#it's genuinely hard for me to not talk about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pushingdaisies1 · 1 day ago

Note

ok so i'm new to your blog so i'm not 100% sure how you usually do requests but I would kill for a fic where the reader gets an injury (not life threatening) patched up by another character. Dae-ho came to my mind first tbh but you could literally do whoever. i'm not sure if you do multiple characters in one post or not so take this request however you like!

"Dont look at me with those eyes" . . . ♡

. ⟣ㅤㅤ˳ㅤㅤ︵︵ㅤ ୨ ୧ ㅤ︵︵ㅤㅤˑㅤㅤ⟢ ,

-> PAIRING: Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388) x Reader! -> SUMMARY: Falling into these games was like a hard-hitting reminder of your status on the food chain. Always the one to sell yourself out and break yourself completely to help loved ones make it up to the top. You were the lowest of the low, a runt. A runt with a big and burning heart. But meeting Dae-ho was like a soft blanket being wrapped around you. In your first interaction alone, even though you were playing with your lives, he was like a beacon of strangely placed hope. Soon becoming acquainted with the "quickly assembled" team Mr. Player 456 (Seong Gihun) had formed, you had found quick allies with the group of men and Jun-hee. After the third game, you had taken a pretty bad blow to your leg from another scattering player. Dae-ho notices, and knows that he can't let a partner limp back without lending a helping hand. That made you like him so much, he was a helpful, hopeful fool. It made your teeth grind against other teeth as you watched him care for you so carefully. You were almost like glass in his hands. -> WARNINGS: Descriptions of violence (mingle was brutal), Not entirely proof read.., Descriptions and talks of injured/dislocated ankle, I use y/n like once LOL, I kinda fudged the "rules" of the second game don't mind that heh, I don't know how to treat wounds so it WILL be incorrect!, angst(?), Dae-ho being a cutie patootie!! -> AUTHORS NOTE: Aghhh first ever request, I love this idea, and tysm for sending one in! Dae-ho became a quick favorite of mine, especially after the fourth episode. He's so sweet and the most gentle character in the show. I love his vulnerability and warmth as an ex-marine and clear victim of toxic masculinity in his life. He's genuinely a top favorite of mine. I do apologize if this is a tad bit too long for anybody's tastes. I had a lot of fun with this request as you can see heh. I'll be using him (Dae-ho) for this one, but yes for reference next time ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗I don't mind doing multiple characters in one request <3!! Don’t be afraid to send in other characters , enjoy.. ^_^

. ─── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─────── ୨ৎ ─── ' . The fact that you had survived past the first and second games was shocking. You hadn't expected to see players littered down with bullets when playing a game calling back to your younger days. One by one it was like watching chickens be plucked from the coop. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you tried your hardest to stay as still as possible. Thank the heavens you didn't end up in front of the so-called "rap legend" who was pushing people left and right. In your held-back panic, you had found a point of focus. A specific player amongst the herd had more so shouted for people to stand behind others taller than them.

Stay crouched down behind the back of another and the doll shouldn't recognise your movement. As hurried steps padded against the sandy ground, you found yourself lined up behind a taller man. His hair was pulled up halfway, with a tiny ponytail atop his head. If you weren't in a life-or-death scenario you would've had a nice quick chuckle about it. His stature was easy to hide behind in the hurried chaos. As others were being shot down among the organized crowd, your feet had almost lost footing. Your stance had faltered after someone directly behind you had gotten shot by one of the sniper perks. You felt your legs begin to tremble as your back was littered with the victim's blood.

You were so close to ruining this somewhat assorted line when you felt a hand clasp your wrist. Shockingly you didn't jerk out of line, it was in actuality a steadying grip. In quick succession, he'd murmur to you, a stranger behind him. "I got you, just keep l-looking ahead." Even though his voice was trembling he still sounded like a courageous hero to you. So quickly you were able to steady your legs, and before you could hesitate anymore it was time to move. Reaching across the finish line was like a breath of fresh air. Pretty much getting all the air knocked back into your lungs. You couldn't have fallen harder against the ground after you had thrown yourself over. Locking eyes with the young man that was standing beside you. He was almost cracking a carefree smile as he soon realized that he'd too made it out alive.

Seeing you on the ground he immediately offered you a hand. If this was all in a different context, you would've been feeling more butterflies in your chest than you already had. But you had almost died just a couple seconds ago. You were grateful for his steady hands, so you hopped at the opportunity to have him pull you up on your feet.

In hindsight, you probably looked like a nut job as specks of sand littered the jacket you and every other player adorned. His grip was firm as he excitedly shook your hand. "You were a tough one out there! I'm glad to see you make it." He said with a beaming smile. The announcements drowned out your thoughts as players' numbers were being called out with their eliminations.

Your eyes were a lot more shaky as you nodded your head in response and recognition. "It's in all thanks to you. You practically saved my life. I am forever in your debt.." Words trailing off as you didn't know his name, at all. He probably had the name of an action hero or a true trailblazer. Was luck finally on your side? Did you make a friend in this horrifying ordeal?

Everything was buzzing all around between the two of you. The doll Chul-su repeating the same two phrases over and over again. As your surroundings became pure noise, you found comfort in focusing on his face and its features. His grip on your hand with firm, giving you one final good squeeze as your hands fell to your own respective sides. "Kang, Kang Dae-ho." He had this almost palpable warmth. It made you feel all mushy on the inside for unknown reasons. You'd let out a sigh of almost relief as your lip quivered. "Thank you for saving my life, Kang Dae-ho." Your eyes grew glazed over with unshed tears. No regular person has ever been this close to death. A completely and utterly helpful stranger just saved you. Your chest was pounding with emotion but there was no time for that. The timer was quicking ticking down and both of your attentions were collectively drawn to the scene in front of you.

The "freeze" man from before and a woman both tried to carry over an injured player. The triumphant moment was killed as people erupted into cheers, and the injured soul was shot for the final time in the head. The first game came and went. The prize money was introduced and soon the stakes were raised. Voting amongst the players was almost coming too close to starting a fight. Some people wanted to leave off the bat.

After witnessing the carnage and violence being displayed in only the first game out of six. So many lives were lost, and the prize money shined like a golden nugget. It was like the largest golden ticket out of tremendous piles of debt. Which you were suffering with.

So even with protests and bated breaths, your fist firmly pressed down onto the 'O' button. You wore it like a badge of shame on your chest. A reminder of your shameless greed, judgemental stares burned into the back of your head. When people dispersed and went to different areas around the room, you were somber. You felt shameful as you contemplated your decision.

It was so close to a tie. Your vote could've done so much. But your debt wouldn't have been fixed. You would still have creditors hounding after you for your money. You were screwed either way. The jacket was large enough for you to be able to burry yourself inside of it , in both shame and fatigue.

You were shocked that they were handing out containers of food. With how sightly sickening the first game was. But ya' know, have to keep the prized pigs well-fed to continue on. You slunk back as you immediately dug into the food you were given. You weren't focusing on taste or texture. It tasted like home, so you didn't hesitate to scarf it down in quick succession. Your eyes looked in front of you, examining the walls and the layers of beds. Players either sat by themselves eating what they had , or were already starting to make connections with other poor unfortunate souls. Something caught your eye as you were people-watching. A group of game participants, who had voted the same as you did were walking over to the previous player. You could remember the desperation that clung to his voice. Especially when other players were brushing off his words during the voting. You saw that same familiar face who also risked his life to save yours. It was the most commotion in the room. Leaving your tin and your half-drunken water bottle on your mattress, you scooted off and gently found your footing. You placed one shoe in front of the other as you watched players dispersing away, the sounds coming from them not pleasant ones. What could've been said to make that many people storm off with such unpleasant looks on their faces?

You approached the men with skittish hands and determination in your mind. Alliances and teaming up with players may be the utmost needed in these games. Making friendly with someone whos played these children's games before could give you and others the boost needed to survive. Player 390 sounded determined as well. Especially talking up his friend as a previous player. Or... were they friends? The man just seemed like a friendly soul.

As Dae-ho was addressing the men with profound respect and camaraderie, you sort of appeared beside him. "I'm sorry to interrupt but..." Dae-hos eyes expanded when seeing you, his hand meeting your back in a rather firm pat. "Ah! , Have you come to join our team as well?" Your cheeks grew warm as suddenly you were on the spot. But admittedly that was your fault. "I-I- I heard the commotion over here, are you looking for one more person?" Your voice was small and meek. '456' looked at you, his eyes cold with glimpses of warmth in those pupils. To the looks of it, it appeared like he was trying to give you room to speak. "No matter the game, having allies is always good to have. You seem like a group of good men... I don't want to die so soon. Please, your consideration would mean the most."

'001' cracked a small smile. "I don't have a problem with it." His voice was smooth ... almost hollow. You didn't focus on demeanor, only happy to see such graciousness. '456' bit back a sigh, his face a little less solemn after watching the scene in front of him between Dae-ho and player '390.' Both their sleeve rolled up, showing off their similar Marine tattoos. Before he could get a word in, you spoke up once again. "I voted to continue on because of you. You surely have enough wisdom to carry the players participating. My vote wasn't one out of malice. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place-" He put a hand out to stop you from talking anymore. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I have no problem with you joining us, you seem to be a good kid." You took his words and ran with it. Dae-ho couldn't help but chime in. "I ran into them in the first game! They are as courageous as an ex-marine like myself." Your eyes expanded in utter confusion, no? "I'm flattered but-" '390' cut you off with a broad smile. "It's settled then, we are a full team! It is nice to meet you." The conversation was pulled away once so quickly a fight broke out. Player '001' stepped in to stop the fight once player 390 and Dae-ho stood back. You felt even safer grouping up with the four as you watched the older man quiet up the so-called 'Thanos' and his friend. Maybe you would leave the next game with your head still on your shoulders. In the dead of night, Dae-ho made sure to remind you about what the next game most likely would be. You tried to be the most quiet you could be as you made your way out of your bunk.

Why was he being so nice to you? You didn't expect to find somebody with such a welcoming atmosphere in the surroundings you were.. momentarily stuck in until the next vote. Sleep came and went, the first game haunting your mind. You may have been only able to get one to two hours of sleep at most. Trying to be as positive as you could be for this new day. Dalgona shouldn't be so bad.

When the second game was officially revealed your mind took a sharp turn to "I'm screwed." But still, your team stuck together. It couldn't be Dalgona if they were having players pair together in teams. Still though, with a previous player in the team mix, everything should go off smoothly.

Since he has seen this all before one way or another. The trust was already palpable amongst each other, you make this game your bitch. Player '222' was a happily added addition. You couldn't help but immediately clamor at having her join. The clock was already down to one minute. There was little time to spare to find one more person to finish up your group. She looked to be very capable, and it was immoral to leave a pregnant woman with no team. Soon the game was explained, as well as the inclusion of minigames in between.

You were one of the last teams. So you all took the time to watch every person's strategies and techniques. Especially the teams who actually.. made it out alive.

Victory at all costs! , player '390' had you all say as you joined hands atop of one another. Finally, you were brought up to have your ankles latched together. Since you were one of the last teams competing, there was no audience. But fewer distractions meant more focus for minigames that needed ample attention. Right beside player '222' you made sure to help her when she was losing her footing. Her eyes always glanced back to you when along with the others you'd ask if she was okay. Especially having a mighty hand at ddakji! With barely any time your team made it out alive. Once again the moment was killed by the sound of gunfire. Watching as the guards lay bullets into the team you were expecting to see finish alongside. You all were just glad you made it out alive. Coming back into the main room, the energy in the room was bubbling for conflict. You and your fellow teammates fell back to the side, introducing yourselves and getting closer to one another. When the vote was incoming you knew you weren't going to pick the option you had picked yesterday. But, if you were stuck playing one more game with these people, you felt your odds were better than before. As the masked guards came in to congratulate the players on the game, voting started up soon after. The piggy bank was a still painful reminder of what was at stake. All the money that equaled people's lives. Something in your gut was telling you that the vote wasn't going to end in your group's favor. But still, you walked up to the box, your hand pressing firmly on the 'X' button. Your hand quickly yanked off the patch on your chest to trade it out. You felt like some of the guilt lifted off your shoulders. The money was at least enough to pay off a good chunk of your debts. Getting out of here would mean you could find a way to spend your money smarter while your heart was still beating.

Filling into the 'X' side of the room, you saw that the 'O' vote count only went up and up. It made you feel almost queasy seeing the blue side of the room get larger and larger.

You stood right beside Dae-ho as your hands lingered towards his. His pinkie wrapped gently around yours, almost like a comforting gesture.

Maybe it was out of pity you had no clue on your mind. The bunched-up group waited with bated breath to see if maybe the vote would change in favor. Your face showed your shock and hurt, similar to the others on your side. One more game meant more bodies to be left astray. The air was palpable with hurt as the guards pulled back, announcing that a third game would be happening soon. Even though Jung-bae was a part of the major vote, you all still tried to stay positive. Especially on Young-Ils intervention as Gi-hun lamented about the ferociousness of the potential third game. Lights out soon came, the piggy bank in the middle giving the dark and depressing room a warm glow.

Your team had made a fort amongst the empty beds of the fallen players. You found some sort of peace as you and Dae-oh slept side by side in that compact space under the bed. Having a warm body next to you was nice in these trying times.

Morning came quicker than you had expected. Young-Il was already awake as you all arose from sleep. Like clockwork, the guards came in and escorted all the players to the next game. Some were more excited than others, you were currently just trying to keep your head steady. The pleasant conversation was killed once you all got higher up the long and winding staircases. After taking all that time you were finally brought to the third game. The doors in front of you opened as the guards filled out into the room. This new room was large and almost too grand. Its walls were a warm pale yellow with grand designs. You had all pretty much walked inside a large music box. In the middle of there stood tall a carousel. The PA system introduced the game, Mingle. Jung-bae had familiarity with the game, describing it as a game to pass the time on school trips. The team began to talk about potential strategy and game specifics. "What if it is smaller than five? Like three ... or four?" Dae-ho croaked out in response. You'd turn to him with a focused look in your eye. "We should be able to split off evenly if it's three." Everyone in recognition as Young-Il spoke up. "No matter what happens don't panic. Let's stay calm." "We'll all make it out together, here." On queue, his hand fell out in front of everyone huddled up. One by one all your hands fell atop of each other. The last one to finish up this was Gi-hun, and soon came the "One - Two - Three."

Quickly everyone was ushered onto the platform, and then the game would officially begin. The lights in the room would become harsher and more dramatic as the music started up, and soon would the spinning platform. As the PA system explained beforehand, numbers started to be called out. Ten was easy as you and another familiar group consisting of the older woman, her son, and the two other girls rushed into a room. Relief took over your bones and your bunch had made it in a room just in time. Horrified screams and shouts for mercy could be heard just outside the door. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest cavity as the locks rhythmically unlocked. Soon all players were now back atop the platform. The slow spinning motion of the large circle was almost sickening; when your eyes focused on the littered blood. But feeling Dae-hos hand firmly hold your shoulder, you snapped back into reality. The whirring motions abruptly stopped, causing you to barely lose your balance. The familiar monotone female voice of the PA system clicked to life, "Four." Immediately the lights started to flash, and your head jerked around to look at your other teammates. Counting heads, you all wouldn't have fit into one room of course. Without getting gunned down by the eventual guards. Gi-hun tried to say something but Young-Il already was grabbing your hand, shouting for two more people. Jung-bae already took the initiative as he pulled Jun-hee and guided the others into a vacant room. A scuffle happened amid the panicking players. You and Young-il had found two other players able to fill the room. But another man tried to push in, inevitably shoving you out of the room. Young-il looked like he was able to do something but in the scuffle, your leg met the man's chest. It was a swift kick with a pop ringing in your ears. With seconds to spare, Young-Il dragged you into the room and slammed the door shut. His eyes looked to you showing some semblance of pity. Even with the mortified voices outside and gun fodder, he looked towards you. "Are you alright?" You nodded as you readjusted your back pressed up against the wall. "Yeah, I'm okay ... he wasn't letting up." Trying to crack a joke clearly didn't work for the mood in the room. The two other players stayed silent, lips trembling with fear as a nightmare happened beyond the door. Young-Il gave you a glimpse of the smile before offering you a hand. "Here, that didn't sound pretty." He replied calmly as he helped you keep steady on your better leg. Soon everyone was let out of their respective rooms once again. The counter on the wall is now down to "168." On the other side of the room, you and Young-Il excited. Even as much as you tried to resist his help your leg was stinging like hell. The distant voices of Jung-bae and Dae-ho could be heard. "Brother Young-Il, Y/n!" Along with your other fellow teammates. Young-Il flashed his teeth in a smile as he called back. "Gi-hun!" You two rushed back together, you slightly lagging behind him. But he didn't seem to take any mind to it. In fact, trying to make sure you didn't damage your injured leg any more than it already was. You were met with the sight of your relieved friends. Jung-bae was immediately joyously welcoming the two of you back. "I was worried, I'm glad you two made it back." Gi-hun addressed the two of you. Young-Il had the biggest charismatic grin on his face.

"I'm a social guy, so I'm pretty good at these kinds of games." You chuckled alongside Jung-bae as the air around you all settled. This calm was weird but it was welcomed by you. "I just kinda held on tight and hoped I wouldn't get trampled along the way, seems like it works." Jung-bae nodded firmly as he patted your back, the wind leaving your lungs. "It sure did! I knew you two would make it out in one piece, I did." Dae-hos eyes wandered to your limp. He frowned at the sight of you holding back simmering pain. It all kinda just mixed into the worry already present on his face. But the joke Young-Il made definitely eased up tension. "Ohh... In her tummy?" It was a perfectly timed response to even get Gi-hun to let out some tension with a laugh. You felt well about this entire ordeal, seeing the warmth in everyone's faces. The next round was about to begin. Dae-ho turned his attention to you, pointing down to your leg. "Eh? - what happened with you?" His eyes showed genuine worry. He didn't want to lose you... maybe. "I'm fine, I just got caught up in the crowd when me and Young-Il were trying to find others." You tried to wave off his concerns, but he would place a reassuring hand on your arm, gently squeezing the bicep. "Your leg looks pretty torn up, on second thought don't look down. The sight before him was a bone prodding at the skin of your ankle. This wasn't good, you needed to be able to run! His breathing was panicked as his eyes darted around. "I-please be careful, it doesn't look so good. L-let me help you relieve pressure on it, hop." His arm extended for you to hold onto it. You gritted your teeth as you linked your arm with his. One foot, two foot repeated in your head as every remaining player returned to the platform. The numbers continued to be announced. Three, Six, and then Two. You didn't expect yourself to survive the last one. But a girl... You had seen her before hanging out with the guy who called himself Thanos. She had practically thrown you into a room. As the door clicked shut you finally could relax your one leg against the wall. She didn't really say much to you. "Thank you... thank you." You repeated, and your head nodded also repeatedly. "We saved each other, so thank - you." She replied.

Her tone was brief and almost bitter but who wouldn't be after witnessing what they had witnessed. Finally, it was all over, this game of doom. The walk down the stairs was brutal on your ankle. Your mind was so focused on the burning pain that you could only listen to somewhat of what Dae-ho was saying ... for ... moral support?

Quickly he swooped his arm back under yours. As players filled into the room , this was a moment of rest. Jung-bae was already counting the heads of players. So at the moment it was best to lay low and wait at the side lines. Perfect for Dae-ho to help you. Bringing you off to the main steps of the beds , he ushered you to sit.

“Okay! Thank you mother hen…” , you’d joke as you sat yourself up straight. Clearly the joke didn’t land as Dae-ho looked at you sternly. Slowly you extended your ankle out to him as he kneeled down in front of your , with an awkward chuckle in between. Immediately assessing your leg you couldn’t help but butt in as you heard him wincing. “What-“

Your eyes expanded seeing what Dae-ho was seeing. Comically you held a hand over your mouth as you gagged. Dae-ho immediately once again tried to calm your nerves. “I can fix it. If I remember correctly.. here.” His hands reached to unzip the zipper of your own jacket to your “tracksuit.” Your hands and his hands collided but by the way he was gesturing to your sleeve , you got what he was putting down.

Your teeth gnawed down on your sleeve. You pulled your eyes away immediately from the sight of your busted ankle. Dae-ho had his hands firmly set around specific points of your ankle. “Breathe in.. and three , two-“ Your ankle sounded off with a loud pop. You felt like you had gotten air brought back into your lungs. A pleased smile grew on his face. His eyes were so kind as he watched you be filled with pain relief. Rolling your ankle to keep it set. You saw him gripping at his shirt sleeve. “Dae-ho.. what are you doing?” You could not get another word as he ripped his sleeve off.

Accidentally you’d gasp as he quickly wrapped the fabric around your relocated ankle. “This should help ease your pain.” You were left speechless , which left him chuckling at your dumbfound-ness. “How did you know how to do that?” You asked him curiously. I mean he was an ex-marine , not just anyone knew how to set an ankle , even a marine. He shrugged his shoulders with a clueless nature. “I’ve had a bone injured one too many times. We also learned it when needing to help tend to fellow injured marines on the spot.” You gave him a look of recognition as you kept that in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you realized your ankle was still in his gentle grip.

“You’re too kind to me Dae-ho.” You humbly remarked as you once again glanced away. What he responded with was… shocking? Well it’s not like he had let out a bomb of truth on you. But just by the way he responded to you made you feel the biggest of emotions. “We’re friends by now , and maybe I like taking care of you.”

Okay , was he flirting with you? No that was impolite to think. Your mind raced as you were only able to utter out a measly , “I appreciate you.” His head would triumphantly nod. “I appreciate you too , my friend!” In quick succession , you were already being called over by Gi-hun. Him and Young-Il were standing in a sort of corner of space behind empty bunks.

Dae-ho quickly stood up , offering you a hand. “We’re needed.” He’d surmised with an unmistakable grin on his face. Maybe he was feeling butterflies just like you. Repositioning your body , you began to sit up as your hand clasped with his. “We most definitely are.” You remarked in response. Odds be damned , Dae-ho was too good for you.

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joeyfranchise · 1 day ago

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all tangled up in the moon

justin herbert x fem!reader

summary: you finally began feeling open to dating in your new home of sunny la, especially since your best friend didn’t love you back the way you loved him… unless he did? a telling double date begins unraveling feelings that you didn’t know were shared…

warnings: pining/mutual pining. expressions of feelings. a LOT of fluff. explicit sexual content, MDNI. 18+ only.

word count: 6.3k.

note: my first ever justin fic!! based on so many ideas from my bestie @joeyburrrow, also happy belated birthday btw 🫂 i’m sorry i didn’t get it posted yesterday! but, she and i have talked about so much of this and this fic truly is for her. ALSO— FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC ONLY— i made justin allergic to walnuts. idk if he is or not, but it’ll make sense when you get there. i hope you like this. love you all. 💗

the dating pool in los angeles was nothing short of horrible.

sure, there were tons of people, which meant tons of options… but that also lead to some problems. there was so much diversity around, which again, is great… but it often led to mismatched partners and having trouble finding someone with all of the same interests or morals or values as you.

that being said, while messing around on dating apps, you found yourself a date that ticked more of your boxes than anyone else had since you moved to the sunny city.

his name was damon, and he worked at a law firm that wasn’t too far from your own nine-to-five job. his profile said he was 6’2, in his pictures he displayed a beautiful smile, and his interests were similar enough to yours that you figured why not give it a chance?

when you swiped right he’d messaged you nearly immediately, which could’ve been a red flag, but he kept it sweet and professional. his personality shined through his messages and you found yourself genuinely laughing at some of his jokes, and that was always a good sign.

you ran into one little problem though. you didn’t really know anyone else in l.a. except for your best friend, therefore you didn’t have many people to trust. sure, you had coworkers and acquaintances in the office, but none of them were around you enough to be able to vet through suitors from your dating life to let you know who would work and who wouldn’t.

you were also afraid to go out with someone new alone, and you blamed that on being an introvert. you ultimately made the decision that either damon would have to be okay with your first date being a double date, or you just wouldn’t go. when damon agreed it was fine, you called justin worriedly - this was going to be the hard part.

he picked up after two rings.

“is this the krusty krab?” you asked teasingly, smiling as you heard him huff out a brief laugh. he lowered his voice before answering.

“no, this is patrick.”

“yeah, justin patrick,” you teased, “unless i called the wrong brother.” you chewed on your bottom lip as you heard him chuckle again.

“that’s my name! don’t wear it out.” he joked. you could practically see the dumb grin already etched across his face. you remained silent for a moment, the weight of the question weighing on you. when you didn’t respond, justin took the lead of the conversation again.

“hey, y/n? you okay? not that i mind you calling me, of course i don’t mind… but did you need something? is everything alright?” you appreciated his ability to talk you down in moments like this, it was like he could sense your nerves even from miles away, and over a phone call.

“i’m okay. but i have a tiny favor to ask. you know you’re my most favorite best friend in the wholeee world, right?” you laughed, trying to push past the anxiety of the question you needed to ask him. “i do. what’s the favor?”

“i have a date friday night and i’ve never met him before. i didn’t know anyone else to ask and.. i was hoping maybe you and chloe could come along? like a double date?”

justin and chloe had started seeing each other recently, and you liked her enough not to really worry about their relationship. sure, she was living your dream being with justin, but you practically knew he didn’t feel the same about you. while you were completely and utterly in love with him, he still saw you as his best friend, and you had learned to accept it.

when you first met chloe you knew she wasn’t his type, she was completely different from justin… but he seemed happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. she was excited to meet you too, and in the few times you’d seen her since she was always genuine and kind.

“i think we can make that work, i should be out of practice in time. i’ll let chloe know and then we can figure out where to go. there’s a new restaurant downtown she and i went to a few weeks ago, you’d love it. they have really good raspberry cheesecake!” he said.

“oooh my favorite!” you cheered, already daydreaming of the delicious confection.

“i know.” he agreed. you smiled on the other end of the line, the way he knew you from cover to cover made your heart ache. you only hoped damon - and if not him, then whoever was destined for you - could be such a wonderful lover to you. someone who truly cared to learn everything there was to know about you, just like you and justin did with each other, even if only as friends.

you and justin talked for a bit longer over menial things before you ended the call, bidding him a goodnight. you made sure to text damon about your plans, letting him know you’d get back to him about a time as soon as you could.

he was excited for your date, and also excited to meet justin. you learned damon was a big fan of sports, and even though he wasn’t a chargers fan, he still really liked justin and thought he was a great player. he didn’t believe you when you first told him justin was your best friend, you had to provide him with photo evidence. the whole ordeal made you laugh. after chatting briefly with damon you put your phone on your bedside table before rolling over and getting cozy under your blankets.

you went to bed with a smile on your face that night, excited for your date with damon and also excited for him to meet your best friend.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you sailed through the week on a high, and when friday night came you were still feeling ecstatic. you were still a little anxious about going out and meeting damon in person for the first time, but getting to know him through the week had helped you warm up a little and let your guard down.

you decided on wearing a simple black dress, classy yet not too-fancy. you curled your hair and applied a light layer of makeup before slipping on a pair of strappy black heels.

you planned on meeting justin and chloe at the restaurant at seven, giving everyone enough time to get ready and allowing justin to shower and freshen up after practice.

damon picked you up at six-thirty. he met you at your door with flowers which you graciously accepted, and you excused yourself to bring them inside and put them in water before locking up and going with damon to his car.

he opened your door for you and you slid in, buckling your seatbelt as you waited for him to get in and start the engine. it was a bit chilly out and you were grateful when damon turned up the heat before backing out of your driveway and heading to the restaurant.

you chatted with him on the drive and it was pretty pleasant, you were thankful that the conversation between you both flowed easily. you learned that his favorite football team was the los angeles rams, and you joked with him that he’d need to let you out of the car immediately because you wouldn’t stand for that nonsense.

he laughed heartily at your joke. he talked to you more about his job, you learned he was a paralegal and that he’d been in the profession for nearly four years. you told him about your experience working in human resources and you related over shared experiences.

when you arrived to the restaurant damon parked and came around to open your door, and you were quickly met by justin and chloe. damon and justin shook hands and introduced themselves to each other as you greeted chloe.

“i love your dress!” she smiled, you thanked her. “you look incredible too, chloe!”

she wore a light blue dress that came down mid-thigh and had long sleeves. she wore black heels as well, and you loved the glittery eyeshadow she had put on.

the four of you walked into the restaurant and justin spoke to the host about reservations he had so graciously called in - which you thanked him immensely for. the host led your party to a table toward the back of the restaurant and you all sat. damon made sure to pull out your chair, and justin did the same for chloe.

the waitress came by shortly after for your drink orders, you and justin both got water. chloe ordered a riesling and damon ordered a cabernet, which you found amusing. you didn’t say anything about it, though.

the waitress brought your drinks quickly and she also brought a basket of bread for the table, with little cups of cinnamon butter. you indulged in one as you listened to justin and damon begin chatting about football.

you and chloe began to chime in at times, and the atmosphere was nice. you and damon also engaged in your own quiet conversation every now and then, and you were starting to like it every time he’d flash you his award winning smile… until justin would smile at you from across the table. in those moments, you knew who your heart truly belonged to.

a few times during dinner the conversations would ebb off, or the input from chloe and damon would stop, leaving only you and justin talking to each other.

the waitress brought your food and you all began dining, while still chatting here and there about work and sports and things of that nature. the waitress came back around a bit later to take plates and your dessert orders. the men continued to talk while you and chloe ordered, with you asking for cheesecake and chloe ordering a fudgy brownie.

something damon said reminded justin of something he needed to tell you, and he turned his attention toward you quickly.

“y/n, i was meaning to tell you that my uncle had some students interested in trying to make a car run on vegetable oil.” you laughed at his statement before giving your input.

“so what, they want to install a second fuel tank i’m assuming? so the vehicle can run on diesel til it’s hot enough and then they’ll switch to the oil?” you ask. “yeah exactly. i thought it sounded pretty cool.” justin smiles. “sounds like a waste of time to me.” you say amusedly. justin tilts his head and gives you a questioning glance.

“it’s totally not a waste of time. if they can figure out how to do it, it’ll be pretty sick.” he disagrees. damon glances between you before chiming in. “i think it’d be pretty cool too!” he agrees with justin.

“do you know how many times they’d have to filter the oil before they could even use it? and they’d have to make sure to install a solenoid valve to switch between two fuel tanks. too much work.” you say, crossing your arms and looking back and forth between both men. chloe says nothing, you assume she has no idea what any of you are talking about.

you noticed damon checking the time on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket and rejoining your conversation, but mostly listening to you and justin bicker.

“it totally reminded me of that 70s show though, you know? when hyde says ‘there’s this car…. and it runs on water, man!’” justin laughs, doing a pretty decent impression of the character.

“i just feel like making modifications to your car so it could run off vegetable oil is a waste of time.” you say, leaning back slightly in your chair. justin’s girlfriend looks between the two of you with an odd look on her face, only breaking focus when she sees the waitress approaching again.

“here’s the double chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream,” she says, placing the plate in front of chloe, “and here are the slices of raspberry cheesecake.”

she places the plate in front of you and damon is quick to grab it, sliding his piece of cheesecake onto one of the extra serving plates. chloe picks her fork up excitedly, slicing into the brownie and taking a small bite. her eyes roll as she tastes it, the richness of the chocolate has to be delectable. you watch as she cuts another small bite, this time more toward the center of the brownie where you can see it has small pieces of walnut in it.

she reaches over to cup justin’s jaw, squeezing a bit to get him to open his mouth so she can feed it to him. you ignore the slightly jealous feeling bubbling in your stomach as she brings it closer to his mouth, but you can’t get your words out. justin looks at her with a puzzled expression. he hadn’t been paying attention to her or what she ordered, so he has no idea what she’s about to feed him.

as if on instinct, your hand shot across the table and closed around her wrist, stopping her from feeding him. “s-sorry.. uh, justin is allergic to walnuts.” you say, lowering your gaze so you don’t make eye contact with her. she lets go of his jaw and he shrugs sheepishly.

“sorry baby.” she tells him, eating the bite for herself. “it’s okay.” justin replies. his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, nervous energy is shared between you. damon watches the entire ordeal silently, passing glances between the three of you as he eats his dessert.

you pick up your fork and take a bite too, and the tartness of the raspberry dances across your tongue in a pleasant way. justin was right with his recommendation, this restaurant truly is amazing. damon and justin begin conversing again, and you stay quiet as you eat, listening attentively.

chloe chimes in a few times, earning laughs from both men with her unintentional humor. you slide the last bite of cheesecake on your fork and bring it to your lips, ready to enjoy it, when suddenly your fork is plucked from your hand. you look up to find justin eating the last bite straight off of your fork. yours.

while you’re on a double date. with other people.

your gaze quickly flips from justin to chloe and then to damon as you try to gauge their expressions. damon doesn’t seem to notice or care as he continues talking about football, and justin nods along with what damon is saying as if this ordeal was the most normal thing that has ever happened.

sure, you and justin are close enough to eat off each others forks and sometimes even drink from the same cup or can, but the fact that he did it on a double date baffled you. neither of the men at the table seemed to be giving it a second thought, but when your gaze shifts to chloe you can tell she’s perturbed in some way. her eyes are slightly squinted as she looks you up and and down, and then her gaze shifts to justin as she does the same to him.

you continue to sit quietly at the table, listening to the men talk. chloe stays quiet, too. the tension between the two of you feels almost palpable.

you would never want to come between her and justin, even if you did have feelings for him throughout all these years.

the rest of the time spent in the restaurant went by in a blur. eventually damon and justin stopped talking, realizing that you and chloe hadn’t shared a word, and they mutually decided that dinner should be over.

damon and justin split the checks and pay before each of you stand from the table to leave. when you make it outside you suck in a deep breath of the fresh air, you’ve felt like you were suffocating for the last fifteen minutes. all of you say goodbye to each other before you get into damon’s car, and chloe into justin’s.

the drive back to your house is quiet. you’re anxious, your throat feels tight and you know your cheeks must be incredibly pink. damon hasn’t even glanced at you and you’re afraid to say a word because if you do you’ll start crying.

he finally pulls into your drive and parks the car before looking at you for the first time since you left the restaurant. you wring your hands together before looking back at him, expecting the worst.

“that was fun, justin is a really nice guy.” his voice is genuine as he speaks to you, but you’re prepared for where this is going. “he loves you, y/n.”

you look at him with bewilderment as he continues speaking. you want to say something, but he holds up a finger to tell you to wait. “before you start with the whole ‘he doesn’t feel that way about me’ spiel, he does. i saw how you looked at each other all night. he doesn’t look at her like that.”

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes as he speaks, and you turn your gaze from his so he won’t see. “you love each other, y/n. it’s okay. i had fun, i’m glad i met you.” he says, reaching over the console to grab your hand. he gives it a gentle squeeze and you look back up at him as he smiles at you. “i would like to be your friend, if that’s okay.”

“yeah, we can stay friends, of course.” you tell him. he lets go of your hand and gets out of the car, circling around to get your door and walk you up the front steps. before you can walk up damon pulls you in for a hug, which you reluctantly accept.

“it was nice meeting and going out with you, y/n. don’t be a stranger!” he says, and then he lets you go and gets back into his car, driving off down the street.

you let yourself in the house and lock the door behind you before collapsing on the couch. you don’t have the energy to move, to take off your shoes, or to even be worried about your makeup.

you just sit there, and you cry. you cry for all the lost time, if it is true and he does love you. and if damon’s wrong, and you do take the time to tell justin how you feel and he rejects you… well, you should go ahead and cry for that too. you cry for the only boy you’ve ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

justin buckles his seatbelt and holds his foot down on the brake before backing out of his parking spot at the restaurant, ready to get home and into more comfortable clothing. chloe sits beside him silent, like she did for most of the dinner.

he spares a glance her way and notices her posture is rigid, her lips are pressed into a tight, thin line. justin reaches over to grasp her hand but she flinches away from his touch.

“are you okay?” he asks her, his tone concerned. “i’m okay. can you take me to my house, please?” she asks. her voice sounds small, she sounds upset.

“of course.” justin agrees. they hadn’t been dating long enough to make the steps to move in together, but chloe frequented his house often as long as he was home. he thought it was a bit strange that she wanted to go home, but he waited to question it.

when he pulled in her driveway and parked she was quick to jump out of the car and make her way inside. justin turned the car off and pocketed the keys before following chloe inside.

“um, is everything okay?” he asked, stepping into the living room. “no. we need to talk.” chloe said, sitting down on the couch. justin sat next to her and place a reassuring hand on her knee as he waited for her to speak.

“i think we should break up.”

justin is taken aback by her confession, but he doesn’t speak. he waits to hear her out. “i really like you, justin. and i think you like me. but you don’t love me. and you never will, because you love someone else.”

“what?” he asks, his tone incredulous. “you love y/n, justin. you know it, i know it, everyone on the planet knows it… except for her. i think you’re both idiots.” chloe smiles softly.

justin looks around the room nervously, waiting for chloe to speak again. “you’re both idiots because what you’ve been looking for has been in front of you the whole time. it was obvious you two should have been on a date. you both carried the conversation, you were doing silly impressions to make her laugh… you look at her like she’s your most prized possession, justin.”

he takes a deep breath before looking at chloe and finally speaking. “i’m sorry.” is all he’s able to mutter out.

“you don’t need to apologize. i’ll admit, i was upset at first. but on the drive i thought about it, and i just want you to be happy. and i figured someone needed to tell you that girl loves you, because if the two of you have been friends this long and you haven’t figured it out, i’m afraid you never will.” she laughs. “and god, i didn’t even know you were allergic to walnuts.”

justin laughs too before reaching over and pulling chloe into him for a hug. “thank you for telling me all that… and i am sorry. i really am.”

“it’s okay, justin. just get the girl, okay?” she says, shooing him out the door. he waves goodbye before walking off to his car and heading home.

when he arrives home he sits in the driveway pondering… did you really love him back? and if you have, how long? and what was he going to do?

he thinks of all the time he’s lost out on if it’s true, and you do love him back. he’d supressed the feelings for as long as he could remember because he never knew he had a chance - he never thought he’d be the one for you. and if he wasn’t he knew it’d break him, but all he wanted was your happiness.

all he knew right now was that he loved you, that you were the only girl he’d ever loved.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

you don’t talk to justin for a week.

you’re afraid to. usually, he’s the first person you run to about anything, but since the subject matter is him, you feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. you spend the entire week sad, crying into your coffee or whatever dinner you’ve chosen to eat after work (usually cereal), and watching lifetime movies that are guaranteed to make you feel worse - they make the longing in your chest burn.

justin finally texts you on friday night, and you’re afraid to open it. you let it sit unread for half an hour before your phone starts ringing on the end table. it’s justin, you know it is, but you’re afraid to answer. you pick up your phone slowly and slide your thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“hello?” you sniffle, picking up a tissue to wipe your nose. “hey y/n, you okay?” justin asks.

“yeah, lifetime movie, sorry. what’s up?”

“just wanted to see if you wanna come over and hangout? i haven’t heard from you all week, i miss you.” he says. you miss him too. but are you ready to see him after what happened?

against your better judgment, you agree to go over. after all, he is your best friend. if anyone can get you feeling better, it’s justin. you hang up the call and slide on your slippers before grabbing your keys and phone and heading over to his house.

you didn’t bother changing, you didn’t care what you looked like in front of him. he’d seen you sick as a dog before, he even held your hair when you puked a few times, so he could handle seeing you in an old ratty tshirt and sweatpants that were a few sizes too big.

there’s also no way he could ever judge you for having greasy hair.

you make the quick drive to his place and you almost panic and leave before calming yourself down and walking to the front door. it’s just justin. this is no big deal.

you knock twice but you know he already knows you’re there, and he swings the door open quickly before pulling you into a tight hug. physical affection is something you both enjoy, and you’ve missed him. you wrap your arms tightly around him and squeeze back.

justin laughs as he looks down at you. “sometimes i forget how small you are.”

“or maybe you’re sasquatch.” you say, giving him a shove. he lets go and steps aside so you can get in the door, and you waste no time in sliding your slippers off plopping down on his couch. you notice his house seems a little… different, but you can’t put your finger on it.

justin closes the door and makes his way over to you, acting like he’s going to sit on your lap. “don’t even think about it.” you tell him, bringing your legs up to your chest. he sits next to you and leans into your side.

“how was your week?” he asks you innocently. “it was horrible.” you reply. you share the most miniscule details with him when he tries pressing you further, because you’re too afraid to tell him what’s really wrong. justin listens intently either way, hoping to find something he can do to make you feel better.

“well how’s it been with damon?” he finally asks, and you freeze. justin moves so he can lay his head on your lap, and he straightens out your legs before doing so. your hand naturally finds its way into his hair, your nails raking along his scalp soothingly. he shudders.

“damon um… well. he didn’t wanna go on another date. it wasn’t because he didn’t like me, though. he just said… he could tell u didn’t like him.”

justin hums softly. “interesting.” he says.

“what’s interesting?” you ask him. “chloe broke up with me.”

“WHAT?” you shout, startling him a bit. “sorry… i mean, what? why? i thought you guys really liked each other?”

“well, she liked me a lot. and i liked her but… i don’t love her. she really helped me realize a lot of feelings i had that i’d been holding back.” he turns his head to look up at you and smiles and - oh. oh.

the look he’s giving you seems to be full of pure adoration, pure love. and you realize that he always looks at you like this.

tears start to form in your eyes again and justin sits up, this time pulling you into his lap. “you okay?” he asks, soothingly rubbing his hand over your back.

that’s why it seemed different - all her stuff was gone.

“i don’t know. what’s happening here?” you ask him, burying your face in his neck. “chloe helped me realize that i love you, y/n. i always knew it, deep down. but… i don’t know. i never really thought you felt the same.”

“damon said the same to me. that he could, um, tell we loved each other. are we just stupid?” you ask him, pulling away from his neck to look in his eyes.

“apparently two idiots in love.” he says. his hand finds the back of your hair and smooths over it softly before he pulls you into his neck again, crushing you in another hug.

“so where do we go from here?” you ask, enjoying his embrace. “i guess forward.” he jokes, poking at your sides. “together, of course, if you want that. as a couple.”

you can’t help the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you as he speaks. of course you want that, it’s all you’ve ever wanted. “i love you, justin.” you finally say, and being able to tell him to his face is like a dream come true. “i love you back.” he says softly. you meet his gaze once again and he looks nervous, but you aren’t sure why.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him sweetly. you softly touch his cheek, smoothing over it with your thumb. he doesn’t say another word, but he leans in and kisses you.

you feel dizzy, your heart is pounding incredibly hard against your chest. justin is over the moon too. your lips begin moving in sync, neither of you able to catch a decent breath as you devour each other hungrily. justin's hands find your waist and he pulls you into him further, and your arms circle around his neck.

he pulls away for a second before jumping right back in, awkwardly bumping his nose against yours. you both laugh before kissing again. this is truly what euphoria feels like. you don’t know how long you both sit there taking each other apart, whether it’s minutes, hours or days.

what matters is it’s happening. finally.

your hands trail down his biceps as he continues kissing you, leaving a trail from the corner of your mouth down to the exposed column of your throat. your breath hitches when his lips meet one of your most sensitive spots, right where your neck meets your shoulder. “you okay?” he says, sounding concerned.

“i’m nervous.” you whisper. his gaze is soft as he looks at you, half smile spreading across his face. “it’s okay,” he whispers back, “we don’t have to take this any further until you’re ready.”

you hug him again and kiss his cheek softly. “i want to. i’m just nervous.”

“there’s no reason to be afraid.” he assures you. “do you wanna…” he starts, cocking his head to the side and motioning toward the direction of his bedroom. you nod a simple yes.

he stands with you and leads you down the hall to his room, although you know very well where it is. you’ve spent countless nights here cuddled up with him.

he twists the knob slowly and pushes the door open before guiding you inside, and meeting your lips with his again. the kiss is soft and gentle, and he walks you back toward his bed without breaking contact. once you’ve reached the side of the bed he pulls away and reaches behind himself with one arm, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head in one swift motion.

uou hop up onto his bed and get cozy against the pillows as he crawls onto the bed too, leaning over you. you rake your nails over the planes of his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead. his fingertips find the hem of your sweater and his gaze meets yours, waiting for your approval. you nod, and he slides both hands under it before lifting it over your head.

you’re wearing a simple white bra, but justin is looking at you like you’ve just descended down from heaven. you know he won’t ask you to take it off so you let what little bit of confidence you have flowing through your veins take over, and you quickly reach behind you to unclasp it.

justin sucks in a deep breath at the sight of you. you’re easily the most breathtaking woman he’s ever seen in his life, you have been since he first laid eyes on you… but seeing you like this… he feels like he’s died and made it to the afterlife.

you don’t hide your gawking either, his toned body has always been something you’ve enjoyed staring at whether he noticed it or not. “you’re so beautiful,” justin tells you, leaning in to capture your lips again. as he crawls over your body you can feel his length through his sweatpants, it lays hard and heavy over your leg. you shudder at the thought of it.

justin’s hands slide up your torso and he caresses your breasts softly before tweaking both of your nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. you arch upward into him and your body is covered in gooseflesh as you await his touch again.

you’ve never felt such pleasure and satisfaction in your life, and he’s only barely started. you’re sure that you’ve soaked through your panties and sweatpants at this point. he continues to grab at your chest as he kisses you and you moan out his name softly, causing him to rut against your leg. he needs you just as much as you need him, you can tell.

“justin, i’m ready. i want you.” you tell him, breaking away from his kiss to look into his eyes. he smiles down at you and raises his eyebrow, making sure one more time. “i’m ready.” you promise him. his hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants before pulling them down your legs quickly, along with your panties.

he pulls his off next and your mouth falls open, gawking at the sight in front of you. sure… justin was 6’6, everything about him was big… but holy shit. he is huge.

he smiles at you nervously before reassuring you, “it’ll be okay, i won’t hurt you. i swear.” you almost think you could faint at how cute and sexy he his. you tell him you don’t need any prep but he won’t allow it, and he uses the pad of his thumb to circle your clit quickly as he enters two fingers into you to work you open.

after a few minutes you’re ready, you can’t take anymore and you’re practically begging him to fuck you. he blushes at the sound of your moans, but his chest fills with pride knowing he’s making you feel so good. he pulls his fingers from your soaking heat slowly before wrapping his hand around his cock and giving it a few strokes. you let him situate your body how he needs to and he ends up with your ankles right at his shoulders as he prepares to push into you.

he’s lucky you’re flexible. his lips find yours again as he pushes in and your thankful because his kisses swallow your gasps. he moves slowly, inch by inch until he’s fully seated, and he waits a few minutes before moving so he doesn’t hurt you. when he finally pulls out and pushes back in, he moans loudly at how amazing you feel around him. you moan too, you’ve never felt so full in your life - and you’ve never felt so fulfilled either.

he moves to kiss you again and bumps his nose against yours again sweetly as his hands find yours and he tangles your fingers together. his movements are calculated, slow and methodical as he takes you apart, and unravels you in the very best way.

the room is filled with soft moans and labored breaths and the sounds of you kissing each other anywhere your lips can find. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak and tears prick at your eyes when you do. this is all you’ve ever wanted, and it’s beautiful, it’s magical. justin feels the same.

you warn him that you’re close and he tells you it’s okay, you can let go for him. “cum for me, it’s okay. i love you, y/n.” and that’s all it takes. his admission of love knocks you straight over the edge and into the thrashing waters, your orgasm taking over your whole body. he cums soon after, his body enjoying the feeling of you squeezing him as he rides out his high.

when he pulls out of you he stand quickly, running off to his bathroom to grab a warm wet towel to clean you both up. he didn’t bother asking if you were on the pill, he already knows every aspect of your life anyway.

justin cleans all your sensitive areas with the warm rag before wiping himself off and sliding back into bed with you, pulling the covers over your bodies.

“that was amazing.” you admit.

“yeah it was. you know how long we could’ve been doing that?” he laughs, and you giggle too. “i love you.” you tell him. “i love you too, so much. can i tell you something stupidly embarrassing, though?” he asks, and you roll over to face him. “oh god, what justin?”

“remember after we graduated, right after you turned eighteen and we had that pool party?”

“yeah, i remember.” you say. it was one of your fondest memories, actually. “that little yellow bikini you wore… i just thought i should admit to you now that i thought about you in that so much when i was jerking it that i thought my dick would fall off.”

both of you erupt in laughter, the admission funny and embarrassing, although endearing too. “that’s okay, remember right before we went to college and you were teaching me how to drive but you kept getting frustrated and yelling at me? i thought that was the hottest i’d ever seen you.” you say. he pulls you into his chest and kisses you softly.

“you’re getting me all worked up again, baby,” he laughs, kissing at your cheek toward your ear. “looks like we’re gonna have to go for round two.”

- - -

taglist: @slimshiesty @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989

photos and dividers used are not mine, all cred to owners.

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melminli · 13 hours ago

Text

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

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rcmclachlan · 2 days ago

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okay, so if you’re not writing the aquarium scene in the 118/217 scheming fix-it (god i love this) can you at least share what mishap and or shenanigan gets them banned from the aquarium?? (since you mentioned it in the tags i assume you picked one!)

The aquarium is Christopher's idea, because getting Buck and Tommy back together is the one thing he and Eddie can talk about without it devolving into shouting or week-long silences that make Eddie want to put his fist through his living room wall.

So if plotting to interfere in the open bear trap that is his idiot friends' breakup gets him an hour of uninterrupted screen time with Chris three times a week? He'll meddle in a way that would make even his abuela say, "cariño, that's a little much." He'll change his legal middle name to el metiche.

"Buck used to take me to see the otters when I was younger; they're his favorite. But the exhibit has been closed for a year because they've been redoing it," Chris says, then texts him a link to the aquarium website. "The big reopening is next week. If someone asked Buck to take Jee-Yun, he wouldn't be suspicious."

"Chris, you're a genius," Eddie says, a little awed. His entire body aches to reach through the laptop screen and across state lines to pull his kid into a hug, but all he can do is sit on his hands and hope his face shows all the love he feels.

A small, but genuine grin unfurls on Chris's face. "That's not news, dad."

Eddie decides to take the aquarium idea to what Chimney keeps calling the weekly 118-217 Shadow Summit to see if the rest of the group thinks it holds water—no pun intended—and is extremely offended when Dana gives him a slow blink and says, "That's actually not bad. Who came up with it?"

"Is it that hard to believe it was my idea?"

"Very."

Dana presses the rim of her wine glass to the sly, crimson curve of her mouth. With her victory rolls, winged eyeliner, and tattoos, she looks like the winner of a car show pinup contest. She also looks like an evil queen out of an old school Disney movie. At least five people in their general vicinity look like they'd thank her if she force-fed them a poisoned apple or turned into a giant dragon.

Eddie reaches into the bowl of popcorn by his elbow and throws a handful of it at her. She just takes a sip of her wine and serenely lets the kernels bounce off her.

"Knock it off before I put you both in a time out." Lucy drains the dregs of her beer and says to Chimney, "Having Buckley take your kid is the perfect excuse—she's, what, two? Three?"

"Five," Chim says with the heartache of a man whose baby is almost old enough to rent a car. "As long as we don't tell my wife that Jee's playing the part of the cutest MacGuffin ever in this little plot, we should be good. But how do we get Tommy there?"

"Short of planting a bomb in the penguin tank, I can't think of a reason Mr. Nature Boy himself would ever voluntarily go." Hen roots around in the popcorn bowl for the kernels with the most butter. "Actually, he might be thrilled if we did that. I don't think he likes birds very much."

Dana lifts a brow. "I smell a story."

"Does it smell like KFC?" Chim pops a pretzel in his mouth and chews loudly, grinning. "Once we've adjourned the cabal for the evening, remind me to tell you about Maurice."

Eddie doesn't know Nico very well—he can't get a read on the guy to save his life—but the smug smirk he's sporting looks entirely out of place. Nico takes the last mozzarella stick off the platter they'd ordered to share and puts it between his teeth like a cigar. He looks like the world's lamest oil baron.

Eddie looks at Dana in askance. Wordlessly, she plucks a piece of popcorn out of her hair and throws it at him. It nails him right between the eyes.

"Let me handle Kinard," Nico says. "I'll get him there, no problem."

To his credit, Nico does get Tommy to the aquarium the day of the sea otter exhibit grand reopening. And thanks to Chimney planting Chris's idea in Buck's head at the start of their next shift, Buck does take Jee-Yun.

Unfortunately, their paths never cross, because while the penguin habitat doesn't explode, the sea jelly gallery does, completely flooding the first floor. When the aquarium is forced to evacuate everyone, Buck and Jee-Yun end up at the Chili's down the street, while Tommy ends up riding in an ambulance with an old woman who gets stung by a box jellyfish.

"I don't understand how this happened!" Lucy shouts, keeping her fingers on the ankle pulse of a man in the middle of an allergic reaction to a lilliputian jelly sting as Hen and Chim pump him full of epinephrine and then start administering compressions.

Eddie would help, but he's carrying three kids—two in his arms, one on his back—through shin-deep water to safety while attempting to dodge all the bluebottles floating on the surface. Dana glides past him to get the next group of kids waiting to be rescued, not a hair out of place. She looks like a fucking mermaid. He's gonna trip her the next time they pass each other.

Annoyed, Lucy casts around and then asks, "Has anyone seen Nico?"

Just in time for the man himself to sedately walk through the pandemonium, two bewildered penguins tucked under his arms like purses. He smiles brightly. "Hey, did Kinard pass through here, by any chance? Phase two of my plan is ready to go."

Eddie stares at him. "What was phase one?"

He never does find out what exactly phase one entailed, but it's enough to get them permanently banned from the aquarium for life.

"If you ask me, the punishment so does not fit the crime," Nico says, digging an elbow into Eddie's side as he jostles for room in the back of Athena's squad car.

Eddie says nothing. He's too busy mentally composing the short-answer portion of his application for the El Paso Fire Department, although, in the end, it doesn't matter. He completely forgets everything he plans on writing when Athena slides in, glances in the rearview mirror, and shouts, "Those better not be penguins in my back seat, Edmundo Diaz!"

He and Chris spend two hours talking about it during their next call, so Eddie calls it a win.

#lafd shenanigans #the next 118-217 shadow summit begins with everyone doing a walk of shame into the bar #(except nico‚ who practically skips inside‚ followed by two penguins)#bucktommy #rc's 911 fics

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starfilmz · 14 hours ago

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THOROUGHFARE | UNSURE FEELINGS, DRUNKEN CALLS

⤷ A JJ MAYBANK SOCMED AU .ᐟ

──── you never expected that swapping socials with your call of duty duo would change your life — whether for better or worse, you're still not sure. friendships are made and something much more begins.

thoroughfare masterlist ──── 05 | 06 | 07

a/n: chap 6 has been a bitch to post bc tumblr couldn’t handle it but VIOLA it has arrived. this chap became a mix of smau and written fic so we doin something here 🤔 ofc it’ll still be social media based do not fret, but i feel like these written ones are needed for this. not betaread obvs so mistakes are everywhere!! lmk your thoughts, expectations, or how u see this fic ending cuz it is soon 😝

john b stood up as soon as he heard the whirring sound of his best friend’s motorcycle. it came to a stop when he stepped out on the château’s porch, leaning against one of the posts with his arms crossed. jj looked disheveled and as much as he wanted to say “as per usual”, the boy walked towards the house as if he ran into several bushes on the way.

he had a frown on his face as he faced john b. “i don’t know what do,” he finally spoke, his expression morphing that tells john b he didn’t want to admit to that. “long distance relationships are weird and, i’ve experienced worst that weird, man, you and i both know that and i—“

“alright, calm down,” john b grabbed the boy’s shoulder before he could go on another self-destructive tangent. “let’s talk about this, okay? pope said he’s on his way with beers.”

jj sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. “it feels unfair for her that i’m making a big deal about this. it’s the whole rafe thing again! honestly, i genuinely think i overreacted.” he sat on the closest couch on the porch with furrowed eyebrows.

john b followed him, an amused expression on his face. jj noticed this, raising his eyebrows at the boy. “what’s so funny?”

he shook his head, his curls falling slightly to his side as he looked at jj. “when’s the last time you acted this way towards a girl?”

“oh, don’t start, jb.”

“i’m sorry, okay? look, you don’t need to be thinking this hard, man, alright?” the boy chuckled, patting his friend firmly on the back. “yn’s a good person, i can tell, and…” john b looked around as if anyone else but the two of them were around. he leaned closer towards jj, who didn’t think twice to do the same.

“from what i’ve read from sar’s phone, yn’s just crazy for you.”

this changed jj’s solemn expression into a mixture of lovesick, curiosity, and excitement. “i mean, that’s natural, right? she agreed to be my girlfriend so it’s natural for her to like me.” his words sounded defensive which made john b’s eyebrows rose.

“what i’m trying to say, jj, you don’t have to freak out just because you don’t know who’s around her. long distance is weird, i agree, but are you going to be like this every time she hangs out with people you don’t know?”

jj lowered his eyes, a tiny wave of shame washing over him. “no.”

“right, and i’m not trying to say don’t be jealous— you can’t help it, you like the girl,” john b held one of the blonde’s shoulder. “and if i were to give you an advice, man to man, thinking in your shoes, if you find long distance so much, why don’t you do something about it?”

jj looked up at john b, confusion etched all over his face. “what are you—“ and as if something clicked in his mind, john b nodded, confirming his thoughts. “isn’t it too soon?”

“what’s too soon?” both boys visibly flinched as pope made his presence known, beer bottles in hand. “i had to swipe this from my dad’s stack so you guys better fill me in.”

you couldn’t help the smile at john b’s story, giving it a heart as scrolled off the app. you would send a response, something about not leaving him in the streets because you guys still have a game session planned tomorrow, but you decided not to.

they were probably still at the boneyard, a place where they usually throw their parties as you’ve learned previously from jj, and they’ve shared enough stories about those to let you know those parties don’t end easily.

you sighed, sliding further into your bed as you hugged your pillow. was it silly to feel the way you do now?

you aren’t ready to fly out to see the boy you’ve been dying to see, but you want to, and you tell yourself you’re okay seeing them have fun, but as you stare deeper into your bedroom wall, you’re beginning to doubt that.

you took a deep breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to sleep and brush off your thoughts, but as soon as you do, your phone rang beside you. you moved the pillow and raised your phone, seeing jj’s profile picture and username across your screen.

jj was calling you.

you sat up, answering the phone, and placed it on your ear. loud music greeted your first, along with voices you’re not familiar with.

“—you can’t just leave her like that, jayj!” a girl harshly whispered against the speaker and it made you think she was either kiara, cleo, or sarah.

“hello?” you finally spoke, and when you did, everyone on the other side seemed to quiet down. you heard some kind of harsh slap, along with a small ‘ow!’. you didn’t recognize the rest of the voice before, but you were definitely aware someone had slapped jj.

“jj? you there?” you called once more, tone lighter in amusement. “i’m gonna hang up on you if you don’t talk.”

that seemed to catch the boy’s attention as he began sputtering away. “no, no, don’t, hello! look, i’m sorry, i’m being peer pressed right now—“

“don’t say that!” a deeper voice interrupted him.

“—and i just wanted to hear your voice…” from the way jj was talking, you could tell he was drunk, though you did believe that slap before sobered him up a bit. “i missed you, yn.”

“it’s only been a day a whole, jj,” you chuckled, leaning against your pillows. despite your answer, you couldn’t help but feel the same way. “but i missed you too, jay.”

“i’ve been building up the courage to call you all night and, i don’t know, i just wanted to hear from you before my lights go out,” jj laughed at his own words, a drunken expression all over his face you imagined.

“build up the courage? i’m your girlfriend, jay, you could call me whenever you want.” you answered, a small smile on your face.

there was a beat of silence from him and you thought it was a sign that he’s close to getting conked out, but his next words proved otherwise.

“can you say that again?” he whispered, almost like he’s hiding, which was most likely from his eavesdropping friends. “about the girlfriend thing, please?”

you hummed a playful tone, the instinct to tease jj was strong and it almost won if it weren’t the way your cheeks heated up at his voice, the way he sounded so soft and near the phone as if he was saying it directly in your ear.

“i’m your girlfriend, jj maybank. you happy?” you had to roll your eyes despite no one being with you hearing your sappy voice and attitude, anything to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay.

“so happy, you don’t even know, baby,” the nickname came to you as a shock, but it didn’t felt wring hearing it from jj. if anything, you wanted to make him say it again. “i’m just so— oh my god, so happy. i’m your boyfriend, you’re my girlfriend— oh, bliss!”

you couldn’t help the laugh that bursted from you as jj’s voice doubled in volume. “i have a girlfriend! and she really likes me!” jj’s speaker managed to get the sound of what sounded like a crowd cheering at his embarrassing announcement, making you chuckle even further.

“alright, hands off the phone, okay— john b, take him, please? before he announces more details about yn?” another voice took over the call, and by the way the boy, who you now know is john b, responded with a ‘yes, ma’am’, you assumed it was sarah who came to the rescue.

“hey, sarah,” you greeted her. “having fun?”

“oh, we are, but no so much for jj tomorrow.”

“i can imagine, you’d think he’ll be able to live with that?” you joked.

“babe, he has no choice,” sarah responded with a laugh. “but for now, john b’s taking him back to the château to properly conk out.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“so,” she started and you already picked up the teasing tone in her voice.

“so?” you chuckled, amused at her.

“still unsure of visiting your hopeless boyfriend? was his very public and loud declaration of love for you enough?”

you hugged the nearest pillow, a warm smile spreading across your face. you felt a lot more at ease and mind solely focused on jj. “it’s enough.”

thoroughfare taglist: @yumwhy @beeskisses @callieyanderechan @udpoota @vivian-555 @popesbby @whatisoutside @roryology @readinghoes @mytimeiswaiting @marleymarleymarleymarley @urmotherlvr @fruitcakerafe @bobobellabo @max23b @mirellef2001 @bearbear21 @cassiewritessalot @baocean @ayy1234567 @lmaowhatt @scaroooos @mbella607 @dylsdaily @1mcrazybutcute

big apologies to the peeps that wanted to be tagged but aren’t here cuz i might’ve missed yall bc and for the people that are written on here but weren’t notified pls refer to this post :)

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anxiouslittlecarrot · 2 days ago

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YES!! I write fics and I live in fandom because I’m autistic and I’m lonely, I want friends, I crave validation not for my ego but for who I am. I want to talk about the things I love with people who also love them, who are genuinely interested in them, who will tell me their thoughts on them. It’s really hard for me to connect with people, but it’s so easy for me to tell a writer everything I love about their new chapter, and I get so excited when they reply to my comments! That’s mainly why I want my readers to comment on my fics—because I want to connect. I want to know them.

A comment to me is a virtual wave and smile, not virtual applause. Fandom is a neighbourhood, not a warehouse. Sure, I’d like to know if I wrote well, I have anxiety and impostor syndrome, but that’s not the point.

It feels weird to have people just consume your stories/art/thoughts and leave because they weren’t created for consumption, were created for enjoyment, sharing. There’s humanity and warmth missing. It feels like our creations, creations that carry parts of our souls, have just been used. Even with kudos like sure, I love getting kudos, but it’s too objective, cut and dry, impersonal. I want to know what you liked, what you resonated with and why, so that for a little while in this confusing and hectic life my soul reaches out from within and touches yours and we say “Me too!”

feedback and fic in fandom (3 f's of our own)

This conversation about feedback on fic says everything I’ve been wanting to say better than I could say it. But I’ll go ahead and try anyway.

Over the last five years or so there have been some great discussions around the rise of commodification of fanworks and decline of fandom community. This commodification looks a bit like enshittification of the internet: a cool site exists; its popularity makes someone realize they can get money from it; it has more and more ads; the site adds features to drive engagement, including The Algorithm; the things that made the site cool start to fall away. The site exists now as a vehicle purely to get clicks, and the people on it are on it solely to get clicks—to make money, to be successful, for some kind of social cachet.

AO3 doesn’t have advertisements. It’s not making money. But what is happening to fandom is proof of concept that enshittification changes the way we as humans engage. A cool website in 2004 was often a community space where you could meet people, have conversations, find cool things, and make cool things. A cool website in 2024 is either a content farm that will continually feed you enough content to hold your attention, or a social media site where your participation will come with stats to show you whether you are holding the attention of others.

AO3 wasn’t built to be a community space. It doesn’t have great functions for meeting people and having conversations. The idea was that, because fandom community spaces already existed, AO3 would serve the part of that community where you can find the cool things and store the cool things you made. It was meant to be a library in a city, not the whole city itself.

But it was also never meant to be a website in 2024, a content farm constantly generating content solely for your clicks and eyeballs and ad revenue, or a social media site where the content creators themselves vie for your clicks and eyeballs.

The most common talking point when people discuss the enshittification of fandom is the folks out there who are treating AO3 as that first kind of enshittified website: the content farm. This discussion is about how people treat fanfic as a product for consumption.

The post that kicked off the discussion on @sitp-recs’s blog was about someone who wasn’t getting very many kudos or comments on their fic, and was feeling pretty demoralized about it, then joined a discord server and found an entire channel dedicated to people loving their fic. But those on that server had never come to share that love with the author, which the author found really discouraging.

There are more and more stories like this. Someone on tiktok pulls a quote from a fic on AO3 and makes a 10-second video with them staring at a wall, the quote pasted at the bottom, music playing over it. It has 100,000 hearts, and 100 comments with people gushing over the fic, which has 80 kudos on AO3. Overall, people notice more and more hits on their fics, but fewer and fewer comments or even kudos. Fewer and fewer people seem to feel the need to interact with the author, instead treating the fic like a product to be used and discarded—which the enshittified internet (a stunning feature of late-stage capitalism!) encourages. The fandom community is dying, these stories conclude.

I agree. 100%. Both of the stories above have happened to me—viral tiktoks about my fic, secret discord channels to follow and discuss my fic—and let me tell you, it fucking sucks.

But from these observations about fandom enshittification, the discussion continues in a very odd direction. The solution to the death of fandom community is our favorite enshittification buzzword: engagement. We should engage the authors. They’re producing these products for free. We consume them at no cost. We must demonstrate our gratitude by paying them back.

It’s as though the capitalist consumption that the enshittified web encourages is so ingrained within us that we must think in terms of payment, in terms of exchange, transaction. Or as though, by forgoing payment, authors are some kind of martyrs defying capitalism, and the only way to honor their great sacrifice is comments and kudos.

Indeed, the discourse around this sometimes does veer away from capitalist rhetoric into something that smells almost religious in desperation. Authors are gods who bestow us mere mortals with the fruits of their labor benevolently, through love; the least we can do is worship them. Meanwhile the authors adopt the groveling sentiment of starving artists: I produce great art; I only humbly ask that you feed me in return.

These kinds of entreaties make my skin crawl for a number of reasons. I’m not a god. I’m not writing because I love you. I don’t expect your worship or even your praise.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about it is that it suggests that authors (or, if the OP is feeling generous fan work creators) are the most important people in fandom. I’ve even seen posts stating that without creators, fandom wouldn’t exist—as though readers aren’t just as important. As though conversations where people discuss characterizations and plot points and randomly spin out interpretations and ideas and thoughts related to canon are meaningless. I’ve even seen people scramble to include folks having these discussions as “creators,” as though realizing that these people are necessary and integral to fandom communities but unable to drop the idea that the producers are the ones who are important. As though that person who just lurks can never count.

Is this what community is? When you join the queer community, are you expected to produce a product of your queerness? If not, must you actively participate and give back to the queer community in order to be considered a part of it? Or is it enough that you are queer, that you exist as a queer person and want to be around others who are queer, you want to be a part of something? What is community, anyway?

The problem with people raising the authors above everyone else in the community and demanding that tribute be paid is that they are decrying the “content farm” style of 2024 website out of one side of their mouth, but out of the other side are instead demanding that AO3 become a 2024-style social media website. Authors are influencers. “Engagement” and clicks are the things that really matter. They are in fact suggesting that the way to solve the commodification of fanfic is by “paying authors back” with stats.

Before anyone comes at me with the idea that comments aren’t just “stats,” I will clarify what I mean. There are literally hundreds of posts on tumblr alone claiming that any comment “helps” the author. Someone replies that they are shy to comment. Someone else replies that incoherent keyboard smashes, a single emoji, or the comment “kudos” are all that is required to satisfy the author, all that is required as tribute—all that is required as payment to keep this economy healthy.

I’m not condemning the comments that are keyboard smashes or emojis or a single kind word. I receive them. They make me happy. If anyone wants to leave such a comment on my fics, I’m really grateful for it. But this is not community-building. This is a transaction. In @yiiiiiiiikes25’s excellent response in the post linked at the beginning, they point out that “you have a cool hat” is something that is “perfectly nice” to hear from someone—and it is! We all want to be told we have a cool hat! But as they go on to say, what builds community is interactions that are deep and specific, interactions that are rich in quality, not in quantity. A kudos or a comment that says only ❤️are lovely things to receive, but they don’t build community.

My reaction, when I see people begging for kudos and comments as the only means by which to keep fandom community alive, is very close to @eleadore's. I want to say, “No. Readers do not need to comment or kudos. Believe not these hucksters who claim to know the appropriate method of fandom participation. Participate as you feel able, or not at all; nothing is required of you.”

I’ve been told before (several times) that I’m not qualified to participate in such discussions because I am an established author who has some fics with very high stats. It doesn’t matter that I have also been a new writer with almost no one reading my fics. It doesn’t matter that I still write in new fandoms where no one in that fandom knows me. It doesn’t matter that I, like any human being, still care about receiving recognition and attention and praise.

And maybe that’s correct. I personally don’t think that billionaires have a place in deciding the direction of the economy, and--if we're really going to consider fandom an economy--in fandom terms, if I’m not a billionaire, or even a millionaire, I’m definitely in the infamous “one percent.” So, just as no one wants to hear Elon Musk say “money isn’t everything,” maybe it’s not my place to say “kudos isn’t required, actually.”

That said, I’m not the only one who has a problem with the stats-based discourse around fandom community. However, the main counter-response to this discussion I see goes something like this: you shouldn’t be writing fic for validation. If you’re writing for attention, you’re doing it for the wrong reason. Authors should write fic because they love it without any expectation of return.

This is, in my opinion, missing the point of what is meant by fandom community.

I wrote fanfic before I knew that fanfic, as a concept, existed. I read books; I wanted them to be different; I wrote little stories for myself with new endings, with self-inserts, with cross-overs, with alternate universes. I did it for myself in the 90s. It never occurred to me that anyone else would do this, much less that people would share.

As @faiell points out—creating and sharing are two different things. I created fics for myself, but I decided to share them in the early 2000s because other people might like them, too. And of course, I wanted to hear whether other people liked them. How could I not? I might decorate my home just for me and not for anyone else’s preferences, but when people come over and say my house is nice, how can I not enjoy that? And if a lot of people think my house is nice, which encourages me to post pictures of it online, isn’t it understandable I might do so with the hope that more people will say my house is nice? And, honestly, if no one is appreciating my pictures, I probably won’t continue to go through the trouble of taking them and posting them. I’ll just enjoy my house that I decorated without sharing, the end.

When I found out there were whole fannish communities where people discussed canon and tossed ideas around about it, made theories and prompts and insights into the characters, fics they had written and recs for other fics and analyses of fics and art based on fics and fics based on art—I wanted to be a part of that, too. Now, sometimes, I write fic not out of an internal need to do so but out of a desire to participate in that community.

The idea that we write fic only for the love of it, then post it only because we possess it, is a process entirely centered on the self. It’s fandom in a vacuum. The idea that we share this thing, that we feel pleasure if someone likes it but feel nothing at all if no one says anything about it, that it’s completely okay to be ignored and unseen—that’s not what a community is either. That’s some weird sort of self-aggrandizement through self-effacement—because yes, there is often a weird kind of virtue-signaling in this kind of discourse.

I say this as someone who has virtue-signaled in that way: “some people write for stats, but I write for myself.” It’s bullshit. Sure, I write for myself, but why post it on the internet? Honestly, said virtue has a whiff of the capitalist machine, which would like you to produce for the sake of production, work for the sake of work. The noblest among us expect no recompense for that which they give!

The reason that I’m bringing this back around to capitalism is that capitalism actively works to dismantle community. The reason that folks are out here pleading for “engagement” in order to “pay back” authors for the products they give us “for free” is because people no longer even have the language to discuss how to participate in meaningful community. And frankly, how to build back fandom community, in the face of enshittification, is getting harder and harder to see.

But I do think that if we value fanfic and the fanfic community, it’s really, really not constructive to judge whether someone’s reasons for writing fanfic are valid. It’s also weird to me that it would be considered wrong that someone’s reason for sharing fanfic is because they would like to receive some recognition for it, when in fact that seems to be the most natural reason in the world for sharing something so private and vulnerable with the world.

Let’s go back to that idea of how hurtful it is to find out your fanfic is trending on tiktok without anyone from tiktok saying anything to you about your fic, or how it can be painful to find out there’s a secret discord channel dedicated to your fic. The people who respond to that with, “Ah, but you shouldn’t be writing to get attention!” are missing the point. The fic did get attention. It got lots. Attention obviously wasn't why the writer was writing--they were writing to participate, and they didn't get to. At all.

However, if your conclusion is that the author was upset because these particular stats were not accruing under this author’s profile, thereby preventing them from achieving the vaunted status of BNF and influencer—I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But I don’t think that’s why I, personally, have been hurt by these things, and I doubt it’s what hurt the people in these posts either. They’re hurt because they want to participate, and they have been systematically excluded by the very people they thought were part of the community they thought they could participate in.

Sure, if those folks from tiktok and the discord server all came and showered the author with kudos and comments that said “kudos,” the author might have felt satisfied enough with the quantity of this recognition that they would continue writing. But in the end, this still does nothing to address the problem of fandom community, in which the deep, meaningful recognition, interactions, and relationships in fandom are getting harder and harder to have and to build, as a result of how people now expect to engage in online spaces.

So, how to address the problem of fandom community? You probably read this long, long post hoping that I had an answer, and for that I must apologize. I don’t have solutions. My intent was to be descriptive, rather than prescriptive. I wished to outline the problems that I’m seeing in what was hopefully a slightly new or at least thought-provoking way, rather than offer solutions.

But, now that I’m talking about being prescriptive, maybe I can offer one suggestion, which is—maybe the solution to this isn’t about prescribing behavior. I do understand the irony in writing a prescription saying we shouldn’t prescribe people, but I’m going to write it anyway:

Maybe we shouldn’t be telling anyone the appropriate reasons for writing fanfic or for sharing it. Maybe we shouldn’t be telling readers they need to kudos or need to comment. If we’re going to go pointing fingers, we should be pointing at the institutions of capitalism that have made the internet what it is today—but I don’t think that’s going to solve the problem either.

But I do think that describing this problem, understanding what it actually is, not blaming readers for it and not blaming authors for it—I do think that helps. The discussion I linked at the beginning of this post is what I think of as the fandom I miss, the fandom that's now harder and harder to access, the fandom that is dying. That fandom was a social space where people had opinions and disagreed and went back and forth and gazed at their navels and then talked about Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

In the words of @yiiiiiiiikes25, it was a fuckin’ discussion about hats. And we’re hungry for it.

#fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #comment culture

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remedyturtles · 1 day ago

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10 with Leo and Raph would be so interesting. (Thought I can't really picture either of them saying somthing that mean to eachother, so maybe mystics are involved?)

I hope you have a nice day!

great minds think alike y'all. thanks @bluemoonsymphonies and anon for the prompt! i hope u both enjoy....

wordcount 1k, pre-movie

10. "Please... what am I doing wrong?" "What aren't you doing wrong?!"

Leo’s throat hurt.

Just add it to the list of bullshit that Raph was doing to him. Because there was absolutely no reason that Raph had to come and interrupt him while he was snoozing on the bean bag. Like, this lecture could’ve totally waited until later. Maybe after Leo had gotten some fucking sleep.

“You’re not taking this seriously!” Raph said.

“You could not be more of a broken record if you tried, Rapha.” Leo hadn’t gotten up from the bean bag and suffocated a yawn into his fist. He was tired of the grating arguments and he was tired, just bone tired of the fighting for no reason. And tired in general. Because his head was so loud and when he laid down to sleep there was just… screaming there too.

“That’s because you’re not listening to me.” Raph poked him right between the eyes. “I gotta drill it in that empty head somehow.”

Leo twitched. That was a bit harsh, especially since it wasn’t a gentle poke. He was feeling a little ganged up on and crawled out of the bean bag to stand his ground, crossing his arms. “Yeesh, tell me how you really feel.”

“I think you’re lazy and unmotivated.” Raph scoffed. “We’ve got so much we could be doing and you’re sleeping in the middle of the day.”

Leo… paused. Stared at his brother with a bit of hurt shock. He was really coming at him, no holds barred. He held up his hands in surrender and said, “And wow, I think you’re a huge jerk. What the hell, dude? For your information, I barely slept last night, so get off me.”

Something flickered in Raph’s eyes. But it didn’t stay. He scoffed again, louder and more derogatory, raising up his lip to sneer with his snaggletooth. “You’re not even trying.”

“Wow.” Leo repeated. Hands still raised, skin goosebumping, a chill from the undisguised scorn. This was different from the usual annoyed arguing. This was … mean. “Okay. Please, let's hear it. What am I doing wrong, then?”

“What aren't you doing wrong?” Raph spat back, chest heaving. Genuine anger sung hot and heavy.

Leo stared. This sounded a lot like the inside of his own head. Which didn't make sense, because that wasn't Raph. He pushed and he pushed but he was never like this. Not his Raph. Not his lovable big lug of a brother who truly only wanted the best for all of them.

“Nothing to say?” Raph tilted his head to the side. His eyes were rather blank, now that Leo was making painful eye contact with him.

“Are you feeling okay?” Leo prompted.

Raph blinked rapidly, surprised, then shook his head. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who's a problem here."

"Yeah, something is definitely wrong." Leo stepped forward, cataloguing other symptoms as he went. "You give me a hard time, you piss me off, and you nag me. But you're never, ever mean. So what gives?"

Raph was sweating. Not any of his usual sweat, not a scent Leo could pinpoint with scary accuracy. Something unheard of. When Leo got closer, he could see the pin-pricked pupil and too-quick breathing. He practically growled at Leo as he got close.

"Relax." Leo smiled, charming, getting another step closer to the lion's den. Flickering his gaze over Raph to try and find some kind of clue. "I get you, I know you want me to try, etc etc. But you wouldn't just brush past me telling you I hadn't slept, because you know I hate being honest about that. You'd be beating my ass with a pillow to go to bed then and try again in the morning. So either you've been possessed by a demon or cursed. Which is it?"

"I'm not –" Raph lurched forward.

But Leo had already spotted it. He pinched the little bug between his thumb and forefinger and pulled – a parasitic scarab bit down into the skin of his neck. The moment it left Raph's body, the little pincers wiggled agitatedly in the air, and Leo surveyed the bug with a distasteful eye.

Raph inhaled sharply, hand flying to his neck, and took two staggering steps backwards. He breathed, "What the fuck."

Leo waved the evil little beetle at him. "Did you piss off someone? Maybe walk through a magical rainforest?"

"I – I – " Raph's face morphs into one of pure horror. "I'm so sorry."

"Aw, buddy." Leo opened a portal and flicked the beetle through it, sending the fucker to the moon. Then he waved it away and opened his hands in offer. "It's okay. I know you better than that."

Raph scooped him up in a hug so tight it took his breath away. He squeezed and squeezed and Leo bore it with the patience of someone who'd been a teddy bear for this man many a time.

"It's okay." Leo mumbled to him.

"Not really." Raph replied, miserable.

"You didn't mean it." Leo shrugged.

The arms around him tightened. Raph shuddered a breath.

"Okay, maybe you meant it a little bit." Leo amended, because it wasn't like this conversation was new. Just the vitriol at which he spat it. "But bud, I know you're not coming at me to hurt me. I'd never think that. You're literally doing this because you want me to be my best. I'm not stupid. I'm just really, really good at acting like it."

Raph pulled back enough to show his red eyes. "Then why won't you work with me here?"

Leo couldn't say, because I'm scared my best isn't good enough. Instead he pat his big brother's arm and said, "Let's get you checked out and make sure that beetle didn't cause any lasting effects, hey?"

"Leo–" Raph growled.

Too late. Leo eeled out of his grip and danced away, waving over his shoulder. "Come on, chop chop, I don't have all day you know."

Raph… sighed. And followed, shoulders hanging.

#rem askbox #ask game #rem fic

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mymindisneverhere · 3 days ago

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FAVORS (9)

Part Nine

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, explicit language, lots of dialogue, (forgive me if I missed any)

heads up: 10.6k word count

Masterlist

*1 Year Later*

“30 minutes until we open the doors Ms. MacArthur.” The waitress announced, knocking on the door to get Khloé’s attention.

“Thank you Jess!” Khloé nodded and returned her attention back down to her hands.

Khloé stared at the framed document she held in her hands. A small smile on her face as she eyed the certificate that had her name signed in bold font.

St. Claire Culinary Institute

Associate of Arts

“Khloé Rose MacArthur”

She had done it. After all of those long nights spent studying, learning new techniques, preparing all sorts of dishes, she had finally received her Degree in Culinary Arts. A feeling of pride overcame her as she continued staring at her degree.

She hung it up right above her office desk that sat in the very back of the restaurant. With just a few more minutes until her grand opening, she was completely content sighing in satisfaction as she took a seat in the large office chair.

Khloé had dedicated one whole year to getting her life on track to where she wanted it to be. Enrolling into culinary school once again, her credits from the years before rolling over into a new semester helped her to get her degree as soon as she could. She joined her local yoga and pilates classes and spent time with the ones who understood her most, her father and her sister. Dedicating time and energy to the ones who poured into her the most had done her justice. This was just the reset she needed.

The night she cried herself to sleep was an awakening for her. Everything didn’t necessarily fall into place right away but she knew she didn’t want the rest of her life to go the way it had been going. She had been clear on what she wanted from here on out. A life full of no regrets and genuine happiness.

Although she had made it clear to her sister that she was done dating, Kandance still did what she could to convince Khloé to get back into dating again. Kandace respected Khloés commitment to achieving her goals but she knew how badly Khloé desired to be loved by the “perfect” man.

“I’m not interested in dating right now Kandace.”

“I’m focused on myself right now, I don’t have time for men.”

This was her response each time Kandace would bug her about her dating life. No matter how hard Kandace tried, Khloé didn’t budge. She was completely caught up in herself. Everyday she woke up, she made sure to do something that would get her closer to where she wanted to be and after twelve months of hard work and some financial help from her father she was preparing to open up her first place.

Khloé spent everyday searching for the right chefs, the perfect waiters and waitresses and the perfect hostess to help run her restaurant. After months of research she had finally crafted the perfect crew and she was ready to launch the grand opening of her place, “The Velvet Rose”.

“Everything is set and ready to go Ms. MacArthur.” Olivia stated, entering Khloés office.

Olivia had been the last person on her list to receive an apology that was well overdue. She had to admit to her that although she didn’t want to hear any of what Olivia had said to her when she came to her apartment just a year ago, she needed that wake up call. They sat and talked about the last few years they spent with each other and how they wanted the years to come to be.

Olivia listed her demands to Khloé stating that she no longer wanted to be treated as if she was beneath her. Olivia wanted to feel equal to Khloé not because of Khloés status but because of the relationship that they had with each other. She had been there for all of Khloés terrible breakups, bad business moves and constant arguments with her family. Olivia felt she deserved to be treated with respect and Khloé agreed without fuss. After everything was said and done, Khloé asked Olivia to be her restaurant manager and Olivia gladly accepted.

“Liv I told you, you don’t have to keep calling me that.” Khloé said. “You’re the manager, we’re a team.”

“I know, but it bothers you so I’ll keep doing it.” Olivia joked, sticking her tongue out before leaving the office.

Khloé rolled her eyes and stood from her seat. Turning to step in front of the full body mirror she kept against the office door, stared at her reflection in the mirror. The gold dress she wore was specifically picked by her to help go with the theme of her restaurant. Her hair was pressed straight and tucked behind her ears, giving her a simple yet elegant look. The blonde highlights her stylist suggested meshed well with her skin tone and her attire for the night.

She smiled at her reflection and took a deep breath before leaving her office and entered the dining area of the restaurant. The place was decorated with small tables near the entrance for the parties of two, large booths along the center wall for parties of four to six and a large table at the very back for even larger parties. Warm shades of gold and bright white filled the room as she walked through, inspecting each corner of the restaurant. The walls were covered in golden dim lights that gave the space a romantic and cozy feel.

Each table had a small candle in the center along with a few white roses in a vase, to further embrace the romantic ambience Khloé wanted to spread throughout the entire eatery. Large bouquets of white roses sat right at the entrance with a smaller version decorating the hostess podium. The place had Khloés luxurious taste written all over, topping it off with a live jazz band dressed in all white attire.

“Attention everyone!” Khloé announced, causing the crew to stop what they were doing and look her way.

The small group of waiters and waitresses stood in front of her dressed in white dress shirts, black ties and dress pants with small aprons around their waists. Two hostesses dressed in white dresses and pumps to match stood side by side awaiting her announcement.

The kitchen chefs, along with the head chef, made their way from the kitchen and stood together, dressed in their uniforms slightly similarly to the waiters with their names embroidered on their shirts.

Khloé eyed her team proudly as they stood awaiting further instruction. Everyone looked as if they belonged, like they were a team. The uniforms and the color coordinated outfits tied the whole place together and Khloé couldn’t be more excited to let the guests experience the food and the atmosphere.

“There will be a full house tonight so I expect everyone to get all of their nerves out now because once those doors open, it’s showtime.” Khloé spoke, her voice full of authority but laced with just a hint of grace. “I want to thank you guys for being here with me. You could’ve gone anywhere else to share your talents but you chose to be here and for that I am forever grateful.”

The team nodded as they smiled to each other, truly excited for their opening night.

“Now, let’s have a great first night!” With that, everyone dispersed, taking their places and preparing for the crowd.

Khloé walked to the front doors with Olivia and took in her surroundings, feeling a large sense of gratitude as she admired the first thing she could actually call hers.

“They’re lining up outside Ms. MacArthur.” Olivia announced, staring out of the window at the line of people that traveled a mile down the sidewalk.

“Let them in.” Khloé stated proudly.

Olivia pushed the large doors open and within minutes people were filling the seats, looking over the menu for the night and ordering drinks. The room was filled with light conversation, greetings and soft jazz setting the tone for a grown and sexy feel.

The smooth sounds of a saxophone rang out into the room from up front as guests entered. The dress code was elegant and formal. There weren’t necessarily restrictions on what could and could not be worn however the ambience set the perfect tone for the attire.

Khloé had invited the most important people she knew to her big night. Her sister, her father, her aunts and uncles, popular influencers in the city, well known food critics and the most successful business owners in the town.

Getting the word out about her place was her number one goal but sharing her night with the ones she cared for most was right after. She slowly walked around the place, greeting each guest and thanking them for coming. She made her way to one of the tables suited for large parties where her family had taken their seats, laughing and conversing with one another.

“Princess!” Mr. MacArthur stood, placing a soft kiss on Khloé’s cheek and pulling her into a warm hug. “I am beyond proud of you, this place looks great.”

“Thank you daddy.” Khloé responded with a smile.

She spoke to the rest of her family, sharing laughs and small conversation until her eyes landed on an unfamiliar woman. Instantly spotting the resemblance, her breath caught in her throat as she eyed her.

“Khloé, this is my mother Katherine, mom this is my sister Khloé.” Kandace said.

“Oh my God.” Khloé gawked at the sight of the woman, practically sharing the same face as Kandace. Her beautiful bronze skin, her jet black hair and big beautiful smile just like her sister. “It is so nice to meet you.”

Katherine stood and hugged Khloé. “You as well Khloé, Kandace has told me so much about you. Congratulations honey!”

“Thank you.” Khloé said, placing a hand over her heart.

Khloé sat with her family expressing her gratitude and appreciation before getting up and visiting the guests once again, being sure to get their reviews on the food, the drinks and the service.

The night was going so smoothly. The room was filled with laughter, good music and amazing food. Olivia had suggested that Khloé should only serve a limited amount of items on the menu just to be sure that the wait wouldn’t be too long for the guests. Together they picked the special dishes that would give the guests some insight on what to expect from the restaurant's full menu once they had gone completely public.

From the looks of how things were flowing so effortlessly, that was the best idea for the night.

“Excuse me, if I could have everyone’s attention please.” Olivia’s voice echoed throughout the speakers as she held the microphone to her lips. “I’d like to bring the owner, Ms. Khloé MacArthur, up to the stage to say a few words.”

Everyone applauded as Khloé made her way to the front of the restaurant. The gold dress she wore shined under the soft lighting, accompanied by the beautiful honey blonde shade in her hair, she looked as if she was glowing. She carefully made her way up on the stage and grabbed the microphone from Olivia, clearing her throat before speaking.

“Good evening everyone and thank you all for coming to the grand opening of The Velvet Rose.” Applause filled the room as she smiled, slightly blushing from the attention she was getting.

“This has truly been a journey for me. If I'm honest this was probably the scariest thing that I’ve ever done in my life but it is the most gratifying. To see my vision, my dream come true in real time and to be able to share it with the most amazing people that I know is truly an honor for me. I hope you all enjoy the food, enjoy the drinks and the lovely music and again thank you so much for coming.”

With that Khloé returned the microphone to its stand and carefully walked down from the stage as the room erupted in applause once more. Before she could even make it to the floor Olivia had stopped her in her tracks.

“There’s a guest complaining about the valet parking outside, I think you may want to handle this.” Olivia spoke quickly, a bit of worry in her tone.

Khloé nodded and made her way to the front doors, pushing through them. Her head immediately snapped to the right where the parking lot was but the valet sat unbothered, not busy with anyone or any cars.

“I was hoping I could get a tour.“ The sound of his voice caused her heart to skip a beat. “That is if you have room for me on the guest list.”

She didn’t bother to turn around, she couldn’t turn around. Her feet were glued in place as she remembered the comfort that the voice had brought her so long ago. Her breathing began to increase as she mustered up the strength to turn and face him.

Finally swallowing the lump in her throat, she lifted her dress a bit and slowly turned around. They stood just a few feet away from each other but the impact of their presence was heavy for the both of them.

Terry stood there with a large bouquet of white roses in his hand. He was dressed in an all black tuxedo, a small chain hanging from his neck and a watch to match. His hair was freshly cut as was his goatee. He stood eyeing her with his bedroom eyes, noticing the expression in her face soften as she stared at him.

He walked to her, keeping his gaze on hers as he got closer to her. Each step he took, she thought her heart would beat out of her chest. Her eyes trailed down his body to his feet and back up to his face. He was still so damn fine, finer than he was when she left him in Summers' living room just a year prior.

“Hi.” Terry greeted, staring down at her.

“Hi.” Khloé stared up at him, instantly gaining all of the feeling she had neglected in the last year right in between her legs.

They sat in silence for a while before either one of them spoke again. Khloé was feeling too many things at once. She was already on a high from the opening of her restaurant and now standing in front of the only man she truly ever loved had her feeling like she was floating on a cloud.

“These are for you.” Terry smiled, handing her the roses.

“Thank you.” She smiled nervously, grabbing them before staring back up at him. “What are you doing here?” She instantly regretted asking that question, causing her to stumble over her words. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t happy to see him but she was still very curious as to why he was there.

“I mean not like, in a bad way, like I don’t want you to be here, but-“ She took a deep breath, calming her nerves before finishing.” I just didn’t expect to see you tonight or…”

“Ever?” Terry asked, finishing her sentence for her.

Khloé looked down at her feet contemplating what she would say next. The past twelve months were solely for her, not a man, not a friend, not her family, not even her mother but her. Although she would constantly tell her sister she wasn’t thinking about a man or dating whatsoever, she would secretly pray that one day she would be with him again.

However Khloé refused to force their connection so she avoided going to the warehouse, she never visited that part of town for anything and she decided not to visit Summer again because there was no need to.

Two months turned into four and then four turned into eight and she still had yet to cross paths with him so she accepted that maybe he wasn’t the man for her after all. She wanted to believe in fate similar to fairytale stories she read as a child. Believing that no matter where in the world you went or what conflict had taken place between man and woman, if they were meant to be together fate would magically merge their paths.

Khloé hoped she would run into him at a grocery store or the bank, somewhere they didn’t plan on seeing each other but somehow ended up at the same place, at the same time. When time passed and she had yet to run into her dream guy again, her belief in the fairytale began to fade. So becoming focused on herself became even easier because she had no more energy left to manifest such a cliché interaction.

But here he was standing in front of her on the biggest night of her life. Not because she paid him to be there or because “fate” brought them together but because he simply chose to be there.

“I bumped into your sister as I was leaving the warehouse at the Garland location.” Terry started. “She told me about this grand opening being hosted by you and I immediately thought ‘Wow, she did it.’”

Khloé blushed a bit at that last part.

“So I wanted to come and congratulate you in person.”

“Thank you Terry.” Khloé smiled.

“You’re welcome Ms. MacArthur.”

She blushed once more at the sound of that name on his lips. When Olivia said it, it reminded her of the years she treated Olivia like she was less than. When Terry said it, it reminded her of comfort and certainty, something she didn’t realize she had missed until now.

The two sat in an awkward silence both unsure of what to say next. Khloé felt a bit silly for being so nervous in front of a man that had seen her in every way imaginable. The longer she sat the more she wondered what life had been like for him in the last year. She could clearly see a difference in him. His look was different, his normal stern expression had slightly faded and he was dressed in a tuxedo. It was clear to her that he had gone through some sort of transformation as well.

“Wait, why were you at the Garland location? What happened to Greenville?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“I just accepted a new role there.” Terry began. “I started about three months ago.”

Khloé’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What position?”

“Senior Operations Manager.”

“Oh my God, that’s so good! I’m so happy for you!” She exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear. Her excitement caused him to chuckle a bit. “But that's a far drive from where you live, you commute an hour and a half everyday?”

“I moved about fifteen minutes away from the job not too long after I took the role.”

“Oh wow.” Khloé said. She stared up at him in astonishment. Here she was getting her life together, evolving in every way she could and so was he. “So much has happened since we last saw each other.”

“I don’t know if it’s too late for me to say this but-“ Terry started, placing a hand to the back of his head to calm his nerves. “I really missed you Khloé.”

Khloé’s breath caught in her throat at the admission. “I missed you too.”

“The day you left Summers place, it was hard for me to keep busy. I wanted to talk to you everyday but I didn’t want to interrupt your process or interfere with the time you needed so I decided to be patient.” He said, placing his hands in his pockets. “To be honest I was scared someone else had come into your life and it was too late for us to try again.”

“I was just trying to become the woman that I needed to be for myself. I thought that if we were supposed to be together, that somehow fate would bring us together and we would.” Khloé spoke softly. “I wanted to see you too but I didn’t know if I would be forcing it or not so I just decided against it.”

Terry nodded, a small moment of silence falling between the two of them again. He looked over to stare at the bright sign above Khloé’s restaurant, a way to avoid the awkwardness that fell between them. Khloé stared down at the ground wondering if she had said the wrong thing. It wasn’t like she had given up on them but at the same time she kind of did.

“Goodnight Khloé, the food was bomb girl! I’m gonna tag you on Instagram!” A woman announced as she exited the restaurant, a to-go container in hand.

Guests were beginning to leave one by one, complementing Khloé and congratulating her as they made their way to the valet.

“Thank you guys so much, come back and see us!” She said, waving as the last few guests left, leaving only her family in the restaurant.

She turned her attention back to Terry and saw the discomfort in his face. The man who was once so damn good at hiding his feelings was doing a terrible job at this moment.

“If you have some time, I’d love to show you the place.” Khloé suggested. “I can have my chef cook something for you, I wanna know what you think of the food.”

Terry looked down at her and smiled before walking over to the large doors and pulling it open for Khloé to enter. “After you.”

They made their way into the restaurant and she led him to the back of the seating area, a small booth sat clean and empty and they took a seat on each side. Khloé looked up at Terry as he maneuvered into the booth. She watched him as he took in his surroundings.

“This is really nice Khloé.” Terry looked around the place, admiring the interior. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, it took a while but we’re here.” Khloé said, placing the large bouquet of roses in the seat right next to her.

“I’m really proud of you Khloé.” He said, his eyes finally landing on hers.

“Thank you.”

“Terrance.” Mr. MacArthur called out, walking over to the booth they occupied. “It’s good to see you again son.”

“Mr. MacArthur, good to see you as well sir.” Terry stood, shaking the older man’s hand.

Khloé looked on in confusion as Terry and her father fell into casual conversation, catching up for lost time. The moment it was brought to her fathers attention that Terry was a worker, her dad called her later that evening to give her some words about the entire ordeal. Ones that weren’t that nice. So to see him conversing with Terry as if he was no longer bothered by it threw her for a loop.

“Congratulations on the senior position.” Mr. MacArthur said.

“Thank you sir, I appreciate it.” Terry grinned humbly.

“Keep it up and you’ll be coming for my spot next.” The two men laughed as Khloé continued to watch in confusion.

“We’re gonna head out princess, you enjoy your first night in your place.” Her father said bending down to kiss her forehead. “I’m proud of you. Call me when you make it home.”

The rest of her family stopped by the booth to greet Terry and say their goodbyes before exiting, leaving Terry and Khloé alone.

“Here you are sir, The Rosewood Rack comes with a rosemary crusted rack of lamb, a side of truffle mashed potatoes and garlic sautéed broccolini.” The waitress by the name of Jessica announced, placing the warm plates in front of Terry as she read off the chef's special. “And a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for you as well sir, enjoy.”

“Thank you.” Terry looked on with a slightly shocked expression on his face. “This entree describes you to a T.”

Khloé laughed as he dug into his food, taking small bites of each dish before giving her a review.

“This is delicious, honestly.” He said, not letting up from any of the food that sat in front of him. “I’m not even a lamb type of guy but this is good.”

“I’m so glad you like it.” She started, “I know how much you love a hearty meal so I wanted to make sure they prepared something that would satisfy you just right.”

Terry looked up at her as she said those last few words. The dim lighting, the candles, and the soft music that continued to play set the perfect mood for this moment after not seeing each other for a year. They jumped into long conversation, both informing the other about how life had been for the last twelve months.

Khloé began telling him about the aftermath that followed the dinner where the family secret was revealed. She went on to tell him about how her mother refused to take any accountability for what she had done to Katherine and that eventually she moved out of the family house.

Angela was convinced that everything she did was supposed to be done and there was no wrong in how she went about it. She was waiting for Khloé and John to come around begging for her forgiveness. However John was no longer interested in keeping up a facade for the sake of reputation. He had earned his living rightfully and there was nothing that would take away the love he had for his daughters or his business.

Khloé told Terry all about the time she spent in therapy, the long hours she spent studying and how much time went into securing her restaurant. She admitted to him that even during the times she was focusing on herself, her mind would always wander off to thoughts and memories of the two of them together. She wanted him to know that although she was truly working on herself, she still craved him in every way imaginable.

“Why not just come by the job?” Terry asked, genuine confusion written in his expression.

“I just kept feeling like I was forcing you to be with me and I didn’t want to do that. So I wanted to avoid you at all costs.” She admitted. “I had this weird belief that if we were meant to be then we’d cross each other's paths in a more authentic way.”

Terry nodded slowly, somewhat understanding her but not totally. While Khloé still believed in her fairytales, Terry was very much grounded in reality. Sometimes too grounded in reality, not allowing himself enough space to dream or remain optimistic about the possible relationship he could have with Khloé. He didn’t believe in living life on what ifs, he needed total security and if he didn’t have it then he would have to move on. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind always found its way back on Khloé.

Terry went on to tell her how moving up in the company was the best thing that had happened to him. The pay raise, the benefits and the business trips that came with the position, had him overwhelmed with gratitude. He let her know that at times he would become too busy, trying yet again to get rid of any memory he had of her. A simple attempt to protect himself from suffering a loss and not wanting to accept that she had completely moved on.

“But I’m not with anyone Terry, I did this for myself.” Khloé spoke honestly.

“I know but I guess I just thought that you’d either meet someone or you’d never want to be with anyone else ever again.” Terry said.

“Why did you think I wouldn’t want to be with anyone ever again?”

“Because the look on your face when you walked out on me, you didn’t look at me the same way you did before.” He stated. “It was like I could see a wall being built right at that moment. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get past it.”

Khloé stared at him and he stared back at her.

“You’ll always get past it.” She stated bluntly. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but everyone’s got a soft spot for someone. You happen to be my someone, just like I am for you.”

Terry’s eyebrows bent at the statement. He was determined to deny what she was saying because he didn’t think it was true whatsoever. Did he care for her deeply? Absolutely. But Terry could never allow himself to be soft for anyone.

“The way you tore into me back at my condo, the way you looked at me when I tried to touch you to prevent you from leaving, if you weren't soft for me you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be done with me.” Khloé started, “But you’re not because you can’t be.”

Terry stared at her as she continued talking.

“For a while I thought Summer was your soft spot but I realized she’s not. She is a safe space for you but she’s not the person who gets to push your buttons and still be loved by you.” She watched as his expression softened a bit. “I’m not the only one who tries to play tough Mr. Richmond.”

It had been a minute since he had heard her say his name like that. The sound of his name leaving her lips made him feel some things he hadn’t felt in a while. Noticing the slight change in his breathing, Khloé smirked as she grabbed his wine glass and took a sip. She had done the work to heal but the seductress in her could never leave, she just did a better job at taming it. Truth is, she would always enjoy seeing the effect she had on men in real time.

“You don’t drink anyway, you don’t need this.” Khloé said, a bit of her bossy attitude showcasing itself in a quick moment.

He felt his dick jump as he continued staring at her, watching the glass leave her lips as she tilted her head slightly. The instant memories of those same lips damn near bringing him to his knees had his eyes stuck on them. He didn’t want to be the guy who just popped back into her life hoping to get some but he couldn’t deny the way she was making him feel. It felt like meeting her all over again, getting lost in her lips, forgetting they were in the middle of a conversation.

“Cat got your tongue Mr. Richmond?” She asked, smirking at him.

His eyes darted back up to hers before responding. “No ma’am.” He said, watching her shift in her seat. Going from poised to bothered in a split second. She wasn’t the only one picking up on the small cues that were happening beyond their will.

“You missed me that much?” He smirked.

Khloé placed the wine glass on the table and leaned forward, placing her forearms over one another as she locked her eyes onto his.

“You wanna stay here all night or do you wanna find out just how much?” Khloé asked, her gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips.

The sounds of heavy breathing and light moans filled the room as they kissed each other, tripping over their feet, making up for all the time they lost. They had raced to Terry’s apartment and wasted no time falling into their usual rhythm once they shut the door. Terry swiftly pulled off his suit jacket and returned back to Khloé’s lips, backing her further into the apartment.

Khloé wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to get a better feel of his tongue on hers. Moaning into his mouth she stepped back as they continued tussling with each other's lips.

“Take this off.” Terry murmured in between kisses, yanking at Khloé’s dress.

“Unzip it.” She said, finally breaking their kiss and turning her back to him.

He quickly pulled the zipper down the back of her dress and watched it fall to the ground. Stepping out of it, she turned to him, dressed in only her underwear. Khloé wasn’t a shy woman but she was feeling herself shrink under his gaze once her body was exposed. However Terry’s usual stoic stare had shifted into desire as he studied her body, the one he hadn’t touched in so long.

She had gained a little weight but for Terry it had been in all the right places. Her hips were a bit wider and her thighs were thicker, the way her panties sat right at the base of her hips brought out every curve in her body. He was feening for her in the worst way and she didn’t even know how bad.

“Fuck I missed you.” He spat, crossing the room quickly. In one swift motion, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She pressed her lips against his, kissing and sucking on his tongue as he walked her into his bedroom. The view of the busy freeway provided a hint of light in the room as he laid her on the bed.

Reaching down to lift the long sleeve turtle neck he wore above his head, Khloé sat up and watched him as he came out of the sweater. Her eyes roamed over his torso, the sight of him alone had her growing wetter by the second.

‘Did he get bigger?’ She thought to herself, noticing the increase of muscle in his arms and strong definition in his chest.

He leaned down to kiss her once more, lightly pushing her onto her back. He placed kisses along her neck, the sounds of her moaning in his ear causing him to moan as well. Terry was moving fast, his hunger for her taking over as he roughly sucked on her neck.

“Terry wait.” She said as she let out a breath, placing her hands on his chest signaling for him to sit up.

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at her frowning, trying hard to read her expression.

“Nothing, it’s just,” She started, eyes darting around the room before landing on his. “I’m a bit nervous.”

Terry chuckled lightly, finding it hard to believe that the woman who enjoyed tying him up and draining him dry had become so nervous all of sudden. “I’ve already seen every part of you, what’s making you so nervous now?”

She took a deep breath and paused for a bit before finally saying the words, “I love you.”

The admission caught Terry off guard. He could sense her anxiousness as she stared up at him. The Khloé he was used to was fearless, there wasn’t anything that came out of her mouth with hesitation. The Khloe he knew didn’t stumble over her words or have a hard time finding them either. But this new Khloé was very different. Still her usual bossy self but a bit more cautious with her words and her tone of voice.

He could tell she was desperately waiting for his response as her eyes pieced into his. Her eyebrows bent slightly as she began to grow impatient.

“I love you too.” He finally responded, a heavy weight lifting off of his shoulders after holding onto that truth for so long.

Khloé’s eyes softened, her features relaxing and returning back to normal as she let out the breath she had been holding. She continued staring up at him without saying a word. There was a genuineness behind the words that left his lips. It didn’t feel like he was saying it just to lessen her worry or try to continue on with having sex with her. She could sense his relief as he spoke those same words back to her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked softly.

“No!” She answered a bit too quickly. “I don’t want you to just fuck me though. I guess I want…” She trailed off.

“Me to make love to you.” He finished.

She nodded her head. Placing a soft kiss on her lips, he slowly lifted off of the bed and held his hand out for her to take. She grabbed it and stood in front him. Turning her around, she faced the large window and closed her eyes, preparing to actually be handled with care for the first time.

Terry moved her hair to the side away from her neck and placed soft kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss was placed with purpose and intention. Her breath hitched as she felt his lips on her, the slow movement making her grow anxious with every touch. He made his way up to her neck and noticed her breathing stop. He knew she was nervous but he wanted to reassure her that there was no reason to be.

“Relax.” He suggested, his voice deep yet soft in her ear. “I got you.”

Letting out the breath she had been holding in, she slowly dropped her shoulders. She unclenched her jaw and closed her eyes, letting her head fall slowly against his chest. The feeling of his lips were slowly chipping at her nerves, eventually clearing them altogether.

He ran his hands across her stomach, pulling her deeper into him. The warmth of her body against his chest, the way she ran her fingers against his arms, felt serene for him. Still placing kisses against her shoulder, he dropped his hand into the crotch of her panties and dipped his finger in between her folds. She was so wet for him, she had been since they agreed to leave the restaurant and head to his place.

He ran his free hand up her torso and played with her nipple, rolling it in between his thumb and index finger. Khloés body pressed against his even more as she squirmed in his arms. He moaned in her ear, feeling her hips rub against his bulge.

“Terry…” She moaned above a whisper, feeling him play with her sensitive clit and nipples caused her to close her eyes.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, the question was obviously rhetorical but he loved to hear the eagerness in her voice.

“No.” She breathed out.

Terry continued kissing along his shoulders up her neck and stopped at her jaw. Her head moved effortlessly as he trailed up her neck, so caught up in the pleasure, she was almost melting into his arms.

He didn’t want her to cum just yet but he made sure to build her up just enough so that when he finally entered her, she’d be dripping like a faucet.

“Tell me how you want it.” He remembered how much she loved to be in charge, one of the many things he adored most about her. Increasing his speed purposely so she’d struggle as she answered the question.

“Ummm.” She moaned, eyes still rolling into her head as he pinched her nipples tightly, still working her clit over.

“Tell me baby.”

“S-stomach.”

He chuckled lightly at her stutter, feeling himself while he had her somewhat at his mercy. Finally pulling his fingers from her lower set, he pushed them into her mouth and watched as she sucked them, moaning from the taste of herself.

“You ready?”

Khloé nodded her head, still resting her weight against him. Turning them both so that they were facing the bed, he pushed her panties down to her ankles.

“Lay down.” He instructed.

She licked her lips and crawled onto the bed, laying flat on her stomach and resting on her elbows. He removed the thin fabric from around her ankles and tossed them before undoing his pants. Getting completely undressed, he crawled onto the bed, stopping to place kisses on the back of her thighs, up her ass and continued up her back. She bit her lip as she felt him against her skin, each kiss causing a soft moan to escape her lips.

Finally reaching the side of her face, he placed kisses along her jaw as he ran his dick against her wet entrance.

“Can you go slow please?” She asked softly, “It’s been a while for me.” She turned her head to meet his eyes, their faces just a few inches from each other.

“Yes ma’am.” He responded.

He ran his dick through her folds once more before pausing at her entrance. His eyes were glued to hers, not wanting to miss any of the expressions on her face no matter how big or small. Carefully pushing himself just a few inches into her, he watched as her jaw dropped, the sounds or her gasping loudly made him clench his jaw. He loved the faces she made whenever they had sex, they were so damn beautiful.

“Can I move?” He asked.

“Yes!” She moaned, a bit more aggressive than she intended.

Terry pushed himself all the way into her, pressing his hips flat against her ass. Both of his hands rested next to her elbows as he held himself up. He dropped his head onto hers taking in how tight she was, afraid he wouldn’t last as long as he planned to. She cooed as she felt all of him at once, inhaling deeply as he held himself in place.

Lowering himself onto his elbows, he wrapped his arms around hers and intertwined their fingers. He rolled his hips slowly, giving her long strokes, as he dropped his chin into the crook of her neck.

Khloé’s eyes rolled as her brows lifted, the side of her face was pressed against his, feeling his lips brush against her jaw. She was in total bliss feeling him for the first time in a long time. The way he thrusted in and out of her sent small shocks throughout her body every time he rubbed up against her spot. She moaned loudly, tightening the grip she had on his hands. He maintained his slow and steady strokes, kissing her cheek as he tried to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“I missed you so much.” She cried, dragging her words as her jaw continued to fall open.

“I missed you too baby.” He replied.

She continued to repeat herself over again, unable to mutter any new words due to the feeling of ecstasy invading her body. Her voice was doing a number on him, causing him to thrust into her even harder, increasing the pressure with each stroke. The harder he dug into her, the more vocal she became and this wasn’t helping him one bit. Cursing to himself, he pulled out of her, quickly stopping himself before he came too early.

“Fuck.” He spat.

Grabbing her hips, he flipped her on her back and smashed his lips into hers. She ran her hands down his face as they fell back into their usual rhythm with their tongues. Without warning, Terry pushed into her, every inch filling her suddenly until he couldn’t push any further. She could feel the pressure deep within the pit of her stomach, he was so big.

Khloé moaned into his mouth, eventually giving up on the kiss because multitasking wouldn’t be easy for her to do at the moment. Pulling out of her with only his tip inside, he returned to giving her long strokes, this time a bit faster than before.

He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulders and left the other on the bed. His eyes were locked onto hers as he dug into her, watching as they began to roll into her head. He took her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it gently before he pulled back.

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and focused them back on his. He stared down at her intently, studying her eyes with every stroke he gave her. Her eyebrows curled inward from the feeling brewing in the lower part of her stomach. The look in his eyes translated the emotion she had been dying to see in them since she first met him. His usual stoic expression had completely vanished.

Terry looked at her with pure adoration and genuine love expressed in his hazel eyes. Every bit of his movement had intention, he wanted to be sure that she could feel his love for her as he pleased her for the first time in over a year.

The way he rocked his hips into hers caused her to push up the bed slightly. He grabbed onto her hips and held her in place, still digging deep into her. She gasped, letting her eyelids fall low, desperately waiting for the orgasm to take over her body.

“Don’t close ‘em, look at me.” He demanded softly, his voice just above a whisper.

“I-“ Khloé started, opening her eyes once again. Her eyebrows lifted a bit as they stared at each other.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, still thrusting into her. He was aware of the effect his dick was having on her, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“It feels so good.” She whined.

Khloé had always enjoyed sex, particularly being fucked but she had yet to experience sex that included passion and intimacy. She was feeling so many things at once. Not only the feeling in between her legs that traveled to the pit of her belly but also the affection behind it. There was no competition to see who would make who fold first. The only goal was to translate the feelings he had for her through this moment they had both been secretly waiting for.

“You love me?” Terry asked, placing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips.

“Yes!”

“I can’t handle you leaving me again.” He said honestly.

“I won’t leave!” She cried.

“Tell me you’re stayin’!” He could feel her getting wetter the more he spoke to her. It was only a matter of time before she would be cumming all over him and that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’ll stay!” She moaned loudly.

He kept placing kisses against her cheeks before dropping his head to the side of her face, pressing his lips against her ear. “You promise?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” She yelled, digging her manicured fingernails into his back. She clawed at him, attempting to pull him in closer as she came, her nails leaving small marks against his skin. “I’m cummin’!”

She held onto each him tightly, moaning and cursing loudly. Khloé’s legs shook around his waist while he continued stroking, making sure to get all of her. The sloshy sounds of her cumming on his dick had him pressing even harder into her.

“Fuck, yessss!” She cried, marking his back up while she came.

“I love you.” He said into her ear, finally pausing his movements to allow her body to carry out the rest of her climax.

Her breath hitched as she embraced every emotion all at once. Still keeping her nails in his back she stared up at the ceiling as her breathing slowly returned to normal. Terry sat up and placed kisses against her cheek, noticing the tear that fell from the corner of her eye.

“Say it.” Terry commanded.

“I-I love you t-too.” She spoke in between breaths, body still feeling the effects of her orgasm.

Terry kissed her softly along her jaw and neck until her body had completely returned to its relaxed state. Khloé finally looked up at him with heavy eyes. Usually she’d be the one causing a K.O. with her partners but it was her turn to receive all of that pleasure and more… and she did just that.

Khloé’s head rested against Terry’s chest as the two of them laid together. He held onto her, arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she ran her thumb against the thin hairs on his chest. They laid like this in silence, soaking up the presence of one another, not wanting to let go of the other anytime soon.

“Can I ask you something?” Khloé said, breaking the silence.

“Of course.”

“Does this mean we’re officially together or was this just a spur of the moment? You know, because we hadn’t seen each other in a while?” She was somewhat nervous about the answer.

Although Terry didn’t seem like the type to just hit it and go on like nothing happened, she still needed to know where they stood with each other.

“I meant what I said.” Terry started. “I can’t handle not being with you. Your presence alone fills me up. I want to know what’s going on with you at all times. I want to know when you’re upset, when you’re happy, when you’re scared, when you’re confused. I don’t wanna be without you again.”

Khloé sat listening to him go on about how much she meant to him, every word securing her in the role she played in his life. She felt herself smiling against his chest, happy to hear that she was as important to him as he was to her.

“Well you can’t get angry with me and shut me out for weeks at a time, I wanna know what you’re thinking too.” She spoke honestly. “Even if you’re not in the mood to talk, at least telling me that will make me feel better. I don’t wanna feel shut out by you again.”

“I got you. However, you also have to talk to me Khloé. You can’t just make assumptions about how I’m feeling and let your emotions make decisions for you.” He said, rubbing his hand against her hips.

“It won’t happen again.” She said in a soft voice.

“But above all, you’re mine and I’m yours, anything you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

She sat up and rested on her chin as she looked at him “You promise?”

“I promise.” He responded with a kiss on her forehead.

“Good, I’m ready for round two. It’s my turn.” She said, cutting straight to the chase. She lifted up from his hold and straddled his waist, preparing to ride him until the sun came up.

Terry chuckled to himself appreciating the fact that after all this time, her sex drive never wavered.

“Yes ma’am.”

Terry sat in his office, wrapping up his last zoom meeting before heading home for the day. The end of the months were always the busiest for him. Business calls, payroll, month end stats and having to prepare for the beginning of a new month. The only thing on his mind was having a nice meal after handling so much within eight hours of his work day.

*Knock Knock*

“Come in.” He announced without looking up.

“Are you busy Mr. Richmond?” The familiar voice spoke, causing him to let out a quiet sigh of annoyance before responding. His name on her tongue just didn’t hit the same as it would when Khloé said it.

“Yes I am, do you need something Nia?” He asked dryly, raising his brows as he looked up at her.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner tonight?” She asked, walking further into his office. “My treat.”

Nia had completely taken over Khloés job at the warehouse but not because she genuinely loved the family business. She wanted the man that came with it of course. There was never a day that went by that Nia wouldn’t find a reason to speak with Terry, even if it was something as small as the weather for the day.

“The answer is still no Nia, but thank you.” He said, turning his attention to his computer.

“Why do you play so damn hard to get?” Nia spat. She walked closer to his desk, leaning over the folders that laid across the top of it. “I know you like ‘em feisty, I know you like ‘em pushy and I know you like ‘em to be dominant. That's why you were with Khloé except she’s a fraud and I’m not. So what is it? You afraid of a real woman, Mr. Richmond?”

Terry kept his eyes on his computer not bothering to further entertain Nia and her constant attempts at getting with him.

“You tired ass bitch!” The voice shot through the room, causing Nia to spin around and Terry to snap his head in the direction it came from.

Terry looked down at his watch, panicking once he realized he was supposed to meet Khloé outside so they could head to dinner together. He stood from his desk and quickly walked over to her.

“I’m sorry baby, I had all of those meetings and I lost track of time.” He said, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Khloé’s eyes never left Nia as Terry tried to pull her in for another kiss.

“Give us a minute.” She spoke dryly, ignoring Terry’s attempt.

“But this is my office.” He said, jerking his head back a bit in confusion.

Khloé looked up at him, the expression alone sending him the message loud and clear. Terry threw his hands up in defeat as he walked over to grab his cell phone and keys from the top drawer in his desk.

“I’ll be outside.”

Khloé stood there, LV hanging from her fingertips as she stared at Nia, disdain written on both of their faces. This was a standoff that had been well overdue. Between Nia's backhanded attempts to ruin her relationship with her mother and her relation with Terry, Khloé had waited for the right moment to deal with Nia face to face.

As pathetic as Nia was, she remained persistent. Ruining Khloé’s relationship and spilling her business at the dinner table wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to put the nail in the coffin and Terry was her way to do it. The only problem was, he never paid her any attention unless it was strictly work related. After all of those failed attempts here she stood face to face with her competition who wasn’t even aware that they were competing with one another.

“I could’ve sworn you were done faking your relationship with him, you’re still that desperate Khlo?” Nia smirked, fiddling with the papers on Terry’s desk.

“Not as desperate as you. How many times have you asked him to dinner just to be rejected every time?” Khloé asked, tilting her head to the side.

Nia scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked to the side.

“Look Nia, I’m not about to waste too much time on you cause you’re not worth it, even your own parents didn’t bother to waste a moment with you that’s why you’re so busy trying to steal mine.” Khloé shot, watching Nias nostrils flare from the comment.

“Bitch you’ve got your nerve, did you forget I witnessed the fallout between you and your mother?” Nia shot back.

“Yes I am aware, but at least she cared enough about me to at least be in my life. Where is yours?” Khloé asked, smiling slightly knowing she had hit a nerve.

Nia stood silently, clenching her jaw as she tried to think of a rebuttal.

“Exactly.” Khloé chuckled. “Now let me make something very clear to you, Terry and I are together, in real life. Not because I’m paying him but because he actually wants to be with me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that feeling. You know, actually being wanted.”

Khloé went on. “But even if we weren’t together, you still couldn’t have him or any other man because you’re just not that girl. Hence why you’re begging to pay for his food everyday. So whatever you thought you were about to come in here and do, give it up.”

Nia's blood was boiling as she stared Khloé down. The way Khloé stood there so carelessly, so unbothered by her presence had pissed Nia off to the point of no return. But there was nothing she could do about it because none of what Khloé said was false.

Completely aware of Nia's anger, Khloé dug into her purse and grabbed her MAC Ruby Woo lipstick and her compact mirror. She applied the color effortlessly, seeing as though this had been her signature look for years.

“Now, what I advise you to do is continue doing my old job and focus on figuring out why no one wants you.” Khloé said, popping her lips as she applied the final layer of the lipstick. “Try therapy or Jesus.”

Nias' lip twitched as she sat mugging Khloé, watching as she turned to leave Terry’s office.

“Oh and do me a favor Imani?” Khloé began, turning to face Nia one last time. “Stop trying to be me so bad, because you can’t bitch.”

With that Khloé walked out of the office, heading to her car where Terry stood waiting for her. Spotting her just a few feet away, he lifted his weight off of the car and opened the passenger door for Khloé to get in.

“Everything good?” He asked, staring down at her as she strutted to the car.

“Of course.” She placed a kiss on his lips and stepped into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

The two of them made their way around the city, finally stopping at The Velvet Rose. Khloé suggested that they try some new restaurants downtown but Terry insisted on eating at her place. He honestly enjoyed the scenery, the ambience and the food. It was the perfect place for him to end a stressful workday with the woman he loved.

“Pablo, do you mind if I step in here and prepare a meal for Terry and I? You can call it a night if you want, I’ll close the kitchen for you.” Khloé asked her head chef.

“No ma’am, I don’t mind at all. ” He responded, moving around the kitchen to remove his apron and chef hat to grant her privacy as she prepared dinner.

“Thank you Chef!”

Terry sat back with his back pressed against the booth, tapping his leg to the rhythm of the music. Jazz was one of his favorite genres, the soft melodies, the smooth sounds of the instruments blended together always did the perfect job at helping him decompress after a stressful situation.

After about thirty minutes in the kitchen, Khloé walked over to him with two plates in her hands. Finally reaching him, she placed the food down carefully before taking a seat in the booth beside him.

“Why didn’t you have one of your waitresses bring the food out?” Terry asked, sitting up straight as he grabbed the silverware from the table.

“I wanted to bring it.” She said, “Plus I cooked it so it’s only right that I bring it to you.”

Khloé and Terry dug into their food as they engaged in deep conversation. Conversing about their future together, their individual goals and how they planned to spend the rest of their days. They spoke about their living situations and how neither of them were ready to completely move in together but loved the thought of being able to visit one another whenever they chose.

Khloé had made it clear that she didn’t want to move in until she had a ring on her finger and Terry noted that for the future. She placed her fork down on her plate and looked over at as he devoured his food.

“This may sound childish but the anniversary of the first date we went on is coming up soon.” Khloé smiled as she looked down at the food on her plate.

“Why would that sound childish?” Terry asked.

“I don’t know, I just assume only women should care about things like that.”

“We should celebrate.” Terry said, taking a bite of steak. “Maybe go on our first vacation together.”

Khloé looked up at him and a light bulb instantly went off in her head. “I wanna go to Japan. I’ve always wanted to go since Kandace went but I was afraid to go alone. What do you think?”

“I think that’s the perfect place to go.”

The two immediately started planning for their trip out of the country. They discussed dates, flights, resort options and everything in between. Khloé was mostly excited about the trip, eagerly naming all of the cities she’d love to visit, Tokyo being at the top of her list. Terry pressed his back against the booth and looked at her, smolin to himself as she ranted about all of the things they could do together once they landed.

Her excitement warmed his heart, seeing that she still lit up when she spoke to him about her dreams and plans for the future. Terry was so caught in his trance he hadn’t noticed that she stopped talking and was now staring back at him.

“Why are you just staring at me?” Khloé asked shyly.

Terry shook his head and placed the napkin from his lap onto the table. “I just missed this, that's all. I guess I’m just soaking up the moment as much as I can.”

“I told you I’m not leaving again, we have plenty of more moments to come.” Khloé said. “Besides I’m just rambling like usual.”

Terry wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, placing his lips against her temple. “I know but every moment is special to me, no matter how small it is. I like hearing you ramble.”

Khloé stared up at him and smiled, feeling herself slowly melt into the seat beside him. They sat in each other's embrace

The band began playing an instrumental version of For You by Kenny Latimore, the soft sounds of the saxophone and piano filled the space as they continued to stare at each other.

“Dance with me, handsome.” Khloé suggested.

“Yes ma’am.”

Terry grabbed her hand and walked her to the stage where the band sat. Lifting her arms above his shoulders, he rested his hands at her waist and they began to sway to the music. Khloé leaned her head forward and placed it against his shoulder, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck.

Khloé let herself sink into his arms placing most of her weight against him as they held onto one another. The band continued to play their own renditions of popular love songs, each musician playing their instrument with precision. Khloé closed her eyes as Terry rocked them softly side to side. She focused on the vibration of Terry’s voice rumbling against her temple, humming the melodies of the songs the band played.

After years of chasing external love and validation, she had finally come to realize that the love she searched for was already within her. Centering herself for the first time in her life had brought her the ability to actually feel the love she had for herself in totality. Now that she was able to identify and operate in her own essence, she was able to manifest that same love into the man that held onto her as she stood in her very own restaurant.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she stared into his eyes.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked, slightly smiling down at her.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He responded, eyebrows slightly lifted, prepared for her command.

“Love me until we meet in the next lifetime.” She stated, eyes darting back and forth between his.

He chuckled and placed a kiss on her lips before responding. “Yes ma’am.”

That concludes FAVORS

Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just started writing for the first time back in August and this was my very first series so I was a little rusty but we pushed through 🤞🏾 I love y’all down! 🩵😭

Now let me finish this one-shot I got for my baby Kelvin…

HAPPY NEW YEAR SISTERWIVES!! 🥳

#aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #terry richmond #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black fem reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc

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aceday · 1 day ago

Text

The Director’s Cut P2

links later

warnings: smut, age gap, dub!con themes, some bondage, threesome

The trailer makes a soft, almost imperceptible creak as you follow Rio inside. Agatha has her back to you two, only a soft lamplight illuminating the soft dark fabric of her shirt. You curl your fingers into your palms, remembering the feel of them digging into the shirt, into Agatha’s shoulders and hair. Your heart is thumping wildly. You feel Rio bump lightly against your arm, but when you turn, she doesn’t make eye contact with you.

There’s a soft clinking. Agatha turns around, a heavy cigar between her fingers and a delighted smile on her face. It’s this, you realize, this beautiful, genuine smile that makes you realize you never know what she’s thinking, not exactly, not even if it might seem like you do.

“Share with me?” she asks pleasantly, “Either of you smoke?”

You wait for Rio to react, hoping to take her lead, but she remains cool and silent. Still. You cough and shake your head.

Agatha tuts mockingly and walks over to you, putting her free hand on your cheek. It’s cold. “I forgot how young you are!” she says with the intonation of a stranger to a dog, “Just a baby.” She swivels to Rio. You feel the lingering chill of her touch on your skin. “Nothing? Hmm. Shame.”

She walks back to the end of the trailer, to a small corner desk. You hear the sound of a lighter, see its wobbly glow behind Agatha’s outline, and then Agatha takes a few smacking puffs. The scent of tobacco is now heavy in the air. She turns back around, crosses her arms, and the last etches of smoke spill carelessly from her nostrils. Like a dragon, you think, as another scaly grin stretches her lips.

“C’mon, you two! Why so dour? We’re celebrating!”

Agatha turns and puts out the cigar, then grabs glasses you hadn’t noticed before. A dark, golden liquid sits at the bottom. “Celebrating?” you ask weakly.

Agatha hands you and Rio the glasses. You sniff. Alcohol. She grabs one for herself. You hadn’t even noticed them before now. “The best shot we’ve done! Our best take, and the only one I’ve completely enjoyed thus far.”

You blink at the back handed compliment but Agatha takes no mind, downing the contents of her glass. She exhales loudly and dramatically. “To you two.” To your surprise, Rio slides half the bourbon (it might be whisky) back into her throat. A soft sigh from her nose is as fazed as she seems.

Hesitant, you tip the glass slowly to your lips and let a small amount dribble onto your tongue. Tastes like ass. As the glass falls back down, Agatha reaches out a hand and with one pointed finger pushes the rim back to your lips, tipping the bottom up slowly. “Ah ah ah, be good now and finish your juice. It’s good for you.” Panic jolts down your spine but, not knowing what else to do, you gulp the whiskey (it might be bourbon) down your throat, gagging at the very end, coughing some back into the glass, tears shooting to your eyes. Tastes like shit. Like hand sanitizer and dirt.

Agatha, beaming viciously, sets her glass down hard on the table. “Good, good job, kid. That’s the kind of initiative we like to see! I think I’ve held you guys around for too long, hmm? You’ve got a weekend to enjoy. We’re all SAG-AFTRA here. All union!”

She claps her hands and, wasting no time, you set the glass somewhere random and turn to the door. Rio is close to follow, handing the glass back to Agatha, until the sound of her clearing her throat stops you in your place.

“Actually, Rio, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. If you wouldn’t mind.”

You turn to Rio. Whereas Agatha’s emotions are so clear and bright on her face, their uncanny clairvoyance giving you the sense you really never know what she thinks, Rio’s is the opposite with the same effect. So stony, so clouded and stormy that you have no way of telling.

Now is no different. The longer you look, the more unreadable she becomes. “Sure, Agatha,” she says coolly, and steps inside the trailer. You are still staring inside when the door slams shut behind her. You startle and hurry down the rest of the stairs, eager to flee before Agatha changes her mind. And then you pause. Curiosity scratches temptingly at your fingers, then gets the better of you.

You inch carefully back to the trailer, seeing the shapes of Agatha and Rio inside against the faint lamplight. You strain to listen.

“… wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t…” Rio’s voice dips in and out of legibility, “… you’d enjoy it.”

Silence, or maybe whispering. You lean closer against the side of the trailer, and suddenly there's a thump against the wall, like something being slammed against it. Startled, you gasp and stumble backwards, landing on your ass in the grass.

Finding yourself suddenly in total view of whomever may be peering through the window, you hurry to your feet, running before you even think to spare a glance through the window.

The text comes at 9 am sharp the next morning. You don’t read it until you wake up, which, after a fitful night of tossing and turning in the waves of unrelenting dreams, wasn’t until past noon. You didn’t let yourself check your phone until you’ve stared meditatively (exhaustedly (exasperatedly)) at the wall for 5 minutes to half an hour.

One missed text from one Agatha Harkness and a missed call immediately following from another Rio Vidal.

My lovely actors, I’ll be seeing you both tonight at my home for dinner and drinks. 8:30 PM.

Sent in a grouped chat to both you and Rio.

Now, you scream and throw your phone off of your bed and retrieve it and weakly call Rio on the floor. The call rings out and eventually connects to her voicemail. Splayed dramatically on the cold floor of your bedroom, you fire a text off that reads, ‘Sorry I missed your call!’

She responds almost immediately while you’re sorrowfully pulling yourself to your feet.

No worries.

You bite your thumbnail, not knowing how to press for more.

What’s up?

With a frustrated groan you march into the bathroom. If you have to be seeing Agatha in 7 hours, you’ll be better prepared. A text from Rio.

It was nothing.

You sigh and turn your shower on, stepping out of your clothes. Another text from Rio.

I’ll see you tonight.

“Yeah whatever.” Your shower is long and hot and exactly what you needed, but you cast nervous, sidelong glances at your phone almost compulsively. Halfway through, you pat your hands on your towel and reach for your phone, damply sending a fast response to Agatha’s text and then composing a private message for Rio.

What are you wearing?

No response.

Hours trickle by. You waste time. The daytime sifts into night.

The tires of your car crunch up Agatha’s manicured driveway. You put your car in park, power it down, switch your headlights off. You’re toying with your keys, trying to tame your nerves before stepping out of the driveway, when your phone lights up. A notification from Rio. An image.

Rio leans on a chair, wearing a black jumpsuit that plunges down her navel. Her legs are spread, she wears heels and earrings and her hair is down. Her arms are also clasped behind the chair. Meaning she didn’t take the photo. An odd thumping in your chest as you contemplate the late outfit reveal. She looks beautiful, and you’re grateful for your choice of black slacks and a white dress shirt.

Grabbing the cheap bottle of wine in your passenger seat, you make your way carefully to her door. You ring the doorbell, and the deep sound booms dramatically through the house. The shoot has been taking place in Agatha’s hometown, and as your eyes drift lazily around the entrance the realization that this must be her home crosses your mind. Not like the glorified hotel room you’ve been staying in.

The door opens slowly. Your back straightens. There stands Agatha in a classic black dress. Her hair tumbles down her back. She smiles prettily at you, her head resting lightly on the door as she takes you in.

“Come in,” she takes your hand, “Come in. We’ve been waiting. You’re a little late.”

“Sorry,” you choke, your palm holding the wine bottle sweating a bit.

“Have you ever been to my home?” You shake your head. Agatha smiles. “Let me show you around before we find Rio. She can be patient for us, right?”

“When did Rio get here?”

“Oh, a little while ago.” Agatha leads you to her kitchen and uncorks a bottle of red wine as she speaks. “She likes to come early to these events, poor thing. I think she gets lonely.” You clear your throat awkwardly. Agatha pours two glasses, slightly fuller than they strictly needed to be. “Her father was a big shot in the business back in the day, but she’s always been one of the more talented nepo babies.” Agatha hands you a glass and you begin to sip it quickly, feeling heat rise up your neck. “Her status though, oh the girl is untouchable.” She shakes her head, sipping slowly.

“W-What’s for dinner?” your cheeks burn, but you’re desperate for a subject change.

Agatha laughs and waves you down the hall. She’s smiling broadly as she leads you to another room. “That’s why I like to keep her on something of a tight leash, you know? Her breakout role was in one of my films. She says yes to anything I ask of her now.”

As you begin to climb a staircase, you don’t know what to say. Your face burns, whether from the awkwardness of knowing all this information or from the wine, you can’t particularly tell. Your sips have become slow, long gulps. You’re running out of wine.

“And of course, everything I give her does wonderfully. It’s nice to have that sort of control over the darling girl.” Agatha flashes a smile back at you. “And she loves it too. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”

“Miss Harkness…”

When she reaches the top of the staircase, Agatha whirls on you, a hand on her hip. “I’ve told you to call me Agatha from day one, kid. You didn’t seem to have much trouble saying it yesterday.”

You go bright red and Agatha downs the rest of her drink. She plucks yours from your hand, observes that it is empty, and sets them both down.

“Listen, kid. I know what you’re thinking. You don’t know why you’re here, or what I want, or why I’m telling you all this crap.” She steps squarely in front of you. “I just know you’ve been taking a lot of shit from me lately.” A gentility falls over her face. She blinks softly up at you behind dark eyelashes. Her fingertips reach up to play at the buttons of your dress shirt. Your breath catches. She’s a few inches shorter than you, which you suppose you never really notice when she’s directing or on top of you. Here though, as she looks downward, fiddling with your buttons, you feel something in you give.

You take her by the shoulders and pull her closer in. Agatha inhales sharply as she stumbles into you, her hands pressed against your chest. You begin to reach in for a kiss, but she grabs the collar of your shirt and spins you so you push her against the wall.

And when she kisses you, your eyes are wide in shock and you take a slow moment to react. Agatha moans quietly—unlike her—and keens into you. She has never felt small like this before, or maybe it’s that you’ve never felt this big. Not bigger than her.

Her fingers in your belt loops, she pulls, and you obey, crowding her against the wall. Agatha’s legs buckle slightly around your knee and you follow suit, pushing it between her legs. She’s leant on your thigh now, her knee-length dress crumpling up the length of her legs. Her hands slide to your front and begin to undo the button of your pants, and suddenly, the realization dawns on you that you are not in control of this situation, that you never were in control no matter how much you felt you were, and that you had played eagerly into another one of Agatha’s tricks. With a sharp inhale, you step back.

Agatha blinks at you, her lips red from your harsh kisses. Lightly tracing her mouth with the tip of her pointer finger, Agatha steadies her breath a bit theatrically.

“Well done, you. Big kid now, hmm? Tough guy on the block.”

You pant and furrow your eyebrows. “What are you-”

“Come on, pet. Let me show you the best part.”

“What are you doing?” you manage to spit out, your hands shaking. There’s a soft click and you realize Agatha has undone your belt. She loops it softly around your neck and pulls you forward, guiding you further down the hallway.

“A gift for you, hmm?”

She opens a door and pushes you inside the room. You have to adjust to the lower lighting, so you hear her first. Soft whimpering, the rustle of sheet, a wet slip.

And then you see her and you gasp, moving to step forward (or maybe backward, you’re not entirely certain) when Agatha comes behind you and grips your shoulders tightly, massaging painfully at the crook of your neck, and whispering in your ear.

“Pretty, right?”

Rio, handcuffed by a wrist to the corner post of a bed, her jumpsuit pulled off of her shoulders, leaving her bare to the waist, chest pressed against the mattress as her free hand disappeared under the jumpsuit, between her legs. A phone is face down next to her head.

“Rio,” you gasp quietly. She hears and looks up, her eyes heavy lidded and face flushed.

She begins to say your name but is cut off with a low moan, her hips rolling down into the mattress.

Agatha has released her hold on you and in one hand holds a small remote. She flashes you that sweet, genuine smile. Her thumb hovers over an “up” button.

“What did I tell you? A tight leash, she and I. I decided to take on the responsibility of punishing the poor darling for the little stunt she pulled on us earlier. I hooked her up there so she couldn’t run before you got here, and then gave her a little call so she could listen in on your big shining moment in the hall there. Not to mention the delightful little toy she’s got in her underwear. I thought it might make a nice gift for you, and the old girl agreed! What do you think, kid?” Your mouth hanging slightly open, your eyes wide, you can only shake your head slowly.

Agatha sighs and leans closer to you. Her breath is warm against your ear and your skin crawls.

“Come here. Let me help you get started, hmm? Do you want to touch her, kid?” You gulp down guilt. Fuck this heat in your stomach. Fuck how turned on you know you are, since making out with Agatha against the wall, and now you know you’re soaked through, watching Rio fuck herself against the mattress, and fuck, fuck, fuck this. You nod. Agatha chuckles. Stepping to face you, she begins to undo the buttons of your shirt, from the collar down. “Do you want to touch me, then, too?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Why don’t we draw out her punishment a little longer? Put all my hard work to use a bit?” She pops off the last button and lets the shirt gape open. “She looks pretty like this, doesn’t she?”

You swallow. It’s enough for Agatha. She leads you slowly to the bed, facing you and walking backwards, holding both your hands. The backs of her legs hit the bed and you, spurred, push her down by the waist. Agatha leans up on her elbows and crawls back, making eye contact with you while you chase her. You hold her by the thighs, pulling until she’s flush against you. You push her dress up, gathering the fabric against the sweep of your palms against her thighs. There’s a look on her face you could die for. Hungry, mouth partly open, staring at you from behind her eyelashes. Rio whimpers, her toes curling into the mattress, dangling down by Agatha.

“At the foot of the bed, partially under it,” Agatha whispers. You bend down, kicking at a small box. It’s half open, and you see a strap nestled amongst a few other toys. While you search, Agatha lays her back down against the mattress. She reaches for Rio’s hand, making eye contact with her while her other speeds up the intensity of the toy in her underwear.

You pull the strap up over the fabric of your pants, wriggling the vinyl tighter. You begin to sink to your knees, pushing Agatha’s legs apart when her voice stops you.

“No need for any of that, kid. Just fuck me. We’re ready for you.” She drops the remote and stretches out to you. You nod and rise, pushing her damp underwear to the side with your fingers and spitting on her already shining cunt. Her body flinches in reaction, the hand holding Rio’s squeezing.

You can hear the angry buzz of the toy making fast work of Rio, who squirms desperately, grinding her hips down onto the mattress. She tries to let go of Agatha’s hand, looking, it seems, to touch herself as she had been before, but Agatha doesn’t let go and Rio is left to pathetically hump the mattress, thrashing fitfully between the handcuff and Agatha.

Bleary eyed, your head feels light from the alcohol. Your vision is fuzzy at the edges, and you feel almost out of body as you turn your attention back to Agatha, who stares up at Rio with a heavy, unbreaking heed. With an almost delirium about you, you position the strap and slowly push it inside of Agatha. She jolts and moans, still staring up at Rio, and you couldn’t care less that she isn’t watching you, you barely even notice, flushed with heat, focusing intensely on the slow shift of your hips, rocking the toy in and out of Agatha carefully. She’s soaked. You move inside of her easily. Her hips meet your pace with a fluidity, rolling into the toy as if this were a dance you two knew by heart.

“That’s good, go ahead baby girl, that’s it.” You blink in confusion, looking almost sleepily up to realize that Rio is crashing into an orgasm that Agatha’s words gently coax her through. You stare, wide-eyed, thrusting gently into Agatha as the two of you watch Rio become undone, thrashing, moaning, cursing and panting out Agatha’s name, your name, sobbing into the sheets, her wrists white and red.

Agatha releases Rio’s wrist, her attention shifting back to you, a concentrated expression on her face. You groan, sat up on your knees, your hands aiding to lift Agatha’s hips in the air, one of her legs hooked around your shoulder, and thrust deeply into her. She braces herself on her elbows and shoulder blades, head tilting back, eyes closing. She curses rhythmically and your pace becomes heavy, not particularly fast but deep, punctuating.

You’re starstruck, focused with a sort of delirious tunnel vision. You can see Rio crawling weakly up to the bedpost where her wrist is still chained, see her struggling with the cuff. She gives up and kicks off the rest of her jumpsuit, pulling off her toy underwear with it, which still buzzes on a low setting that apparently Agatha hadn’t bothered to turn completely off. You watch, hypnotized, at the thin fabric of Agatha’s panties stretched to the side of the toy, watch every flinch of her skin as you thrust, grip the skin of her leg and hip in your palms. She groans loudly, unbarred, the noises from her throat all but ringing in your ears.

You watch her jerk awkwardly, her body suddenly tensing, voice twisted into a gasping choke. Her fingertips dig into the sheets with one hand, your wrist with the other, crescenting cuts slicing into your skin, but you don’t mind, just watch Agatha spill into orgasm and then collapse.

You pull out of her slowly, kicking the strap off of you and kissing Agatha. She bats you off of her. Panting and with a grin, she says, “You go take care of our darling up there first, kid. She needs you more than I do.” Her remote has disappeared and in her hand, between her fingers, she holds a key.

You nod, obedient, taking the key and shuffling further up on the mattress. “Rio,” you whisper as you crawl over her twitching body. She groans and rolls onto her back.

You remember the look on her face, so in character she had been while she’d practically fucked you on that camera, the cool look in her eyes, the heat of her breath, the sterile way she watched while she fucked you, not kissing you until she had to, to get you to shut up. There is something almost pathetic, Rio’s heaving chest, wet eyes flicking around your face. When she mutters your name, it’s so hushed, you almost hadn’t made out that it was you she called for, and her hands sneak under your shirt, buttoned all the way open and tucked into your pants. She pulls you down into a deep kiss.

“Wait,” you mutter against her mouth while she kisses you desperately, “wait.” You unlock the cuff and she whimpers, folding neatly into you, under you, and there’s again this feeling of being big, bigger than her, protective of her slight form underneath you, while you kiss her, your hand holding the back of her neck.

Her hands run up and down your ribs, your spine, and you sigh into the kiss, but her grip tightens, she makes a small sound of effort, and then you are flipped, her mouth still against yours, and you can’t help the groan that escapes your throat as she straddles your hips and pulls your shirt off.

It’s not that Agatha climbs into view, settling behind Rio, her legs straddling yours, her hands wrapped around Rio and covering her breasts, her mouth sinking into the crook of her neck and shoulder with a long inhale. “Say thank you, Miss Vidal,” she whispers, shooting you a sharp, unknowable look.

Rio straightens, falling back into Agatha’s front, letting Agatha’s hands run across her skin, tweak her nipples, scratch down her ribs. “Thank you,” she says, though it is half a gasp as Agatha’s hand slides down Rio and sinks to her cunt. Rio groans and bucks, wet and sliding on your stomach. You sit partially up to kiss Rio, and she whimpers into your mouth as Agatha fucks her.

Agatha’s chin rests on Rio’s shoulder, peering at you while the two of you kiss. You make eye contact with her. Agatha smiles slowly. “Do you think she deserves this? Was her punishment enough to satisfy you?” Rio whimpers in response and Agatha’s fingers inside of her jerk roughly. “I wasn’t asking you,” she hisses into Rio’s ear, biting down sharply on her lobe.

“What do you say, kid?”

Agatha Harkness x Reader and Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: you’re but an innocent young actor slightly in over your head filming a movie opposite rio vidal, directed by milf extraordinaire agatha harkness. what could possibly go wrong and what could possibly go right?

warnings: age gap, slight dub/non!con themes, fingering, oral, slight exhibitionist themes, public sex

*afab gender neutral reader

@covenofagatha @d-z20

i guess i straight fucking lied when i said i don’t do this last time bc here we are again whoop de fucking doo

The Director’s Cut

With a satisfying pop, Rio Vidal’s fingers slip out of your mouth. The fingers of her other hand tighten around your throat, wrangling a strangled moan from your lips, and she pushes you back onto the mattress. Your fingertips scratch desperately at her forearm, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fight for breath, and Rio’s knee shoves your legs open.

“Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head fervently, a plea in your eyes. Rio releases your throat and you gasp, only for her mouth to be on yours immediately, smothering you, her hands greedily grabbing at your hips, sides, ribs. Her mouth detaches from yours only to find itself immediately at your neck, her hands now attempting to tear your shirt off of you.

“Professor,” you gasp out, voice strained with blissed pain, with velvet panic. With some frantic struggle the shirt is wrenched off of you and the air nips at your skin. The hair on the back of your neck lifts. Rio finally stills for one cold, heavy moment, to stare at you under her, her face contorted in a cool sort of snarl, her eyes sharp.

“You act up, you play by my rules.” Her hand grabs your face, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Understood?”

“I-”

“CUT.”

A scatter of voices and murmurs arise immediately. Rio lets you go and heaves a barely-restrained sigh.

“Cut!” The voice of the director demands again, and both you and your co-star sit up on the mattress. You scratch awkwardly at your throat and look around for your costume shirt somewhere in the sheets.

“It’s wrong, really. Wrong. Fuck.” Agatha Harkness steps onto the set. You squint against the spotlights, feeling your face burn. You and Rio exchange a glance. “The energy, the dynamics. We’re going to have to totally rework this.” She paces furiously. Rio stands from the bed and grabs your shirt, which had apparently been tossed off in the heat of the scene. She hands it to you and you nod gratefully, pulling it back over your head. Agatha has been in an awful mood all day. “We’re going to take twenty. I want everybody to go splash cold water on themselves and get their heads out of their asses.”

You can’t conceal your exhausted sigh as you wriggle awkwardly off the bed. You’re about to go get some water when Agatha snaps her fingers at you, freezing you in your place. With an inward groan and your heart going a million miles a minute, you turn dejectedly to your director.

“Not you. You’re going to meet me in my trailer, asap.” You stare at her for a moment with bald-faced shock, but she’s already turned to her assistant director and is complaining her ear off. You swallow your… so many things, your pride, shame, embarrassment, fury, and stomp off set to the trailer lot.

You don’t bother waiting for Agatha to catch up to throw open the door and walk inside, toeing off your shoes. You’ve never been in her trailer before. It’s not as sterile as you would have imagined; there’s stacks of books and papers and binders and folders and a whole bunch of other boring shit on every flat surface, along with more than a few half-full mugs of what seems to be black coffee.

You slouch doggedly onto her couch, rubbing your eyes. It hasn’t been your best work, you know, but you’re certain you haven’t been bad enough to quite warrant getting chewed out in private. You stare out the small square window. It could be worse, you suppose, she could be chewing you out in public. This is easier to manage, even though you hate the thought of your director being unimpressed with you, but you might as well cut your losses now and move on.

As you sit and stew, the door flies open. Agatha marches in, doused in all black, the sleeves of her button up pushed up to her elbows and her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She seems to have calmed down a little, a very little amount, well, maybe not at all, actually, maybe she looks angrier than she did before-

The door slams shut and knocks you out of your thoughts. There’s a sizzling silence. A huge knot forms in your throat.

“What was that back there, hmm?”

You don’t know what to say. You cried that take. “I cried that take.” It’s impossible to hide the desperate edge to your voice.

Agatha holds out a finger and your mouth snaps shut. “No excuses,” she hisses, “your face is fine, more than fine, but you act like you’ve never been fucked before.” A huge, violent, and deep blush spreads immediately from your collarbones up. You look away quickly. “You’re simultaneously stiff as a board and loose like a slinky. You wanna look like a slinky out there?”

Agatha has such a way with words. You shake your head. “No, I do not want to look like a slinky out there.”

Agatha doesn’t seem to notice nor care that you’ve spoken. The heat in your face burns brighter as she paces exasperatedly in front of you. Your fingers begin to scratch anxiously at your jeans. “Rio Vidal is a hot young woman. I can’t imagine that she’s not your type. And yet- hours of intimacy coordination later and we’re still at square one.” That’s firstly not true and secondly a bewilderingly unfair thing to say. The rejection stings. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away furiously, adamant on keeping a tough front for your director. She paces furiously, dizzyingly, back and forth and back and forth. “Seriously, kid. Hours of intimacy coordination and talking and talking and going over the movements step by step. I could do your part in my sleep by now. And maybe I will!” She whirls on you, then pauses. You can’t imagine what you look like right now, your body unnaturally still to keep your leg from bouncing, feeling neon you’re blushing so hard, your jaw clenched, your eyes narrowed and wet.

Agatha has always had a way of being four steps ahead of you, always in the know before there’s even anything to know, so you shouldn’t be surprised when she takes one look at you and suddenly declares, “You’re a virgin,” as if it is the most obvious truth in the world. You look away, trying hard, desperately hard, to maintain your composure. But what can you do? She’s right, for the most part.

Agatha’s eyes narrow when you don’t reply. The manic air about her stills, and you’re suddenly wishing for her fiery temper instead of the cold, calculating dread that suddenly sits heavy between you two. She crosses her arms and continues pacing, but slowly this time, less like she’s being whipped around by her own anger and more like she’s a shark circling something tender and bloody.

“Well,” she says, gesturing lazily in the air, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” You sound defensive. It’s because you are.

Agatha appears to be lost in thought, “No, no,” she hums. “Nothing bad about a little prude ruining my film, hmm?”

Well. That shuts you up. Your mouth is closed, your eyes are a little wide in disbelief, you’re pretty sure this kind of talk violates some sort of workers rights something, and upon seeing your speechless state, the ghost of a smirk tugs at Agatha’s lips. A shiver runs down your spine.

In stunned silence you flounder, opening and closing your mouth like a fish, while Agatha waits, leveling you with her knowing stare, sizing you up, her eyes tracing up and down your frigid form, for you to say something.

“I’m sorry?”

Are you apologizing or asking “Excuse me?” - you hardly know. Agatha steps in closer to you, your knees almost touching her legs, what is she thinking? Really, what could she possibly be thinking?

“Are you?” Maybe? Agatha sighs and sits next to you on the couch, an arm slung behind you. “How about I propose something for you, for us, hmm?” She turns to look at you, and you’re suddenly caught in the narrowed ice of her eyes as if under a blinding spotlight. She’s always had one of those absolutely shriveling stares that you can’t tear away from. You nod for her to continue, and a smile crawls on her lips. Something brushes your arm and you flinch, only to realize that her fingertips are floating lightly up and down your bicep.

“Tell you what, kid. I’m having a shit day, I’m definitely making it your shit day, and you’re a little prig that needs to loosen up.” She leans in closer to you, far enough away, but you can feel the heat of her breath, can see each delicate flick of her eyes around your face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why don’t I fuck you silly here in my trailer, blow a little steam, and teach you what it looks like to feel so, so, impossibly good?”

You blanch. A terrifying expanse of heat sears down your stomach, not out of embarrassment this time. “E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me, kid. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Agatha, I-”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t sneak glances down my shirt every chance you get. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve been looking at me.”

“No, no, I-”

“Then I’m wrong?”

She’s so close to you now, her mouth hovering just above yours, eyes drifting lazily across your face. The worst part, the worst part about it, is that she’s not wrong, she’s not, you do stare, you do imagine, and even now you can feel sharp tendrils of lust unfurling inside of you, dampening your underwear.

“Come on, kid,” a low whisper, her voice like the trembling string dangling the carrot of her offer in front of your face. “Tell me what you want.”

Breathless: “I…” you shake your head, “I want-” to your infinite surprise, you cut yourself off, pushing your mouth against Agatha’s, your body propelling forward almost as if of its own accord. Agatha hums in delight. She wastes no time.

She climbs on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch and straddling your hips. Her tongue slides between your lips and, hesitant, your mouth opens, and the kiss grows sloppy, wet, Agatha’s tongue and teeth and lips on and against and in you. You whimper, your hands finding her ribs, your hips bucking involuntarily as her knee slides between your thighs. Your muted breaths melt into a high pitched moan as her knee presses against your cunt.

“I knew it,” Agatha whispers when her mouth breaks from yours, and her head dips down to the soft space between your neck and shoulder. She bites, hard and fast, not enough to leave a mark but enough to send a pained spasm through your body. You tense and dig your fingertips into her sides, and Agatha chuckles.

“Come on, kid,” Agatha says, pushing up on her palms to look down at you. Your lips sting, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breathing audible, not quite gasping, but stuttering. “Pay attention, okay?”

You nod, and Agatha pushes your shirt to your collarbones. She kisses down your naval, down your stomach, her thumbs brushing your nipples and mouth hot beneath your belly button. She looks up at you, eyelashes dark, eyes pale and sharp.

“Are you watching?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Agatha’s fingers undo your jeans. Your heart clenches at the soft snap of the button being released from its denim hold, a cold sweat at the back of your neck as you hear the zipper being pulled down. Agatha looks slowly up and down, between your eyes and each new inch of skin revealed underneath your clothes.

She tugs your jeans off of you, your underwear going with it, the bits of your costume being shed from your body. Agatha sighs, relieved, the way a dog does curling up in a warm patch of sunlight, and your skin dances at the gust of breath crawling up your body.

“I needed this, kid. Let me tell you.” She leans close to your cunt, you already know you’re dripping, you’ve been dripping, but Agatha doesn’t remark on your pathetic state. Instead she hovers close and inhales deeply. “Fuck,” she whispers, barely audible, and your head falls back, a whimper dislodging from your throat.

Her tensed tongue licks slowly through your folds, the tip circling carefully around your clit, and the shudder you release grips your entire body. Your hands, which had, up until this point, been white knuckling the cushions of the couch, fly to your mouth, and Agatha is suddenly on you, lips and tongue breathing pleasure into you like a gust of wind, like fire from a dragon’s belly, and it’s intense, intense. You’ve been fingered a few lackluster times by lackluster people, but Agatha runs hot, runs feverish, and everything feels scalding, your pleasure, your — Agatha scratches down your sides — your pain, and you want more and more and more.

“Agatha,” you mutter. Your voice sounds like it’s being forcefully pulled from your throat. “Agatha.”

Agatha’s fingers play against your folds, joined with her tongue, and your hands thread through her hair. She lifts her head to look at you, and you can see the glisten of yourself on her chin. Her fingers work you, slowly, in tidal beckoning motions. Your pleasure, vague, dazzling waves, suddenly straightens, taut and defined, and you can feel your orgasm inching into you. Your breath becomes shallow.

“Let’s see,” Agatha murmurs, “how did the coordinator do this? Rio has you pinned, she’s being a little violent, there are tears in your eyes, and when she fucks you, she fucks you rough.” Agatha stuffs three fingers into you, setting a brutally slow and violently deep pace. Your yelp sounds more like a cry and Agatha narrows a cold glare at you. “Shut it, kid, I don’t want to have to do it myself.” You bring a hand to your mouth, stifling each staccato whimper to the tune of Agatha’s thrusts. “And I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Strung with pain, your skin shivering, your heels digging into the cushions, Agatha’s pace finally relents, slows, and she studies you maliciously. “In the next sex scene, our Professor acquiesces, takes pity on her disobedient but young student,” she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. Her fingers slip out of you, and though your body aches with relief, the wavering string of your pleasure keens for more. Agatha chuckles. “This is my favorite part.” She licks a broad stripe against you. You shiver. “You should see the way Rio looks at you when we film this part. It’s perfect every time.”

Agatha crawls up, your knees still hooked around her shoulders, and you whimper, feeling impossibly small as two of her fingers bury gently into you, stroking gently against your walls, her thumb brushing a light touch against your clit. The beaten, puppeted orgasm you’ve been chasing swells once more against you, rearing, an animal about to pounce.

Agatha kisses you, and you’re ready, your lips parted and waiting for her tongue, which slips eagerly between your teeth. You taste yourself. You think of Rio, stripping you on that damn bed, all hard touches and stinging words and dark, velvet eyes, and Agatha behind the camera, in her all black outfit, blending into the shadows behind the key light like a predator, biting the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching and watching. Fuck. It’s hot. It’s so hot. Agatha’s fingertips curl against what you can only imagine is your g-spot and you gasp against her mouth, earning a quick nip of your bottom lip in response.

“You gonna come for me, kid? It’s about time. Just like you do for Rio right about now, hmm?” Your body teeters slowly, achingly slowly, into an orgasm, its golden edges fizzing like a pot about to boil over. You thrash against Agatha, your hands clawing desperately at her back but your body still trapped in the curled contortion she has you pinned in. “Good, good. Much better, right? You’ll be perfect in front of that camera. Just like that, kid. Perfect.”

The thread snaps. Your orgasm douses you. You throw your head back, the cry in your throat wrangled out of you, unbidden, until Agatha slaps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t ruin your pretty voice, kid,” she purrs wickedly, “Save it for the camera.”

Agatha holds you while you shudder through your orgasm, your vision blurred at the edges, eyes unfocused, and she gently frees your legs from her shoulders, kissing you softly. Your hard panting mellows, evening out steadily. Agatha checks her watch and clucks her tongue.

“You made good time, kid. Are you going to remember this?” You nod, running your fingers through your hair. Agatha rights your jeans and helps straighten your shirt, pressing a kiss to your head as you wriggle into your costume.

“Good, because we’re getting right in it. Be ready to run the scene in ten.” A knot of shock flashes through you. Director Agatha is still director Agatha.

“But don’t I…”

“Don’t you what? Smell like sex? Still sensitive in your cunt and legs? That’s the goal, kid. Now get out of my trailer.” She waves you off. You gulp, cursing silently in your head but undeniably relishing in the hot flush at your cheeks. You stuff your feet into your shoes and let the door swing shut loudly behind you.

The team is in motion, cameras adjusting, the boom guy talking with Rio, who has her arms crossed. She casts her gaze briefly to the side and catches sight of you. She pauses. Her eyes narrow. Your stomach flips, but before you can think of what that look could possibly mean, someone grabs your arm. You whip around and face your makeup designer.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I-” she cuts herself off. You must look a little like a mess, flushed, wet-eyed. If you had to guess, you probably look like Agatha spent the entire break chewing you out. Chewing, no. Eating, on the other hand…

You chuckle dryly, and your designer takes a step back. “Nevermind,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You look perfect. Break a leg.”

“Alright everybody. Places.” Agatha’s voice cuts like a knife over the noisy bustle. There’s immediate quiet as everyone hustles to their designated spots. “We’re starting from ‘Got something to say now’.”

You situate yourself on the bed. Rio climbs on top of you. A shudder runs unprompted down your spine. With horror, you realize that you are still sensitive. Violently sensitive. Above you, Rio’s eyes narrow. She inhales deeply. You think she’s sighing, but a treacherous thought flickers through your mind that maybe she smells you, smells Agatha, smells you on Agatha on you. Rio’s eyes trace down your body, seeming to clock every unfortunate and incriminating detail. Your messed up hair, your hot skin, your shaking legs.

You’re not sure if it’s to your relief or distress, but Rio chuckles lowly. “Extra lesson, hmm?”

You swallow. “S-Sorry?”

She leans down close to your ear. Her hands wrap slowly around your wrists, pressing them above your head. This wasn’t in the intimacy coordination. “That’s fine. If you’re going to get a little extra help, maybe we can have a little fun, right?”

A knot forms in your throat. Your ears feel hot. “I think-”

Agatha’s voice, booming, as if from heaven. “Scene 30. Take 7. And… action!”

Rio grabs quickly at your throat. You feel dazed, but vaguely remember your blocking and shakily hold onto her forearm. Rio flashes you a toothy smile, a creepy, toothy smile that hollows out your chest. “Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head quickly, and to your surprise, instead of releasing your throat, Rio shoves a knee between your legs, knocking against your clit. You gasp out your next line, “Professor-” and Rio’s fingertips dig harder into the sides of your throat. Her other hand finds your wrist, slamming it above your head, her grip tight. “Professor,” you choke out again, finding Rio’s gaze, the wild, manic look in her eyes shooting guilty sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Please,” you beg, off-script, and this time, Rio relents.

She releases your neck. Your hand flies up to it, your breath scraping down your throat, heavy, but Rio catches your other wrist and shoves it down with the other. “You act up,” she hisses, “you play by my rules.” She gathers both wrists with one hand and strokes a manicured nail down your jaw. You strain your face away, breath light and fluttering.

“Understood?”

At the word, she grabs your jaw sharply, forcing you to meet her eyes. There’s something of a challenge in her gaze. You’d probably break if you weren’t so fucking turned on, but your own arousal dampens your underwear. You feel hot everywhere.

“I understand, Professor,” you whisper. A well timed tear traces from the corner of your eye down your temple. “Please, don’t go too hard.” You blink pathetically up at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

The double meaning is more than received. Rio laughs loudly. “Didn’t mean to? Yeah right.” Her knee pushes up into your hot cunt and you whimper loudly, your eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your jaw drops down between your legs. You whine and buck your hips. Rio scoffs, shaking her head. It’s miserably clear to her that you’re not acting anymore.

“Pathetic,” she sneers. Her hand quickly unbuttons your jeans and sinks beneath your waistband. Usually, she doesn’t come close to touching you. The jeans are low-rise and loose, but this time, Rio has no qualms about pressing her fingertips against your underwear, no doubt feeling the hot, soaked cloth. She groans and curses.

“Professor,” you gasp, choked. Your tears flow freely now. Her fingertips dig blindly against your cunt, feeling through the fabric your folds, your clit, warm and sensitive. You feel raw from the orgasm you just had, so violently raw, and even the lightest touch sends a dark pleasure scattering through you. You jerk uncontrollably, writhing beneath Rio, feeling an orgasm, a fucking orgasm, climbing panicked below your stomach.

Rio’s mouth crashes down onto yours, as if trying, and failing, to mute each desperate noise that crawls from your throat. The result is you moaning wildly into the kiss, choking around her tongue, her fingers kneading into the cloth and sending you sputtering into a lingering orgasm that you’re not sure ever fully evaporated - a fact Rio seems to be well aware of.

Your body tenses and you careen through the waves of pleasure splashing in you, swallowing you whole. Rio pulls her mouth off of yours to watch the bliss bloom across your face and the cry that erupts from your throat is somehow both a whimper and a howl.

“Much better,” Rio whispers, pulling her hand from your jeans, kissing down your neck and stroking your cheek with her thumb. You can smell yourself on her fingers. You lay there dumbly, shivering through the dregs of your orgasm, sighing into an exhaustion you’ve never known. “That was good, that was really good,” Rio hums, pleased.

When your eyes meet, there’s a bit of tentativeness. This got out of hand. The smile you give her is, you hope, both wayward and reassuring.

“Did I-” you’ve started your line while still out of breath, and interrupt yourself to take a deep breath, “Did I do okay, Professor?” A phrase carrying a triple meaning, at this point. You’d give anything to look at Agatha right now, but manage to stay in character, keep your gaze trained on Rio’s glazed eyes.

“You were amazing,” she whispers, kissing you softly.

“Cut!”

Both Rio and you jolt in surprise. She peels off of you, lightly intertwining your fingers with hers, and you sit up, looking towards Agatha. You only see the camera, and in the darkness, her dark form slides from behind it. Her outline becomes slowly visible as she takes a few steps closer towards you two, though shadows still cut across her. You can see a smile stretch across her face.

“Now that,” she says. “Was perfect.” Agatha turns to face the crew. “On that note, that’s a wrap for today. Everybody go take a cold shower.” Agatha then steps fully into the light. The look on her face is indescribably malicious, a smile that could be angry or just evil, pale eyes glinting. You exchange a glance with Rio and notice a soft heat on her cheeks. “You two, meet me in my trailer first.” Agatha’s eyes narrow. “I want to discuss some notes with you.”

#agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal #agathario #agatha all along

524 notes · View notes

enemiestolovershoe · 14 hours ago

Note

can you write one were reader is matts sister and Noahs best friend and the band always tease the shit out of them when their glued together? thank you:)

Subtle’s Overrated

Noah Sebastian x bsf!dierkes!reader

Summary: Y/N and Noah’s friendship sparks teasing and undeniable chemistry on tour, but when feelings finally surface, nothing—especially their bandmates—can keep them apart.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Teasing, Friends to Lovers, Use of Alcohol, Mention of smoking weed, I din't proofread it so maybe there's gonna be mistakes. lmk if i forgot something.

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

The airport was buzzing with early morning activity, travelers pulling their luggage through the terminal, announcements echoing overhead. You were leaning against one of the sleek chrome pillars, your carry-on by your feet, scrolling through your phone to pass the time.

Noah was right beside you, as usual. He had his arms crossed, a hoodie tugged over his messy hair, and he was squinting at the boarding pass in his hand like it was written in hieroglyphics.

"I swear they make these things harder to read every year," he muttered, flipping it over like the back might offer some hidden insight.

"It’s not a riddle, Noah," you said with a laugh, reaching out to snatch it from him. "Gate 22. Terminal C. You’ve been doing this for years, and you still act like it’s your first time at an airport."

"Not all of us are travel pros like you, princess," he shot back, smirking as he leaned casually into your space.

Before you could reply, a loud wolf whistle interrupted the moment.

"Ah, look at ‘em! Joined at the hip, as always!" Nick Folio’s voice carried across the terminal as he walked over, balancing a precariously large coffee in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. "Should we just start planning the wedding now?"

"Shut up, Folio," you groaned, rolling your eyes, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed your nonchalance.

"Yeah, shut up, Folio," Noah parroted, tossing a crumpled napkin at him. "Jealousy’s a bad look on you."

Nick feigned hurt, clutching his chest. "Jealous? Me? Never. I just think you two make a cute couple."

"Do you ever let up?" Jolly chimed in as he approached, his bag slung over one shoulder. "I mean, they’ve been attached at the hip since day one, and nothing’s happened yet. Maybe they’re just... eternal besties."

"Or they’re both in denial," Matt teased, appearing out of nowhere and clapping Noah on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "Classic slow burn."

"Right, because you’re such an expert on relationships," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at your older brother.

"Hey," Matt replied, grinning. "Just calling it like I see it. And as your big brother, it’s my job to keep the guy glued to your side in line."

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, shaking your head as the rest of the group laughed.

"Big brother or not, you’re still a pain," Noah quipped, though there was no malice in his tone.

"As if you’re one to talk," Matt retorted, pointing at him. "If I had a dollar for every time you’ve mooched off her snacks, I’d be retired by now."

The group chuckled, and even you couldn’t help but crack a smile. This was the usual routine, and as much as you liked to complain about it, it was comforting in a way.

As the teasing died down, Nicholas Ruffilo joined the circle, pulling out his phone. "So," he began, "who’s gonna be the one to lose their luggage this time?"

"My money’s on Noah," Jolly said without hesitation.

"Why me?" Noah protested, looking genuinely offended.

"You lost your passport twice last year," Jolly replied flatly.

"That’s different!"

"How?"

"Uh, it just is," Noah said, his argument faltering as you snorted.

"I’ll help you keep track of your stuff this time," you offered, patting his shoulder mockingly.

"You’re a saint," he said, putting a hand over his heart. "An angel sent to save me from myself."

"Don’t encourage him," Matt groaned, shaking his head.

The overhead speakers crackled to life, announcing the boarding process for your flight. Matt immediately took charge, ushering everyone toward the gate.

"Alright, lovebirds, let’s move it," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"We’re not—"

"Save it," Nick interrupted, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the group started walking. "We all know it’s just a matter of time."

You exchanged a glance with Noah, who shrugged with a small, amused smile. It was the same old joke, but this time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

As you reached the gate, Noah fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed. "You ever feel like they know something we don’t?" he asked quietly, just for you to hear.

"All the time," you admitted, your voice just as soft.

The moment hung in the air for a beat too long before Matt’s voice broke it. "Hurry up, or we’re leaving you behind!"

With a shared smirk, you and Noah picked up the pace, falling into step with the rest of the band.

The plane was relatively quiet as everyone settled into their usual spots. You slid into the window seat with a satisfied sigh, propping your backpack under the seat in front of you. Noah dropped into the middle seat beside you, and Folio followed, plopping down with a dramatic groan.

“Man, who made planes so cramped?” Folio grumbled, stretching his legs as far as they could go without hitting the seat in front of him.

“Quit complaining, Folio,” Matt called from his aisle seat, shooting him a look over Ruffilo’s head. “You know it’s worse on the tour bus.”

“True, but at least I don’t get stuck in the middle of these two on the bus.” Folio gestured to you and Noah. “You’re like magnets, always leaning into each other.”

“Jealous you’re not in the middle?” Noah quipped, earning a snort from Jolly.

“Nah, man. I just don’t want to be collateral damage when this whole slow-burn romance finally combusts,” Folio said, winking at you.

You groaned and shoved his arm lightly. “You guys really need new material.”

“Maybe we’ll stop when you two finally admit it,” Jolly chimed in, earning a chorus of agreement from the others.

Noah just smirked, leaning back in his seat. “Keep dreaming, guys.”

As the plane took off and the initial excitement of the flight settled down, everyone fell into their own routines. Matt pulled out his laptop, muttering something about emails, while Ruffilo popped in his earbuds and started sketching on his tablet. Folio tapped away on his phone, and Jolly was already half-asleep, head tilted against the window.

You glanced at Noah, who was scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “What are you looking at?” you asked softly.

“Nothing interesting,” he said, tilting the screen toward you briefly before locking it. “You thinking of sleeping?”

“Maybe,” you replied with a yawn, leaning your head back. “Flights always make me sleepy.”

“You always knock out within the first hour,” he teased, grinning.

“Can’t help it,” you murmured, already feeling the pull of sleep. Without thinking, you shifted slightly, leaning your headagainst Noah’s shoulder. It wasn’t the first time, and judging by the way he didn’t even flinch, it wasn’t a big deal to him, either.

Time passed, and you drifted off, your breathing evening out as the noise of the plane faded into the background.

It wasn’t long before the teasing began.

“Look at him,” Jolly whispered from across the aisle, his voice low but just loud enough for Noah to hear. “He looks like he’s holding his breath.”

“I think he’s afraid to move,” Ruffilo added, smirking. “Wouldn’t want to wake her, huh?”

“I’m not afraid to move,” Noah said defensively, though he kept his voice quiet so as not to wake you. “I just don’t want her to wake up cranky.”

“Oh, sure,” Matt interjected, leaning forward to get a better look. “That’s a real heroic excuse. But let’s be honest, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Noah shot him a look. “You’re her brother. Shouldn’t you be discouraging this kind of teasing?”

“Should I?” Matt said, feigning deep thought. “Nah, this is too much fun.”

“Careful, Noah,” Folio added, nudging him. “You keep letting her nap on you, and the next thing you know, you’ll be the designated human pillow.”

“Already am,” Noah muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his tone.

The ribbing continued for a bit longer before everyone settled back into their respective distractions. Noah shifted slightly, trying to keep his arm from going numb under your weight. Despite the teasing, he couldn’t help but smile faintly at how peaceful you looked.

As the captain announced the descent, Noah gently nudged your shoulder. “Hey, we’re landing soon. Time to wake up.”

You stirred, blinking sleepily and taking a moment to realize where you were. “Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“Don’t apologize,” Noah said, his voice soft. “You looked like you needed it.”

From across the aisle, Jolly piped up, “Did you get any drool on him this time?”

“Jolly!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as the rest of the band burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Jolly said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Noah just smirked, grabbing your carry-on from under the seat. “Ignore them. They’re just mad they don’t have someone to nap on.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as everyone prepared to disembark.

The airport was bustling with activity as you and the band made your way outside, your bags in tow. In the bus parking lot, your familiar tour bus stood waiting. Its sleek exterior and logo had become a second home over the years.

As you approached, Folio let out a dramatic sigh. “Ah, the tour bus. Where dreams of legroom come to die.”

You climbed aboard with Noah right behind you. As expected, you both took the booths across from each other—the same ones you’d claimed on every tour since your first. He threw his backpack onto the seat before flopping down, stretching his long legs.

“Surprise, surprise,” Matt said as he followed behind. “You two gravitate toward each other like it’s magnetic.”

“Yeah, we get it, Matt,” you replied, rolling your eyes but smiling. “Maybe we just like consistency.”

“Consistency, huh?” Jolly drawled, sliding into a booth further back. “Sure it’s not because you two can’t go five minutes without making googly eyes at each other?”

Noah shot him a look. “You’re projecting, man.”

“Yeah, totally projecting,” you chimed in, grinning.

“Call it what you want,” Matt teased as he threw his bag into the seat beside him, “but it’s only a matter of time before we’re writing ‘Mr. and Mrs.’ on the bus windows.”

Ruffilo smirked. “Or printing it on the next batch of merch.”

“You guys are insufferable,” you muttered, trying to suppress your laughter.

The drive to the venue was filled with similar banter, the kind that made the long hours on the road bearable. When the bus finally pulled into the lot behind the venue, everyone piled out, stretching and groaning after the ride.

Inside, the band got straight to work setting up for soundcheck. You wandered into the sound booth where Matt was stationed, helping coordinate with the crew.

“You’re still gonna be my unpaid assistant this tour, right?” he asked, grinning as you leaned against the console.

“Of course,” you said with mock enthusiasm. “Living the dream.”

As the band began their soundcheck, you couldn’t help but watch Noah. He was in his element, mic in hand, his voice effortlessly commanding the space. The way he moved, the focus in his expression—it was mesmerizing.

“Subtle,” Matt said dryly, breaking your trance.

“Huh?” You turned to him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Your staring,” he teased. “You’re not exactly sneaky about it.”

“I’m just watching the sound levels,” you lied, feigning nonchalance.

Matt chuckled. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The band wrapped up soundcheck, and everyone took a break before the show. Back in the green room, the teasing resumed as everyone grabbed snacks and drinks.

“Are we gonna have to peel you two apart again tonight?” Jolly asked, smirking as he sipped his water.

“Not unless you want to lose a limb,” Noah shot back, earning a laugh from Folio.

“Relax, man,” Folio said. “We’re just pointing out the obvious. You two are like those couples in rom-coms—everyone knows what’s coming except you.”

“We’re not a couple,” you said, exasperated. “Can we change the subject?”

“No,” Ruffilo replied immediately, earning a high-five from Jolly.

As showtime approached, you found yourself backstage, the energy in the venue electrifying. The band took the stage, and you couldn’t help but sing along and dance to every song, caught up in the moment.

From where you stood, you could see Noah glancing your way more than once, a small smile tugging at his lips when he caught your eye.

When the show ended, the crowd’s cheers still echoing in your ears, you were more than hyped. The moment Noah stepped offstage, sweaty and flushed from the performance, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Y/N,” he laughed, his voice still rough from singing. “I’m literally soaked in sweat.”

“I don’t care,” you said, grinning as you held on tighter.

“Aww,” Jolly cooed from behind you. “A post-show love fest.”

“Jealous?” Noah shot back, his arms briefly tightening around you before he pulled away, though his smile lingered.

Before you could respond, Matt approached, crossing his arms as he looked at the two of you. “Still hugging, huh?”

“Don’t start,” you warned, though your tone lacked any real bite.

“I’ll start if I want to,” Matt said, smirking. “But I’ve got a better idea. Drinks to celebrate the first show?”

Noah glanced at you, his brow quirking. “What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect,” you replied, still buzzing with excitement.

“Great,” Matt said, clapping his hands. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.”

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with music and chatter as you and the band made your way to the VIP section. The staff had cordoned off a cozy corner for you, complete with plush leather couches and a low table littered with menus and coasters.

Matt was quick to take charge, ordering the first round of drinks. He came back carrying a tray with an assortment of glasses, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“To the first show of the tour!” he declared, raising his glass.

“To surviving another tour without killing each other,” Jolly added dryly, earning a laugh from the group as everyone clinked glasses.

The night unfolded in a haze of laughter, stories, and an ever-growing pile of empty glasses. It wasn’t long before Folio and Matt were deep into their cups, leaning heavily into their drunken states.

Folio slumped back into the couch, a lazy grin on his face. “Damn, I’m so drunk,” he mumbled to himself, chuckling. “Shouldn’t have smoked that joint during the show.”

You and Noah, seated next to each other on the crowded couch, exchanged amused glances and laughed quietly at Folio’s confession.

“What’s so funny?” Folio slurred, his glassy eyes focusing on the two of you. Then he paused, squinting as if his vision had just betrayed him. “Wait a minute… are you… sitting on his lap?”

Your cheeks immediately flushed as you realized he was right. The couches were too crowded, and at some point, you’d perched yourself on Noah’s lap to make room. It had felt casual—comfortable even—but now, under Folio’s scrutiny, it was anything but.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, trying to play it cool. “There’s no room.”

“No room,” Folio repeated, his grin widening. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

“Here we go,” Noah muttered under his breath, his arm resting lightly around your waist to keep you steady.

Folio leaned forward, as much as his inebriated state allowed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re awfully cozy for two people who are ‘just friends.’”

“It’s practical,” you countered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Practical,” Matt chimed in, sliding onto the couch beside Jolly with his drink in hand. His face was flushed, his grin even wider than usual. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“No, no, let’s explore this,” Matt said, clearly delighted. “You’re telling me, out of all the space in this VIP section, the only place you could sit is on Noah’s lap?”

“Exactly,” Noah said with a straight face, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “It’s basic physics.”

“Physics,” Matt repeated, laughing. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Better than whatever logic you’re using to justify that shirt,” Noah shot back, gesturing at Matt’s garishly patterned button-up.

“Deflection,” Folio sang, pointing at Noah like he’d cracked some great mystery. “Classic deflection.”

“You two are unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Unbelievable? No, no, no,” Matt said, his voice full of mock indignation. “What’s unbelievable is that you’ve been in each other’s pockets for years, and you’re still pretending nothing’s going on.”

Folio nodded vigorously, almost spilling his drink. “They’re like… like one of those slow-cooking stews. Taking forever, but you know it’s gonna be good when it’s done.”

Noah groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I think it’s time to get these two to bed.”

You nodded, standing up and grabbing Folio’s arm. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go.”

“I’m fine!” Folio protested, though he made no effort to resist as you and Noah guided him out of the booth.

“You’re fine, huh?” Noah said, steadying him when he stumbled. “Tell that to your liver.”

Behind you, Jolly and Ruffilo waved lazily from the booth. “We’ll hang out a bit longer,” Ruffilo called. “Good luck with those two.”

The walk back to the bus was anything but quiet.

“You two looked real comfortable back there,” Matt teased, slurring slightly but still sharp enough to make you groan.

“It’s not like that,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time, focusing on getting him up the bus steps.

“Sure, sure,” Folio chimed in, leaning heavily on Noah. “Bet you’re just gonna sit on his lap the whole tour, huh?”

“Folio, shut up,” Noah said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Once you got them into their bunks—after much coaxing and a few more poorly aimed jokes—you and Noah retreated to the living room section at the back of the bus. It was quiet now, the gentle hum of the bus’s engine filling the space.

You sank onto the couch, exhaling a long breath. “Well, that was… something.”

“Every tour starts like this,” Noah said, sitting across from you. He leaned back, stretching his arms along the top of the couch. “It’s like a rite of passage.”

You laughed softly, running a hand through your hair. “I’m surprised they didn’t start singing wedding bells on the way back.”

“Oh, give them time,” he replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. A comfortable silence settled between you, and when you glanced up, you caught Noah watching you, his head tilted slightly, a faint smirk on his lips.

“What?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” he said, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

“Come on,” you pressed, leaning forward slightly. “What’s that look for?”

He shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he said simply, his voice low but teasing.

Noah’s smirk didn’t waver, his gaze steady and warm as he leaned slightly closer. The faint hum of the bus seemed louder in the quiet.

“What about me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, curiosity and nervousness mingling in your tone.

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully, and then his lips curved into a gentle smile. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

Your breath caught for a second, and you blinked at him, taken off guard. “What?”

He chuckled, the sound low and almost shy, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. “I’m serious. You are.”

A flush crept up your neck as you tried to find your voice. “Noah…”

“What?” he teased, leaning his elbows on his knees, his body angled toward you. “Can’t I say something nice without you getting all flustered?”

“I’m not flustered,” you shot back, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Right,” he said with a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling.

You folded your arms, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Why now? What’s with the sudden compliments?”

He shrugged, his expression softening. “Maybe it’s not sudden. Maybe I’ve always thought it, but I’m just bad at saying it out loud.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words. “You think… you think they were right all this time? About us?”

“No,” he said firmly, his voice steady and leaving no room for doubt.

Your stomach dropped a little. “Oh.”

He tilted his head, studying your reaction, and then his lips quirked into a small smile. “I don’t think they were right. I know they were.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in closer, his hand lightly brushing against your knee. The air between you felt charged, the space too small yet not enough.

And then he kissed you.

It started slow, tentative, as if testing the waters. His lips were soft, warm, and they lingered against yours just long enough for your breath to hitch. When you didn’t pull away—when you leaned into him, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders—it deepened.

Noah’s hand slid to your waist, guiding you closer as the kiss grew more passionate. The world outside the bus seemed to disappear, leaving only the quiet hum of the engine and the racing of your heartbeat.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and he pulled you onto his lap without hesitation. The moment felt electric, the years of teasing, tension, and unspoken words finally snapping into place.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that sent your mind spinning. You shifted slightly, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. His hands rested firmly on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

It was as if nothing else mattered, just the two of you finally crossing an invisible line that had been drawn so long ago.

And then—

“Damn, I’m wayyy too dizzy to sleep in that tiny bunk—” Folio’s voice cut through the haze, slurred but loud enough to make you both freeze.

Your head whipped around, your eyes wide, as Folio stumbled into the living room. He stopped mid-step, his eyes blinking rapidly as they focused on the scene in front of him.

“Oh,” he said, his tone laced with a mix of shock and amusement. “Ohhhhhh.”

You scrambled off Noah’s lap, your cheeks burning hotter than the sun as you tried to compose yourself. Noah, on the other hand, stayed seated, though he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and bemusement.

“Folio,” you started, your voice a pitch higher than normal. “What are you doing up?”

He pointed vaguely in the direction of the bunks. “Too dizzy. Needed air. Did not expect to walk into… whatever this is.”

“This isn’t… it’s not—” you stammered, flailing for words.

Folio smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Nah, don’t stop on my account. Just… maybe put a sock on the door next time or something?”

“Go to bed, Folio,” Noah said, his tone exasperated but still holding a hint of a smile.

Folio gave a mock salute before stumbling back toward the bunks, muttering something about how the tour was going tobe very interesting.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you buried your face in your hands. “Oh my God.”

Noah chuckled, his hand reaching out to tug gently at your wrist, pulling your hands away. “Well, that wasn’t exactly how I imagined this going.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though your face was still flaming. “So much for subtle.”

“Subtle’s overrated anyway,” he said, his smirk returning as he pulled you back down beside him.

Taglist: @courta13

A/N: Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Let me know if you'd like me to continue this as a mini-series. Also, my asks are always open—feel free to request anything!

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riddlerosehearts · 1 day ago

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god i love how the twst novel characterizes trey and particularly what it does with his enabling of riddle's tyranny, how it uses this aspect of trey as a parallel to yuuya's intense anxiety and fear of confrontation and uses both of their characters to emphasize the consequences of avoiding conflict, and how you have to overcome that fear in order to do what's right, it's so fascinating to me and since i'm sure there are a lot of fans who haven't read the novel i wanna talk about it.

see, yuuya is written as someone who is so, so afraid of conflict that he doesn't let himself get close to anyone or even have any hobbies--he says he doesn't want to risk fighting with friends over a difference of opinion, and he's also afraid of finding something he's so passionate about that he doesn't want to let go of it, and having to fight to protect it. he practically avoids really living because he's just too scared of having to deal with any potential confrontation. throughout the novel there are times when yuuya wants to tell ace and deuce to stop fighting but can't get himself to say anything, and times when they ask him for his opinion but he avoids giving it so he won't have to upset anyone by picking a side. even when ace starts telling riddle off and calling him a tyrant at the unbirthday party, and everyone else is saying that ace is wrong, yuuya just stands there and does nothing--he knows he should have his friend's back but he freezes up, too terrified to speak.

and then trey... this will probably get a little long, so i'll put it under a read more, but oh, trey.

in book 1 of the game, when riddle has some poor student collared for not wearing pink to feed the flamingos, he tells trey and cater to escort the student away and they both just say "yes housewarden" and do it. in the novel, we have this additional moment:

notice how trey does not say this is okay, but he also doesn't exactly say it isn't. he doesn't really share an opinion on the situation at all, he just says there's nothing he can do, and then thinks to himself that he can't afford to think about it, can't risk letting riddle be pushed over the edge.

this is when ace, deuce, yuu, and grim then come in to ask trey about his friendship with riddle. in the game, grim asks him why he hasn't told riddle off already, given that he's the older of the two, and trey states that he doesn't think the situation calls for it because "these sorts of strict rules are what created riddle". but in the novel, it's deuce who asks trey "i know you're the vice housewarden, but you're older than riddle, right? wouldn't the housewarden listen to his elder?", and the way trey's response goes is a little different, with grim saying he must be scared of riddle and trey once again (well, twice actually) saying that he can't do anything about the situation:

he tells the rest of the group all about how riddle's parents are famous magical healers, how his mother planned out every single aspect of his life for him, how he obeyed every rule she set and had his signature spell mastered by age 10, and how riddle genuinely believes that the enforcement of strict rules is a service to his dorm members and he sees the violation of those rules as an inexcusable offense. grim wonders why this is and yuuya realizes the following, which is also a perfect explanation of why trey believes that standing up to riddle about his overly strict attitude would be rejecting him: "if riddle accepts that rules can be broken, then that's basically a rejection of his own self. because he was created by rules".

in both the game and the novel, trey then mentions that he knows how hard riddle's life has been and says he just can't bring himself to hold riddle's way of doing things against him, to which ace responds by telling him "so it's YOUR fault riddle is like this". but in the novel, yuuya is surprised because he didn't think trey bore any responsibility, and trey's response to the question of "you always thought what his parents did to him was wrong, didn't you?" is described like this:

it's very similar to the various descriptions throughout the book of yuuya desperately wanting to speak up but being unable to get the words out whenever there's any sign of conflict. clearly trey, like yuuya, is afraid, not necessarily of riddle himself but of having to hurt his friend by telling him he's doing something wrong, and in the novel ace calls him out on that:

(the dialogue at this part of the game is largely the same, but the sentences between "that's pathetic" and "you guys are supposed to be friends" are brand new).

and then, trey's response, or lack thereof is very telling:

what ace says to trey here even prompts yuuya to apologize to ace for not standing up for him before, because he empathizes with trey. he understands trey's inability to stop riddle, his fear of rocking the boat, the desire to avoid causing a conflict and upsetting his friend no matter what else happens, because it's exactly what he's been afraid of for his whole life. and as a result yuuya feels ashamed of himself and believes that ace was right to push trey the way he did. in response, ace tells yuuya that it's okay for him to not want to force himself into fights because, unlike trey, at least yuuya will tell ace if he thinks he's wrong.

but that's not enough for yuuya, who decides that he has to finally, finally stand up for ace and deuce when riddle has them collared and everyone is cheering for riddle during the duel. he walks right through the crowd and tells riddle that he doesn't even care who's wrong or right, he just wants the fighting to stop. it's a simple thing, but it's such a difficult step for him to take.

for trey, we know how this goes--just like in the game, he intervenes when riddle summons rose bushes to attack ace, because seeing his friend almost become a murderer is where he draws the line. in the novel, he also tells riddle that if this doesn't stop he'll only end up more and more alone. he reaches his hand out to his friend and tries to urge him to calm down.

of course, none of this goes the way either of them expected, and in the novel cater tries to get yuuya to agree that they should run from the danger of fighting riddle, but neither he nor trey will yield. so all of our main heartslabyul boys and ramshackle join together to find a way to win. and right after trey uses his magic to save cater from riddle, we get this dialogue:

and while what trey says after riddle escapes from his overblot state is basically the same as it is in the game, i think the description of his actions here is lovely:

and it may seem like a simple thing, to just be honest with a friend, but it's such a big step for trey to finally take with riddle, after spending so much time enabling his harmful behavior out of an incredibly flawed sense of loyalty toward him.

in the end, yuuya realizes that his way of living, spending his life stubbornly avoiding confrontation, had kept him from being able to make friends. similarly trey being so afraid of upsetting riddle that he hid his true feelings and let him do whatever he wanted, kept him from being able to be a true friend to him. they both learn to finally be brave enough to take action and to be honest with themselves and others, but yuuya mainly needed to learn the value of standing up for your friends while trey had to learn how important it is to stand up to them when necessary.

yuuya also says, after ace and deuce call him stubborn and opinionated, that he may have just hated bending his own principles more than he wanted to have friends, which i find really interesting because essentially part of yuuya's arc is to stop avoiding forming relationships with others for the sake of his principles, because true friends will have each other's backs even if they don't always agree on everything. and then part of trey's arc is to stop bending his principles for the sake of his relationship with riddle, because true loyalty goes hand-in-hand with honesty. and while i feel like you could figure a lot of this out about trey just by reading between the lines a bit in-game, i love how the novel really brings it to the forefront by making their arcs parallel each other like this.

#twisted wonderland #trey clover #yuuya kuroki #riddle rosehearts #twst novel #godddd. this is probably overly long and poorly written and nobody will read it but it's fine #trey and riddle's relationship is so fascinating i want to study them under a microscope #i love trey. i think he has a bit of a darker side to him for sure but when it comes to riddle??#he is full of unconditional love and devotion for his childhood friend. he just wants him to be happy but that's also where he goes wrong!!#he's SO blindly devoted to riddle that he doesn't realize the mistake he's been making until it's almost too late!!#oughhhh how i wish the heartslabyul anime would take some inspiration from the novel #also if someone does read this i'm sorry for the low quality photos of the novel that i took with my phone LMAO. i did put alt text on them

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lowaltitude · 3 days ago

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Dial Tone 5 | Matt Rempe

- NHL, New York Rangers - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Matthew Rempe x FEM!reader, in which a wrong number friendship is more than you'd hope for. OR he falls first, he falls hard, he's NYC's biggest enforcer.

𖥻 PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. 5.2k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We hugged briefly, and it felt oddly natural—like we’d done this a hundred times before. When we pulled apart, he gave me a once-over, his grin turning playful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re a lot shorter in person.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re a giant. Everyone’s short compared to you.”

“Fair point,” he said, stepping aside to let me lead the way toward the counter. “But I think you owe me an apology for all the grief you’ve given me about my height.”

“You’ll survive,” I shot back, glancing over my shoulder at him.

We ordered our drinks, and while we waited, the conversation came easily. It was almost disarming how normal it felt, standing there with him, joking about the ridiculous fake names on the order screen (“Rempe with a P? Really?”) and arguing over who would pay (“Matt, it’s coffee, not a Michelin-star dinner”).

Once we had our drinks, we found a quiet table in the corner. I’d picked this coffee shop intentionally—low-key, tucked away from the busier streets—and it seemed to work. No one gave us a second glance, even as Matt adjusted his baseball cap like he was expecting paparazzi to burst through the door at any second.

“So,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “does this count as me giving you the grand tour of San Diego?”

He smirked. “If this is your idea of a tour, I’m disappointed.”

“Okay, Mr. Critic,” I said, raising a brow. “What do you want? Beaches? Tacos? Both?”

“Both sounds good,” he admitted, taking a sip of his drink. “But let’s not rush it. I’m enjoying the coffee and company.”

My cheeks warmed at the way his tone softened on the last word, but I kept my composure. “Well, lucky for you, I have an entire day planned.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows lifted, and I could see the faintest hint of surprise behind his confident facade. “You’ve been planning this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said, smirking. “I just figured it would be better than watching you pace around the hotel room.”

He laughed, the sound low and genuine. “Touché.”

We spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. He told me stories about life on the road with his team—carefully avoiding any specifics that might give away his identity to anyone listening—and I shared some of my most ridiculous college anecdotes, which had him laughing so hard at one point he nearly spilled his coffee.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his cup down. “I’ve got to admit, this is way more fun than I expected.”

“Wow, what a glowing review,” I said, feigning offense. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He grinned. “It is. I just didn’t think hanging out in a coffee shop could feel…easy, you know?”

“Maybe it’s the company,” I suggested, my voice light but my heart hammering.

“Maybe it is,” he said, holding my gaze just a second longer than necessary.

For a moment, the noise of the coffee shop faded into the background. The banter, the jokes, the nerves—it all melted away, leaving only the quiet, unspoken connection we’d built over the months.

He broke the silence first, leaning back in his chair and flashing me a crooked smile. “So, about this grand tour…”

“Yes?”

“Think it includes tacos and a sunset?”

“Definitely,” I said, matching his grin. “But only if you can keep up.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to me.

I took it without hesitation, his touch warm and grounding. As we stepped out into the sunny San Diego afternoon, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something I didn’t quite have the words for yet—but whatever it was, I knew I wanted to see it through.

The day flew by in a blur of laughter and stolen moments. We grabbed tacos at a local stand he immediately declared “life-changing,” walked along the beach with our shoes in hand, and watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

“You know,” he said as we stood at the water’s edge, his hands shoved into his pockets, “I wasn’t sure how this would go.”

“Why?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“Because meeting someone in real life…it’s different,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “But this? You? It’s better than I imagined.”

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn’t think of a clever response. So instead, I just smiled, the kind that reached my eyes.

“Same here,” I said softly.

He smiled back, his expression open and unguarded in a way that made my chest ache.

As the waves lapped at our feet, I realised something: whatever this was—whatever it could become—I was ready to take the chance.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

By the time we got back to the coffee shop parking lot where we’d left our cars, the city had gone quiet, the hum of the day giving way to the stillness of the evening. Matt leaned against his car, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable expression I was starting to recognize as his way of holding back.

“I guess this is it,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something deeper.

“For tonight,” I replied, clutching my keys a little tighter than necessary.

He tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, San Diego.”

“Good,” I said before I could stop myself.

His smirk softened into a smile, the kind that made it hard to look away. “So,” he said, pushing off the car, “what’s next? Another tour? A baseball cap-and-sunglasses situation?”

I laughed, the sound more nervous than I wanted it to be. “We’ll see. Depends on how much trouble you want to cause.”

“I’m not the troublemaker here,” he teased, stepping closer. “You’re the one sneaking around with a professional hockey player.”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “If anyone’s sneaking around, it’s you.”

“Fair,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But for the record, I like sneaking around with you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, heavier than the teasing tone they’d been delivered in. For a moment, we just stood there, the quiet of the night wrapping around us like a cocoon.

“I had fun today,” I said finally, my voice softer than I intended.

“Me too,” he replied, his gaze holding mine. “You’re pretty good at this whole real-life thing.”

“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

We stood there for a moment longer, neither of us seeming ready to leave. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice lower than before. “Drive safe, okay?”

“You too,” I said, stepping back toward my car.

As I opened the door, he called out, “Hey.”

I turned to look at him, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“This doesn’t count as our only tour, right?” he asked, one hand resting on the roof of his car.

“Not even close,” I said, smiling.

He nodded, looking satisfied. “Good.”

I slid into my car, the warmth of his gaze lingering long after I drove away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

That night, lying in bed, I stared at my phone for what felt like forever before typing out a message.

Tuesday, September 10, 2024 Today, 11:51PM ME: Today was fun.

It took him less than a minute to reply.

MATT: It was. MATT: So…next time tacos are on me?

I smiled, shaking my head.

ME: You’ve got yourself a deal.

His response was almost immediate:

MATT: Finally I get my chance to woo you like a true gentleman

I set my phone on the nightstand, a quiet laugh escaping me as I pulled the covers up.

It was still new, still uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next day felt like it dragged on forever. My morning classes passed in a blur, and by the time my last lecture ended, I was practically buzzing with nerves. It wasn’t every day that a 6'8" hockey player casually showed up on campus to meet me.

When I stepped out of the lecture hall, Matt was already there, leaning against the bike rack like he belonged on a billboard instead of a college campus. He was wearing a dark hoodie pulled low over his head and a pair of sunglasses, the kind of look that screamed “trying not to be recognized” while also being ridiculously conspicuous.

“You know,” I said as I approached him, “if you’re trying to blend in, you’re doing a terrible job.”

He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing that lopsided grin of his. “Hey, this is my best incognito look. Don’t knock it.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the sight of him. “You look like you’re about to rob a convenience store.”

“Well, I’ve got to protect my reputation,” he said, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the parking lot. “Can’t have anyone finding out I’m sneaking off campus with the coolest girl here.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’m sure people are lining up to take pictures of me.”

“Maybe they should be,” he shot back, his tone light but sincere enough to make my cheeks warm.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out behind me “Y/N! Hey, is that you?”

I turned sharply, spotting my friend Rachel walking across the quad toward us. My stomach flipped, and not in a good way. Rachel wasn’t the kind of person to let something like this slide without a million questions.

Matt glanced at me, his brow raised in silent question.

“That’s my friend,” I muttered, already feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “We need to go.”

“Why?” he asked, though he was already moving with me as I grabbed his arm.

“Because if she sees us together, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Without thinking, I laced my fingers through his and tugged him along, my heart racing as we half-walked, half-jogged toward the parking lot.

“Y/N!” Rachel called again, her voice closer now.

“Move faster,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to see her gaining on us.

Matt didn’t say a word, but his hand tightened around mine, his long strides easily keeping pace with me. It wasn’t until we reached his rental car that I realized how ridiculous we must look—a frantic girl dragging a guy who could probably pick her up with one hand.

He unlocked the car with a quick press of a button, and I all but shoved him toward the driver’s side. “Get in, get in!”

He chuckled as he opened the door, sliding into the seat. “You’re surprisingly bossy when you’re in panic mode.”

“Just drive!” I said, slipping into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind me.

Rachel reached the edge of the parking lot just as Matt pulled out, her confused expression shrinking in the rearview mirror. I exhaled a long breath, leaning back against the seat.

“That,” Matt said, his tone amused, “was the most exciting escape I’ve ever had on a college campus.”

I turned to him, realizing our hands were still joined. I quickly pulled mine away, my cheeks burning. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin. “I kind of liked it. Felt like we were in a spy movie or something.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “She’s going to text me like twenty times asking who you are.”

“Just tell her I’m your overly tall, very photogenic friend.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in my chest finally easing. Despite the chaos, it was hard to feel anything but light when I was with him.

As we drove toward the movie theater, I stole a glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe this wasn’t how I imagined today going, but holding his hand—even for a moment—felt like the start of something I hadn’t dared to dream about before.

The drive to the movie theater was filled with a mix of banter and quiet moments that felt just as comfortable. He’d picked a smaller theater in a nearby neighborhood, one that wasn’t likely to attract too much attention.

“I thought we’d try to keep it low-key, and Google said this cinema gets an average of 12 customers a day,” he said as we pulled into the parking lot.

“Smart move,” I replied, glancing around at the unassuming building.

Matt climbed out of the SUV, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, I watched him scramble around the front of the car to the passenger side. He paused dramatically before opening the door for me, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Chivalry’s not dead, huh?”

“Not when I’m involved,” he said with a wink.

Inside, we bought our tickets and a ridiculous amount of snacks, Matt insisting on carrying everything because “it’s the least I can do.”

“You’re single-handedly keeping this theater in business,” I teased as he precariously balanced the popcorn, candy, and drinks.

We found seats near the back of the theater, and as the lights dimmed, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. He was focused on the screen, a faint smile on his lips, but as if sensing my gaze, he turned his head and caught me.

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Just…it’s still weird seeing you in real life.”

He chuckled softly. “I could say the same about you.”

The movie started, and for a while, we both fell into the story, sharing laughter and the occasional whispered comment. It felt easy, natural—like we’d done this a hundred times before.

At one point, his hand brushed mine as he reached for the popcorn. Neither of us moved away immediately, and I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine. My breath caught, but I forced myself to focus back on the screen, my pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the movie.

When the credits rolled, we lingered for a moment, neither of us in a hurry to leave. But eventually, we made our way back to his car under the soft glow of the streetlights, the air between us buzzing with unspoken words.

“So,” he said as we climbed in, “on a scale of one to ten, how bad was that movie?”

I laughed. “Solid six. But the company made up for it.”

“Good save,” he said, his grin widening as he started the car.

The drive back to my apartment was quieter, the kind of silence that felt companionable rather than awkward. When he pulled up to the curb outside my building, I hesitated for a moment before unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Thanks for today,” he said, his tone softer now. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” I replied, feeling the truth of it settle in my chest.

He leaned against the steering wheel, looking at me like he wanted to say something more. Finally, he asked, “See you tomorrow?”

I nodded, my smile growing. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As he drove away, I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, the cool night air brushing against my skin. My cheeks ached from smiling, and my heart felt a little lighter.

Whatever this was between us—whatever it might turn into—I couldn’t wait to find out.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next day came faster than I expected. Between classes and trying to focus on a group project, my mind kept drifting back to Matt. I hadn’t told my friends much, only that he was “someone I’d been talking to for a while.” It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the full truth.

When my last class ended, I stepped outside into the warm late-afternoon sun, scanning the parking lot for Matt. I spotted him leaning against the rental car, sunglasses on and arms crossed casually. He looked so effortlessly cool that I almost laughed.

“You trying to be in a movie poster or something?” I called as I approached.

He grinned, pushing the sunglasses up onto his head. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling anyway.

He opened the passenger door for me—again—and I didn’t bother teasing him this time. “You’re really consistent with this chivalry thing,” I said as I climbed in.

“Hey, I have to make up for all the times I couldn’t do it over FaceTime,” he replied, shutting the door behind me before jogging around to the driver’s side.

The drive to the beach was easy, the salty air growing stronger as we got closer. He’d suggested a sunset picnic, complete with food he’d picked up from a local spot he’d “googled extensively.”

“So, how was class?” he asked as we walked down to the sand, a blanket slung over his arm and a bag of food in hand.

“Pretty boring compared to this,” I said, gesturing at the ocean stretching out before us. “You’re setting the bar pretty high, Manhattan.”

“Good. I like a challenge,” he said, spreading the blanket out in a spot with a perfect view of the water.

We sat side by side, unwrapping sandwiches and chips as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The conversation flowed easily, moving from his last game to my classes to random trivia.

“You know,” he said between bites, “I was worried this might be weird.”

“Weird how?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like…what if we didn’t click in person the way we do over text or FaceTime?” He hesitated, then added, “But it’s not weird. It’s better.”

His words caught me off guard, and I looked down at the sandwich in my hands, suddenly hyperaware of how close we were sitting.

“I feel the same,” I admitted quietly.

For a moment, the only sound was the gentle crash of the waves. Then he turned to me, his expression soft but serious. “So, does this count as a date, or do I need to up my game?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You tell me. You’re the one who planned it.”

“Well, if it is a date,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “I think it’s going pretty well.”

I didn’t have a clever comeback for that, so I just smiled, letting the moment settle around us. The sky darkened as we lingered on the blanket, the distant sound of seagulls fading into the rhythmic crash of waves. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to leave, the easy flow of conversation filling the space between us.

“I’m impressed,” I said, gesturing to the now-empty food containers. “You didn’t oversell this picnic thing. It was actually really good.”

Matt smirked, brushing some sand off his hands. “High praise coming from someone who almost turned me down for this.”

“Almost,” I emphasized. “But I didn’t.”

“And aren’t you glad you didn’t?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist, maybe,” he shot back, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a gust of wind whipped past us, tugging at my hair and sending a shiver down my spine. Without a word, Matt shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to me.

“Here,” he said.

“You don’t have to—”

“Just take it, San Diego,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent.

I gave in, slipping the hoodie over my head. It was warm and smelled faintly of his cologne, a mix of woodsy and clean that made my stomach flip. “Thanks,” I mumbled, tugging the sleeves over my hands.

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning back again, his gaze drifting out toward the ocean.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the stars beginning to dot the darkening sky. I glanced over at him, his profile outlined by the soft glow of the moonlight.

“You look like you belong here,” I said without thinking.

He turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “What, on a beach?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean…just, here. Like this. Relaxed. Happy.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked at me like I’d said something important, something that mattered.

“I think that’s because of you,” he said quietly.

My heart skipped, the weight of his words settling in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

“You don’t have to say things like that,” I said, trying to play it off, though my voice wavered slightly.

“But I mean it,” he replied, his tone steady.

The vulnerability in his gaze made it impossible to look away. For a brief, reckless moment, I considered leaning in, closing the small distance between us.

But then he broke the tension with a smirk. “Plus, if I said it’s because of the sandwiches, I’d sound like a jerk.”

I laughed, grateful for the reprieve. “You’re lucky you’re funny, Rempe.”

“I’m lucky for a lot of things,” he said, his voice softer now.

The words hung in the air, and I didn’t know what to say in response. Instead, I leaned back, letting the sound of the waves and the warmth of his hoodie wrap around me like a shield against the uncertainty of whatever this was turning into.

As the night deepened, he finally stood and offered me a hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you home before you freeze.”

I took his hand, the touch grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. “Thanks,” I said, letting him pull me to my feet.

“For what?”

“For tonight,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It was…perfect.”

His smile was small but genuine. “Good. Because I don’t plan on this being the last time.”

And as we walked back to the car, I realised I didn’t want it to be, either.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The next morning, I strolled into my lecture hall, clutching a coffee and running a little later than I’d planned. The classroom buzzed with pre-class chatter, students flipping through notes or scrolling on their phones.

Sliding into my usual seat near the middle, I tugged the hood up and slouched in my chair, trying to fight the remnants of sleepiness still clinging to me. Matt’s hoodie—warm, soft, and ridiculously oversized—felt like a comforting cocoon.

“Okay, spill.”

I glanced up to see my friend plop down in the seat next to me, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my outfit.

“What?” I asked, playing innocent as I took a sip of my coffee.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she said, leaning closer. “That hoodie is not yours. Whose is it? And why are you wearing it like it’s a security blanket?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. “It’s just a friend’s. No big deal.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A friend? Since when do you borrow hoodies from friends?”

“It was cold last night, okay?” I said, lowering my voice. “He let me borrow it. End of story.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest. “He? Oh, this just keeps getting better. Is it the same mystery guy you keep texting during literally everything? Because if it is, I need details.”

I groaned, knowing there was no way she’d let this go. “Can we not do this here? Class is about to start.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, smirking. “We’ll circle back.”

As the professor started the lecture, I tried to focus on the material, but my friend’s amused glances made it nearly impossible. I could feel her scheming from two feet away.

Halfway through class, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Subtly, I glanced at the screen under the desk.

Friday, September 13, 2024 Today, 9:15am MATT: Good morning, San Diego. MATT: Hope my hoodie’s getting a better education than I ever did.

I bit back a smile, quickly typing a reply.

ME: It’s sitting through Intro to Philosophy. I think it misses the rink.

His response came almost immediately.

MATT: Pretty sure it’s thrilled to be near you.

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I tucked my phone away before my friend could notice.

After class ended, my friend caught up with me as we walked out of the building. “Okay, so who is he?” she demanded.

I sighed. “He’s…a guy I’ve been talking to for a while. It’s nothing serious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re wearing his hoodie in public. That’s at least medium serious.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He’s someone I met through mutual friends, and we’ve been hanging out. That’s all.”

“For now,” she said knowingly. “But if he’s making you smile like that, I want to meet him. Soon.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that “meeting him” might come with a whole host of complications neither of us was ready for. Instead, I just nodded, tucking my hands into the hoodie pocket and thinking about how things felt a little less complicated when it was just me and Matt.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures and assignments, but my mind kept drifting back to Matt. Every time I reached into the hoodie pocket or caught its faint scent, it was like a little reminder of him, tugging at my thoughts.

By the time I was in my last class of the day—a dull elective I’d taken mostly to fill a credit—I was practically counting the minutes until it ended. That’s when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Frowning, I glanced down at the screen. It was Matt.

Normally, he’d text, especially if he knew I was in class. My stomach tightened as I slipped out of my seat, mouthing a quick “bathroom” to the professor before ducking into the hallway to answer.

“Hey, everything okay?” I asked, ducking into the hallway.

“Not really,” he said, his voice rushed and tinged with frustration. “I’m on my way to the airport.”

“What?” I stopped in my tracks, clutching the phone tighter. “Why? I thought you were staying through the weekend.”

“I was,” he said, letting out a sharp breath. “But they’re making all the Rangers players fly back to New York ASAP. Something about scheduling changes and needing to finalize practice rink times. It’s a mess.”

My heart sank. “Matt…”

“I’m so sorry,” he cut in, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want to just leave without saying anything. This wasn’t supposed to happen, San Diego. I swear, I thought we had more time.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly, though disappointment clawed at my chest.

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “I feel like an ass. I dragged you into this, made plans, and now I’m bailing. I hate it.”

I leaned against the wall, wishing I could reach through the phone and shake him out of his guilt. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Stuff happens, right? It’s not like you’re choosing to leave.”

There was a pause, filled with the muffled sounds of an airport terminal. Then he sighed. “I just… I don’t want this to mess things up between us. This weekend was supposed to be about spending time together.”

“Matt,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “it’s fine. Really. We’ve been friends this long, even across time zones. What’s a little more distance?”

Another pause, then a low chuckle that was more sigh than laugh. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Just call me your personal pep talker,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Then, with a wry grin, I added, “Besides, it’s Friday the 13th. What did we expect? Things to go smoothly?”

That got a real laugh out of him, warm and familiar even through the phone. “You’re probably right. Should’ve seen it coming.”

“Definitely,” I replied, my smile lingering even as my chest tightened.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his tone firm now. “As soon as I can, I’ll be back. And next time, we’ll do things right.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I replied, forcing a cheerfulness I didn’t entirely feel.

“Okay,” he said, softer now. “I’ll text you when I land. And thanks for…you know, not being mad.”

“Safe travels, Manhattan,” I said, my voice quieter.

“You too, San Diego,” he murmured before the call ended.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, the empty hallway feeling just a little colder, before heading back into class. If the past few months had taught me anything, it was how to keep moving forward—even when the person I wanted most was miles away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued (one last time)... hehehe

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nanochittle · 3 days ago

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@aristarxs i love you so so so much. I absolutely adore talking to you, and every single time i see you come online, i smile. You make me happy. You always listen to me when i need it. Thanks for everything <33

@theetherealraphael husbandddd i love youuuu. You're always so nice to me, I really like being your friend and partner, and really hope we can stay that way. Thanks for putting up with me. <33

@wet-leaf you are honestly such a great friend to me. You help me out a lot and are generally always very sweet. Thanks for always being there for me when i need it, it helps a lot. I love youuu <33

@walking-at-nighttime-is-the-life boyfrend :D you are genuinely so awesome. I enjoy talking to you and am very grateful to be your friend and partner. You're so incredibly helpful whenever i need it, like seriously, how are you so awesome with words. Also, YOUR ART??? /VPOS

@marbledew Wife!! I love you so much, you're always so sweet. I am really happy you decided to talk to me back in august. Thanks for always beinh there for me whenever i need it.

@theoretical-ink youre such a good friend to me, i enjoy your presence. Thanks for being my friend. I am also chomping your art btw /pos

@some-rando-with-internet BROTHERRRR i love you so much /gen. I am so happy i get to be your little sibling. You're honestly so nice and awesome. I really enjoy rping with you and and hearing about your lore, it's awesome /gen. Also, your entire sys is so niceeee, please tell them i love them too (EEE says hi to Alice btw)

@fandomhasrottedme i love you a lot, i really enjoy being your friend and rping with you. You're a very nice person and i hope we can stay friends for a long time

@cp-snitch i know we haven't talked a lot lately, but i still consider you a very good friend of mine. Thanks for being my friend, i love you a lot. If you want, you can always reach out to me, i like talking to you!!

@random-chaos-and-stuff you're very sweet. I always love it when you send me posts, they're all very interesting to me, please keep spamming me <33

@yourlocalxiaosimp friendddd i love youuu. I haven't known you for a long time, but i have enjoyed every minute of knowing you. Pls keep tagging me in your art, it's awesome.

@2zam i really really like talking to you, you're a great friend to me. /gen

I am kinda running out of time, so I'm just gonna tag some more people i really enjoy being friends with. Just because i didn't write something personal for y'all, doesn't mean i love y'all less, i love y'all a lot <33

@sarah-ankh @homocidalpotat @irishfry @deltanerd24601 @meatierbunger @mothco002 @thee-silly-0ne @theshelteredbrat @thatoneaceidiot @official-ireland

I know 2024 has been a hard year for most of y'all, and i am very proud of y'all for making it through, i hope the new year will be better <33

Thanks for being my friend, y'all, all of you have made me very happy <33

(Im so sorry if i forgot people-)

@ollie-arts67 @thebritishdragon @lemonboywriter @daydreamnightshade @monsterartt @ashmeertheimp @bl0si @oddlyvoid @echofall @lemonboywriter @lost-terrorzz @psychoaddison @dynamicsimp @pittdpeaches @keykittygirl @kyri45 @peasantflour @all my moots :3

Idc if I dropped this in your ask box yet :3

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icarusredwings · 2 days ago

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Carly Crocker

(Not to be confused with Carly Boothe, That's Al's girlfriend, This is Beast's wife, Story of Wade meeting her at the end)

The beauty and the beast episode pissed me off, so let's go, In finding home AU Carly Anne Crocker (aka the ex blind girl) shows up later to the mansconfesses her feelings to Hank. This time, Jeans words ring in his head about letting a girl decide how much she wants to risk and can't turn her away. If anything, he is overwhelmed with joy. I mean, come on, it doesn't take a genius to know he struggles with romance so the fact that he loved her so much and let her go, and she still came back to him? It's enough to make his entire face purple and spin her around. And if you're wondering, 'Do they replace Scott and Jean as the mansion 'lovebirds' ?'

YES. Yes, they do. Because there is not a word that describes how utterly whipped he is for her, and she sees no one else the way him, even before the operation. She can still recognize him by scent and foot steps alone.

Now that I fixed that, here's some head canons.

Carly, now that she stays at the mansion, can quickly be unnoticeable, especially if you don't go in the basement or the lab. Most people only first meet/ notice her when he comes upstairs with her on his arm.

She is mainly seen talking with Jean, but she has no distaste for any of the others. Anyone can come talk to her, and she would be more than happy to talk. She does occasionally ask questions that might seem personal, letting her curiosities of her new friends get to her.

Asking Kurt why his tail wraps around peoples legs when he hugs them, asking Kitty what would happen if she accidently got stuck in a wall, asking Ororo why she was claustrophobic, asking Logan what it was like in the 1800s. Asking Remy what it was like growing up on the streets with his type of powers. She once even asked Charles if he had regrets about opening a school.

Some things she just stook to asking Hank about. Like why Rouge didn't have a very strong trust in other women other than the ones on the team. Or How Scott delt with all the preasure of somehow representing the X men when the entire world seemed to dislike them until a time of crisis when heros are needed.

For the most part, he'd quote something at her or give her a simple awnser. "My dear, Rouge has had a hard life, and not a great time with her mother. I would steer clear of asking her this directly seeing as you dont wish to upset her, do you?" Its asked in a genuine stand point. Never trying to shame her into not being curious.

Of course, she doesn't wish to upset her friends. But there is so many lies on the media and they hold struggles she couldn't possibly understand without asking.

Hank is very chivalrous, between opening doors, taking her hand when they go up the steps, writing her notes, looks away when he feels shes indecent (dispite them having gotten married almost asap) Brings her small gifts of flowers and cakes, anything really he finds she might enjoy.

Being practically attached to the hip, she learns a lot of things and becomes somewhat of an assistant type, bringing him things, scolding him for staying up too late, forcing him to take breaks in order to eat, teasing him as a last resort. It's very Pepper Potts of her really.

Except Hank isn't like Stark. He listens (most days 🙄) seeing as he finds Carly can be very.. distracting.. when she wants too.

Mainly, She dosn't call him beasts unless she is saying "My Beast" or "Youre the only beast in my heart." Sappy stuff like that drives Hank insane. What also makes him a bit looney is when she refers to herself as "Mrs. McCoy." Or calls for him with a sweet low "Oh, Henry~"

Other than that, it's either Hank, Dr. McCoy or just Sweetie.

Carly also doesn't mind him hanging from things. She finds it cute and often teases him about Spiderman kissing her. She also simply adores when the bed dips down low and she can cuddle him like a huge teddy. Who needs a blanket when your husband was covered in the softest fur you've ever felt?

Sometimes Carly brushes him out, to save the drain later you know? But also it felt nice to get him to finally relax and lean into her. She would kiss his face and tell him how handsome he is, dragging the brush across his arms and chest, giggling at how love drunk he looks.

Other times, when Carly got cold she'd just come to him and he'll hold her while working, walking around with her in his arm, her snuggled up on his shoulder. Something Carly has learned is that Hank is very touchy. Almost starved for it so she dosn't mind being carried or held.

He rubs her back, pecking kisses onto her head while he types up something or reads. Sometimes the children make fun of him, comparing carly and him to when king kong grabs that girl and climbs the empire state building. It makes Hank a bit upset but Carly giggles because they have no clue just how safe she feels in his arms.

I wanna assume that during her periods he carries her extra and wraps one of those travel heating pads around her, gives her pain meds and makes her food. Domestic stuff that really just makes you wanna AUUUGGHH when you think about it cause god damn hes a romantic.

At first, Hank, being so gentle with her was sweet. How gently he'd hold her in bed, how softly he'd be sure to grip her when carrying her. But Carly gets a bit frustrated when Hank acts like she's made from glass.

I can see him humming Mozart to her, calling her Dear 24/7, quoting poetry to her, being sure to kiss her before he leaves on missions, etc.

He is OBSESSED when she wears his white coat because its so big on her. He thinks its adorable and cant help but stare when ever he sees her walking around in it. (Even though she lowkey looks like the pope) Carly likes wearing it when its cold in the lab or when shes taking a nap in his library chair because it smells like him. Hank has many pictures of her but one of his favorites is when you fell asleep in his chair while wearing his coat and you can clearly see in the picture that you dozed off while reading. He thinks its absolutely the best thing in that stupid cellular device.

I can definitely see their first night together- TOGETHER being something difficult. Hes too gentle with her and it takes her riling him up to get him to fuck her properly. She fully understands what shes getting into and they have plenty of time and lube, so why not?

"Henry my darling, I love you very much, and I know you are scared but I am not damaged, I'm not going to shatter if you touch me. I'm not an old vase, I am your wife. One who is capable of deciding when it's enough. So please.. stop treating me like im a pricless artifact."

"B-but you are priceless-"

"Henry-" she gives him this look of 'quit the bs'

"O-okay... I suppose I can try.."

Once she breaks his whole "I can't be too rough or ill hurt her cause shes human" bullshit mindset, It's insane.

No, they aren't rabbits but it is quite frequent and its a shock how they haven't gotten pregnant yet.

If anything its like they both cant get enough of each other, between the whispers she does in his ear to his hands around her waist all the time.

Sweet jesus. Poor Logan. He has to hear all this. He (both old logan and worst logan) is very happy for his friend but GOD he didnt ever think he'd hear someone moan 'Oh fuck- Henry!' before as loudly as Carly does. Jesus sometimes he wishes he didnt have super hearing.

It's not until Storm mentions that Hank has a wife during orientation, in which Wade finds out, and clearly, he has to go tease her about it.

Sliding onto the stainless steel work place he smirks. He's in his regular clothes today so he fully expects her to scream. She dosn't.

"Oh.. Hello. Dr. McCoy is out at the moment." She says, like an assistant does.

He smiles all big and leans forward. "So you're married to big blue huh?"

Quite proudly she smiles. "Yes. I am."

"Wwooww good for him. Actually, it's no good for you." The first part seems normal, but it's never normal with Wade. "Does he bend you over that table over there?" He blurts out. Well shit- that was suppose to stay inside.

But Carly already is smirking. "Yes, he does. It's deeply sanitized."

Wades eyes widden as if he had hit jackpot. Everyone in this stuffy place was all stuck up and prim and proper. So to hear Carly straight up admit this felt like immediate friendship.

"Wooo look at you girl. Get it. But I gotta ask. Why?"

"Why the table or why did I marry him?"

"Oooh... Both!"

"Well, A. It's fun. B. He's a good man. He's very sweet to me, even when I was blind I knew there was something about him. He cares for me so much more then anyone else has."

Wade feels like he can relate. He wants to say something honest like 'Yeah, He is a pretty good guy isnt he?' But instead his brain had other ideas.

"What? You into weird lookin mutants or something?" He makes a face that would have been wiggling his brows, if he had any.

It makes Carly shake her head, giggling.

"Well, not particualry but... You know what they say about guys with big feet.."

This made sense about wolvie actually..

He gasps loudly, hand coming to his mouth. "You naughty gal!! So it is true. You know, I've always wondered myself."

"Mmh. Now that I awnsered your questions, you have to awnser mine about the Wolverine."

"Ooh smart. Did your research I see. Who warned you I was coming?"

She gigles again. "My husband."

"Ahh that snitch. So. What do you wanna know? Im an open book but I do have a lying disorder. Full warning."

"Is it true what they say? That canadians make good lovers?" She asks, leaning on the table that Wade was now kicking his feet on.

"Unless...y'know... if you're into that sort of thing." This last bit is a whisper as Wade daintily flashes the tags around his neck while trying to give her a flirty face. "I'm owned, baby! You can't have me. Im too expensive."

He gasps again, putting a hand to his chest. "Woah woah woah! Ladies! Calm down. Im a married man!!"

COUGH engaged. Actually COUGH

Again, Carly shakes her head, giggling. Goodness. What a character this one was. "No, unfortunately, I am not. And im sure you are."

"Well, good! Cause if you break my friends heart ill rip yours out." He says, smiling, but you could tell behind those moonstone eyes that there was no joke about it.

"If I ever break his heart, I'll rip it out myself." Carly says, staring him dead center. She wasn't afraid. Should she be? Yes. But she wasn't. Because she knows the only way Hank was getting rid of her was if he cheated or hit her.

Just as he was about to say something else, he turns, hearing a "Wade?" In which suddenly he gasps again, drimatically. "Woah!! Stay off me lady! You're married!! What would ol hanky panky think about this!?" It's loud, over the top, and he even holds himself like carly was just trying to strip him all while she stood there, crossed arms, hip out and only a slightly entertained smirk.

"Really?"

"Wade what do you need?" Said blue guy asks, coming around to set down two lunch trays.

"Your wifes tryna get dirty with the poole Hank!" He says and now theres two people giving him a stupid look.

"Yeah.. riiigghhhtt.... anyway. I believe Logan is looking for you. Shall I tell him you're busy?"

Wade grins widely as he jumps off the table. "Nope. Have a wonderful day. Great meeting you. You're nothing like my roommate's girlfriend Carly, though. She's polish. You dont look polish-"

"Wade.."

"Bye! My HUSBAND is callin me!" He says, practically skipping away, out of their hair and into someone elses.

".. What a weird man." She says, watching him go. "Indeed..."

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starhvney · 11 hours ago

Text

a requester asked: Travis, Garroth, Laurance, and Gene from MCD with tea, cream, and pumpkin bread. If that works! If it makes any sense star, have an amazing day and don’t overwork yourself!!!

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟗: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: romantic tension, fluff, teaching/training/mentoring a skill

𝐚/𝐧: i LOVED this one hehe thanks for requesting, and have an amazing day/night! i’ll try not to overwork myself hhahahash but we shall see

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to go so hard back there…” Travis winces as he sits on a suitable log, holding up his arm to look at the deep cut he’d acquired in your sparring match.

“I’m really sorry,” you genuinely apologize, sitting next to him. “I thought you were paying attention to my swing.”

“I guess I was distracted by something…” He bites his lip, a fox-like grin spreading on his face that puts his fanged canines on display. “But, ah… I’ve had much worse than this, don’t worry.”

It doesn’t ease much of your guilt, and you reach to gently hold his arm–inspecting it with a frown.

“...If you really want to apologize, why don’t you patch me up?” he suggests, pulling his pack from his back and setting it in your lap.

“I don’t really know how to that well,” you hesitate, eyes wide when he pulls out a needle and thread, setting it in your hands as he wipes the blood from his wound with a clean cloth.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he grins. “I only need a few anyways. It should be easy to do.”

“Uh…”

“Trust me. You’re not gonna hurt me anymore than you already did, beautiful,” he leans closer, eyes lidded as his face hovers near yours.

“I’ll add another cut,” you warn, and the impish man backs away with a chuckle.

“Alright! I can take a hint,” he places his uninjured hand over his chest theatrically. “Even though it hurts.”

He points down at his wound, giving you a pouted lip. “Now, could the pretty woman please grace my wounds with her touch before I bleed out?”

You situate the thread and needle in your hands, feeling nervous again. “Okay… how should I do this?”

“Just carefully thread it through the first couple layers of skin there and pull. Not too deep that out hurts but also not too shallow that it doesn’t hold,” he explains, leaning over you as you carefully do as he says. “Then loop it around there and pull gently… not too tight but enough to connect the skin together again.”

He only winces a bit as he talks, seeming used to the pain. He was right, only a few stitches were needed before the wound was closed, and the healing ointment and bandages he also had in his pack made finishing the job rather quick and easy.

“How’d you learn this?” you ask, as you finish tying it off the end of the bandage.

“Well, not many doctors would accept the son of the Demon Warlock,” he says quietly. “After so many failed attempts of doing it on your own, you eventually learn.”

A wave of sadness washes over you at the admission, the image of a younger version of Travis in pain and tears as he fails to nurse his own injuries heartbreaking to think about. Green eyes dart over your face when you remain speechless, and the man quickly jumps to his feet.

“But! Now you and I both know their technique, so what good are they for anyways?” With his hand held out, he bows to you, offering help to bring you to your feet.

You take it, standing with a quiet sigh.

“Hey, don’t look so upset. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been now that such a fine-looking face worried over me.”

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

Your breath creates steam in the cold air as you stand in front of the dummy, the burlap sacks sliced and stabbed in several places; causing their hay insides to spill onto the ground. Despite the cold, you were warmed up from how long you’d been training with the head guard today, and you’d even shed a layer of your heavy clothing in the process.

Of course, the man in charge of your combat lesson naturally ran hotter than you, so you were both blessed and subjected to his upper half only to be covered by his linen undershirt. Every time he’d demonstrate a way he wanted you to swing or how to change your footwork, your eyes would drift to the thick muscles that pulled against his sleeves and stretched the material over his chest.

Truly, it wasn’t your fault! He was tall enough that those assets happened to be directly within your line of sight, so if anything it was his fault for… being so tall and muscular!

“…No, that’s not what I showed you…” Garroth sighs gently when you once again mess up your stance. Seeming as you hadn’t been paying close attention to his feet when he’d given you a demonstration, you were a bit lost when he put you on the spot.

Walking up to your side, strong arms come around either side of you as he adjusts your grip, his leg coming between yours to push your feet out. You have to stop yourself from letting your jaw fall completely to the floor, the proximity of the man towering over you nearly scrambling any semblance you had left to remain professional.

“You seem distracted today. Are you feeling well?” He asks as he steps away, a concerned look in his eye as he looks over your face.

“Um… no, I’m perfectly fine…” You chuckle nervously, dipping your sword a bit as you scold yourself for your obviousness.

“Are you sure?” he frowns, strong hand landing on your shoulder and squeezing in an act of comfort. It only heats your skin on fire, sending your thoughts reeling. “We can take a break, if you need to.”

“No. I’m alright,” you breathe. “Let’s continue.”

“…Alright, then let’s change from practicing offense to defense,” he gives in to your insistence, walking over to pick up a shield and place it on your arm.

The distance he puts between you a moment later gives you a moment to breathe, but not before he’s readying himself to attack. A sense of panic takes over you as you move to ready yourself, his nod for your short spar to begin coming all too soon.

He charges, and in one swipe the shield is immediately knocked from your hands, the force of his strength immediately overtaking you. You stumble back, and you’re sure you’re set to fall right down on your back as your feet lose their balance.

With a yelp, you tense for the impact, but you only fall for a split second before a hand tightly wraps around your arm. His sword dully falls against the training ground dirt before his other hand shoots your other side, pulling you up in a quick motion to your feet.

Briefly, you’re pressed against his chest, his heart racing against your ear and arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. He’s warm, so warm, that you almost forget the reason he was holding you in the first place. The brief sense of his strong muscles pressed against you is taken away when he pulls you back enough to get a good look at you.

His eyes are wide, unblinking, darting across your form and checking for injuries. “I think… this has been enough training for today. Are you okay?”

You manage a nod, focused in on the rising blush against his ears and cheeks. “Yes.”

“…Good. Now, how about I treat you to a meal?”

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

“One thing Garroth hasn’t taught you is the art of smooth-talking,” Laurance leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. The calm breeze of the day rushed past the two of you as you sat on the edge of the guard tower, looking out on the village. “It can get you out of any sticky diplomatic situation.”

You cross your arms, humming with a raised brow. “Ah, yes. Something you know all about, huh?”

“I’d never deceive you if that’s what you’re implying,” he says with an offended gasp. “By my honor!”

You can’t help but laugh, turning away to attempt to hide it from him to no avail. When you turn back, he’s looking at you with a soft gaze and quirked lip. He hums, smile widening as he watches your eyes dart away shyly.

“I’m serious, though,” he starts, tilting his head at you with an intent look. “I don’t want you to be in a situation where simply swinging your sword around isn’t going to work and you end up in trouble.”

You deadpan.

“Are you saying I’m a brute or are you insulting my ability to communicate?”

He tilts his head back, hearty laughter dancing into the air as a hand reaches up to his stomach. “Neither! Though if you were a brute you sure are the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

For everything that is good, he really can never let up on his flirting, can he? You lower your head, giving him a glowering look at his insistent teasing within every sentence he utters to you. It wasn’t fair to your poor heart, as it betrayed you with its quick beating in your chest. The way you were never able to fully gain your composure next to him was entirely frustrating.

“Will you continue to display how good you are at smooth talk or are you going to teach me?”

A snort leaves his lips. “Well your methods of intimidation need some work, too-”

You swing, narrowly missing his arm before he scoops your hands up in his. “Hey now! What did I just say about using words over violence? Not off to a good start, huh?”

He softens his smile, lowering your hands. “You have to be personable. To play on the other’s weakness to get the answer you want. I’ll give you an example.”

With a subtle tilt of his head and a pleading lift of his lashes, the man leans forward, his voice softening. “My lady, your forced indifference wounds me to my very core. Can’t you consider my advances as genuine?”

Your body betrays you once again as a rush of blood rises to your cheeks. You’re quick to look away, attending your focus back on the village below you.

“Does that work on most ladies?”

“Oh my, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” he moves his head to get a better look at your expression, his eyes eating up the slight pout on your lips. “I hope you know the only woman I have eyes for is you…”

You don’t respond, and he forms his own answer with an almost giddy smile. He’s quick to return to his suave demeanor only a moment later. “I see. Well, what’s your response? Give me your best shot.“

His smug reaction is enough to make your pride stubbornly rear its head. So you turn to him again, eyes narrowed and face coming only inches from his as you give a similar look that he’d given you only a moment prior.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep teasing and distracting me on the job,” you whisper scoldingly. “Don’t you think it’s unfair to a subordinate to tempt them all the time from wanting to do anything but their assignment?”

The smug look is replaced with a look of awe and an almost unnoticeable hitch of air caught in his throat. He dares to lean in closer, eyes longing as they drift down to your lips, his own parting for a moment before he clears his throat, leaning back again.

“Ah, good job,” he smirks, though his cheeks are flushed. “Consider me charmed. Though, I already was, so how fair of an assessment can I give…?”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

Wind rushes by your ears as you sprint further into the forest, your breaths quick as you stare down at the ground ahead of you, your feet searching for the quietest part of the ground to step on. Still, the leaves and twigs crunch under your boots, and your lungs loudly gasp for air–the noise echoing off the trees around you.

A large tree looks promising ahead, the trunk wide enough for you to side behind if only for a moment to rest. Your hand meets the rough bark as you swing around to the other side, pressing your back flat against it.

In nature, animals and bugs can sense when there’s a shift in the normalcy of their small lives. They can feel when the energy shifts; when there’s something dangerous nearby. A predator. Something that wasn’t meant to be there.

You can feel it too.

Even if you didn’t, the nature around you gives plenty of warning. There’s no bird chatter or the distant rustling of bushes as critters search for a snack. Eerie silence save for the rushing of blood in your ears settles over, sending a fearful spike of adrenaline through your legs. You can’t tell if it was going to make you take off in another spurt of energy or if it would make you collapse down onto the bed of grass beneath you.

There’s not much time for you to decide which it is before an almost intentional snap of a twig under what could only be a person’s foot sounds from your left. You quickly twist your neck to look, only to be met with more empty forest before your eyes.

A breath brushes against your right ear, low and amused—and most definitely meant to startle you. Arms snatch around your torso, lifting you into the air and against a built chest as you yelp in surprise.

“You, my dear, are not very good at this.” Gene’s lips press against your ear; his breath unnervingly hot.

You swallow, gasping for air while your feet dangle in the air. Your heart feels like it’s going to leap straight out from your throat with every quick harsh beat, making you dizzy as the chase concludes.

“I made it pretty far.” you gasp, pointing your toes to the ground and still unable to gain footing.

“Yet all of the strategies I’ve shown you were nowhere to be found. I could hear you from a mile away, pretty.”

“It’s not fair, you have an advantage by nature…”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he slowly sets you down, though his arms still keep you trapped against him.

“That’s true… but I don’t know… I’ve been teaching you these techniques all week and you still haven’t caught on at all,” He muses in a teasing tone, grabbing your chin and tilting you up to look at him. “Maybe I just need to follow you around forever to guard you from attacks.”

His dark eyes dance between blue and red, both deep in hue like blood spilling into the deep ocean. It’s dangerously mesmerizing, entrancing despite your very nature fighting against it. A lithe finger taps against your cheek when you don’t offer him any response, his head tilting at you as his tongue runs over his teeth.

“Hm? Is that it? Should I never let you out of my hands?” He suggests, voice bordering something possessive, or maybe an emotion that ran indescribably further down than that. “Maybe you want that.”

A second passes before he lets you go, gently shoving you ahead. “One more. I’ll give you a longer head start this time.”

“H-huh?” you pant, turning around with wide eyes to look at him as he leans against the tree, not looking worn or phased at all. “Right now?”

“One… two…”

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