrangeas in the glass vase, still fresh and full of life, as if time had not touched them since the day he gave them to you.

“Thank you… by the way.”

He walks over to them, running his fingertips over the delicate petals carefully, while you stand at the foot of your bed, trying not to stare at him too much, then take a seat on the soft mattress.

Seconds pass, neither of you say anything and you don't understand what you are doing.

Then, he finally turns to you, with his soft gaze and speaks.

“You said they're your favorite, that night when we went to dinner, the hydrangeas.”

You don't say anything, you just watch him and nod slightly, you too remembering those days. But you definitely weren't prepared for what he says next.

“Your favorite color is purple. Your favorite animal is cats and wolves. Your favorite series is Stranger Things and your favorite movie is Maze Runner.”

Your breath catches for a moment and you watch him intently.

“You love the beach, watching sunsets, exploring hidden waterfalls, reading, and you love all the history of royal families, like the Tudors and the Romanovs. You want to go to Wales, to explore abandoned castles, London, Romania, Egypt and Versailles, to see Marie Antoinette's bedroom,“ he then says, stealing your breath, ‘”And you like The Weeknd, but also classical music and Taylor Swift,” he finishes.

You fall completely silent, your mind unable to process the amount of things he just said with such precision. You stare at him in surprise, feeling a lump in your throat that you can't explain.

It's not that these are secret facts about you, but you don't mention them that often either. Only once or twice. But you definitely never expected him to remember them.

You always thought Aemond wasn't someone who paid too much attention to details, at least not when it came to you. But here he is, reciting them as if they were etched into his skin. As if he knew you better than you thought he did.

He notices your expression and lets out a sigh, averting his gaze for a second before meeting you again with his clear eyes.

“I know you like the back of my hand Y/N,” he says in a soft, firm tone, ”The problem was… I didn't show that I was paying attention.”

Your heart beats painfully against your chest.

You don't know what to say, because this is a side of Aemond you've never seen before. Not the proud, cold guy who always seems unattainable, but someone genuine, someone who has actually been watching you all this time, even when you thought he hadn't.

But you can't be fooled by emotions.

Pursing your lips, you avert your gaze to your hands, feeling a pang of uncertainty prickle in your chest. You shake your head slightly, trying to rearrange your thoughts before speaking.

“I-I… I didn't let you into my room so you'd think I'd still be her replacement.”

Aemond lets out a small, low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

You watch him instantly, completely serious, not understanding his reaction. But when he looks back at you, his expression has become more intense, more sincere.

“Haven't you understood?” he murmurs, his voice full of something you can't quite identify.

He takes a step toward you, then another, another, and another, narrowing the distance between you until he stands in front of you.

“I'm here with you because I want you,” he tells you firmly and clearly, ”I don't want her. I want you.”

The words fall on you like an unexpected blow, leaving you for a moment without air. Because even if you wanted to deny it, even if you tried to convince yourself that this was all a mistake, you can't ignore the way your heart races with his confession.

And worst of all, you know he's not lying.

He lets out a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.

“I was an idiot,” he says, his voice low, almost hoarse, ”I wasted too much time chasing after a girl who was never worth it. And in the process, I hurt you…because she was hurting me.”

Something in his expression hardens, as if he hates to admit it. But then his gaze softens as he settles on you again.

“And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Your chest tightens with a million emotions at once. Because you didn't expect this. You didn't expect him to say it so clearly, so bluntly, without the arrogance that has always characterized him.

But the fear is still there.

You fold your arms, trying to keep your stance firm, trying to remember all the reasons why you shouldn't give in so easily.

“I don't know if I can do this,” you mutter, in a low, vulnerable tone.

“And I don't blame you,” he says right away, ”But you want to know the truth? I got feelings,” he confesses, ”But I was letting myself be held back by her.”

Your throat closes up. You don't know what's worse, knowing that he had feelings for you or knowing that he put them aside for someone else who never reciprocated and simply wanted his attention.

And he noticing the whirlwind of emotions on your face, he moves a little closer towards you.

“And I fucked it all up,” he says almost in a lament, “But I want to fix it.”

Your breathing quickens.

You can't trust him. Not after all.

And yet…

“Y/N,” his voice calls back to you, low, raw, honest, ”I know the last thing you want is to trust me. And I don't expect things between us to go back to the way they were. I want to make things right now, with the formalities, titles and all. If you need time, I'll give it to you, no matter how much, I'll… I'll wait for you,” he promises, ”But only if you want me to.”

Silence.

Your eyes dive into his, searching for some trace of a lie, some sign that this is all just another empty promise. But all you find is sincerity. A raw, vulnerable sincerity you've never seen in him before.

This is everything you've wanted to hear from him. Everything.

To be reciprocated.

And now that he's finally telling you, you can't stop the tears from starting to form in your eyes.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. It's all too much. Too intense, too sudden. And yet, when you open your eyes and look at him again, something inside you begins to resurface.

Hope.

But not the hope of “someday,” no, but the hope that this, here and now, works. Because it's finally happening.

“Just you and me.”

You say it quietly, as if you're still testing how it feels to say it out loud, how it feels to let it out after holding it in for so long.

And Aemond nods without hesitation.

“Just you and me,” he repeats, ”Only you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe in him.

And when he holds out his hand to you, you take it.

His fingers intertwine with yours, warm, firm, as if he's reassuring you that this time he's not going to let go. As if he wants to show you that there is no one else, that there should never have been anyone else.

Because now, there is only you.

thank you for reading!

@almostpurplelady @fauxraven @targaryendestiel @bigsimpforremuslupin

[mistninja]

Tengen should have been evil

[cloverandcrossbones]

I mean, if her friends have asked her to speak in English with THEM, that's a fair request (one she says she respects with strangers); but they need to get over being embarrassed of her using Gaelic as her default language with strangers/ordering in it.

Seems like a great practice to have!

she's a hero. she should dump her west brit "friends" and become friends with me instead

[darinawrites]

๑—Telling squid game characters you want a cat—๑

Characters: Se-mi, Hyun ju, In ho, Dae ho, Thanos, Salesman

A/n: This was requested a while ago, but Tumblr is weird and I can't find it </3 hope you still read this. Also, the damm tags don't work 😭 can someone tell me what's wrong and why they won't work constantly?

┆彡Se-mi

*ੈI see Se-mi as the biggest cat person ever. There's something about those small creatures that have a soft spot in her heart. So, of course she'd be overjoyed if you suggested it before her.

*ੈHer favorite would be a black cat, they're the cutest and cuddliest for her.

*ੈOverfeeds the cat once you buy it. She can't help it, one small pleading of a meow and the snacks are already out. You'd have to remind her and she'd understand to be more resistant in the future.

*ੈBuys only the essentials, but the most high quality ones you could ever think of. She doesn't believe a cat needs so much, but she does think they need good material.

*ੈBuys small white bows to clip it on the kitty, the contrast so vast. It reminds her a bit of the style she has, like a small reflection of herself.

*ੈThe cat will be sleeping on the bed, no buts.

*ੈShe will treat the cat as like a child she birthed herself. She isn't amazed of the idea of getting a child, so this would be a great substitute! Her kitty is the one and only child she needs.

┆彡Salesman (can we get this guy a name)

*ੈWouldn't be fond of the idea. He doesn't like animals generally, a pet wouldn't be ideal for him and it would take a lot of convincing for him to even let you speak out your idea.

*ੈAgainst all odds, you did somehow manage to get the small kitty. But be prepared for even more work. Do not expect him to do anything, it was your own idea.

*ੈBuying food and essentials. Vet trips and feeding. It's all up to you, you should've known what you were signing up for.

*ੈHe does not even acknowledge the kitties existence. Everytime it purrs as it rubs against his leg once he's back from work he doesn't react, not in the slightest. Despite your pleads, he simply answers that the pest is lucky enough to even live with you.

*ੈMaybe one day his cold facade would fade away (it won't).

┆彡In-ho

*ੈWouldn't oppose the idea nor be fond of it. He's indifferent and couldn't care much about a pet, especially since he's filled with work most of the time. He'll get you one if you want to, but don't think he wanted it.

*ੈRarely does anything with the cat. He'll do basics like feeding it, but doesn't go beyond that. He doesn't really see much in the ball of fluffy cotton.

*ੈGives you as much money as you want for the cat, while he doesn't care much for it he knows they take a lot of work to properly take care of. Doesn't know a thing about anything you're buying, so he just hopes its only essentials that are draining his wallet (they're not).

*ੈOver the time, he will grow fond of the cat. Against his own wishes, he starts to like the purrs, the fur, the accidental bites. He won't ever admit the care he grew to have, it's a just a pet, no?

*ੈBut his indifferent facade can't fool you. You saw the way he spends more time with the little kitty, letting it in his office, letting it crawl on his hand to pick it up. You won't say anything, but a small smile would come up at the thought of your cold husband warming up to the pet.

*ੈPicks the cat up in his lap any chance he gets. It's so relaxing to feel the vibrations of purrs against him as he softly strokes the fur while doing his work.

┆彡Hyun ju

*ੈNever thought of the idea. She was content with the both of you, the suggestion of something else never popping up in her mind.

*ੈYou have to give her a little time to think about it. This is a big responsibility, something she's a bit nervous about to mess up.

*ੈ"Are you sure this is what you really want, and it will make you happy?" once you nod in response and she reveals that she'll get you a cat, you're ecstatic.

*ੈAfter hours of deciding, you finally chose a small white kitty! She wouldn't care much about the type of cat she'd get, so she gave the authority to you to pick one out.

*ੈSpent hours of research to know what its trying to say. If she should pet it or it's uncomfortable, if the kitty's hungry or not. You just know she's trying her best. <3

*ੈLazy mornings with her and a fluffy cat on your thigh while her big arms cuddle you is all you've ever needed.

*ੈThe difference between the small kitten in her huge palms always makes you melt.

┆彡Thanos

*ੈTruth be told you were the one hesitant to tell him, despite the immense joy you'd get from a kitten. You weren't sure he would be responsible enough, but at the end you gave in to the desires and told him.

*ੈOf course he'd say yes, he loves any type of animals. Even if more exotic ones would be his preferred ones. As long as you're happy and have a pet, he'll put it aside.

*ੈBuying the most energetic orange cat you've ever seen. He needs an energetic companion, one that matches him.

*ੈAnd you just know he will give it the stupidest and absurd name you've heard. There's no stoping him, sadly. But you'll somehow grow used to it.

*ੈBrings the cat everywhere, especially in his recording studio. They're inseparable, seen always together. That's his buddy now, even adding some of his meows to his songs once he has the chance to.

*ੈVictim of overfeeding #2. Everytime it comes up to him he simply gives him a snack. What else is he supposed to do?

*ੈYou also have to tell him to be careful when he cuddles kitty, that man is practically squeezing every bit of life out of the poor thing.

┆彡Dae ho

*ੈDae ho is definitely a dog person. Despite his love for all animals, he'd still prefer a dog over a cat. But he wouldn't oppose it, not at all. Especially once he sees how happy it makes you.

*ੈYou'd play a little game and whoever wins decides. And to your surprise, you actually won against him! (he let you win to see you smile)

*ੈHe'll be honest, he wasn't exactly fond of the little brown kitten you brought back. But seeing your smile and the glint in your eyes made him appreciate the cat a little more.

*ੈAnd, don't worry. It won't take long before he's swooning over the sight of the kitty. The little disappointment of the loss of a dog not lasting long as he's now in the trance of the big goopy black eyes the kitten has.

*ੈAlways cuddling with it. He can't help it, the fur so fluffy and the size smaller than his hands, it's too much for his heart to take.

*ੈEqually shares the chores of the cat. He isn't one to do nothing nor everything, you're both equal and both love the kitty.

*ੈChooses the cutest and most meaningful name he can muster. Something that will always remind himself of you when he calls out for the cat <3

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Archive link because paywall but LOOK WHAT'S IN THE TIMES. CLOWNFALL BEHIND THE SCENES. https://archive.is/GdLCM

Oh DAAAAAAAAMN

God there's so much in this but let's start with:

November 7 I am blessed with the use of a car to share with Commons leader Penny Mordaunt. On its first outing, the government car service sends a very pleasant driver who has clearly never been outside the M25 and is totally unfamiliar with the rural, unlit lanes of west Wales. We crawl along, following the verge in and out of every yard and gateway until we get to a road with white lines, where normality is restored.

Lmao.

BUT HOLY SHIT THERE'S SOME GOLD HERE. My favourite entry:

January 11, 2023 Just before PMQs we get a call to say one of our MPs, Andrew Bridgen, has made a Twitter connection between the vaccine rollout and the Holocaust. No 10 is initially inclined to “demand an apology” but due to Bridgen being an utter knob, we agree the more decisive and meaningful course of action is to suspend the whip with “immediate effect”. The antivaxers go spare; to them our move confirms the Deep State is at work. The reality is he is a malevolent creep whom nobody likes, and we really don’t need him in our party. A massive cheer goes up in the whips’ office when I tell them.

Get fucked Andrew you disgustoid.

Meanwhile:

June 7/8 Harriet Harman calls by to tell me her privileges committee will publish the report into Boris [Johnson] on June 29 and hand it to him on Friday at noon. It will recommend a 20-day suspension, which will almost certainly result in a recall motion and by-election. Brace for impact. I speak to BoJo, who is questioning whether there is any procedural route by which we can kill off the report or at least vote it down. In any normal circumstances, a former PM asking for special treatment would be a big deal but this being Boris, it doesn’t surprise me at all. Worryingly, it doesn’t even annoy me that much either. So I remind him, as nicely as I can, that it was he who set up this process, he who approved its terms of reference and he who accepted Harriet Harman as its chair. “But I was in India and I wasn’t concentrating,” comes the reply. “I left it all to the whips.” Not sure that will wash, even if it were true.

GOD I'm so glad he's gone. Fucking hell, you get away from the crass incompetence of that fucking buffering pig-stuffed buffoon mask for a couple of years and your mind heals and forgets just how bad he was.

July 6 The standards committee publishes its report on Chris Pincher (accused of groping a young man), concluding with an eight-week suspension. He is finished. On the face of it, the sentence seems unbelievably harsh given he has lost his job, all his money and most of his friends. On the other hand, maybe we are all discovering that “squeezing people’s arses” is not acceptable, however fleetingly or however drunken the circumstances.

Yeah, Simon, maybe you are learning sexual harassment is not acceptable, Jesus Christ. I also managed to forget the extent to which Simon Hart is Mammy's Specialest Turd. But that's actually a good thing, because this whole thing is written as him just having the most increasingly stressful year of his entire life as Tory after Tory goes to an orgy and shits on someone's head, or goes to a party dressed as Jimmy Saville and fucks a blow-up doll, or Suella Happens Again. The whole thing is increasingly written like he wants to cry, but also like he's the One Reasonable Man in the whole place; particularly interesting is the way he tries to throw others under the bus when he was all on board with their shit while in power.

Anyway. Christ I'm glad to see the back of them all.

[lvrgirl-inc]

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

pair. Guitarist Boy Toy!Choso x Lead Singer f!reader

wc. 1.3k

genres. Bands, band mates, “Great show” quickie, “It’s in my jeans genes,” cunn!lingus, sub!Choso, treat me like your guitar, behind set, touring, dressing room.

AN ; “I just wanna be part of your symphony.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

There you were, barbecue sauce on your—okay. Not actually. But a great opener, right?

Speaking of, you and your band had just had one. A stadium of faces, all cheering the name of each party on stage—Choso Kamo and you.

You two were the best duet since Kali Uchis and Daniel Caesar. With Choso’s god tier skills on the frets and how your voice managed to capture hearts—you two were unstoppable.

And you had one of the best methods of celebrating a good gig.

“Mmf— augh, Cho..~” you’d be panting out, sprawled along the luminescent vanity of your dressing room mirror. Your thighs tightly hugging his face and a fresh pedicure disturbing the back fabric of his shirt.

The real kicker was how those eyes just bore up into you, even as he was fucking his tongue in out of your cunt. “.. ‘M sorry, ma’am..” he’d whine back in between the brief breaks of his mouth’s contact with your pussy. “Y’just taste..so..ngh…”

Cut off in a moan of his own, you felt his deeply inky polished nails sinking deeper into the fat of your ass, exposed only by his hasty riding up of your performance dress.

“Your pipes were fuckin’..perfect, mistress…” placing a kiss to your clit and the slurping right back into your sticky slit once more. “Hit ‘em higher..mhn..make her sing..~” in that same puppy-dog tone that had your mouth falling agape as your hand scrabbled a bit to place shaky fingers back on the reflectional glass.

The other primly pressed set of nails was raking though his hair, which you’d insisted he wore down for the sake of fan service—but looking back on it now, it was definitely self-indulgent.

“Hnngh..uhuh, yeahh, you hit a-all the right notes for me…” you’d shakily praise, hoping that you didn’t sound like you didn’t know what you were saying..which you sort of didn’t. That swivel of his tongue was wicked. “Oh fuuck, don’t stop, Cho..~”

The sounds of the venue filing to an emptiness could be heard outside of the walls, masses of chatter and yet all the raven heard was you. Like you were the most harmonious song he’d ever heard or ever really needed to hear ever again.

Your hips were grinding filthily on the hook his skilled tongue had inside you. Like your life depended on it, really. Eyebrows furrowed and tilted just north where they almost met. Biting that previously-glossed bottom lip—that which your pussy’s current companion had already made quick work of.

He shifted further onto his knees, seeming as if he’d die if he took his mouth off your cunt for even a second. His nails sliding from cupping your underside that was now properly laced with a film of evidence. Evidence of Choso’s handiwork on you, that is.

Sliding them under your thighs, he pushed them back a bit, causing you to slide down further off the dressing table, where he was able to lick a long stripe from where his tongue had been safely nuzzled to your pearly clit.

You knew you saw him all the time—this way and in more cordiality—but you seriously couldn’t get over the way he looked at you. Like every word that fell from you was gospel, like each and every twitch of your features contorted by his inflictions was prophetic.

Of course, you two did write music together, so he could easily register that as some form of scripture. He worshipped you. And you could feel the results of his dutiful homage shuddering up your spine.

The clumsily still-attached heel of yours finally makes a clack to the ground as your ankles curve and cross in the diamond of his shoulder blades.

God, to live in this moment, hearing that soft, “Are you cummin’ again, Ms. Pretty..?” almost whimpered against you. Sometimes he wouldn’t admit it to the furthest extent—but eating you out got him off, bad.

So when that climbing octave tone came up into your voice, “Mhn-, mhmm yeah, yeahyeahyeah..” easily increasing in desperation as you nodded, nails now making the best effort to anchor yourself onto him as your hips ground down on him maddeningly.

How could he not moan right along with you? With how your walls were spasming around his tongue. His own cock had been tenting obscenely for what must’ve been over an hour or so. Now an aching tip, grinding between the rough of his jeans and his thigh, just weeping from devouring you.

Choso knew how you got when you were close, so his arms gathered a tighter grip on you as your waist instinctively tried to pry away—oh but it was too late for that.

You were clamping up around him in no time at all and he heard that drop-dead adorable little gasp that you made before swallowing it down. Only for it to come out as a series of pitchy breaths. His tongue drank you in through your climax even whilst full-body shudders started to wrack you.

“Hnn-! God f-fuckin’ please,” you’d say, finally getting over the first immobilization process and letting your stomach flutter rapidly. “Good fucking boyy, Cho..k-keep goin’..” softly encouraged as he worked hard to work you through.

Choso was simply beside himself. No, not only because he could feel his jaw aching—that has never and will never be a problem that either you have to fret over. But what did get to him was…ahem, you.

Unbeknownst to you, feeling those warm muffs around his face, how you convulsed when your essence was painting his tongue, what he could manage to hear from your mouth when your cunt—which was 20x louder in his head than anything—he just couldn’t help but cum right then and there.

Still maneuvering his tongue through your walls, chin slick and eyes lazily narrowed on your post-orgasmic haze. That following a shaky breath of a laughter as you carded your fingers through your hair. Staring down at the mess that was made of your custom dress, how Choso’s eyeliner was even starting to run similar to yours.

Though nowhere near as intense.

And..getting the hint, Choso pulled off of your pussy, giving another round of loving, sloppy kisses before officially detaching. Truly, if you were a drug, the FDA would’ve had his hide millennia ago. Because fuck was he hooked.

You’d lean forward, lazily cupping his face up into your hands, even while your moist thighs were still settled on his shoulders. Brushing back those beautiful midnight strands, you smiled in that fucked-way that had Choso flushing deeper than you.

Yeah, because he was the one who begged to come back here for a rest after you walked off stage. He was definitely the one who suggested that the thrill would be fun ‘hypothetically.’ And he was definitely the one who just came…three times, now? Yeah. Totally.

But that fluster was always the cutest. Even more so when you leaned down to kiss him. Getting a loud makeout session as you whispered ‘thank you’s against his lips. Tasting your essence there, even moreso when he started giving you the French treatment.

Your breathlessly giggling mouth parted from his as you snagged a strand of hair behind your ear to get a proper look at him. “I don’t know where you learned to eat pussy like that, Mr. Kamo.” a tease as you watched his eyes drift for a second, just for the use of his last name. But it was nice to turn his head back to you gently.

“Hmm, you could say it’s in my jeans.” with an aversion down before coming back up to you.

Thrown off slightly by the motion, you smiled with a raised eyebrow. “You mean in your genes, Cho?”

“…Ah..no.” in a mousy voice.

Fuck. You were so in love.

[redbird-tf]

All you need

Dean Winchester x toddler sister reader x sam Winchester

Synopsis; As your 4th birthday approaches, all you want is to spend it with your dad. But when he shows up only to leave again, it’s your big brother who proves he’s all you truly need.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: reference the gif for the main scene

Warnings; daddy issues, daddy issues

“Da!”

“Da!”

You tugged at Dean's pant legs, desperate to grab his attention. Across the table, Sam looked up from his book to Dean and let out an exaggerated cough, “Dean i think she wants you” he remarked. “then she can say my name” he replied flatly without looking up from his journal. Sam shook his head“Add ‘unavailable brother’ to her therapy list” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean rolled his eyes, then finally turned his chair to face you. He leaned forward and tapped his chest in emphasis “De or dean.” He enunciated firmly. “Not ‘da’ not ‘dad’. Dean”

You stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. “de…” you repeated softly. “Yes, y/n?” He asked, His tone losing its edge. “I want color, and TV” you demand excitedly, yanking at his jeans. “Alright, I’ll grab you your colors,” Dean said, standing from his chair. Once you were settled in front of the TV with your Scooby color book Dean returned to the table. Sam, who had silently watched the exchange, let out a chuckle. “what?” Dean irritatedly questioned. “I just don't get why it's such a big deal to you” Sam commented. Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice low. “She knows I'm not dad, Sam.” his patience was wearing thin. “Does she?” Sam hesitated “She sees you a lot more than dad”. “Then why doesn't she call you dad? your with her as much as i am” Dean scoffed, roughly shutting his journal. Sam raised a brow “Because i was at Stanford for the first year of her life” Dean couldn’t argue and remained silent. His gaze wanders to you, engrossed by cartoons, oblivious to the conversation happening behind you.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, following Dean's gaze towards you. “Her birthday tomorrow…” his voice was laced with concern. “I know.” Dean mumbled, “you think Dad remembers?” Sam practically whispered. Dean's jaw tightened “He said he’d be back by tomorrow” Deans tone was flat, rehearsed almost. “Thats not what-“ “i don't know Sam” Dean snapped, his chair scraped against the hardwood as he stood abruptly. Without another word he turned and walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with his unspoken thoughts.

Dean's hand dragged down his face as his chest rose and fell. “Hey y/n” he heard Sam's voice call from inside. “Hi, Sammy”. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder to see the window he cracked open earlier. He hesitantly inched closer, peaking in through the blinds. Inside Sam was now sitting with you in front of the TV. You hadn’t even bothered to look up from your coloring book as you greeted him. Sam watched you for a moment “Y/n why do you call Dean dad?” Sam asked carefully. The scratching of crayons against thick paper had suddenly stopped. You shrugged dismissively “i don't know,” you said, unnaturally high-pitched. Sam knew there was something you weren’t telling him. Sam studied you and chose his next words carefully. “You know deans our brother right?”. Your shoulders slumped and your lips formed a pout.

“But… he acts like the dads on TV…” you mumbled. Sam let the silence sit, hoping you'd say more. “He's always here, he's strong, he loves me…” your voice wavered and before Sam could react, tears started to pool in your eyes. “Ok ok, I'm sorry bug, no need to cry” Sam cooed, swiftly scooping you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles into your back. After a moment Sam moved to cradle your face in his large hands, before speaking “you know brothers can do that too” he spoke gently, not wanting to upset you again. “Really?” You asked, blinking at him with those big round eyes, that never failed to make Sam's heart melt. “He’ll always be here, even when dad can't” Sam replied with a smile. His smile quickly faded when your pout had no intention of turning upside down like something was weighing you down. “What's wrong?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Does Daddy remember my birthday tomorrow?” Sam’s heart shattered. Outside the window, Dean's head dropped. Guilt gnawing at him. he felt like he was already failing you, he was supposed to protect you from those thoughts. Sam wouldn’t shield their father’s image for you like Dean would, he couldn’t lie to you. “i don't know” Sam admitted, his voice cracking. His arms opened out to you again, waiting for you to seek comfort. But you didn't move. You stayed planted in his lap. “Dos dean….?” Your voice wavered, thick with sadness. “Of course he does” was quick to reply. “Because he's my brother” you mumbled, sam couldn’t tell if that was a statement or question but nodded his head anyway. “Because he's your brother” he repeated, lifting you gently off the floor. He pressed a kiss to your temple and held you close. “Let's get you to bed”

—————

You began to stir, the sunlight was bleeding warmth into the room and the birds chirping soothed you softly from your rest. With a yawn, You pushed yourself upright, rubbing the sleep from your heavy eyes. The faint voices caught your attention. Blinking away the last trace of sleep you turned your head. “Daddy!” You shouted, your eyes had landed on John who stood in the middle of the room between the brothers. Their conversation had halted, watching you dart towards John. “Hey kid” a rare smile tugged at his lips, as he swept you up into his arms. You wrapped yourself tightly around him“It's my birthday!” You announced. “The big 4” he added. Your smile widened, he remembered. “Do i get a gift?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side. “You know i was a little busy, but….” his hand began to rummage around in his pocket. “But this will get you whatever you want” he stated handing you a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Sam rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. John lowered you back to your feet “Now why don't you go play? i need to talk to your brothers” You nodded eagerly at his request, clutching the bill in your hand before scurrying off.

You had decided to occupy your time with more TV, letting their voices become background noise. Until the familiar creak of the door hinges caught your attention. The three of them were walking out the door, with their backs turned to you. You scrambled to your feet, to meet them in the parking lot. “Daddy! Where are we going?” You called out, your small feet smacking against the pavement. They hadn’t even noticed you following them. “I've gotta go to work baby” he explained crouching to your level. You frowned “But it's my birthday!” You nagged with a stomp of your foot. You tugged at his shirt and began to beg. It didn’t matter what he was saying-you just wanted him to stay. Your tantrum wore thin on John's patience “This is more important” he snapped, prying your hands from his collar with a sharp jerk. Your lip trembled uncontrollably, and before the first tear could fall you turned your heel. You ran back to the room, shoving past Sam when he tried to hold you. Sam turned back to face his dad with a cold stare. John returned the glare “Don't give me that look” John warned. “Dean help me with the bags” he ordered. Dean nodded, silently he grabbed a bag and followed their father to the truck.

John closed the tailgate with a thud then turned to Dean, his hand gripping his shoulder “Take care of your siblings” Dean nodded with a commonly repeated “yes sir” and turned back to the motel where he saw Sam standing, his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Dean moved to stand next to him while they both watched John's truck pull out of the lot and disappear down the road. A faint sniffle broke the silence. Dean glanced down and was surprised to see your trembling form wrapped around Sammy's leg. With a sigh, Dean stepped forward, detaching you from Sam and pulling you into his arms. You didn’t resist and rather pressed your body tightly against your big brother's chest. The safest place in the world. His large hand rubs up and down your back while whispering comforting words in your ear. You shifted slightly, your head moved from resting on his shoulder to being tucked beneath his chin.

“You're my real daddy, De,” you said sternly, outweighing the tremble in your voice. Deans jaw clenched. His heart ached for you, for the little girl who had learned far too early what it felt like to be abandoned. There was nothing he could say to fix things, nothing he could do to shield you from the hurt. He just held you tighter, like it was the only thing holding you together. “Can we get McDonalds?” Your voice broke him from his trance and a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I got twenty dollars” you added, holding up the crumpled bill. A genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, shaking the heaviness of the moment. The girl who was just pulling on his heartstrings now wanted nothing more than McDonalds. Your brows furrowed in confusion, widening his smile even more. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I'll get you all the McDonalds you want” he promised, voice steady. Dean couldn’t fix things with their father, but maybe he could be everything you needed.

[gilbertscurls]

the disaster date — matt sturniolo

Matt had been nervous before, sure. He’d gone through plenty of nerve-wracking moments in his life—filming in front of millions of people, meeting celebrities, even dealing with his brothers’ chaotic antics on a daily basis.

But this?

This was different.

This was a first date. With you.

And he was freaking out.

He had no idea why he thought he could handle this. He wasn’t a first-date kind of guy. He wasn’t smooth or effortlessly charming like Nick, and he definitely wasn’t naturally charismatic like Chris. No, Matt was the guy who overthought everything, who second-guessed his outfit five times before even leaving the house, who had googled “how to not be awkward on a date” just last night.

And now, standing at your door, his heart nearly burst out of his chest when you finally stepped out.

His brain short-circuited immediately.

You looked—

He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I... wow," he managed to say. "You look... you look incredible."

And he meant it.

Because holy crap, you did.

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Matt."

But Matt wasn’t even listening anymore because—

Don’t stare at her body, don’t stare at her body... crap, I’m staring at her body.

His face burned as he snapped his gaze up, praying you didn’t notice. He needed to get it together. Immediately.

"Uh, shall we?" he said, extending his arm awkwardly like some kind of 18th-century gentleman.

You giggled but took it anyway. "We shall."

Step one of the date: Pick her up. ✅ (Barely.)

The Restaurant Mishap

Matt should’ve known things were going too smoothly.

You had gotten to the restaurant without any problems. No wrong turns, no getting lost—he was killing it.

And then the waiter handed him the menu.

The very fancy menu.

In French.

Matt squinted at it, panic creeping into his brain. He didn’t speak French. He barely passed Spanish in high school, and that was mostly because Nick helped him cheat on vocabulary quizzes.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” you asked, casually scanning your own menu.

No. No, he absolutely did not.

He tried to play it cool, nodding like he totally understood what Boeuf Bourguignon was. "Yeah, totally. I mean... what even is food, right? It's all just... cooked stuff."

You blinked. "Are you okay?"

"Yup! Fine. So fine. The finest."

Matt, shut up.

He made the executive decision to point at something random when the waiter came back. Whatever he ordered, it couldn’t be that bad.

Right?

Wrong.

Because twenty minutes later, the waiter placed a plate in front of him, and Matt found himself staring at—

Escargot.

Which, for the record, was snails.

He felt his soul leave his body.

"Are you gonna try it?" you asked, clearly holding back laughter.

Matt straightened up, determined not to lose his dignity. "Of course. I’m an adventurous guy." He picked up his fork, stabbed one of the snails, and—

Oh god.

It was slimy.

So, so slimy.

Still, he forced himself to bring it to his mouth. Do it for her. Be the cool, cultured guy.

He took a bite.

And immediately regretted every decision that had led him to this moment.

It tasted like rubber and sadness.

"So?" you prompted, grinning.

Matt swallowed (barely). "Mmm. So good. Love me some... snail."

You laughed, and even though he was in culinary hell, the sound made it almost worth it.

Almost.

Step two of the date: Don’t embarrass yourself. ❌ (Mission failed.)

The Goodbye (AKA Matt’s Last Chance to Redeem Himself)

Despite the absolute disaster that was dinner, you still seemed to be having a good time.

You talked the whole way back, laughing at his terrible jokes, your hand casually resting on his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Matt?

Matt was gone.

Completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you.

Which was why, when he walked you up to your door, he knew this was his chance to not screw things up.

"Tonight was fun," you said softly.

Matt nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Even though I may or may not have eaten a snail against my will."

You giggled. "Hey, that was your fault for not reading the menu."

"Technically, it was my fault for pretending to understand French," he admitted.

You smiled, tilting your head. "I like that about you, though."

Matt blinked. "That I’m an idiot?"

"No," you said, rolling your eyes. "That you don’t take yourself too seriously. You’re easy to be around."

His heart did a full gymnastics routine.

This was it.

The moment.

The kiss moment.

But before he could do anything smooth, something very not smooth happened—

You leaned in slightly, and in his panic, Matt stepped back.

Too far back.

Right into the potted plant behind him.

He tripped, flailing wildly, and barely caught himself before completely wiping out on your porch.

Silence.

Then—

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you asked, trying (and failing) not to laugh.

Matt groaned, covering his face. "No. I’m never recovering from this."

You shook your head, still giggling. "Come here, dummy."

And then—

You kissed him.

Soft. Gentle. Just a little teasing, but still enough to make his brain fully shut down.

When you pulled away, Matt just stood there, eyes wide, completely frozen.

You smirked. "I’ll text you?"

He nodded way too quickly. "Y-yeah. Totally. That’d be... cool. Super cool."

You gave him one last smile before disappearing inside.

Matt stared at your door for a full five seconds.

Then he fist-pumped the air like a middle schooler.

Step three of the date: Get a second one. ✅ (Mission accomplished.)

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