#like… it’s one thing to be like he’s loud and it’s another thing to use it as something inherently negative

[a-path-beyond84]

This is essentially what I think the welfare system should essentially be: universal basic dorms.

Ultimately it would be similar to how college students live (or least how they did at the turn of the century).

You would have a very small room. Given that some homeless people are a bit crazy, individuals and families would have their own rooms, rather than having to share with roommates. The room for a single would be very small, perhaps 90 sq ft. It would have a bed, a desk, a chair, and a closet with some drawers for clothes and personal effects. These rooms would be heated to 68 in the winter and cooled to 72 in the summer. Families would have two or three small bedrooms depending on how many children there are along with a common area.

There would be several bathrooms on each floor, very small lockable rooms that have a shower, a sink, and a toilet. In the family areas, some of the bathrooms will have shower/bath combos for small children.

Floors would be segregated by sex, with men on one floor, women on another, single women with children on another, complete families on yet another. You would only have access to your own floor, and you would be prohibited from having unauthorized guests from other floors in your room. It is basically a place to sleep. Each floor would have an embedded social worker or two who live amongst these people and receive a salary on top of that. These social workers are there to form relationships and help them with whatever problems they have in their lives, ideally to help them become self sufficient.

The dorm will have a manager who is present during normal working hours along with at least one other staff member who assists with answer the phone or internet inquiries, signs up new residents, processes residents moving out, etc.

There will also be at least one or two armed security guards active at any time to handle disputes and protect residents and other staff from violence.

A head janitor, building maintenance worker, and chef will be salaried positions, but jobs will be offered to residence to help them build savings. All resident jobs will be $25 per instance, and will include things like helping to cook meals, clean up after meals, clean a bathroom, clean the lounge area, etc.

There would be three common areas: a cafeteria, a lounge for relaxing that has a very large TV for watching movies in the evening (as decided on by a vote of people in the room, movies must be child friendly if any are present), and a small gym for exercise.

The cafeteria serves food at three times per day: 6:30-8:30AM, 11:30AM-1:30PM, and 5:30-7:30PM. Food options will be simple and nutritious, healthy, cheap, and vegan (e.g. rice & beans will always be a staple, with plenty of veggie and fruit options). Feasts including meat will be allowed on special days such as Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. Children will be given lunches to take to school during breakfast and people who have jobs will likewise be able to take lunches with them. Food will not be restricted to residents, anyone who shows up may either eat in the cafeteria with other residents or take a packed lunch for the rest of the day.

There will be rules:

Lights out at 1030PM. All lights must be off, and no unnecessary noise can be made (e.g. no blasting music or loud idle conversation).

Residents are woken up at 6AM.

Rooms are inspected once per week on Mondays for cleanliness.

Access to the residential area is locked between 6AM and 10PM. If a resident misses curfew, he is allowed to sleep in the lounge.

Tobacco, drug, and alcohol use are strictly prohibited.

Weapons are prohibited.

Initiating or provoking physical violence in this setting against staff or other residents results in temporary eviction and whatever appropriate legal consequence. A second offense will cause permanent eviction from the dorm system.

Intentional damage or vandalism of the building or its grounds will first result in a warning with the resident liable to repair the damage, with the second offense resulting in temporary eviction from the dorm system. A third offense will cause permanent eviction.

The point of this program is to provide a true safety net for those down on their luck and have self means testing. If you want to make your own rules and life without restriction, you have to get a job and pay for it yourself. If you don't like driving to the local dorm for a bite to eat every day, you can buy your own food. But if you need a roof over your head and 3 square meals, along with social worker support and a possible income source, this place has it.

Anyone who wants to live there, so long as they aren't destructive, can live here.

I would also have a separate set of institutionalized housing for the severely mentally ill.

[fireinmoonshot]

soft hearted | joaquin torres x fem! reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: You're not the type of person to go clubbing – but Joaquin is pretty good at convincing you to come along with him when he goes. Yet, when an interaction with another man at the club goes badly, Joaquin is there to pick up the pieces and make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of drinking/clubbing/eating/food as well as a guy at the club being creepy and physically grabbing the readers wrist, causing a bruise. Word Count: 4.1k A/N: Here I am with another Joaquin fic! I really love how this one turned out. I honestly wrote it just this afternoon in a few hours, I started it and I couldn't stop working on it. I'm really happy with it so I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, even though it's longer than my last Joaquin fic! Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd like to read more Joaquin from me! 💗

“Did I ever say thank you for coming out with us tonight?” Joaquin says, placing a hand on the small of your back to help guide you as the two of you make your way through the crowd, heading back to your booth where your friends are waiting for their drinks.

He’s been texting you all day trying to convince you to join them tonight – but you are the one member of your friendship group that isn’t into partying and clubbing. It’s always difficult to convince you to leave your house once you’re there. 

It never stops Joaquin from trying though. He always enjoys clubbing more when you come out with them. Even just being in your presence is something he loves – whether he’s at a club or anywhere else.

“Oh, just about ten times,” you flash him a grin, trying to avoid bumping into anyone and spilling the drinks. Your friends had been waiting long enough considering how busy the club was. 

Joaquin laughs, the sound audible above the loud music in the bar. It’s a familiar sound and one that instantly comforts you despite your unease at being in such a crowded place. “Definitely room for me to improve, then, angel. What do you think?” 

“I think, pretty boy, that you could probably benefit from inviting me out somewhere other than a packed club sometimes, simply so I can talk to you without having to yell!” You joke, flashing him a look as you finally get back to the booth where your friends are waiting, placing the tray with all of their drinks on it on the table. They all take their drinks, yelling thank you’s at you and Joaquin as you take your seats again. 

“You guys made it!” One of your friends, Cruz, yells out at the both of you.

Joaquin meets your eyes from across the table with a grimace. Cruz is incredibly drunk by the sound of his slurred voice. Joaquin is only a few drinks deep and he’s nowhere near as far gone as Cruz is. You both share an amused smile as Joaquin takes a swig of his beer.

Clubs are not your thing, never have been. It just so happens that you’ve befriended several people that love them – Joaquin being quite the enthusiast. He’s dragged you out to many clubs over the city in the time since you’ve known him. If it were anyone else, you were pretty sure you never would’ve gone… but with Joaquin, you don’t mind it. His presence is comforting, even in such a busy and chaotic atmosphere.

Joaquin is the kind of guy that all the girls and guys in clubs like these like, and on nights like this, you can understand why. The way he looks, a smile on his face as he laughs at something one of your friends says, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead from the warm air. He’s effortlessly attractive to anyone that looks at him. He’s so comfortable here. You’ve always found Joaquin attractive, but even you can admit that he looks even more attractive when he’s in a place like this – if that’s even possible.

You take a long sip of your drink – water, having decided early in the night that you were gonna be the designated driver for your friends so that they could all enjoy their night properly. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You lean into your friend, Katy, sitting beside you to tell her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll take my phone with me if you need me!”

She nods, a little pre-occupied in a conversation with the guy beside her – someone she’d met earlier in the night at the club and had been with you guys ever since. Your eyes fall on Joaquin briefly, still laughing at something he’d heard, as you stand from the booth.

It’s difficult to make your way through the crowd without Joaquin guiding you, making you feel safe with his hands on you, but you manage. When you see the door to the bathrooms you almost let out a sigh of relief. They’re empty when you finally make your way inside – another relief. Girls at clubs can be nice, but they can also be the entire opposite and it’s nice to have a moment completely to yourself to have a second to breathe.

Once you’re done, you take another long breath before leaving the bathroom, preparing yourself for the walk back through the crowd of people dancing so you can get back to your friends. You walk past the bar first, finding it to be a little less crowded than the dance floor.

It’s louder over this side of the room, the music thudding and thumping since you’re closer to the speakers. It’s probably the reason you don’t hear the voice of someone beside you at the bar trying to talk to you as you attempt to make your way past. You only realise when a hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. You stumble a little, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, eyes falling on a light haired man sitting on a stool at the bar. The way he’s looking at you already makes you feel uneasy. 

“Do you often ignore people who are trying to talk to you, honey?” He says, voice raised enough for you to be able to hear him.

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your eyebrows. “If you said something before, I didn’t hear it. It’s pretty loud in here.” You point towards the roof of the bar where the speakers are. 

He laughs, a sound completely opposite to the sound of Joaquin’s earlier. This mans laugh immediately unsettles you and if he wasn’t still holding onto your wrist, you would be gone. But he has an uncomfortably tight grip on it and you doubt he’s planning to let go.

“Yeah, sure,” he scoffs, then picks up his drink and takes a long sip of it. “Listen, I don’t appreciate being ignored, okay? I put myself out there to talk to you, so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same energy in return.”

You swallow, heart in your throat, and attempt to take a deep breath. This is not good. Why had you gone to the bathroom by yourself? Especially on such a busy night in a busy club.

“Okay,” you start. “If you let go of my wrist, I’ll sit down here and we can talk for a bit.” You figure it can’t hurt to try and bargain with him, even though you have every intention of trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible when he lets go.

“How can I be sure you won’t run away? Nah, I don’t think I will let go.” He adjusts his grip on your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him. Your heart starts beating faster as the fear starts to set in.

You risk a glance across the bar in the direction of your friends booth and feel your stomach drop as you realise you can’t see them from here, meaning they can’t see you either. Surely Katy would notice that you hadn’t come back yet and would come looking for you… you aren’t too far away from the bathrooms, so there’s a chance she’d see you on her way… but you know that she’s too occupied with her new man to come looking for you. 

This is why you don’t like coming out. This is why you always say no when Joaquin or your other friends ask you to come out with them. And the one time you say yes, this is what happens. You should’ve told Joaquin where you were going as well but you figured it’d be okay – it was just a quick trip to the bathroom, what could go wrong?

Panic starts to rise in your stomach and you try your best to push it down and not let it get the better of you. You know you need to keep yourself calm in a situation like this, especially around a man like this, or things can go south quickly. 

“I promise I won’t run away,” you lie, trying not to let your nerves come through in your tone of voice. “But you’re actually really hurting me right now, so I’d appreciate if you let me go. Can we make a deal? I won’t run and you’ll let go.”

You can tell by the look in the mans eyes that he isn’t going to give up this easily. The longer he keeps holding your wrist, the more your breathing starts to get heavier. How can you get out of this situation when he’s not willing to make this deal with you?

A hand gently lands on your lower back and you flinch, just as you hear a soft voice in your ear. “It’s just me, you’re okay,” Joaquin whispers, calming you immediately.

It’s impossible not to let out a breath of relief as your eyes fall on him. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you were gone or Katy had told him you hadn’t come back yet. He’s here. You’re not alone with this man and you know Joaquin isn’t going to leave you.

Joaquin’s hand gently rubs up and down on your back.

“What you’re gonna do right now is let go of the ladies wrist,” he says simply.

You watch as the mans eyes flicker towards Joaquin but then fall back on you, his grip still tight around your wrist. You attempt to step a little closer to Joaquin but it’s impossible to move with him still holding onto you.

“Hey! Eyes over here, man. Not on her.”

The man sighs. “Listen, man–”

“No, you listen to me,” Joaquin steps in-between you and the man, his voice forceful and loud above the music. “What you are going to do right now is let go of her wrist or I am going to break yours right here, right now. And that won’t be all I break either.”

“Okay, sure. You definitely look strong enough to do that, pal,” he scoffs.

You inwardly wince. You know Joaquin is strong enough to do that and worse. He’s a Captain in the Air Force and he’s The Falcon. You’re pretty certain that he could inflict a lot more damage than a broken wrist.

“You wanna find out?” Joaquin asks.

The look on Joaquin’s face must be intimidating because the man finally relinquishes his hold on your wrist. You immediately wrap your other hand around your wrist, holding it to your chest and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through it from his grip.

The man throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes before standing and walking away, further into the crowd of people. Before he’s even disappeared from your view, Joaquin has turned around, his hands moving to take your arm and carefully examine your wrist.

“It’s already starting to bruise… that bastard,” he mutters, his eyes dark. You can hear every word despite the loud music around you simply because of how close he’s moved into your space. “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I only just noticed you were gone a few minutes ago and Katy mentioned something about the bathroom so I went there straight away but I couldn’t find you.”

The fear and panic in your stomach has gone, now replaced by nausea. You can feel yourself starting to shake, the adrenaline of everything starting to wear off. “Can you take me home?”

Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, hold you close and leading you out of the bar. He figures he’ll just text your friends once you’re both safely in a cab to tell them where you’d both gone – that and he’s a little annoyed at Katy for letting you go to the bathroom alone. He’s annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner that you’d disappeared. 

“I’d drive you home myself but I’ve been drinking, angel,” Joaquin says as the two of you wait for a cab on the sidewalk just up the street from the club. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It’s comforting to you, helping you to remember that he’s still there beside you, not going anywhere. “My place is closer, but we can go to yours if you feel up for a longer cab ride.”

You shake your head. “Your place is fine.” You’ve stayed over at his apartment before, several times, both alone and with other friends. His bed is much more comfortable than your own, you’ve learned, since he never lets you sleep on the couch.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing your back gently as the cab pulls up in front of you.

He lets you in first before sitting beside you and telling the cab driver his address. One of his hands holds yours, his thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your skin in an attempt to help calm you down. He can see how uneasy you still feel after it all. Why had he not gotten to you sooner? Not realised you were missing sooner? 

The cab ride back to his apartment is silent, as is the elevator ride up to his floor. You wait beside him, arms crossed over your chest as he unlocks his front door and lets you inside first. 

“You wanna shower or something?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah, I think that’d help,” your voice is small. The sound of it makes Joaquin’s heart hurt. 

“You remember where I keep my clothes? You can help yourself, angel.” 

You nod, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand again before heading towards his bedroom to get some of his clothes to change into before heading into the bathroom just off of his bedroom. 

While you shower, Joaquin kicks off his shoes, steps into the kitchen and starts working on making you something to eat. Something warm, something comforting. He’s become a pretty decent cook over the past few years and cooking for you is one of his favourite things to do. He’s always inviting you over for dinner, which is exactly the reason why you know where he keeps his clothes – you eat, you stay late talking, Joaquin refuses to let you go home when it’s so late at night and he has a perfectly comfortable bed.

His heart almost stops in his chest as he sees you walking out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a shirt. “I know I’ve said this before, angel, but you look damn good in my clothes,” he flashes you a grin. 

You teasingly roll your eyes at him as you walk into the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest as you try and suss out what he’s cooking you. “Bet you say that to all the friends you let stay over and borrow your clothes, Torres.”

Joaquin snorts. “Bold of you to assume I have other friends staying over.”

He doesn’t. Even out of your friendship group, you are the only person who’s stayed over in the last several months and especially the only person he’s let sleep in his bed and borrow his clothes. He’s not willing to admit to himself what that really means. Not yet.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, peeking inside the pot on the stove.

“Pozole,” he says, coming up beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. He’s apparently incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s worried about you. “It won’t be ready for another hour and a half at least, but I figured cooking you something comforting and warm might be nice. I was already gonna cook it for dinner this week so I had everything in the fridge ready to go.” 

“Joaquin, you didn’t have to do that,” you glance over at him. “Really, I would’ve been fine with a cup of tea or a pack of cup noodles. And it’s so late.” You mean it honestly, even though the fact that he’s been prepping everything for this while you were showering sits heavy and meaningful in your stomach. No one ever does things like this for you… except Joaquin.

He shrugs his shoulders and moves away from the stove, hands on your waist so that you move with him. He directs you over to the couch, waiting till you sit down before he puts a blanket in your lap and attempts – badly – to tuck you in. 

“What are you doing?” You can’t help but laugh. 

“You are gonna sit here for the next hour and a half, till the pozole is ready, put on a movie or something, and just try and relax. And I am gonna sit beside you, once I get changed out of these sweaty ass clothes,” he says, standing back up straight. “I’ll be two minutes, angel!” He calls out, hurrying away from you towards his bedroom.

You smile to yourself as you grab the remote to the TV and try your best to curl up under the blanket. It’s amusing, how quickly things can change. An hour ago, you were in the club with Joaquin, who was having the time of his life, and now here you are, curled up on his couch in his clothes. Your eyes drift down to your wrist, where a bruise is already starting to form, and you wince. That’s going to be painful when it fully forms.

Joaquin comes back out a few minutes later, wearing a similar pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank that causes you to focus on his biceps for much too long. You barely even notice that he’s carrying something in one of his hands. 

“Uh, what’s that?” You ask, motioning to the tube.

“It’s cream that’s meant to help bruises,” he says, lowering himself down onto the couch beside you. “I forgot I had it but I bought it for myself not long after I became Falcon. Will you let me put it on you?” 

You nod, letting him take your arm in his gentle grip. He squeezes some of the cream onto your wrist and gently massages it in. It hurts already, even with just the slightest bit of pressure, but you try your best to ignore it and focus on the look of concentration on Joaquin’s face. He looks up at you afterwards, catching you staring. 

“See something you like, angel?”

You look away, a little flustered, and pull your wrist out of his grip. “Thank you.”

He grins and stands up, heading back towards the bathroom to put the tube away and wash the cream off of his hands. He knew it might not be the right time to be teasing with you, but he had to be – this was the Joaquin you knew, and he could tell that right now, the last thing you wanted was for him to treat you like you were something breakable, like what had happened at the bar was something you couldn’t move past. 

“All right, what are we watching?” He says as he walks back to the couch, climbing over the back of it and settling down next to you, resting his arms up on the back of the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You pick somethin’ good?”

You surprise him by passing him the remote. “You choose. I can’t find anything.”

He almost freezes solid when he feels your head lean down on his shoulder. He lets his arm fall around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest so you can rest comfortably. 

“What if I pick something you don’t like?” He asks, trying his hardest not to stare at the top of your head and hope to hell you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, even though you’re laying on the opposite side of his chest.

“Nah, you won’t,” you say. “I like everything you like.”

Joaquin clears his throat and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, what if I put on The Conjuring or something?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you mutter, knowing him well enough to know he’s joking.

“What if I’m being serious, angel? What if all I want is to put on a scary movie so you get all frightened and have no choice but to cuddle up to me in search of safety?” He grins. 

“Joaquin, I’m already cuddled up to you.”

He pauses. “Okay, well that’s true.”

“Just pick a movie, Joaquin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’re thirty minutes into the movie by the time you speak again. Joaquin is invested in the story but the second you speak, his entire attention is on you. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight, Joaquin,” your voice is quiet.

Joaquin gently rubs your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. You don’t have to thank me for anything, angel. You know that, right? I should’ve noticed and come after you as soon as you left. Katy should’ve never let you go to the bathroom alone either.”

He can’t help the bitterness in his tone. 

“I didn’t meant to ruin your night, Joaquin,” you mutter, seemingly ignoring everything that he’d just said to you. 

Joaquin is quick to sit up straight, making you move from your spot on his chest. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed at his sudden movement. He gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Ruin my night? Angel, you did not ruin my night. Did you not hear anything I just said? In fact, you probably made my night even better than it already was. I mean, c’mon, pozole and being curled up on the couch watching a movie with you is a hell of a lot better than being out in that club without you,” Joaquin admits, his honesty getting the better of him. 

You frown a little, eyes clouding with tears. Joaquin is quick to wipe one from your cheek after it falls. His heart hurts at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you and letting you cry into his chest. Your arms wrap around him, gripping the material of his shirt. One of his hands rubs up and down on your back in an attempt to relax you. “I always ask you to come out with us cause I enjoy it more when you’re there. I thought you knew that. And I know the clubs aren’t your scene, but I figured you didn’t hate them that much if you said yes to me every now and then. I promise I won’t ask you again, angel. Especially after what that prick did tonight. I almost knocked his jaw in then and there.”

He smiles as he hears something that sounds like a sob like laugh come from you. 

“If I ever see him again, I can’t promise I won’t break his wrist, believe me.”

“No, you won’t,” you mutter, pulling away from his hug. 

His hands immediately move to your face again, clearing the tears off of your cheeks. 

“Maybe I will,” he shrugs.

“You’re too much of a sweetheart for that, Joaquin Torres. I mean… look at everything you’ve done for me tonight. You telling me you’re not a soft hearted person?” You ask.

Joaquin smiles to himself. “Angel, I’m just soft hearted for you,” he confesses. “Now, I’m gonna quickly go check on this pozole okay?” He stands up from the couch, stretching his legs and padding over towards the kitchen – mostly just to make it so you don’t feel obligated to say anything in return. 

He’s standing in front of the stove, stirring the pozole with a wooden spoon, when he feels your arms snake around him from behind, surprising him with a back hug. “Uhhh, what’s happening right now?” He asks, pausing his stirring.

“Thank you,” is all you offer in answer.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

You remove your arms from around him so he can turn around and face you again. He’s about to ask you what you’re thinking when you lean up and press your lips to his cheek before bounding back over to the couch without another word. Joaquin stands, staring after you in shock. He feels like his cheek has been burned – in a good way, if that’s even possible.

“Hurry up and finish stirring that pozole, pretty boy!” You call out from your spot on the couch. “I wanna finish watching this movie and my pillow has gone missing.” 

Joaquin lets out a small laugh, gives the pozole another small stir and starts walking back over to you. “I suppose I’m the pillow?” He asks, shaking his head. “I’m comin’, angel. I’m comin’.” 

[love-byers]

i've been obsessed with the s4 epilogue for the last few days and i need to talk about this

the camerawork is CRAZY. the amount of tricks they use here is just not necessary for them simply looking through the car window. and remember this is the EPILOGUE. in stranger things the epilogues are packed full with foreshadowing, especially in s4. there is no dialogue, only the voiceover of the new reporter.

these are the first two shots we see, back to back. mike and el are fully visible together on screen, while will is fully by himself. the camera isn't moving much at first

then there are some shots of the destruction in hawkins and families packing up to leave.

then there's this shot of will, possible referencing the phineas gage analogy used in s2. mike and el's heads are barely visible in the back.

then there's another shot of families packing to leave hawkins.

then, there's this:

it's interesting how el is at first hidden behind mike and slowly revealed.

then there's a shot of the high school.

then:

this is the first shot of willelmike from inside the van, not outside the window looking in. el is not visible at all, only will and mike. and the focus is shifting from will to mike.

(i will also note that the music noticeably swells here. seriously go watch it gets very loud and even more emotional when the focus shifts from will to mike)

the next time we see the characters is this:

mike is not visible at all, only will and el.

then:

we see mike and el again, but not at the same time. they are distinctly separated and obscured. we only see one at a time.

this is the last we see in the van. mike, again, is obscured. we still can't see mike and el as a unit like they were being shown as in the beginning. i can't stress enough how important it is that they were originally being shown together. this is also the first time we are seeing through el's pov, looking through her side of the van instead of mike's.

only after the shot that shifts from will to mike, we can no longer see mike and el on screen at the same time. only after the shot of mike and will. and it's only after the shot where mike and el are distinctly separated that we see el independent, looking through her own window instead of mike's while mike is the one obscured in the background, and we get a close up on her face.

we progressively see more of mike and will on screen together.

while every time we see mike and el, we see less of them.

this is storytelling through camerawork, quite obviously. don't forget that this is what we see immediately in the epilogue. mere moments before this, we saw el reviving max, where we hear many quotes such as:

"Not Hopper, not Mike, you."

"See? What'd I tell you? There's more to life than stupid boys!"

"Against the rules?" "We make our own rules."

maybe TWO MINUTES before these shots in the van.

and i'm not trying to get testy cause i know people get sensitive about this, but they chose to show us the love triangle looking on at the destruction and devastation in hawkins. the same love triangle who are inexplicably tied to the monologue, aka a massive act of forced conformity.

"It's forced conforming. That's what's killing the kids."

will mike and el were all struggling with this. el was deeply insecure and felt like a monster, and relationship with mike did nothing but fuel it. she pretended to be someone she wasn't in front of him and EXTENSIVELY lied to him. mike feels like a useless nerd loser who is also likely dealing with internalized homophobia, and his relationship with did nothing but fuel it. he felt like he had to pretend to be someone else in lenora, because his true self isn't enough. the only person to soothe these insecurities of mike's is will byers, who is also deeply in love with mike. will byers, who because of mike pushing him away in an attempt to be 'normal', thinks mike will never ever feel the same and thinks mike loves el. the one person who brings out mike's true self and naturally makes mike feel like his true self is enough, is also the one who pushed mike into saying i love you to el in the end. that's why they failed, and that's why they're the ones with an extended compilation looking on at the destruction. we needed to see them observe the damage that they inadvertently caused.

let me be clear, i'm not blaming them or calling them bad people or stupid or anything. it's all about the narrative and storytelling and themes of the show.

this gets even more interesting when you consider that mike will and el are the leads of season s5. this is how they're portraying the leads of s4 in the final foreshadowing portion of s4.

[slater-baby]

Tags: free use, degradation, slight piss kink (but no actual piss), dubious consent, perverted Simon

Notes: Dedicated to that one anon in my inbox who keeps asking for piss content!! I'm sorry to say I probably won't write your request, but hopefully this small blurb makes up for it ❤️

Simon had never been a patient man. He wasn't patient at work. Wasn't patient at home. And most of all, he definitely wasn't patient when he was inside of you.

Every time he crawled into bed, pinning you down with his meaty hands, biting at your throat nearly hard enough to draw blood, all the while bullying his red, leaking cock into your pussy.

Since the beginning, there was no point in fighting back. A man like him—with all his viciousness and strength—wouldn't be deterred by a thing like you. It was a point only made more embarrassing by the way he held you down and fucked you hard, muttering that demeaning nickname in your ear.

"Shut up," he'd snarl, balls slapping against your ass, "I'll fill you up 'n then I'll go—and you better not test me, little girl. Not right now. Not fuckin' today."

Most of the time, you couldn't do more than spread your legs for him and let him take what he wanted, whining every time he bent your body into a new position.

However, just because he was a brute didn't mean he was brainless. He was your brute after all. And, if you were good enough, he'd give you a bit of leeway.

Today, you bit the bullet.

God, Simon must have had you pinned down for hours, the bed sheets soaked through with sweat underneath your naked body. He was still dressed, but you were bare and raw, his handprints marked into your body from nearly head to toe.

You were so broken and bent you could barely breathe, legs pushed so far back your knees were resting on the pillow beside your head while Simon slammed his swollen cock into your pussy again and again.

"Ngh—“ you wince, scrunching your brow.

Another thrust, another unwitting moan. Fuck, he was ruthless. Every swing of his hips, every slap of his skin—god, he puts his entire weight behind it, the head of his dick pushing into your cervix regardless of how he'd gentle he said he’d be with you tonight.

But, with every thrust, he pushes into more than just your cervix. After so long playing his personal fleshlight, the uncomfortable feeling was beginning to distract you.

"Simon—Simon, wait. Stop," you shove at his shoulder blades, wriggling your hips.

At the tiny taps, he stops, still buried inside of you.

"You good?" he drawls, panting like some looming beast.

"Yeah, it's just..." you look away from him with a flush, slowly easing off of his cock, "I need the bathroom."

He cocks a brow, but otherwise lets you go. However, he certainly makes no effort to pull himself out of the warmth of your pussy, instead watching on with a straight face while you wiggle yourself out from under him.

Prick, you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"You just went," he huffs as you close the door behind you, "Your bladder can't be that fuckin' small."

"Simon," he hears you sigh on the other side of the door, "Look, it's just...when you're inside of me, sometimes you put a little more pressure on my bladder, okay? S'not my fault..."

Is that a whine he hears?

It's definitely a whine, his brain tells him.

Again, he rolls his eyes, irritation building. While you do your business, he looks down at himself, still poised in the position you'd left him. Idly, his leaking cock twitches between his heavy legs, and he scowls, watching as bubbly strings of your slick drip off of the tip and onto the bed. He scoffs as he wraps a hand around it.

"So?" he huffs, fucking into his fist.

"So," you pout, "Maybe you should be a bit more gentle..."

"Yeah, right," he chuckles, pounding his hips into his hand a few times, "Cause you'd still moan just as loud if I was soft 'n sweet wi' you."

There's no answer from beyond the door. Irritation creeps up on him quickly. Impatiently, he stands from the mattress, walking over towards the door. The hinges creak when he leans his weight on it.

"Hurry up," he demands, blood pumping.

"I am hurrying!!" you whine. Again. Like always.

"Fuck."

The vitriol is almost as loud as his libido, blood rushing south. Fondness transforms into want, transforms into sheer need quicker than he can reel himself in. And before he knows it, he's barging through the door. You gasp, having barely stood up from the stool.

"What are you—“ you begin, but you don't get the chance to finish. He merely wraps his ruthless hands around your hips, wrestling you into submission against his stronger body.

"Turn around," he seethes over the sound of your whines, "Bend over. Ass up. I need you."

"B-but, I—“ you mewl like a cat in heat when he swipes his cock between your legs; you're wetter than you've ever felt before, "Simon, I—I still need to go—“

"No, you don't," he grits, grabbing your hair to yank your head up when he slides home. Your entire body trembles against his, legs shaking so hard you stumble forward where you stand, forced to spread your legs over the bowl of the toilet.

You can only gasp in shock as he starts right back up fucking you again, ramming his hips into you hard enough to make you brace your hands against the white porcelain back.

"You don't need a piss, you need to cum," he tells you, as if it were a fact, "If you were smart, you'd be able to tell the difference between the two, love."

"Simon, not—not there—“ you gasp, that uncomfortable urge reeling through your nerves once again, amplified by the way he wraps his arm around your stomach to hold you in place. Shakily, you push a hand behind yourself to shove at his thrusting hips. If anything, it only makes him fuck into your harder.

"Hush," he seethes, thrusting hard to shove you forward. Tears begin dripping down the side of your cheek as that feeling of desperation floods your body, demanding that you cross your legs and hide yourself from him. But Simon won't have it.

No, he only bends you to his will, plastering his sweaty cheek against yours when he begins to speak.

"You need to go, huh? That it, baby?" he mocks, rocking into you slowly—almost as if he cared about your whining moans.

"I—I don't know," you moan, beyond decency now, "Please, just pull out and let me see if I—“

"If you need to go, then go. Right here. Right now," he teases, "Nothing's stoppin' you, baby. Y'won't make a mess or nothin'. Y'just gotta stop whingin' and go."

"Simon—I can't do it—“ you cry, cunt fluttering around him as you halfheartedly try and follow his directions.

"You sure?" he shoves his cock home once more, reaching around to fondle your clit; you flinch against him, "'Cause you feel pretty wet down here to me, baby..."

"That's not—" you try to protest, but find yourself leaning into the feeling, discomfort transforming into pleasure alarmingly quick.

"You clenchin' around me 'cause you're desperate or because you're close? Which one is it, girl? C'mon," he punctuates the words with a slap to your ass, "I don't got all day."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you try in vain to decipher the feeling inside of you. Yet, the more he pushes into you, body strong and warm against your back, the more confused you become. The flush on your face is so severe you can hardly contain your embarrassed tears when you answer him.

"I—I don't know..." you practically sob, listless now. His faithful arms wrap around you, amplifying the emotion coursing through you.

"Aww, that's alright, baby," he coos, smiling wolfishly as he thrusts home once again, "I've got you."

His hot tongue skirts around your neck, laving into a slow, wet kiss beneath your jaw.

"S'okay," his chest expands on a teasing laugh, "Guess we're 'bout to find out which one it is anyway."

At his words, your eyes go wide and you can't stop the gasp that leaves you. However, when he grabs your trembling hands and shoves them up against the wall, perfectly positioning your pussy over the toilet bowl, you whine uselessly at him once more.

"Simon—please—“

"Did someone tell you to talk?" he bites back, wrenching your hair in his hand while he picks up his pace, "No? Then shut up and let me fuck you."

[thaniabb]

I’ve been into sports car by Tate mcrae, don’t blame me by Taylor swift, and Diet Pepsi by Addison rae lately. Idk if that does anything for your inspiration in any way but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ vibes

Love made me crazy - F.W

- ‘don’t blame me’ by taylor swift -

warnings : overprotective!fred, possessive!fred, innocent!reader, no use of y/n, pet names (butterfly, love)

summary : the older weasley twin protective nature toward his best friend, evolves into something darker and more obsessive, though she remains blissfully unaware. As Fred’s feelings for her intensify, he resorts to subtle but intense actions to keep anyone else away from her, pushing every other guy out of her life without ever speaking a word of his true nature. But Fred knows, and the lines between friendship and possessive love blur, creating a tension neither of them can escape.

AN : fucking thankful for this request, working on some more things so ya’ll shall expect that in a few days. anyways request more bb’s! not proofread.

“lord, save me, my drug is my baby”

Fred Weasley had always been the fun one. The one who made you laugh until your stomach ached, the one who was never serious, the one who seemed to bring chaos with him wherever he went. But that was just Fred, your best friend.

You had known him since you were both children, growing up together, inseparable. You had never questioned his actions, never thought twice about the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, when you needed it. He was Fred, your Freddie, the person you trusted with everything.

And why wouldn’t you? He was just your best friend.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Fred was still the same in a lot of ways—playful, charming, always making jokes—but there were moments, small moments, when you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. A flicker of intensity that made you feel uneasy. But you pushed it away. Fred was Fred. He was just protective, that’s all.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It all started after a random, casual conversation you had with Jason, a boy in your year who had always been friendly with you. You were sitting at the Gryffindor table one evening, chatting about homework, when Jason, as casual as ever, leaned over and asked, “Hey, do you think you could help me with that Transfiguration essay? I’m totally stuck.”

Fred, who had been sitting beside you, was silent for a moment. You didn’t think anything of it until you saw him shift in his seat. There was something about the way he moved that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Fred was looking at Jason like he was a bug he wanted to squish.

“Transfiguration?” Fred repeated in a voice that was far too loud. “Nah, mate, she doesn’t have time for that. She’s with me right now. Isn't that right, love?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden intensity in Fred’s voice. “Fred, I’m just helping Jason,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It’s no big deal.”

Fred didn’t take his eyes off Jason, who awkwardly shifted in his seat. “No, I’m sure she wants to help you, mate,” Fred said, his tone almost playful, but there was something dark underneath. “But she doesn’t have time right now. You’re on your own with that essay.”

Jason’s confusion was evident, and before you could apologize or explain, Fred stood up, his movement sharp. “Come on, love , let’s go,” he said, practically pulling you from your seat.

You gave a quick, apologetic look at Jason, but Fred was already steering you away, his grip tight on your arm. You didn’t think much of it at the time. Fred was always like this—always protective, always joking around. It didn’t occur to you that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all just fun and games anymore.

You brushed it off. It was nothing.

The days that followed were similar. Every time another guy tried to approach you, Fred would appear out of nowhere, slipping between you and them with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. It was like clockwork. If you spoke to anyone else, Fred would swoop in, pushing them away without ever saying a word. If you were laughing with someone, Fred would suddenly be there, laughing louder, pulling your attention back to him.

And you, innocent as you were, thought nothing of it. Fred was just being Fred. Your best friend. Always there to protect you, always there to make you laugh. Nothing more.

But his behavior was becoming harder to ignore.

One afternoon in the common room, you were sitting near the fireplace, absorbed in a book. Fred was, as usual, lounging on the couch beside you, but today, you noticed that he was unusually tense. His leg was bouncing, his eyes flickering between you and the door.

“Is everything okay, Freddie?” you asked, looking up from your book. You noticed that he hadn’t been himself lately. He had always been carefree, but now, he seemed… on edge.

Fred glanced at you, a forced smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s great, butterfly. Just a little distracted, that’s all.”

You frowned, but before you could ask more, a boy from Ravenclaw, Peter, walked into the room, carrying a stack of books. You smiled and waved at him.

“Oh, hey Peter! How’s your essay going?” you called, eager to catch up with your classmate.

Peter smiled back, a little shy. “Oh, it’s going alright. I was just—”

But before he could finish, Fred was up off the couch in an instant, practically cutting him off as he threw an arm over your shoulder. “Hey, mate,” Fred said loudly, his tone casual but his eyes a little too sharp. “we were just about to grab some snacks. You know, a bit of quality time. Can’t let her get too distracted by homework, right?”

Peter blinked in confusion. “Oh, uh, okay. Sorry if I interrupted.”

“No worries, mate,” Fred said, ushering Peter away with a playful nudge. But as soon as Peter was gone, Fred’s grin faltered, his eyes turning dark as he looked at you.

“Don’t worry about him,” Fred said softly, his voice low. “He wasn’t going to keep your attention. Not like I can.”

You blinked, a slight shiver running through you at the intensity in his words. “Fred, you’re acting a little strange today. Everything alright?”

Fred smiled, but it was tight. “Of course. Nothing to worry about, butterfly. I’m just here for you. Always.”

You didn’t quite understand what he meant, but you nodded and smiled back, assuming it was nothing more than one of Fred’s usual quirks. After all, he was just Freddie, your best friend, right?

But you didn’t know. You didn’t see the way Fred’s eyes would darken every time another guy came near you. You didn’t know that, after every “innocent” interaction, Fred would slip away quietly and find the boy who had dared to speak to you, cornering him in empty hallways or behind corners, his words cold and threatening.

“Stay away from her,” Fred would whisper, his voice low and dangerous, his smile gone. “She’s mine. Don’t even think about it.”

The boys, scared and confused, would back off, retreating with nervous glances, and Fred would return to you with that same innocent smile, as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn’t just scared off anyone who might dare to take his place by your side.

And you—completely oblivious—continued to see Fred the way you always had. Your best friend. The one who had always protected you, made you laugh, and kept you safe.

But the more Fred watched you, the more obsessed he became. Every time you spoke to someone else, his heart would race, and his mind would scream. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t let anyone else near you.

“Don’t blame me,” he whispered to himself one night as he stared at the moon, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. “You made me crazy, butterfly. You made me this way.”

And yet, the next day, when you smiled at him, when you laughed with him, he was the same Fred you’d always known. He would never tell you. He would never let you know how much he was losing himself in this love, how much he couldn’t stand the thought of you with anyone else.

Because you were just his best friend. Right?

As time went on, you continued to brush off Fred’s strange behavior, convinced that everything was as it always had been. But Fred’s obsession was only growing stronger, and he couldn’t stop. Every time you laughed with another boy, every time you looked at someone else, he felt a pang in his chest. But he never showed it. He just continued to push everyone away, quietly, ruthlessly, until no one else dared to approach you.

And you, innocent as ever, never suspected a thing.

But deep down, Fred knew. He knew that he was falling deeper into something he couldn’t control. And in the end, it wasn’t just about being your best friend. It was about wanting to be more.

And he’d do anything to make sure no one else ever got that chance.

“don’t blame me, love made me crazy”

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ

…𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦

angst, suggestive, slight smut, friends with benefits?, slow burn, friends to lovers?, unspoken feelings, longing, subtle romance, unresolved tension, mutual pining, unrequited feelings?, reader is on her period

word count - 2.1k

The silence between them had stretched longer than it should have. It wasn't an argument, not really. Just avoidance, both of them skirting around the thing that had happened. The weight of his body pressed into hers. The deliberate drag of his hands. The heat that had pooled in the space between them. And then, nothing. A retreat, like neither of them could bear to acknowledge it out loud.

Now, she was curled up on his couch, pressing her forehead into the cushion, arms tucked under her chest like she could fold in on herself completely. He was on the other end, fingers idly tapping against his thigh, eyes flicking to her every few seconds.

"You good?" he finally asked, voice rough like he hadn’t used it in a while.

She sighed, shifting slightly. "Yeah. Just cramps."

That got him to move. He hesitated for only a second before reaching for her, a hand finding her knee, his touch firm but careful. "Come here," he murmured.

She blinked up at him, hesitant. "Chris—"

"Just do it," he said, softer this time, like he wasn’t sure she’d listen.

She did. Slowly, she moved over him, pressing her body flush against his side, cheek to his chest, limbs draped over him like she belonged there. His arms came around her instinctively, hands settling at her lower back, thumbs tracing lazy, soothing lines against her skin. The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his body molded to hers. It settled something in her, even as it rattled something else loose.

"Better?" he murmured against the top of her head.

She nodded, letting her fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, just barely grazing the skin beneath. Chris tensed, just for a second, but didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on her tightened.

Her head turned, nose brushing against his collarbone, breath warm against his skin. "You’re warm," she whispered, barely audible.

His fingers pressed into her back, sliding up, up, up. He traced the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist. "So are you."

She didn’t mean to shift, not really, but the way she moved sent her thigh brushing against his, her chest pressing more firmly against his own. His breathing hitched.

Her fingers curled slightly, nails dragging just enough to make him exhale sharply. "You okay?" she whispered, the hint of something teasing in her voice now.

His hand flexed on her back. "Don’t start."

She hummed, shifting again, innocent, but not really. "I’m not. Just getting comfortable."

His hand slid up her spine, fingers ghosting along her shoulder blades, then down again, stopping just at the small of her back. "Yeah?" Chris said, voice lower now, rougher. "Me too."

She let her weight settle more fully against him, letting the tension coil, letting the moment stretch. Another cramp came, and she flinched, sucking in a breath through her teeth. His grip tightened for a moment, then his hand slid lower, rubbing gentle circles into her waist, his palm warm and steady.

She couldn’t help it, it felt so nice. A soft whine of appreciation fell from her lips, followed by his name, followed by a more desperate plea. His hand moved up, brushing along her ribs, then higher, skimming just under her chest. She stilled, feeling the careful way his fingers traced the edge of her sore boobs before he pressed his thumb there. Gentle, grounding, comforting. He ran the finger over her nipple, whilst cupping the rest of her breast. Her breathing grew more shaky, and the anticipatory tremble of her body slowly replaced the pain she was in.

"Is this okay?" Chris asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. You looked up at him, seeing the boy you’d known for so long, the one always so eager to make sure you were comfortable, the one you were so desperate to love.

His hand lingered, fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin. "Is this okay?" he repeated, quieter this time, rougher, like the answer mattered less than the feeling, less than the tension building between you both. His touch was gentle, but there was an urgency beneath it now, like he was unsure of the line between them, but so desperate to find out where it would lead.

She swallowed, feeling the knot of tension twist in her stomach. It was a stupid game they were playing, but she didn’t stop him. Instead, she leaned up, just enough to kiss him, a soft, tentative brush of her lips against his. It was sweet, too sweet and too late for what had already happened between them.

He responded in kind, slow and careful at first, as if feeling his way through the moment. His hand moved from her chest to the back of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair and pulling her in closer, his kiss deepening, urgent, like he couldn’t quite stop himself.

Her fingers slid down his chest, tracing the line of his abs, then down farther to where the waistband of his pants rested, her touch light but explorative. She could feel him tense, his body reacting to her in ways that only made her heart pound harder. But still, he didn’t pull away, his hand moved to her thigh, rubbing in slow, comforting strokes, coaxing her to relax.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice so hushed now that it was almost a whisper. His hand slid up under her shirt, his fingers brushing along the soft skin of her side, the touch gentle but insistent.

She met his gaze, searching his eyes for any hesitation, but found none. The warmth in his gaze was enough to make her stomach flutter. She nodded, her lips brushing against his in response, as if telling him, yes, I’m sure.

His hand slid under the hem of her shirt, fingertips tracing the curve of her waist before gliding upward, brushing the side of her breast again, this time more deliberately. She couldn’t hold back the quiet gasp that escaped her lips, her body arching into his touch instinctively.

His thumb flicked across her nipple, slow, deliberate, a touch that had her heart hammering in her chest. The air around them felt thick, charged, and every tiny movement made her feel more exposed, more vulnerable, and yet more alive than she ever had.

"Chris..." she breathed, her voice broken, needy. Her hands moved urgently now, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, eager to feel more of him. He let her, lifting his arms so she could tug it off, his eyes never leaving hers, reading her every move like a question. 

She let her fingers trail over his chest once the shirt was gone, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. The air between them was thick with tension, a promise hanging in the quiet space that stretched between their breaths. She wanted him, wanted to feel all of him, to push beyond whatever was holding them back, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to cross that line. A rush of heat pooled between her legs, and the dull ache in her abdomen from the cramps faded, replaced by a stronger, more insistent need.

Her palm found his, their fingers brushing and then locking together as he guided her hand lower, both of them still on the edge, still hovering in that delicate balance. Her breath caught when she felt him through the fabric of his underwear, her heart racing. The softness of the moment was almost cruel in contrast to the pulsing desire between them.

The cramps came again, more noticeable now, sharp and unwelcome, but she couldn’t stop the low moan that slipped from her lips as her hand moved over him, exploring the heat of his body. He groaned quietly, his grip tightening on her waist, urging her closer, his palm sliding, pressing gently, teasingly, between her pants and her underwear.

It was almost like an instinct, this heat that flared as she shifted, her hips rolling, her body grinding slowly against his, the pressure building with every movement. She could feel the hardening bulge of him, and it sent a shock of desire straight through her. The rhythm was slow at first, a deliberate drag of her hips against his, teasing and urgent all at once.

Her breath quickened as she pressed against him again, more desperately this time, the fabric the only barrier between them. She was caught between the ache in her abdomen from her period and the overwhelming heat pooling between her legs, but the friction, the way their bodies fit together, drowned out everything else. Her palms slid down to the waistband of his pants, fingers curling as she pulled him closer, desperate for more.

He groaned low, his hand moving to her back, pulling her further into him, his breath ragged in her ear. She couldn’t stop the soft whimper that left her lips as she rocked her hips again, the movement causing a rush of warmth to spread through her, but still, a part of her held back. She wanted to keep going, wanted to let go completely, but the reality of where they were, of what was happening, made her hesitate.

She breathed his name again, her voice trembling, unsure whether she wanted to stop or if she wanted to push him further. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer, and the moment hung suspended, as if neither of them knew where to go from here.

But then, with a deep breath, he pulled back slightly, gently nudging her head so she was looking up at him. His eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite read, but there was a softness there that made her heart race, despite everything.

“We should stop,” he murmured, his voice tight, still breathless. The words felt like a small rejection, a gentle push back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, she could see the hunger in his eyes, but something about it still made her feel small, like she wasn’t enough. The warmth between them, the heat, suddenly felt distant, like an impossible thing they could never quite reach.

She nodded, her throat tightening, the soft ache of disappointment welling up inside her. She shouldn’t have initiated it with him, especially not when she was on her period. She hadn’t explicitly mentioned it, hadn’t even acknowledged it herself much today, but now it felt like an unsaid barrier. The way he pulled away, though it wasn’t harsh, felt like a quiet dismissal.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible, caught somewhere between acceptance and something darker. Maybe another time, she thought, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being undesired, of her own needs being too much to ask for. She should’ve known better than to let herself get carried away, knowing the pain still lingered.

Chris shifted, sensing the change, and his arms wrapped around her gently, pulling her back into him. But the distance that had settled between them lingered in the space where their bodies touched. It wasn’t the same now. The connection felt fragile, uncertain. Her head rested on his chest, but the soft beat of his heart felt distant, no longer syncing with her own.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick, and she could hear the weight of his regret in the words. "I didn’t mean to… I just don’t want to rush things.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her from pulling away entirely. She sighed softly, her fingers curling against his skin, the ache in her chest growing. She knew he didn’t mean it like that, knew that the hesitation wasn’t a rejection of her as a person, but the doubt, the sense of not enough was harder to shake.

Especially because it was him. Chris. Christopher Sturniolo, her best friend. They hadn’t even talked about it. The first time, or now. She didn’t know where he stood, and she didn’t even know how she felt.

“It's fine,” she whispered, even though it wasn’t. Even though she wanted to be close, wanted more. But for now, this would have to do. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pulsing ache between her legs, the reminder that she wasn’t the picture of perfect desire. But she could still feel the warmth of him against her, the steady rhythm of his breath as they lay there together.

They lay there in silence for a while, his arms around her, holding her, but she couldn’t escape the quiet pang of feeling left behind. She felt safe in his arms, but still… she couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting more. The absence of the conversation they hadn’t had yet felt heavier than any of her need.

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

a/n: once again i love and hate this! lmk if you'd like a part 3 bc i may have an idea for it. this is for alexis, erm, so i hope u like it girl.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga @chrepsi

cya sooooon !!!

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of injury, poor writing, ooc writing,

Part 18: turning point

🔹🔹🔹

The police come to the manor the next morning to question you about the incident, one of them was in the garage looking over the car while another officer sits with you in the foyer with a notepad and pen like this was the forties, how quaint.

Thankfully for your sanity they don't seem to judge you much as you recount the incident in a clinical voice, after just a few moments Bruce joined you on the couch and throws an arm around your shoulder and silently sets his hand on your leg. you nearly rolled you eyes but bit your tongue for the time being.

sure he's no longer a stranger to you, but it pisses you off how he acts like he's concerned and supportive when there's other people around after the way things went last night. you have to wonder if it’s for your sake or his image sake.

He remained pretty much silent, only chiming in to tell the officer he can get camera footage sent to them to show when exactly you and Damian left and returned, the hand resting on your arm tightened near enough to bruise during certain parts of the questioning, his nails dug into your skin when you went into detail about the gun against your head and the threats against the boy. he only relaxed his grip on you when the topic changed to questions about whether you knew the man or not, whether you believed the attack was connected to your concussion, etc.

As soon as the officers leave so do you, you shrug off Bruce as soon as he attempts to speak to you and trot to your room. You don't care how childish it comes off as, you're still pissed and you know you’ll restart things if he pushes you right now.

You hardly speak to anyone for days after that, suddenly you're no longer to be found in the library or going on walks around the property edges, you stay in your room and push yourself to train to the point of incapability and then go down to the kitchens to feed yourself and repeat the cycle, it’s terribly unhealthy and you’re well aware of that, but you’d rather hurt your body while building yourself up into something useful rather than hurt what little rapport you have left with the waynes.

And that's just how things stay, Bruce avoids you after you shrugged him off and Alfred only makes half-hearted attempts to engage with you, finding excuses such as needing to clean your room or insisting on bringing you tea. The kids must know what's going on because they awkwardly avoid you, Duke constantly stumbles over his words when you walk by and leaves the room if you run into him in the kitchen, Cass stares at you silently from corners and nooks, never directly engaging with you. you haven't even seen Tim once in days, it's like he just up and removed himself from the home. Seems the only one not totally pissy is the youngest…

“can we talk?….” his knuckles rap in the door as he let's himself right in, clearly not caring to wait for an answer first.

You sit up from where you'd been doing pushups to frown at the kid, your shirt sticks to your skin from sweat and you're sure you look like a royal mess at the moment. “….i’m a little tired, damian.”

He rolls his eyes at you and drops down on your bed with a loud thump, mossy eyes scrutinizing your form while you cap a water bottle and chug half of it in one go.

“no you’re not, i just….wanted to talk.” his voice loses bravado part way through and he looks away while awkwardly fiddling with the bedding, picking at random strings like they're so very interesting. You sigh as you set the bottle down and wrap your arms around your knees. “….okay, what’s up kiddo.”

For a moment he's quiet, fidgeting in place as he tried to gather himself into his usual snarky form, you look around the room to avoid silently staring the kid down and make him more uncomfortable.

“i wanted to…. apologize….for what happened.” Damian looks uncharacteristically out of his element, that almost sounded painful for him to choke out judging by the wince of his lips like he sucked on a lemon.

With a sigh you roll to your feet and stretch your arms above your head, muscles aching something fierce in protest to your overdoing it. “what happened in the city isn’t your fault, you're not responsible for anyone else's wrong doings, kiddo.”

Damian just loosely crosses his arms over his chest while looking up at you, his expression hard to read. But you'd like to think you've got a decent read on the kid by now, his body language screams unhappiness.

“i forced you to go out, you and father are fighting because i disobeyed his orders.” his tone drops to something more sullen, your gut twists at the way he refers to Bruce's rules as ‘orders’, it doesn't sit right with you, too painfully familiar. Your own childhood ‘orders’ echoes through your mind and you quickly dig your nails into your palm to distract yourself, the pain is grounding, familiar like a family friend.

The mattress squeaks under your weight when you drop down beside him, your hands awkwardly clenching in your lap before you do something insanely out of character like trying to comfort the boy. hopefully he doesn't get grossed out by your sweaty form.

“look, i won’t lie to you or sugarcoat things, we shouldn’t have gone out without telling bruce or alfred, you’re smart enough to see that. but anything between me and bruce is just that, between me and him. things are….difficult right now, a disagreement was bound to happen no matter the cause.”

Your gentle voice doesn't seem to put the kid at ease, he turns towards you with a pouty scowl on his face as he practically bristles like a cat.

“that doesn’t change things, i almost got you killed again.” he gestures at your head while speaking, you're suddenly reminded of the fact that Damian was also there when the concussion happened, how many times has he watched his parent figure narrowly avoid death?

“….damian, you’re not responsible for me. in any way, shape or form. i’m an adult, you’re a child. you’re supposed to do….child things, i don’t know. The point is that anything that happens to me isn't your fault. Neither you or Bruce are my guard dogs.”

Damian swallows audibly and looks away from you, his eyes again downcast as he starts pulling on a loose thread on one of the pillow cases.

His voice is heavy when he speaks again, refusing to meet your gaze as he all but whispers. “….i wish you remembered.”

Something about that makes your intuition prickle, you don't know if it's the heaviness in his voice or the way Damian seems to suddenly look worn, more like a soldier than a child.

You don't like the way it makes your skin crawl, your chest heavy like there's cement behind your ribs. “…remember what?”

Damian looks up and opens his mouth to speak, them slowly closes it.

“….. Never mind…. You…you were really cool, how you beat that guy up….”

You know it's a deflection, and the way he's looking at you you know he knows you know. But you're not gonna push the boy. So instead you just mess up his hair in an annoying way.

“…don’t mention it…”

There's a lot of unspoken words hanging in the air, you know he's holding something back, something that's hurting him, and for a moment you think of spilling your own demons, to tell him you're not who he thinks you are, this isn't a mission after all, you don't have any goals here, you have no reason to keep pretending except your own cowardly desire to sweep your real self under the rug. Pretend you're almost something half good. yet it doesn't come out, maybe one day it'll rot you from the inside out until someone sees the real you gaping from between the cracks. Until then both of your jaws remain stubbornly clenched.

🔹🔹🔹

Nightwing squats on the ledge of the warehouse roof as he peers through the skylight, positioning himself just right so he doesn't cast a shadow into the building. watching the wannabe Mafia punks sort through various stolen goods on top of the wooden crates and old tables.

It's almost funny how clueless they are to being watched, thanks to these people batman's benched and the GCPD is scrambling for more manpower with the increasing attacks, luckily none so bad as the first night but it's clear what they're doing. Establishing presence. Nightwings gloved hands tighten around his eskrima sticks as a few of them laugh loud enough over something to be heard from his position.

“How many we looking at?” A mechanical voice hums from behind, Nightwing doesn't have to look to know red hood's stalking up to him.

“Looks like two, maybe three dozen, could be more coming with how quickly they're cracking boxes open. Like they're expecting more product to sort through.” Nightwing replies quietly, not taking his eyes off the thugs.

He feels a hand briefly land on his shoulder as red hood kneels by him, also trying to avoid casting a shadow in the minimal moonlight peering through the clouds.

“sounds like a party, already tagged the getaway cars?” Wordlessly Nightwing taps his com twice, Oracle chimes in red hoods ear to answer his question.

“tagged and plates all already ran, we'll have a full list of every registration within an hour.” Red Hood hears her loudly sipping on something in his com and snorts in amusement, focusing back on the men inside. “Penguins?”

Nightwing shakes his head, leaning closer to the glass to keep an eye on a man moving out of sight. “someone new, still trying to pin down the head.” Red Hood sharply turns his head to look at him, Nightwing can guess at his expression under the helmet.

“they're operating in penguins usual territory? This'll go to shit quickly once word gets out…” he groans quietly and rubs the back of his neck, he pulls his Glock out and starts checking and rechecking his ammo, pulling his extra mags out and checking those too.

“…so…. We gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Nightwing murmurs without looking away from the men, though he doesn't miss how red Hood throws his head back and sighs.

“your ass, or the little spat B and operater had?” Oracle's voice crackles in both their ears, Nightwing snorts while red Hood sighs again. “Can you not talk about asses right now, I'd like to keep my appetite thanks.”

Nightwing playfully elbows him, snickering quietly at his reaction. “You're such a child, man. You'll get the talk from Bruce eventually.”

Oracle also giggles in both their ears, taking another obnoxiously loud sip of whatever it is she's drinking. “Someone's gotta break the ice around here.”

“I'm not talking about someone else's marriage issues.” Red Hood huffs, stubbornly checking his weapons one more time before watching the thugs below them again.

“Well too bad, I am. Operater looked ready to put themselves in jail and B nearly burst a blood vessel when he found out, you should see the clips I put together from the parking lot cams.”

“I don't blame them, B’s way over reacting and being a smothering jackass.” Red Hood replies tensely.

“He's not being smothering.” Nightwing rolls his eyes and corrects himself when both Oracle and Red hood scoff loudly. “Okay he's a little smothering, but it's more like….thin blanket smothering than heavy pillow smothering though. He's smothering with love and concern.”

“meat rider.” Red hood mutters under his breath, Nightwing elbows him in offense. “Shut it, how else is he supposed to respond to the near public execution?”

“you and I both know that if someone pointed a gun at the little demon B would do the same thing, it's like he forgets that people outside of costumes can do more than freak out. Plus he's so goddamn weird around them now.” Red hood scowls under his helmet, do they need to have this discussion here?

Oracle clears her throat quietly. “Well…I agree with that sentiment…but…” her voice takes on a hesitant edge, both Nightwing and red Hood glance at each other in confusion.

“…but…?” Nightwing presses on. “…but, I think we can agree that mentally torturing someone in a parking lot is just a bit extreme right?” At both their silence she continues. “you saw the clips from red Robin right? You'd think they'd just leave as soon as the threat was incapacitated, not shove a gun down their throat while literally interrogating them.”

Nightwing hesitantly speaks up, “I mean, obviously yeah. But they recently survived something traumatic, take it from the guy who's been in their shoes, it can fuck up your entire response system.”

“Night, a coma doesn't teach you how to successfully crack my programs and rip them out of hardware by the roots. A coma doesn't make you try to stab people or beat someone half to death. Whatever's going on with them isn't normal and we're trying to figure out where it's coming-” red Hood interrupts Oracle before she can continue. “Hang on, you're telling me you think they're what, a body double? An alien spy? You letting the old man's paranoia get to you now Oracle?” “…I'm just checking all our bases, B and red robins doing it too, It's precautionary.”

Nightwing grabs red hoods shoulder before he can react, putting his finger to his lips before gesturing down below them. “Don't lose focus.” His voice is nearly a hiss, squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go.

“…you're the one who's been going off about B lately, now you're spying on operater for him?” red Hood grumbles as he shifts, moving away from the glass to peer over the edge of the building when he hears the rumble of an engine in the distance.

“Unknown vehicle, quarter mile away. Traffic cam shows an old fire truck heading your way. Now don't call it spying, that makes it sound creepy.” Oracle's voice echoes slightly as they hear her shuffling through the ear pieces, probably adjusting her headset.

“I've got eyes on it, I'll call it what it is Oracle. You're butthurt about the hacking fail so you're going to extremes on them.” Red hood mumbles, ducking down as the truck slowly pulls up to the warehouse.

“As if you're not constantly butthurt about something, weren't you pissy for a week because they didn't pick your movie?”

“like they've ever favored the godfather over Lord of the rings, I know once they watch it they'll obviously see the superior choice.” red hood huffs exasperatedly, clearly still bitter.

nightwing holds a hand up, red hood shuffles back to his side to peer down at the men, he watches them all shuffle towards the entrance just as the firetruck parks in the alley beside the building. “more goons, great.” red hood sighs out sarcastically.

“another eight, looks to be armed. got the deets on the truck oracle?” nightwing hums, starting to do some light stretches as he gets ready.

“you know i’m on it….hmm, stolen from a collector last month. they’ve got somewhere they’re hiding stolen cars?” oracle replies, tapping coming through the mic as she switches between different monitors.

“….so are we gonna ignore red pouting?” nightwing says playfully, he snickers when red hood elbows him roughly and moves away from him to get into position. “shut your whore mouth, dickhead. i’m taking lead.” red hood rolls his eyes under his helmet when he hears two voices snickering at him.

nightwing holds his hands up when he gets a sharp look, trying to wipe the smirk off his face as he rolls his neck and shoulders. “alright, alright. it’s officially dropped…until this is done. take your spotlight red.”

red hood sighs exasperatedly as he stands, after a moment of silence he kicks through the glass and jumps into the building while multiple people yell in surprise.

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

A/n: this is kinda giving filler chapter to me, sorry y'all 😔 the next one is much more interesting tho 👀👀

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd @tsxukikami @paastaboi @duskeras

[kaivenom]

May I request OP DILF with a reader who likes to ride them or who can be more dominant at times

The OP Dilfs with a dominant!reader that likes to ride them

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

Warnings: sex (obviously)

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

Even though he accepted to let you be on top and ride him, it still looks like he has the power.

He has too much dom energy going on, so you decided to also tie him up with some rope and handcuffs (shibari style).

That made things a little easier, but still his eyes looked like you were about to melt.

It's nearly impossible to surpass this men on domination.

Luckily, when he closed his eyes and started humping the air, searching for contact and groaning a little, then you started to feel better about yourself.

One thing that he will never say out loud is that he may have dramatized a little his behaviour to make you feel better about it, he knows his appearance can be a little to intimidating sometimes.

Donquixote Doflamingo

If you want to be dominant and ride him, you will have to fight him for it.

Since he is really big, you know you can't win, but you can still try.

He will keep in mind your efforts and then evaluate if you are ready to thake the charge or not.

The experience is curious cause he is big and you take your time but he also is impatient and tries to speed things up.

Since he isn't used to being under someone's orders, he has a hard time trying not to buck his hips into you.

His ego is giving him a bad pass so he tries to humilliate you with some dirty comments but at the end he is the one trying to hold back and not whimper.

Sr. Crocodile

Another one that looks difficult to be dominant with, he is just too much confident and serious.

He makes you earn it, fight with him (psychologically, of course) for the right to dominate him.

Since he is a lot bigger than you, you feel at disvantage to these type of things.

Even his attempt of being nice and help you sounded like a dominant order.

Trying to get the strings of the situation and made him be on the vulnerable side this time, you went to his office for a booty call.

He became so nervous and restless that for surely you will pull out this move everytime you want to take control.

Smoker

He is a bubbling mess.

He said that it isn't manly that you take control, then you caught him with his guard down and suddently he is whining and suplicating you to continue.

He turns into the most subby - miserable - moaning/whimpering men ever.

And you are more than ready to indulge him in that.

If you stop moving, he would surely pray for you to start moving, grabbing your legs and trying to gain some power over you.

You discovered a new world to him, even though he doesnt wanna admit it, you made him go crazy and he is going to indulge in this more often.

Akagami Shanks

Really easy to convince him.

But he is really playfull so he can pull a rolling movement mid-fuck where he puts you on top or he gets back to top.

You have to be prepared when you are riding him just so you can stop him from rolling you both to change positions.

He really loves having you on top and restraining him, giving him orders of where he can touch and where he can't.

He just lives to see your tits bouncing next to his mouth and be able to feel all you weight on top of him.

He gets so loud that you have to cover his mouth with your hands or a rag cause he becomes a moaning mess.

[strangelittlestories]

"You know, Red Riding Hood, *some people* consider it rude to comment on a person's physical traits." Grandma's awfully big and bushy eyebrows (above her awfully big eyes) raised in unimpressed fashion. "Like, if it comes up in conversation, sure. But completely unprompted? For shame, granddaughter."

Red considered this. She considered this deeply. She held a brief little internal conference about this.

Red's Super Ego: She's got a point. In an ideal world, this isn't how we'd behave.

Red's Anxiety: Yeah, we fudged it, lads. We've screwed the pooch. Really wrenched the dalmatian. And absolutely bolted the little doggie too. The only thing to do now is apologise and get eaten.

Red's Healthy Boundaries: Hold up, can we consider context? Sure, avoiding physical commentary is usually a good rule, but it's situational right? And the situation we are *currently in* is noticing that our grandma has suddenly developed a severe case of apex predator. A condition that, by the way, is usually terminal ... but not for her.

Red's Lizard Brain: RUN RUN RUN! TEETH! RUN! TEETH! OH GOD! FLEE FREEZE! AAAAAAAAAA! GULLET! MUZZLE HER WITH A DOILIE! USE THE CROCHET LIKE A NET! PUNCH THE SNOOT!

Red's Ancestral Knowledge: Hold up. Something feels ... I dunno. Itchy? Like. Itchy on the inside. There's something we're missing. Why does it feel like night-time when it's not dark? Why do I love this wolf in grandma's clothes? What *day* is it?

Red's Critical Thinking: Sorry I'm late to the party, gang. Hey, if this wolf ate grandma, then why's everything so clean still? Like, no gore or splatter? And if it ate her whole, then how's it wearing her nightgown?

Red's Adrenal Glands: Hey, you guys like 4 Non-Blondes? 'Cos we're about to take a deep breath and then GET REAL HIGH.

All of this happened in moment. But that, it turned out, was still a moment *too long*, because Red's mouth had been talking out loud while the other bits had been talking in her head.

"Grandma, let's cut the crap." Red's voice was blunt, but still fond. "You're a big old wolf and I'm snack-size. But just because you're a danger doggo, doesn't mean you're not *also* my family. Maybe you ate grandma. Or maybe the full moon's about to come out and it turns out granny's always been a bit howly around the edges. It doesn't matter - either way, my gran's in there somewhere. And I love you. You hear me? I love you no matter what you are. So if you're gonna eat me, you'd best do it quick, because the woodcutter usually checks in around this time and he is not a lover of anything lupine. So ... what do you say?"

Red could see two different creatures were warring in grandma's eyes horizon-wide eyes. One hungered for community. Another hungered for flesh.

But, ultimately, both were pack predators.

"My, what a big heart you have, granddaughter."

And the wolf engulfed Little Red Riding Hood with its limbs, rather than its jaws.

"Phew. That's a relief. I wasn't sure who was gonna win there." Red's voice was a little muffled from around the fur and fluffy nightgown. "But I wasn't joking about the woodcutter. So unless he's likely to get real chill with some stuff real quick, you and me have gotta make a man disappear, grandma."

Grandma the Wolf nodded.

"Hey kid. If a tree falls in this forest and no-one's around to hear it?" Grandma's big-ass teeth were all the better for grinning. "Then can they do us for murder?"

"They cannot." replied Red, resolutely. "Let's make this tree-hating motherlover cry wolf."

"I'm actually a little surprised you're so down for murder, Red."

"Well, they do say the best defence ... is a *hood* offence."

[sexlapis]

*

A thud jolts Toji out of his sleep.

It was a quiet noise, barely audible to the average person.

But he heard it loud and clear.

He sits up immediately, blood already bubbling hot and pumping through his body. He reaches behind his pillow and pulls out his gun, then proceeds to slowly climb out of his cheap bed, wincing internally at every creak and squeak it makes.

Toji curses his past self for being so stingy.

This must be the day then. The day when somebody finally put a hit out on him and now some rando is out to finish the job and get their prize.

Toji wouldn’t make it that easy for them.

He didn’t make it this far, survive the brutalities of the Zenin’s, the loss of the love of his life and then, essentially, his child too, to be killed by some sucker who doesn’t even have the balls to face him properly.

Not a fucking chance.

Toji creeps out of his bedroom, inching towards the kitchen where the sound came from. It isn’t a long journey - it’s a small, shitty apartment he lives in and the rooms are barely even separated from one another.

As he gets closer, he hears it; shuffling sounds, like someone is looking through his things, through his cupboards and cabinets along with the occasional clank of a tin.

Is this just a thief? Maybe a homeless person? A cat?

He wasn’t going to wait and find out.

Quelling down the small itch of fear, he flings the door open. Gun raises, hairs standing up right. Ready to fight. Ready to kill.

There, rummaging through the cupboard is…you.

Definitely not a thief. Definitely not a hit man. Certainly not a curse user or a bounty hunter.

You stand there, frozen. Your eyes bulge out of your skull at the sight of the gun a few feet away from you. And at the tall, domineering man who holds it as easily as holding cutlery.

“Who the fuck are you?” Toji spits.

Your mouth falls open and no words come out.

You seem to be frozen in fear. For good reason.

The man in front of you is a tank - big, no doubt physically strong and could easily put you down without having to use the gun in his hand. And judging by the scar on his lips, you’d guess he is well versed in the world of fighting and brawling.

You’re screwed.

The guns clicks.

“I said, who the fuck are you?”

“I-I, I’m-“” You cut yourself off with quick, uneven breaths, “-please-“”

Toji looks you up and down, gun still raised and pointed right at you.

Then he realises he knows who you are.

You’re that person he sees everytime he goes out. He wishes he could be more specific, but it’s impossible because he really has no idea who on earth you are.

Sometimes you’re walking hurriedly down the street, eyes on the ground. Other times he catches sight of you in the alleyway, sitting on the grimey ground, asleep. One time, he even noticed you shoplifting from the shop of the nice old lady who gives him free hard candy, which he thought was a shitty thing to do, but it’s not like he can talk. He’s not the police.

Still. Toji knows you. Well, knows of you.

Other than your survivalist behaviours he knows not a damn thing about you, not even your name. Not your age. Nothing.

You’re elusive, hidden in plain sight, in the flashes of his peripheral vision, and right now, Toji has never been more confused in his whole life.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

Still, you stare at him like a deer.

It’s getting harder for him to believe you’re a threat.

You gulp, hands raised in surrender. Your body trembles.

“I…I was…I was hungry.” You croak out. Your eyes quiver, going glassy. “I’m sorry.”

Toji blinks at you. He observes your old, worn clothes, your unwashed hair, the dark rings that paint your eyes, the tears that now streak down your face. The lines and dents in your face that are only carved by a life of hardship and pain. Then he sighs. He lowers his gun.

You’re no killer. You’re not a threat. You’re just hungry.

Whatever anger, fear, apprehension or hostility Toji felt towards you fades away with each slow breath of relief he exhales.

Now, as he looks at you in your ragged clothes and your wide, scared eyes all he feels for you is pity.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people like you in Toji’s line of work - the outcasts of society, the people who exist along the edges of civilisation, the ones who need just one more pill, the girls selling their bodies on the street to so-called upstanding men, the former soldiers who are payed for their service with a missing leg and a seat on the side of the street - people like you who walk along the cliff of society just waiting to be pushed off.

He sighs.

Toji could just tell you to fuck off, to get out and never come bask, to threaten you for real so you don’t do anything this stupid again.

Instead, he walks to his fridge.

You yelp at the movement, heart drumming in your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut. You wait for the impact of a smack, a punch, a bullet, a kick, anything, preparing for how you will get yourself out of this situation you walked right into.

You hear the fridge open and close. You can hear him walk towards you. Then he’s in front of you. His body heats wavers over you.

“Here.”

Your eyes flutter open.

He holds a package of tinfoil to you. It smells nice. Really nice. Saliva pools on your tongue.

You blink up at him, eyes wet and vision blurry.

Toji peers down at you. He looks bored.

Toji tuts. “Are you gonna take it or what?”

You alternate between glancing at the foil-wrapped food and at him, blinking wildly. It seems like you’re sizing him up a little. Trying to see whether this is some kind of trick, if he wants something from you in return.

Finally, which twitching hands, you clasp the food in your hands.

For a moment you both hold onto it. Toji’s big hands look almost comical next to yours.

He lets go. Toji almost thinks you’re going to drop it considering your weak grip, but you don’t.

You look at the foil-covered food for a second. You can’t believe this stranger who you only see in passing just…gave you food after breaking into his house. Now that you think of it, you should’ve been more careful, you aren’t usually so reckless. But you were so damn hungry, and you got caught shoplifting (though, you were let off with just a warning - they felt bad). So, you were desperate. And considering how things turned out, you got lucky. It could’ve turned out much worse for you if it was some other guy who wasn’t…whoever this guy is.

Toji goes back to looking through his fridge like you’re not even there. He’s probably looking to see if you took anything. You didn’t.

“Thank…Thank you.” You stammer out. Your teeth chatter.

Toji cuts his eye at you.

“Don’t break into people’s apartments. You’ll get shot one day.”

Your breath hitches. You give him a static nod.

Walking backwards, you look at the package in your hands again. The smile you give him is a genuine one, softening your tired eyes. You turn your back on him, running towards the open window in the kitchen and jumping out.

Then you’re gone.

“Fuck.” Tojj curses. “This neighbourhood is fucking crazy.”

*

masterlist

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 19

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: mentions of drinking, tension, suggestive

Nick and Nate stumble toward us, their faces lit up with amusement, the unmistakable buzz of alcohol obvious by their faces. Their energy is loud, unfiltered, and completely opposite to the quiet, intimate vibe Matt and I had been enjoying just moments ago.

"Look who we have here!" Nick announces, swaying slightly as he points between the two of us. His tone is teasing, like he's caught us in the middle of something.

I glance behind them, noticing Chris is nowhere to be seen. "Where’s Chris?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Nate lets out a laugh. "Dude got a FaceTime call and then just decided to dip. Didn’t even say a real goodbye, just up and left."

Matt and I share a similar look.

"Old people behavior."

We both burst into laughter at how effortlessly it came out of both of us, but the second I meet Nick and Nate’s eyes again, I realise our little moment wasn’t so subtle. They’re both looking at us with suspicion, eyes narrowing as they exchange a glance of their own.

"Okay" Nick says, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is going on with you two? How was your night?"

I freeze slightly, feeling the weight of their gazes. I can tell they’re waiting for us to slip up, for one of us to give something away, and I don’t trust myself to answer without letting something show.

I bring my cocktail to my lips, taking a slow sip to buy time, but before I can come up with something casual, Matt steps in smoothly.

"Good, we were hungry so got some pizza and now a cocktail” Matt gestures to his near empty glass. “Nate, you wanna come the bar with me? I need another drink" he says, the ease in his voice almost too perfect.

Nate pauses, his eyes flicking between us for another second, before he shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

As they turn toward the bar, Matt throws me a quick reassuring glance. He knows Nick is going to grill me, and he’s giving me a chance to handle it before they come back.

I sigh and tilt my head toward the outdoor seating. "Come on, Nick. Let’s go find a bigger table before they get back."

Nick follows, but I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face.

"As we weave through the crowd to find an open table, I can still feel Nick’s eyes on me, sharp and calculating. The second we sit down, he doesn’t even try to play it cool.

"Alright" he says, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Do you have feelings for Matt?"

I choke on my cocktail, barely managing to swallow before shooting him a glare. "Jesus, Nick. Being subtle really isn’t your thing, huh?"

He smirks, clearly enjoying how flustered I am. "Nope. So? Do you?"

I stare at him for a second, debating whether I should keep playing it cool. But honestly? I’m tired. Tired of pretending, tired of acting like there’s nothing there when the weight of it has been pressing down on me for so long.

I exhale, setting my drink down. "Yeah" I admit, my voice quieter than I expected. "I do."

Nick blinks, like he wasn’t actually expecting me to say it out loud. "Wait- seriously?"

I nod, suddenly feeling like a huge weight is off my chest. 

Nick doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just studies me, processing everything. Then, to my surprise, he huffs out a laugh. "You know, I always kinda suspected there was something there. You two have been dancing around it for so long, it was only a matter of time before one of you snapped."

I groan, covering my face with my hands. "Is it that obvious?"

Nick grins. "Not to everyone. But to me? Yeah. And definitely to Nate, too. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at you two earlier."

I peek through my fingers. "Shit..Nate has actually said it to me before."

Nick chuckles, shaking his head. "So what now? Are you guys.. together?"

I hesitate, chewing on my lip. "I don’t know" I admit. "I mean.. we kissed.. but it’s not like we’ve talked about what it means."

Nick raises a brow. "And you’re okay with that?"

I pause, really thinking about it. "I think I just.. want to see where it goes. I don’t want to overthink it."

Nick leans back, nodding. "Fair enough. Just-" He points at me. "If he screws with you, I’m kicking his ass. I don’t care if he’s my brother."

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Noted."

Before he can say anything else, I spot Matt and Nate heading back toward us, fresh drinks in hand.

"Alright" Nick says, lowering his voice as they get closer. "Your secret’s safe with me.. for now."

I shoot him a grateful look before turning my attention to Matt. And when our eyes meet, something in my chest tightens.

Yes. I do have feelings for him. And there’s no point denying it anymore.

Matt sets the drinks down on the table and slides into the seat next to me, his arm casually draped over the back of my chair. He takes a sip of his cocktail before looking at Nick and Nate.

"So, how was your night?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Nate snickers immediately, nudging Nick. "Oh, you mean aside from Nick pulling?"

I blink, turning to Nick so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. "Excuse me?"

Nick just shrugs, way too nonchalant for my liking. "What?"

"You kept that quiet!" I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

Nick leans back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his drink like he hasn’t just been exposed. "I keep my cards close to my chest" he says, smirking.

I groan, laughing at him. "I actually hate you"

Nick just grins, clearly enjoying this way too much.

Matt, who has been watching all of this with an amused expression, finally cuts in. "Hold on, hold on, so Nick got a guy’s number and just wasn’t gonna tell us?"

Nate nods, grinning. "Yup.The guy just walked over, chatted a bit, asked for his number as if it was nothing."

I shake my head at Nick. "Unbelievable."

Nick just shrugs again. "Maybe I wanted to keep things private. Ever think of that?"

I give him a narrow eyed look, almost to telepathically say "Oh, so you get to be private, but you get to interrogate me about Matt?"

Nick doesn’t even try to hide his smug expression. "Love you too, Y/n."

Matt leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he glances at me. "You know” he starts, tapping his fingers lightly against the side of his drink, "we haven’t really had a proper beach day since we got here."

I tilt my head at him, knowing I had only mentioned it to him earlier. 

“What do you mean? We’ve been to the beach loads of times." Nick says.

"Yeah" he nods, "but not when Y/n’s been here. Not just a full day of sun, sand, and doing absolutely nothing."

Nate leans forward, intrigued. "Are you trying to sell us on the idea of a lazy beach day?"

Matt shrugs, his eyes still on me. "I just think Y/n should experience it properly at least once before we leave. No chaos, no interruptions, just..enjoying it."

Something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip, the idea of spending a whole day with nothing to do but be with him settling into my mind.

I smile at him, nudging his knee under the table. "Alright. You’ve convinced me."

Matt grins, satisfied. "Good. It’s settled then. Beach day tomorrow."

Nick raises his glass. "To doing absolutely nothing productive tomorrow."

We all clink our drinks together, and I can’t help but look over at Matt, the way he’s already watching me with that smile.

Tomorrow’s going to be a good day.

After finishing our cocktails, we fell into conversation for a bit. Although the strip is still alive with laughter and music, the idea of heading back to the villa sounds more appealing now. 

"Alright, shall we head back?" Matt asks.

Nick and Nate nod in agreement, both still riding the buzz from their night out. "Yeah, I think we’ve done enough damage here" Nick laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I need my bed."

We stand to leave and Matt throws an arm around my shoulders as we start walking. The four of us move through the strip, dodging groups of tourists and late night partiers, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salty food from the vendors still open.

"You excited for tomorrow?" Matt asks, keeping his voice low just for me.

I glance up at him, feeling the emotions of the night settle in my chest in the best way. "Yeah" I admit. "I think I really am."

His fingers brush against my arm before he lets them fall back to his side. "Good."

We eventually reach the villa, Nick and Nate disappear to their rooms, already half asleep on their feet, but Matt and I pause for a moment in the hallway, neither of us quite ready to part ways just yet.

"Well" I breathe, stretching my arms above my head. "Guess I should sleep if we’re making a whole day out of tomorrow."

Matt leans against the wall, watching me with that same unreadable look I’ve started to recognize. like he wants to say something, like he’s thinking too much. But instead, he just nods. "Yeah. Get some rest."

There’s a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, but then I smile at him, a quiet promise in the way my eyes meet his. "Goodnight, Matt."

He exhales, like he was holding something in. "Goodnight, Y/n."

And then, finally, I slip into my room, shutting the door behind me. My heart is still racing, but it’s not from nerves, it’s from something else entirely. Butterflies.

I stand in front of the mirror, slowly wiping away my makeup with a cotton pad. My mind is a blur, replaying the way Matt had looked at me, the way his voice had wrapped around my name like it meant something more.

I sigh, dropping the used pad into the bin and reaching for my moisturizer when there's a knock at my door.

I pause, my heart stuttering in my chest.

Slowly, I walk over to the door but before I could pull it open, Matt walks in, his hair slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it a hundred times before knocking. His expression is unreadable for a second, but then his lips pull into a small, loving smile.

“I, uh..” He exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he’s annoyed with himself. “I couldn’t let you go to sleep without this.”

And before I can even process what ‘this’ is, he steps forward, his hand gently cradling my jaw as his lips press against mine.

It’s soft but carries intent, like he’s been holding onto this moment all night. My breath catches as I melt into it, my hands instinctively finding their way to his chest like something I could sink into forever.

It lasts only a few seconds, but it leaves a spark running through me, setting my skin on fire. When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against my cheekbone, his forehead lingering against mine for just a moment longer.

“Sweet dreams” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

I barely manage a whisper, my lips still tingling. “You too.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me standing in my doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs, my entire body buzzing.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

The next morning, I wake up naturally, the sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains. There's an excitement in me that I can’t quite shake. I stretch lazily before glancing at my phone, it's still early, too early for anyone else to be up. But I don’t mind. If anything, I love the quiet, the peaceful anticipation of the day ahead.

I slip out of bed, the cool tiles meeting my bare feet as I wander downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. It seems like I’m the first one up.

A small smile tugs at my lips thinking about today. Beach day.

Feeling restless, I make my way outside onto the patio, but something catches my eye through the glass doors leading to the patio. Movement.

Curious, I walk over quietly, pushing the door open to step out onto the deck next to the pool. That’s when I see him.

Matt is already up, standing by the small outdoor table, his back to me as he arranges something on the surface. A tray sits there, holding two plates, fresh fruit, toast, and what smells like coffee.

Breakfast for two.

I blink, taking in the scene, my chest tightening in a way that feels both overwhelming and sweet. His hair is still a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he’s already dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt, barefoot, moving around casually as he preps everything.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take a second to just watch him. The fact that he did this, that he got up early, set this up for just us, makes my heart do something stupid in my chest.

After a moment, I clear my throat, and Matt turns, his brows lifting slightly before a slow smile spreads across his lips.

“Morning” he says, voice still thick with sleep.

I glance at the table, then back at him, my lips tugging upward. “Didn’t stick you for the breakfast in the early morning type.”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, almost sheepish. “Figured you’d be up early, excited about the beach.” His eyes flicker to mine, a little softer now. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

My stomach flips.

I step closer, glancing down at the plates before meeting his gaze again. “Well, consider me surprised!”

Matt pulls out a chair, gesturing for me to sit, and I do, watching as he takes the seat across from me. The morning sun rising higher, the pool water glistening, the palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It feels intimate, peaceful.

“Thanks for this” I say after a beat, picking up my fork. “Really.”

Matt just grins, reaching for his coffee. “Anything for you.”

As we eat, the conversation flows easily, a mix of light teasing and comfortable silence. Matt asks me what I’m most excited about for today, and I tell him everything, the sand, the sun, the sounds of the ocean. 

At some point, he reaches over and steals a piece of fruit off my plate, smirking as I gasp dramatically. “You have your own, Matthew” I scold, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“Yeah, but yours just looks better” he quips, popping the piece of mango into his mouth.

Before I can retaliate, the sound of footsteps shuffling from inside catches our attention. A moment later, the patio door slides open, and the peace of the morning is replaced by the familiar chaos of everyone else waking up.

Nick is the first out, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Look at you two, up and at it like a married couple” he teases, eyeing the spread on the table. “Where’s my breakfast, huh?”

I roll my eyes, while Matt just smirks. “You were sleeping like the dead, figured you wouldn’t be up anytime soon.”

Chris and Nate follow shortly after, both looking groggy but intrigued by the food. Nate sniffs the air dramatically. “Damn, y’all didn’t think to make this a group thing?”

Matt leans back in his chair, stretching lazily. “Early bird gets the breakfast.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, well, early bird is gonna have to share.” He plucks a piece of toast off Matt’s plate before flopping into the seat beside me.

I glance at Matt, who meets my eyes with an amused look, before shaking my head and laughing. Just like that, the quiet moment is gone, replaced by the usual banter and noise of everyone together. But I don’t mind, we still have the whole day ahead of us.

After breakfast, everyone scatters to get ready for the beach. I head to my room, digging through my suitcase for the bikini I packed specifically for a day like this. It takes me a minute to decide, but I finally settle on a black two piece, simple but flattering. I throw on a light, flowy cover up over it and slide into my sandals before grabbing my tote bag, stuffing it with suncream, a towel, and a pair of sunglasses.

When I step out into the living room, Matt is already there, wearing swim trunks and a white linen shirt that’s unbuttoned, exposing just enough of his toned stomach to make me momentarily forget what I was supposed to be doing. He smirks when he notices me looking.

“You ready?” he asks, tossing a bottle of suncream between his hands.

I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah as always”

Nick and Nate appear a few minutes later, carrying a speaker and a cooler. Chris follows behind, looking half awake but ready. The energy is high, there’s a buzz in the air, a shared excitement.

We pack up our things and head out, the beach isn’t too far so we decide to walk. As we walk onto the beach, the sand warm beneath our feet, I fall into step beside Nick. I nudge him playfully with my elbow.

“So, did you text him yet?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Nick rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “No” he admits. “Didn’t want to seem too eager.”

I scoff. “Oh, please. You got his number for a reason. What’s the harm in a little ‘had fun last night’ text?”

He shrugs, glancing at his phone like he’s debating it. “I don’t know. What if he’s not actually interested? Maybe he was just being nice.”

I laugh. “Nick, he gave you his number. That’s not just being nice, that’s interest. Don’t overthink it.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I hate that you’re right.”

I grin. “I know.”

Matt, who had been walking ahead with Nate and Chris, slows his pace until he’s beside me, catching part of the conversation.

“Nick’s got a little romance brewing?” Matt teases.

Nick groans. “Oh, God. Here we go.”

Matt smirks. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we should all go on a double date.”

I laugh, while Nick looks horrified. “Absolutely not” he says firmly, shoving Matt’s shoulder. “You two are bad enough alone.”

Matt just grins, giving me a quick glance before looking back at the ocean stretching out ahead of us. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I glance over at Chris, who’s been quiet this whole time, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls with a concentrated expression. He hasn’t said much since we left the villa, and now that I think about it, he was the first to call it a night yesterday.

"Where’d you disappear to so early last night?" I ask, nudging his arm lightly.

Chris barely looks up, but I catch the small smirk on his lips. “Had some business to attend to.”

I raise an eyebrow. "Business? Sounds sketchy."

Matt, walking just ahead of us, snorts. "It’s Chris. It probably was sketchy."

Chris finally pockets his phone and rolls his eyes. "Relax, I just had to deal with something."

Nick jumps in. "Deal with something, or someone?"

Chris doesn’t answer right away, just smirks before shaking his head. "You guys are way too interested in my life."

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling like there’s more to it than he’s letting on. "So, no details then?"

Chris flashes me a knowing look but doesn’t elaborate. "Nah, just know I had a good reason to dip early."

I exchange a glance with Matt, who looks just as unconvinced as I feel. But before I can press further, we reach the beach, and Chris walks ahead like the conversation never happened.

Nate is power walking ahead of all of us, completely determined to claim the best possible spot on the beach. “Man’s on a mission” Nick mutters beside me, shaking his head as we watch him weave through groups of people like he owns the place.

By the time we catch up, Nate has already staked out a prime spot. not too close to the water but not too far either. “Five loungers secured!” he announces proudly, dropping his bag onto one of them.

“Alright, Nate” Matt chuckles, setting his towel down. “Did you fight someone for these, or?”

“Nope” Nate grins. “Just my superior speed and determination.”

Chris rolls his eyes as he kicks off his slides. “More like you nearly took out a family of four.”

Nate shrugs, completely unbothered. “Survival of the fittest.”

I laugh as I drop onto one of the loungers, stretching my legs out. The sand is warm beneath my feet, and the sound of the waves rolling onto shore instantly puts me at ease. The weather is perfect, just hot enough to make the idea of getting in the water tempting, but not unbearable.

Matt plops down beside me, rubbing some suncream onto his arms. “Alright” he says, turning to me with a small smirk. “Are you actually getting in the water today, or are you gonna pretend to and then just sit here looking cute?”

I scoff, taking off my sunglasses to look at him properly. “Excuse you! I always get in.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Dipping your toes in doesn’t count.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can argue, Nick throws his arm around me dramatically. “If you don’t, we’re throwing you in” he warns.

I groan. “You all are mean.”

Chris, who’s already lying back with his arms behind his head, cracks a lazy smile. “Better start mentally preparing now.”

We lounge in the sun for a while, letting the warmth soak into our skin as we take in the beach around us. The sounds of waves crashing and distant laughter create the perfect atmosphere, and for a little while, none of us feel the need to do anything but just exist.

Chris has his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed like he might actually fall asleep. Nate, always restless, scrolls through his phone but keeps glancing up at the water like he's itching to go in. Nick is lying on his stomach, probably still thinking about how to text that guy from last night. Meanwhile, Matt is next to me, shifting occasionally as if he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to drag me into the ocean.

Eventually, Nate sighs dramatically. “Alright, enough lying around. We came to the beach, let’s actually get in the water.”

Chris grunts but doesn’t open his eyes. “You go ahead.”

Nick stretches, sitting up. “Yeah, I’m down. I need to cool off before I melt.”

Matt turns to me with an expectant look, his smirk already forming. “You coming, or are we throwing you in?”

I roll my eyes but stand up, dusting sand off my legs. “I’m coming, I’m coming. No need for violence.”

Matt grins. “Good choice.”

We all head toward the shoreline, the hot sand beneath our feet quickly giving way to the cool, foamy edges of the waves. The water is crystal clear, and as soon as we step in, it’s instantly refreshing.

Nate, naturally, is the first to dive under. He comes up shaking his hair out like some kind of surfer movie actor. “This is the life” he sighs.

Nick walks in a little slower, shivering as the water reaches his waist. “Okay, yeah, that’s cold” he mutters.

Matt stays beside me, watching me closely. “Alright” he teases, nudging me. “Moment of truth, are you going all the way in, or are we carrying you?”

I give him a look before dramatically diving under myself, resurfacing a moment later with a victorious grin. “Ha! See? No need for threats.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Damn. I was kinda looking forward to an excuse to tackle you.”

I splash him in response, and before I know it, all of us are caught in an all out splash war, laughter mixing with the sound of the waves.

As we calm down, Nate suddenly claps his hands together. "Alright, I have an idea! Lets play a game of chicken!"

Nick groans. "Oh god."

Matt looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think? You wanna take these guys on?"

I shake my head, laughing. "Matt, have you seen them?. We’re at a serious disadvantage here."

Matt grins. "So? We’ve got strategy."

"Strategy?" I repeat, skeptical.

"You’ll see" he says, already crouching slightly to let me get onto his shoulders.

I hesitate for a second before climbing up, balancing myself as he stands to his full height. From up here, I can see Nate already hoisting Nick up onto his own shoulders, calling over to Chris to ask him to referee.

Chris calls out from the shore. "Alright, you two, fight to the death! Uh, I mean, first one to fall loses."

I brace myself as Nick reaches out, trying to shove me, but I dodge, gripping Matt’s head for balance.

"Not happening" I tease.

Nick tries again, but I bat his hands away, and Matt shifts his stance, stepping further into the water.

Matt suddenly spins in the water, making me abruptly shift to the side, just enough to knock Nick off balance.

"What the-" Nick yells as he topples, dragging Nate down with him.

Water splashes everywhere, and when it settles, Matt and I are the only ones still standing.

"Are you kidding me?" Nick sputters, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

Nate shakes his head, laughing. "Damn. Alright, that was smart."

I let out a victory cheer, throwing my arms up. "Champions!"

Matt tilts his head up to look at me. "Told you we had strategy."

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. I slide off his shoulders, feeling an odd mix of emotions settle in my chest. There was something about being that close to him, his hands steady on my thighs, the way he instinctively moved to keep me balanced, that left a weird, lingering feeling inside me. I shake it off, telling myself it's just adrenaline from the game.

We step back onto the warm sand, making our way to the loungers. I grab my towel, patting the salt water off my skin, while Matt runs a hand through his dripping hair before flopping onto his chair beside me.

Nick, still toweling off, suddenly perks up. His phone buzzes on the table between us, and he snatches it up. His eyes scan the screen, and his expression changes instantly, somewhere between excitement and nerves.

“Who is it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Nick hesitates, then sighs dramatically. “It’s him.”

Nate, who had just finished stretching out on his lounger, peeks over. “Wait, the guy from last night?”

Nick nods, staring at his phone like it holds the secrets of the universe. “He said, ‘Last night was fun, we should do it again sometime.’”

I grin, nudging him with my foot. “See? That’s a good sign.”

Nick groans, tossing his head back against the lounger. “What do I even say back?”

“‘Yeah, let’s do it’” Nate suggests, completely unbothered as he sips his water.

“Too forward” Nick mutters, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

Matt, who’s been silent beside me, finally speaks up. “You’re overthinking it, dude. Just be casual, try find out how long he’s even here for. Say something like, ‘Agreed. When are you going home?’”

Nick considers it, then slowly starts typing. I lean closer, watching the message form on the screen, before teasing, “I can’t believe I’m witnessing the birth of your love story right now.”

He hesitates for just a second longer before finally hitting send. “Alright. Now we wait.”

I grab the bottle of sunscreen from my bag now that I need to reapply, shaking it a little before twisting off the cap. The midday sun is hot, and I can already feel my skin warming under its intensity. As I squeeze some into my palm, I pause, realizing there’s no way I can reach my back properly.

I glance over at Matt, who’s lounging beside me, his sunglasses perched on his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

“Hey” I say, nudging his arm. He looks up, pushing his glasses onto his head.

“What’s up?”

“Can you help me with this?” I hold up the sunscreen, turning slightly to expose my back. “I can’t reach.”

Matt doesn’t hesitate, taking the bottle from my hand. I shift forward on my lounger, pulling my hair over one shoulder as he squirts some into his palm. The first touch of his hands against my skin makes me shiver slightly, not from cold, but from something else entirely.

He moves slowly, rubbing the lotion in with firm, warm strokes, his fingertips grazing my shoulder blades before moving lower. The feeling is.. distracting. That same odd sensation I had earlier in the water creeps back in, the awareness of how close we are, the way his hands linger just a little longer than necessary.

“You’re tense” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual.

I huff out a small laugh, trying to ignore the way my heart suddenly seems to be hammering in my chest. “Probably from carrying all you guys in chicken.”

Matt chuckles behind me, his breath warm against my shoulder. “You wish.”

His hands glide over my lower back before finally pulling away, and I find myself missing the contact more than I should. I take the bottle from him, murmuring a quick, “Thanks” as I shift forward, trying to shake off whatever that was.

But as I catch his gaze, I wonder if he feels it too. But then I notice it, almost staring right at me.

As casually as I can, I grab my phone and type out a quick message to Matt:

Fix your pants.

I glance up just in time to see him read it. His eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head, smirking at the screen. A second later, my phone buzzes.

Can’t help it when you’re sitting next to me like that.

My breath catches, heat creeping up my neck as I reread his words. I hesitate before replying, but there’s no point in denying it.

I feel the same.

There’s barely a pause before he responds.

You wanna help me fix it?

I bite my lip, trying to suppress the shiver that runs through me. My mind spins for a way to sneak off without raising suspicion, and then it hits me.

I clear my throat and stretch, making a point to sound nonchalant. “Anyone hungry?”

Nate lazily tilts his head back from his lounger, eyes half shut behind his sunglasses. “Not extremely” he mutters.

Nick shakes his head. “I could eat, but I’m not starving.”

I nod, keeping my tone even. “I think I’m gonna walk back to the villa to grab something.”

Matt immediately pushes himself up from his chair. “I’ll come with. We can make sandwiches for everyone and bring them back down.”

The perfect excuse.

Nick shrugs. “Sounds good.”

Chris barely looks up from his phone, and Nate just mutters something about getting some fries later.

I stand, brushing the sand off my legs, and Matt does the same. I feel his eyes on me as I grab my bag, and when I finally meet his gaze, I know we’re on the same page.

We turn toward the path leading back to the villa, walking just a little too fast, anticipation crackling between us.

The second we step inside the villa, the cool air hits my sun kissed skin, but it does nothing to cool the heat building between my legs. The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly, the feeling gets thicker, heavier.

Matt drops the beach bag onto the counter, glancing at me as he rubs the back of his neck. "So.. sandwiches?"

I raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. "Is that really what we came back for?"

His lips twitch, and before I can blink, he's stepping closer, crowding me against the kitchen counter. "You tell me" he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

My breath hitches, but I hold my ground, tilting my chin up. "You were the one that needed fixing."

His hands land on the counter on either side of me, caging me in. "Yeah?" His eyes flick down to my lips for just a second before meeting mine again. "And you're the one that offered to help."

a/n : LOOK AT THESE HORNDOGS

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Sometimes Pony and Johnny would just sit down on the porch together. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes Pony sketched, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes it was just them, sometimes the whole gang was there. But this time they were alone. Darrel was still at work, Steve and Soda had gone on some double date thing, Dally was back in county lockup, and Two Bit was off getting drunk god knows where with god knows who. But Pony and Johnny sat next to each other on the porch.

Their legs were touching and their hands were gently sitting over Pony’s knee, pinkies twisted around one another, passing a cigarette back and forth while they watched the sunset. It was nice and it was quiet, something that seemed rare these days.

Johnny finally said something as Pony took a drag of the cigarette. “We could do it yknow”. At Pony’s confused look and tilted head, Johnny clarified, “we could go off and get our big house on a hill”. Pony let a soft smile slip onto his face, “yeah, we could, and I could read a new book to us every week…” his voice trailed off as he let his eyes slip shut as images of it swirled in his brain.

He could see it so clearly. Just him and Johnny. It would have flowers, and a garden, and they could watch every sunset. Then, when it got late, they could curl up together in a huge and soft bed that they would never be able to afford. It was perfect, peaceful, and oh so far away. It would be theirs. He would be lying if he said he didn’t hear his brothers’ voices whispering that he was too much of a dreamer for his own good. Maybe he was, but when he was sitting here like this, listening to Johnny and feeling the gentle weight of his head on Pony’s shoulder, could you really blame him?

He was so lost in his head that when he went to pass the cigarette to Johnny, it slipped out of his fingers. He heard Johnny giggle as he bent forward to pick it up, knowing Darrel would lose his mind if there was another cigarette burn on their porch.

Just when his hand curled around the cigarette, it was like everything shifted. Suddenly he was surrounded by smoke and the hood awful orange color that he knew meant fire. Fire. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. He was just with Johnny on the porch, laughing and dreaming about their future. He wasn’t in a church, he wasn’t surrounded by flames, he wasn’t alone. Except he was. He tried to suck in a breath but his lungs rejected the air, sending him into a coughing fit.

When he finally got his breathing more under control he began to look for Johnny, running through the smoke as it stung his eyes and he could feel the heat building all around him. But he needed to find Johnny.

When he finally saw him, he called out his name and watched Johnny turn. It took everything in Ponyboy to not throw up when he saw Johnny. Because the boy looking at him wasn’t the same one he was just with. No, this Johnny was in that same damn hospital gown he’d died in. His neck showed the nasty burns he’d gotten. His cheek still had the fresh cut from the socs. But the worst part was his eyes. Because Johnny was looking at him with dead and unseeing eyes.

Suddenly Pony was sitting upright in his bed, awoken by a loud scream, not even realizing it came from him. He was shaking violently, he had tears streaming down his face and blurring his vision, and his breaths were coming in short and fast. He could distantly hear Soda’s groggy voice, asking him if he was ok, but he couldn’t do anything but aggressively shake his head as he tried to force Johnny’s dead eyes out of his mind and he tried to ignore how he could still feel Johnny’s heavy and unmoving hand in his.

He felt Soda’s arms wrap around him but he could still barely register it. He knew Soda was whispering calming words but he could barely hear over the roaring in his ears. He didn’t know how long he went on like this, he just knew he was getting light headed from the lack of air, and he distantly realized that Soda was taking his arms off him and quickly rushing out of the room. Huh, that was strange, normally he stayed. Maybe he was just scared he’d die from being around Ponyboy, most people around him died sooner rather than later anyway, so it wouldn’t be surprising.

He hadn’t even noticed Soda return until he felt a larger and rougher hand on his shoulder and he watched someone kneel down in front of him. It was strange, this guy didn’t look like Soda. In fact, he almost looked like dad. But dad was gone? Maybe he was here to get Ponyboy, maybe Ponyboy was going too?

“Pony, baby, you gotta breathe, honey”

No, that wasn’t dad’s voice. It sounded kind of like Darrel? Ponyboy felt himself begin to sway, suddenly feeling very dizzy and even shakier than before.

“Soda, if this don’t stop soon we gotta take him to the hospital”

NO. NOT THE HOSPITAL ANYWHERE BUT THE HOSPITAL. That was what Pony’s mind screamed at him as he suddenly snapped his head to look at his oldest brother, immediately having a death grip on his brother’s hand as he shook his head even more intensely. He couldn’t make the words come out to explain just how much he couldn’t go to the hospital. Because the hospital was where Johnny died. It was where that sickeningly pristine white covered every surface. It was where he could still smell that sterile cleaner they used on everything. It was where he couldn’t go without picturing Johnny laying on that damn bed and dying.

“Hey, hey, we don’t gotta go but I need ya to breathe with me, okay?”

Pony tried to blink the remaining tears out of his eyes as he nodded. He felt Darrel move so his hand was over his oldest brother’s chest and he couldn’t feel the gentle rise and fall. He tried to time his with his brother and slowly, he started to breathe normally. He sniffled quietly, before speaking, cringing at the rawness of his voice, “‘m sorry for wakin’ yall and botherin’ ya, I know you got work early”. He felt Darrel’s gaze flicker with hurt before it was immediately replaced with a softness he didn’t even know his oldest brother could have. “You ain’t botherin’ us at all, baby. You just scared us somethin’ awful with how long you were like that”

Pony felt even more confusion fill him when he heard that, because it hadn’t been that long, had it? It felt to him like maybe 20 minutes? He’d had longer fits than that. Upon his confusion, he felt Soda’s eyes land on him, and as he reached out to wrap an arm around his brother, he softly said something that stunned Pony, “honey, you been like this for damn near three hours, I got Darrel after forty minutes, but you just wouldn’t calm down”.

When he looked between his brothers, he finally noticed the fear in both their eyes. They really were scared that they were losing him. Hell, he was scared he was losing himself.

“Do ya- do ya wanna talk about it?” Pony recognized this, it was what Soda did every time, he asked if Pony wanted to talk about his nightmare, about what got him so worked up. Usually it helped him, so he decided to give it a go. “It was Johnny ‘n the fire ‘n getting out ‘n-“ Pony stopped as he felt his breathing pick up pace again. He started curling in on himself until he felt Darrel’s hand on his knee, “hey, you don’t gotta talk about it if you ain’t ready”. Ponyboy nodded, feeling a hot and fresh tear slip down his cheek.

He felt guilt roll in his stomach. Guilt for the fire, guilt for scaring his brothers, guilt for everything. But even more than that he felt a hole in his heart, like he was missing part of himself. In a way, maybe he was. He missed him. He missed Johnny more than anything in the world. Maybe he always would. But his brothers understood. They were there for him. And that made him feel just a little closer to ok.

[f4dedtouch]

INTRODUCING….…DOLL!READER୨ৎ

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ loves pink everything. vinyl records. satin sheets. lip gloss. heels and stilettos. laughing at the wrong moments. her doberman. batting her lashes to get her way. fresh manicures. her friends. shopping. soft curls. bubble baths. teasing. sabrina carpenter. pink blush. silk robes. lace lingeries. heart shape anything. giggling with her girls. polaroid pictures. glaring at men. love songs. scented lotion. fashion. old hollywood. vintage cameras. concerts. being a girls girl.

୨ৎ doll!reader who is a pogue but moves like she was born for luxury. she is all soft giggles and high heels clicking, wrapped in silk and lace, with perfume that lingers in every room she walks into. her world is pink-tinted and sweet, but there is a sharpness to her that people never see coming.

୨ৎ doll!reader who caught rafe’s eye at the country club one night, sitting pretty across the room on a date with some random guy who was already boring her to death. she twirled her straw in her drink, feigning interest, while rafe watched, amused. she was too much for that guy, too pretty, too sharp, too untouchable.

୨ৎ doll!reader who has a sharp tongue she is not afraid to use when she needs to and a laugh that gets her out of trouble every time. she is the sweetest girl around until she does not want to be. she flirts like it is a game, plays hard to get just for fun, and never lets anyone think they have her figured out.

୨ৎ doll!reader who originally named her doberman chanel because, duh, she is a princess, and her dog deserved a name just as iconic. but after meeting rafe and hearing him rant about pogues, she started calling her country club just to get under his skin. she makes sure to call her a little too loud whenever he is around. “country club, come here!” she calls, all sweet and innocent, watching as rafe glares, jaw tight. but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away, and that just makes it even more fun. she also proudly tells people she named her dog after rafe cemron.

୨ৎ doll!reader who does not care about the whole pogue and kook bullshit, she is exactly where she is supposed to be, always. when kook girls try to remind her she is on their side of the island, she just flashes a perfectly forced pretty smile and drops a snarky comment before continuing on her way, unbothered, untouched. let them talk, she has better places to be.

୨ৎ doll!reader who does not even spare a glance at rafe cameron. in her eyes, he is just another spoiled pretty boy with too many crimes on his hands, nothing she has not seen before. no matter what he does, how many panty-dropping smirks he throws her way, she just walks right past him, completely unfazed. but that does not mean rafe will stop. he always gets what he wants, and this time, it is her.

୨ৎ doll!reader who is best friends with barry, his real best friend, always over at his place, hanging around while he handles whatever shady business he has going on. she never cared for the drugs, never touched that stuff (one more reason why she wouldn’t go for rafe) but that does not stop her from making herself at home. and if there is one thing she loves while she’s there, it is reminding rafe that barry is her best friend, not his. every chance she gets, she throws it in his face, all smug and teasing, just to watch rafe get annoyed.

୨ৎ doll!reader who always smells like pink sugar, vanilla cream, and fresh strawberries, cotton candy, sweet, dreamy, and effortlessly feminine.

DOLL!READER works……..coming soon .ᐟ

[takendruid]

This is the video! I saw it and was pretty interested. There are some things I just don’t agree with in the video, but the bit about concept-based vs gameplay-based games made me have my epiphany. I think the actual point comes from a take I massively disagree with, but yeah.

Massive Bleach spoilers ahead, but I haven’t been able to talk about this with anyone other than my friend because Bleach fans are boring asf people who don’t care about trauma and the effects of trauma and being killed like I do. Because I’m a Jason Todd fan. But I’m gonna go on a huge fucking ramble because… I need to talk about this and have someone listen to me.

I’m a huge mental health, trauma, and realistic trauma responses freak when it comes to characters. People acknowledging characters having PTSD makes me so happy, which is why I love the fandom around Jason so much. BECAUSE PEOPLE ACKNOWLEDGE HIS TRAUMA!!

One of my favourite characters in media is Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach, and I have heard not a single person even whisper about the fact that he blatantly has PTSD, or should at least be heavily affected by the shit he went through. Yes, he’s an anime protagonist so he can’t really have it for story reasons, but… HE VERY CLEARLY DOES HAVE IT! AND HE VERY CLEARLY HAS SURVIVOR’S GUILT!! This is why I love Evangelion so much.

Ichigo’s ENTIRE motivation for becoming a Soul Reaper (I’m a dub watcher) and wanting to help people is because his mother was killed protecting him. One of the reasons season 1 of Bleach is my favourite animated arc is because of how much it actually delves into the fact that Ichigo was severely affected by his mother’s passing. His entire personality, his entire person, his entire motivations and desires were fundamentally changed because of that one event when he was 9. It’s talked about so much in season 1 and I LOVE IT!!! Obviously it’s redundant to constantly bring it up over the rest of the series, but I’m certain Ichigo and Bleach are why I’m such a freak over this stuff.

BUT IT GETS EVEN BETTER!! Because in the final arc, he can’t get to his final level of power because the trauma of losing his mum IS STILL AFFECTING HIM! HE STILL HASN’T BEEN ABLE TO MOVE ON AND HEAL DESPITE EVERYTHING! Until his dad finally tells him what really happened, and it allows Ichigo to finally move on, heal, and accept that IT WASN’T HIS FAULT HIS MUM DIED!! AND THEN HE GETS HIS FINAL POWER UP!!!!! I love Ichigo so much, he’s an amazingly well-done and grounded protagonist.

It upsets me that people hate him as a protagonist, and say he’s unrelatable because he is extremely relatable (also I kin him a lot. I haven’t lost any parents per se, but I see myself in him). Those guys just want a loud, silly guy who isn’t scowling 24/7 and isn’t objectively the straight man the entire show. BUT THAT’S WHAT I LOVE. Like I’m sorry, we can’t have silly loud guys who are extremely goofy for all three of the Big 3, Goku will never be a Big 3 protagonist because he is the founding father of those three anime/manga.

Also Ichigo… in less than 12 hours, died TWICE in EXTREMELY TRAUMATIC WAYS to the SAME FUCKING GUY and then COMES BACK without ANY TIME TO MENTALLY PROCESS. I have been a Bleach and Ichigo fan for 13 years, and a Jason Todd fan for about 3 months. Jason didn’t need to teach me anything because I can use my own brain to realise that DYING IS TRAUMATIC. I need Ichigo with PTSD around dying. Please. For the love of god. He was 16. He acts and looks older than 16 so I think everyone forgets how young he actually fucking was, but he was killed twice at 16 within the span of 12 hours without any time to process because he had to continue fighting, and then go to the World of the Living to fight another even bigger threat; where he ends up watching his friends and comrades all get cut down and nearly killed, EVEN HIS OWN DAD AND MENTORS. And then he’s stuck fighting for 3 months to unlock a power that will LOSE HIM HIS POWERS THAT HE’S ONLY HAD FOR ABOUT 8 MONTHS.

Jason Todd 🤝 Ichigo Kurosaki: dying as a teenager, and also fighting bad guys, and isn’t really able to properly get therapy about it because what? The fuck? Do you mean? You died and came back?????

Only four people knows he has died, only two people know he has died TWICE.

But to go onto that second death. Holy fucking shit.

I have not seen a single person talk about how much this affected Ichigo mentally. No one. Not a single person.

It’s extremely clear it affected Ichigo in-universe, because he can’t use his hollow mask correctly after it, and he’s very clearly shaken up by it when he sees it with his own two eyes. And yeah, you could argue “well if it’s focused on in the story then there’s no need to talk about it otherwise” I THINK BATMAN FANS WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU. Because that’s just something I really like with Batman as a whole, and Batman fans. In-universe, and in fandom, people talk about Bruce’s trauma, Dick’s trauma, Jason’s trauma. The entire reason Bruce is Batman and Dick became Robin is because of the trauma of losing their parents. In Batman & Robin: Year One, Bruce literally says “as a trauma survivor” like?? This stuff is talked about frequently, and acknowledged. And I never see the same thing with manga…

Anyway, Ichigo doesn’t get time to process this. Maybe he does in the 18 months where he’s not a Shinigami, but he doesn’t get time to process it before losing his powers. Yes, he’s fighting in a time warp thing for 3 months when it’s actually 1 or 2 hours irl in-universe, so maybe he gets time to think about it during that… but he’s more focused on learning the final Getsuga Tensho to take down the ultimate evil bastard of the series at the time.

Again, sorry this rant is even longer. Can you tell I have been waiting to talk to someone about this? /lh

Gotham Knights is so fun when you don’t have a little bitch in your ear telling you it’s shit, and that Arkham Knight is better

[borathae]

Red Shirt | JJK x f.Reader

↳ Full Art

“Jungkook tries to sneak away after last night, unaware that you have been watching him all this time.”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Morning After!AU, Magic!AU, Smut

Warnings: nudity, messy bodies after messy sex, Kook is a fucking flirt & tease, she takes pictures of him, allusions to: rough & passionate sex, pegging, breeding with fake cum, vaginal sex, creampies, marking & bruises, naked cuddling

Wordcount: 1k

a/n: patreon stresses me out so much omfg 😭 BUT here is another lil short story to one of my art ohohoh ❤ if you want to support me on patreon, i will love you forever (my dream is to one day only live off my art & writing jdsfjj)

“Come back to bed“, you say, sitting up to trail your boyfriend with your eyes as the latter hurries through the room.

“You know I want to, but I can’t”, Jungkook tells you and scans his eyes over the floor in search for his briefs.

He woke up earlier than you. The sun had barely passed the distant mountains and you hugged him to your chest when he did.

It is a regular thing that Jungkook wakes up in your arms as your little spoon. Jungkook doesn’t need to hold something as he sleeps, while you do. He doesn’t mind when you roll over in your sleep and pull him against your chest. He liked it this morning especially.

You were rough last night. Jungkook wanted you to. The wet, creamy reminder of it still oozed out of Jungkook as he sat up after waking up. It seeped deep into your rose-coloured satin sheets, joining all the other stains you and he painted last night. The once purple and pink marks on Jungkook’s body healed over night, but Jungkook still remembers all the spots they covered. It tingles when he brushes his fingers over them.

Jungkook liked waking up as your little spoon this morning. He liked feeling your bared, silken skin against his equally as bared skin. He liked the tickling swirls of breath dancing over the nape of his neck and he liked the sensation of your soft cunt against his ass. You and he didn’t clean up last night because you are both into feeling the sex on your skins the morning after, so Jungkook woke up to your messy cunt pressed against his sticky ass.

Jungkook liked it and he would have stayed in your arms if he didn’t have responsibilities today.

“Why can’t you stay? It’s too early to leave”, you bargain, missing his touch. The worst part about mornings with him, is when he has to leave and you have to make do with the solitude which once he filled. Just as you filled him last night. And then he did you. Fuck, last night was so messy and passionate.

Jungkook bends down to pick up his briefs, “I promised Yoongi to help with the Rippers. I can’t let him down”, he argues and straightens up. His torn apart briefs hang on his pointer finger in messy shreds.

You eye them and press your legs together. It smears the mess all over your thighs.

“Really?” Jungkook says with a chuckle on his lips, “couldn’t you have gone easy on them?”

“No.”

“You’re unbelievable”, Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “Ever since you learned how to use your magic to get stronger, you’re a maniac”, he says with fondness in his voice. He discards the torn briefs on the floor and snatches his jeans. He steps into them and pulls them up, stuffing his cock into them.

“So this is your best solution? No underwear?” you ask, lifting your right brow in question.

“I’m already late and running back to my wing takes too much time”, Jungkook says and turns to hurry to where you discarded his red button up. It was right after you pushed him into your bedroom and told him that you will have him arching his back later, which turned out to be true.

You drop into the sheets with a loud sigh, rubbing your hand over your own forehead.

“You aren’t making it easier for me when you leave like this.”

“I know. It’s not my preferred way either, but I’m late.”

“You know that I wasn’t speaking of uncomfortable pants”, you say as you laugh breathily.

Jungkook chuckles, “I’m aware.”

You sit up again. The sun is shining into your bedroom, illuminating your boyfriend’s fit stature temptingly well. Bright spots of lights cover his chest and parts of his sculpted abs, dark shadows blend into the colours and hide his tattoos in slight mystery. His jeans are still open enough to reveal his shaft and parts of his balls to your eyes. His dark hair hangs messily, matching in colour with his thick bush. You reach for your film camera and snap a picture as Jungkook is putting on his shirt.

The latter lifts his head at the sound of the shutter, watching you lower the camera again.

“For me”, you say, giving Jungkook a playful grin.

Jungkook lets out a fond scoff and closes his shirt, “you’re too obsessed with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are”, Jungkook says and stuffs the shirt into his tight jeans.

“Even if I was, is that a problem?”

“Yeah, a little”, Jungkook says, closing the buttons of his jeans.

“Why?” you laugh as you ask the question.

“Because…” Jungkook closes the distance between you and him. He takes your face between his fingers and tilts your head up.

You moan softly, looking up at Jungkook with slight submission in your adoring eyes.

Jungkook traces your lips, “…it makes me wanna act up”, he rasps and kisses you.

You mewl, pulling him closer by a bundle of his red shirt. You arch your back, parting your lips so Jungkook could claim what will always be his’.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t deepen the kiss, breaking it with a gentle bite to your lower lip. It tingles.

“Kook…please…” you sigh, chasing him with an arch of your back and your thighs rubbing together.

“It’ll get late today. Try not to think of me too much”, Jungkook whispers and brushes his thumb over your parted lips. Seconds later he is gone, leaving you with nothing but stained sheets, ripped briefs and the memory of how it was to be buried in his willing ass.

[artsninspo]

007 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 006

♠ summary: Lorence navigates the high-stakes world of elite private security under her enigmatic boss, Terry Richmond. But when Terry’s watchful gaze turns unexpectedly intimate, the tension between them ignites—blurring the lines. This ones fluffy 🧸.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.2K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

I’ve never flown private before, nor have I ever been on such a lively flight. The champagne flows freely, and the chatter is so loud I crank my headphones to maximum volume just to drown it out. The last time I was aboard a plane, I was tossing back flutes of champagne to numb the sting of losing my job. Weeks later, I’m flying private at an elevated position—my new reality. Unlike my more seasoned colleagues, I’m more unnerved than excited.

I check the ETA on one of the screens and go over the expected hotel arrival time, counting down the hours until the big race is over and I can finally relax. I take out my tablet, reviewing my plans for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for any holes in my outline. I replay the live feeds at an accelerated speed, scanning for anything that could derail my emergency plans.

“Lorence.”

Cassandra smiles, placing a flute of champagne in front of me.

“Cassandra.”

She folds her arms, giving me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you're talking to someone handsome and not reviewing your plans again.”

“I’m talking to someone handsome,” I reply, telling her what she wants to hear. She sighs, satisfied.

“Emergencies almost never happen, and you’ve planned for so many types—it’ll be fine.”

“Well, partying isn't going to help my nerves,” I explain.

“You’re almost as bad as Terry.” She powers off my tablet and takes the open seat beside me.

“Now I’m insulted.”

She giggles, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Also, never suggest staggered flights for operatives again. Your extra effort is already making you unpopular with the weaker links.”

“Unpopular? As if I have the boss’s ear or give a flying fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudges me playfully. “It wasn’t the majority, but Emerson tried to stir up trouble. Richmond shut it down quickly. That weasel is always looking for a win. Must’ve heard there’s no warmth between you and Terry.”

“The blind know that.”

“Good thing my mouth isn't big. Cause that suit try-on definitely was more Dubai heat than Antarctica frigid.”

I give her a warning look, but she only squeaks, enjoying my discomfort.

“I’m glad you're amused.”

“Ladies.”

Emerson approaches with a drink in hand and that cavalier smile. He’s one of the company’s top ten most attractive male directors—probably the best-looking among the single ones.

“Emerson.” Cassandra acknowledges him, but his attention shifts to me.

“Lorence, why don’t you come mingle with the rest of us?”

I blink, caught off guard. The only colleague I’m on a first-name basis with is Cassandra. I’ve known Joel long enough to consider him more of a friend.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m fine here with my headphones and Gordon.”

“Cassandra didn’t tell you we use first names?”

“Not everyone. It’s Cole's choice.” Cassandra interjects quickly, sensing my discomfort. “Cole, what would you like to be called?”

“Cole.”

“Cole it is.” Emerson forces a smile. “You make your friends call you Cole?”

“I didn't realize the two of you were friends.” Cassandra leans in with a smirk.

“I’m friends with all of my colleagues.”

“Hmm.” Cassandra’s brow raises with condescension.

“Well, Cole, we’ll chat once we touchdown.” Emerson flashes another smile before returning to the back of the plane.

“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Emerson and I may or may not have had a few rendezvous. It also may have ended badly.” she shrugs.

I’m not surprised.

“How did it end badly - hypothetically?” I ask.

“I felt like he was trying to use me to get on Terry’s good side, and when that didn’t work, suddenly Terry and I were too close. Blah, blah, blah. I know how much he makes, and it is NOT enough to afford me full time. So I went cold. Hypothetically.”

Cassandra shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Don’t hmm me. We’re all gorgeous—you’re the only one who hasn't dipped in the office pot.”

We spend the rest of the flight gossiping about who’s been with who, and I’m astounded by the level of secrecy and professionalism. Five office flings had gone entirely under my radar. When the party dies down I turn back on my music and relax dozing off a little. I’ve memorized my routes down to the detail and the timing windows play in my subconscious in a loop. 

When the party dies down, I finally drift off, my subconscious looping the timing windows of my routes. Twenty minutes until clearance, an hour until our clients are safe. I wake with the sun warming the Mediterranean coastline below.

The weight of my responsibilities dampens any excitement. The drive to our accommodations is short, and I snap photos for my parents. The group dinner is the last thing I want to attend, but the chefs' live show and five-star cuisine prove to be a welcome distraction. Afterward, I slip away to the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

“Still going over the routes?” Richmond’s voice cuts through the night air. I know it’s him by the shift in energy.

“Yeah” I respond.

“If you don't trust yourself—and you should—you should trust the agents on the ground, the drivers, the armed agents, helicopters, and tech. And if you don't trust all that, there's still the local PD, Fire, EMS... and human nature. After that, it's an act of God, and none of us can contend with that.”

I exhale slowly.

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“When something goes wrong tomorrow, it won’t be because of you.”

“When?”

“When. It's inevitable.” His confidence is oddly reassuring, though I know better than to assign sentimentality to Richmond. “One of our clients could get wasted, fall over and break their nose, or have food poisoning, require medical attention or be robbed by hookers they’ve hired or local thieves. Something happens here every single year. Transport’s never been an issue and no one has approached it like you have” he says.

I nod, sighing deeply. “That’s some peace of mind.”

“It’s not flattery, it's the truth,” he responds.

“Has to be, flattery seems highly unlikely” I confess. “Maybe now I understand why you’re always so uptight - this is a lot on someone’s shoulders” I sigh looking back down into the city. I swear he snickers but by the time the lights flicker on above us signaling night is here it's gone from his expression.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about,” he says. Looking him over I concur - he’s probably experienced things my nightmares would have trouble conceiving of.

“So if it isn't stress then what is it? Just your natural disposition?” I ask looking away just in case his face shows disapproval.

“I can never tell if you're joking” he responds unappreciative of my sarcasm. The feeling is mutual, I can never read him either. There are too many things at play, this sizzling tension between us born of disdain, or misunderstanding, or the unbalanced power dynamic. His resistance to letting his guard down. Smiling, small talk, pleasantries or being kind. The silence lingers mostly because none of my responses are safe and could put us back at odds. “I’m not uptight,” he says finally.

“Pigs fly. Now we’re both lying” I remark.

“I’m not uptight, I’m what my position requires of me as the lead, founder and CEO” he explains. 

“Look, I'd better get some rest. I'm a mess of nerves and we already don’t get along well” I sigh, not wanting to get into it with him. He smirks this time.

“You’ll toss and turn all night if you head in now. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me in the lobby in ten?” he says, stopping me in my tracks. He looks harmless when he smiles. It withdraws into his usual disposition and when I turn Emerson is walking up behind me.

“Ok” I agree and he nods giving me a half smile that I know Emerson sees. I wonder if it’s to get my blood out of shark infested waters.

“Emerson” I nod, taking leave. I slip my heels back on once I'm off of the grassy terrace and head in. There’s a sprinkling of people, less than half of those who were at dinner. I head to my room and look myself over. I curse Cassandra when all of the outfits I have packed are transitional, appropriate for the beach, boat, dinner and anything else that may arise in a place like this. Blowing out a deep breath I opt for a black maxi dress. I grab a small purse and fill it with necessities. My reflection is date worthy, not following your boss around appropriate. I tie a scarf around my purse just in case it gets cool. When I arrive in the lobby Richmond is checking his watch and stands up like I've stood him up. He’s changed too into something more relaxed. 

“Sorry I’m late” I tell him once I've crossed the room. His eyes scan over me, his tense demeanour has returned.  “Am I dressed okay?” I ask.

“Fine” he nods. “I just thought we’d take a walk, go over your routes in person, put your mind at ease, tire the body, help you rest” he explains and it is such a simple approach I wonder why I haven't thought of it.

“I can walk in this” I nod and he leads the way. We walk alongside each other. It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the primary route we decided on. “Cassandra said, always look better than you need to while in Monaco” I tell him when the silence has stretched too long.

“That’s what that bill was about” he mutters to himself shaking his head. “I dont think you and Cassandra have the same objectives”

“I don't follow”

“Cassandra likes causing a stir and hooking big fish” he says without condescension or condemnation in his tone as we walk. “Wherever we go” he adds, making a left. I see he’s memorized the route as well as I have.

“I bet she’s a great decoy” I think out loud.

“She is,” he nods, leading us onto the main road. It’s brighter along this path, I smell food and hear music and chatter which is a good sign. We pass souvenir shops, restaurants, boutiques and tourists. There’s so much to see, it's distracting and I don't remember the last time I was in Europe so carefree. I take pictures of postcards and restaurants and send them to my parents. My mom will tell me what to try and my dad will tell me what cheesy thing they want.

“So, are you and your parents very close?” Richmond asks and I realize he has a birds eye view into my phone and no boundaries.

“Yeah” I nod. “They love to travel and my mom runs a food blog” I explain my actions.

“I’ve seen the food blog - she’s very good,” he remarks. Of course he has.

“She’d be happy to hear that” I say with a smile.

“How’d she get into it?” he asks.

“She had an empty nest, she put everything on hold to be a mom and wife. She retired early and I told her to go. It was like we both went to college together. She’s always been great but since it started she’s really happy.” I reflect feeling calmer at the thought of my folks. 

“We have contacts and so many unused vouchers, tickets, everything. You should ask Cassandra and use them up. Go with them too.” he says giving unconventional advice for a boss.

“Are your parents still around?” I ask and he tenses.

“My mom passed. Pops is still around. He’s married to Cassandra’s mom” Richmond says and it's a shock at first then it makes sense. “I was sure she told you.”

“She didn’t and I’m sorry about your mom” I respond he nods.

“It  was a long time ago,” he says. We approach a live band and he guides me in front of him. “Hold your purse close, it's a distraction for pickpockets” he explains, keeping me close until we’re out the crowd. We’re lower down now and closer to the water at one of the intersections I thought would have the most trouble. I assess it quickly before relaxing into my decisions.

“So is this what you recommend before a big gig?” I ask.

“No, I don't advise you to walk around at night in a foreign country,” he says.

“Now it's you who needs faith. We go through too much training to not be fine anywhere in the world that isn't war torn.” I remind him crossing the road. 

“If the richest men in the world need protection, what makes you think you're above danger?” he asks.

“I don’t think I’m above anything, I just dont think danger is likely.”

“You’re naive,” he comments.

“You're a pessimist” I respond.

“Realist. Men jeopardise their livelihoods and lives all around the world for women and sometimes men. Being alone at night is an unnecessary risk” he says, sounding like my father. When we make it to the beach the sound of the ocean is calming.

“Can we stay awhile?” I ask and he nods. I step onto the sand. My dress is too long so I take down my hair and use my hair tie to hike it up to my knees. There’s a breeze in the air but after all that walking it's not too chilly. My nerves are worlds better. I find a spot and sit down, feeling safe. I close my eyes and block out everything aside from the sound of the waves crashing and crackling sea foam. The air shifts and I catch Richmonds cologne as he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine closed. He probably thinks I’m crazy, maybe even too trusting given our history but I don't open my eyes until I'm ready. When I do his eyes are on me.

“Jameson told me you dont value your life” he says and I scoff.

“You can't care too much about yours if you joined the military” I shoot back.

“My father was decorated, he had me in mixed martial arts since I was five. I can take care of myself”

“So we have daddy to thank for this personality” I jest and he shakes his head instead of silencing me with a look.

“You really don't like it” he says, looking up at the sky.

“No I don’t, this is the most normal you’ve ever been with me since we met” I tell him.

“I’ve tried but you’re always running”

“Why were you so mean that first day?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” he says, hardening.

“More complicated than using my trauma as a test?” I ask and he sighs.

“That wasn't my idea to push you and yes, that complicated” he affirms. “I was in a bad state, looked my worst and I found out my new recruit Lorence Cole is a woman,” he explains. 

“That’s a sexist admission”

“No. You’re my type Lorence. Cassandra knew that and didn’t tell me ahead of time. I was upset with her to make a point and short with you” he confesses and the way my cheeks burn im thankful for the nights forgiving lighting. Not was, not one of my preferences, you’re present tense my type.

“The next time your type walks in, try being kind. Most women don't like being barked at, frowned at, scolded. Do I need to continue?” I ask.

“I get the picture” he nods. Then there’s laughter down the beach and I see people laughing around a photograph.

“We should go see” I suggest getting up. I pat the sand off my dress and we make our way over to see caricature artists seated. 

“Come on, beautiful couple,” One of the women artists say.

“I don't want to” Richmond says motioning for me to sit alone.

“Not my boyfriend's bodyguard” I tell the woman in french and she smiles. Mischief lights in her eyes and I smile bracing for the worst.

“First time in Monaco?” she asks with a thick accent.

“Yes”

“Welcome! here for the races?” she asks.

“Yeah, a few friends wanted to check it out” I explain using my cover story and she continues drawing.

“Are you famous?” she asks.

“No” I laugh.

“Then why bodyguard?” she asks.

“He’s a friend who didn't want me out walking alone” I explain in french and she nods complimenting my speaking ability. I sit for another ten minutes and she stands finished. They count me down and when I get the photo I have to stop myself from laughing. I fold the photo immediately as the other artists cackle and pray Richmond hasn't seen it. If he didn't speak French too I’m sure he’d think I put her up to it. We leave the beach heading back on the path back to the accommodation when Richmond snatches it from my hand as I let my dress back down. He gets a full look of the photo of me looking like an angel in caricature form while he looks like an angry muscle man with ears so big they span to the margins. I giggle and he gives me a look of warning handing the drawing back. I’m surprised he doesn't rip it into pieces.

“Aside from the ears it's an accurate depiction of how scary your scowl is” I joke.

“Good to know” he mutters, the streets are more lively now and the party crowds are out. Leading the way gets too challenging. Richmond holds his hand back and I take it following him through the crows he can see over. He's a gentle guide parting the crowd for me with his size. My brain starts to run away with the information I’ve learned aided by the hand holding and a replay of the past few weeks. My realization shouldn't be as charming as it is. Richmond the decorated veteran and impeccably polished CEO has a crush … on me? He’s not to be played with, tall, handsome, well off ….. My boss. My thoughts hit a roadblock there. The uphill trek starts to become a battle and he crosses the street finding a cab stand. His French is impeccable as he orders us a cab barely fitting in the small European car with me. I get my hand back and find myself missing the contact. The ride back to the accommodation is short. When RIchmond and I clear the lobby he’s right I’m no longer worried about tomorrow or my work. This elevator ride is far less tense than last trip. 

“Thanks for walking me through my route” I tell him as he walks me from the elevator to my door. 

“No problem” he nods. “Last call is at noon if you want to see the parade and the royals otherwise you can leave at two” he reminds me of the schedule. I check my watch and see I have a lot of beauty rest to catch up on.

“Sounds good.” I nod heading in my room. I stop turning to face him. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow? My type is nice” I tell him and he gives me his first genuine smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cole” 

“Good night Richmond.” I smile, shutting the door. I call Sin thankful for time differences and we talk for an hour about what it all means before I fall asleep.

Authors note: thanks for reading loves. things are heading up and these interactions are getting more and more fun to write. Are we here for the new developments?

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