#it’s the messy hair the glasses the fucking CAT

[sleaze4sleaze]

What the fuck did I wake up to it’s seven in the morning I can’t handle this

[hughesmuse86]

Hiii honey🩷 I wanna share this edit w you because I cannot stop thinking about Jack with this song… I love the part “like a rottweiler and a kitty cat”😮‍💨 maybe you could get some inspo from this for a little story w our mr rowdy🥝

https://youtu.be/H2ci2ptKFzA?si=hUi1SWUagx_NwIPW

Hmm… saur, I don’t know if I nailed the song, but I tried 😋 nothing but love for you 🥝 nonnie. Thank you for your ask!I hope you're having a great night!!!!! ♥️

+18 -> smut | Jack helps you make your ex jealous

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓮’𝓼𝓔𝔁𝓖𝓕!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, kissing, spanking, oral (male receiving), praise, hair pulling, teasing, unprotected p in v, ownership kink, rough sex, choking, wet and messy, rempe cheats on the reader, making a sex tape, sending pics to rempe

2.7k

The bass bumps in Jack’s chest as he leans into the table, nursing a beer. The victory was still fresh—adrenaline coursing through his veins from the game, shifting from the match to the moment playing out in front of him. He looks across the bar, through the packed house, studying #73, who has his hands all over some girl who was not you.

Jack barely reacts at first, just watching, his jaw tightening slightly. Not because he cared about Matt or your relationship in the slightest; this was actually the best-case scenario for him; he was just curious about what would happen next. And, he was ready.

Matt's tongue slips between the girl's lips; the 6’9” player leaning into it, completely shameless like he has nothing to lose.

But Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed.

You walk by the bar, drink in hand, and the moment your gaze falls on Matt, your face twists. It wasn’t the reaction Jack expected… No tears, no fighting.

You lift your hand, flicking Matt off, catching the eyes of a few of his teammates as you walk toward the door—Matt, still none the wiser. Not yet, at least.

“Gotta go,” Jack mutters as he pushes up from the table.

“Jack–where the fuck are you goin’?” One of the guys calls after him, but he’s not listening.

Luke points lazily over to the bar, gesturing to Matt, already knowing full well what would happen next, muttering to Hischier about sleeping on the pullout bed in his hotel room tonight instead.

Outside, the streetlights cast a soft glow on your face as you furiously type away, walking toward your place.

“Hey–”

“Not in the mood.” You snap—your voice sharp and annoyed as your heels pound against the pavement.

Jack chuckles warmly, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m on your team—”

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard before you turn, recognizing a familiar voice. Jack smiles as you meet his pretty blue eyes—his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey. You alright?” He asks gently, but you can see in his eyes that he knows the answer.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head ‘no,’ wrapping your arms around your waist as you step a little closer. He nods as he looks down at you, his smile widening as you lessen the space between you.

“Guessin’ you already know that?” You hum with a playful tip of your head.

He lets out a short laugh, rubbing his hand over his mouth to snuff out his smile. “You’re makin’ it sound like I’ve been stalking you, pretty.”

“Pretty?” You ask, feeling your cheeks warm up. He bites his lip slightly and smiles. “Haven’t you been—stalking me, that is?”

He shrugs, rocking back on his heels a little as he marinates with that thought for a bit. “I wouldn’t say that… But you are kinda hard to ignore.”

“Is that so?” You ask as you batt your lashes a few times, making him blush.

“I saw you sittin’ on the glass,” Jack admits. “Heard Matt talkin’ in the parking lot after. Figured I’d tell the boys to come here.” His tongue pokes against his cheek as he says the words out loud, making your accusations from before even more laughable. “So, yeah… maybe I am a little bit of a stalker.”

You giggle and shake your head, looking up at him as Jack glances down at your phone.

“So… What are you sayin’ to him?” He asks curiously.

You scoff and sigh, “M’telling him ‘I saw what he did’ and that ‘I’m done’.”

Jack nods as if that was the only logical response. Your eyes flick up from your phone as he does the same, matching your gaze–a flicker of something darker in both your eyes.

“I just wanna make him pay,” you smile. “Show him, I’m not the only one who can do whoever they want.”

Jack’s lips quirk into a smirk, catching the way you said ‘whoever’ instead of ‘whatever.’

“You meant that, huh?” He asks as his smile deepens.

“Yeah,” you answer without hesitation.

“So what, you wanna do me? Is that what we’re getting at here?” He rasps as he battles back a smile.

“I do,” you answer again without a second thought.

“… You don't know me.”

“Good point,” you sigh. “Well, have a great night, Jack—” You turn around but he grabs your arm, whipping you back around.

“Didn’t say it mattered… ‘Cause it doesn't.”

He looks back at you, curious about what you’ll say next; no doubt that you’ll surprise him again.

“One condition,” you smile.

He raises a brow, stepping a little closer. “Oh yeah? N’what’s that, princess?”

You hold his gaze as your lips curl into a wicked smile. “We record it. And send it to him.”

Jack’s mouth parts, his dark lashes fluttering as he replays the words in his head, and for a second, you think he’ll say ‘no’–that maybe you pushed him too far. He steps a little closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you in the opposite direction of where you were headed.

“I have a mirror on my ceiling.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The lights are down low, just enough for Jack to get the perfect shot as he lays down on his big hotel bed, the light of your camera phone glowing as you crawl closer.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groans as you slink on top, straddling his lap, bearing your weight on your hands, pressed against his firm chest.

Jack’s heart races underneath as he looks up at you in awe, holding your hip in his large hand, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, following your movements as you grind your wet pussy on his hard dick with his camera pointed right at it.

He lifts the camera to the ceiling, and you look up as well, smiling for Matt to see.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles as he smacks your ass. “Don’t worry, Rempe—I’ll take real good care of her,” he huffs, his words fading to a deep moan as you move your hand between your thighs, wrapping your fingers around his thick dick, tilting your body closer.

You breathe against his mouth as you stroke his long length, nice and slow. "You’re gonna take care of me, Jack?" His eyes roll back at your words. A deep, gravelly moan thunders in his throat as you kiss along his jawline.

“Mhmm… I am, princess. I promise,” he sighs.

Jack's head falls back into the pillow, giving you access to his skin, your lips taking purchase of his neck, kissing lower and lower, his muscles tightening under your soft touches.

You tease him with the tip of your tongue, tracing his deep v-line as you work your way between his thighs, finally getting a good look at his rock-hard cock; pussy pulsing, body aching to be stuffed full of him.

You wrap your fingers around his dick, holding him straight, licking along the side of his dick, making him moan needily.

Your tongue travels across his hard skin, exploring every inch, taunting him some more. He grips your hair suddenly, pulling you back, making you gasp, goosebumps fanning across his thighs. You flick your eyes at him, catching his rapid breathing.

"Maybe I should thank him for being a fuckin’ idiot—otherwise, I wouldn’t have you like this, pretty," he taunts, causing a smirk to stretch across your lips.

"It’d be rude if you didn’t," you whisper sweetly before you tap his tip against your tongue.

A little mess of precum rolls down the side of his heavy cock, making your mouth water. You trace the trail of his vein, making him shudder out a breath.

"Mpfhh… Thank you," he moans as he shakes his head and smiles, the man on cloud nine, as you kiss and suck on his head sloppily.

“Polite and hung. How did I get so lucky?” You ask sweetly, rubbing his tip against your pillowy lips, his swollen head sheened with spit.

Jack rests his big hands on the top of your head, scratching his rough fingertips in your hair, causing your eyes to fall shut. You take his cue, wrapping your lips around him, taking him inch by inch. "Yeah, baby. Just like that," he groans.

Jack guides you, stroking his cock with your mouth, pitching his hips, driving his tip to the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your lips tight around his thick length, feeling a slight ache in your jaw as you bob up and down.

"So fuckin' good at suckin' dick,” he drawls as you add your hand, working him closer and closer to his peak.

Your wrist moves in tandem with your mouth, laboring messily, thoroughly coating his cock with your saliva, slurping and squelching, making his toes curl with each stroke of your fist.

Praise falls from his lips as he mutters incoherently, trying to keep his eyes on yours as the phone trembles slightly in his hand.

Jack's grip on your hair tightens as a husky moan releases from his lips. You take him deep in your throat before sucking back to his tip as he looks back at you, watching as tears roll down your cheeks.

Jack reaches out, brushing them away with his thumb before sucking it clean as you stroke his cock in your hand. "Fuck you look good, princess, Mmm... Gonna cum-"

"Where do you want it," you whisper warmly against his throbbing dick.

"Mouth... Fuck, I wanna cum in that pretty fuckin' mouth," he pleads as your lips circle him again, spit seeping down to his balls. The sensation and pleasure of it all sends him over the edge. Jack's toned hips jolt upwards, thighs trembling and flexing tightly.

"Fuckk, y/n," he moans as his sticky load paints the back of your throat.

His eyes pinch shut, cock throbbing on your tongue as you milk out his last bits of pleasure.

You draw your lips off him slowly, Jack's body melting into the bed. "Co'mere, princess," he whispers drunkenly, sighing as you slink higher, working toward his lips as he sets the phone down on the nightstand. "You're my girl now," he mumbles between kisses. "My fuckin' girl."

"M'Yours, Jack," you whisper, kissing him deeply.

"You gonna let me take care of you, princess?"

You bite your lip and nod as Jack rolls you to your back, staring down at you with lust-filled eyes, the damp fringe of his bangs skimming his forehead.

He leans down for a kiss, claiming your mouth; his tongue works between your lips, reeling slowly.

"Can't believe he treated you so bad. I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise,” he mutters smugly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, Jack."

“Mmm… Condom?”

You giggle as you cup his cheek in your hand, brushing your thumb along his bottom lip. “Whatever you want, baby—”

“What do you think I’m gonna say?” He asks as he crawls to your lips, hard cock dragging against your tummy, smudging precum along your warm skin. Jack lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the bed. He grabs your cheeks with one hand, kissing your lips roughly.

“I think you’re gonna tell me ‘you wanna cum in my pussy,’ you whisper against his lips as he swirls his fat tip around your drooling hole, pressing in just enough to make your mouth fall in a soft "o," moaning into his mouth at the stretch.

“Smart and soaking fuckin’ wet… How did I get so lucky?”

You bite your lips, holding back a laugh that slips by your lips regardless. “He’s gonna kill you,” you whisper for his ears only.

“Does it look like I give a shit?”

“No,” you shake your head as you roll your hips slightly, teasing him with your wetness.

“Fuck, how could I?” He whispers as he leans down, kissing you tenderly before looking back to the camera. “Bet you wish you were me right now, huh?” He mutters, thrusting into you roughly, giving you all of him, making you scream his name.

“Jack, shit—”

"Fuck, sweetheart. Keep goin’, Yeah? Keep saying my name," he praises as he grips your thighs, slinging them over his big shoulders. Your eyes widen as his large cock stretches you out. Jack presses his full weight into you, making your trembling hands reach for his hips.

"So deep, Jack," you blubber.

"Too much?" You bite your bottom lip, shaking your head, ‘no.’ "So damn tight. Shittt. This fucking pussy, princess." Jack starts to move, rolling and snapping his hips into you at the perfect pace. “Tell me, baby—was he ever this deep?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you toe the line between pleasure and pain; the knot in your belly threatens to break as you shake your head ‘no.’

“Didn’t think so… Look at that. Holy shit," he chuckles raspily. His large hand rests on your lower stomach, the tip of his big cock making a slight bulge in your tummy.

Jack drops your thighs from his shoulders, taking a bruising grip on your hips, fucking into you rough and fast, causing the bed to thump against the wall.

You grab his wrists from your hips, dragging them up your body, curling his hands around your neck, urging him to squeeze. He smiles as he tightens his hold even more, making you choke and sputter—your rapid pulse raps against his palms.

“Tighter," you pant. Jack laughs wickedly, applying further pressure, making your eyes fall closed, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Jack lifts his hand, slapping your cheek just enough to sting.

"Jack... I." You stutter as you feel your pleasure about to burn through you. “I’m gonna—”

"Mmm... Not until I tell you. You understand?"

"Please!" You moan. You can't hold back your bliss even if you tried. Your climax claims your body. "Jack, fuck!" You sob. He continues to rail you, not letting up. You force your eyes open, meeting his stare; Jack quickly hides his smile.

"What the fuck did I say?”

"I'm so-" He cuts you off with his big fingers pushing through your kiss-swollen lips, landing on your tongue.

"Suck." Jack draws his fingers down to your clit, circling them quickly. You feel yourself right back at the edge of ecstasy; your eyes start to fall shut as exhaustion sets in. "Look at me, or I might just stop." He slows his strokes, hands toiling slower as he threatens to cease altogether, smiling at you darkly.

"Don’t stop," you cry as you stare into his lidded eyes.

Jack lowers himself to your lips, his muscular body clapping against yours again and again. "Give it to me, Daddy—” Your voice cuts short as pleasure takes complete control.

You pull him in tighter, hooking your ankles around his trim waist, praising his name as he worships you. "Y/n... Ugh, shit," he groans, hips pumping one last time, filling you full.

He kisses you deeply, breathing heavily with you. “Jesus Christ, Jack,” you giggle breathlessly as your entire body trembles.

He lets out a sleazy laugh, pretty proud of himself for the mess he made of you. “Hear that, Rempe. I win again.”

Jack reaches over, flicks off the camera before shutting it off, passing it to you.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies tangled in each other, wrapped in sheets.

Jack looks over at you, his chest rising and falling fast—his hair a mess. You giggle as you match his eyes, your kiss-swollen lips pulling into a blissed-out smile.

“I can’t send it,” you whisper.

Jack covers his face with his hands, running them down as he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he breathes as he pulls you in closer. “Was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘cause if this were just a one-time thing, I’d be pissed.” His tone is playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something real. “I’m already getting a little jealous and possessive over you. He's not seeing that shit again,” he mumbles as he’s eyes shift back to you to gauge your reaction.

“I love that,” you breathe as your tongue pokes between your mile.

“Good,” he smiles as he reaches over, squeezing your ass in his hand, using his hold on your body to pull you in for a kiss.

You reach over and run a hand over his chest, fingers tracing the sweat-glazed skin. “We should send him a picture instead.”

Jack let out a deep chuckle. “That’ll do it… Think he’ll know it’s me?”

“Maybe?”

“Hopefully,” he corrects you as he leans in for another kiss.

You lift your phone, snapping the perfect picture before sending it to Matt. Jack watches curiously as you tap a few buttons on your phone. His brows furrowed as the TV across the room lights up, watching as you screen share the video.

“Oh, you’re something else,” Jack murmurs.

“Someone’s gotta watch it.”

“Round two while we watch it?”

“And I’m something else?” You giggle as you lean in for a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

“Mhmm… And now you’re mine.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[matchamiko]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Daydreams about Yuuji

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: Oral (m -> receiving): sloppy, messy oral; masturbation: dirty talk; AFAB reader (use of girl, girlfriend,); established new relationship; mentions of oral (f -> receiving).

Daydreaming about giving Yuuji his first blowjob. Being his cute, soft, bundle-of-fun girlfriend for a few months before asking him if he wants to fuck your mouth, a little crudely in your tone but quietly, a whisper from your quivering lips. Quivering only in anticipation and the mere thought of him spread out, spilling down your throat. You’re painting your nails on a book on the floor, polish bottles positioned carefully so they don’t tip. A glass of iced yuzu tea sits next to Yuuji’s on the side table, forgotten in your concentration and forgotten in your distraction.

Your nails are long dry now, a pretty pearl that glimmers in the light. They’re fisted on your folded thighs, clenching and cracking when Yuuji shifts uncomfortably under the heat of your gaze.

“You wanna - what?” Golden thighs fog any semblance of sobriety you have left, craving the warm supple skin before you like a wolf to prey. He’s reclined on the foldaway couch he’d thrifted from the side of the road, gym shorts pulled tight over the very tops of his thighs and over his crotch. Staring down at you with sweat beading his hairline and his lower lip dropped open at your sultry admission,

“Please? Should I have said please first?” You shuffle towards him, not touching but so desperately obvious in your lust that Yuuji struggles on where to look, “please can I suck your cock? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

You two hadn’t had sex yet, not that it hadn’t come close. Something had always interrupted, whether it was a noisy neighbour or an irritating friend or mentor, or even the cat that roams your apartment as if it was his own. Kissing him was a dream, touching him made you too hot for your own skin and only he had made you come so far, fingers deep and a little clumsy but deft and strong in their wringing of your orgasm(s) on steamy summer’s afternoons tangled up on the couch.

So asking him for favours wasn’t really out of the question. Yuuji adored it when you politely asked for a kiss, positively beams at you before swallowing your radiating embarrassment with his lips. He’s not beaming now, not in the same way.

He’s - sweating. Squirming as he nods with a dry throat, swallowing and grinding his mouth shut. You’re picture perfect between his thighs, pearly nails digging welts into his muscle and humming at the give of the blonde hairs there. He’s afraid of what might happen if he opens his mouth, some kind of animalistic whimper or a loud sob? He feels rather pathetic before you, but gloriously so, bent to your will and your pretty painted nails.

“Bet you taste so good Yuuji,” you simper, lips picking out the moles and freckles leading up to his groin, “might give me some kinda oral fixation,”

Yuuji moans then, out-loud and deep from his chest. You grin wolfishly, fingers deft as they slip over the sweat resistant material of his shorts and up under his t-shirt. It’s tight, a little musty from drying in the bathroom and it gives way for the trail over his belly,

“Hold this f’me Yuuji,” broad hands hover over the edge of his shirt and then over you, biting his lip and then biting the fabric, “Mhm, thank you for letting me do this, been wanting to taste your cock for ages,”

“Yea-sh,” his voice is crackled and muffled by his shirt, spittle damping it but you’re pulling down the band of his shorts and suddenly it’s a little too real, hands raising to pause you, “Baby wait - I -,”

Anything he was going to say dies in a guttural grunt as you envelope the top of his weepy cock in your mouth. Hands that were intended to push you away grab you closer, cradling your throat and squeezing your shoulder.

“Mmmm,” you hum, one hand squeezing the base and the other squeezing his thigh, eyes rolling into the back of your head with the salty, bitter taste of him. Little sucks and kisses have Yuuji barely containing his groans and choked whines, hips flexing beneath you. The shirt has fallen to just below his pecs, belly tightening and flexing with every kick of his cock against your soft palate, but you don’t mind because he’s still trying to keep it out of your sloppy, drooly way, fisting the fabric and giving you a peak of a soft brown nipple, hard and aching.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please please please,” he babbles, the hand on your neck moving to the back of your head, shaking as he follows your bobbing movements. His dick is thick, long and warm in the cavern of your mouth, the mushroom tip pink and slimy with pre, and you swallow every drop a little over enthusiastically. Humming and moaning and whimpering, you’re practically dripping through your underwear, positive you’ve wet through to the carpet.

And when you breathe in through your nose and take him as far as you can, the tip of your nose just shy of his pubes; the two of you practically lose your minds. Yuuji trembles above you, hunched over and incoherent; and you shimmy your thighs together in a squeeze of relief, drool coating the base of his cock and tears skimming your lashes.

“Y-you’re so hot baby look at ya’,” he can see the way you’re wiggling your hips, craning over you with sleepy eyes and heavy pants, “why - why don’t you play with your pretty pussy? Seein’ as you’re practically milking me dry,” Yuuji’s words come out slurred and muffled, as if his mouth were socked with cotton. A large hand comes down on the back of your neck, sweetly holding you and a stark contrast to the way his cock jerks in the tunnel of your throat as you deftly skim your fingers into your shorts. 

The angle is all wrong and you can barely feel the hard bud of your clit but you can feel the pearly arousal that sloshes around your underwear, loud but not loud enough over the slurps and kisses over his cock. You make it work, squirming and widening your knees a little but it still isn’t really enough, not that it mattered because he’s enough, Yuuji is always enough to get you off whether he’s touching you or not. And the heavy head of his cock popping from the seal of your lips is just that right kind of salacious that has your mind fuzzy and dizzy with lust. 

“Ah - fuck!” Yuuji chokes on his spit, throwing himself back against the folded futon that serves as the padding of the couch, one arm slumped over his eyes as you focus your attention on the root of his cock, looking up at him through your lashes and fluttering them when your index finger catches on your clit. His breathing comes out in heaving huffs, chest expanding gloriously above you and abs flexing with every clench of his belly. It’s heaven to you, a vision you always knew would be one to keep locked away in the deepest caverns of your mind, something precious and treasured and so disgustingly debauched. You slow your ministrations for a moment, content with just watching the reactions your boyfriend has when you twist your hand, squeeze a little harder, suckle at the vein on the side of his dick. Yuuji seems to appreciate the little break, catching his breath and adjusting his hips, jutting his length into your cheek and it’s amusing that such a kind boy doesn’t even apologise for it. 

“D’you want me to make you cum? Or - do you wanna fuck my mouth?” a long, drawn out groan answers you and you return it with a long lick right up the thickening root of him, 

“I - get to choose?” Yuuji’s voice is hoarse, cracked and strained from his addictive noises, deep with lust and something a little darker, “Really?” 

At your nod, you delve back into the leaking warmth of him. Yuuji gives a strangled grunt and gives his hips a little experimental thrust, pulsing upwards into the deeper depths of your throat. He seems torn between letting you do as you pleased, and giving in to his most debauched fantasies. He’d been given oral before, blowies or whatever his friends called them but they were nothing like you, none of them paid attention to his every reaction and noise, none of them gave him any choice or option on what he wanted to do. So to have you licking him deep and soft and all things sweet, eyes open and questioning with little bias; he’s all a fluster. 

“You - you can do it, I want you to make me cum baby,” the words were supposed to be gentle, coaxing, all the things Yuuji wished he was to you but his jaw is set and his voice is more of a growl, especially when he spots your tongue lathing over the base, leaving a trail and a string of drool. He tips his head back, bottom lip tugged into his mouth and his thighs drop open further, 

“But make sure you don’t stop playing with that pretty pussy, want you to feel just as good as me,” a whimper answers him and Yuuji isn’t sure if he’ll actually last as long as he thought he would, as he conveyed through his words. And he definitely isn’t sure because you abandon his cock in favour of his balls for a moment, and he’s suddenly all tight in his belly. You’re still squeezing and jerking and flexing your fingers around him, but your wet little tongue is skimming over the soft skin of his sac and drawing them into your mouth with the most wanton moan he think he’s ever heard. You’re visibly more aroused than before, wrist working diligently in your underwear, stretched tight and a much darker colour than earlier, but Yuuji can’t focus on your pleasure right now, for once, for the first time in your relationship. All he can think about is himself and how good it feels to have his pretty girl absolutely worshipping his cock, and he doesn’t care that you’re getting sloppy in your clouded lust; you’re back to sucking him feverently and whining around the thick of him. 

“Gonna - baby you’re gonna make me c -,” His admission has you shuffling even closer, abandoning your poor, suffering cunt and slapping a gooey, sticky hand on his thigh to brace yourself. 

And it's the wet little smear you leave behind, webbing between your fingers and joining the pre dripping down his cock as you hold him with both hands that has him positively howling your name. Hips pulse into your face, forcing his cock deeper as it swells down your throat and shoots hot, wet and salty into your belly. A hand comes down to his hip, the other fisting the shirt over his chest and catching on his nipple with a startled yelp. You’re strong in your restraint, letting him thrash and writhe beneath you, keeping yourself rooted in his lap and swallowing everything you can, shivering at the taste and the feeling of his cock kicking and twitching with every pulse of his orgasm. 

“I gotta - you gotta get off baby,” you don’t realise that he’s come down, don’t realise that he’s still twitching but with overstimulation and softening against the limp muscle of your tongue, “I can’t, I can’t do another yet, m’sorry but -,” Yuuji, through the jelly-like jitter of his limbs, heaves you off the floor and into his lap with a grunt, “That was the best head anyone’s ever given me,”

You’re shy all of a sudden, as if you’re not still swallowing the remains of his spend and sporting the slickest arousal you’ve ever experienced. Yuuji kisses your nose with an appreciative smile, 

“Really? I just wanted to do it y’know? You make me wanna suck your cock all the time, s’just something about you,” you tuck your chin into your chest, almost giving in to the little kisses he pecks all over your face, stopping at your temple and deflating with a sigh at your admission, 

“You’re cute baby,” his cock twitches from where it’s nestled between his stomach and your cotton covered crotch, “But a meanie, I swear you’ll be the death of me, thought I was gonna black out at one point,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” your fingers twist into the fine hairs at the back of his neck, sagging into him and kissing him with a deflated breath. Yuuji licks into your mouth lazily, hands squeezing up the length of your waist and back down again, urging your hips into a soft grind. You’re still sat up on your knees, so all you can feel is the syrupy chafe of your underwear over your cunt and you huff, 

“S’okay pretty girl, I got you,” Yuuji smiles at your apparent distress, “You want me to return the favour huh? Let you fuck my mouth instead? That what you want?” his long, thick fingers trickle into your underwear, choking at the slick he finds there, slipping and sliding over the swell of your clit, “Fuck - you got so fuckin’ worked up, bet you won’t last long, not as long as me,”

“Just, I don’t know - Yuuji, please,” a little circle of your hips puts his fingers where you need them most, “Do something or I’m gonna cry,” he shushes you, kissing you again with a loud smack, 

“I got you baby, gonna make this pretty pussy feel better, I promise,” Yuuji physically flinches when he pulls his hand from between your thighs, covered nearly to the wrist with your arousal and he inhales deep, dark, nostrils flaring at your scent. His tongue drops between his fingers, slurping up to the knuckles and down to the callouses on his palms, eyes fluttering and reopening to stare at you, “You taste insane - fuck - ‘m gonna eat you so fucking good, you’re not gonna know what hit you,”

all rights reserved © matchamiko. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 2: "The one with the purring traitor" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: You and Frankie hash out the details of your fabricated story, all while enduring the blatant betrayal of your own cat and your brother’s relentless teasing. WC: 8.4K

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so happy to see how much you enjoyed the first chapter of TBA! Your comments mean the world to me—I absolutely love reading them, and I hope you love this part just as much <3 let me know what u think ;) Don't forget to lmk if u want to be added to the tag list, and follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications <3

Friday, August 9th. One day before the party.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound breaking the quiet of your bedroom. You set your book down, its pages splaying open across the blanket, and rolled onto your side to grab your phone. The screen lit up.

[Unknown number]: Outside.

You exhaled sharply, a breath that sounded louder than it needed to. Your stomach twisted, a faint ripple of nerves spreading through you. 

Five minutes later, Frankie stood in the center of your living room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His brows were drawn together, his expression impatient as he watched you move around the kitchen. The faint smell of tea leaves and honey filled the air as you poured hot water into your mug.

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush,” he said finally, his voice carrying the faintest edge of irritation.

You glanced at him briefly, your hand stirring the tea as if to say he could wait.

“What’s the rush? The party isn’t until tomorrow.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes flicking to the books stacked on the coffee table, the blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, the quiet clutter of a space lived in but not always tidy. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing lightly against the floor, the impatience practically radiating off him.

You blew on your tea, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug.

“You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing around like that,” you said as you walked past him, your hand cradling the warm mug. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the couch across from you. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“What do you have that isn’t hot?”

You settled into the couch, the mug resting on the coffee table in front of you. The surface was cluttered with your used stickynotes, a few receipts, coasters, and an old pen you didn’t remember leaving there.

“Water, iced tea, a couple of cans of soda.”

Frankie leaned back, only to be interrupted by Mr. Darcy, your perpetually attention-seeking cat. The tabby appeared from the side of the couch, his soft meow high-pitched and delicate as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s leg. You frowned, betrayed.

Frankie leaned down, his hand immediately stroking the cat’s fur, and Mr. Darcy responded with a loud purr.

“What kind of soda?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my guest was royalty. Next time, send a list of your preferences in advance, princess.”

He lifted his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer with an expression that was almost amused. Almost.

“I just asked what fucking flavor. Relax.”

“Coke.”

“I’ll take one.”

You stood with an exaggerated sigh, letting it linger in the air, but refrained from commenting on his lack of manners. The word please seemed allergic to his vocabulary, but you didn’t feel like pointing it out. Not today.

When you returned, you set the can of Coke down on the glass coaster on the table and took your seat again. Frankie reached for the drink, his fingers brushing the cold metal as he popped it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the quiet, mingling with the soft hum of Mr. Darcy’s purring at his feet.

“Okay, tell me about them,” you said, your tone clipped and businesslike, as if the two of you were about to negotiate the terms of a merger. You folded your hands neatly on your lap and fixed your gaze on him. Frankie, meanwhile, was focused on the can of Coke he’d just opened. He tilted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made you glance away, irritated for no good reason.

When he finally set the can down on the coaster, he looked up at you.

“My mother’s name is Helena. She’s kind, easygoing. And observant. She’ll be watching us like a hawk the entire time. She already has her doubts about... all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entirety of the situation. “So we can’t get sloppy.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“That’s going to be difficult, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’ll have to cooperate.”

You scoffed, an expression of mock offense crossing your face.

“I have to cooperate?”

“Yes. You.”

“Believe it or not, Francisco,” you said, leaning forward ,“I’m very nice. Easy to get along with. Mothers adore me.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a laugh.

“That may be,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But I can’t risk even one slip in this... circus. If we let our mutual... our mutual thing show, she’ll catch on immediately. Believe me.”

You mirrored his arched eyebrow, matching his energy.

“Fine. Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” You let the words hang for a moment, watching as he relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Then you added, sweetly, “I just want you to remember, at all times, that no matter how nice and lovely I am, it’s all a lie.”

Frankie leaned back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Noted.”

The he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes as if to physically expel his frustration. His hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing the skin in an absentminded gesture, like he was trying to ground himself. Mr. Darcy, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the couch beside him, his sleek tail flicking against Frankie’s arm. The cat’s head butted into him in what looked like a gentle plea for attention. You watched the scene for a moment, torn between amusement and suspicion, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just get a grip, okay? You can’t react to everything I say like it’s a personal attack.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with your cup in hand.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was preparing for some kind of intervention.

“You have to behave yourself too. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how nasty you’re being. Maybe it flies under the radar for most people, but if your mom is as observant as you claim—and she’s your mother, so obviously she knows you well—she’s going to pick up on all those little micro-attitudes. Immediately.”

You delivered the last word like a verdict, your tone carrying the weight of someone speaking to a particularly stubborn child. To your surprise, Frankie didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his expression calm, even thoughtful.  

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good,” you replied, watching him carefully as you lifted your cup to your mouth, the faint steam curling around your face. You let the warm liquid sit on your tongue, satisfied—for now—that you might have just come to an agreement with the most impossible person you’d ever met.

Frankie began describing his family in broad strokes, filling in the blanks with enough detail that you felt as if you were piecing together a portrait of his life. You listened intently, committing everything to memory like a student preparing for a crucial exam. 

Helena, his mother, was the first to come up. She was fifty-nine, a literature teacher with a reputation for being kind but quietly persuasive. Frankie mentioned that she had a particular way of asking questions that felt more like peeling back layers than making polite conversation. She still lived in Austin, sharing a house with his youngest sister, Maia, ever since his father passed away almost two years ago. That detail hung in the air for a beat longer than the others, but he moved on quickly.

Luna, his oldest sister, was next. She was forty, an interior designer based in Boston, and from Frankie’s tone, it was clear she had a strong presence in the family. “Kind, funny, a little overbearing,” he said, his mouth twitching slightly, as if recalling an incident that perfectly illustrated her character. She was married to Henry, a wealthy architect fifteen years her senior. Frankie made a point to say that Henry was a good man—honest and big-hearted—and seemed to mean it. Together, they had a ten-year-old son named Jamie.

Sofía came next, the middle sister. She was thirty-eight and owned a flower shop. Frankie described her as friendly and warm but also hinted at a guardedness beneath her cheerful exterior. She lived in Austin with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Grace, a name that carried an air of quiet reverence when he said it. You wondered what Grace was like, if she carried more of her mother’s warmth or her uncle’s sharp edges. For the sake of her, you hoped for the first option.

Finally, there was Maia. Twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and still living at home with Helena. Frankie hesitated before speaking about her, his expression shifting slightly. “Of all of them,” he said, almost reluctantly, “she’s the most complicated.” Not because she was difficult or unpleasant—quite the opposite. Maia, he explained, was the kind of person who could see through walls, so perceptive it was almost unnerving. “She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful,” he warned, his tone heavy with certainty. 

By the time he finished, you felt like you’d been handed a dossier. Each name and detail was a thread you knew you’d need to hold tightly. You nodded as he spoke, mentally sorting the names and faces into a map of relationships you’d need to navigate. This was going to be more than a performance—it was going to be a test.

Frankie exhaled, slapping his palm against his thigh with a finality that felt rehearsed, like he was drawing a line under the conversation.

“That’s it, I think,” he said, his tone flat as his eyes lingered on you. 

But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook. Squinting slightly, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned back into the couch.

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head as if that might give you a different angle on him. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me,” he replied with unearned confidence. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, letting the sound punctuate the silence before glancing away. Amusement tugged at the corners of your lips as you brought your gaze back to him.

“I don’t know anything about you. All I know is what little Santi’s told me, what I’ve overheard here and there... that’s it.”

“That’s something,” Frankie interjected, leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his chin with a smugness that made your fingers itch to knock him down a peg. “Go on, then. Tell me what you know.”

His expression dared you, and you met it with a smirk of your own.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up straighter and pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. “You’re in your thirties, you live alone, you’re a pilot, you like beer... Oh, and apparently, you can devour a whole burger and fries in under ten minutes.”

Frankie snorted, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or call you ridiculous. He held your gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to wait you out. But the smirk stayed on your face, unwavering, and eventually, he sighed. 

“I’m thirty-five,” he said finally, his voice measured and calm, as though reciting facts from a resume. “I live alone, yeah. Used to be in the CAG, but I retired a few years ago. Personal reasons. Now I’m teaching pilots-in-training over at the JPA.”

“Oh, right, I already knew that. That’s where you met Santi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what were you doing there? He never told me much.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, sounding either annoyed or uncomfortable—it was hard to tell. “Do you know what CAG stands for?”

"Tell me."

“Combat Application Group,” Frankie said, his tone steady, measured. “Do you know what that is?”

You arched an eyebrow, shaking your head. 

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Then they’re doing their job right. They change the name every so often. Some people know it as Delta Force.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if testing how much you could handle. “I was part of the CAG for most of my military career.”

For the first time, you found yourself leaning forward, your interest genuine, your usual quips momentarily silenced. Frankie seemed to notice, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness never left his face. 

“Why did you retire? What happened?”

For a fleeting second, his eyebrows twitched.

“Personal issues,” he said again.

You exhaled through your nose, sitting back slightly.

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I know that?” 

He sighed. Shaking his head just enough to let you know he wasn’t budging, he replied:

“No one in my family is going to ask you about it.”

You studied him, your eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any crack in the armor he wore so carefully. But Frankie didn’t flinch. His shoulders remained squared, his gaze firm, the set of his mouth resolute. Whatever lay behind the personal thing was locked away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to hand you the key. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you nodded, more to yourself than to him.

"Okay, I get it,” you said with a sigh, letting your gaze fall to your hands resting in your lap. For a moment, you traced invisible patterns on your palm, your tone edging toward resignation. “What do you want me to tell you about me?” 

“Nothing. I know enough.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean. Santi has told me what’s necessary. I know enough to get by.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your tone daring. 

Frankie gave you a slow, confident smile, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

“You’re twenty-nine years old. Santi’s your only brother. You studied Literature, and you’ve been running your dad’s bookshop for, what, six years now?” He paused briefly, letting the words settle before continuing. “You like cats. Movies—especially horror movies. You love the cold, which is ironic since you’re from Austin, where it’s basically summer all year. And you’re... well, I wouldn’t describe you as outdoorsy or... or adventurous.” 

He glanced at you with a faint smirk just as your expression twisted in a mixture of surprise and mild disgust. His hand dropped to pet Mr. Darcy, who had curled up beside him, purring softly. “Oh, and your cat’s name is Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy," you corrected him. "Santi told you all that?” 

Frankie shook his head, his focus still on your pet, his hand moving in lazy strokes along Mr. Darcy’s back.

“He didn’t tell me outright. But he let it be known. You just have to listen.” 

There was something about his tone that irked you—a subtle but undeniable air of superiority, as if he’d decoded your entire existence from a handful of anecdotes. You studied him for a moment longer, debating whether to challenge him further, but Mr. Darcy’s contented purring seemed to deflate your frustration. For now. 

“Well, I… Well,” you faltered, unsure of what to say. "Okay, I was thinking, what should I wear to the party?"

“Something nice. Not too fancy. But cute. You know, approachable."

"Sure," you muttered, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he smoothed a hand over the cat’s fur.

"You have to make a good impression. But not too good. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Be nice, but don’t go overboard."

"What’s the point, then? I thought my job was to be the awesome girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Frankie leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and gave a slow shake of his head like you’d just said something profoundly silly.

"Yes, but don’t overdo it. I don’t need my family asking me about you for weeks after. Tomorrow’s the first and only time they’ll see you, so what’s the point?"

"What a waste," you whispered to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “But fine, your family, your rules. So, what should I bring your mom as a gift?”

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered."

“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” you said, letting a touch of mockery creep into your voice. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal to you.”

Frankie snorted. "If this is what it takes to stop them from setting me up with every woman they know, trust me, I’m going all in. No room for half-measures here."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the familiar clutter of your living space, before a long yawn interrupted the silence.

“But why do they even care so much about you having a girlfriend? I mean, I get it—you’re, let’s say, not the easiest person to tolerate, and small talk probably feels like torture for you. But I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who needs his mom to play matchmaker,” you said, voice dripping with just the right mix of sarcasm and curiosity as you tilted your head.

“That’s a bold comment coming from someone who had to invent a fake boyfriend because her ex, who dumped her for someone else, invited her to his wedding.”

Fair. That stung, but you couldn't bring yourself to be genuinely angry. Instead, you let out a small, wry smile, your ego only slightly bruised.

Frankie continued, unfazed by the fact that he had clearly made his point. “And I have no problem getting someone,” he said, stretching his legs out casually. “I just don’t want to. I don’t feel like dating anyone, much less getting romantically involved. But of course, they don’t get that. They think I need to settle down, find a woman, all that ‘commitment’ shit.”

For a brief moment, you let your mind wander, imagining Frankie next to someone. His type, you wondered. What would she look like? Would she resemble you in any way? Definitely not, you thought. You hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, and then asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of you was genuinely curious.

“And why don’t you want to date anyone? You’re not one of those guys with an eternal commitment problem, are you?”

Frankie took a moment to think about it. He leaned back, looking almost lost in thought, his eyes distant for a second. Then, in a flash, Mr. Darcy leapt onto his lap, pulling him back into the present moment with his typical disregard for anything that resembled personal space. Frankie shifted a little, adjusting the cat so it was comfortably curled on him.

“My last relationship didn’t end well,” he said suddenly, his voice unexpectedly serious. “We were together for about a year and a half. She broke up with me a little over a year ago. It wasn’t exactly my best moment, but her reason was that I wasn’t what she needed.” He paused, his gaze unfocused for a second, as if reliving the memory. “I tried to tell her I’d make the changes, that I really wanted to, but she didn’t care. So we broke up. And then, like two weeks later, I found out she’d been cheating on me with some guy from work—does that sound good enough for you?”

You blinked, processing it all, and felt a slight pang of sympathy, which you hadn’t expected.

“Well, that sucks,” you said, glancing down at the floor, feeling a bit awkward. You bit your lower lip, then looked back at him, unable to hide the trace of empathy in your voice. “But it makes sense now... I think."

Mr. Darcy, seemingly done with his intrusion, hopped off Frankie’s lap and sprawled on the floor instead, rolling onto his back in that exaggerated, dramatic way cats do when they’re probably overheating. His belly was exposed, a show of complete vulnerability.

"Yeah. Well. I guess," Frankie said, leaning forward as if the weight of his own words had just fully settled in. He rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, his hands becoming a tight knot as if trying to physically hold everything together. Then something seemed to click in his mind. He looked up at you, the shift in his expression almost imperceptible. “Have you talked to Santi about this?”

You furrowed your brow, a little thrown off by the question.

"No, I thought you were going to tell him."

Frankie shook his head. "I didn’t tell him anything. I thought you were going to tell him."

You clicked your tongue, trying to shake the odd tension settling in your chest.

"We should tell him, don’t you think?" Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. "Although I'm sure he'll think this is a bad idea."

When you opened the door, Santi’s smile appeared instantly, like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled you into a hug, enveloping you in that unmistakable warmth only a brother could give. It was absurd how much you’d missed him, considering you’d seen him just two days ago. But that was the thing about Santi—he had this way of making you feel like everything was fine, or at least like it could be.

When he let go, his smile lingered. But then his gaze shifted past you, toward the living room, where Frankie stood by the couch, arms awkwardly crossed, caught somewhere between waiting and retreating.

Santi’s expression changed so fast it was almost comical—his smile collapsed into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together, eyes widening like someone had yanked a curtain back too quickly.

“Frankie?” he said, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked from Frankie to you and back again, his tone laced with the unspoken demand for an explanation. “What happened?” He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, nudging him as if to make sure he was real.

“Hey, man,” Frankie said, managing a small smile as he accepted Santi’s hug. His voice was casual, but you could feel the tension beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.

Your stomach knotted, the weight of the moment pressing into you. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have agreed to Frankie’s deal, not like this, not without more thought. But it was too late to undo it now, wasn’t it? The pieces were already in motion, and there was no way to unring a bell.

Half an hour later, Santiago was sitting in the couch across from the two of you, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his expression shifting between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. He hadn’t spoken in a while, too busy digesting everything you’d just explained. When he finally did, his words cut through the silence like a whip.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. Are you crazy?” he asked, though his incredulous smile suggested he thought maybe you were joking.

You and Frankie were perched on opposite ends of the couch, as if a force field separated you, like your bodies were mutually allergic to the idea of being any closer. Frankie had his arms resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You sat with your elbow propped on the armrest, your cheek resting against your hand, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Santiago asked, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work,” you said, the firmness in your voice at odds with the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It’s not that complicated. Harry’s already met Frankie, so that part’s fine. We go to the wedding, stay a little while, and then leave. Tomorrow? Same thing. We show up, I do my forgettable bit, and then we’re out. Easy.”

Santiago raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“¿Easy? Your mom knows me, man,” he said, turning to Frankie with an accusatory tilt of his head. “You don’t think it’s going to be complicated if she thinks you’re dating my sister?”

“I’m not planning on telling her she’s your sister,” Frankie said. He sat up straighter, his hands tightening into fists briefly before he relaxed them again. “This is a one-time thing. I promise you, it’s not going to lead to trouble. It’s just a favor. A transaction. Nothing more.”

“And what happens when they run into each other again?” Santiago asked, his voice rising slightly as he gestured between the two of you.

“How likely is that, Santi?” you shot back, your brow furrowing in irritation.

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward like he had you cornered.

“My wedding is in a few months, smartass. Frankie’s mom is invited. What’s your plan then?”

The room fell into a charged silence. Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that. Neither had Frankie, apparently, because when you turned your head, you found him looking at you for the first time since this entire mess had started. For one fleeting moment, your eyes met, a shared look of complicity—and, more importantly, desperation.

“Of course, you didn’t think of that,” Santi said, his voice cutting through the growing tension like a whip. He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to deal with you both. When he looked up again, his expression was pure exasperation.

“God, you guys seriously make me desperate. Are you two ever going to be normal with each other? First, I have to put up with years of your petty, hateful attitudes, and now this?” He gestured between you and Frankie as if the very sight of you sitting there made him tired. “Do you want to kill me? Is that the plan? Seriously, I’m asking—do you both want me dead?”

The sheer absurdity of his words made you laugh, even though you tried to swallow it.

“Oh my God, Santi, you’re so dramatic,” you said, shaking your head, though you were half-smiling.

“Dramatic?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Hey, man, look,” Frankie cut in, like someone trying to defuse a bomb. He leaned forward slightly, his hands open, his tone edging toward apologetic. “I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll tell them she’s your sister—no big deal. And then I’ll come up with something to explain how we ‘broke up’ on the best possible terms. No drama, no mess, okay? I swear.”

You nodded quickly, eager to latch onto his plan.

“Exactly. This can stay simple, we’ll just say we broke up over something normal. Totally amicable, decided to stay friends. Easy.” Your tone softened as you leaned toward him, more pleading now. “Really, Santi. Please, please don’t get mad.”

Santi let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.

“I’m not mad,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he might not be entirely convinced of that. His eyes opened, and he looked at you with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “I’m just surprised. Out of all the people in the world, you and Frankie are the ones pretending to date?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes as the irritation bubbled up. “It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d run into Harry in the middle of fucking nowhere. Besides, this wouldn’t have even happened if you—” you jabbed a finger in Santi’s direction, “—had gone looking for me in Dallas instead of sending Frankie. Or, I don’t know, if you’d given me a proper warning. I could’ve found another way home.”

Santi’s eyebrows shot up, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d physically shoved him.

“Oh, now this is my fault?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity. He pointed to himself for emphasis, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation.

Next to you, Frankie snorted, shaking his head in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he thought he was being clever. You turned sharply toward him, glaring.

“Do you have something to say, Francisco?” 

Santiago let out a breathy, humorless laugh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Frankie, meanwhile, scratched his chin, clearly deliberating how to phrase whatever was on his mind without making things worse. Or maybe he was just stalling, dragging out the moment for the fun of it.

“Yeah. First of all, I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove to this Harry guy. He’s marrying someone else, isn’t he? I doubt he cares whether or not you have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, 'cause you’re the paragon of honesty, aren’t you?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest now threatening to spill out.

“Sure,” Frankie said with an infuriating nod, leaning back slightly as if to make room for whatever you were about to throw at him next.

You leaned toward him, unable to resist. “It’s not like you made up a girlfriend or anything, right? Tell me, Francisco, wouldn’t it have been easier to just act like a real man and tell your mom you don’t want to be with anyone? Instead of, you know, lying like a coward? Or is that too scary for you?”

Frankie laughed then, a low, sarcastic sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He shifted closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and taunting.

“He’s with someone else. He doesn't care about you. Get over it—”

“No one loves you—"

“Okay, fuckin' stop it!” Santiago shot up from his seat, his hands landing firmly on his hips as he stared at you with an expression that teetered between disbelief and outright despair. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s how you’re going to convince people you’re together? What’s the plan tomorrow, huh? What are you going to do when people actually talk to you? This isn’t even remotely believable.”

“I know how to act,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you leaned into the challenge. You tilted your head, trying for a smug expression, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably undermined it.

Frankie let out a laugh beside you.

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sure I do,” you retorted, fixing him with a defiant look. “You’ll see tomorrow, Francisco. I’ll be super—”

“You almost shit yourself at the diner the other day, what are you even talking about? I saved you—”

“Oh my God, stop!” Santi cut in, throwing his hands up in a desperate plea for silence. He made a horizontal motion with his hands, like a referee calling a foul. “Stand up. Now.”

“Why?” you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Just. Stand. Up.” Santi said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, glancing at Frankie as if he might somehow explain what was going on. He was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, like he didn’t particularly want to comply but knew better than to argue.

With a resigned sigh, you rose from your spot, the tension in your shoulders apparent even in the way you stood. The second you moved, Mr.Darcy wasted no time, sliding into the space you’d just vacated.

Santiago leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unnervingly calm. He watched you both like he was observing a particularly amusing experiment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone almost conversational. “Kiss each other.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Frankie, equally caught off guard, tilted his head toward Santi. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Kiss,” Santi repeated, his voice louder this time, like he was explaining something to a particularly dense child. He gestured between the two of you. “Frankie, kiss her.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie added, shaking his head vehemently, his face scrunching up like the very idea was offensive.

Santiago raised his eyebrows, his calm demeanor giving way to something more pointed.

“What, you didn’t think this through? How the fuck are you planning to convince anyone you’re dating if you can’t even manage a little kiss?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your brain struggling to process the absurdity of what he was suggesting. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frankie’s jaw tighten, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Santi seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. There was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, his gaze darting between you and Frankie like he was watching the climax of a particularly entertaining play.

He was savoring this—your awkwardness, your obvious discomfort. To him, this wasn’t just funny; it was justice. A kind of poetic payback for the years of chaos and petty feuding you and Frankie had inflicted on him. The sheer satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but also, somehow, undeniably deserved.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his hands in mock encouragement. “Go on, lovebirds. Show me how convincing this great plan of yours is.”

You glanced at Frankie, hoping for some sign he was going to end this absurdity. But he wasn’t looking at you, or at Santiago, or even at the floor like a normal person. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. His hands rested on his hips, fingers tapping idly against his belt, while his foot shifted incessantly, a nervous rhythm you couldn’t unhear.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked Santi, your voice sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

He barely suppressed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gave a little shrug.

“Of course it is. Look at you two. You can’t even conceive of the idea of a teeny, tiny, innocent little kiss.” He paused, his expression shifting into something mockingly thoughtful. “You know, Fish,” he added, turning his attention to Frankie, “your mom invited me to her birthday tomorrow.”

That got Frankie’s attention. His head snapped toward Santiago, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s a shame,” Santi continued, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated regret. “But I can’t go. I’d love to see the two of you embarrass yourselves in front of an audience. That would’ve been a real treat.”

Frankie clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

But before Santiago could respond, you interrupted.

“Kiss me,” you said, turning to Frankie with a tone that was less a request and more a threat.

Santiago let out a breathy laugh, stifling the full force of his amusement but not entirely succeeding.

Frankie looked at you like you’d just suggested a double homicide, his brows lifting high enough to crease his forehead.

“Come on,” you repeated, stepping closer to him. You let your arms drop to your sides in what you hoped was a disarming gesture, but Frankie didn’t budge. His expression didn’t soften, either—in fact, it somehow got worse. He was looking at you like you’d offered him a plate of raw sewage.

“Come on, Fish,” Santi chimed in, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “One little kiss and that’s it. What’s the big deal?”

You stayed where you were, holding Frankie’s gaze, your jaw tightening as you willed him to just get this over with. But he remained firmly rooted in place, his face still twisted in disgust.

And then something shifted in your chest. It was small at first, but it grew quickly—an anger, sharp and undeniable. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the idea of kissing you that horrifying? It wasn’t like this was real. It wasn’t like it meant anything.

You snorted, shaking your head as determination overtook you. Without giving it another second of thought, you crossed the space between you in a single, decisive motion.

“Wait, what the fuck are you—” Frankie started, but his words cut off as your hands gripped the sides of his face and your lips crashed against his.

The kiss lasted no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were softer than you’d expected, warm and surprisingly still. Your eyes stayed firmly shut, as if that could somehow make the situation less mortifying.

When you pulled back, it was abrupt, almost violent. You jerked away from him and immediately crossed your arms again, your defenses snapping back into place.

Frankie stood there, completely still, his face frozen in an expression of shock. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“It’s not that hard, Francisco,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned away and sat back down on the couch, this time right next to Mr. Darcy. “I’m a woman, not an alien. It’s not so terrible.”

Your brother was staring at you, his expression a mixture of delight and disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking in the scene like it was the best entertainment he’d had in years. Then, with a wide grin, he walked over to Frankie and delivered a solid punch to his stomach.

Frankie clicked his tongue in annoyance, snapping out of his daze with a low groan.

"I’m already regretting this," he muttered then, his voice low but sharp, as he turned his back to you and Santi. 

“You can’t regret it now,” you called after him, your tone sharper than you meant. It was enough to stop him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see his face. He didn’t look angry, not exactly. There was no sharpness, no fire. Just this quiet disappointment.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said. "You were the one who insisted. Or have you forgotten that already?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Of course not. I just—” He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it through.”

From his spot against the wall, Santi let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watched the exchange unfold like it was a show he’d seen before.

“Yeah we did,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “The issue isn’t that. The issue is you chickening out. You were fine until Santi showed up.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault again?” Santi asked.

You shrugged, noncommittal.

“Okay, well,” Santi said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Do what you want. It’s none of my business. Just—” he gestured vaguely, like he was brushing something away, “be a grown-up about it. And don’t screw it up, yeah? Because, honestly, of the three of us, I’m the one who has to deal with your shit.”

“We won’t cause trouble,” Frankie said, his voice quieter now but clear. He glanced at you, then at his best friend. “You have my word. I’ll keep it together. I'll be respectful. No bullshit. I promise.”

Santi nodded, his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. He reached out and clapped Frankie on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sure, man. I trust you. Just—” He laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Don’t be such a child.”

He turned to you then, something knowing in his gaze, before looking back at Frankie. His laugh came deeper this time, warm and unguarded.

“Oh, I know exactly how this is going to end,” he said, shaking his head.

He didn’t stay much longer, mentioning something about dinner plans with Yovanna and promising to call tomorrow. The air felt lighter as he left, like he’d taken the weight of the moment with him, leaving only the two of you standing in its wake.

A few moment later, Frankie was ready to go too, or at least he looked like he was. He sat across from you now, his posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated, like he was trying to project a calm he didn’t entirely feel. Your cat, utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, rubbed insistently up and down his leg, purring loud enough to fill the silence. Frankie absentmindedly ran his fingers along his fur, the gesture soft, almost tender.

From where you sat on the opposite end of the couch, you shifted slightly, trying to tread carefully. Your voice, when it came out, was low, calculated even—an attempt not to poke at the fragile truce that had settled between you.

"You know Santi’s right, don’t you?" you asked, watching as Frankie’s head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto yours. "I mean, I don’t know how you are with your actual girlfriends—if you’re, like, affectionate, or into, you know, public displays of affection or whatever. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to get over it."

"I don’t have anything to get over. We just need to stick to the basics."

"Aha, the basics," you echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, okay. But you couldn’t even kiss me without looking like it was physically painful."

"That’s not fair. You caught me off guard, that’s all. The context was weird. Santi was watching—it threw me off." He shook his head, his discomfort practically radiating off of him.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you let out a short laugh, the sound more exasperated than amused.

"Your whole family is going to be watching tomorrow."

You stood abruptly, the movement carrying your frustration with it, and crossed the room in a few quick steps. You didn’t look back as you walked into the open kitchen, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass from the counter. The sound of water filling the glass was the only noise for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

Frankie didn’t say anything right away. When you turned around, your glass now empty in your hand, he was still in the living room, his focus firmly on your cat. He scratched behind his ears like he hadn’t just been called out, like he could stay there indefinitely and avoid the conversation entirely.

But then he stood, moving toward you with an unhurried calm that didn’t quite match the unease in his eyes. He stopped a few feet from you, leaning one hip against the kitchen island as if he needed something to ground himself.

"Your mother," you said, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than you intended, "your sisters, your aunts and uncles, your mom’s friends—they’re all going to be watching."

Frankie sighed. "It’s different." 

"Different how?"

"Because Santi’s my best friend. And you’re his sister. It was weird."

"And this is all fake, Francisco," you said, gesturing vaguely with your hand, like you were pointing out something so glaringly obvious it hardly needed to be said. "How old are you again? Forty?"

"Thirty-five," he replied, deadpan.

"Right. Almost forty. And you can’t do something as simple as kiss a woman. Yes, I’m your best friend’s sister. Yes, you clearly dislike me. And yes, I clearly dislike you too. But it’s just a kiss," you said, your tone sharp, cutting. Like you were explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly slow child. "A fucking—"

The word caught in your throat mid-sentence, stolen by the sudden, startling pressure of Frankie’s hands on your face.

Before you could react—before you could even think—he was there. Close, impossibly close, his fingers firm but steady as they cupped your jaw, his palms warm against your skin. His eyes barely met yours before his mouth was on yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that one unexpected point of contact.

His lips moved against yours with a precision that felt calculated, like he wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t holding back either. They parted yours gently, and his breath mingled with yours, each second stretching into something that felt far longer.

Three seconds. Four, maybe five. It was enough for you to notice, to feel how his thumb brushed against the side of your face, to register the faint scent of his cologne. Enough for it to completely throw you.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

He released you, stepping back without ceremony. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you from his full height, his expression unreadable. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound so small but so maddeningly smug it made your blood simmer.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You were rooted to the spot, your thoughts a scrambled mess as you tried to catch up with what had just happened. Your breathing was uneven now, a shallow rhythm you couldn’t quite control.

Frankie turned away, shaking his head slowly as if he were frustrated—with you, with himself, with the entire situation. His hands flexed at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor.

When he finally looked back up at you, his scowl was sharp enough to cut. There was something accusatory in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he were blaming you for... what? Letting him kiss you? Letting him prove a point?

“I can do that, no problem,” Frankie said, his voice dripping with confidence, his expression so self-assured it almost felt rehearsed. He stood tall, chest slightly puffed, radiating an air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “Stop being so fucking insufferable all the time, and maybe this whole thing would be easier.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to hit back, to say something sharp and cutting that would wipe that smug look off his face. Insult him, rattle him—anything to remind him that if this situation was unbearable, it wasn’t because of you alone.

But no words came.

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t force yourself to speak. It wasn’t just that you were angry—though you were. It was that he was watching you now, not with his usual indifference but with something sharper, something closer to scrutiny. Like he was waiting for your reaction, ready to pounce on it, to use it against you.

Frankie leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself had shrunk, like the air had turned heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was uncomfortable in a way it had never been before.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness, and forced yourself to meet his eyes.

"Thank God you’re not my real boyfriend," you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. You tilted your head, letting a sly smile curve your lips as you arched a single eyebrow. "I’d rather kiss a toad."

The corner of Frankie’s mouth twitched, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush off your jab entirely. But then he let out a quiet laugh, one he didn’t even try to hide, his expression softening into something teasing.

"You’ve got a lot of experience with those, don’t you?" 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft, incredulous snort. Your gaze drifted to the empty glass of water sitting on the counter, the condensation forming a faint ring beneath it. You should’ve said something else, something sharp to cut through the tension still lingering in the air, but you didn’t.

Frankie straightened up, peeling himself away from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen island. He stretched slightly, his movements unhurried, one hand brushing absently over his stomach like he was just waking up from a nap. Then he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around something—his keys, you realized—as if confirming they were still there.

He turned without a word and walked over to the couch, where Mr. Darcy had curled up in his usual spot. Frankie gave the cat a quick pat on the head, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened again. When he turned back to you, there was something almost playful in his expression, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow," he said, his voice casual but firm, like it was already decided. "Don’t keep me waiting."

You blinked at him, disbelief washing over your face. From your spot leaning against the counter, you tilted your head slightly, trying to gauge if he was serious—or if he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Or what?" you shot back, your voice dripping with mockery. "You’re going to leave without me?"

Frankie paused at your door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll come up and get you," he said, his tone low and almost threatening.

Before you could reply, he pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door with a gesture that felt vaguely theatrical.

You stood there for a moment, motionless, your eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. It was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

Then a sharp, high-pitched meow broke through your thoughts.

You glanced down to see Mr. Darcy padding toward you, his tail held high like a little banner, the picture of feline confidence. He stopped just short of your feet, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. The kind of look that demanded attention.

“Oh, so now you’re coming back to me?” you asked, crouching down to run your fingers over the soft fur on his head. He tilted his chin upward, leaning into the touch like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fawning over Frankie.

"Of course, you traitor," you muttered, scratching behind his ears. "Now that he’s gone, you’ve suddenly remembered I exist."

Mr. Darcy purred in response, his tail curling slightly as he rubbed against your hand, but you snorted softly, the sound carrying a faint edge of betrayal.

"You’re lucky I love you," you said, your voice low, almost conspiratorial. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten how easily you switched sides. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet."

He blinked at you, unbothered, and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Still crouched, you rested your elbow on your knee, glancing toward the closed door where Frankie had disappeared. 

Mr. Darcy meowed again, drawing your attention back, as if reminding you of where your loyalty should lie. For now, you decided, he was forgiven. Just barely.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[corvidae-00]

Joost Klein x drunk!reader in the club🎉🎉🥳 (but she’s like messy drunk and probably needs to be cut off)

A/n: MY FIRST REQUEST 😭😭 THANK YOU ANON! I had tons of fun writing this for you! I hope you like it 😭

CW: weed, drinking, throwing up, swearing, clubbing, LET ME KNOW IF I MISS ANYTHING!!!!!

Word count: 1,297

Getting drunk was something that wasn't the norm for you, not that you didn't drink but you always were lenient at getting DRUNK. But it was a good night, Your boyfriend and his group had just finished a concert that went super well and with adrenaline and energy still high everyone decided the night club was a good location to let loose and enjoy the rest of the night while its young. You of course decided to let loose a little- just a little tonight seeing as your boyfriend Joost was so ecstatic and you had so much energy from being in the crowd who was loud and very very expressive tonight. The club was surprisingly packed and that just added to the excitement even more. “We are going to have a good night, yes?’ your boyfriend whispered into your ear leaning down and kissing your cheek with a smile “of course” you reach back to run your fingers through his hair that was still damp from the many water bottles he had poured over himself to cool down. He shudders and sighs into your ear before standing up and stretching a little looking over at his friends and back over at you sliding you his card from his wallet “Get yourself something to drink- i might lay off the alcohol tonight-” he thinks to himself deciding a few cigarettes and maybe a joint or two sounded a lot better than getting drunk and dealing with a hangover ontop of exhaustion the next morning “then come meet us over there-” he points over at a little less crowded part of the club “maybe me and you can test the dance floor” Joost winks leaning down to kiss both your cheeks which you accepted before catching his lips in a quick kiss “Ill be over in a second” You hummed “Save me a seat-” you requested stepping back towards the crowded bar. Joost smirks and pats his thigh with a wink “you always have one if you ask” He purrs and you can feel your face flush before waving him off “go sit down” You chuckle before turning on your heel going towards the bar ignoring the cat call your boyfriend sends your way but you cant ignore the small smile and a laugh making its way up your throat.

You dont actually know what happened. One drink turned into two before you could stop and then three- you knew you were supposed to go back to meet up with Joost and your friend but the drink you randomly picked out was just- so good- and before you could even step away you had finished the glass and got another. Clearly the alcohol in the drink was a lot stronger than what you were used too as you began to get fuzzy and eager for the next drink- the bartender not realizing how quickly your tolerance was dwindling- and you were also admittedly not aware of how quickly your once steady standing turned unsteady and how quickly vomiting sounded pretty nice, on your 8th glass you ended up leaning on the counter to support yourself drunkenly singing along to the fast paced dutch song blasting out of the stereos at the head of the club- the people around you joining in on your own little concert you didn't even realize was pretty loud. Ordering another drink unable to even lift your arm without feeling tingly or nauseous you felt a hand grab your shoulder “I have a boyfriend you fuck-” You whip your head around and look at the chest that greets you “Ugh men-” You slur and look up at concerned blue eyes “ shit schat- your fucking hammered” Joost mutters smelling the sweet alcoholic drink on your breath “How much did you have?” he questions a little worried as you blink and then giggle a little “You are so hot-” you mutter falling into his arms a little “how did i bag a beauty like youuuu~” you giggle running your fingers over his shoulders and Joost wraps his arms around your waist to support your unsteady weight “so warm” You flutter your eyelashes at him closing your eyes and humming in content “You are drunk” Joost hums smiling down at you a little “How did you get so drunk- i leave you alone for a few minutes” He raises a brow not an ounce of anger or disappointment in his voice- if anything he is amused- you dont ever get drunk so what was different today? Joost reaches behind you grabbing your half drank beverage and taking a swig surprised at the intensity of the Alcohol count “Holy shit-” He blinks and looks down at you “i didnt know you were that hardcore” He laughs dodging your hands which are now trying to touch his face in sheer admiration “it’s nuuthing” you giggle out running your fingers through his hair “mmsoft” you chuckle letting Joost gently pull you away from the bar after confirming with the tender the bill was payed not worried about the expenses. Joost tugs you along letting you drag your feet every now and again not too worried about how heavy you were as you werent heavy at all to him, just a cute bundle of drunken mumblings and yelling at women who even look at Joost- threatening to fight them outside even if you couldnt stand by yourself- your threats or reasonings for being mad not even making sense and thus causing your blonde boyfriend to sheepishly wave and look down at you with slight amusement. Once outside Joost lets you get some fresh air, the club too stuffy and heavy to even think straight let alone feel better after getting hammered. “I dont feel good” you finally slur out hanging your head in defeat “i dont doubt it mijn liefje” he whispers to you rubbing your back before quickly pulling your hair up letting you throw up the insane amount of alcohol in your body. Joost winces and rubs your back with his free hand. You blink slowly once you are able to stand up straight, “Ugh” you groan out holding your head and Joost takes out some napkins he had in his back pocket to wipe your mouth and shake his head “we should get you back to the apartment” Joost offers and you pout “But the night is still younggg” you whine and joost takes your arm wrapping it over his shoulders careful to lean down so he doesnt hurt or stretch your arm out “theres always another night” He hums to you and starts leading you away towards your shared home careful and slow listening to your slurred complaints and compliments mixed in always something about how wonderful his hair looks or how special he is to her.

When they get home Joost is quick to lay you down in the bed and get your shoes off and changing your flimsy drunk figure into a pair of soft pajamas. He kisses your cheek and laughs softly “you are so cute” He admits standing up straight “No you are” You retaliate looking up at him and giggling. Joost quickly leaves the room and comes back with a glass of cold water and sets it down on the night stand before climbing into bed with you discarding his shirt and scooping you towards him. “Feeling any better?” he questions running his fingers through your hair “jus a lil” you mumble snuggling yourself into him the room spinning slightly “Thats okay, ill take care of you tomorrow” Joost hums leaning over and turning the lamp off “Just take it easy” He kisses your forehead “and next time there is alcohol im monitoring you” He jokes laughing at your groans of disagreement

Dutch meaning: schat- babe. Mijn liefje- my darling

A/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY FIRST JOOST FIC!!! Keep the requests coming!!! I love writing for this man

[sanzaibian]

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

[yawchi]

CLEANSE MY SOUL

yukimiya kenyu x gn!reader

includes: pro/model yukki. small soap maker reader. flirting. pining. late night encounters. just cuteness idk.

notes: this has been haunting me. i’m gonna throw up.

Staring at your front door, barefoot and half dressed with your robe thrown lazily around you is not how you intended to be spending your Tuesday–is ten p.m. still considered evening?–night. It’s not how you spend any of your nights, really. But there are knocks coming from your door.

You never get knocks at your door. 

You blink, and again. You had just managed to drift off to sleep after a long day of working your second part time job. After all, small businesses never really fund themselves the first year (or the second, it’s looking like..) Then, you’re taking a step forward.

“Who is it?”

No answer. This worries you. Only two things strike fear in your gut: the all high and the IRS. You’re thinking it’s too late for either to be showing up at your door unannounced. So, with all the poise a half asleep human has at ten in the evening, you reach for the padlock and flip it. You regret it a second later.

Because there, in all of his beautiful, stained glass glory, is none other than Yukimiya Kenyu. Hair wet and wavy, laying charmingly messy atop his head, in a button down that’s halfway undone. No coat–even with it being the middle of January. He’s going to catch a cold.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you level, throw a glance over your shoulder just to double check the time on your stove. 

“Oh,” and he’s breaking, now. Finally relaxing out of his poise in just the smallest way; the tiniest bits of imperfection in a showcase you have never seen from him. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. This is so rude of me. I’ll go–”

“No! No, I mean,” you’re fumbling, reaching out a hand as if you’re going to make a move to grab him. Of course you’re not, that’s absurd. It would be inappropriate. Then again, you’re not sure how appropriate it is for him to be here, at ten p.m. You shrug that off. Nuance or whatever. “What do you need, Yukki?”

And it comes out so easily, tonight. The nickname your client told you to use to address him after the second (or was it third?) meeting. He gazes at your hand, then your face. Rubs the back of his neck and smiles and–if you didn’t know any better–blushes, ever so slightly.

“Soap,” he pauses–potentially at your quirked brow, you find tiredness makes it hard to clock yourself–and fixes his broad shoulders squared again. “I’m out. I guess I left my spare at the agency and I had a late shoot and they were locked up by the time I got back and–”

“You came by this late for soap?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. This is so inappropriate to turn up unexpectedly. I should’ve just bribed security to–”

“I’m out of your soap.”

You want to kick yourself for saying it because the defeated look on Yukimiya’s face at your admission is sick. Not in a way that’s necessarily heavy or holds any true weight, but like staring at a kicked doberman. Something that shouldn’t be so easily wounded so it catches you off guard–on edge–enticed. 

“Oh,” he sighs, “Oh, okay. I’m sorry for bothering. I’ll just go–”

“But I could make some real quick!”

What. The fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck has come over you tonight? There is no “quick” about this, none of it is. And it’s ten p.m. and you were already asleep and all of your supplies are put up and–

“Really? You could do that for me?”

I could do anything for you.

“Totally,” you say, instead, and take a step back to open your door wider, “Come in. Pardon the mess.”

You walk further into your apartment and snatch the underwear off the back of the couch, kick a sock out of sight. Curse your cat for poising himself directly in the way of Yukimiya’s path but halfway thanking him because it buys you some time to do some spot tidying before your habitat is exposed.

Not like you can really hide much mess in a studio apartment, but whatever.

“I’m surprised you remembered my address,” you settle on saying, to break the ice, as you pull your box of supplies out from behind a makeshift closet of tapestries and curtains. What can you say you are if not crafty. “You just came by, what was it? Once? In November?”

“October,” he corrects you, slips his bag off his arm and sits in one of the chairs in the kitchen. (Or what you could call it, anyways). “Halloween.”

“Right,” you smile as you carry your box over to him. You place it on a stool by the stove, intent on getting to work. “You had a surprise shoot. You needed it because of all the–”

“Face paint,” he finishes, and you both chuckle. 

You remember him messaging your business page with an urgent request of the soap he likes, saying he needed it right then. And, well, his shoot happened to be close to your apartment and you were waiting on a package to arrive so, yeah. You forked over your address–something you never do–and he came by with his agent to pick it up. He’s always personable like that; makes sure to see you with every delivery. Actually, you’re not too sure why you’re so shocked he remembered.

Or why it has a weird sort of fluttering blooming in your stomach. 

“Right,” you hum, and pull your measuring cup out of the box. “I had you down for a week from now, I usually try to stay stocked for my regulars.”

“I lent some to a friend to try,” he supplies as an answer, but by the faint flicker of a grimace on his face, you think ‘lent’ is more akin to ‘was taken from me’. How funny. “I guess I didn’t realize how low I was.”

“Ah,” you nod, pull out your soap bases and your loaf mold. “I am constantly lending things to my friends as well.”

“So you understand.”

“Perfectly.” 

A comfortable silence tucks itself into the room; like a warm blanket over chilly legs. Something about Yukimiya is uneasy but so easy. Like you’re always on your toes but second nature takes over anyways. Talking to him is nice. He’s nice. Especially considering the difference in status between the two of you.

Are all models so humble?

No, that’s not right; you’ve read his interviews. Humble isn’t exactly the right word to describe him. Charismatic? Charming? Suave? Sure. but he is teetering the line of his ego–you know this. You bite the corner of your lip and start cutting down your bases.

“I’ll pay you extra,” Yukimiya breaks the moment, “For the inconvenience. And I brought some tea with me, as well.”

“You brought tea?” You quirk a brow at him, choosing to ignore his first offer (because, really, you could use the money, but you don’t want to seem greedy; you’d do this for him for free). “You always keep it strapped, or..?”

“No,” he laughs, a beautiful, angelic sort of thing. Your knees feel a little weak at the chimes of it. “But I brought some with me to the shoot today. I’m very.. particular about what goes in my body.”

You could go in my body.

“Ah,” you nod, snap your gaze away, try to swallow down the flush in your cheeks. “Tea is nice.”

That’s all it takes for Yukimiya to stand; something that has the hair on your arms beginning to rise; tickle the skin. He’s walking over to you, next to the stove, two tea bags in hand.

“Earl grey,” he supplies when he notices you eyeing them, “That alright?”

“Yeah. Yes.” You’re so embarrassing. “Love it.”

You’ve never had it.

He smiles again (or has he even stopped?), quirks his lips up in a way that is so devilishly handsome it’s damn near sickening. He pulls the kettle off of your back burner and turns to the sink to fill it up. He knows, somehow.

“Not many people love it,” he wagers, places the kettle back on the burner then turns; leans back against the counter beside you to wait. His strong arms cross over his chest in a practiced sort of leisure. You wonder how one man can exude so much divinity. “An acquired taste.”

You swallow, dart your eyes away. Useless, you find, as they keep trailing back to the broad build of the man beside you. You pray he is not close enough to feel the heat coming from your face; or you could pass it off as the steam coming from the stove. 

“You know,” you tease, pointing at him with the blade in your hand, “I’ve been told that I am an acquired taste.”

“I can see that.”

You gasp, he chuckles, and you smack his bicep with the towel that was over your shoulder. So easy, so light.

“Rude,” you huff, but there’s still a smile on your lips, a tingling in your fingertips. You add your base to your measuring cup and place it in the pot on the stovetop. 

There’s the comfortability again; the ease. You wonder when it became this way. When you could talk to him just so; where the shift was. When he turned from client to.. What, exactly? What is this? What is he doing? What are you doing?

This isn’t professional at all.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Yukimiya speaks up after a few beats. He’s fiddling with your oils, peering through them passingly. You nod. “What made you want to start doing this? Surely it is just easier to leave it all to someone else.”

“Oh, definitely,” you agree through a chuckle, blow it through your nose like a half handed sigh. Now, as you wait for the base to melt you turn to him, move the box off the stool by the stove and sit by him. “But I couldn’t find any soaps that would work for me. My skin is so sensitive and.. Yeah.”

“I see,” he nods, and he’s standing so close, you realize now. He shifts, your knee is touching his hip. You wonder if it feels searing hot to him, too. “I can admire that. Finding a solution for yourself. It’s very respectable.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” you wave off, chuckle nervously. Why does it feel like you are a specimen being observed under a petri dish? “It’s just soap.”

There’s a beat of silence, of understanding. Then, Yukimiya is moving again, pressing in closer. Not enough to be fully inappropriate but more so than any of your other clients have gotten, for sure. (Or anyone, recently, for that matter).

“Well, your skin is beautiful. So you must be doing something right.”

You want to die. You want to curl up in a big, deep, dark hole and die. Right here, right now. What the fuck. What the fuck. The kettle is whistling, you tuck tail and turn your attention to your soap on the stove.

“Well, thank you, Yukki.”

“My pleasure, (Y/n).” 

And it’s soft, sweet; the palm to the small of your back as the man pushes off the counter and goes to search for two mugs. He finds them in the drainer and brings them back to your shared work space. Joins you in tandem like this is what you normally do at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night; like you’ve always done this. How, you ponder, is it so easy?

You stir your oils in as Yukimiya fills the mugs up, places the tea bags in. Your attention is so sparse tonight, so all over the place. You hardly notice your arm getting too close to the pot on the stove. But Kenyu doesn’t.

“Careful,” he warns, grabs your wrist to pull it away from its impending doom. His grasp is warm; stern, but soft. He’s so close, you blink up at him. “You almost burned yourself.”

“Oh,” you mumble, gently pull your arm from his warm clutches, “Wouldn’t be the first time. See?”

You hold out your arms to show him your battle scars; faults of the trade. Working with hot and melted substances isn’t easy, and while your face’s skin may be good, your arms have seen better days. You chuckle, Yukimiya does not.

No, he pouts. “You should take better care,” and he’s reaching for you again, both wrists in his palms this time. He’s observing, cataloging. You want to shrink under his gaze. “I have some scar cream, that would help.”

“Okay,” you aren’t even sure what he said but you don’t care. It’s fine, you can agree. “We’ll call it a fair trade.”

“Okay,” he levels, but you both know full well he is still going to pay you (and extra at that) for your services tonight.

After that, he lets you be for a bit. He takes his seat once again and watches as you get to work. No dyes because Yukimiya doesn’t like that. Extra shea butter because he does. Oatmeal bits to soothe his skin after so much makeup throughout the day. Piece my piece you construct his soap until it is time to pour. And you, well, you’re nothing if not a hospitable host.

“Do you want to pick the mold?” you ask, because he’s here. And this batch is just for him. “I know I normally just use my square one, but if you wanted a change..”

“Flowers,” he says, smiles, “I’d like one with flowers.” 

“I can do flowers.” You pick one that’s still rectangular, but has flowers printed on the top. Something old and something new. A subtle change, something you think suits him better. He doesn’t protest and you think that to be a good sign. You set it on the counter and begin to pour.

It’s always painstaking; this part. Trying to make sure you don’t spill or overflow or pour too fast and get bubbles on the top. It’s even worse when you have Japan’s next top model and top ten soccer pro watching and dissecting your every move. Still, your pour is good and when you’re done you set your measuring cup in the sink.

Usually, you like to clean up immediately after. Now, though, it seems rude to do so when you have a guest. So you discard your things to the sink and come back over, drag your stool and sit across from the Yukimiya Kenyu at the counter. You tug your robe higher over your shoulders, lean forward a little on your elbows. 

“It takes a while to cool,” you bit the corner of your lip, fiddle with your thumbs as you peer through heavy lashes, “I’m sorry, there’s–”

“It’s completely fine,” Yukimiya grins, fingers skimming your arm across the countertop, and you wonder what has happened to that line of professionalism, “I have all night.”

“No shoot tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. And you know–not because you watch every single one of his games or anything, don’t be absurd–that it is the off season for soccer, so there’s probably no practice either. You hum, nod to yourself. You’re doing that a lot tonight, nodding like a bumbling idiot. You can’t help it, you think, not when a man such as this is in your apartment.

Your counter isn’t very wide, the two of you are much closer than either of you think. And Yukimiya is still playing with the hem of your robe sleeve. Toying with it and your heart and the heat in your tummy. You peer at him and he adheres to you and you, well.

You kiss him, because he’s right there.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” you’re blubbering, pulling back. Whatever kind of sleepy delirium you're in has really caused you such a deadly demise. You want to keel over right now. “That was so inappropriate, I’m–”

“Completely alright,” he levels, takes your hand and pulls you back in, as much as the counter separating you will allow. 

“You sure?” you’re leaning in again, he’s pressing forward.

“Yes,” he breathes, hot and heavy against your lips and, oh. You’re kissing, again.

His lips are velvet and his skin is silk and you think such delicacies do not belong in your shoddy apartment, but maybe–just maybe–belong in your arms. You kiss him back and revel in it for as long as he lets you. A prince and pauper, in the open kitchen of your studio apartment. 

He pulls back enough to gaze at you, rub his thumb over your knuckles. Reach a hand up to do the same over your cheek. You blink, dumbfounded and dazed.

“So,” he says, finally, after what feels like an eternity, “Does this mean I get to have a soap named after me?”

You laugh, light and airy and warm, and nod your little head again for the millionth time. 

“Yeah, I think we could work something out.”

You do, name a soap after him. And it becomes a best seller overnight. And, suddenly, you can afford much more than a studio apartment on the semi-rough part of town for you and your cat. 

And Yukimiya Kenyu makes you tea every night, and kisses you too. 

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[jennaispunk]

It's Only Make Believe

Summary: What began as a publicity stunt turns into much more than you expected.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!actress!reader

Rating: T

Word Count: ~7k

Tags and Warnings: fluff, allusions to smut, kissing, drug use, Dieter is a goofball but so sweet, anxiety, allusions to body shaming/bullying (reader receiving, not from Dieter), fake dating, unspoken feelings, longing, reader has a nickname but no physical description of reader is mentioned. If I forgot anything, please let me know.

A/N: This is for Kate's @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge (I got fake dating as my trope). I'm sorry this is so late. Moodboard by @notjustjavierpena (Thank you Siggy!! The moodboard is gorgeous and fits the vibe perfectly 💜) Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @clawdee for beta reading. A special shout to my discord peeps who sprinted with me and offered their encouragement and advice. There are too many of you to list individually, but I think you know who you are. This is my first go at Dieter, so I hope I made the Dieter girlies (gn) proud.

 This dress costs more than my first car...

You stare at yourself in the full-length mirror. The floor-length blue gown sparkles, even in the inadequate lighting of your tiny apartment. It hugs all your curves perfectly and even you’re impressed with how sexy you look. 

This is your first award show since coming to Hollywood, and your first public appearance with Dieter. You swallow hard as your hands smooth your dress. He’s going to be here any minute, and you’re so nervous you could vomit. This isn’t like all the other times, far away setups where people can only guess what the looks between you mean, can only guess what you’re saying to one another. This is the real deal; you have to sell this.

A knock on your door snaps you from your thoughts and he enters the room. Your breath is almost stolen from your lungs as you gaze at him. This is a far cry from the baggy t-shirts and lounge pants you’re used to seeing him in; he cleans up nicely. Sure, he’s still got the same messy mop of hair and scruffy beard, but he looks good. He’s actually wearing real pants…and a jacket, and you stifle a giggle. Somehow you knew that he would refuse to wear a tie and the top two buttons of his crisp, white dress shirt were left undone, giving a peak of his smooth chest. Even the gold hoop in this left ear stood out to you tonight.

“Whoa,” he muttered under his breath.

He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t look away.  You looked stunning in that shade of blue. His eyes locked onto the smooth skin of your thigh playing peek-a-boo with him through the slit in your dress and he swallows hard.

“Cat got your tongue, Bravo?” you tease. “I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words.”

“Huh?”

His hand shoots up to his earring and he tugs it. A sheepish smile creeps across his plump lips.

“Oh, uh, you look nice,” he stammers.

Real smooth, he thinks as he drinks in your beauty. You look more than nice but he couldn’t get the words out. He’s never been so tongue-tied in front of a woman before. He’s charmed the panties off supermodels, for fuck’s sake. Jesus Christ, how can this woman turn him into such a blubbering idiot?

Your brow furrows for the briefest moment before smiling weakly. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for, but you quickly swallow your disappointment. It was foolish of you to expect any other response.

“We should get going. I don’t want to be late.”

The limo slows to a stop. You can barely make out the lights and sounds through the tinted glass window, but the buzz is undeniable. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to experience as the limo door opened and Dieter helped you step out and onto the red carpet. 

Flashing cameras and lights surrounded you. Voices yelling, calling for Dieter's attention, trying to catch the perfect photo or get a quick interview. Security guards hold back fans desperate for attention from their favorite stars and people hurrying back and forth across the carpet trying to keep things moving. 

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes squint, almost blinded by the never-ending flashes of light. You don’t know if you can do this. Broadway premiers were way more low-key.  How can you subject yourself to the scrutiny knowing that one misstep or odd look on your face could be dissected and discussed like you’re not even a real person?

Dieter glances your way and his heart drops a little. You’re smiling, looking like a goddess under the lights, but your back is almost too straight, and your hands lay glued to the sides of your thighs. Someone who didn’t know you wouldn’t think twice about it, but he knew you were struggling. The tension was radiating off you in waves. He knew that feeling all too well and immediately grabbed your hand, gently tugging you closer. 

Your eyes snap to meet his as he laces his fingers with yours. He gives your hand a quick but firm squeeze and that silly, lopsided grin is on his face. Your muscles slowly begin to relax, and the world starts to slow down. That stupid little smile was exactly what you needed, grounding you in a way you never expected. 

He moves even closer to you, the tip of his nose barely brushing the shell of your ear. Instinctively, your body angles toward him as his warm breath ghosts your cheek. 

“Relax, cupcake,” he whispers in your ear. “You’re going to be fine. Just think of something that makes you happy.”

Your soft gasp was swallowed by the din. Dieter was giving you advice, giving you good advice. Maybe you had underestimated him. 

All you could think about was this moment right here, the way the two of you were pressed together like two lovers sharing an intimate secret, and you smile. It’s only make-believe, you remind yourself. Just another performance, another role to play; but it’s starting to feel all too real. 

You knock on his door with your heart pounding. It feels a little hard to breathe. No one had prepared you for this. Your weight shifts from foot to foot as you wait for him to answer.

“Come on, come on, come on.”

Maybe he isn’t even here. It’s not like you even gave him a heads-up that you were coming. What if he has someone here? You suddenly feel sick to your stomach at the thought. If he opens the door with a naked girl behind him, you’ll die of embarrassment right on the spot.

You take a step back, turning to go when the door flies open, and Dieter is staring back at you with his shirt splotched with paint. You breathe a little easier when you realize he’s fully clothed and it appears that he’s alone.

“What’s up?”

He can’t hide the look of surprise on his face at seeing you at his door. You’re the last person he expected to show up unannounced, but he can’t deny he’s happy to see you.

“Sorry to bother you,” you answer softly. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

His face falls as he realizes something’s up with you. You’re normally pretty stoic, careful to not let your emotions show. He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves.

“It’s fine, cupcake,” he responds with a little smirk. “Come in.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname as he steps aside to let you enter. You’re not sure exactly when that nickname became something that didn’t annoy you, but you’ve come to like it. The last three weeks have shown you a different side of Dieter, one that you like and want to see more often.

Your eyes immediately scan his apartment. It’s not what you thought it would be at all. You expected chaos and mess but it’s tidy and very well decorated. The art on the walls is a little abstract for your taste but it matches Dieter’s vibe. You can’t help but wonder if he had decorated the apartment himself or just chosen the art.

“Do you want to tell me what brought you here or should I guess?”

He’s smirking at you, and you're torn between smacking him and kissing him. Why does he have to be so adorable when he does that? You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

You feel so silly now that you’re here. What are you supposed to say? You’re here because your feelings got hurt?

You silently pull out your phone and hand it to him. You have the webpage already open, and you watch him as he reads.

He reads it over without saying a word. He’s been here before and he knows just how cruel people can be. His heart hurts for you and he hands you back your phone.

“Ouch.”

He says nothing more and you just stare at him. Your blood starts to boil at his lack of words.

“That’s all you have to say?” you ask, your voice rising in pitch. “Did you even read what they said about me?”

Those were some of the most vile, hateful words you’d ever read. All from people who’d never met you, who knew next to nothing about you. You had never experienced vitriol like this before.

“I read it.”

He sighed and dragged his hand through his messy hair. He had to think of a way to talk you down without making you more upset.

“You know you’ve made it to the big time when people talk about you like that.”

Your teeth clench so hard your jaw aches. What are you supposed to do?  You can’t just ignore it. You want to clap back at all these people. Who the hell do they think they are, talking about you like that? Don’t they realize you have feelings too?

He can see you spiraling. You’re heading down a dangerous path, and he knows firsthand how destructive it can be.

“Hey.”

He gently grabs you by the shoulders forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t feed into that shit, okay? That’s what they do. They want you to get so worked up that you pull some Britney Spears type stunt and then they’ll talk about you even more. You’re better than that.”

You sigh softly as you look at him. You know he’s right, but you can’t help how much it’s hurting your feelings.

“How do you ignore it?” You ask quietly. “How do you block all these idiots?”

He gives you his trademark crooked smirk, the one that simultaneously makes you weak in the knees and slightly annoyed.

“That’s easy.”

He wiggles his brows and holds up a small bag of what looks like gummy bears and gives the bag a little shake. Those gummy bears are not the kind you buy at 7-11 and you can’t help but playfully scoff.

“Wanna try?”

You bite your lip as you think about it. You were never into substances, even during your brief rebellious stage as a teenager. One bad experience made you shy away from them and stick to alcohol instead. You don’t even know what’s in that little gummy bear, and the last thing you need is to not be in control of yourself.

“It’s nothing too crazy,” he says, answering your unspoken question. “I’m done with the hard stuff, you know that. These are an indica strain, for relaxation and anxiety.”

He holds the bag out to you, and you swallow hard. He had told you about rehab and how hard he worked to give up coke and the harder drugs.

“Trust me?”

His voice is so soft, matching the look in his eyes. If there’s one thing you know about Dieter, it’s that he doesn’t lie, at least not to you anyway. He’s honest, almost to a fault.

You slowly reach in and take a red gummy bear from the bag. He takes it from you and cuts it in half and hands it to you. Your eyes meet his as you hold it in between your thumb and index finger. What the hell, you think to yourself. Maybe this would be good for you, he’s always telling you that you need to loosen up. A soft exhale leaves your lips.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

His signature crooked smile adorns his face once again. There’s almost a sense of pride behind that smile. He’s not used to being trusted.

He takes his half of the gummy and pops it into his mouth.

“You’ll like it, I promise.”

You giggle softly as he chomps on the bear and talks at the same time. His childlike qualities can sometimes be aggravating, but cute.

He watches you as you eat your gummy. It tastes just like a regular gummy bear, and you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“There’s one other thing I do to block out all the noise. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He grabs your hands and leads you further into his apartment. Your stomach flutters as you stop at a closed door at the end of the hall. You have no idea what awaits you and you can only imagine what you're about to see.

He opens the door to reveal an art studio. Paints and canvases are strewn about the room, some with no more than a few haphazard strokes on them. Your jaw hits the floor. This is not what you expected at all. He had talked about his art before, but you had no idea he was this serious about it or this talented.

You step into the room and marvel at the display before you. His work is beautiful, a bit abstract, but stunning, nonetheless. This is the type of art you’d see staged at a gallery and you wonder why he’s never showcased his work.

He quickly moves to throw a sheet over a canvas, hiding it from your view. He almost stumbles in his haste to keep you from seeing what he’s painted.

You’re sure you catch a glimpse of a woman, but you can’t be sure. You open your mouth to ask him why he covered the painting then quickly close it. There’s a reason that he doesn’t want you to see it. It would be rude to ask why.

His sigh is audible when he realizes you aren’t going to ask any questions. He didn’t want you to know that he was painting you, not yet anyway. His heart thudded in his chest, he wasn’t ready for you to know how much you’ve consumed his thoughts, how much you help to quiet his mind.

Your eyes are drawn to another piece, and you move closer to get a better look. You can see what you think is a woman’s face with her mouth open, but the entire piece is blurred, shading and lines obscure the image. Sadness washes over you as you study the canvas. You identify with that woman, although you can’t explain why.

He wipes his palms down his pants as you take it all in. This is his safe space, his private sanctuary where he can be himself and not what everyone else wants or expects him to be. This place wasn’t shared with just anyone. He could count the number of people that have been in this room on one hand and still have fingers left over.   

“Do you like it?”

You jump a foot as his soft voice hits your ears. You were so engrossed in the painting that you never heard him come up behind you.

“Dee, this is…beautiful.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You don’t even know why you’re whispering; it just feels like the right thing to do.

You look over your shoulder and Dieter is smiling like you’ve never seen him smile before.

“Eh, it’s alright. Not my best work.”

You can feel his pride beaming off him but he’s trying to play it off as it’s no big deal.

“You want to watch the master at work?” he teased.

You roll your eyes and scoff. You want to watch him paint. Maybe it would help you understand him better. Maybe it would help you understand yourself, why you’re so inexplicably drawn to him, and find yourself more attracted to him with every moment you spend together.

He didn’t let anyone watch him paint. It was too personal, too intimate to allow anyone into that sanctuary. But he didn’t mind you watching him. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He hoped that this was the way to get you to let your guard down.

He winks at you, then turns to his canvas. He carefully studies it for a moment, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head. His brow furrows and his lips purse ever so slightly. This is a side of him you’ve never seen before; the carefree, chaotic mess is gone. Before you stands a man who is calm, thoughtful and relaxed.

You watch in awe as the first brush stroke hits the canvas. His movements are purposeful, he knows exactly what he’s doing. The colors swirl and blend together, oranges and reds evoking heat. That’s when you realize the edible has taken effect. Warmth slowly spreads through your body, radiating out like lazy, creeping vines down your arms and legs into your fingers and toes. It’s peaceful, like curling up in your favorite blanket on a chilly night. You’re drawn into this beautiful world as you feel the tension and worry leaving your body, keenly aware of how his paintbrush caresses the canvas. It stirs something within you. Would he touch you with that kind of reverence? Would his fingers glide that easily across your skin?

“Everything alright, cupcake?”

His voice cuts through your daydream and your eyes snap to meet his.

“Hmm?”

Your cheeks start to burn as he stares at you, the paintbrush still in his hand. All you can think about is how you shouldn’t be having these thoughts right now.

“Where’d you go?”

His lips curl into a lopsided smirk. You’re embarrassed and he knows it. He chuckles softly and wonders what he would find if he got into that pretty little head of yours. Are you thinking the same thing he is? Are you thinking about what it would be like if your body was his canvas?

You laugh a little too loudly and tuck your hair behind your ear. Get it together.

“Nowhere…” you say softly. “Just admiring your work. You’re really talented, Dee.”

He scoffs at you and waves his hand at you. His cheeks lightly flush and he looks away. His heart flutters in his chest at your praise. Most people don’t understand his work or just dismiss it altogether. It feels good to have someone show genuine interest.

“Anyone can do it.”  

“No, they can’t.” you protest, “This takes talent.”

You can’t believe that he’s brushing off your compliment like this. Doesn’t he realize how brilliant he is?

His eyes light up. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He quickly runs out of the room leaving you speechless and confused. He returns with an old t-shirt covered in paint splatters. He holds it out to you, and can only assume that it’s his, and your cheeks flush at the thought of wearing his clothes.

You take it from him and in an uncharacteristic fit of boldness, you pull your t-shirt over your head and put on the one he gave you. It’s big, nearly hanging down to your knees, hiding the curves he just got a peek at.

He almost choked as you changed your shirt. It was unexpected, and he shifted uncomfortably, feeling his cock harden in his pants. What he wouldn’t give to get a closer look at you that way again.

He clears his throat, trying to clear the dirty thoughts in his head. He didn’t want to mess this up, not when he’d finally gotten you comfortable enough to come to his apartment without prompting. Now was the time to play it cool, unfortunately playing it cool wasn’t something he was good at when it came to you.

“So, uh…wanna give it a shot?” He raises a brow at you, offering a challenge.

You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. He sounded so hopeful, almost childlike. It made you wonder how many people had ever been given the privilege of seeing him like this, relaxed and happy. He was truly in his element here and you would treat this moment with the respect it deserves.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” you answer softly.

You weren’t the artistic type. You’d never been good at drawing or painting. Maybe it was because you’d always worried so much that it wouldn’t be perfect, that someone would point out a mistake- no matter how small- and it would be ruined.

His face fell for a split second before that crooked smirk came back. He didn’t believe for a second that you couldn’t paint. You just needed to relax. He shoves a paintbrush into your hand.

“Just humor me,” he says quietly.

You sigh softly and turn to the canvas. Your eyes flutter closed. You can do this…all you have to do is try, right?

Selecting your first color, a deep blue, you touch the brush to the canvas. You use broad strokes, feeling a bit like Bob Ross as you gain confidence.

Dieter watches with amusement, seeing the tip of your pink tongue peek out past your plush lips and your brow furrowed in concentration. You look cute like this.

You hold the end of your paintbrush between your teeth as you contemplate your next move. The next paint color is chosen, and you begin to apply it with the same heavy strokes as before. You want this to look like the sunsets you used to see as a kid on summer vacations with your family.

He knows he shouldn’t interrupt. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel bad, but he can’t help himself. He steps up behind you, close enough to smell your strawberry shampoo.

“Can I give you a bit of advice?”

Your body jerks involuntarily at the sound of his voice. You were in the zone and forgot he was even here.

“Um, sure.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as he moves closer. The grip you have on the paintbrush makes your knuckles blanche. You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to relax.

The urge to bury his nose into your hair and drink you in is so strong it almost hurts. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch you for real, not that fake shit the two of you do for the cameras, genuinely touch you like he’s wanted to for so long.

“Relax your arm a bit,” he says softly. “Just let the brush glide along the canvas. You don’t have to force it.”

You inhale sharply as his large hand molds over yours and he glides the brush over the canvas. Having him this close is more unnerving than you’d like to admit. His warm breath tickles your ear as he guides your hand.

He lets go of your hand and you draw the brush across the canvas from left to right once again, trying to blend the colors the way he taught you. You're painfully aware that he didn’t move away from you, he’s still standing right behind you, his belly lightly brushing against your back.

“Perfect,” he says softly. “You’re a natural.”

You beam at his praise, smiling brightly as you turn your head to look at him.

“You really think so?”

“Yep.”

Something shifts between the two of you in that moment. He’s studying your face intently, almost as if he’s trying to memorize every little detail. You set the paintbrush down, unknowingly collecting some paint on your index finger.

All this feels like you're careening toward something you can’t take back. This is dangerous territory, and you know it will only lead to heartbreak.

You clear your throat and create a little space between you, giving you time to collect your thoughts.

“Stop teasing me.”

You laugh softly, trying to hide your feelings at him being so close to you.

“I swear I’m not teasing you, Cupcake. Painting isn’t about perfection…it’s about putting something out there that makes you feel something.”

You turn to face him, unsure of what to say. His words seem genuine and your heart flutters in your chest. How does he do this to you, time after time?

His fist clenches at his side. He wants to reach out to you, but he doesn’t want to push his luck. He doesn’t want to break the trust he’s worked so hard to build.  

His lips curl into a lopsided smirk and he collects a bit of paint on his index finger.

“You need to loosen up.”

He dots the end of your nose with the paint. A smirk is plastered across his face, awaiting your response.

Your eyes go wide as he pulls his hand away from your face. Mischief dances in your eyes as you contemplate how to exact payback.

Your brow raises as you collect some paint on your fingers. If he wants a paint war, he’s got one.

You wordlessly lift your fingers and slowly drag them down the side of his face. Your eyes challenge him, daring him to fight back.

He chuckles softly and grabs the paintbrush, dotting your cheeks. His eyes narrow playfully, waiting for you to strike back.

You reach for a brush of your own, soaking it in the paint. This is about to get messy, but you can’t even begin to care. You’ve never had so much fun making a mess in your life.

“Careful…” he warns. “I fight dirty.”

He grabs your wrist before you even have a chance to respond, and you drop the brush. His other hand assaults your side, and you dissolve into a fit of giggles.

The paintbrush smacks against him, smattering bright blue pigment across his shirt before landing on the floor. You try to wiggle away, but he’s surprisingly strong and he pulls you closer.

Your laughter fills the room as you tussle. He could listen to that sound forever and it makes his heart sing.

“Dee…” you squeal. “Dee….can’t breathe…..”

Your protest only makes him double down, he’s more than determined to make you laugh until you cry.

“If you can talk, you can breathe.”

The joy he’s feeling in this moment can’t be quantified. You’re the only one he’s ever done this with. Sure, he’s done some crazy things in the past, but he’s never been this silly with anyone before. This connection between you is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s honest and real.

The tears begin to leak from your eyes as you wiggle in his grasp. You cackle and gasp for air, having the time of your life. You’ve never let your guard down like this before. It’s amazing.

His fingers slow as he realizes just how much your face is flushed. He’s accomplished his mission, and he reaches up to brush your hair away from your eyes.

Your giggles slowly subside, and you work to catch your breath. Your eyes slowly open to find him staring at you, almost mesmerized.

His hand slides down to your cheek and his face inches toward yours almost in slow motion.

He gently brushes his lips against yours. It’s a surprisingly intimate touch from him. When you don’t pull away, he presses his lips to yours more firmly, his tongue traces the seam of your lips begging for entrance.

Your lips part for him and he fully seizes the opportunity to take this further. His soft tongue dives into the cavern of your mouth exploring hungrily.

Your left hand shoots out, landing flat against the wet paint on the canvas and sliding down. You don’t even notice; you are so consumed with the feel of his mouth on yours.

Desire begins to cloud your mind as you return his kiss with equal fervor. The world has been reduced to this moment alone.

Your paint-covered hand comes to rest on his shirt as you moan softly into his mouth. His arms pull you impossibly close, there isn’t a single part of your body that isn’t touching.

He grunts softly, almost a whimper, as your body is pressed tightly against his. God, this feels so good, and he aches to take this further, to pull you down to the floor and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.

His hand fumbles for the hem of your shirt. Fingers snaking under the fabric, searching for bare skin. The heat of his palm finds the lace of your bra, gently kneading the flesh underneath. Your nipples harden and your knees go weak as his thumb brushes over the sensitive bud.

The blaring sound of his ringtone snaps you both from your lust-filled haze, pulling you apart like teenagers being caught by your parents.

He clears his throat and steps further away from you to answer the call. It’s only then that the reality of what just happened hits you. You just came so close to crossing a line you couldn’t uncross. It’s only make believe, you tell yourself. That’s what you always say when your feelings become all too real and threaten to spill from your lips.

Your eyes dart to the canvas. You look at the firm handprint and the streaks your fingers left. Doubt begins to swirl within you. You need to get out of here before you say or do something you can’t take back.

“Everything okay, cupcake?”

Your head snaps around to see him standing there, shoulders slumped and eyes soft.

You bite your lip.

“I ruined your canvas,” you say softly.

What a dumb thing to say, but it was your first thought. It was inconsequential, it’s not like he was going to be upset about it, but it somehow felt like an omen.

“It’s not ruined,” he says quietly. “I can make something of that, don’t worry about it.”

His heart squeezes in his chest. He wants so badly to pull you back in, to pick up where you left off but the moment’s gone. He’s left with the reality that he’s not quite the man you need yet. You need someone a little more stable. He’s not quite there yet but he’s so close. It’s better to hold back these feelings until he’s sure that he can make this work between you.

You breathe deeply, trying to not let your feelings show. All you have to do is keep it together just a little longer.

“I…I should go.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I have an early call at the studio tomorrow.”

He knows that’s probably true but that doesn’t stop his disappointment. He looks down at the floor and then back up to you.  He nods, knowing there’s nothing else to say.

“Thanks for the painting lesson, Dee.”

You quickly brush your lips against his scruffy cheek and walk out without looking back. You don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes.

The next few weeks are filled with an uneasy tension between you. You make a good show during your scheduled “appearances”, but when the cameras aren’t around you could cut the tension between you with a knife. Neither one of you has brought up the kiss. The two of you dance around the subject doing anything to avoid the elephant in the room.

The night of your movie premiere rolls around. Your makeup and hair team bustle around the hotel room while your stylist is busy selecting your accessories. Again, another dress you couldn’t afford even though you’ve made it. How were you going to pretend everything was okay with Dieter tonight? It was getting harder and harder to pretend that what the two of you were doing wasn’t real, that it was only make believe. You had genuine feelings for him, and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Dieter appears in your doorway as your stylist finishes clasping the necklace you were going to wear. The dress is Valentino…the jewelry is Cartier…

This was the mantra that you had repeated to yourself over and over as you got ready. You had to remember those names, just in case you were asked about them. You couldn’t afford to forget who you were wearing in case you were asked, the last thing you want to do was offend the designers.

Your head jerks up as Dieter clears his throat, snapping you from your revelry. It never failed to amaze you how handsome he looked all cleaned up but somehow it made you long for the lounge pants, baggy T-shirt and crocs that made up his everyday attire.

“Ready to go, Cupcake?” he asked with a smirk. The same one that drove you crazy in both good and bad ways.

Dieter extends his hand to help you from the limo as you’re blinded by the flashbulbs of the press. You take a deep breath and plaster on your best smile, the same one that Dieter reminded you to use during your very first red carpet appearance. You can make it through this next ten minutes.

Dieter squeezes your hand, just like he did that first time. It grounds you and helps calm you. How was it that you were the only one who got to see this side of him?

Dieter steals glances at you as you pose for photos together before entering the theater. You are absolutely radiant, even though he can see the nervous energy shooting out of you. He’s wanted to tell you so many times how he felt but it just never seems to be the right time. He’s been putting in the work, trying to be the man you need, the man you deserve. Maybe tonight is the night. He feels like he’ll burst if he has to hold back much longer.

The movie goes by in a blur. You barely remember watching your scenes on the screen, all you can think about is the way Dieter’s hand feels in yours.

Dieter shifts in his seat as he gently rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. Things have been so tense between you these past few weeks. The kiss you shared has completely overtaken his mind. He wants you. He knows that on paper it seems crazy, but he is sure the two of you are meant to be. You quiet his mind in a way that no one else can. You see past all his bullshit to the broken man who just wants to be loved.

The after-party is hopping. It’s a cacophony of voices, laughter, and glasses clinking. This is the part of Hollywood you dislike most- being with a bunch of people who don’t give two shits about you but pretend they do. These people would sooner stab you in the back rather than help you out. Your head begins to ache, and you wander outside with your glass of champagne.

The sprawling estate is the perfect backdrop for the party. The landscaping is beautiful, with trees and lush gardens full of beautiful flowers. The thing that attracts your attention is the large fountain at the center of the courtyard. The design is delicately ornate with statues of water nymphs and mermaids. It’s large enough to walk right into. You find yourself mesmerized by the sound of the water as you lean over the balcony railing.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You damn near drop your glass and your free hand flies to your chest. He’d snuck up on you without you even noticing.

“You scared the shit out of me, Dee.”

You playfully nudge him with your shoulder. His presence has a way of riling you up and calming you simultaneously.

His trademark smirk flashes across his face.

“You’re missing a hell of a party.”

You don’t miss the hint of sarcasm laced in his words. He’d told you before that he never really liked these parties.

“I know,” you answer softly. “Just needed some fresh air.”

Anyone else may have missed it, but he could feel how overwhelmed you were feeling. He couldn’t let you flounder, he needed to get you to relax. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you toward the courtyard.

He laces his fingers with yours as you silently walk through the garden. In the few months you’ve spent together, he’s learned when to push and when to stay silent.

You round the corner and come to a stop in front of the fountain. The whoosh of the water seems to drown out the rest of the world. You feel your shoulders go slack as the mist of the fountain tickles your bare forearms.

Unable to resist the opportunity, Dieter moves closer. His breath ghosts against your ear as he speaks.

“You look so beautiful when you're relaxed.”

You hum softly at his words.

“You’re the one who’s always telling me to loosen up.”

You set your glass down on a nearby bench and a wicked smile forms on your lips.

Without another word, you pull Dieter into the fountain. A little squeal leaves your throat as the cool water hits your skin. You dance in the water, splashing him and laughing like a little girl. You’ve never felt more free. There is something so liberating about splashing around in the water. You don’t even care that you might be ruining your designer dress.

Your heart soars as Dieter joins in, laughing and splashing you back. The fact that you’re going to attract attention to yourself is the last thing on your mind as he grabs you by the waist and spins you around.

He sets you down on your feet and pushes the damp locks off your forehead. You both just stare at each other, panting and drenched but unable to pull yourselves apart.

“When you let loose, you really go all out.”

He chuckles softly and pulls you even closer. He wants to tell you exactly how he feels about you, but the words stick in his throat. He’s not sure if any words would even suffice. Instead, he does the only thing he can think of to express himself.

He gently presses his lips to yours. His large hand grips your chin and tilts your head slightly, Your lips part for his tongue and you moan softly. This kiss is slow and tender, filled with the affection he longs to show you. He knows he can be the man you need if you’ll only give him a chance. No one knows him like you do. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him and he’s determined to make you happy.

Your world is tilted on its axis as he kisses you. This kiss was even better than the one you shared weeks ago. It was slow, unhurried. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close. A myriad of emotions flowed through you as your tongues danced like you had all the time in the world. Everything else faded away, all that existed was this moment and the two of you. The only sound you could hear was the thrumming of your heart in your ears.

The need for oxygen was the only thing that caused you to separate. You slowly open your eyes, your lips parted and swollen. Your eyes shimmer with the unspoken question that lies between you. What does this mean?

His lips curl into his trademark half smirk. His palms cup your face, thumbs brushing gently against the apples of your cheeks.

“What do you say we make this fake relationship real?”

His voice is so soft, barely audible over the rushing waters of the fountain. His eyes shine with hope. Hope that you will take this chance with him, hope that you give him the opportunity to show you how good he could be for you.

Your brows furrow as you stare back at him. Your head is still spinning a bit from that kiss. This is real, this is happening. The thing that you’ve wanted for weeks is finally staring you in the face and suddenly you’re afraid to reach out and grab it.

The slight breeze causes you to shiver slightly. You swallow the lump in your throat as the reality of the situation fully hits you.

“You sure about this?”

His words ring in your ears. You need him to confirm it one more time; to be sure this isn’t some fever dream.

“Surer than I’ve ever been.”

He rests his forehead against yours, willing you to read his thoughts.

“You’re the only one who can quiet my mind, Cupcake.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest. Those words feel so believable. You knew it was true. He was different with you than he was with anyone else. When it really mattered, you saw the real him just like he saw the real you. As unlikely a pair as you seemed on paper, the two of you just worked. You balanced each other out so well. You keep him from going off the deep end and he keeps you from getting too much in your own head.

A slow smile forms on your lips as you look at him. This was really happening.  Standing in the middle of a fountain at a party full of Hollywood stars, a new chapter of your lives was starting. 

“Let’s give it a try.”

Your words are cut off by commotion on the balcony. Someone has spotted the two of you and you knew you were moments from being the talk of the town.

Your laughter rings out over the din of the water. There’s something so freeing about not giving a fuck what anyone thought. That was all thanks to Dieter.

You quickly peck his lips one more time unable to contain your smile. No one back home would ever believe what just happened tonight.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Neither one of you can stop laughing as you drop into the back of your limo, still damp from your impromptu romp in the water.

“Thank you for the best night of my life,” you murmur as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He pulls you closer as your teeth lightly chatter, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“This is just the beginning, babe.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head. This was the scariest thing he’d ever done but he knew that he had to take this chance. He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it.

“Just the beginning…”

You quietly echo his words. This is going to be quite the adventure.

[bradleysass]

Hair - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 519 - Starchaser

The morning routine was always the same.

Regulus would wake up just before the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, painting their bedroom in soft gold. James, for some fucking reason, was always awake before him. It was unnatural. Unfair. Almost suspicious. He lay there, warm like a furnace, his bare chest exposed, only clad in those ridiculous pajama pants he insisted on wearing without underwear.

What a slut.

Regulus loved him.

Regulus, in contrast, was always wrapped up in one of his oversized jumpers, soft fabric drowning his frame, paired with pajama shorts that barely peeked out beneath the hem. But the one thing he despised was his hair—long, messy, unruly in the mornings. It tangled at the base of his neck, strands sticking to his cheek, a wild halo of chaos that James swore was "absolutely ethereal" and Regulus swore was "an absolute nightmare."

"You look beautiful," James murmured, just as he did every morning, voice thick with sleep.

Regulus scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "You don't even have your glasses on. What do you know?"

James hummed, unbothered, stretching like a lazy cat.

Regulus slid out of bed, rolling his eyes at the way James's gaze shamelessly followed him. His morning routine was sacred—wash his face, tame his hair, pretend James wasn't watching him with a stupidly smitten expression.

Today, however, he felt like indulging in something more… elaborate. Instead of the usual ponytail, he reached for his ornate hair sticks, the ones James once dubbed "Regulus's weapons of mass destruction" after he was nearly stabbed for touching them without permission.

The moment James saw them, he was in the bathroom within seconds, appearing in the mirror's reflection like some sort of menace.

"Fancy sticks today, huh?" he grinned, already crowding Regulus's space.

Regulus sighed, feigning annoyance, though the small smirk on his lips betrayed him. "You act like it's an event."

"Oh, it is."

James didn't waste a second before pressing feather-light kisses against the newly exposed skin of Regulus's neck. Soft, reverent, lingering. A contrast to the teasing smile he wore just moments ago.

Regulus's fingers faltered as he twisted his hair up, body betraying him with a shiver. He swatted at James half-heartedly. "Stop that."

James, of course, did not stop.

Instead, he moved lower, kissing over the delicate dip of Regulus's shoulder blade, lips warm and insistent. "Nope."

Regulus exhaled sharply, pretending this wasn't affecting him, pretending his grip on the hair sticks wasn't growing looser. James knew exactly what he was doing. And it was infuriating.

"You're distracting me," Regulus mumbled, though he didn't move away.

"Am I?" James whispered against his skin, grinning.

Regulus turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "James."

James pressed one final kiss to his neck, smug. "Regulus."

With an exaggerated sigh, Regulus finally secured his hair, but not without giving James a pointed glare. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you love me."

Regulus huffed, shoving past him to leave the bathroom. "Debatable."

James only laughed, following him like a lovesick puppy. "Not even a little."

And, as always, the morning routine continued.

[shyamanuensis]

Boyfriend Benefits - Ominis/Sebastian

It's Ominis' 18th! Shame you're too busy celebrating with someone else. 18+ MDNI.

Ominis Gaunt was fucking perfect - he had charm, smarts and that oh so delicate touch. The perfect boyfriend, as your friends would always comment and to that you had to agree. The most perfect thing about him though? Ah, well now that was his best friend. The one with his head currently between your thighs as you clawed like a cat in heat at your bedsheets.

“It’s alright Ominis - don’t worry. You enjoy your party, I’ll make sure she gets back to her dorm in one piece.”

What a fucking lie that was. Instead of partying as the rest of the 7th years were out at the Astronomy Tower on a Saturday evening, you were insatiable as Sebastian nipped at the drenched blue lace of your panties, thumbs wrapped eagerly around the material to slide it to the side and out of the way. Ominis had always been about control. That’s what your initial friendship and since then relationship had been based off of. He said jump, you’d ask how high. He said no, you knew better than to ask again. Sebastian however - no; a complete 180 degree spin which is what made this little behind closed doors agreement between the two of you so much more than it should have been.

“You sure? She’s my girlfriend after all.” “Ominis please, you only turn 18 once. Enjoy the night. I’ll drop her off, make sure she gets into bed and then come back and grab us some shots.”

He was impulsive, he was opportunistic, he was mischevious. A magnet of chaos you couldn’t pull yourself away from and that he knew all too well which is why instead of having his lips currently wrapped around a shot glass celebrating his best friends 18th, he had them wrapped instead around your clit. You had tried to buck your hips in response, yet his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs kept you in place. Exactly where he wanted you. Unable to shift, unable to move, only able to receive exactly what he had planned for you.

“Alright - well, don’t take too long Sebastian...”

The fact you both only had minutes alone before suspicions were raised made this whole forbiddence just that more beguling. Feeling him kiss at your folds, Sebastian treated each to a nip; his bite gentle to pull and let the sensitive skin slip from between his teeth. The attention earnt him your hands racing down to snake within his messy hair, a barely there moan which saunted around the room, surrounding your earlier silence. Desperate for more, you felt your body wriggle and shift beneath him. As if on cue, he darted his tongue teasing at your entrance; releasing the grip he had on your thighs just enough to let you fuck yourself on his tongues tip.

“Oh fuck… Seb…” “Mhmm”, he murmured against your clit, the vibrations doing things to your body you weren’t sure were actually capable of achieving; “Ominis said you liked that. Dirty little minx.”

Fuck. Shit. Ughhhh. They’d been talking about you. In enough detail that this had been brought up. It was only the other day Ominis had tried it out on you. Forced you to fuck yourself with and come on his tongue after a session of depraved restraint he’d forced you to have. Bringing yourself to edge while bound to his bed with the use of only his tongue while he lay there, not lifting a finger forcing you to do all the work. That memory, that image, alone was enough to near bring you to the brink of pleasure again; and just as you thought Sebastian might indulge you, indulge in you, for a little more tonight, you felt his lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs; the lacy material pulled across sling to recover your intimacy.

“...not fair Sallow.” The words come out with a pine, ache and plea. You want to keep him here - selfishly. You always fucking do, but tonight - no. it would be too obvious. Fingers detangling from his hair, you watch him through heavy lidded eyes get up onto his feet and smirk at you. That stupid boyish grin you wish you could… just sit on. A hand slipped down to finish the work he started you’re desperately drawing figure eights and stars against yourself.

“I’ll be back - don’t you worry. It’s just, I promised Ominis we’d have a drink.”

Ah yes, your boyfriend. His 18th. The one you should have been celebrating but had become a little too inebriated to. You watched as he left your dorm without a single further word spoken, the sound of a chuckle to himself being the only thing which lingered down the corridors and into your partially opened dorm door. Fuck Sebastian Sallow. Fuck that god damn Slytherin slut who was just.. just… fucking perfect. Maybe your dreams tonight would bring you back to Gaunt.

[yustea]

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Paring: bf Jisung x afab reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After a long week of stress, work and quick fucks, Y/N and Han are desperate to let off some steam. However, when Y/N comes up with the idea of incorporating Viagra in their sex life, will they be able to handle it when that desperation escalates to drug-induced, animalistic fucking?

Genre: +18 content so MDNI, bf Jisung, slight crack, wild primal smut!, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: switch!sub-lean!Han, switch!Y/N, unsafe!use!of!viagra!, Y/N is a MENACE, protected sex (reader has an IUD)!, intoxicated!sex!, dazed!sex!, primal!thoughts(?)!, rough!manhandling!, biting!, marking!, hair!tugging!, pussy!eating!, mutual!masturbation!, rough!fingering!, messy!, cum!eating!, riding!, doggy!style!, creampie! (wrap it before you tap it), pet!names! (babe, baby!boy!, darling, my love, baby, pretty baby), mentions of shower!sex!, possession!, crying!

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

WARNING: This use and representation of Viagra is INACCURATE and UNSAFE to take. Please DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME and always THOROUGHLY RESEARCH and CONSULT WITH HEALTH PROFESSIONALS before consuming ANY TYPE OF DRUG.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Han quizzed as he squinted at the fineprint upon the box, thoroughly underlining each section of text with a delicate finger. He glanced between the spoons, the scattered viagra pills decorating the countertop of the kitchen and you, who was dividing equal portions to two glasses. You swatted a hand, pooh-poohing his validated concern. “Babe, if I’m being honest, I could give less of a fuck right now,” you waltzed to the sink carrying the glasses and filling them up to equal levels. “It’s been ages since we’ve spiced up our sex life cause of work and other events,” you placed them on the counter, dropping two pills per cup and stirring them vigorously with a spoon. “And frankly,” you squatted down to watch them rapidly dissolve in the liquid, Han following suit. “I need a hard and rough fuck.”

A spluttered cough was sounded to your left, a smirk etching your lips as you glanced at the eruption of rouge gracing his flushed face. “Cat caught your tongue darling?” you battered your lashes, presenting him with your best seductive siren eyes. “Sh-shut up,” he choked out, playfully slapping your shoulder. You chuckled, returning your sight to the now foggy solution slowly swirling around in the glasses. “Yaayyyy, it’s done!!” you jumped up in glee, rapidly clapping your hands in excitement. Hurriedly, you passed a glass to Han, beaming at him with eagerness as he gingerly took the glass from your hand. He swallowed.

“What if something goes wrong?” Han gazed into your eyes, a frown forming as worry and unsurety splayed across his features. You cupped his cheek with a hand, gently caressing his smooth skin. “If it’s that much of an issue, we don’t have to do it,” you assured him. He leaned into your touch, a brief moment passing before he quickly shook his head. “Fuck it, we only live once,” he stated before winding your arm around his to create a love shot. A devilish grin unfurled from your lips as a mischievous glint illuminated your eyes. “That’s the spirit baby boy,” you winked at him. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” A quiet chortle erupted from your mouth.

“Bottoms up my love,” you clinked glasses and with that you both downed the drinks, grimacing at the bitter after-taste. “That tasted like shit,” Han gagged, cutely wrinkling his nose as he set aside his glass. “Agreed,” your body shuddered in response to the disgusting flavour. A quiet silence enveloped the atmosphere, both of you lost in thought. “Well,” he voiced after a moment. “I guess we’ll see how long this’ll take.”

He drummed his fingers against the counter as you hummed in agreement, anticipation lacing your veins. “I think I’m going to have a shower,” you contemplated, leaning in to place a delicate peck to his cheek. You brushed against his ear. “Don’t miss me too much my love,” you murmured, gently nibbling the cartilage, teasingly pulling away before he could touch you. A frustrated smirk adorned his lips, his grip tightening against the kitchen bench. “You little tease,” he sighed as he shook his head, gaze trailing after you as you sauntered off to the bathroom, flashing him a final wink before locking the door behind you.

Not even ten minutes later cool water sprayed against your heated and tingly skin as thick globs of arousal dripped down your thighs. A primal fog of desperation clouded your logic and senses as you rapidly rubbed your clit. A loud mewl ripped from your throat in need. “J-jisung-,” you panted, now humping your hand in swift, erratic, pulsating motions. As if summoned, an urgent knock echoed the bathroom walls and a meek “B-babe?” was whimpered behind the locked door. You scrambled out of the shower, not bothering to dry off nor change. With jittery hands you unlocked the door and your world paused as your eyes feasted on the sight before you.

There, in the doorway, stood Han. You took in his bare form; gleaming sweat glistened against his rubicund complexion, strips of hair clung to his damp forehead, primaeval lust embellished his virile features as he shamelessly eyed your naked body. His chest expanded and contracted with each heave, his ligaments twitching in agitated desire. Your gaze slowly trailed his sculpted frame, admiring his lean physique and halting at the prize that stood tall and proud between his limbs. The bulbous tip was tinted in an angry crimsoned hue as dribbles of precum leaked from the slit, defining veins protruding from his long shaft. Your breath hitched as you encompassed in the view of his erected dick, your thighs clenching as lewd thoughts swam in your drug-induced mind. An audible gulp echoed as a treacle of arousal slid down your legs. You flickered your eyes back to his.

As if possessed, your mouths collided, inflicting a chaotic battle of tongues and teeth as your hands roamed each other's skin. With a bang, Han slammed the door shut, rattling the condiments on the counter and pinning you against the cool door as he continued to devour you. Choirs of breathy whines escaped your throats as desperation and impatience surged through your bodies. You harshly holstered your legs around his hips, forcing his thigh to wedge between your palpitating cunt. A jolted moan erupted from your lips at the contact, eyes rolling back as you broke the violent transit of kissing. Han dived for your exposed neck, littering bruising bites as his canines lightly pierced your skin. Your mouth gaped in a silent shriek as he continued his nimble ministrations, leaving a stream of red and warm-purple blotches in his wake as he pursued down, down, until he was level with your sopping pussy.

He inhaled deeply, basking in your alluring scent as a guttural groan resonated throughout his thorax. A carnal, possessive desire infatuated his being as he moistened his lips. “Mine,” he growled before licking rabid strips against your mound. A choked whine cascaded your vocals as he demolished your throbbing heat. You rutted your hips in sync with his beastly motions as your animalistic temperament consumed your entire consciousness. “Ji-Jisu-ng,” you gasped. He glanced up, his brown doe eyes glinting with need as his hand wandered between his legs, hissing in pleasure as he held his seeping cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began to jack off, setting an undulated rapid pace. He thumbed his tip, earning a desperate mewl as more semen leaked from the angry slit. The vibrations of his vocals rippled against your clit, sprinkling your mind with a euphoric sensation. Your hips became hasty as you chanted his name like a mantra.

“Cl-cl-clos-e,” you breathly whined as your fingers intertwined in his sweaty locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, jolting a loud whimper from his mouth and spurring Han to fasten his motions. “M-me t-too,” he sighed, flinging his head back as he felt the surge of his impending release. He roughly pummelled two fingers into your wet heat, haphazardly scissoring you open, leaving you gaping and breathless. He began toying with your clit, mirroring his antics with the head of his shaft. You both elicited a loud moan at the stimulation, wildly humping your hips as you and Han chased your orgasms. “Go-nna c-cum!” you cried as you fell over the edge of tranquil bliss. Your juices squirted on Han’s hand and pleasure-ridden face, his own cum splattering against your quaking legs and the wooden door, painting it a creamy hue.

In an esurient daze, Han hungrily lapped at your sweet fluid, groaning as the taste flooded his searing tongue. You continued to rut against his mouth, gradually riding out your high. Deep, heavy, pants plagued the bathroom as both you and Han caught your breaths, the scents of your arousals pluming the air as need slowly began to itch at your veins once more. You felt a soft tap below your kneecap and peered down to see the quivering body of Han. Sat perched on his knees, eyes shimmering with a silent plea as his cock was still erected and vibrantly red as a meek whimper chorused his throat. “P-please,” he begged as water glistened his tear ducts. “N-need t-to f-uck you.” He snaked his arms around your waist before gently dragging you down, plonking you onto his cum coated lap, whining at the contact against his tingly skin.

Your limbs shook as you exhaustingly hoisted yourself above his pulsating shaft, drooling at the sight of his tip continuing to seep his semen. You wet your lips. “R-ready?” you horsley cooed. An eager nod was all you needed before you plunged his member deep into your slick chore. You both abruptly gasped, a lewd whine following suit at the sensation. You began to bounce, repeatedly pounding on his cock as the primal fog enveloped you with desire once more. Han’s jaw fell slack as his mouth gaped in silent, intoxicated bliss. Rugged pants reverberated across the confined space, your breaths mixing and intertwining with one another as you quickened your pace. You grazed your hand against his cheek, tilting his head as you pressed your lips against his, exchanging saliva in a sloppy, feverish kiss.

Han angled his face, devouring your mouth as he planted his heels against the smooth surface of the tiles and thrusted. Riveting bursts of pleasure raced throughout your bodies with each smack of your hips as he repeatedly struck your g-spot. Sparks flew in your vision, almost becoming palpable. His nails dug into your skin, embellishing them with crescent-shaped marks. Laboured whines and moans encircled the atmosphere as you teetered on the edge of utopia. “S-so c-clo-se!” Han panted, his pace now rabid in desperation to orgasm. “M-e t-too!” you cried as your wet heat clenched his twitching dick like a vise.

In a sudden lurch, Han flipped you onto your stomach, accidentally thumping the cabinetry in suit as a series of loud clatters tinkered against the counter, sink and ground. Without a care, Han continued to piston his hips into your sopping pussy, now in doggy-style. He gently raked his nails down your exposed nape to the curve of your ass, a lewd groan surging from his throat. “M-my p-pretty ba-by,” he whined as he ran his hand to the back of head and gave a firm tug on your damp hair. You gave a vehement mewl at the sensation, carving your palms with moon-like streaks. “C-cu-m-ming!” you squealed, clouded speckles blinding your vision as you came. Your juices plashed against his pulsating shaft as he gave a final cry before drowning your drenched cunt in his thick ropes of cum.

Filthy whimpers enveloped the room as Han continued to half-heartedly rut into your core. Your filled heat spasmed as overstimulation began to settle in your limbs as you gradually came down from your high, your sight becoming crystal. Once your breathing regulated a little, Han’s arms gave in and he collapsed on top of you, enveloping you in his embrace. He delicately brushed aside stray strands of your hair before placing a loving peck upon your forehead and slumping beside you. “Wow,” he wheezed after a moment’s pause, your chests heaving in exhaustion as you regained your bearings. With quaking limbs you sat up, gazing upon the tarnished bathroom as scatters of health-care and beauty products adorned the floor, some oozing liquid from its fractured encasement.

“We’ve fucked the bathroom,” you gruffly chuckled, wincing slightly as your throat felt like sandpaper. Han propped himself up and his eyes widened as a sheepish grin graced his flushed features. “My bad,” he grimaced before expelling in a coughing fit and laying back down on the cold tile as he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. You glanced at him, a small smile gracing your lips before your eyes flitted to the cum-stained door, some of Han’s essence still dripping onto the tiled floor. “We should really clean that before it permanently discolours it,” you gestured to the ghastly evidence. Han merely hummed before you attempted to stand up, only to have your knees buckle and flop to the ground in exhaustion. A muffled laugh chorused from your side.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “This is your fault.” A small pout formed on your face as you softly slapped his arm in feign annoyance. Han only giggled more before he sat eye-level with you. “Sorry my love,” he grinned before pecking your pouty lips. He stood up with a groan, carefully dodging the fallen objects before returning with a damp towel and thoroughly wiped the edge of the door, chucking it in the bin afterward. “What about me?” you teasingly huffed, gesturing to your leaking pussy as a mixture of both your fluids trickled onto the floor. He playfully rolled his eyes, already retrieving another damp cloth before bending down and delicately wiping away the remnants of your cums. Your breath hitched at the cool touch, sucking on your lip to suppress any audible whimpers.

“You know,” you started after a pause as Han’s eyes flickered up to yours. “With how hard you fucked me, you probably broke my IUD in two.” A startled choking noise sounded from him as his skin ran a deeper crimson. You cackled at his response before cupping his rouged face in your hands, halting his motions as you caressed his warm cheeks. “My shy baby,” you cooed, planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. Your mouths moulded in sync as Han dropped the cloth and mirrored the kiss, sighing in contentment as he held you closer. You carefully broke the kiss, pulling back to admire his handsome features as he reclined into your palms. “I love you,” you whispered. A warm smile spread across his face as he leant in to peck your forehead. “I love you too,” he hummed, staring at you adoringly.

Suddenly, he stiffened. His face flushed a deeper crimson. You felt something prod your core. Han quickly glanced down. Then back at you. Your eyes widened. A bashful smirk adorned his face.

“Round two?”

A/N: Heyyyyy guys I'm backkkk!!! I've been working on this fic for a while now so I hope you all enjoyed it :)) ALSO WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWS!! I'm so happy!! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking around when I haven't been posting much, it really means a lot to me :)). Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

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[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Random Cleaning management

You will need to occasionally run a cleaning cycle for your washing machine. Most shops have some kind of powder for it.

Otherwise your clothes will start smelling musty and the machine itself can get cloggedup and gross.

Also, you will need to use drain cleaner on your kitchen and bathroom sinks, shower drain, laundry sink.

Apparently you also need to do it for dishwashers, if youre lucky to have a robot for that odious little task.

And check the lint catcher in your dryer to avoid fires.

Mirrors, you can use your glass cleaner and s scrunkled newspaper

Wipe the top of fans of dust. And the top of the fridge. And the furniture.

Make peace with the reality that there will always be dust and you one day will also be dust.

Wipe the taps. They can get gunky.

Spray on cleaners for the bathroom are great but you're going to have to actually clean it eventually.

Get a mop if you have tiles or laminate flooring. It makes a difference.

Wipe the cupboards. Esp if you have pets.

Not sure if this works for all walling but like, diluted sugar soap cleans most stuff. Thats the stuff that worked when i was a kid.

You can get leather wipes or a spray and some chux for armchairs and shit.

If you have little demons who take out your table cloths, most cheap stores have these little table weights in a four pack. It can stop them annihilating your table.

Dont auto assume furniture polish needs to go on any wood you got. But it also doesnt hurt to try the test patch thing in a small spot.

Wash your fucking curtains at some point in the year. They collect dust and cat hair. If you cant vacuum it or whatever, shake em outside and wash it.

If your vacuum isnt that strong, nothing wrong with a lint roller or a little brush to get stubborn fluff from carpet or rugs.

Move the furniture once every so often for a clean. So much. Dust and fluff can get under there.

Keep your cleaning shit all together in a closable location. Lockable as needed if you have kids. So they dont chug a potion of uh oh.

Hang shirts on coathangers if you have limited line space. If its long sleeved or thick, you may need to still hang them.

Oh and you save space/pegs if you get one of the specialised holders. Undies, socks, headbands etc. It'll fit and dry quick.

Most shops and camping stores have easily collapsible washing lines and things. Great for if you need extra space, or if its pissing rain and it has to dry inside, or you need to just spread something out weird.

You will never win against a fitted sheet.the gods abandoned us aeons ago.

If you wash thick things like blankets or bath mats, getting some heavier duty metal pegs van be a game changer. Esp if the wind tunnel by your place can blast shit off the line with the most mininmal provocation.

Chair leg protectors... the stick on ones will slide off and they hate you personally.

If you have messy animal eaters in the house,there are like silicone mats and even towel ones although to make your own, you can even cut out of old towels and put a hem or whatevs. Under the bowls? Saves the floor and easily washed.

Flip the mattress. Get a mattress protector too. There will be a day someone spills a drink or jas an accident, or a pet throws up. Just do it. Also wash the mattress protector. Please.

If you have a small bedroom and a big vacuum? For a deep clean, push the mattress off the bed and pick up the slats. Takes extra effort but it gets that deep clean.

Glen20 is a friend but like, you do need to wipe surfaces. Eventually. Wipe the bottom of the bin. Hot water. Bin juice gets sticky and no stink pretty spray fixes it.

Smelly shoes needs to sit in the sun, you can also put newspaper in there to sop up extra.

If clothes or blankets smell off after storage, wash em.

Fabric softner. Not necessary. Can fuck up things like towels and period panties and some delicate items.

Clothes and things have labels on them for a reason. If you love the item, read them.

Cant fit a full ass ironing board? You can get a mini one. I gound mine at an op shop. But you can also get a mat from stores like bunnings and big w.

Litter boxes. Give the thing a wipe over regulalrly. Especially if you dont use the tray bag things. I use a puppy pad under a litter tray liner thing. Only because i have frantic diggers who will try to hide it in china. Wash the litter box and any floor protector mats.

Speaking of the dunny, you can get little cubes to put in the cistern to clean on flush, if you dsilike cage cleaners. But, you still have to scrub the thunderbox in some way, and use the little toilet cleaner and spray up under the rim. It gets evil up there.

Have some containers for your hobbies and crafts, helps to cycle them in and out easier.

Do not. Use cleaners with the abandon of a drunk wizard hurling everything in a cauldron. Be in a ventilated room, door open if you can. Use one product at a time and pay attention to whats in it so you dont gas yourself by accident.

Shopping list magnet on the fridge can help are u gonna forget it on occasion? Sure. Take a photo of it on shopping day.

Wipe out your fridge. Defrost the freezer. Check the brand type and see if theres any instructions for it.

Wash your Toys. Please. Dont give yourself an infection internally or externally. But if you do, remember that your dr is there to help not judge you. Dont delay out of embarrsssment.

Change your loofa. Change your toothbrush. Change your washing up slonge regulalry.

Steel wool is your friend for anti rust mess. Lovely knife sets sometimes get moisture and need a scrub. Also needs to be sharpened. You can get a device for it or see a professional (have never fogotten the post about the knife truck that circled a neighbourhood like an ice cream truck).

Occasionally pull out all your co tainers and lids. Check who is a single, double check for missing pair, and either repurpose or toss.

Any wooden items in your kitchen really look at them at least a few times a year. Moldy? Toss it. Been submerged in water and never quite dried? Sorry, has to go.

Especially a cutting board with sus looking colours in the grooves. Gotta go. And plastic ones that are all hacked up? Repurpose it or toss it.

Wipe the splashback tiles around the sinks. Theres more than you think on there.

Wipe the windows. Promise theyre dirtier than you think.

Clean. Your. Fucking microwave. And. Oven.

For like recyclable items like water bottles and cans, a garden bag in a 60L bin tucked in a corner is a helpful solution. Resdy to go right to containers for change when full.

You do not need 3ven 1/10th of the must haves on tiktok or snap or insta. You just need shit that works for you.

Listen, my house gets messy regularly for like, the fact theres only so much time in a day. But occasionaly remembering one of these things and doing it can help unfuck your head and environment.

Theres probs more, you accumulate adulting and cleaning stuff. Add more as you think of it.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but how has your opinion changed on Steven Universe now than when it first aired? Like I have fond memories of watching the show while it was airing but now I realize that it had a lot of problems that I feel like a lot of fans either flat out ignore or bend over backwards to make sure their rose tinted glasses stay on.

... okay, fair question. Let's talk about this.

I'll try not to wax poetic too long, but there are a lot of things to be said here.

First and foremost - how has my opinion changed since the show has ended?

Simply put - it hasn't.

When I started watching Steven Universe over 7 years ago, I didn't have much knowledge of it. I sat down, saw a few of episodes and went 'well, this is a silly show for kids with a goofy but loveable protagonist... but it seems like it's also incredibly charming with its delivery and has some nice, more complex themes about loss and healing and grief throughout.'

And if you ask me what Steven Universe is now... I would probably say that exact same thing.

Am I wearing rose tinted lenses? Interesting question.

What ARE 'rose tinted lenses' in this context anyway?

What do these lenses represent? What do they obscure?

Since you didn't go into specifics, I can only assume what you're referring to when you say that many fans ignore the show's problems.

There have been many discussions surrounding various aspects of the show and how it might be read as 'problematic' (ahhh how I've come to despise that word.... without context, it has all the descriptive power of the word 'icky' - none of the critical details and all of the emotional punch of scrunching up your face like a cat that just sniffed a lemon...)

Is this about something as simple as the 'SU doesn't have a consistent size for its characters' debate?

Because that has been gone back to, over and over again, and proven to be a point of opinion. SU favored allowing storyboarders to show off their personal flourish, and even though Peridot was 30% hair in that one episode, it did not overall take away from the plotline being told, which was their goal. If you wanted to watch a show with consistent styling throughout, you can always watch a 3D modeled show, but keeping that up was simply never one of SU's main pillars. And I feel like it didn't have to be.

Is this about something more complex such as the way Rose was presented?

...and how her arc was shown backwards instead of forwards - showing first the person she became in the end, and afterwards revealing all the growth she had to have to get there?

That was on purpose! And I don't think this is a problem. It's a feature, not a bug. Rose was never meant to be an ideal character - she was meant to be complicated and messy, and I think the fact that the fandom is so split in their opinions of her shows that the Crewniverse pulled that off really well!

She fucked over Bismuth! She forced Pearl to be silent! Those are both parts of her character arc that were never resolved because she died before she could resolve it - that's BY DESIGN. Sometimes, you just do something absolutely stupid and cruel, and you cannot go back to fix it.

Is this about the Diamonds? The fact that they were not put in space jail, after being put on trial for space crimes, and then publicly executed for space eco-genocide?

Here's the thing - most people I know who watched and loved SU are fully aware of that. But simply put - Steven Universe was not a story about Revenge.

Steven Universe was a story about love. A story about family. A story about truth, and lies, and hurt, and healing. About how sometimes healing doesn't happen. And how sometimes it will, but you won't be around to see it.

But it's not a story that can be all things for all people.

That is the thesis of my reply: It is a story.

It is not a manifesto. It is not a bible. It is not a Complete Truth.

It is a single story. Made by a group of very talented people, who cared about these characters, who did their best. They made a funny, emotional, well-drawn and complex cartoon show about the things THEY personally wanted to tell stories about.

Does it answer all questions the way everyone wants them answered? No. That's impossible.

Everyone wants a different story. Everyone wants a different solution, a different resolution. A different ending.

Steven Universe is one story. It cannot satisfy all people.

So when you ask me 'has your opinion of Steven Universe changed'? The answer is 'no'.

I went in, expecting to see a story. I saw a lot of what I liked! I saw some parts which I thought were interesting. I saw some parts which, yes, I disagreed with a little.

But overall, it's a good story. And that's what I expected, and that's what I got, which means I'm pretty satisfied. I love that story.

I feel like recently, there's this expectation of media, to be Everything For All People. And it's a bit unrealistic. No one call tell the perfect story. We are all simply telling the stories we want to tell. And people will vibe with that, more or less.

A single story, made by a small group of people, will never be that for you. There will never be an Unproblematic Cartoon that you watch that will be devoid of things you disagree with.

Being critical of media doesn't mean 'Criticize the FUCK outta that media, and the one with the least criticisms is the best one'.

Critical thinking is about evaluating things critically - that means being critical of YOURSELF. Being critical of your OWN reactions. Asking 'why did I like this?' and 'why did I dislike this?'. Asking 'this doesn't mesh with me, but who WOULD it mesh with? It isn't for me, but who is it for? Who would it hurt, but also who would it help?'

Some people HATED how SU: Future ended. They beat their fists on the wall and cried about how Steven was leaving his family behind, and how THEY could never imagine doing something like that, and how he was running away from his problems just like Rose had.

Me? I loved it. I think it was the right choice, and I COULD imagine it and thought it was in character. I thought he needed to be his own person, instead of shouldering everyone else's responsibilities for once. Was one of us more right than the other? Maybe not? Maybe that was the whole point?

Loving things is not about putting on rose colored glasses. Sometimes, choosing to love something with flaws is an act of rebellion. It's about knowing you have differences, but understanding that there is value in the things you DO agree on, and knowing you can consume that.

Healthy consumption of media does not mean throwing the whole cartoon away as soon as you notice something is wrong with it, like a bruise on an apple.

Healthy consumption of media involves critical thinking AND feeding yourself. Acknowledging you may disagree with parts of it, but not starving yourself just because your apples all have small imperfections.

Eat, for fuck's sake. Feed yourself. You'll feel better.

Thassit.

[garagepaperback]

dandy They go to five different shops and still nothing. Ron suggests and then insists they break for food, which Harry allows because the next shop is in France and even if he pushed his fringe aside and they managed a last minute international Floo with no reservation, it still doesn’t open for another hour. 

Across the tiny bistro table at Hera’s, the posh little cafe off Diagon that both of them hate, Harry’s halfway through writing back to Pansy for the fourth time this morning. Ron, with a mouthful of his second inexcusably expensive mini breakfast roll, says, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Harry blows out a lung and half’s worth of air, considering that response enough and folds the note up, shoving it towards the owl waiting at the open windowsill. It shouldn’t be this hot for early June. He woke up sweating, if he’s being honest, due to a couple of reasons. One of which is currently filling his stomach with lead, which reminds him of the small box in his pocket, resting against his thigh which is the reason and somehow also lead - getting the hair potion is the simpler task to focus on. 

“How about just doing a date night in a week or something?” Ron manages to sound almost like he believes it. He works innocently through another bite of sausage, bacon and egg but the smirk leaks through.

“Yeah. He’d love a quiet, no-fuss thing on his lunch break, maybe. It’s not like he’s one for details or drama or anything like that.” Harry belatedly notices the owl still there, staring at him, and bargains with a messy three-quarters of his already quite small pastel de nata, shooing it away once it accepts the bribe. Pansy’s in charge of the fireworks and she’s being a complete wanker about it.

Maybe that isn't fair - he’s very tired. Harry hadn’t actually woken up today as much as eventually conceded that it was morning after a full eight hours of staring at the back of his own eyelids. Next to him, Draco, however, had slept like the fucking minister of sleep, like an angel that was born only to dream and look really docile and soft and comfortable or whatever other kind of thing slept well - Harry doesn't know, he's too knackered for the metaphor. 

Just before bed, Draco checked the post and grumbled that the fancy hair potion he'd ordered last week hadn’t shown up and then Harry’s entire plan for today had begun its slow-motion avalanche. It’s bordering on a real disaster, at this point, though he can’t really tell if the feeling is actually big or it's the enormity of the day itself making everything feel huge. He drinks a hurried mouthful of coffee and leans over a little, staring through the window like that might summon the owl back quicker. 

“Do you think it matters that much? Like, in terms of the whole plan, d’you think he really cares about getting the shampoo he likes?”

“Not sure if you’ve met him.” Harry says, not taking his eyes off the empty street, the view from the window. It just feels like the owl could come back faster this way, and once the fireworks and the semi-legal aura-borealis-in-a-bottle are all confirmed, he can relax even just a single molecule more. “But he’s sort of like a really finicky breed of show cat. That I live with.”

Ron supplies, “And, that you shag.”

“And, that I shag.” Harry smiles.

“That you’re gonna marry.”

The smile stretches, dangerously close to huge. “That I’m going to marry.”

“I think, who cares about the shampoo, then.”

“I care.” Upending his glasses, Harry digs a knuckle into one eye, like he can push back the exhaustion and heart-obliterating anxiety and whatever other massive, wonderful, terrifying feelings linger all over, brimming just under the skin. “It’s not about the hair potion, though he is like, one Victorian petticoat thing away from going full dandy." Harry pushes a hand through his hair, looking back at Ron. "There's no way he's gonna say no, but it’s just... worth doing. Not to convince him, but. He notices stuff like this, all these little things, which makes me notice more little things, which makes the whole world feel like it's got more to it, like it's deeper or fuller or something and it's because of him that I-”

“Okay, save it for the vows, Merlin.” Ron pops in the sixth and final mini roll and stands up, chewing and thoughtful. He checks his watch, all in, Harry’s best fucking man. The best man. “Percy should be behind his very important department of transportation desk by now. We can bully him into getting the Floo authorization for bloody Paris, and still be back in time to meet Ginny at the bakery to get the cakes off to Wiltshire before your future husband even wakes up and wonders where you've gone off to.” “Future husband.” Harry repeats and Ron's grin is wildly contagious. Or maybe it's been idling in him even through the sleepless night, because he actually couldn't wait for today and today could hardly wait for him. Standing, he finishes off the coffee and runs a nervous, ready hand over his pocket. Inside, a weightless thing made enormous because it's the whole rest of his life, eager to arrive.

for day 27 of @microficmay

[insilanar]

Any lestappen fic rec to share ? 😣 Any favourite author on ao3! I need some!

Hi anon 😘 Of course! In fact I've actually been working on a personal fic rec, so I'm glad I get to share it with you!

Here you go, hope you enjoy <3

Lestappen fic rec

Short-ish fics 🩵

control systems a College AU by @itsgoingdutchin2021 | 1.2 k

Summary:

Due to an unfortunate encounter in their freshman year, both Charles and Max hate each other. Then they are assigned a group project.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

your hands are cold a High School AU by dhufflebee | 3.9 k

Summary:

“I feel like this event should really be called ‘Frosty Fusion’ or something like that.”“That is, of course, incredibly stupid.”“Hey!”“It doesn’t mean that ‘Snowmen Competition’ isn’t the most boring name ever, though.”OR: long-time friends and rivals Charles and Max hail from neighboring schools, and brave the biting cold, the challenges of snow sculpture, and their own buried feelings

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Kiss It Goodbye (Your Little Panic Attack) F1 Fic by @celientjeee | 5.1 k

Summary:

‘What- How did you do that?’ Charles asked, he still felt a bit shaken and hot, but the tingling had disappeared.Max smiled at him and let his hands drop away from Charles’ cheeks.‘I once read that holding your breath could stop a panic attack and when I kissed you, you held your breath.’‘I did?’ Charles winced at how high his voice sounded. OR: Charles gets a panic attack and Max helps him (more than once)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Fics between 10 k and 20 k 🧡

Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions a Cozy Winter AU by @wanderingblindly | 12.4 k

Summary:

"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine.“Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.”“So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows.Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” OR: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss

Rating: General Audiences

<3

Golden Hour a Uni AU by Chariots4 | 13.2 k

Summary:

Max is a great roommate. So great that when Lando asks him to be part of a music video he’s filming he does so, without asking what it will be about.Turns out he will have to model with no other than Charles Leclerc. As lovers. The two men’s desire to not be outdone by the other takes the whole thing to new levels.

Rating: Explicit

-> This is also a personal favorite of mine since it was my first ever Formula 1 RPF fic and honestly, it's written amazingly well!👌

<3

oui chef a Chef AU by @sunshineyoujustwait | 16.2 k

Summary:

There’s someone standing in his kitchen.He looks young, maybe close to Max’s age, with messy dark brown hair that’s pulled back from his face by a red bandana, and he’s leaning against the kitchen counter like he’s supposed to be here.Max’s first rather unhelpful thought is; fuck, he’s gorgeous. His second, more reasonable thought is;“Who the fuck are you?”“Charles Leclerc,” the man smiles. It's a little bit dazzling and Max is not at all distracted by it. He extends his hand for Max to shake. “I’m your new executive sous chef.” OR: Max is very happy with his life, thank you very much. He has his restaurant, his team, and two Michelin stars at the age of 24. He definitely does not need some pretentious Monegasque chef coming in and throwing everything into chaos.Except, maybe he does.

Rating: General Audiences

<3

you got me a College AU by @fueledbyremembering | 16.6 k

Summary:

When Max looks up he stares into pretty green eyes behind black rimmed glasses. His hand is still blindly feeling around to find the books—his brain lagging—as he stares at the guy from last night. He straightens up and Max follows, staring dumbly as he holds out the books for Max to take.“Thanks,” Max says, feeling like an idiot as he takes the books, their fingers brushing for a split second. This was not how he wanted to meet again. “Again, I’m so sorry.”The guy smiles and Max thinks he might just die a little when he notices he has dimples. Of course he has dimples. OR: Max falls head over heels for the cute guy at a college party and he can't stop thinking about him (aka the lestappen college au nobody needs).

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

<3

Fics above 30 k ❤

Late night devil put your hands on me a Thief/Detective AU by @f1-giuki | 42.1 k

Summary:

"Do you want to know what is more incredible?" Max asks, staring at Charles' full and round pecs without any shame. "What?" Charles asks, enjoying how Max's cheeks get redder and redder as he licks clean the fork. "Stealing the Nine Pieces of Eight, with me," Max says and Charles drops his fork in the plate. "The Nine pieces of eight? Isn't that like a legend? The owner of those artworks is unknown…" The Monegasque asks, furrowing his brows. Max grins and rolls his eyes. "I know a guy..." Max says, pulling Charles close by the elastic band of his boxers. OR: World-class thief Max Verstappen asks Interpol Detective Charles Leclerc out on a date (to put on the world's most complicated heist ever conceived) but things never go as planned.

Rating: Mature

<3

To Your Heart’s Content a Mafia AU by @cornerofacry | 119.4 k

Summary:

Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance."I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave.Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat.To put himself back together."I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-""Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh. OR: Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.

Rating: Explicit

<3

Favorite lestappen authors 💕

NovaCloud, Richardmarie75, WanderingBlindly, xxcelientje, amarynas, charlescoded, LestappenForever, linearity

Note to the authors: If your fic is on here and you would like me to take it down I will. Feel free to just dm me about it or drop and ask 😌

And anon I hope you find something you like on this list!

[hellfire--cult]

Inspired by this TikTok

Cupid!Eddie x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

Request - Eddie's past - Back to Hawkins

Words: 10.7K

Warnings: Pure absolute fluff and romantical tension. No Smut. You will fall in love with Dorito.

Summary: After bad dates and a heartbreak, you believe god is playing jokes on you. You believe love is not for you anymore, but your own personal cupid comes to the rescue to change just that... You just never thought he would look like that.

A/N: IDK I just loved the idea of that TikTok showing Cupid falling for the girl he is supposed to help, and I found myself writing a whole fucking oneshot of Eddie being the protagonist. Personally, I love this couple! So if you want to send some asks, or blurbs for me to write, I would love to write more oneshots of these two, or even imagines! (and smut ofc) SO ASK AWAY.

If you do get inspired by this story or Cupid!Eddie, please, credit properly! I would love to read or watch whatever you guys make! ❤️ Anyways, ENJOY, and remember that if you liked the story, a reblog is very much appreciated! ❤️

And follow me for more oneshots and series!

You were sure this was a joke.

Like, this had to be a cruel joke sent by someone or anything at all. You were minding your own business, at your company’s annual party, and you could invite guests this year. 

Now, you didn’t expect your own fucking boss, who is ten years older than you, to walk in with your Ex-Boyfriend, hand in hand. The man who told you he loved you, asked for your hand in marriage, and the very next day he told you it was all an impulse. 

You left him on the spot.

That was a year ago, but to see him again, hand in hand with your own boss, who met him before, was just a cruel joke. You almost dropped your glass of champagne as they smiled while walking, introducing themselves to people. The worst part of it all? They looked genuinely happy. You could see it when he would lean over to whisper something in her ear, and she would giggle, or the soft touches of hers fixing his tie, or a strand of hair out of place. 

You were a mess, for a whole year, trying to move on, going date after date, with people that weren’t even in your own interest, but you never rejected a date. But you were now tired, wanting a connection, and it seems like God wanted to laugh at you right now, because he was showing you how your Ex had no problem in doing so, and it seems he found an even better match.

So you went home. You didn’t even stay for the party, and you didn’t even introduce yourself to them. You have seen enough for the night, and all you wanted to do was to get home, pet your fat cat called Dorito, and head to bed. Maybe cry a little.

Makeup gone, hair up in a messy bun, long oversized shirt on, and a pair of large sweatpants, you hopped in your bed with Dorito on your lap, and turned on the TV to find something suitable to watch while you drift to sleep.

But it seems now Cupid wants to laugh at you too.

You change channel through channel. Titanic, The Notebook, Harry meets Sally, Dear John, and fucking Breakfast at Tiffany’s. 

“Are you fucking kidding me you son of a cunt!” Dorito perked up, alarmed, looking at you and you were huffing angrily through your nose, staring at the screen across your bed, turning it off completely and throwing your remote to the floor. You held onto Dorito, under its armpits and made him stand on your lap, in front of you.

“Mreow~” He greeted you and you just felt your eyes fill with hot tears as you looked at him.

“Is cupid playing some fucking joke to me? Why does he get a happy ending and I had no luck whatsoever? Why?! I was the one who got hurt!” Your cat tilted its head to the side as you kept your rant going on, anger and sadness coming out of your mouth. “Fuck love, fuck destiny, fuck the cunt cupid is.” 

The doorbell rang, startling you and Dorito out of your stare contest.

“What the fuck…” You looked at your phone and tapped on it to look at the time. 10:25 PM. Maybe a neighbor in your building had a problem, or needs help with something? You stood up, putting Dorito on your bed, and walked towards the door, looking through the peephole. A man you don’t recognize stood there, long hair down, wearing a black leather jacket and he wasn’t facing the door.

You slowly opened it, a sweet smell invading your nostrils , and you realized he was just a tad taller than you. You cleared your throat and he turned around to flash a dimpled smile towards your way and you felt like your throat had caught on fire by how beautiful this man looked to you.

“Hi! I’m Eddie.” He introduced himself to you and you slowly blinked, coming back to your senses and realizing just how horrible you look right now. You had no makeup on, a messy bun in your head, your sleepwear was on, and you had Stitch slippers on your feet. You blushed a deep red and introduced yourself to him, wanting the earth to swallow you whole.

“Are you new in the building?” He looked around and then back down at you and shook his head.

“No, I’m here for work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m your Cupid.”

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

What did he just say?

“I’m sorry, what?” You were stunned on the ground, staring at the crazy man before you. 

“Like I said, I’m your cupid. I’m here to help you find your one destined partner, and for you to also apologize for the way you–”

You closed the door on his face. No. No way. This is some sick dream of yours, it has to be! Maybe the glass of champagne you took was enough for you to lose your senses and your right mind. Or maybe you’ve gone crazy with loneliness. That is also a really big possibility that you weren’t going to deny. You locked your door, stepped away from it and took a deep breath in.

“Okay, that was weird.” You walked towards your room again, only to scream at the top of your lungs when you saw that man laying against the headboard of your bed, petting your cat that was purring on his chest.

“It is very rude to slam doors on people’s faces.” He glared at you as Dorito started doing biscuits on his chest. You were breathing heavily with your hand on your chest and you pointed at your living room and back at him, and repeated the motion again.

“But you– There– And now here– how?” You couldn’t even formulate a good question. You were completely shocked, because a strange man, who claims to be a being that doesn’t exist, was on your bed, petting your cat with no care in the world. 

“Like I said, I’m cupid. Your cupid to be exact.” He explains as Dorito nuzzles his face against his neck, purring wildly. He is an affectionate cat, but only with you really, so you were surprised he was even doing this to a random man that was on your bed. Who MAGICALLY appeared in your bed.

“What the actual fuck, am I drugged or some shit?”

“Nope.”

“High?”

“Nope.”

“Did I get drunk and didn’t notice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Did I go crazy?”

“Not for now, no.” He was looking at you while you rambled on and on, being patient. You were trying to correct your breathing, gulping loudly as you nodded once in thought.

“Okay… Okay, this is fine… This happens in real life, completely normal…” You said more to yourself than anyone else in the room as you sat at the edge of the bed, looking at nothing in particular. You heard Eddie sigh, as he put Dorito on his belly for him to lay there.

“I know it’s a lot to take, but I sensed you were a little bit distraught, and you even insulted me.” He says with a stern look on his face and you slowly turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“How is any of this real?”

“Alright. I’m going to explain it to you so you can finally digest what’s going on.” He readjusted himself, putting Dorito on his lap as he sat right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s got a special cupid. We normally don’t get to work unless the person actually feels discouraged and hopeless in terms of love.” 

“I’m not discouraged–”

“Yes, yes you are, and I don’t blame you. Seeing an ex move on happily when you remain stuck is not something easy to see, much less if all the guys you’ve been seeing till now were a complete waste of time.” He says with a chuckle and you were still trying to comprehend what’s going on right now. Maybe you need to sleep, but if this is a dream, then might as well get some advice.

“Alright… So why are you sending me these guys that are horrible for me? Don’t you know who’s the one for me? Like my destined person?” You ask and he started petting your cat on his lap as it purred loudly while he looked forward.

“No. I don’t know who your match is, nor the one for you. And before today, I never sent anyone your way, nor made you fall for anyone, not even with your ex.” He explains to you and you were frowning in confusion at his words.

“I thought cupids, like… Throw an arrow through two people’s hearts and they fall in love.” At that Eddie lets out a wild laugh, shaking his head. 

“No, no… That’s all Cartoon stuff. We only help consummate a relationship. We help our person be hopeful about love again.” He explains to you and you were still wondering how he would help in this situation.

“So, how does this work?” 

“Well, I can make you meet people that might be of your taste, just out of pure coincidence. I can help you with your looks, with your confidence, and also advise you.” He finishes saying as Dorito lets out a big yawn and you couldn’t help but yawn as well, copying his movement. 

“So, you will basically hook me up with someone and hope for the best. Is that it?” He chuckles at you, shrugging and standing from the bed.

“Something like that, but we’ll see. For now, go to bed.” You were feeling your eyes growing heavy, and your body completely relaxed as the sweet scent invaded your nostrils. This was a good dream, knowing your mind made up a little cupid to feel hopeful of finding someone for you. The one.

Yeah, you really wanted to find the one.

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling so refreshed, like you had slept correctly for once in your life. 

You sighed happily when you felt Dorito purring loudly on your chest, waiting for you to wake up. You wrapped your arms around him, caressing him softly. 

“What a dream huh? You were in it too. This cupid dude showed up and you were all over him.” You giggled, sitting up on your bed and you sniffed the air. You slowly stood up, your stomach grumbling with the need of food in your system, and you walked out to the living room. 

You screamed.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!” Eddie thrashed around, the plate on his hand falling onto the sink as he finished washing it. He turned around to look at you with a frown to his brows and widened eyes. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“You– Am I still dreaming?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Dorito was meowing on your arms, trying to get away and you put him down. He waddled towards Eddie, throwing himself on the floor to show him his big fat belly. Eddie bent down and scratched the cat, making him stretch out.

“I told you, I’m real.” He says, getting up again and putting some eggs and bacon on a plate. He put it on the island counter and motioned for you to sit on the stool. You slowly walked towards it, sitting on it, not leaving your sight off Eddie.

“This is crazy… Am I the only one who can see you?” You ask as you see the plate pushed over to you and an empty glass. You frowned at it and looked at him. “Where’s the juice?” He smiled at you and looked down at the glass again and you followed it, seeing the glass now with the orange liquid inside.

Your heart was beating against your chest, the nerves flying all around your belly. This was real, he is real, what he is doing, as magical as it appears, it’s real. 

“Yes, and no. People can see me, but my powers don’t really work on them. My only job here is to get you better, and hopeful for love.” He explains to you once again and you blink, grabbing onto the glass of juice, taking a sip of it. You put it down and scanned him, squinting a little bit.

“I thought Cupids were like cherubs… You clearly don’t look angelic to me.” He laughed at that, giving you a nod. 

“That is true. I don’t look like a regular cupid. We all have our own personalities, and our own styles. We were human once, so it is something natural for us to be ourselves.” You were confused now, interest picking up as the shock of the situation was wearing off.

“You were human? You look human to me, present tense.” 

“A normal human cannot teleport and make things appear out of thin air darling. I look like one, but I am not one.” He explains to you and you tilted your head completely confused.

“And how did you become one?” He was about to answer you, but his head lifted up, almost alarmingly and he clapped at you to quicken your pace with your food. 

“I’ll tell you later. Eat fast!” You were looking all around as he paced around the room and you basically inhaled your eggs and bacon, chugging down your juice, almost choking as you saw Eddie pouring milk on Dorito’s plate.

“Okay, I almost died, but I am done, what happened?” You asked him and he stood up, looking at your attire and he sighed, shaking his head. 

“That won’t do, okay… So, he uses polo shirts, so maybe…” He tilted his head once and you felt a swoosh of air hit your body once, and you were completely confused as to what happened until you looked down at yourself, your eyes widening when you saw yourself wearing some leather pants and a white shirt on.

“What the–”

“Nope.” He tilted his head again, and you felt the air hit you again. You looked down to see a floral pink dress on you and you scrunched up your nose at it. “I know, it’s pink.” He gave a nod to it, and the dress turned navy blue.

“You can… change my clothes?” You asked him, completely bewildered and he nodded, letting a sigh out.

“Like I said, I am here to help you.” He walked towards you and you felt your breathing hitch as he pulled you hair down from the bun and he shook it a little bit. You pushed his hands away but then saw he was putting your hair over your shoulders in perfect waves. He then put his hands on your face and you stared up at him, feeling your breath quicken at his stare.

He was absolutely gorgeous. 

“Alright, makeup naturally done, hair done, clothes excellent. Good. He should arrive any second now, so I will hide in your room.” He pulled away from you and you blinked wildly, shaking your head in confusion.

“What? Who is coming–” Your doorbell rang and he whispered to you.

“Just be yourself, no tricks, no jokes, nothing. Be yourself!” He bolted out of the room, getting hold of Dorito, giving you a soldier salute before closing the door behind him. You were stunned into the ground and the doorbell rang once more, and you snapped out, rushing towards the door, slowly opening it to see the man before you.

Oh lord…

He didn’t turn around yet to look at you, but you could already see from his profile that he was so beautiful. Beauty marks on his features, brown hair neatly done on his head, brown eyes looking at the horizon while he waited for you to open the door, and… He was indeed wearing a polo shirt.

“Hi! I’m Steve, I moved–” He looked at you only to stop talking completely as he stared at you, gawk would be the exact word. You were looking up at him, waiting for him to continue but he started stuttering out of nowhere. “I– Shit, um– Like I said, I’m Steve.” He introduced himself again and you smiled at his playfulness, feeling a warm feeling in your chest.

“Hi Steve.” You presented yourself and you looked down to see he was holding a small bag of something. He took a deep breath in and gave the bag to you, which you grabbed with a confused frown in your face, but your smile never fell.

“I uh, those are cookies, I didn’t make them of course. I don’t know how to bake, or cook for that matter. I mean, I tried, you know, it’s not that I expect it to be done for me, but I just simply suck at culinary interests.” He was rambling, completely nervous in your presence. He didn’t think a beautiful girl would live in his building, and now he was thankful for Robin who helped him pick this place.

“I mean, if you know how to cook sausages and some eggs, then you’re good to go.” You reply to him, trying to lighten the situation and you succeed, as he chuckles, showing you off his charming smile and you could almost feel yourself melt at the sight.

“I’m more of a pasta guy. I’m a pro at that.” He replies to you and you giggle at his response with a nod.

“Well, if I ever smell burning, I know who to save first.” He put a hand over his chest as if he got wounded by your words and he winced as if in pain.

“We just met and you are already killing me off? That’s brutal.” 

“I said I’d save you.” You giggled again and he bit his bottom lip, nodding.

“At least there’s one good person in this building. I said hello to the lady in the first floor, department B, and she almost sent her cat to chase me off.” He said to you with a frown and you nodded at that with a roll of the eyes.

“Mrs. O’Donnell. Crazy bitch, don’t ever cross paths with her. When you are doing your laundry, or even taking out the trash. You see her, turn around and come back later.” You advise him, remembering how you tried to start a conversation with her in the laundry room and she kept eyeing your clothes to tell you that you were a sinner.

“Okay, keep that noted.” He licked his lips and you felt yourself blushing slightly at the change of air around you two as he took a step closer to you. “Should I keep my distance with you too?”

You gave out a little snort and you felt like a high school student again as he flirted with you, looking down at the floor, swaying a little. 

“I’m a good neighbor.” You reply, looking up at him and you notice the slight glint in his eyes as you let him go on with his flirting, not pushing him away and not making any excuses. He pulled out his cellphone, almost dropping it because of his nervousness but he tried to play it cool for you as he opened his contact list.

“Since you are the only friendly neighbor I met, is it too crazy to ask for your number?” He licked his bottom lip and you raised an eyebrow up, smirking at his sly way of asking for your number.

“You don’t have to do the whole neighbor charade to ask for my number, you know?” You tell him, seeing him blush slightly. God, he is cute. But to your surprise, he continued with his playfulness, grinning at you.

“Oh, you want to give it to me for some other purpose?” Your eyes widened, catching you off guard, and he laughed at your reaction instantly, making your cheeks get a tint of pink in them as butterflies swam in your belly.

“Now for that teasing, I will not give you my number.” You threatened him and his eyes widened, shaking his head but his smile was still on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I would love to have your number.” He sincerely replies now, handing you his phone and you bite the inside of your cheek to forbid yourself from smiling even further as you type in your contact number in his phone. You handed it back to him and he smiled down at it and then looked up at you. “If you smell smoke, it’s probably me making toast.” 

You shook your head with a giggle and said goodbye to him, looking at his retreating back as he glanced back at you one more time, making you jump in embarrassment as he caught you red handed spying on him. You immediately closed the door of your apartment, the smile not disappearing on your face.

A cute boy. A very handsome boy, and a gentleman at that. 

You sighed happily and turned around, only to scream at the sight of Eddie with an excited look on his face, holding Dorito by his armpits, jumping up and down slightly, making the cat meow in annoyance.

“You gotta stop screaming every time you see me sweets.” He said while putting Dorito down on the floor, and looking at you. “So? Did you like him? I can sense you do, but I want to be completely sure.” You shook your head but a smile crept on your lips and you hid your face in your hands bashfully, making Eddie jump in excitement. “Hell yeah baby! That’s what I am talking about!”

“Now I get it when you said to me you will make me meet people just by coincidence.” He nodded at your words and sat down on the couch, Dorito following his step and laying down next to him. 

“Exactly! I knew he was coming over today, and I can also see a little bit of the other person before meeting you, letting me know that he is indeed worth meeting.” He explains to you as starts petting your cat, making him yawn loudly. You walked towards the couch and sat on it, leaving Dorito in between you and Eddie.

“So, can you tell me about him?”

“Nuh uh. I know about him, but won’t tell you. You have to meet him yourself. What I can tell you though, is that he is not a psychopath, nor is he into freaky shit or something. I wouldn’t risk your life like that.” Your heart skipped a bit at his words, feeling a sense of protection from him. You cleared your throat and looked out the window.

“So, you’re like my guardian angel now?” He chuckled at that, and shrugged.

“Different job, but for now, it kinda seems like it.”

Steve messaged you the day after.

And the day after that.

And the next day he invited you for some coffee at the cafe next to your building.

The days blended together, and you found Eddie’s company in your apartment quite warming. It was nice to come home and see him watching a movie or hear him sing in the shower. You put out your couch as his bed, which he told you was not necessary since he could come and go wherever he pleased, but you insisted nonetheless. 

You both sometimes cooked together, and sometimes he would make food appear when he didn’t feel like moving an inch. You wondered if his powers made him tired in some way. He was very reserved with who he was, and what he could do, but other times, like today, sharing a glass of wine, he would let go a little bit.

“So, you told me you were human before.” You say as you both sat on the couch, facing one another with Dorito in the middle with his belly up for scratches which Eddie was dutifully doing.

“That’s right.” 

“Does that mean you are dead?” You ask him and he chuckles, taking a sip of his glass of wine, shaking his head.

“No. I am not, but I am immortal, and for some reason I don’t bleed.” You nodded in understanding, but still slightly confused,  and took a sip of your own drink before talking again.

“Alright, but did you die to be able to turn into cupid?” He frowned at that, looking down at your cat, letting out a big sigh. You felt the air in the room shift into something more melancholic, as if sadness sipped through the walls.

“No, not exactly. The only way to become a cupid is if you chose to be. You can die from a broken heart, or continue on as a helper.” He explains to you and you feel your heart sink in your chest as well as anxious nerves writhe in your stomach. 

“Does that… mean you were heartbroken?” He wasn’t looking at you, just swirling his glass with the liquid inside. He looked distant, as if the memory was causing him pain.

“I was. But a broken heart can come from various places. From a lover, from a friend, from family… I just received too many blows in my life, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He says while taking a sip out of his glass, a very long one. You wondered how many ended up like him, disheartened, broken, to the point of not wanting to keep going any longer. 

“Did a lover do that to you?” You ask him, curiosity very present in your eyes as you looked at him and he gazed up to lock eyes with yours. He shook his head and your features grew sad for him. “I know you said you couldn’t know who is ‘The One’, but does it even exist?” You ask him now and he straightens up in his seat and gives you a nod. 

“Yes. The One exists. Your destined person. They do, but there is… something about that.” He says with a pained frown while looking at you. “They can be alive at any point. They could be alive right now, same timeline as you, or, they could have already died, or never been born yet.” 

Your eyes widened at that. So, the game of life and destiny was just some cruel joke. It was as if someone was just playing dice over your heads and deciding if you would suffer or meet your other half. If you were going to live happily ever after, or drown yourself in misery and loneliness. 

“Did you have one?” 

“No. When I became cupid, I only got one piece of information, and it was that they weren’t born yet.” You nodded at that, taking a sip of your wine and scooted even closer to him.

“So, right now you don’t know who they are at all?” 

“I don’t know if they were even born. Once you become cupid your own love life is unknown to you.” He chuckles sadly, grabbing the bottle of wine off the table and pouring himself some more. You lean your glass towards him and he pours you some as well, muttering a soft ‘thank you’ to him.

“When did you…?” You stutter a little at your question, not really knowing how to keep going with it, but a knock on your door makes you jump up slightly, and you look at Eddie alarmingly. He simply chuckles and looks at you, his hand reaching up to your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds.

Your breathing hitched slightly as you looked into his eyes and he looked back into yours. The alcohol was mixing with the butterflies in your stomach as you felt his warmth invade your skin, your air, and you just wanted to keep looking at him. You wanted to hold him, tell him everything is going to be okay, that he was an amazing man, even after what he went through.

And you just felt a little helpless around him.

He gulped and pulled away from your face, giving you a dimpled smirk.

“Put a little blush on those cheeks. Go open the door for him.” He got up from the couch and held onto his glass of wine, walking into your room. You didn’t know if he was in there or actually leaves whenever Steve knocks or comes to say something to you. You got up from the couch, putting the glass on your coffee table and walked towards the door, pulling the door open to reveal Steve in a suit. 

“Hi there.” He says with a smile and you feel yourself becoming warm at his greeting. He is such a cute man. 

“Hi Steve, or should I say Mr. Harrington?” You say with an eyebrow raised up in question, combined with your smile as you eyed up his suit. He laughed and gave you a nod.

“Yeah, I know, you’re mesmerized.” You roll your eyes at his words and you giggle, feeling this interaction lifting the heavy mood from earlier on that you had with Eddie. “I actually got off work early, and it got me thinking… uhm.” 

You bite your bottom lip, giggles completely halting as you wait for his words. Was it going to happen? Was he going to ask you out? Finally? 

‘He is.’

Your eyes slightly widened at the voice, making you look behind your back to see if Eddie was next to you, or behind you, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

‘I can talk to you in your mind sweetheart. Part of my job is to make sure you don’t mess up while talking.’

You wanted to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t when Steve was being a mumbling mess in front of you. He might think you’re making fun of him or something and you certainly weren’t doing that.

‘Urge him.’

“Steve…” You called him out, giving him a small smile of encouragement and he took a deep breath in, stopping with his rambling and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I just haven't asked a girl out in a while so…” He said with a slight blush on his cheeks and you raised an eyebrow up at him.

“You were going to ask me out?” You say, almost a whisper as you looked up at him and it seems he got all the courage he needed as you stared at him, waiting for him to keep going.

“Yeah. I got off early today and honestly… The first thing I thought of was that I wanted to see you.” Oh, that certainly made you blush, and he wasn’t far behind that, but despite his nervousness and his cheesiness, he kept going. “So maybe, I can pick you up at 6 PM on friday? We can head down to the bar a few blocks from here.” 

‘You don’t even need me to tell you what to say right now.’

You cursed at Eddie inside your head because he was distracting you. ‘Shut up!’ You yelled at him, not really knowing if it works the other way around, until you hear a soft chuckle vibrate in the depths of your mind, and you knew he had gotten your message.

“Friday at 6… It’s a date, Stevie.” You comment with a smile, and the guy before you was almost bursting with happiness as his eyes sparkled at your approval. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt your heart beat loudly into your ears as he nodded at you.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” You watched as he walked down the hallway, stealing a few glances over his shoulder and towards you. You waved at him one last time until he was out of sight and you entered the house, slamming the door shut with a big smile on your face. Eddie was already out of your room, smiling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eddie, oh my god!” You squealed excitedly as you rushed towards your phone to raise the music up from the speakers. ‘I Wanna dance with somebody’ by Whitney Houston was blasting and you couldn’t help but want to dance out of happiness right now. You were going on a date with a cute guy on friday! A guy who doesn’t look like he just wants to get in your pants! A guy that is genuinely interested in you and is willing to make conversation and get to know you!

“The 80’s? Really?” Eddie asks with a cock of his head, his eyebrow raised up. You just rushed over to him and grabbed his hands, twirling both of you around, catching him completely by surprise as he stumbled while you moved him. “You know this kind of music is not my scene? Thought my clothes were pretty obvious, sweetheart.”

You felt your stomach twirl at the nickname, but you kept the smile on your face and then started pulling his arms back and forth, making him sway in his place. A smile was creeping in his face as he looked down at you and he instantly twirled you in place, making you giggle and then he pulled you to his body, his hand on the small of your back and his right hand holding your left.

He started singing along as he started moving around in an exaggerated manner, making you laugh and helping him sing along. You were happy, content in this moment right here. You felt his sweet scent invading you, as you saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he sang along in high pitch and then low in order to make you laugh.

“Now that’s a singer right there.” You say with a smile and he chuckled, looking down at you.

“I was in a band actually. Played guitar too.” He says to you and you caught the sad smile that painted in his features. You raised your hand up, pulling a curl of his behind his ear, slowly and gently, and you felt a wave of lightning course through you, as if you had touched a naked copper cable. 

He was staring down at you, his eyes locked in yours as you inspected him, touched him. He was about to pull away out of nervousness, and because he was starting to feel tense at the situation. A situation that never happened to him before. He never had this much interaction with his human, he just helped them and–

“Is the 80’s your time?” You asked him, taking him aback completely. You both fell into a small sway, going side to side as his hands rested on your hips, barely touching you, while your hands rested on his chest, staring up at his features.

“How did you know?”

“You know a lot about the music of that time. I caught you singing some songs before while cooking, or showering and they’re all from the 80’s.” He gave you a small smile and then a nod.

“1989 was the year I decided to become a Cupid. I was 23 years old.” So he is, technically, younger than you. But if you had to count the years he kept his youth, he is much older.

“What happened to you?” You brushed your hand over his chest, just where his heart is, and you could feel the beating of it, and you could almost hear it from how hard it was strumming against his chest.

“I got cheated on by the only girlfriend I ever had… Slipped up and lost my band too and then, I– I lost the only person who ever cared for me. My uncle. Died from a heart attack.” You looked up at him, feeling your eyes burn with incoming tears and he gave you a sad confused smile. “I’m telling you my story, and you’re the one crying?”

“Yes, I mean, it’s you, and you were in pain, so much that you–” You stopped talking. When he mentioned to you that you could die from a heartbreak, you wondered if he meant it literally, or if he meant that the pain was too strong that he considered ending it all for himself. He put his index finger under your chin to raise your head up in order to look at him.

“Hey, I’m okay.” You couldn’t help the sadness that ran over you, like a wave that just drowned all of the happiness you were feeling seconds ago.

“But, what about your friends? You didn’t have any?” You asked him and he winced slightly, giving you a small nod.

“I did tell you I was in a band.” His grip tightened around you, and you realized you both had stopped moving with one another. “Once one becomes a Cupid, it’s as if you never existed. Everyone forgets about you and the memories they shared with you.”

You couldn’t help but stare up at him. He was in constant loneliness, despite being a helper of love. He was all alone, moving around the world by himself, doing all of this for the benefit of others. You shook your head at him, giving him a small smile to take away the tension that was on your shoulders.

“Well, I am your friend now! We can go have fun together, and we can even get you a new guitar!” You say, jumping slightly with excitement but he was not copying you, his eyes staring at you, but not really. He was distant, as if his mind had gone somewhere else. He bit his bottom lip, and let out a sigh.

“Darling… You will forget about me.” You frowned and shook your head at him.

“There’s no way! You’ve helped me so much, and Dorito can hardly live without you now–”

“Once you fall in love, my job is done, and you won’t ever be able to see me again.” 

You stood still. Frozen. Your heart stops completely at his words.

You’ll forget about him? Eddie will be gone once all of this is over? He will disappear once you fall for someone else? Does Eddie think you are being a bother and that’s why he is insistent on Steve? Did he not want to spend time with you anymore?

“That’s– That’s not fair, it should be my decision if I want to remember you or not!” You pulled away from him, a tear threatening to run down your cheek. He was standing still, inspecting you with a sad look on his face. He was dreading the moment he would have to tell you this, because he was afraid you would not continue pursuing Steve just to be able to keep being friends with him.

He appreciated it. He’d grown fond of you, and even took notes of all your quirks and little movements. How you bit your nails when you were concentrating on a movie. How you hummed a tune every time you watered your plants. How you wanted the magnets on your fridge to be color distributed. And he adores the fact that you love strawberries to the point of getting sick with them.

“It’s not our decision. It’s destiny. I am just a helper in your life, and not a human.” Your eyes widened at that, and a smile creeped on your lips, walking towards him again, grabbing his hand.

“Then turn human! I can help you get a job! You can move in with me, and we can go to a bigger apartment, and–” You didn’t want him to leave you. Not when he has helped you so much. For the past two weeks, he had helped you build up your confidence in ways you didn’t know you could feel. He had helped you through your nights, crying after going to work to a place where your boss was mentioning how happy she was with her fiance. He had held you, rocked you, sang to you in order for you to calm down.

Eddie was more than happy to help you. That’s his job. He liked, as horrible as it sounds, holding you while you poured your heart out onto his chest, crying as if there was no tomorrow, because then he would make you laugh and it was all thanks to him. He would make you smile, and it would be directed to him. 

But the reality of things are way worse than a smile.

“I can’t turn human.” Your smile fell instantly at his words, and you gulped tightly. There was no way… You can’t digest the fact that, if everything went right with Steve, you would forget about Eddie. Then he would end up alone again, and you wouldn’t even know. You would be oblivious to that. He looked at your face and then sighed. “The only way for me to become human again, is to mend my broken heart.”

“Mend…?” He nodded at you and he grabbed your hand, pressing it into his chest.

“I have to love, and be loved in return. Seal the bond with a kiss, and I… I would become mortal again.” 

The tear finally slipped from your eye. You felt hopeless for him, a sadness you’ve never felt in your life. Your sister’s passing was something you could see a mile away when she was diagnosed with Leukemia. Your father, you knew he was cheating on your mother since the first day you hit puberty, so you weren’t surprised when they got divorced and he remarried.

This sadness was unexpected, and was washing over you as if it were the only emotion you could feel at the moment. 

Eddie’s arms engulfed you, pushing you close to his chest. How is that heart that was beating loudly against his chest broken?  How could they hurt someone like him? Why can’t anyone fix it? Why does he have to leave?

“Hey… The good part of this is that Steve looks like an amazing guy… And–” He pulled away, wiggling his eyebrows at you, wiping your tears away. “I did a little bit of research on past encounters, and all girls have really nice things to say.” You sobbed a little as you tried to talk.

“About what?” He wiggled his eyebrows again and that’s when you caught on, gasping and slapping his bicep with a noise of disgust coming out of your throat. He laughed at your reaction, causing you to giggle through your tears. 

Cupid is a dork.

“Well, I had a great time.” You finally say as you reach your door, Steve right behind you. You had an amazing evening with him. He picked you up at exactly 6 PM, and you both headed down to the bar he mentioned before. The conversation was fluid, as if you two had known each other for a long while, but also, the flirting was there, but not too explicit because well… Someone was a little distracting through the evening, even now.

‘This is the part where you invite him in, and you blow him on the couch.’

‘Eddie, jesus, shut the fuck up.’

“Me too. And how convenient it is that we live so close to each other.” Steve says with a smile as he leaned on the doorframe of your front door when you finally opened it and stepped inside, looking back up at him. 

“That is definitely a plus.” You say while biting your bottom lip, staring up at him. You were anticipating a move of course. You wanted it to happen. 

‘He is not going to do it.’

‘Shit, should I?’

A moment of silence was in your mind and then you heard Eddie’s voice again.

‘Maybe it is too soon.’

Huh? That was definitely not the answer you expected him to say. You thought he was going to make you kiss Steve, which you really wanted to. Steve was blushing as he spoke to you about wanting to go on another date again and you really wondered if Eddie was right on it.

‘Are you sure Eds? I mean, he really looks like he wants to, but is too shy to do so.’

‘I said it is too soon.’

You frowned slightly at the change of tone in his voice. It sounded too demanding, as if he were angry with you. Your jaw clenched, and you muted your head, just everything. You tiptoed towards Steve, and planted a soft kiss on his lips in response to his rambling about a second date.

His lips were plump, expectant. He was stunned for a whole second and then you felt him kiss back, his hands and arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, feeling your chest warm at the feeling of someone’s lips on yours as well as an anxious feeling that wasn’t sitting quite right at the pit of your stomach.

What it was, you didn’t know.

He pulled away after a few seconds with a blissed look on his face, his eyes completely blown from the kiss, and he smiled downwards at you.

“Well, that answers my question on the second date then.” You giggled at that, your arms still wrapped around his neck. 

“Maybe we can have some dinner at your place next time?” You flirted with him, voice low and he whistled, calling out your name with a smirk to his face, knowing what you were meaning.

“It’s a date then. Next wednesday?” You bit your lip and nodded at him. He bent down and kissed you softly on the lips again, pulling away only seconds after and then pulling completely off you. “Can’t wait…” He kissed your cheek and he skipped down the hallway, making a fool out of himself just for you to laugh at. You shook your head and closed the door to your apartment, turning around for your smile to only drop.

Eddie was with arms crossed over his chest, almost glaring at you. You’ve never seen him mad before, so this was a new sight for you.

“Did I speak in chinese?” He asks you and you just roll your eyes at him, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. “Why did you go against what I said?”

“Because it was bad advice! I kissed him, because he clearly wanted to, and I got myself a second date!” You exclaimed at him, your own anger filling your body as you poured some water into your glass. He was pacing behind you, glaring daggers in your back.

“How can my advice be bad?! I am your Cupid! If I say something it’s because there’s a valid reason for it!”

“And what was the reason to not kiss him tonight?” You turned around to face him and he wasn’t looking at you. He was just looking to the side, at nothing in particular but with the purpose of not clashing with your gaze. “Or what was the reason for distracting me all night?!”

“You were too interested. Guys get bored when girls are easy, just throwing themselves at them.” Your anger was exploding now. What did he just call you?

“Did you just call me easy? Is that what you think I am?!” You couldn’t help how tight your chest was feeling at the moment. You wanted to throw something at him, yell at him, make Dorito scratch his perfect face. His eyes widened and then he slapped his hands over his face, as if he had just realized something.

“Shit, no, that’s not what I meant–”

“Then what did you fucking mean Edward?” You stuck your hip out, looking at him with an angered look in your face and he shook his head at you. 

“Don’t twist this on me! You kissed him when I told you not to! You have to follow what I say to you, or this thing with Steve won't happen!” Your nerves were making your body shake, feeling your eyes burning from the incoming tears that were for sure about to spill. Your body was ablaze, and the knot in the stomach you felt before worsened. Your heart was beating in your chest, almost as if you were having a heart attack. 

And your mind was going places, words and thoughts swimming in your brain, just so fast, that you didn’t have the chance of thinking before talking.

“Are you that desperate to leave me!?” You yelled out as tears started running down your cheeks, not able to contain your emotions any longer. “Are you that bothered about helping me?! Do I annoy you?! Am I that detestable to you that you want me to forget about you?!” 

The self deprecating words kept coming out of your mouth like bullets to him. One by one, hitting him in the chest. He made you cry. The tears that were falling down your cheeks were because of him. He felt his throat closing up as he stared at you, taking a step towards you. 

He stared at your sobbing face, as you tried to wipe away your tears and your nose. Even now, even with the stained face, he found you beautiful… And that thought scared him. 

He raised his hand up, caressing your cheek, gently, and slowly. You sniffled, looking up at him, and your knees almost got weak at the sight. He was staring at you with eyes you’ve never felt before. An adoration that you only saw in movies, and described in many books you’ve read before. 

You instinctively took another step, your body an inch away from his. Your heart started picking up the pace, rapidly, listening to the blood rush through your ears, and your mouth went dry as you looked at him. The world stopped, time itself, even sounds around you became silent. 

You wanted to. You needed to. You had to.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he was still in a state of trance, not pulling away from your embrace, but his arms moved by their own accord, wrapping themselves around your waist. 

You want him.

You raised yourself up, tippy toeing, slowly in order not to scare him away. You knew these feelings might be inside you, but you needed to make sure. You wanted to make sure. You wanted it to be true.

You need him.

Your chest went flush against his as you started to reach your goal, your breath picking up as the thoughts in your brain ceased to exist. The only thing that was there, the only one was Eddie.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

Tight hands grabbed onto your shoulders, and ripped you apart from the body you were stealing warmth from. Your back hit the fridge behind you, making you wince slightly. Your breath was heavy and when you looked up your eyes widened when you saw Eddie’s face. He was panting, as if he were in pain. His pupils were dilated as he looked at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And you heard the crack. You could even hear it. A small crack in your heart as he says those words, as if repulsed by the idea of being kissed by you, a mere human. You licked your lips and shook your head, gulping loudly as he pulled away from you, stepping away.

“I’m– I’m sorry– I just wanted–”

“You’re confused.” He says to you and you feel like he was clawing at your chest with those words, making you shake your head at him.

“What? No! I–”

“We need space. I have to give you space so you can focus on Steve.” 

You felt your throat close at those words, your eyes widening as you saw him retreat to your room. Space? Confused? Your brain was running a mile per minute and your legs finally moved, rushing towards your room right after him.

Only to find Dorito meowing with sadness as it looked all over your room. 

You looked all around, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest as you rushed towards your closet to look inside. You then walked back out to the living room and kitchen area, finding it empty too. You slammed open your bathroom, feeling your tears coming down even more and more. 

You kicked your door in anger and finally sobbed out as you rested against the doorframe of your doorway. You slid down on it, falling onto the floor as you cried into your hands. 

He left. He left you.

There were no more movie nights. No more music sharing. No more brainstorming for outfit or date ideas. No more cooking for two. Who is going to fill Dorito’s plate in the morning when you are asleep? Who is going to wait for you at home, apart from your cat, after a long day of work? Who is going to tell you so many stupid stories about his teenage years now?

Steve?

No, you didn’t want it to be Steve. You didn’t want that part of your life to be done by Steve. It felt wrong, and you were just now feeling it. You were just now realizing how wrong it feels to put Steve where Eddie was. 

You fell for Cupid. You stupidly fell for your own cupid. And it was obvious that the feeling was not mutual. It was obvious that he did not want anything to do with you. It was obvious that you would have to keep moving on in order to fill the empty space he left. Would he appear again? Or will you be able to fall in love with Steve?

How can you possibly forget about Eddie?

Two months later.

You were tired. Exhausted really as you walked up the stairs of your apartment. 

Your eyes were bloodshot red, but it was something that was going to happen, because you knew it wasn’t going anywhere really. Your day at work had also been quite stressful, but the ache you expected to get when you got your boss’s wedding invitation, never arrived. You were actually excited for it, knowing there will be food and free drinks.

You opened the door of your apartment, turning the lights on as you took your coat off, closing the door and throwing the garment onto the couch. You walked towards the pantry, getting hold of your bottle of wine, and getting your corkscrew device out to open it. With a loud ‘pop’ you smiled slightly at the relief this will bring you, pouring a glass for yourself. You took a long sip, turning around to face your living room.

“Dorito?” You called your fat orange cat, but heard no meows. You walked towards the front of the couch and didn’t see him there. He must be in your room. You sat down on your couch, turning the tv on, and you groaned loudly when you saw Titanic on screen. You clenched your jaw and decided to keep it on, taking a sip of your glass again. 

You felt a shiver run down your spine but paid no mind to it, cracking your neck slightly at the chill. 

“Why did you do that?” 

You sat still, your blood freezing over at the voice you haven’t heard for over two months. The voice you wished to hear again and didn’t think you’d ever would. 

“Why did you break up with him?”

You were shaking, putting the glass on the coffee table before slowly getting up. Your stomach was in shambles, and your heart was with an energy you haven’t felt in a long while. Ever since he left, you felt hollow, as if you didn’t have the energy to keep pretending, to keep trying.

Steve had been nothing but sweet to you the past two months. Intimately and publicly, he was the most caring person you’ve ever been with… But he wasn’t Eddie. You tried, you really tried, but you knew the love you could possibly feel would be empty, almost numb. So before you could hurt Steve, you decided to call everything off, with nothing but being honest with him.

He sadly understood, and was grateful for you to be honest with him and not wait till he was completely devoted to you to break his heart.

You turned around to face him, and he was just standing there, with a pained frown in his eyebrows and your breath caught in your throat. He was wide eyed, staring at you, his hands shaking as his whole body ached, for what, he did know, yet he wasn’t going to act on it.

“I– Uh… I’m Eddie, you probably–”

“I never forgot about you Eddie.”

And he was stunned. He gave you the time, he gave you the space, he left you. He went onto helping someone else to keep himself distracted, not wanting to see something he would regret with you. He gave you privacy, to you and Steve. So how? How is it possible that someone as perfect as him, didn’t get your love?

“What?”

“I said… I never forgot about you.” 

The only thing separating you at this moment, was the couch between you two. You could hear his heart and he could hear yours. You gulped loudly, walking around the couch to finally stand in front of him. You wanted to reach out, grab him, hug him tightly against you, tell him so many things, but first, one question remains, so you pushed through the knot in your throat, and spoke through the tears that were already slipping out of your eyes.

“Why did you leave me?”

His breath hitched, feeling a sting of guilt at the pit of his stomach, as well as feeling his heart clenching and unclenching inside of his chest, wanting to explode. His bottom lip quivered slightly and he sniffled, looking away from you.

“I– I had to. I had to leave because I…” He didn’t want to say it. All his life, he ran away from this feeling, scared of it. He was terrified of ending up as a cupid again, or deciding to finally put an end to it all. But he knew that this time, there was no running from it. Not anymore. 

“Eddie–”

“Remember what I told you about ‘The One’?” You gulped and slowly nodded your head at him. He licked his lips in order to continue. “I explained to you that The One for each person really does exist. I also explained to you, that this person might be in your present timeline, might have already passed away, or they haven’t been born yet.”

Your throat was dry, feeling your whole body shaking with electricity and anticipation as he slowly looked up at you, his brown doe eyes locking with yours and you felt a sigh escape your lips.

“And here you are… Born in 1998.” 

You processed his words, and they felt like cold water being dumped on you, but at the same time they felt like a great relief, like a warm blanket covering you. Eddie was telling you that you were The One for him. Your cupid was confessing that he believes you are The One.

“Y-You…” He stopped you again, stepping away from you. You didn’t realize that you were taking steps towards him, as if you were a magnet, not really being able to control your movements.

“I am not… It would be from the beginning with me… I don’t have a job, no family, no friends, nothing… I don’t want to be a leech, but… Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can stay away from you much longer.” He lets out a shaky breath as he feels the weight on his shoulders finally leave him. He was waiting for your rejection, for you to push him away, tell him he is insane for this. But when he looked up, he saw those eyes he looked at you with months ago. His own widened as he realized you had looked at him like this that night, and the night before when talking about The Lord of the Rings. And many mornings before that as well.

“Then don’t…” At your words, Eddie took a step towards you as you took one towards him. Standing face to face, bodies only a few inches from one another’s, only your heavy breaths filling the room, you licked your lips to be able to talk to him again. “So… You say I am The One for you… Does it mean you are The One for me?”

And Eddie looked down at you, his mind finally stopping and setting its goal on one thought only. You. You. You. Your scent, your eyes, your tics, your anger, your smiles, your voice, your sleepy face, your laughter, your cries. 

Just you.

“Let’s find out darling… Kiss me.”

Your heart leaped at those words, wrapping your arms around his neck, almost instantly, as his hands took the position they did last time he was at your home, around your waist. Your breath was fast, as the universe stopped and not just for you. Eddie was feeling the exact same thing in your arms. You both were the only ones in the whole world right now, the only ones wasting the oxygen away. 

His hands tightened around your waist, as your breaths mixed together as he leaned down to help you meet him halfway. You closed your eyes, and he did as well, as your lips finally touched, melting together as if it had always been meant to be. 

He groaned into the kiss, feeling like a firework just exploded inside of him, an intense heat engulfing his whole body, making him grip you even closer to his body and you sighed in contentment as fresh tears filled your eyes behind your eyelids. Happiness was consuming you and you will happily succumb to it. Your lips moved together as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, trying to push your body into him, more, and more. You just wanted to feel him, all of him, because he was here.

He heard you moan in happiness against his lips and he almost fainted right then and there at the sound, but another feeling was taking over his mind. The voices in his head stopped. The insistent noise that told him to help, and help, and do something for someone else stopped. He pulled away from you, and you immediately looked for him, but he kept the distance with his head.

He was breathing heavily as he took a step back from you, unwrapping his arms from your body. You were still shaking at the event, wanting to go after him but he rushed towards the kitchen and opened one of your drawers. You were staring at his back as you saw him jump and something dropping on the counter. He turned around to face you and stomped towards you with a look on his face that was puzzling you and making you feel uneasy.

“What do you feel about me?” He asked you and your breath got stuck in your throat again, feeling embarrassed and fearful for what the words that want to come out of your mouth will inquire, but there was no stopping this, no more running away from it.

“I’m in love with you Eddie…” He stared down at you for a few seconds, a smile breaking on his lips as he lifted his hand for you to look at it. Your eyes widened when there, in the tip of his left index finger, you could see the small speck of blood, slowly dripping down the digit. 

‘I don’t bleed.’ You remembered his words and then your eyes teared up as you also realized the condition it took for him to become human again.

“To love… and be loved in return.” You say those words making him smile widely, his right hand reaching for your cheek to wipe your tears away with his thumb as a gentle sob escaped your lips. He called your name for you to look at him and even in the blurriness of it all, you could still see those brown doe eyes, shining with fresh tears as he spoke to you.

“I’m in love with you darling.” He called out and you almost choked on a sob as you held onto his face, squishing his cheeks to pull him into another kiss. A shock of electricity ran through your body and you knew this was right. You somehow felt this is what it was always meant to be. This is what your heartbreaks led you to, your suffering, your tears. Everything led to this perfect moment and to all the moments to come with him.

“Mreow.”

You both pulled away from the kiss to look down at the fat orange cat that had an unamused look on his face. Eddie chuckled and tilted his head, but nothing happened. He groaned loudly and rushed to fill Dorito’s plate by hand, making you giggle in amusement. 

“That’s going to take some time getting used to.” He comments as he straightens up again, putting the bag of food back inside a cabinet. Once Dorito rushed to his food, Eddie immediately swept you off your feet in bridal style, making you squeal in surprise, holding onto his neck. He chuckled loudly as he walked towards your bedroom, making you blush in anticipation.

“Now where are you taking me Cupid?”

“Heaven.” He said with a smile and you giggled while he slammed the door to your room shut.

Cupid isn’t so bad after all.

End of One Shot

I really loved writing this. If you liked the story, all likes and Reblogs as well as comments warm my little heart!

Hope I can return to this couple some time in the future!