#like we may be moving away from a situationship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oddinary4bts · 4 months ago

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Sweet | ksj

☆request:

Congratulations on the milestone ! Can we get a Drabble of idol Jin coming back from the military and trying to sort out his situationship with the girl he left behind when he went into the military?

☆pairings: idol!Seokjin x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: idol!au, a bit of angst, fluff and smut

☆warnings: unedited, cursing, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, protected sex (with mentions of unprotected sex), big dick!Jin

☆word count: 3.5k

☆a/n: i did not expect to write smut in this but here we are haha i hope you guys like this one! i had a lot of fun writing it <3

☆☆☆☆☆

It's so sweet, knowing that you love me Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair It's so sweet

Sweet - Cigarettes After Sex

☆☆☆☆☆

Seokjin hasn’t seen you in ages, his military service whisking him away from…

From whatever his relationship with you was. Not quite a relationship, but more than friendship, Seokjin thinks he was too immature a year and a half ago to understand you. But when you sent him a message two days ago to congratulate him for finishing his service, he figured he should see you.

If only so that he can give you the closure he never gave you. Because he practically ghosted you when he started his service, not replying to your messages after his obligatory training where he couldn’t touch his phone anyway.

He felt bad. Horrible even, but the distance seemed necessary after the words you last exchanged.

After you all but confessed your love for him.

It was too much too soon, or maybe he truly was just immature then. Because today, as his car is eating the miles to your apartment, he thinks maybe he was wrong. The heaviness in his chest makes it feel so, as does the rain battering his windshield.

Seokjin parks outside on the street in front of your building, glancing up to see the lights are on in your apartment. His hands turn clammy, and he rubs them on his jeans in a failed attempt to dry them.

It doesn’t work, because the second you’re buzzing him in, they become clammy again and he’s too anxious to even think about drying them again. The anxiety only keeps increasing as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, worrying at some skin on his bottom lip, and it reaches a never-seen-before high as he stops in front of your door.

He takes a deep breath to ease his nerves, thinking about the many times he was here before. That night after your first date - a blind date his friend set up for him - when you told him to come home with him.

He should have known then that it was setting your story in a way that wouldn’t end well for you, to go home with you that night.

Seokjin raises his fist, and he thinks his hand is shaking. He ignores it, pretends he’s as confident as always, and he knocks three times, lowering his hand as he waits for you to open. It doesn’t take you long - he wouldn’t be surprised if you were waiting on the other side of the door.

You’re… beautiful. You were back then, but the months apart have done you good, and Seokjin’s throat dries as he just looks at you, his lips parting on a silent vowel. You just stand there, shining like an angel as a small, shy smile lights your features, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Has never believed it, and though today may not be his first sight of you, it surely renders him speechless, his brain emptying until there’s just you.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice like a melody conjured from a dream.

“Y/n,” he answers, and your name feels right, righter than anything before.

Your smile widens, and you step aside to let him in. He walks in, fully aware of how close your bodies are as you shut the door, but then you move back and he immediately misses your proximity.

What is wrong with him?

“How have you been?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, swallowing. “Better now.”

He means the words. He means them more than he’s ever meant anything in his life, and he thinks you catch the meaning behind his sentence. Because blush creeps on your cheeks, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“What about you?” he quickly adds, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.

“I’m… good,” you answer, and you let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

You’re direct. It’s something he’s always thought was admirable about you, but the revelation hurts, sending a pang through his chest.

“Y/n…” he trails off.

“But you’re here now,” you say, and your smile turns pained, sad.

How many sleepless nights has he caused you?

“I am,” he says, voice small. “I’m sorry.”

“I get it.” You shrug your shoulders. “You were busy with your service, it’s not like it was easy to maintain a…” You never finish the sentence, even though Seokjin waits patiently for you to say it.

For you to acknowledge that it was just a situationship, that maybe you both just played each other.

“I really am sorry, though,” Seokjin insists, looking down at his shoes. “You did not deserve that.”

You nod once, your gaze trailing to the side. “Then, can I ask… Why did you want to see me?”

His heart stops in his chest. He’s still struck by the sight of you, barely unable to form coherent sentences, but you deserve an explanation.

You deserve closure, if that’s what you want.

“I thought…” he trails off, wets his lips before continuing, “I thought you deserved closure.”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

He thinks you’re dismissing him. It feels like you are, like you’re telling him to leave, but he just stands there, drinking your features in.

Choking on the hurt he knows he’s caused.

“I really apologize, Y/n,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “You did not deserve the radio silence. I… I kind of thought it would be better for you, that you deserved better than being stuck with someone that was going to be gone for months.”

“You could have just said so…” you point out.

Seokjin sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground in shame. “I know. I was stupid, and I was immature too. Which is bad considering I’m in my thirties now but… yeah. I’m really sorry.”

You don’t say anything for a time, the silence getting heavier with every second passed. Seokjin meets your gaze, and he wonders if you can tell how guilty he’s been feeling. He thinks you might, because you wet your lips, glancing to the side, and then you say, “You came all the way here to say this?”

He nods. “You deserved better than a text message. When you texted me two days ago, it reminded me of all the good times we’ve spent together.” The truth comes to the surface, and Seokjin whispers it, afraid he’s going to scare you away. “I’ve missed you, Y/n.”

The world must have stopped turning. Time must have stopped, because you just stand there unblinkingly. He’s not sure you’re even breathing. But then slowly, like the first sun rays in the morning, a smile spreads on your lips.

You’re beautiful, too beautiful, and Seokjin can’t believe he got scared last year. He doesn’t think there’s anything scary about the woman standing in front of him.

“And you think I’ll just forgive you like this?” you ask even though you’re smiling.

It’s like a stab to the chest. His heart aches, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to reply. He’s aware he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he wanted to give you his truth.

“I don’t think I deserve it, honestly,” he says. He gulps around a sudden lump in his throat, glancing around your apartment if only so that he can commit it to memory. “But I have missed you. I’ve felt guilty about it for months, but didn’t know how to approach you. Didn’t think you’d want me texting you out of the blue. I just… When you reached out, I just couldn’t let you go without at least having apologized.”

You nod, leaning against the wall as if your legs can’t support you anymore. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He reckons he’s losing you. Not that he really had you to begin with, but Seokjin thinks he’s losing you, and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.

“Of course.”

There’s another silence of lingering heaviness, and then you nod your head. Push up from the wall and walk in your apartment, sitting down on the couch. You offer him a small smile, patting the spot next to you.

“Come in,” you tell him. “Let’s catch up.”

He widens his gaze, not really believing what you just said. But then again, he knows you’re a forgiving person - he’ll make sure you don’t regret your decision.

And he doesn’t think you do. No, you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting, with you telling him all about your work and that annoying coworker that used to get on your nerves last year too. It’s easy, filled with smiles and laughs and reminiscing, and when you invite him for dinner, Seokjin decides to cook for you.

He doesn’t want you to lift a single finger for him, not when he wants to make it up to you. And he thinks he does, to a certain extent. You’re beaming by the time you’ve finished eating, telling him that you missed his food the most, and Seokjin complains that you only like him for his food. You just laugh it off, and then tell him that he’ll have to cook a thousand more meals for you.

Call him crazy, but he knows he will. He’ll cook every meal for you if that means he gets a chance with you again. One that he promises to himself that he won’t fuck up. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t make a move tonight - he tries to respect you, to respect the fact that you might need a bit of distance from him before you want to be with him like that again.

He thinks it was the right decision. He thinks it was worth the weeks of waiting before you kissed him for the first time again, in a different setting this time. At his own apartment, after you’ve had his Jajjangmyeon. You kiss softly, by the door, and Seokjin wonders if you can hear the wild beats of his heart in his chest.

You have to. Because you lay a hand on his chest right above his heart as you pull away from the kiss. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed as you look between his two eyes. And then you say, “I want you tonight.”

Seokjin doesn’t need to hear more. He cups your cheeks, stealing a languid kiss on your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers brush the strands of hair at the back of his head, and then you tug on them a little.

He grunts, pushing you back towards the door. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your heat dangerously close to his dick. He’s already getting hard, blood shooting down from his heart to his cock, and he grinds into you, swallowing the soft moan you let out.

A second later, you tease his bottom lip with your tongue, and Seokjin lets you in, getting drunk to the taste of you. He’s so high with the taste of you that his mind is elsewhere - he doesn’t know how you make it to his bed. All he knows is that, ten minutes later, you’re splayed out on his bed like his own personal feast, and the sight of your glistening pussy makes him go feral.

He kneels between your thighs, hooks your legs on his shoulders before leaning closer, lapping your juices up. You make a breathy sound he remembers from every night he couldn’t sleep during his military service, instead thinking about how much he missed you.

You taste good. You taste sweet and salty, a perfect mix to his senses that makes him forget everything else but you. He circles your clit with his tongue, teases the bundle of nerves before he goes back to your entrance, pushing his tongue in once. You moan, one hand finding his hair to tug at the strands, and you instinctively grind in his face. Seokjin flattens his tongue to let you do it, to let you seek friction on the wet muscle, and then he unleashes himself, eats you out like you’re his last meal on this Earth.

You’re panting already, alternating between mewls and moans by the time he pushes a finger inside of you, fighting against your already tightening walls. They relax when he sucks on your clit, and he takes it as an opportunity to push another finger in, curling his digits to hit the right spot inside of you.

After all, he knows he needs to stretch you out before he’ll be able to fuck you. You’re on the smaller side, and he’s… bigger than a lot of guys, so you do need the stretching. And he’s pleased to oblige, circling your clit, flicking it until your walls start spasming on his fingers. Not even a heartbeat later, you’re coming, his name on your lips in a sinful cry as he rides you through the orgasm, going feral with the sounds you make, and mostly with the taste of you.

His chin is covered with your juices by the time he sits back on his heels. He licks his fingers clean as you watch him through half-lidded eyes, and then he grabs his discarded shirt from the side - he barely remembers getting naked - to wipe his face dry.

You’re naked too. A literal goddess sent from above to grace him with your presence. You’re everything he could have ever wished for, and he still can’t understand how stupid he was last year.

To think he could have had you during the rare breaks from his service…

He was stupid. Stupid, foolish and everything in between, but at least he’s here with you now.

“Wow,” you let out, a small chuckle falling from your lips. You’re visibly fucked out, yet you still manage to rock his world as you reach for his dick, giving him a squeeze. “I want you.”

Shit.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you start stroking him.

“So big…” He grunts at your crude words. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about sex with you for weeks, Jin.”

He looks around, searching for his pants. They’re over by the door, a lot farther away than he imagined they would be. It feels far, too far, considering he’s already nestled between your legs.

“What?” you let out, and you grip him tighter.

He feels it in his balls. He hasn’t had sex in forever - you being the last one before his service - so obviously he knows he won’t last. He’s so horny he thinks he’d be able to come all over your stomach if you keep jerking him off. But he stops you, gently wrapping his hand around yours to restrain your motions.

“Baby,” he breathes out. “Shit, let me grab a condom.”

“You don’t want to fuck me raw?” you tease, biting at your lower lip. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since you.”

The words please him far more than he thought they would. It feels like, maybe, you were his all this time too.

He says your name like a warning, but you only smirk mischievously.

“Afraid I’ll get pregnant?” you add. “Don’t you think we’d make pretty babies?”

You would. He knows damn well you would and it wouldn’t even be because of him. It’d be all you - your beauty is incomparable.

“As much as I want to get you pregnant one day,” Seokjin replies, moving away from you. He misses your hand on him the second you let go, but it’s for the best. “I don’t think we are there yet,” he continues. “But I promise I’ll fuck babies into you one day.”

You close your thighs instinctively at his words as if you’re still searching for friction.

As if you didn’t come on his tongue just a minute ago.

It doesn’t take Seokjin a long time before he’s put a condom on, discarding the package in the trash can next to your bed. You’ve just been watching him, and he kneels back between your legs, his balls already tightening in anticipation.

He rubs his tip on your folds, collecting the glistening juice. Your mouth falls open on a silent moan, especially as he moves to your clit. One of your legs twitches from oversensitivity, or at least he assumes it’s because of that, and he aligns himself with your entrance.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he tells you.

“Don’t you remember how well I could-”

Your words are cut short as Seokjin pushes in, your walls sucking him in slowly and surely until he bottoms out, some of his dick still sticking out of you. You just look at him, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, and Seokjin licks his lips, saying, “You were saying?”

“I’ve missed this.”

Your words ring in his mind, on and on, erasing everything that he is to build him anew, to build him in a way that finally allows him to be with you. His heart fills with warmth, exploding like fireworks, and he bends down to capture your lips in a kiss that means more than words ever could.

He doesn’t move for a while, warming his cock in you while he just keeps on kissing you, not even stopping for breathing. It’s like he doesn’t need it - hell, he thinks all he needs is you. And you kiss him back with so much passion he thinks this is it, he’s reached nirvana.

The feeling perseveres as he slowly pulls his hips back, before pushing forward again, the motion making his entire body tingle with pleasure. He swallows your soft moan, grunts in your mouth as your pussy clenches on him. Your hands are on his back, in his hair, and the second you pull on the strands again, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze.

“You feel so good,” you praise, eyes sparkling.

He smiles softly, pecking your forehead, and then he kneels back to take in the sight of you as he slowly fucks into you, spearing you open. The sight of your pussy swallowing his dick is indecent in the best way, and he progressively increases the rhythm, making sure not to hurt you.

He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did. So he fucks you gently, faster and faster but never hard, not until your hands find his thighs, your nails digging into his skin. He grunts then, swearing underneath his breath, and then says, “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“Jin, it’s okay,” you let out. You smile, wetting your lips. “Just fuck me.”

He lets out what could be considered as a whine, and then his motions grow rougher. He stops himself after a few thrusts, and you meet his gaze, looking slightly annoyed that he stopped.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, okay?” he says as he cups your cheek.

You smile softly, nodding once. “I will, I promise.”

Once the reassurance is finally uttered, Seokjin finally lets himself go, fucking you like his life depends on it. You’re soon moaning loudly, and he has half a thought that his neighbours might hear. But then again it turns him on even more to know he’s the one making you scream like that, and he’s soon moaning with you, praising you as he slowly feels his climax nearing.

But he wants you closer when he comes. Wants to feel you in his arms, to feel his skin on yours. So he leans forward again, caging you between his arms as he keeps fucking you into the mattress. Your nails soon scratch at his back, leaving marks he knows he’ll have to hide but can’t bring himself to care about.

“Fuck, Jin,” you moan, and his head drops in the crook of your neck.

“I’m going to come,” he says, and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as the high finally hits him, and he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.

He thinks he’s floating. He’s just a leaf floating away on a small lake, unbothered by the world. His whole body feels so light, and the only thing tethering him to the present is your arms around his neck.

He’s never come this hard before.

“You okay?” you ask as you rub his back.

He grunts, trying to lift his head but failing. “Holy shit.”

You laugh lightly, and the crystalline sound is what finally brings him back down to Earth, what has to be minutes later.

“Wow.” He chuckles, pecks your lips. “That was amazing.”

You smile, your fingers drawing idle shapes on his back. “It was.”

Seokjin meets your gaze, taking a moment to observe the feelings swirling behind your irises, deep in the depths of your eyes. The emotions are like northern lights, swishing and shining and more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen before.

This time, Seokjin doesn’t get scared. This time, he takes the emotions in, knowing that they are reflected in his own gaze. And though you haven’t told it to each other, he knows that you love him.

And more than that, he knows that he loves you, too.

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys liked it:) let me know what you think about this one shot! love y'all <3

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nottsbitch · 5 months ago

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Casual - T.N.

Summary: Just a girl and her favorite situationship, who are strictly "casual". 18+ contains smut.

Frat Boy Theo

✩✩✩✩

In the semi-dark house, all that could be heard was blaring music, making it impossible to hold a conversation.

You had regretted your decision to come as the smell of sweat surrounded you. But unfortunately for you when Theo wasn’t answering your text you knew exactly where to find him.

Every Friday night his frat would throw a themed party, and when this was going on it was almost impossible to get a hold of him.

As you navigated through the large crowd, you finally spotted Theo on the far side of the room, engaged in animated conversation with a girl you didn’t recognize. Her hand rested casually on his arm, and the way Theo laughed at something she said made a pang of jealousy twist in your gut.

The music seemed to drown out, leaving just the sight of them and the gnawing feeling that perhaps he wasn’t as committed to you as you had hoped. It stung to see him so at ease with someone else, and despite the thrumming bass that filled the room, the ache of your jealousy felt deafening.

You took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd, determination set in your stride. When you reached Theo and the girl, you tapped him sharply on the shoulder.

His smile faltered as he turned to face you, the recognition in his eyes quickly replaced by a flicker of surprise. "Theo, we need to talk," you said, your voice steady but edged with frustration.

The girl looked between you two, clearly sensing the tension, and took a step back, giving you both space. Theo's expression shifted from confusion to concern as he tried to gauge the situation. "What's wrong?" he asked, but you could hear the uncertainty in his tone.

"Oh, I thought something might be wrong, but I’m just thrilled to see you’re perfectly fine here, chatting away." Your tone dripped with sarcasm as you gestured toward the girl he’d been talking to.

"Alright let's talk upstairs, Now," He said quickly pushing you to the stairs trying to avoid any onlookers who may have been listening to the conversation.

Once in his bedroom, Theo was quick with attaching his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your waist as he tried to pull you closer and closer.

As he started walking you backwards towards the bed his lips moved down to your neck.

"This isn't talking" You pushed out trying to hold back your moan, Choosing to attempt to stand your ground upset by the way he was acting.

"Can't we talk about this later?" The look he gave you immediately shutting you up.

You watched as Theo walked to his bed sitting down on the edge before motioning you over "Come here" It came out as a whisper as he gestured to his lap.

As much as you didn't want to you found yourself walking towards him, your arms going around his neck when you reached him pulling him in for another kiss. This went on for what felt like forever your lips together, his hands twisting and pulling at your hair every few minutes.

"You know you're my number one girl." He said smiling as his hands began to tug your shirt over your head. He left a trail of kisses on your exposed skin, as he continued to talk about how you had nothing to worry about, though your anger was long forgotten.

You pulled Theo's head back up to yours, your hands running through his hair before you guys were back to undressing each other.

"You're so gorgeous" Was all you heard from Theo which you almost missed because of how low it came out. "Your not leaving this bed until the only thing you remember is my name."

Shivers ran up your spine as you pulled him down to kiss you for the millionth time, this kiss more aggressive than the rest. Theo had his hands on your sides as he moved over your body. Once situated he moved his hands to yours interlacing your fingers as he pinned you into the mattress. Your tongues fought for dominance the only sound heard was the quiet moans coming from both of your mouths. You could feel the warmth radiating off of his body as you used your legs to pull him even closer.

You pulled apart for one moment "I'll never get tired of looking at you" He said, as his eyes hungrily took in your naked body.

You bit your lip trying not to let his words have too much of an effect on you, remembering that sex was the only thing you were ever going to get from this man.

Your core tightened as you guys made eye contact. The feeling of his skin on yours always left you feeling speechless.

When you leaned back in you kissed him more desperate then you ever had before. Not being able to hold back your moans as you ran your hands from his hair to his shoulders, using them to pull him closer if that was even possible.

He bit your lip before pulling away, much to your displeasure. He had his body positioned between your legs. He gripped your hips painfully tight as he started kissing up your thigh.

As you closed your eyes letting out soft whimpers he took the time to look at you, before slowly pushing one long finger into you and quickly pulling it out again. This causes you to open your eyes and look at him. He admired your wetness on his finger before bringing it to his lips and sucking it clean.

You heart was racing out of control at this point just waiting for him to make a move.

"I want to hear every noise you make, Don't try and stay quiet. Got it?" The most you could do was nod your head. He ran his hand through your hair, moving down your body until he reached where you needed him most.

The next thing you knew, his fingers were on you clit, rubbing slowly. You let out a cry from the pleasure "Theo... Don't stop!"

And he didn't, his fingers continued to work as he moved his head next to yours whispering in your ear "I wouldn't dream of stopping now."

The feeling of his hand caused your arousal to take over your mind. Your legs were starting to shake as your head fell back, every sound coming out of your mouth like you couldn't hold it in. The sounds were going to his head causing him to speed up his pace bringing you closer and closer to your release.

She had never felt this much pleasure moaning loudly as he held your hips, stopping you from grinding against his hand. Then before you expected it a wave of pleasure came over your entire body.

You cried out sharply as Theo continued his pace letting you ride out your orgasm.

That was the start of your night and later as you laid next to a snoring Theo, you could only think how things didn't feel so casual to you .

✩✩✩✩

I'm literally so bad at writing smut if this is bad just let me stay blissfully ignorant

#harry potter #theo nott #matteo riddle #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #slytherin #hp universe #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

Note

Hi it’s j aka @piastrification and i see u are taking smut requests so: jealous!max??? Maybe bc daniel’s getting too familiar wt u but max isn’t ur bf? More of a situationship

Bonus point if daniel was flirting with u to rile max up and is smug with the results

hello ily (also may have written more of a fwb sorrrrrryyyyyyy i blame the beer)

warnings: smut, spanking, fingering p in v, drunk writing lol

Max and Daniel were good friends. The best of friends actually. They knew almost everything about each other. So, when Max started sleeping with the Alpine driver, Daniel was the first to know.

He'd thought that they were cute together, even before they had found out about them.

But then he spent months watching them dance around each other. It was cute and disgusting and he loved and hated it all at the same time.

Daniel took things into his own hand. "You should kiss me," he said to her and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Danny, what the fuck?" She asked with something of a laugh as she looked at him. But she turned to wave at the crowd as the drivers parade happened.

Daniel looked at Max and then quickly back at her. "Or we could go on a date."

She gave him a disapproving look as she moved closer to him. "Daniel," she whispered, her head against his shoulder. "I know you know what's going on with Max and I."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he said as she stood up straight once again.

But Max had seen the entire thing. He glared at them as Lando tried to talk to him. Oh, she was in for it later.

And she really was. Because, not only was Max angry, but he had also won the race (they tended to fuck once he had won the race).

Normally, when Max fucked her after a win, it was sweet and happy and, somehow, cute. But this time things were aggressive. Max pressed his lips to hers as he backed her into his hotel room, his touches searing.

It was intoxicating.

"Fuck," he hissed and pressed his lips to her neck. Max left dark marks on her skin as he pushed her down into the bed, his hands pulling her shirt up.

she was more than happy to take it off, not quite used to this max. But she loved this Max.

The Max that had her over his lap, spanking her ass as he growled something she couldn't decipher. The Max that pushed his fingers through her folds, his thumb pressing against her clit.

He had her on her knees as he pushed into her, gripping her hips in a way that was bound to bruise. But it was gonna bruise so good.

Max fucked her, snapping his hips against hers. He fucked her in such an aggressive way, his pace bruising but so fucking good. "Don't fucking flirt with him," he growled as his pace sped up.

she clenched around him, crying out at Max's bruising pace. It was so easy to cum around his cock when he was fucking her like this, in a way she wasn't used to but she fucking loved it. Loved how rough he was being. But he'd never hurt her.

She came around him and Max slowed down. "Dont." He thrust into her. "Fucking." He thrust into her. "Flirt." He thrust into her. "With." He thrust into her. "Him." He came inside of her, breathing ragged as he leaned forward, against her back.

"Fuck, Max," she whispered as she pulled away from him, laying her body flat on the bed. "That was incredible."

Max let out a huff as he laid beside her. "You're not gonna flirt with Daniel again, are you?" He asked, staring at her.

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. "I wasn't flirting with him, dummy," she laughed and crawled closer to him.

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floralcyanide · 6 months ago

Text

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?”

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies.

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter.

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other.

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive.

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that!

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially.

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add.

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed.

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words.

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly.

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is.

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith.

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement.

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas.

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow.

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive.

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine.

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person.

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you.

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger.

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain.

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness.

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night.

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you.

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins.

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner.

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

#javier rivera #javier rivera x reader #javir ivera #javi rivera x reader #javi x reader #javier “javi” rivera #javier “javi” rivera x reader #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #twisters x reader #anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #floralcyanide writes

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chelseeebe · 2 years ago

Text

shameless.

you and steve can’t seem to keep away from each other, no matter how many people and relationships it seemed to fuck over in the process.

shoutout if u got to read this when i posted rather than drafted it, ur a real one x this is jus somethin little i wanted to churn out b4 these two absolute honkers are finished

no use of y/n! smut, just pure smut rlly. steve is slightly rough but its all good here baby

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ❤︎ ❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

‘you’re fucking connor?’ steve storms into the break room, practically shouting, garnering funny looks from your other unsuspecting colleagues.

you stand up, pulling him by the polyester shirt to a quiet corner, frowning at his audacity, ‘shut the fuck up,’ you hiss, eyeing the elderly ladies who were now watching your every move.

‘is it true?’ he leans in, boxing you in between his body and the navy blue lockers.

‘it’s none of your business, steve,’ still gripping onto his shirt, eyes widened as his arm extends, landing with a slam onto the metal.

‘so you ditched me for him? is that right?’

‘i ended it because you have a fucking girlfriend, i’m not doing it.. not this time,’ releasing your fist, glaring up at him.

it was no secret that you and steve were in some fucked up situationship. it’d been that way for years. and try as he might, he could never convince you to be his girlfriend.

and despite the many girlfriends of his that inevitably came and left after bearing witness to your strange relationship. the handful of girls where the timeline became slightly hazy and yours and steve’s thing may have overlapped.

‘like you give a shit.. hell, like i give a shit,’ he cocks his eyebrow, jaw tense as your back is pressed against the locker, chest coming to meet yours.

‘you should.. daisy’s a good girl, i think you should at least try to keep her.’

he goes to speak, mouth opening and closing swiftly after, ‘come over after work.. we can speak properly,’ dipping his head to meet your eyes properly, soft hair flopping down his forehead.

‘we don’t need to speak about it.. i’m not coming,’ crossing your arms over your chest, trying to stand strong on your decision to end it.

‘you will, i know you will,’ smirking at his own shitty double entendres.

‘nuh uh.. not this time.’

so is it really any surprise when you’re stood on his doorstep, ringing the doorbell and waiting like an absolute fool for him to open the door.

the door swings open and you’re pulled inside before you can utter a word, immediately pushed back against the grand wooden door, his hands roaming your waist with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

his lips colliding with yours in the hungriest way, kissing any and every part of your face that they could.

‘what.. what happened.. to talking,’ you ask, fingers intertwining in the back of his hair, yanking softly as his lips smash with yours, all tongues and teeth.

‘fuck talking,’ he growls, pulling you into the living room with such force, you’re sure you’ll have bruises where his fingers hold onto you.

you let him manhandle you however he pleases, spinning you around, large palms pressing against your back. he’s got you bent over the couch, pressed up against your back as his hand holds both of your wrists behind your back. you can feel his boner rubbing between your ass, lazily grinding into your flesh.

‘does connor fuck you like this?’ fisting your hair in his hand, snapping your head backwards, chest pressed against your back.

you lived to rile him up, enjoying it tenfold when he was pissed and taking it out on your helpless body.

‘better,’ you gasp as his hand tears your shirt from your chest, palming at the newly exposed flesh. obviously opting to go braless, you knew there was never going to be any real talking happening.

he scoffs into your ear, teeth grazing the skin as his hips move against your ass, already completely erect. his other hand leaving your chest, gliding down to the waistband of your jeans, tugging on the denim.

a shrill ringing interrupts him, feeling the vibration of his ringing phone against the back of your thigh.

‘is that your little girlfriend? better answer it, stevie,’ you breathe, gripping onto the leather couch for better leverage.

‘you’re not getting off that easy,’ he chuckles, continuing to slide his hand into your jeans, moving your underwear to the side with a quickness.

grinning into the back of your neck when he feels the damp cotton, ‘jesus christ.. you’re a little whore,�� teasing your throbbing clit with his forefinger, eliciting a soft whine from your throat.

the ringing stops. only to start again barely a second later. he grumbles, releasing his hand from your hair, your head flopping forward as he no longer had a hold of you.

‘fuck sake,’ pulling the phone from his jean pocket, ‘be quiet,’ he warns, spare arm still snaked around your waist, rubbing gentle circles around your clit.

he clears his throat before answering, ‘hey.. i’m pretty busy, i’ll call you later..’ going to hang up but you hear the shrieking from the end telling him to wait.

taking this as the perfect opportunity to further piss him off, grinding your hips against his fingers. making sure his stiff cock could feel every movement.

he stutters, almost dropping the phone on your back, ‘hmph.. no, i’m not home.. no no, don’t worry.. i dunno yet.’

you throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth slack as your eyes roll back. moving with his fingers that were now sliding into your soaked entrance.

he bites down onto his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his groan though it doesn’t quite work and his chest vibrates against your back.

‘what? no- no one, jesus fuck i have to go,’ throwing the phone onto the couch, hand immediately finding it’s way to your exposed neck, ‘shit.. i thought i said be quiet?’ pulling his hand out of your jeans, dragging them down your thighs.

‘i didn’t say anything,’ you smirk, reaching a hand out backwards to aimlessly grab at his belt, already being shoved back into the couch, over the armrest of his expensive sofa.

‘you didn’t have to,’ he snarls, slapping your hand away to unbuckle his own belt, breathing heavily as his dick springs out of his boxers, pulling them down just enough.

your cheek pressed to the sweaty leather, laid bare waiting for him, feeling his rough palm slap against your ass. relishing in the sting it left behind on the delicate skin.

whining a drawn out version of his name as he teases his leaking tip around your sopping cunt. he was teasing you, punishment for distracting him while he was on the one. you knew it wouldn’t last long.

‘you’re so.. mhmm,’ he grunts, finally thrusting into you, giving you no time to adjust to the sudden stretch, ‘fucking perfect,’ fingers coming to grip onto the fat of your hips, giving him something to hold onto as he drove his hips into you.

your head depleted of any quick remarks, focussing on the feel of his cock slamming against the one spot only he could seem to reach. soft whimpers rolling out of your mouth as your hands attempt to find something to grip onto, clawing at the sofa.

‘so fucking perfect.. who’s gonna fuck you like me?’ he snarls, reaching up to wrap your hair around his hand, forcing your head to snap backwards, ‘huh?’

the sound of his balls slapping against the supple skin of your thighs fill the room, the unforgiving squelch of your cunt pulling him back in. you can’t understand a word he’s saying, too drunk on his cock to decipher anything.

he gives your hair another harsh tug, ‘i asked you a question,’ pressing his chest to your back as his other hand winds around your waist, keeping you flush against him.

‘you- you steve,’ you mewl, feeling him begin to lose it, obviously nearing his own orgasm, the sound of your voice moaning his name not helping.

‘yeah? say it again,’ fingernails digging into your flesh as an attempt to hold off his orgasm, desperate to get you there first.

‘fuuck- it’s you,’ your own climax fast approaching as he hits the soft, spongy spot, feeling your walls clenching around him.

white, hot pleasure searing across your body as your orgasm crescendos, legs trembling as you struggle to stay upright. your entire weight relying on his arms.

‘i know.. i know,’ he babbles, moist forehead pressed against your shoulder as he comes, feeling his cock twitch inside, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum.

incoherent mumbles of your name and an assortment of curse words echo into your ear, pushing into you one last time. panting, desperate for air when he collapses on top of you, your intertwined bodies falling onto the sofa.

you’re quickly manoeuvred around, now lying on his chest as you come back down to earth. steve’s fingers coming to brush the damp hair from your forehead.

‘you good?’ he asks, watching as you rise up and down with his heaving chest, keeping his fingers weaved into your hair, pads of his fingers brushing against your forehead.

you nod, resting your head on his shoulder, trying to recover. satisfied to lay there for as long as it took.

‘stay?’ he propositions, hopeful though he knew the answer already.

‘not tonight,’ settling in to lay on him at least until the begging started and you’d have to leave before it got too much.

he props himself up on his elbow, watching as you get dressed with a glum look on his face, playing with the blanket as you shimmy into your jeans.

‘why won’t you stay?’ cocking his head to the side.

you shake your head, gathering your discarded top and pulling it over your head, ‘no.. i told you i can’t.’

‘why?’

‘i’m busy tonight,’ you shrug, searching for your shoes.

he sighs, ‘y’know, we wouldn’t have to do this every time if you just said yes.’

you stop, glaring at the incessant man, ‘steve, that’s not going to happen, besides, you have a girlfriend.’

he sits up properly, sliding to the other end of the sofa, ‘you know i’d leave her the second you asked,’ reaching out to grab onto your fingers.

you blink at him, ‘..no, and that’s final,’ pulling your hand away from his grasp and slipping into your shoes.

‘i don’t understand you,’ he pouts, ‘is it connor? is that why?’ standing up to blockade you into the living room, zipping up his jeans with a displeasure splashed across his face.

‘no,’ smiling up at him, though it’d probably piss him off, ‘i don’t want a relationship.. you know that,’ crossing your arms over your chest as he stood defiant in the doorway.

‘but, why? you could have this whenever you wanted, you know i’d treat you right,’ a shadow of a smirk on his face as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grab onto your waist.

‘i already do have this whenever i want.. it’s good like this,’ placing a hand on his chest to keep him away, his eyes hooding as his hand creeps from your waist to your ass.

‘don’t go,’ now almost pleading with you, his eyes a mixture of gloom and lust, obviously willing to do whatever it took to make you stay.

‘i have to,’ whispering as his face moves in, planting a soft kiss on the side of your mouth, a stark contrast to the way he had greeted you not long before.

‘you don’t,’ he murmurs against your lips, palm gripping onto your hip, keeping you in place.

‘i do,’ mumbling into his mouth, trying to not let him distract you with his transparent dirty tactics, using his moment of weakness to spin your bodies so that you were closer to the door.

‘five minutes.. and then you can go,’ you can feel his smirk as you’re manoeuvred to the wall, hand coming to caress your cheek, brushing the hair from your face tenderly.

he knew that if he could get you just the right amount of worked up, you’d have no option but to stay.

and fuck him for that because it worked. every damn time.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

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kalki-tarot · 1 year ago

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Channeled love letter from your soulmate 💌

Pick a pile <3

1 - 2 - 3

4 - 5 - 6

from left to right — Instinctively select the picture that feels right to you, whether based on your thoughts or the desires of your inner self. Choose the one that resonates with you, keeping in mind that this reading is meant to be general in nature and may not resonate with everyone.

Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.

⌗ Check masterlist for more ! 🧿✨️

Pile 1

Hi baby! 👋 how are you? Tell me I'm listening to you. I can listen to you for hours, i just love your voice ya know!

I want to make you my princess 👸💓 No, you are my QUEEN!!

l'd leave this world for you my darling! I'd buy you any item you want. I love your eyes, i get lost in them. 🥺 I wanna look into your eyes forever!

Ahh, i can't resist being near you. Don't ever leave my side. It hurts when we are apart, i hate it even when we are just away for a few hours :(

I miss you sm! Time moves so fast with you around me! I get lost in you that I'm not aware of time passing by. We are getting older day by day, look how far we've come in this journey of love!

Everything moves so fast, it scares me! Time changes but me and you never. We have the same love for eachother. Aren't you proud of us?

With you, I just smile. I'm not aware of my sufferings when I'm with you baby.

I wanna go on dates with you, just like we used to before. I hate it when we are apart even it's just for a moment. Love me forever, be my forever please. Love you baby 💓

Please leave feedback in comments! Sending Lots of love <3

Pile 2

Wait ! Did I tell you how beautiful you are !? Just like a ball of sunshine. I get so mushy just from admiring your cuteness. You make me blush.

In a world full of negativity, cheating partners, situationships, hook ups etc. Aren't we lucky to have eachother for eternity as each other's loving a loyal partners?

We should be grateful as not everyone receives true love in their lives amidst these fake people.

Like would be so meaningless without love right? When you are with me everything is good for me, even the bad things.

I want to go on a cruise with you. It's my dream.

You are my love, you are in my prayers. I'm so passionate for you. Don't let these obstacles get in our way, don't be shy with me. You can say that you love me.

I get nervous around you too. Or we can just look in each other's eyes?

Be my life partner. I want to spend the rest of my life with you please. Not just life, i want you for an eternity.

If I could ask god for one wish, I'd ask for you in every lifetime. Everything is okay when you are around.

I can tell you my pains and sorrows and I can listen to yours. I get strength from your smiling, happy face. With you, earth is like heaven for me.

Isn't it beautiful that we are two bodies one soul? Even if I die, I'll come back to you, I promise.

Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️

Pile 3

I'm in love with you. Time stops when I look at you. I can admire you for hours. I'm at peace with you.

You can call me a fool, but you are just like a fairy and I'm just a human, mesmerized by your enchanting beauty.

You give me peace, you voice, your soft hair, your eyes, everything about you makes me feel calm. You are a part of my soul.

I want to make you mine. I will spend all my nights in all the ups and downs of your life. I will be there in the bad times too, darling.

I'd write songs and poems about you. When you smile, it feels like heaven.

I really love you, trust me.

I really love you trust me.

I really love you, trust me (Idk they're just repeating this. They wanna make you trust in their purity of love)

Yes you can call me a fool whatever you want. But I'm madly in love with you.

Days and nights pass. I fear your absence. Life stops in your absence.

I'll do anything you want, I'll give you a bouquet of roses. Trust me, I love you.

You'll get addicted to me. (not in a bad way) You'll want me in your arms day and night. I know you want me. But you show that you don't, i know everything. I don't know what should I do, you too don't tell me. It's bad that you hide it from me. Don't do it, cuz i love you. Your nights would be sleepless without me. (Not in an nsfw way) Look closely into my heart, you'll find yourself.

Please leave feedback in comments ! Sending Lots of love ❤️

Pile 4

There is a limit to your emotional and physical capabilities, I know you are tired of telling everyone this and no one is listening to you, but be aware that I'm here for you, I'm listening to all of your needs. I know no one knows those things about your past, but don't let yourself fall.

Look at your passion for it! You are walking circles within yourself. I'm aware of everything but I can't do anything about it except to be there for you and to listen to you.

We are bound within our own worlds for now. Wait for me. If we lose our hopes now then how will me meet? I know life is teaching you so much. It's the same for me. But remember we are getting close to each other day by day.

Everyone left you at your worst, and your heart doesn't accept this. I know all of that. Please hold on a little longer I'm coming towards you.

Since the day you've stepped into my life, it's been sincerely great for me dear.

My destiny is written with your name. I don't know how to live without you, love? (They're a but emotional telling you this)

My heart hurts seeing you like this, everything will be okay. I learned how to live from you, but never without you. Can you please not cry? It hurts me.

And yes, every compliment I ever gave you was honest. Life feels like life with you. It's colorful with you. You are the sky to my earth. I look upto you.

Come here and hug me. This connection is for a thousand lifetimes. Don't hide your tears with me.

Our connection is a secret, i haven't told anyone about this. I remember you from our past life.

I miss you every second that passes. I feel alone without you. Do you too? Don't worry I'm on my way to you.

Lots of love, 💓

Yours Only ✨️💕🧿

Please leave feedback in comments !

Pile 5

My heart doesn't accept this. It's stubborn and doesn't listen to me. It's not willing to mend the broken strings.

Why can't we forgive our mistakes? I'm sacred everything will be lost.

I don't know, my heart doesn't believe in it. Why can't we be together? All the promises are broken now?

The relationship which grew so beautifully like a rose, why is it just thorns now? My heart doesn't recognize itself. I don't recognize myself.

We gambled our happiness. No one know about this. No one knows our pain.

Our silence keeps screaming. You might be happy without me, but I'll be not.

I don't pray now, I've lost hope.

Why should I be embarrassed about telling people that I'm nothing without you?

See, you're making me go crazy. But I still want you, there's no other place I wanna be except near you.

Time will heal my pain. Who knows I'll be there tomorrow or not. Please accept me. Your thoughts keep me awake at night.

Pile 6

The night of our union will be magical. It'll bring lots and lots of happiness and healing.

I can sense the naughtiness in your eyes.

I want to have a child with you. The house will be empty no more.

You are like a dream I never wanna wake up from.

This world feels wrong, you are the only right thing in my life.

You've become my everything. My laugh, my cries. Everything.

This world tells me that my love is unrequited, atleast i can admire you from afar.

You are the last reason I'm living. And the first reason of my happiness.

Please leave feedback in comments!

Thanks for reading. Please be kind in the comments, I'm just a beginner so don't take these readings seriously. Take what resonates. And ignore grammatical errors please, english is not my first language.

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sinsolstice · 2 months ago

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★ 彡 SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA [ 2 ]

series ✮ the second day of the week always seem to put you in a bad mood. but miguel has a way to make you forget about your day.

tags ✮ modern + roommates au. situationship with miguel and unspoken mutual pining. divider creds: cafekitsune.

content warning ✮ explicit content, sexual intercourse, dom/sub, handjobs, thigh riding, cowgirl, unprotected sex. 18+.

wc ✮ 2,756

Tuesday has never been your favourite day.

When you return home, you feel your body ache and a glooming weight hovering above your head. Something just irks you today and all you want to do is retreat to your room until the whole day is over. At least, there are only a few hours left until Tuesday ends. Another seven hours left, to be precise. Even the thought of it still dampens your mood and you wish that time would speed up so you can get over the Tuesday blues.

The moment you arrive home, you’re greeted with brief quietness, before hearing someone going through the cupboards in the kitchen. Although you acknowledge Miguel's home first, you don’t walk past to greet him. Instead, you go straight to the second floor and into your room. Shutting the door behind you, you strip off your work clothes and hop into the shower. The warm water calms your skin and loosens your muscles. Yet, you feel dissatisfied even when you come out clean, smelling fresh and changed into comfortable baggy loungewear.

You dive into the comfort of your bed, tangling yourself under the duvet that makes your muscles curl comfortably. Something vibrates under your pillow and when your hand moves under to reach for your phone — pulling it out to your sight — it lights up a received message from Miguel. He tells you that he’s planning to run some errands and asks if you would like anything.

Your reply is polite but a little unenthusiastic. It wasn’t long after texting Miguel back that you heard a knock on your door. The barrier opens and your roommate peaks his head in by the doorway. Your eyes immediately meet Miguel’s crimson eyes. “Long day?” He asks.

You sigh and nod, pressing your lips together. “Extremely. Today is just… I don’t know, not my day.”

“Lo siento, bonita (I’m sorry, beautiful),” Miguel says. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “I had a feeling you weren’t yourself when you got back.”

“S’okay.” You shrug. “Just a few more hours until Tuesday is over.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence between the two of you. You twiddle your thumbs, unsure of what to do when you feel the bed shifted under its weight when Miguel takes it forward to sit on the bed in front of you. His thumb and index fingers reach out for your chin and gently angle your face up to meet his gaze. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I’ll be okay,” you shoot him a soft smile. “Maybe I’ll sleep early tonight to let the time pass.”

Miguel goes quiet when you say this. He gazes away to his right — seemingly in thought – before his eyes meet yours again. “There could be something we can do to pass the time. But only if you want to.”

This has caught your attention. “What are you thinking of?”

“Today may have not been a nice day for you, but we could change that.” Miguel begins. “The continuation of our challenge from yesterday.”

Your chest tightens a little as you hitch a breath, recalling the deal made and yesterday’s events. It heats your cheeks and goosebumps run down your back when your mind replays the way your body aches in pleasure when he thrusts deep into you. A sudden jolt of pulse travels down to your cunt as you think about the way he rubbed your clit yesterday with fervent abandon from the challenge.

You’re now reminded that today is the second day of the week’s challenge.

“It might help you forget about what’s upsetting you today.” Miguel continues, his tone lowers and sounds a little husky. He pauses for a moment as he gently circles on your inner wrist in a mindless pattern. “I want you to take the reins this time to make you feel empowered. Have you done whatever you want to me.”

In that moment, your chest tightens even more with the way your heart races. This is the first time you’ve been offered something like this, and throughout your situationship with him, Miguel has always been the one to lead in the sexual activities. So his proposal has taken you by surprise and yet you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the new prospect specially made for you.

“Really?” Your voice holds an innocence to it. “You’ll let me do whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want, nena,” Miguel smirks. “I’m yours to use as your playground.”

You gaze away as you think, still feeling the rush of excitement and arousal. “There’s always something that I’ve been wanting to try.” You begin, pause for a dramatic effect, and then look at him with feign innocence and curiosity. “Thigh fucking?”

Miguel raises a brow at you and a wide grin appears on his face. “You plan on torturing me with those sweet, soft thighs of yours, bonita?”

You giggle softly, “Not torture you, per se. More like… want to know what it feels like.”

“Mm,” Miguel hums. His hand reaches out to brush away some unkempt strands of hair out of your view. “If that’s what you want to do, then let’s do it.”

Nodding, the two of you began to undress each other’s pants, the clothes all tossed aside in the corner of your bedroom. You quickly settled on the and laid your back on the headboard, with Miguel joining to be in front of you. He kneels on the bed and spreads your legs open, moving closer between them. He takes hold of his large cock in his hand and places his throbbing member on your bikini area, giving it playful taps that have you squirming a little and giggling.

You slowly bring your legs together, the inner of your thighs brushing against his member softly between the thigh gaps. Then with your legs clasped together, you raise your legs and then down slowly. Soon, the motion repeats as your inner thighs drag his cock up and down in strokes. You swear you could feel his member throb between your muscles.

“Oh, mierda, that’s it,” Miguel murmurs with his eyes closed. “Your thighs are so soft and warm.”

“You think so?” You ask as you proceed to move your thighs up and down, looking at him under his gaze innocently.

Miguel smirks and lets out a breathy chortle once you’re confident stroking him with your thighs. Bring your upper legs up and down like you’re doing a seated knee crunch exercise on his cock with your upper leg muscles. With every stroke, Miguel’s member quivers and he groans. His chest is rising up and down slowly, eyes closed as his lips parted slightly whenever he breathes heavily.

“Fuck, your thighs.” A low growl emits out of Miguel. His brows creased as he pants. “So soft and beautiful and mierda (fuck)—” He let out a breathy, almost strangled gasp as his eyes gazed down at his cock and your thighs stroked him. “Tan perfecta, hermosa.”

The praises coming out of his mouth feeds your confidence and it certainly shows it on the smile of your face. You continue to tease him and perhaps like Miguel said earlier — torture him a little. Seeing the way the foreskin of his cock would roll up and down to the movements of your thighs in between them — hiding between the muscles and revealing itself like it was a peek-a-boo game. The head of his cock is already glistened with precum. “Something else.” He rasps. “Please.”

“Oh? You’re telling me what to do, now?” You ask with a raised brow, your tone teasing. “Though you told me that you’re my playground to use.”

“You’re right,” Miguel rasps with a sheepish smirk. Still using his thighs to stroke his cock, you can see the way his brows furrowed together as Miguel breathes rhythmically in an attempt for some sort of control and restraint. “Are you going to keep playing with me like this?”

You glance up at him. The movement of your thighs going up and down slows down until it comes to a stop. His cock throbs, being buried in between the soft muscles of your upper legs. “You’re right, I should do something about it.” You declare.

Carefully, you open up your legs, seeing the way it glistened with arousal ─ a mixture of his and yours painting your skin. You already miss the way his member feels between your thighs but you have a different idea. Leaning yourself forward close to Miguel, your right hand reaches for his cock and soon, your hand replaces your thighs to stroke him. A gentle grip on his dick as you move up and down on him.

You hear Miguel groaning your name, sounding even more hoarse than before. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He says brusquely, though it sounds gentle. “Tú, pequeña zorra (you little vixen).”

“Whatever do you mean?” You giggle softly.

“Want to have your pussy around my cock.” Miguel murmurs. His head is tilted back with eyes closed, deeply groaning and his dick pulsates even more in your hand.

The growing smile on your face doesn’t falter as you take full control of Miguel’s pleasure, watching the way he’s beginning to lose composure. You feel more confident and empowered in this situation because you’ve always been a bit of a pillow princess and letting Miguel have his way with you. But this time, the role is reversed.

“How do you want to have my pussy?” You ask, still stroking his cock with your hand. “Should I ride you?”

“Yes, yes por favour (please),” Miguel says, his voice sounding breathy. He groans again and the muscles of his biceps tighten as his body shudders in pleasure. His member twitches in your palm. “Hermosa, nena, por favor (beautiful, baby, please).”

You chuckle softly, seeing how Miguel has succumbed to a whimpering mess. A different sight but a beautiful one. You’ve always known Miguel to be confident, intimidating, and somewhat snarky. But in the moment and right in front of you, he is neither of those. He is yours to toy with and as he said before—he’s your playground to be used for the night.

“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?” You lightly scold Miguel. And yet, your hand slowly comes to a stop and lets him go. Getting up onto your knees, you gently nudge Miguel to lean back a little. When he does so, you carefully crawl onto him, settling yourself on his lap. His hands instantly go to hold onto your waist. The two of you stare at each other, eyes gazing over each other’s expressions and facial features.

“You ready?” Your voice is soft when you ask, hand reaching down to hold his cock and aligning it upwards between your legs.

“Yes,” Miguel whispers. His eyes darken in lust, and the grip on your hips is strong as if he’s trying to imprint his fingers into your skin. Almost holding back your breath, you mentally prepare to embrace yourself, remembering to take it nice and slow.

Steady, you lower yourself down onto Miguel, the head of his cock breaches in slowly until the two of you are groaning and moaning. Your walls warmly welcome the intrusion, wrapping around his cock in a vice grip till you could feel the tip of its head brushing inside your womb. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You rest your forehead on Miguel’s when the shudder of pleasure overwhelms you. Breathing softly as you hold onto him, mind clouded in lust and sheepishness. When a thought inadvertently enters your mind, the notion is forgotten when you feel his hands guiding you close to him by the waist.

“You’re doing so well,” Miguel says softly, his lips almost brushing yours.

His words made your heart leap and you exhaled a soft sigh that you didn't realise was holding back. “I want you to get comfortable.”

“I already am.” The corner of Miguel’s mouth curves up in a grin. His hands cup your rear cheeks and he lifts you easily off the bed to switch positions. Miguel sits at the edge of the bed and his gaze focuses on you, his hands going onto your hips as you proudly sit on his lap.

You begin to roll your hips as you sit on his lap, with his cock settled buried inside you; its girth hits your vaginal walls, his pelvis rubbing your clit and you swear you could feel his cockhead hitting your cervix. The muscles of Miguel’s thighs flex a little underneath your weight and he heaves heavily when your cunt grips onto his dick whenever you roll yourself onto him. “That’s it,” he groans. “Grinding on my cock so well.”

With your hands placed behind his muscular thighs as you steady yourself in this whole new position, you angle your hips and begin to bounce on him. It starts gently at first for you to adjust to the feeling and idea of taking charge. But then, the pace picks up moments later as you begin to feel comfortable. The wanton swiftness of Miguel’s cock hitting your G-spot relentlessly. You’re unsure who’s controlling the movements — whether it's your rhythm or his hand on your hips guiding you to lift up and then down onto his length. But it doesn’t matter who did what because being on top of Miguel O’Hara feels like the sweetest and most well-deserved victory for yourself.

The bedroom is filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping with mixed arousal, your breathy gasp and his throaty groans. It doesn’t take long until you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, making you drive your hips up and down on Miguel faster. You hear him shudder a breath, his hands grab your buttcheeks. “Oh fuck, hermosa—”

A throaty groan from Miguel and a strangled cry from you fill in the bedroom. Your cunt tightens around his cock and it throbs just in time for Miguel to spill his cum inside of you. Your clit pulsates from the pleasure, the two of you gasping and groaning from the euphoric sensation of cumming at the same time.

“Díos,” Miguel murmurs breathlessly. His lips brush on the valley of your chest as he catches his breath. Your eyes are closed, regaining your breath as well. “That was… wow,” Miguel adds. He chuckles softly. “Didn’t know you have a wild side of you.”

“I…” Your voice trails. A sheepish smile curves up the corners of your lips. “Was that too much?”

Miguel laughs and then shakes his hand. His hands squeeze your hips. “If anything, it was the best.”

Your arms circle his neck as you press yourself chest to chest on him. The climax settles down, leaving the room quiet. Neither of you pull away despite how overly warm and a little sweaty the two of you are, and you prefer the way you’re both not separating from each other yet.

"Hey," Miguel's soft tone catches your attention. "I have been meaning to ask. Why is Tuesday your least favourite day? Is it a personal thing?"

His question surprises you because you didn’t think he or anyone in your life would notice that the second day of the week is your least favourite day. You stay silent, figuring out how to put your explanation in words. “In all my life, Tuesday seems to be the day where I’m out of luck and rough days seem to happen that would hinder my mood. A bad grade at school when I was younger. Or I found out that one of the co-workers I hate at work made a complaint about me for something insignificant. Even when… my mum passed away a few years ago, it was on a Tuesday too.”

Things fall peacefully quiet in your bedroom as the two of you sit together on the sheets. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Miguel says apologetically. The pad of his thumb brushes on your inner wrist and you don't pull your hand away. Instead, let his warmth comfort you.

“Well, I hope that I’ve made your Tuesday a little better for you,” Miguel adds softly. He still caresses where your pulse and arteries are pumping under your skin.

Your eyes gaze at him and a smile appears on your face. You couldn’t help but agree because he did make your day a little brighter than the other Tuesdays you experienced in the past.

keep track of more updates with #𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 (miguel o'hara).

all of my links.

#𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 (miguel o'hara).#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #the miguel effect #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel

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kissyghosty · 2 years ago

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Requesting on my knees a Jealous Ghost fic where he and reader have a situationship but he refuses to go pass the fwb stage. In swoops in Konig (in all his 6’10 glory) where he is just being all sweet and soft to reader - major difference from our gruff Ghost. The gentleness of Konig surprises reader and starts making her shy around him which ofc goes noticed by Ghost.

Ghost then goes feral and pulls reader back in - cos I just know this man is highkey possessive 😳🙏😫 you may decide if Konig is in to reader or not

me: haha this will be like 500 words

also me: [foolish, as this nearly hit 1.5k]

here is the ao3 link for this!

“You’re mine, you know that?” Ghost grows in your ear in the middle of the roughhousing. Even through the fog currently blurring your thoughts, you can hear the possessiveness in his gravelly voice. He’s plastered to your back, grinding down onto your ass in just a tease of what could--and likely would--happen.

Throughout the entire duration of your coupling, you do your best to show that you are his and only his. He grabs you roughly, moving you around like you weigh nothing at all, even for your stature. To him, you probably don’t, you think in the aftermath, the both of you struggling to even your breathing as you tuck into each other.

You’d be content to stay like that. Just the two of you sharing each others’ touch and warmth. You would even dare say you wanted it, just to anyone but the man himself.

“Just tonight?” You beg as he finally peels himself away from you. With how disconnected he feels so soon, it’s as if he hadn’t crawled to you in damn near desperation mere hours ago. “Please?”

Through the mask plastered to his face, you can still see his eyes darken. He doesn’t say anything audibly, but the notion isn’t left unnoticed. You’ve heard all the excuses from him before: ‘We can’t be caught together.’ ‘I don’t want to be a weakness to you.’ The countless times he’s mentioned something about ‘not deserving it’, even though he is here and he most certainly does deserve to be cared about and loved on.

Reluctantly, you turn your back to him on the bed. He never says anything after deterring your begging. You never press, either. Still, it hurts, a tangible and heavy weight in your chest that feels an awful lot like rejection.

He slips out the door without another word.

*-+-*

Ghost keeps his distance from you after your little trysts. Purposefully tasking himself with paperwork or training or going on missions for what feels like just the sake of being away from you.

That’s not true, your mind supplies. He’s just used to being busy. Give yourself some credit.

In the cafeteria, you sat in your usual spot, away but not far from the others, just on the outside of the group, enough that you felt social without actually interacting with anyone else. You pretend you’re engrossed with the pitiful meal in front of you, not noticing when someone approaches.

“Ah, pardon,” an accented voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You’re already saying the words before you think about it. “Not at all.” Realizing you just reflexively allowed a stranger near you,, you look up to take in who has decided to give you company and nearly gasp out loud. If you weren’t feeling shy and humble before, you certainly do now.

One of the KorTac recruits, if the patch for the company means anything. He towers over you, more so than Ghost does. The only detail you can see about his face is his eyes. Where Ghost’s eyes feel like they pierce into you when he looks, his eyes are soft and gentle. Judging by the way he’s holding himself (a respectable distance from you, still, veiled head tilted like a curious and inquisitive dog waiting to hear a keyword), his entire self is one gentle giant.

You gesture for him to sit. He does so, across the table from you, carefully settling down instead of haphazardly throwing himself onto the bench like most everyone else does. He hesitates to move any further, anxiously wringing his hands until you realize you’ve been staring. “Sorry, I…” you scramble for an excuse, but you have none.

This guy is simply absurdly attention grabbing.

“It is alright,” he sheepishly brings one hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I understand that my stature may be somewhat of a shock to some.” He sounds damn near apologetic, like he had a choice in whether he was to be 6’10 or not.

“I think most of us are just surprised to be put in our place by you.” A palm comes up to rub your eye, needing to move to get jitters out of your system without being obvious. “You’re taller than the lieutenant, even. That’s impressive.”

As if summoned, Ghost stalks into the room, grabbing a tray and slinking over to sit with his subordinates. When you look away, you can still feel his eyes glaring daggers into you. The realization hits you like a train and you have to bite back a laugh.

That son of a bitch is jealous of you talking to the new guy.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I, uh, just realized I never properly asked for your name, is all.”

“Of course,” he murmurs warmly. “My name--or, callsign, at least--is König.”

“Very fancy,” you stutter back. Good lord, König’s callsign is translated into ‘king’. It seems contradictory for someone so unwilling to grab attention. “It sounds nice, too.” Your eyes slide over to look at Ghost again. A smile splits your face when you can see the furrow in his brow as his glare deepens. Someone must ask what’s wrong, because he whips his head to seethe at them instead before standing up stiffly and walking away.

“Um,” König interrupts gently. “Is something wrong, friend?”

The way he says it must make your face color, because he ducks his head nervously, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you finally find your words. “L.T. is just taking interest in us talking. He must still be wary of you, somehow.”

“He seems very distant,” König ventures, speaking quietly as if Ghost would be able to hear over the commotion of the room. “Judgemental, even. I will admit, I am somewhat wary of him myself.”

You shrug. “It’s understandable with him. He doesn’t exactly make it easy to get to know him. He has his reasons, though.” When you look up from dazedly staring at the table, König’s eyes are wide and aimed behind you.

“Reason for what?” Ghost’s gruff voice comes from behind your back. You’re not sure if he’s trying to hide the angry tone to it, but if he is, it’s failing horribly. You turn around only to see Ghost glaring into König as if he wasn’t an ally but an enemy instead.

“A reason for you being so moody,” you scowl up at him, his eyes meeting yours. Oh, there’s absolutely something hidden in their depths: anger, contempt, and that same twinkle of jealousy you saw earlier. “You don’t exactly explain to others why you’re so goddamn hostile for no reason.”

“I have my fuckin’ reasons,” he growls. “And those reasons don’t need to be shown to people that don’t need to know them. Understood?”

König nods apprehensively, moving to gather his things and stand. “I should--uh, be going.” He nods his head to you and Ghost nervously. “It was very nice to meet you both.” Without another word, he strides away, not looking back, head hunched down into his shoulders.

You turn in your seat to give Ghost his own taste of a glare. “What’s your problem? He’s new; I didn’t want him to feel like an oddball by being rude to him.” You huff. “Though it seems you have no issue with it.”

Ghost stubbornly doesn’t respond. He never does when you call him out for things like this. Instead, when you turn away to continue eating, his gloved hand settles on your shoulder and grips, startling you. “He was getting too comfy with you,” he grunts petulantly.

“He’s new,” you retort. “He needed someone to be comfy with, asshat.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Ghost voice is right in your ear now, making you involuntarily shiver. “More comfy than I wanted him to be. Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

Even with the warmth settling in your chest, you’re not fazed. “Dunno. You don’t exactly act like I belong to anyone, let alone you.” A low jab, for sure, but you were still irritated by the exclusively friends-with-benefits situation Ghost seemed to think you two had.

Ghost hums lecherously. “You want a reminder? Be at my quarters at 1900. I’ll do a thorough job of reminding you that you belong to someone.” With that, he stands straight and pats your shoulder as if he hadn’t just promised to meet you alone in his room later that evening. “In the meantime,” he says nonchalantly, “be ready for--what is it you wanted?--an overnight stay.”

#ah christ i hate tagging #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #König #he makes an appearance and is v sweet. i do love him #mw2 #cod mw2 #requests

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igncrxntripley · 2 years ago

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hi love! i’m here to request again 🫶🏾

can i get a rhea ripley x reader where reader and rhea are friends with benefits and after they get done fucking-reader spills her guts about her hidden feelings and we get a happy ending 😁

friends with benefits

a/n: YESSSSSSS TY FOR THIS - did headcanons bc they're a little easier for me to push out at this point, i hope you like this!!!!

mentions: NSFW 18+, top!rhea, softdom!rhea, bottom!reader, sub!reader, fwb!rheaxreader, fem!reader, fingering, grinding, kissing, heavy makeouts, slight scratching and clawing, break of kayfabe w/ use of rhea's real name, edging, slight overstim

taglist: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites @obl1vionblackhart @emogoblin-666 @hereliespumpkinn @blxxdshxteyes @neptune-lover @bunnysmyname @i-have-issues-lol @ares-athena @thatonepansexual2000 @witcherfromwallachia

by no means was there anything romantic going on between you and demi; this little...'situationship', if you will, is only meant to make the both of you feel good and fill in the spaces where both of you were feeling incredibly empty.

with every new city, you two always finding your way back to one another. it usually begins with demi sending a sneaky text to you and her coming over to your hotel room.

this latest instance would be no different; demi on top of you in bed, both of you just in the bare minimum clothing as you exchanged slow but still heated kisses.

her hands are roaming all over your body, feeling every curve and relishing in having her girl - no, her friend - underneath her gasping and moaning for more.

your hands keep themselves busy as well; one in demi's hair, keeping it away from her face so you can see her beautifully structured facade, while the other is slowly dragging your nails up and down her back.

gasps, whimpers, and moans escape both of your lips as the two of you move against each other's body. demi allows one of her hands to slide between your legs to feel just how badly you need her, and it won't take long for her fingers to begin teasing the needy bundle of nerves that so desperately ached for her.

demi may have this tough outer layer, but the inside of her was so incredibly gentle and was always needing to make sure you're taken care of. this is no different, but the fact that you two weren't an official couple is something that makes it all ache that much worse for her.

every time you two do this, demi is focused on taking care of you. her fingers, her mouth, her thigh - it's all about you and making sure you have what you need. of course you reciprocate it and give demi what she needs as well, but she's so caring and soft that it almost shocks you every time she gets up to leave once you two finish your business.

she'll do this for as long as she pleases; teasing you with her fingers, bringing you so close to the edge but then not letting you finish because she wants to keep it going.

"no no, babygirl. not yet." she'll whisper breathlessly as you whimper and squirm against her, desperately trying to bring yourself closer and release that tension she's been building up within you. "i'm not quite done with you, princess."

eventually she'll resort to slipping her thigh between your legs, allowing you to grind and move against her to make you believe that even for a second you're in control. once again though, that shifts every time you get close because she'll pull her thigh away to remind you she's truly the ringleader.

"demi...fuck, don't be like that?" you'd beg, looking up at her with the same puppy dog eyes that always got you what you wanted. and she'll give in, because even though she's tough and likes to be in charge she can't just not give in when she looks at you like that.

when demi gives into you, it's the same rush of kissing and touching that got you two there in the first place. but this time, each of you bring a hand down to touch the other and allow yourselves to bring the other to her climax.

your legs locked around one another, your lips melting into demi's, and the absolute heat radiating off of the both of you are the only things you register as you both touch one another; the only thing to bring you out of it is the sound of your moans mixing with hers, and eventually the two of you relaxing together on the bed.

usually demi would get up by then; she'd shower, change her clothes and give you one more teasing kiss with her usual "until next time, baby." before leaving the room. but this time, she...stayed there? with you in her arms?

let's be real, you don't mind and you aren't going to tell her to leave. but before you can even ask, demi looks down at you and you';d brush that dark fringe from her face as her words send a shockwave through you.

"i can't do this anymore."

you'll sit up a bit and look at demi in shock, but she sees where your mind has gone and will immediately calm you down; "i can't come over every night and pretend like i'm okay with not admitting how i really feel...because i really, really fuckin' like you."

demi spilling her guts like this makes your own insides twist into knots. "you what?" you'll ask, your cheeks turning bright pink as she sighs in slight embarrassment.

"i like you, y/n! shit, i don't know how else to say it. i've liked you for awhile now, as more than...whatever 'this' is."

demi will look at you expecting the worst, honestly preparing to even get out of bed to leave and pretend none of this ever happened; but you surprise her this time, and hold her beautiful cheeks before planting a kiss on her lips. you look at her with a smirk, and in that moment everything has slowly begun falling into place.

"i like you too, you freak."

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe rhea ripley #wwe smut #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley headcanons #smut headcanons

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princessjojo-x · 1 year ago

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AquariusVenus ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

💝 he’ll watch you from afar before making his move, meanwhile you’re completely clueless of his interest. he exceeds at hiding his attraction from his love interests. he may avoid eye contact with you, turn his back on you, go silent around you, take hours to reply to you & so on. he’ll pretend you don’t exist bc he’s determined to appear aloof to the greatest extent.

💝 although he appears distant & unbothered, he needs just as much attention as his sister leo venus. he hates being ignored or forgotten, yet he will never tell you that, making him hard to read. he may express his feelings through late-night texts, sharing thoughts he might hesitate to say in person.

💝he’s notorious for being inconsistent in his displays of affection & attention. indicators of his interest are sporadic & confusing, ranging from acting like you doesn’t exist to wanting to spend time with you. due to his hot & cold nature, others are led to believe his feelings are unstable, but it isn’t abt feelings, it’s abt aquarians need to withdraw & be alone for some time. he’s often surprised why others view him as inconsistent when his love isn’t actually wavering, he just needs space to recharge himself mentally. although he is in & out, he never really forgets you, he’s a fixed sign after all. he’ll come back eventually, acting as if nothing happened, technically nothing happened for him. this is just his default nature & more codependent types may find it offensive.

💝 in true fixed sign fashion, he’s not quick to enter rxships & it takes a lot for him to fall in love. but once he’s locked in, there’s no going back. he’ll stay in a rxship even if it’s reached its expiry date & is no longer serving him.

💝 he’s just as serious as capricorn but just as talkative as gemini. he’s great at communicating his wants & needs. but he can be somewhat critical when maintaining his strict boundaries & standards.

💝 others often feel comfortable opening up & revealing secrets to him bc he’s non-judgmental, openminded & unemotional.

💝 he may be very open minded in regards to his s3xuality. aquarius is ruled by uranus, which governs freedom & liberation. aquarius is abt being different & breaking boundaries.

💝 aquarius is the ruler of the eleventh house, which is the house of friendship. he enjoys friendship based foundations & treats his lover like his best friend. he loves someone who can make him laugh & make him feel comfortable.

Turn On’s & Off’s:

💝 since aquarius is ruled by saturn, he’ll be more interested in you, if there's an element of challenge or difficulty, in making the rxship work (although he may not be aware/willing to admit this). he wants what he cant have & he desires romance that is unattainable to him. therefore, for the sake of the rxship & your well-being, you have to be subtle & strategic with him. ensure to act less interested than he is, don’t be overly expressive of your love & most importantly be as inaccessible as possible. it’s best to let him set the pace & do most of the pursuing. although dating him feels like a permanent situationship, you’re better off not having the "what are we?" convo with him, otherwise you’re risking him loosing interest. if he realises you don’t want to take it slow & let him be free, then expect him to completely ghost you! he hates when a woman shows him too much interest & makes it too obvious she likes him; he feels like that restricts his freedom & the last thing he wants is to be trapped. he perceives her acting too obsessed & mushy (especially early on) as cringey & suffocating. he’s completely turned off by neediness & insecurity so never attempt to tie him down! the tighter you holds him, the more he runs away.

💝 he dislikes bossy & demanding partners who put too much rules on him. if you even slightly try to control him, not only will be ghost you, he will completely rebel by doing exactly what you didn’t want him to do.

💝 emotional scenes & emotional outbursts from others scare him off. when emotions get too intense he tends to find the quickest escape plan. this explains why he’s perceived as cold-hearted.

💝 he values an unbothered & nonchalant woman, whom has a collected temperament & the ability to detach. she doesn’t loose her cool bc she’s aloof & distant asf. she knows how to regulate her emotions & thoughts, whilst viewing things from a logical perspective (all air venus’s like to be impressed intellectually).

💝 he’s often not interested in conventional rxships. he’s attracted to abnormal & puzzling rxships, that don’t conform to societal normals. for instance, quick flings or big age gaps, anything that’s weird & interesting.

💝 he desires a outcasted woman who doesn’t follow the crow & is outside of the box.

💝 to impress him, wear something that isn’t basic or trendy. dress authentic & unique bc he thinks someone expressing themselves is the sexiest thing (chelsea lee art vibes). he likes glasses, space buns, holographic boots, chipped nail polish. he doesn’t care abt matching colours or patterns.

💝 ensure to respect & admire his weirdness, call him unique & original, tell him he’s nothing like you’ve ever seen or will see again.

#astro notes #astrology #venus signs #aquarius venus

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1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess · 1 year ago

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an: was listening to ella mai's shot clock and here we are. part 2 probably when i remember to actually create rather than consume when i'm on here

you'd just about had it with johnny...

you'd had it with him thinking coming over to your place and occasionally having toe curling sex was a date, you'd had it with how he'd met all of your friends and you were yet to meet his, you'd had it with how loosely he threw around pet names like "mine and "my girl", whispering sweet nothings to you - completely oblivious to the effect things as simply complex as "only for me..." had on you - you'd had it with how he'd cockblock you and claim you as his every time other guys tried to hit on you at parties, how he'd make no efforts to tell people off when they made passes at him, but heaven forbid another man did so much as look at you and all hell would break loose.

the worst part of it wasn't that you'd had to turn down men that were just as hot as him. oh no, not at all. in-fact, you were quite pleased with yourself for having bagged the fine specimen. a devious smile that was a code you could never quite crack, you'd come to learn meant a multitude of things, his gaze was one that could do so much as to leave you a stuttering mess upon making eye contact, his height foreshadowed the sizeable member that lie beyond the material of his beloved pair of jeans.

there was more to him than the physical, he had manners, something of his you admired. how he respected both you and himself enough to freshen up before coming over, always waiting for you to give him the 'ok' to come in when you eagerly opened your apartment door to his smiley, clean and comfy looking self, nice enough to use a coaster when he poured himself something to drink - something he remembered you'd given him a stern talking to for not doing the first time he came over - using the ottoman rather than putting his legs up on the sofa or coffee table, offering to wash the dishes you were yet to muster up the energy to clean, how cocky and full of himself he was...how full of him you were, never missing the opportunity to call you his tiny baby, his size having you mutter incoherent babbles while his hips moved sporadically into you, having no qualms about wiping you down and opening a bath for you right after, how good he always smelt after coming out of the shower, the notable contrast compared to the room that both smelled and looked like a sex marathon had transpired.

But no, the worst part wasn't how perfect he was, the worst part was that he wasn't yours...

it sucked how much your heart melted when he'd do so little as to flash you a warm smile, it sucked how you loved how possessive he got of you, it sucked how he treated you like you were his special girl, it sucked how much you loved him...

it tore you apart knowing you had come this far with him and yet whenever you were asked on the status of your relationship, you'd be the only one that burned of embarrassment when you received looks of sympathy when you revealed he was merely your situationship. you knew you didn't have the heart to confront johnny about how he had practically dribbled and made a mockery out of your feelings. how each and every time you'd convinced yourself you were ready to cut him off, he'd snake his way up into the gap of your thighs, lapping away at the front of bravery you'd put up as if it were ice cream and all you could do was lay there to melt.

if you hadn't yet mentioned it in the last six months, what would trigger the sudden change?

maybe it was the fact that the soft patters of water had prematurely woken you up from sleep. reaching for his phone for the time, only for there to be a pang you felt in your heart as you read the crude notification from one of the girls you'd seen at a party you'd attended mere hours early, while your boy-...friend was in the shower. not surprised by what you had assumed were his antics, you weren't angry, or even hurt, just sheerly and utterly drained.

for the duration of the party and every party prior to that, you hadn't over-stepped and told anybody to back off from making any advances on him. it wasn't because you had faith in him, you couldn't stomach yet another look of sympathy, one of those looks that made it very evident that you weren't his, you were just his favourite.

................

an: man i'm so incredibly tired but i didn't want you guys to forget me lmao.... here's a little something of proof i'm not dead and whatnot...

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fluffypotatey · 3 months ago

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About macky having to "move on" I also joked about that like girl get up please, but when I think about it I realize that not even I could get over it, even if Wukong hurt Macaque, Macaque also hurt Wukong, we all know that so to the point. What catches my attention is that when you think about the story they had in their youth it makes sense, wukong himself shouted to macaque that everything he did was for them, and more than once he repeated that they would be able to be together forever like "as they always wanted" at peace as a fact, adding that to the hundreds of thousands of years they spent together.

And with their fight It wasn't even a closure to their relationship at that moment, it was with Macaque's death, there were so many things left to say and so much to process (the death and the anger, the fights etc) , only for Macaque to return with the only thing in mind being that he needs to get revenge on Wukong (for obvious reasons) so he comes back and tries to get revenge,he fails. Even in the moments of the show where Macaque is not actively trying to get revenge on Wukong, he still calls him, makes fun of him, hits him where he knows it hurts. And that goes hand in hand with 2 things

One is Macaque's need to get Wukong's attention, Macaque is seen trying to get Wukong to treat him seriously without holding back in fights, seeing that Wukong focuses more on protecting the kid is almost as if it offends him, they are not friends anymore but Wukong doesn't even consider him as an adversary? He can't let that go, Wukong owes him this! He caused his death and now he doesn't even face it when he didn't hold back before?At least give this some real closure! (macky pov)

Two is Wukong does not want to see Macaque, he does not want him around, and since Macaque knows how to get under his skin, Wukong attacks with even harsher answers so that he understands, "You are nothing to me and I don't want you to mess with me, go away" Wukong obviously must have reasons for acting like this, whether it be not being able to deal with Macaque's death or something that Macaque did to him (or Wukong did) to push him away ...and rightly so! macaque is one of the bad ones! he abandoned wukong, attacked mk and the others, allied himself with lbd and won't leave him alone! (Wu pov)

Idk those were my thoughts about them in the first seasons, I feel like at the beginning Macaque was a ghost from the past who tormented Wukong whenever he could. And macaque not leaving wukong alone for this same reason, if he can't kill him then let him be a walking reminder of his past (he's petty like that yk let's say that ignoring that may bothers him to be ignored ). For the most recent seasons the change is felt and is caused by how Macaque's perspective on Wukong changed. As for Wukong, I think it's safe to say that with so many ghosts from his past returning and Macaque HELPING and not showing signs of being a recent threat (and the fact that they used to live together so mac still has rights to the house unfortunately) he couldn't make many protests with macaque staying on the mountain, Mostly the change is caused by Macaque's attitude and his reflection regarding Wukong, besides that yes, I feel that Macaque really had to process everything again because bro wdym my ex situationship of thousands of years just looked at me for motivation in his worst moment and he gave me a peach popsicle? holyshit-

SO to the point I think there was a reason for macaque to being around wukong (piss him off basically) but with this new information about what type of person and intentions Wukong has and how he has changed, those reasons also changed. And macaque and wukong will say all they want but "I did it for us" meant something pretty big if it meant "I did it for us, I fought against the heavens and looked for ways to make myself more immortal to protect you and our home so no one else It would bother us never again and we would live in peace forever." Yeah… I don't think it will be easy to move on (for none of them, Macademia lives with it and doesn't cope very well, Wukong avoids it like the plague and doesn't cope very well, Macaron through teasing puts it in wukong's face so that he can afrom it/him, Wukong doesn't/can't do it)

Season 5 side note : It's not until this season that we see them both show that they still care (without any pretext or excuse behind)

It's always the ying yang situation with them....although that cannot excuse the fact that macaque continues to be a simp 😞/J

LAST SIDE NOTE : We don't know how much time passed from when macaque died to when he was revived, so the difference in time they had to process can also affect their attitudes. (English isn't my first language I'm so sorry)

anon this is the perfect analysis 😍 no notes so well done chef’s kiss

#asks #lmk #lmk analysis #lmk meta #You are so spot on about their inability to move on #i wanna eat this #liukong

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ryverbind · 7 months ago

Text

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Composer [28]

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky.

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing.

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical.

That leaves me with Larry.

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did.

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me.

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs.

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point.

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it.

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together.

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly.

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game.

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by In the blink of an eye, Dripping through the gaps In my hand which saps This eternal time lapse Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets; My mistakes chosen by the oracle. A fool making bets With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine.

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice-- My muse of persuasion. Drink from my crimson chalice, Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends? This anguish and me. Gaze through the rose-tinted lens, Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi?

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest.

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you."

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.

I hate when he says 'fuck' because it's always so unironically seductive. I know he's just playing around, but that glint in his eyes and the smirk-like tilt of his lips tries to tell me otherwise.

I snatch the controller from him and unpause the game, grumbling, "I already said I'm not interested in him."

I walk through all the steps I'd already done, having to restart the entire village scene due to my repeated fuck up from last round.

Sal doesn't reply to me, he watches every move I make on the screen and I focus as best as I can. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself, but I get wrapped up in the same exact spot again, fighting off more of the infected than I can handle.

Leon's body drops to the ground again and I stomp down the overwhelming urge to walk through the TV screen and beat Leon's dead body myself.

"I see what the problem is," Sal pipes up beside me, his tone screaming 'Physics Graduate' with how... scientific he sounds. I bet he conjured up a fucking hypothesis for this. "Come here," he says, linking a finger through my belt loop and tugging me toward him.

I nearly choke on air when my shoulder squishes against his and he leans closer, grabbing my arm closest to him and pulling it so that I'm holding the controller between us.

He moves his hands so that they wrap around mine and over the controller. He can move my thumbs any way he wants with this position-- but now I'm suffering the consequences. His hands are rough and warm on me, his fingers callused and brushing over mine with a perfect plan set in place. I can hardly breathe because, technically, Sal's holding my hands right now. And my body is pressed to his. If he listens a little too hard, he'll hear my heart slamming in my chest.

My body is completely rigid against his. Sex doesn't even involve closeness like this. My entire brain has been completely detached and rewired in mere seconds. Everything I thought has been reversed and I could... totally bed him right here, maybe?

"Are you going to restart or do I have to do that for you too?" Sal rasps humorously. His voice is so near, so clear. I want to look over at him so bad, see the dimple on his cheek because I can hear his smile, but I keep a level head. My eyes stay trained on the TV as I press start.

After all, when a cool, slow-mo explosion happens in the movies, the protagonist never looks back to watch.

I am the protagonist. I am the fucking protagonist. Iamthefuckingprotagonist.

"Okay, so this is where you're going wrong," Sal says in my ear, his tone suggesting he's much more focused now. His thumbs press into mine, moving Leon around the village much more easily than I could. Doesn't mean he's better than me, he just isn't running on fumes like I am. Sal fumes. I'm suffocating in him, it's all his fault. I am a good player, I swear I am.

I let him direct me, slowly beginning to relax in this soooo not-embrace. His arm, pressed against mine, acts as leverage for me to rest. He seems to lean against me more at some point too, the both of us more worried about getting Leon through the village than about how we slowly warm up to each other and this proximity.

"I don't know if we can get it with me guiding you like this," Sal says a tad urgently when the chase scene starts up, his thumbs working quickly with mine. At some point, I was able to start predicting what moves he'd make, so we seem to be more in sync now. "But we'll try. We have to get through the first wave, then we're going to shoot that damn church bell."

I furrow my brows. "Like the first game?" I gasp, "We can still do it here?"

Sal snorts, manipulating my fingers to shoot someone heading our way. "Of course we can. Watch and learn."

I do watch, and hell, I learn too. It takes maybe five minutes for Sal to get me through the part I'd been stuck on since I got here. The moment he gets the shot on the bell, it rings through the city and evokes deep satisfaction within me-- especially when all the citizens start piling at the church.

I smile at the screen, Sal's hands still wrapped around mine as the famed cut scene starts up.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?"

This time I look at Sal because we said that line in unison. We said it together. At the same time. He looks back at me with wide eyes and an astonished grin, like he's barely holding back crazed excitement.

Something catches Sal's eye as we watch each other for a short moment, reveling in our shared interest and achievement. He looks up and past me, smile softening as he lets go of my hands.

The controller is suddenly so heavy without him holding it up for me. It slowly drops to my lap as he stands, walking back over to his respective couch.

I swallow, biting down my yearning for his missing presence. He was warm, he was stable. And that admission only reinforces that fact that I really need to put some much needed distance between us before things get way too real.

I look down at my lap for a moment, reminding myself that everything's going it work itself out. It'll be okay.

Things go back to the way they were before we started conversing today. Sal plays his guitar and tweaks things on his laptop, I play Resident Evil. Only difference now is that we're both progressing through our tasks.

And you know what, it's really nice. I thought this would be a mistake, I thought this would make things so much worse-- well, things are worse, but not in the way I assumed it would be.

But I'm actually having fun. The best part is neither of us need to talk to enjoy ourselves right now. A dynamic like this one is rare.

"You need to go."

The words are abrupt, make me look up. Sal is placing his phone down beside him and pulling his guitar strap over his head.

Is this some kind of prank? Is he just trying to get our old bickering going? I was just thinking about how nice things were and he cut it off like he read my mind. He had this icy monotone to his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

With a wary smile, I try to play along. "You're stuck with me, buddy. You made the mistake of inviting me in."

"I'm serious, y/n. I need you to leave." He nearly cuts me off, the words rushing out in what almost sounds like a panic.

I look at him closer, leaning my head down a bit to peek past his curtain of hair. His face is so stone-like, one would think he had faced off with Medusa. My eyebrows pinch together as I finally click into the veiled tenseness around us, my realization making everything that much thicker.

"Are-- are you okay?" I ask softly, a trickle of apprehension going down my spine. I don't know how to approach this. Clearly, something's wrong and he's trying to play it off. What do I do here? Things were going fine.

"Get out." The words are like a slap to the face, so aggressive and loud that I flinch, the controller tumbling off my lap and onto the floor.

My racing heart only increases its speed as I freeze up and just stare at him. I'm frightened, something I definitely don't want him to see but I can't help it, especially when he looks up at me with a glare so menacing-- the same glare that was always hidden by his prosthetic months ago. Until now.

I force myself to breathe and think.

Okay, he wants me gone. I can do that. All I have to do is walk out the door and I'll be out of his hair. Hell, he might even apologize about this later. My brain nags at me though, says that behind the anger in his expression is fear and sadness. Says that he doesn't need to be alone right now-- he needs someone.

This switch in him was so random, so fast. It feels wrong to think that I was the cause or that he's suddenly freaking out because I'm here. There's something deeper; the problem now is whether he'll let me find out what's going on or not. Should I even try?

Utterly split on what to do, I slowly stand to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. His excruciating glower softens a little, showing off a glimmer of relief that further proves my thoughts.

I fight past the fear he suddenly evoked, overwhelmed by how pained he must be to have a sudden reaction like this. He helped me when I had a hard time, so shouldn't I do the same for him?

As if to confirm my thoughts, Gizmo comes veering into the room. He talks and talks, skittering over to Sal and climbing up his chest. That's when Sal finally looks away from me so he can run his tattooed hand over the cat's orange fur.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. There is something wrong. Gizmo's presence says it all-- he did the same thing for me when I was anxious.

"Sal..." I say gently, hovering in my stance. I hold my hands to my chest, stuck on what decision to make. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between his wishes and mine. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," he bites out. "What I need is for you to get the fuck out." He gently moves Gizmo and stands up. I gulp, watching as that threatening aura of his grows closer and closer with each step he takes. I match his pace, taking steps backward. He herds me to the front door of his apartment, stopping when my back hits the doorknob.

I gasp at the feeling of metal digging into my lower back, using all my might not to back down and cower as Sal towers of me; every inch of his face curled with malice and rage and anguish. His dark brows are furrowed to hold up that glare of his, his light eyes darkened by the negativity roiling around in him. His marred lips set in a frown that just doesn't suit him at all. It's all so unlike him.

This isn't who I've come to know. No matter how scary he is, I just can't, in good conscience, leave him like this.

I take a shaky breath and stay stock still. Stand a bit taller to match his energy. I say a silent prayer that I don't end up on the evening news before I jump into the river crawling with snakes and alligators.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this," I declare, making sure my voice is confident to show that I won't back down despite how unconfident I am.

He looks away, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as if to bite down his instinctual reaction before he addresses me again.

He's trying. He's trying so hard not to scare me off for good-- that's why he wants me to leave now. I see it-- I see through him.

The gears work and click together in my mind. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to suffer with no one to hold him up when he's low. He's just so focused on boxing up his secrets, keeping them hidden from everyone that he won't rely on his only option. I really can't leave him now, can I?

"You can talk about it if you want, or you don't have to. But you don't have to be alone, whatever it is," I try to console him gently, moving to the side so he can see me in his peripheral. But my movement just makes him squeeze his eyes shut. My heart stutters upon realizing I'm not getting through to him, he isn't hearing me.

"Don't say that shit like you care!" he nearly explodes, voice rattling in my ears. "You don't understand anything. You don't know a thing about me."

He's looking at me again, desperation swimming in his ocean gaze, hiding away from the rage taking over his expression. His eyes rove over my face, sizing me up, waiting for the moment I bite back or walk away.

"I know I don't know anything," I tell him softly, making sure that my expression is open and, fuck, caring. Because I do care. "That's why I'm asking you to help me help you. However way is better."

"I don't want your fucking help," he hisses, eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking pity. I want you gone."

I open my mouth to passively fight him on that decision, but he interrupts me before I can even get a word out. "You can't spew this bullshit at me. Like you've lived a day in my life and you know what's it's like to be me. You don't, and you never will if it's up to me." With each word, pity, guilt, and anger builds within me. He's suffering and he won't let himself feel even an ounce of reprieve. Instead, he's trying to push everyone away. He's the type of asshole who probably thinks he deserves to be alone. "I don't want you here, nor do I need you here. Go coddle someone who needs it and get off my fucking case."

I clap back at him the moment he finishes. "Well, maybe you do need help! Maybe you do need my fucking pity! Have you thought about that?" I snap, gesturing to him with a hand. Why can't he just accept this? Get help? Let someone take it so he doesn't have to bear it all? "I don't need to be you to get it, Sal. I don't even need to be me to get it because I see it. You think you can hide it all, carry it all, but you clearly fucking cannot." I scrunch up my face to accentuate my words, trying to get it across to him through the parts of my face on display, the thing that supposedly captures his fascination so much. "It's seeping off of you like oil; doesn't even soak into you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you wear your feelings. I don't know what the hell's going on, but it doesn't take a genius with an IQ higher than yours to see that you're in pain."

Sal doesn't let up that harsh scowl, but I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. And then he blinks. Then he's turning his back to me, walking away from me and toward the kitchen while running a hand down his face.

My heart physically feels as if it's cracking in two, but I grip onto the bit of clarity I have left after literally yelling in his face. I take a hesitant step toward him when his head tilts down, his hair falling around him.

I wet my lips, ponder what to say now. How to approach this with my fingers quaking as each quiet second passes.

"Let's..." I whisper, heaving a troubled sigh. "You don't have to tell me, but maybe talking about it will relieve you, even if just a little." I chew on the inside of my cheek, tiptoeing around the topic, making sure I'm gentle with him now that he's backed down. "And if you really don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. We can watch a movie, play a game. Whatever you want."

The tides are shifting. With each offer that leaves my mouth, something about us changes. With how much I live to loathe change, I find that I don't fear it the way I did before. Not if the change is with Sal. Not right now when this man is nearly falling apart in front of me and pretending that he isn't.

"I need--" his voice cracks and my heart does the same. He's holding himself together with wet glue right now. What the fuck is going on? "I need to talk to Ash," he tries again, his voice a little more stable this time, though still soft and reserved. "But I can't. She's busy."

I bite down on my bottom lip. I know he doesn't want to talk to me. He said it himself; he would never tell me his secrets. But I don't think either of us have much of a choice.

"I'm not Ash," I say delicately, taking one more step toward him. There's still so much distance between us, I don't know how to get to him. "But whatever you say will never leave this room. Once it's out, I'll forget it ever happened if that's what you want."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's heavily contemplating, weighing his options.

Still silent, he jumps into action, moving to a cabinet in the kitchen. He opens it, pulls out a can of peaches. I watch his every movement as he opens the can then grabs a fork from a drawer.

I don't push him to speak, I let him figure out what he wants to do. He doesn't quite face me, but he turns so that his back leans against the counter, all while he bites into a colorful peach slice that's hanging from his fork.

He chews while staring unblinkingly at the emptiness in front of him.

"She messaged me."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion for a moment, but I think about what he's said before I ask him to be more specific.

She. She. I only know of two women regarding Sal-- one being Ash, and the other...

I hold my breath as I realize. It's the woman who hurt him. I shift my weight, expression slackening as I try to find a solution for him. My mind starts swimming with ways to drag him from the depths of his agony.

Ash told me that if I ever had strange messages and suspected it to be that woman, that I should let her know. And if this woman is harassing Sal, we could take it to police and maybe, hopefully, they could do something about it.

"And I don't know what to do," he continues helplessly, his sweet voice melodic with despair as he looks down at his can of peaches.

I watch him, collecting myself to approach him as rationally as possible. Then, I close the fated distance between us and walk over to him. I stand before him, about a foot of space between us. He doesn't look up.

"Here's what we can do," I start tenderly, trying to be as soft as possible while being a stable foothold he can use to climb out of this mess. "You don't have to look at it again," I continue, my gaze never leaving him even though he's almost completely hidden from me. "If you trust me with it, I'll take your phone, log in, screenshot the message. Then, I'll block her-- no response because she does not deserve it. I'll send the screenshot to myself then send it to Ash from there. It'll be out of your hands at that point. Me and Ash will handle the rest." Me and Ash because I want to sink my fangs into this bitch too.

Sal sets the can on the counter beside him, rubs a hand across his forehead. His fringe is wild, his hair sticking up in different directions until he runs a hand through his hair, his black nails clashing against a sea of cerulean blue. "Okay," he says, the word so quiet and raspy that I nearly miss it.

I wait just a moment, eyes glued to him. "Okay," I repeat. "I'm going grab your phone."

I backtrack to the living room, picking his phone up from the couch where he'd left it. I flip it so that the screen is facing me and see an Instagram notification. I don't read it just yet, but I slide up on the lock so that he can type in his password.

When I'm back in the kitchen, I stand in front of Sal and hand him the phone. Fork hanging from his mouth, he quickly types in his password then hands the device back to me.

It's open to the message. I know I'm doing this for him, but I'm afraid to look too much in fear of seeing something he doesn't want me to see. The last thing I want to do is betray his trust when he's finally given it to me.

"Do you want me to read it or just get the job done?" I ask him.

"Just read it. It's inevitable either way," he mutters dejectedly. That tone makes me frown worriedly. I'm already on the precipice of falling into complete heartbreak. His reaction certainly doesn't help. Still, I take the screenshot before glancing over the text:

@zoxbby112: 2 fucking years? sexual assault? you've got to be fucking joking you pathetic piece of shit. i TOLD you no one was going to believe your dumb ass and you still went and did it anyway. you're literally a dude, if you didn't want it you should've pushed me off or smth. everyone says no in the heat of the moment asshole. you liked it, you just need to play the victim since no one else is ever going to want you and that ugly fucking face. you're lucky i even still fucked you after getting that piece of plastic off you. fucked up my entire life. making yours a living hell is the only revenge i'm willing to get.

I have to grip onto the counter to stop myself from crumbling to my knees upon realizing just how this woman hurt him. It was sexual assault. She assaulted him.

"Oh, Sal..." The words slip past my lips, unbidden and broken as I take a shaky breath.

I blink past the sudden tears in my eyes and shake my head as I block her account then delete the message, navigating my way through his home screen and to discord. I send the message to myself then grab my own phone, making sure to save the screenshot. I go back to his, deleting the photo from our messages and his camera roll so he never has to see it again.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. So much of me wants to be angry, but all I'm feeling is throbbing pain and overwhelming guilt. I feel like my organs are being harvested from my body, like my skin is slowly being peeled away from my bones. All because I have no idea what to do for him, I don't know how to make it better. I don't know how to fix it for him, and I don't think I can.

"I'm..." I start to say, my voice hoarse.

"Please don't tell me you're sorry," he says quietly, stabbing his fork into another peach.

I tilt my head, biting my tongue as I place his phone down beside him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't want to hear sorry's anymore either. God, more than anything I just wish I could go back in time and save him from that.

"You know," I say instead, so much emotion ravaging me whole that I don't know how to stay standing on my own. The only reason I'm still up is for him. "I don't know much about physics, but I did like biology. And something my teacher taught me is that skin renewal takes seven years. So in seven years, you'll have brand new skin, and, um, it won't be the same skin you had when..." I trail off, going completely blank while trying to give him something to look forward to. Everything is so pathetic that even my brain can't cooperate.

Sal's head snaps up to look at me like he actually understood what I was yapping about. His pretty blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he still looks at me, face completely expressionless.

I match his gaze, waiting for something. Anything. But then he cracks a pitiful smile, snorts softly-- shows me as much humor as he can muster up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

I feel each of my damaged cells rebuilding themselves again at his shift in character. My heart beat becomes a little stronger, my breath more even and not so shallow with torturous anticipation.

"My skin will be untouched in seven years," he laughs, albeit humorlessly, but it's something.

"Yea, that's what I was getting at," I confirm, rubbing my arms and looking down at my feet.

Still standing beside him, I glance up just as he bites off half the peach slice on his fork. He gazes back at me, his eyes bluer than any sky I've seen, expression softer than any lingering touch of his.

I feel heat gather along my cheeks when he tilts the fork toward me slowly, offering me the other half of the peach. He looks like a cornered bunny, giving the fox hovering around him a peace offering. It's an apology and a thank you, reinforcing the trust that I handled with as much care as possible.

This fruit means something to him. I haven't an inkling of understanding on the offer, but if it matters to him then it matters to me.

I gently pluck the fork from his fingers, bite off the other half of the peach then hand the fork back.

Turning, I lean my back against the counter and stand beside him, both of us looking into the empty living room in front of us. We don't talk, we don't share a word. But we do pass that fork back and forth. He takes a bite of a peach, I finish it off. It goes like that until the can is empty, and then we both just kind of... stand there.

He pushes off the counter with a soft grunt, dumps the remaining syrup into the sink, washes it down the drain, then he walks over to me. He just stands there and looks down at me with the gentlest expression I've ever seen on him.

I stare back at him, dumbfounded as my mind races for explanations. So much is different now, I didn't think it could possibly change any more but I'm slowly learning that I keep severely underestimating Sal Fisher. Neither of us can make up excuses for this.

I quickly fit the puzzle pieces together though and realize he's right in front of me because I'm blocking the trashcan. What only solidifies it is that a little upside down smile quirks his lips upon seeing me connect the dots.

Now, we move the the awkward, embarrassment stage that comes with deep connection. Yea, making friends really sucks, especially when I want so much more than friends.

What?

The unwarranted thought flies out of my head as Sal braces a hand on the counter beside me when I don't move, caging me in as he bends forward. His face passes right beside mine and his hair brushes my cheek, making a chill run up my spine.

His body heat encases me like a warm duvet on the coldest of winter days, his scent wrapping around my soul, squeezing tight, comforting. He's so familiar now, it feels so normal being close to him like this. So much so that I ache to hold him right here for hours. Forever, even.

Maybe it's the dim lights in the kitchen, the dark night filtering in from his balcony windows. But when he moves backward, he doesn't go far.

He hovers near me, his hand still pressed into the counter beside me. He's close, very close. Closer than he's ever been, I think.

I map the curve of his lips, my eyes drifting to where the deep scars elongate and change the shape of his mouth, dragging up his cheek and to his eye-- the eye that I can clearly tell is a prosthetic now that he's so close. It looks so similar to his real eye that I genuinely couldn't tell the difference before.

"You have freckles," I whisper upon noticing them, my voice barely above a whisper. Before I can stop myself, I lift a hand between us and gently run my fingertips over his skin, tracing every little light spot along his nose and cheeks.

His eyes glance back and forth between mine in my peripheral vision and at the same time, a light pink dusts his cheeks that I'm so focused on. He swallows, licks his lips. Unable to form words.

He opens his mouth, almost like he's thinking of saying something, but he doesn't. He simply lets out a breath, delicately holds me in his gaze.

I let my hand drop between us, marveling at the feel of his soft skin beneath mine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable though, I'm already ogling him enough as it is.

At the realization that I really am looking at him so hard, I tilt my head down, dropping my gaze. After what that awful woman texted him tonight, I doubt he wants to be looked at like this. Picked apart, observed. The point of this is to help him, not point out everything he probably hates about himself. Though, there really is nothing to hate. The me from a couple months ago would passionately object to that statement, but that's past-me for a reason.

Things change. I changed. Sal's changed.

My breath catches in my throat when his hand presses against my cheek, using the leverage to tilt my head up again. To look at him.

My heart leaps in my chest and I'm unable to breathe when I notice his dilated pupil, feel his thumb gently rubbing my along my jawline. His eyes track his digit's movements, but I can't even be bothered to look away from him. I'm bewitched by his fascination with me, haunted by the calm expression on his face, the wonder in his eyes.

His thumb drags down from my cheek and to my mouth, skimming over my top lip, then the bottom. I feel skittish, burning to move some part of my body to release the energy pent up inside me.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, entranced by my own mouth.

And if he were to actually try to kiss me this time, I wouldn't stop him.

A low hum spreads throughout my entire body upon acknowledging our situation and the tension that's suddenly filled the air. It's a tingling in every limb, down my spine, up to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I feel him everywhere even though he's only touching my face. I can see him so well, so easily. The slightly darker shade of his left eye and the golden flecks of stardust in his right eye. Pretty. So pretty.

"So pretty," he murmurs my own thoughts. Something about the way he says it, so unguarded and adoring, makes me think I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I don't know how to reply or if I even should. I simply watch him like I have been all night, feeling oxygen and rationality leave me with each prolonged second of this somewhat embrace of ours. We've found ourselves like this more than once today, could we possibly escape it again?

I feel so light and heavy at the same time, thrumming with energy but weak. The feeling of his skin, so cool against my flushed skin, is enough to have my mind racing but to make my body completely freeze. I'm stuck. There's so much... so much that I want to do with the way he's looking at me this way, but I can't make myself do it.

I don't quite realize how close we've suddenly gotten until his nose bumps my mask's. A quiet gasp leaves me and his eyes dart up, gazing into mine.

He's fighting himself and I can tell, the quick scrunch of his eyebrows gives everything away.

Things are really about to change-- again. As if they hadn't already.

There's something startling about the way his eyebrows draw together again, but this time in a pleading way, like he's silently willing me with his mind to pull away from him. Begging me to put a stop to his internal madness. To change his mind. His doe eyes look a little scared and a little dedicated– two very different emotions that just so happen to go hand-in-hand for the moment.

The way he's looking at me... it's been so long since anyone has looked so pleasurably torn up over wanting me so badly. And not in a lustful way, but in the way that forms bonds. Connects us so intimately without the goal of chasing an orgasm or being able to get something out of the situation. The way he's looking at me screams curiosity and a need to sate it so bad that he's not fighting the battle he wanted me to pull him away from moments ago. He's just slowly giving in and trying to convince himself that he's not.

I'm no better than him in this moment. My hands are balled into fists, my entire body frozen and awaiting whatever it is that's going to come next. My fingernails bite into my palms and my heart drums against my chest, wishing he'd move closer.

I didn't think it'd be this way. I didn't expect to crave him so badly, to miss the feeling of his lips on mine without ever having felt it before. It's excruciating to yearn for him in this new way and hope that he doesn't back out before I can even feel him.

As if he read my mind, he's moved so close that I can feel his breath on my chin, his top lip brush over mine.

I suck in a choking breath and hold it, praying this isn't all a dream.

"Aren't you scared?" He whispers quietly, his mouth skimming over mine with each syllable. His words echo in my mind, his tone caressing my thoughts, coercing me into falling into him and never getting up again.

"No," I whisper back, shutting my eyes and waiting. It's scarier to look at him and fear that he'll move away. Almost as if to lock him into place, I grip onto the hem of his shirt.

He goes quiet and I feel every one of my neurons lighting up with anticipation when his forehead presses against my mask's.

"Push me away. Something," Sal whispers, the words so quiet and pained that I don't dare open my eyes to observe his current state.

He knows. He knows this is exactly what he told me wouldn't happen, but now it's about to. And we should be realistic, think about the consequences but I don't want to. I just want to feel him, have him near. I want to be selfish.

I lick my lips, forgetting he's so close. My tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I hear it-- feel it when he steals a breath that tries to escape him.

"I can't," I answer him hoarsely, unable to raise my voice for him to hear me better as I squeeze the fabric of his shirt in my fist. Every bit of me aches to touch him, to feel his skin on mine but I can't muster up the courage, not when this entire situation is in his hands right now.

I won't choose for him today, not with what brought us to this. If he wants me, he can take me.

"Please." His word comes out in a broken whisper, so full of yearning that a little whimper escapes my mouth.

"Please," I mimic him, entranced by the featherlight brush of my lips over his. I can't keep doing this. I can't... "I can't think. Do it."

He lets out the most pitiful sigh I think I've ever heard in my life, and then leisurely presses his lips into mine. It's slow, soft, careful. He holds himself there, suffocates in the sensation just as I do.

Everything I thought I had lost so long ago comes rushing back into me. Excitement, life, a want for more than basic necessity. And for once, I don't feel bad. I don't feel guilty for wanting Sal as much as I do.

I place a hand on his stomach to remind myself that this kiss is real, that he's truly standing in front of me.

My touch was the trigger, I realize, when his other hand moves to my other cheek, pulls me closer to him. He tilts his head a bit as his jagged lips part against mine, softly welcoming the slanting of my mouth against his.

My throat feels as though it's clamped shut as I move a hand to grab onto the base of Sal's neck, my fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. I'm completely enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I'm going to faint, my heart beating so quickly, so vigorously that I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears. There's so much emotion that I've bitten down and hidden for so long regarding Sal. It's all coming out now.

Our lips move slowly, passionately. There's no rush, no heat. It's just feeling. Every movement, every moment of his lips sliding so delicately against mine, every ragged breath, every tightening of his hands on my face or my fingers bunching into his shirt. The feeling of our noses occasionally brushing against each other, plastic against damaged skin, and his chin skimming over mine just a bit. It's beautiful and so passionately smothering. The quiet morphs to mimic the simultaneous quick pace of our heart beats.

I feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum right in the center of my chest where we touch, becoming one despite the heavy, loathsome origin story we were granted with. I'm sure he can feel just how much he's affecting me, his hand drifting over my neck and two fingers pressing against my pulse point like he did the first time we were together.

As sadistic as he is, I think he's only checking because he can't tell where his heart beat begins and where mine ends.

Sal's lips close over mine again, the feeling eliciting a shiver that threatens to take over my entire being. I return his kiss, desperate to be closer to him in any way possible while my hand trails from his shirt to his cheek, brushing over the soft, scarred skin.

He presses me against the kitchen counter, his hands beginning to roam past my face and neck as things gravitate from sweet to intense.

Our kiss becomes aggressive, his teeth biting into my lips and quiet breaths and whimpers passing from him and to me. He makes me feel crazy, filling me with exhilaration that courses through my blood quicker than adrenaline ever possibly could.

Sal moves backward and I move to follow, but then his lips leave mine.

I open my eyes, blinking up at him with barely an inch of space between our faces.

He stares at me, looking like I've just torn him to pieces and hid every bit of him away and now he has to play eternity-long hide-n-seek.

But beyond that, his lips are flushed and kissed, his cheeks tinged pink and hair a mess-- when did I touch his hair? His eyes look a little brighter though, a little less haunted.

"Uh," he voices shakily. "Heat of the moment?"

He doesn't even sound like he believes himself.

The statement still makes my hopes deflate dramatically though. I chew on the inside of my cheek and force myself to look him in the eye as I lie to his face. "Yea," I rasp, taken aback by the sound of my voice. "Yea."

He watches me closely, never moving farther nor closer. As the seconds pass, he seems to sober up, the terrified look in his eyes slowly fading away.

If he decides this was a one time thing, at least I got to taste him once. At least we got one moment, one kiss. It's what I wanted and it's what he wants.

Sal interrupts my thoughts, whispering, "You know..." One of his hands painstakingly and slowly trails along my side, making my skin erupt with goosebumps. "I think we're still in the heat of the moment," he continues darkly, gaze falling to my mouth.

I don't let shock take control, I only try to control the smile that tries to quirk my lips. "I think so too," I whisper back, looking down at his teeth that bite into his lower lip like he's barely holding himself back.

As soon as he hears my response, he doesn't bother holding back. He smashes his lips onto mine and engages the two of us in the same dangerous dance we made the mistake of beginning earlier.

-------

A/N::::: BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILLLLLLEEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY TIME-- LIKE I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WRITE AFTER THIS

jk >:3

yea so as much as i adore this chapter, it also scares me because i feel like it moves way too fast (totally hasn't been nearly thirty fucking chapters ahahhaha). so yea, PLEASE let me know how we feel about this and what could have been better!

psa: i'm going to be starting student teaching august 1st, and college has me going to lots of meetings which means things are about to get VERRRYYYY busy for me… busier than they've ever been :( but!! i think things will be okay. lately, i've been teaching myself to fight through the lack of motivation and write any time i get even an inkling of yearning for it. exactly why y'all got this chapter so soon, actually! i saw something about how stephen king writes 5,000 words a day and i've been building to that! so while i won't be able to freely write as much as i know i'll want to, i'll still be writing. you guys know the drill though, even if it takes me a month or two to get something out, WINTER BREAK IS IN DECEMBER WHICH MEANS I CAN BEAT Y'ALL UP WITH CHAPTERS!!!

as always, i love you all SO much. more than you'll ever know. things have been tough on my mental lately and i'm going to be going through a HUGE shift in my life, but… that's okay cuz I know I'll always have you guys. thank you for being the most stable, non-toxic, and reliable things in my life! y'all going in my will fr

have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night my babies <3

p.s. when i wrote this note, i had just posted this chapter to wattpad-- which was about a week ago. the huge shift in my life had involved a six year relationship that i ended yesterday. i am incredibly torn up and shaken by this, but i believe it needed to happen for my wellbeing as well as my growth as a person. I know it's not necessarily an important thing to add to this note, but i want to give a reason just in case this healing process causes a prolonged absence for me. i am completely dedicated to faceless fixation and even today i've thought about what i want to write next, but i need to put some focus on myself instead of running away from my problems. thank you guys for being wonderful, i love you all so much!! until next time <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic

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