#local little guy gets a warm drink

[ashclouds366]

little dude finally gets a break @p3roxid3city

[lokissweater]

i know your name ✭

{gojo satoru x f!reader}

summary: gojo satoru was practically everyone’s god as his shiny charming reputation has followed him ever since high school and through college— his band he had with his best friend suguru packing the local college pub every night just to see him sing and play the bass. unbeknownst to you, satoru has been keeping an eye on you, and when you officially meet him right before one of his shows, satoru just about falls to his knees over you.

warnings: MDNI. college au, CAR SMUT be patient!!, fingering, squirting, a bit of oral hehe, cursing, angst, FLUFFF, FILTHY DIRTY TALK, a sprinkle of degradation, tinyyy mentions of alcohol and drinking, gojo is obsessed with reader, afab!reader, jealousy.

word count: 8.8k

authors note: oh my goodness this one took me a FAT MINUTE but it’s SO SO CUTE and i hope you all think so too!! thank you thank you for all of your notes on my works!! MWAHH.

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“please come with me to the alley, i don’t think i can handle one moron and an even bigger moron by myself.”

shoko shimmied her jacket onto her shoulders, a disgruntled and pleading look on her face as she turned to face you. “they’re only playing a few songs, and you don’t have to drink!”

you laughed softly. “who’s they?”

“suguru and satoru, they’re playing at the alley.”

“gojo satoru?”

the cogs in your brain spun as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, a bit apprehensive. the alley was the place everyone went to at your college to get drunk and laid, and it also happened to be the place where the two boys played their band almost every night— satoru mainly having connections with the owner of the bar to even allow a bunch of college kids to trash the place to begin with.

you didn’t necessarily know satoru, but in your years of observing him back in high school, you knew he was viewed by anyone and everyone as a god, his reputation shiny and impressive as he had the greatest charisma and charm you had ever seen.

you remember back to when basically every other day he was getting confessed to in the halls or in class— or after school… or literally anywhere now that you thought about it.

but satoru has never been prideful or rude, even though it was something that was supposed to be written for him being the most popular guy— but he just simply didn’t follow it.

satoru was kind. really kind. and even though he got millions of confessions per year, he treated each rejection with gentleness and respect, never turning a cold eye to anyone as he apologized profusely and tried to help them feel better.

he always volunteered to do your class banners and plan your school’s activities, festivals, and field trips so nobody else had the burden of missing out on the fun. he always helped out the gardener after school and watered the plants with them (soon after practically taking over the entire shift for free and telling them to relax on a bench), tutored his friends and peers when they asked him for help, and made anyone that felt left out feel included.

that’s why he was so popular. gojo satoru was a ray of sunshine with bright blue eyes and white ruffly hair, with a gorgeous face that you never saw without a smile— loud and obnoxious and a little clumsy, but kind.

“i still don’t know why they started a band.. but they get pretty big tips every night so i guess that’s why,” shoko muttered, sipping the last of her iced tea as she got up from her seat— the cafe you were both sitting in quiet and warm as you copied her actions and stood. “or could be because satoru likes the attention.”

you weren’t close with suguru or satoru like shoko was, and you’ve never even properly met them either, but you always listened to her whenever she’d complain and understood her completely nonetheless.

you laughed at her last comment and smiled. “i’ll go… but i can only stay for two songs! i have class at seven am tomorrow.”

she smiled wide and threw her arms around you, “thank you thank you thank you!”

you’ve never actually been to the alley before, only having heard about it through the grapevine and from your other classmates that went, parties and concerts and drinking never really on the schedule for you. you honestly loved parties and concerts, and you loved the idea of hanging out with people and doing whatever your hearts desired until the sun came up.

but ever since you started college, your high school group kind of disappeared, and now you only really have one true best friend that you preferred over anything else, that being shoko. your nights are usually always calm and filled with studying or self care, your little life quiet and independent as you navigated through the days on your own.

and although you were a bit lonely at times, yearning for another soul to share your nights with, you learned to enjoy your own company.

the alley was a couple of blocks down from the cafe you and shoko were originally at, your ears already picking up on the vibrations of guitars and drums from outside as she approached the bouncer at the front, not even being able to get a word in before the big man was already telling her no.

“no?!” shoko dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “i was literally here last week, i’m friends with the band that’s playing.”

“sorry we’re at max capacity—”

“it’s okay, they both can come in. they’re on stage with us.”

your eyes snapped to the door and you recognized geto suguru, his long jet black hair cascading down to his shoulders as he sported an all black outfit— politely smiling at the bouncer.

the man moved to the side and ushered us in, shoko’s shoulders dropping in relief as you both walked in and over to a table by the stage. “thank you suguru.”

he nodded. “if i don’t, satoru will throw another fit again and say you don’t love him if you don’t show up.”

shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “you see what i mean?”

“shoko!” a loud, booming and enthusiastic voice rang through the pub as you turned, spotting none other than satoru with his long arms open, more or less throwing himself on her. “you came!”

“you threatened me—”

“i did no such thing!” he sprung back. “are you not here out of the goodness of your heart? to support your two best boys living their dreams?”

“no.”

“shokooo!” he whined and you giggled, which caused him to snap his head in your direction, finally noticing your presence.

her.

“oh! hello,” he smiled kindly to you and extended his hand. “i’m satoru, and you are?”

“y/n!” you grinned sweetly and politely to him, taking his cold hand in yours and shaking it.

“are you a friend of shoko’s?”

you nodded.

he cocked his head to the side, “how come i’ve never seen you around?”

“oh i don’t go out too often, that’s probably why,” you laughed lightly, a little embarrassed by your answer.

he beamed anyways, his smile so big and brilliant that you were starting to see for yourself exactly why everyone loved him so much, not that you didn’t already know the reason behind it in the first place.

“me neither!”

satoru was still holding your hand.

“yes you do!” shoko scoffed. “you’re barely ever at your apartment and i always have to be your designated driver—”

he gawked, glaring at her. “that’s not true! i was home yesterday!”

“because you were hungover.” suguru mumbled.

you laughed again, and satoru turned back to face you, a grin on his face.

just then, a rather large group of guys started making their way towards your area, all beckoning and calling for satoru while holding up several shot glasses, his head snapping towards their direction and flashing a dazzling smile.

“satoru come!”

“satoru take some with us!”

he gently let go of your hand and raised his, waving high as he readjusted his black round sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “give me a second! i’ll be over!”

satoru turned back to you, resuming the conversation.

“sorry, she lies. she likes to lie. i’m glad i didn’t go to high school with her.”

“yes we did— i’m going over to your followers and stealing a shot, goodbye.” shoko grumbled, throwing her purse on the table and walking away, dragging suguru along with her.

“we actually um..” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “we went to high school together.”

“oh i know.”

your eyebrows pinched together.

he knows?

“you used to water the garden on days i couldn’t afterschool, right?”

your eyes widened a little.

“oh! and you used to fix the class banners whenever i didn’t notice my fuck up, which was always.” he patted the top of your head and laughed, “thank you for that by the way.”

“you knew?” you murmured, a rosy tint to your cheeks.

“duh,” his eyes softened. “i’m sorry i never thanked you properly then.”

you shook your head dumbly, a little spaced out as you took in what he said. “no it’s okay.”

your eyes then fell to the instruments and band set up behind him, suddenly remembering that he was performing tonight.

“so what do you guys play?” you spoke up gently, hands wringing behind your back. “do you play original songs? or covers?”

“covers! 80’s covers.” he explained excitedly. “suguru and i switch off singing. i play the bass and he plays the guitar, and we have a couple of extra friends in the back playing the drums and keyboard.”

your eyes sparkled as you watched the stage set up process, black chords scattered everywhere on the ground in disarray as several individuals on the platform tuned their instruments or plucked out a few notes.

“80’s?” you perked up. “what kind of 80’s?”

“what kind?”

“yeah! morissey? the cure? new order—”

satoru was awestruck, mouth slightly parted. “you know who they are?”

you quickly nodded, a cute smile on your face.

“you like the cure?” he asked quietly.

“i love the cure.”

satoru practically had hearts in his eyes as he beamed down at you with a stupid face, his heart a little frazzled with a familiar feeling sparkling in his chest.

“satoru!”

he snapped out of his trance and spun around, suguru on stage beckoning him over. “sorry, we have to start.”

“okay!” he walked backwards as he quickly faced you again and smiled, a little frantic. “i’ll talk to you after we play! i’m gonna quiz you on it so pay attention!”

you laughed, your hand covering your mouth a bit as you nodded. “is it counting towards my grade? or is it extra credit?”

“extra credit if you go on a date with me after the show!”

you stopped.

“she can’t! moron,” shoko suddenly appeared beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “she’s only staying for two songs!”

gojo’s jaw dropped slack, his shoulders slumping as he got up on stage, arms out. “two?!”

you grimaced, an apologetic look on your face and kind of feeling like a lame grandma as you nodded, “i have class at seven am tomorrow!”

before he could even respond, satoru got pulled by tech crew to test out his microphone, and you and shoko gradually settled yourselves on the high bar stool chairs at your table.

“odd,” she muttered with a funny look on her face.

“hm? what is?” your eyes switched to hers.

“satoru’s never asked a girl out before.”

your eyes bulged open. “never?”

“never.” shoko sipped a little at her beer and gave you a comforting smile. “i’ve always seen girls try it with him and ask him out or simply just follow him around like a lost dog, but he’s never gone after anyone.”

you watched a little smirk spread across her face, and your hands grew a tiny bit sweaty as you swallowed thickly.

“if you’re interested in him, there’s a line. but i think you have a head start.”

the music started— suguru introducing himself, satoru, and the band calm and pleasantly before they began playing their first song. it was loud and rhythmic, vibrations murmuring through the floor as your glass of water shook on the table with every note.

they weren’t bad at all— they were actually pretty good, really good, and you found yourself not really wanting to admit it since it seemed like satoru was good at a million different things regardless of category or genre.

“do they have a name for their band?!” you yelled over the music, leaning your frame a little closer to her without taking your eyes off of the stage.

shoko snorted, “the strongest monkeys.”

you threw your head back and laughed loudly, looking at her incredulously. “really?!”

as he performed on stage, satoru noticed you laugh and he smiled against the microphone, a vision he connected back to high school, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he was internally a little unsteady as your pretty eyes watched him play and sing— feeling embarrassed whenever he would trip over a chord clumsily like he seemed to do at every freaking show, but feeling better seeing as it made you giggle.

by the end of their second song, you showed shoko the time on your phone and tried to stand as discretely as possible in attempts at not disturbing anyone around you, grabbing your purse from the arm of your chair and swinging it over your shoulder.

but when you looked up, satoru was already looking at you as suguru spoke through the microphone, his eyes wide and pleading as he held up his index finger.

“one more song!” he mouthed. “please.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip anxiously, your eyes darting around the pub and back to the time on your phone before they landed again on satoru.

“stay.” he mouthed again.

and for reasons you couldn’t explain, your body pulled you back down on the stool and you sat— shoko quirking an eyebrow at you in confusion.

satoru’s face broke out into the brightest smile, a smile equivalent to the blinding rays of the sun as he pushed up his round sunglasses and gave you a cute thumbs up.

“thank you.”

and your heart stuttered.

you eventually decided to stay for the rest of the show, seeing as it was already late as fuck anyways— and they played few more songs then, a mix of well known 80’s songs as well as a few underrated ones, your head nodding gently to the beat and swaying your little shoulders. in the midst of it, satoru had been watching and glancing in your direction so many times throughout the show, that he subconsciously started mimicking your little shoulder sway on stage as he performed.

college girls screamed practically every five minutes when the boys did anything, some even going as far as running up the platform and reaching up for satoru’s hands or ankles as he played, him smiling bright at each and every one of them with shoko shaking her head in disappointment— her forehead falling to the palm of her hand as you laughed.

ironically by the end of it, the band closed with the cure, and as the crowd dispersed and several took their leave from the alley— some shouting words of praise at the boys, you and shoko stood and walked over to the stage. satoru in a heartbeat noticed you coming over and hooked his mic quickly back on the mic stand, tossing the strap of his bass over his shoulders and setting it down before hopping off stage.

“did you like it?” he panted hopefully, trying to catch his breath as his forehead glistened with sweat, his hands on his hips.

you smiled gently. “i did! good job, you both played really great songs.”

suguru gave you a small smile in gratitude from the platform as he unplugged and untangled a few chords— and satoru beamed, nodding. “i’m glad! okay, here comes your quiz!”

“oh god.”

“we played the cure at the end…” satoru dragged out.

“mhm…”

“what song?” he tilted his head to the side, and your cheeks went pink as you grinned.

“pictures of you,” you replied softly. “it’s my favorite one.”

satoru’s forehead fell to rest against your shoulder, and your eyes widened in surprise.

“i would expect nothing less from you, y/n.”

you hummed out a laugh, and his heart did a tiny somersault at the sound before he picked his head back up and looked at you softly.

“thank you for staying.”

shoko bounded over to you then and looped her arm through yours. “ready to go?”

you nodded quickly before smiling sweetly at satoru. “i’ll see you around! thank you for—”

“wait!” he shot his arms out frantically with wide eyes. “what about our date?”

you froze. “our date?”

“unless you want the quiz to count towards your grade…” he mumbled lowly, eyes darting on everything and everywhere except you with pinky cheeks.

“i didn’t think you were being serious about that..” you spoke gently.

his eyebrows furrowed. “why not?”

“because you’re gojo satoru,” shoko butt in.

you quickly flicked her forehead— your lips pressed into a thin line, earning a little laugh from satoru as you turned your head to look at him again.

“i have an early class tomorrow… ill see you around though, okay?”

without thinking, satoru reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you to face him.

“let me take you to class.”

shoko and suguru exchanged a look and your lips parted, eyebrows pinching together.

“what?”

“i’ll take you to class in the morning,” he looked desperate. “and i won’t count the quiz towards your grade.”

you were skeptical, very skeptical, unsure of what satoru wanted from you in this situation. you had just met him, properly at least, and though you knew he was a good person, you weren’t sure if that was still relevant in the field of picking up girls.

you looked to shoko, who shrugged, and your eyes landed back to satoru’s pleading one’s, your entire body and soul hesitating.

“i—” you gnawed at your bottom lip, a nervous habit as you took in the way he looked like a sad little puppy the longer you took to respond, your heart not having the ability to ever say no to anyone, ever. not even him.

“okay.”

his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a puff of relieved air as he gave you the biggest smile, nodding hopefully.

“okay! h—here-” he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. “if i could— if i could have your number? and i’ll text you when im on my way and stuff…”

you shakily took satoru’s phone, the screen already opened up to the ‘add contact’ feature as you typed in your number before passing it back to him.

“thank you!” he beamed. “i’ll see you tomorrow then?”

he was so excited, and you really didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but give him a sweet smile of yours in return, nodding.

“see you.”

when you finally arrived home that night, it didn’t take satoru even ten minutes after that to text you.

(unknown): i have good news for you miss y/n

you stared at your phone, your heart jumping a bit as you typed back a response.

(you): and i have bad news for you satoru

(satoru): WHAT

(satoru): ok wait me first

(satoru): congrats you passed my class!! that quiz bumped up your grade from 0% to 100% ur so smart

(satoru): but if your bad news is you rejecting me i’m FAILING you

(you): HAHAHAHA

(you): silly silly

(you): my bad news was that i always have banana milk on my way to school in the mornings and unfortunately i don’t have any extra for you :(

(you): i ran out ;(

within the two minutes that it took for you to respond with your declared bad news, satoru was absolutely shitting it, wholeheartedly believing you were going to reject him and leave him to dramatically rot away all alone.

he replied quickly, a goofy smile on his face.

(satoru): that’s literally the only reason why i asked you out :(

(you): and how do you know i have banana milk in the mornings before school?

(satoru): OH

(satoru): SO ABOUT TOMORROW

you giggled, wiping the last of your makeup off and turning off your vanity light before jumping into bed, snuggling into your covers as the cool air softly touched your face from your open window.

(you): *address*

(you): pick me up at 6:30 please, if that’s okay :)

(satoru): i’ll pick you up at six miss y/n

(you): SIX WHY

(satoru): for a breakfast date silly!! okay goodnight xoxo

you hadn’t even realized the huge stupid smile on your face until your rosy cheeks started to ache.

(you): HAHAHA

(you): goodnight <3

a heart?!

satoru stuffed his face into his pillow, feeling like little love birdies were flying around his head and pecking at his hair.

the following morning, you ran your fingers through your hair and probably fixed your outfit a million trillion times before you were satisfied, a huge lump in your throat as you gnawed so much at your bottom lip that it drew blood.

you were nervous, but why? you didn’t know why. maybe because it was gojo satoru picking you up. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had a guy try to hit on you in what felt like a decade, the last time really being the last day of high school when you randomly found a note in your locker, the words literally illegible.

maybe it was the fact that satoru was the most handsome man you have ever seen.

but so was he to everybody else.

(satoru): i’m outside! :]

you wiped your clammy hands on your legs and stood, hiking your school bag further up your shoulder before walking down the stairs and out the door, seeing satoru seated in his car in your driveway.

you timidly opened the door to the passenger side and stepped in.

“hi!” he greeted cheerfully and proceeded to place his hand on the back of your headrest as he backed out, looking through his rear view mirror.

“hi!” you said gently. “you’re not tired?”

“nuh uh,” he smiled at you. “i had three energy drinks before i got you.”

your head instantly whipped in his direction. “satoru— three?!”

he giggled at your reaction, the sides of his blue eyes crinkling as he patted your head. “don’t worry silly, i’ve had maybe five at a time before—”

“five?!”

you slumped against the passenger seat and closed your eyes. “satoru, you’re gonna develop heart problems if you keep this up.”

“nah,” he reached into the backseat, his eyes still on the road. “i’m the strongest.”

and you snorted then, watching him retrieve two small bottles of juice from the back without taking his eyes off of the road.

“i got us orange juice— wait do you like orange juice? oh fuck maybe—”

you giggled and waved him off, taking both bottles from his hands. “it’s okay! i do like orange juice, thank you.” you settled them on your lap neatly. “i’ll hold them while you drive.”

“aww thanks sweets,” he murmured affectionately, and your face instantly went warm to the touch.

“i also got us breakfast bagels so we can sit and people watch before your class—” his eyes snapped to yours. “if— if that’s okay.”

your heart skipped a beat at his planning, nodding as you reached into your school bag and pulled out a little yellow carton, holding it out for him as he drove.

satoru tore his gaze away from the road momentarily and looked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“your daily morning banana milk?”

you smiled softly, nudging it towards him. “for you.”

he physically melted as he looked at your sweet sweet face and back towards the road.

“you’re giving up your banana milk— for me?”

you tore off the straw from the back of the milk box, sticking it through the little opening and offering it to him again.

“yup yup.”

he bit his lower lip as he gratefully took the milk box from you, giddy and flustered on the inside as he took tiny sips.

“an absolute delicacy, thank you miss y/n.”

before you even realized it, satoru was already pulling in to the campus parking lot, shifting his gear into park and turning off the ignition before opening his door.

“don’t move!” he sputtered suddenly. “don’t touch that door hold on—”

he slammed his door shut and you watched quizzically as he ran across the front of the car and opened the door for you, flashing an award winning smile that could shatter the earth if he wanted to.

you still couldn’t piece together why he was doing so much for you or why he was interested in the first place, but as you watched him set up the breakfast bagels cutely as you both sat on the bench, him carefully handing you yours along with your orange juice, you didn’t really have the heart to ask him why.

maybe it was the more selfish side of you, the one that always longed to share little moments like this with another being, the one that always spent her days alone watching movies or doing little crafts in her room to keep the time going, a bittersweet feeling in your chest every time you saw your classmates or casual friends post about their parties or outings.

you hadn’t realized that you didn’t respond to whatever satoru had said, and you snapped out of it.

“fuck— i’m sorry satoru, i spaced out.” you laughed softly. “what were you saying?”

he stared at you, his eyes examining your face. “what’s wrong?”

“huh?”

“what were you thinking about?”

“it was— it was nothing,” you took a sip of your orange juice. “i forgot.”

satoru shoved his face close to yours, your breath hitching and your cheeks growing pink as you watched his eyes scan every part of you, his expression concerned.

“something’s bothering you,” he hummed. “am i being too forward? i’m— i’m sorry sometimes i don’t even realize—“

“no!” you shot your arms out frantically and placed them on his shoulders, “no, it’s not that, you’re okay satoru. everything you’ve done has been really nice, so thank you.”

your voice was so sweet as you spoke to him, and even though it made him feel better to some degree, he still couldn’t shake the empty and sad look he saw on your face when you were spaced out.

he slowly retreated back and hesitantly nodded as you placed your hands back on your lap, your fingers then tearing a piece from your breakfast bagel and plopping it into your mouth.

“did you ever find…” he spoke in between bites. “a note in your locker the last day of high school?”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “how do you know about that?”

he swallowed, a sheepish look on his face. “that was me. i put that note in.”

your eyes widened as your body completely froze over, putting your bagel down— the wrapper crinkling underneath as you did so.

“really?”

satoru nodded, his flushed cheeks prominent on his pale skin as he suddenly found his bagel super interesting to look at.

“what did it say?”

he looked at you baffled. “what did it say? what do you mean?”

you giggled then, your hand covering your mouth as you leaned forward a little bit. “i could— i could barely read it. the handwriting-“

“oh my fucking god!” satoru threw his arms up in despair. “that explains so much. i was so sad i straight up thought you hated me.”

you stopped. “what do you mean?”

“i wrote my name and how i thought you were really pretty, and then i wrote my number at the bottom.” he dropped his shaking head in his hands, laughing. “but i wrote it really fast because i saw you coming so i just stuffed it in there.”

he slumped over his legs on the bench, his elbows on his knees as he moaned.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked softly.

he turned his head to the side as he was hunched over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he smiled gently. “very.”

gojo satoru thought you were pretty.

you smiled cutely at him, reaching out and pushing his sunglasses back up his eyes, yours warm and endearing. “silly.”

you leaned back on the bench and giggled. “to be fair satoru, even if i was able to read your note, i probably would’ve thought it was a prank.”

“a prank? why?” his shoulders deflated, an unamused look on his face. “because i’m ‘gojo satoru’ like shoko said—”

“no,” you pushed. “because you’re a good person. you always go above and beyond for others and i’ve seen that as long as i’ve known you.”

you crossed a leg over the other and smiled softly. “and because of that i’m really not sure why you like me satoru, i haven’t really done anything special but—”

“what you just said is a crime. the way you think about me is the way i think about you.” he cut in, eyes serious. “you think you don’t do anything special? i literally watched you all through high school bend over backwards for people, for me, like i did,“ he sighed through his nose. “but your intentions were genuine and pure, mine were not.”

he finished the last of his bagel and crumpled up the wrapper into a ball, tossing it in the trash can next to him as he leaned back.

satoru swallowed. “i feel like if i don’t do the things that i do for people, ill end up disappointing everyone i know. i feel like everyone’s built this image of me that i don’t even know where the fuck it came from—” he shook his head. “but i don’t want to tarnish that. i don’t want to let people down. so i just let them ask me for stuff. i don’t even like going out that much either, believe it or not. i just go when they call.”

he crossed his arms. “whenever people do do something in return for me, it’s like i’m forever in their debt and they’re always expecting something from me back.”

your sad eyes softened, the confession in front of you a reaction from him you realized must’ve been buried deep deep down his chest— without any prior chance of resurfacing until this very moment.

you never thought about his situation this way. you would’ve never thought that satoru could’ve felt like this about his own reputation, something you guiltily believed was a thing he was absolutely floored over.

“you never expected anything back from me though,” he murmured. “you fixed my fucked up banners and switched around reservations when i absentmindedly chose the wrong thing for our school field trips, and you never said a word about it to me or anyone, and you didn’t expect anything back.”

he finally turned his bright blue eyes in your direction, and looked at you so deeply, so sincerely, that your mind went completely blank.

“that’s why i like you,” satoru bashfully scratched his cheek. “you do special things everyday and— and i was moved.”

there was a moment of silence, satoru staring at the ground as you stared at him, a delicate and insecure side of him unfolding before you that you don’t think anyone has ever seen, and you intended to keep it that way— wanting this special moment selfishly just for you.

you slowly leaned forward then as you made him look at you.

“its natural for you to be upset and think indifferently about people walking all over you, toru. it doesn’t mean you’re not genuine or pure.”

raising your arm, you poked his pink cheek gently and gave him a little comforting smile. “it actually only further solidifies to me how much of a good person you are. because even though people take advantage of your kindness, you help them with what they need regardless, and do way more.”

his eyes softened.

“at the end of the day, even though it makes you a little mad, you want to help people, because if you didn’t, you simply wouldn’t do it.”

you nudged his shoulder playfully with yours, “but not anymore, okay? from now on when people are blatantly taking advantage of how nice you are, you have to draw a line they can’t cross.”

he smiled wide.

“i’d let you cross it.”

“no not even me,” you shook your head. “not that’d i’d ever anyways.”

he looked at you, and then unexpectedly, satoru slowly leaned in and pressed a delicate, soft kiss to your cheek— his lips lingering there greedily for a few seconds more before pulling away, your shocked bright pink cheeks making him burst out laughing.

you missed class without even realizing, but you didn’t have an ounce of care in your body, seeing as satoru was worth more than anything from that point on.

since then you both hung out a lot more, and you still had your little quiet nights of self care, arts and crafts, and movies— except now, satoru was present in every activity.

satoru longed for your lifestyle, and you longed for his— so the act of watching movies together until two in the morning, making horrific origami bird shapes that never looked like the pictures in the instruction manual and laughing, sorting through his 80’s cd collection in his apartment while he sampled a few for you on his bass, and singing the cure so loud through his car sunroof while he drove you aimlessly at night with a strong grip on your thigh, were all a perfect blend of exactly what you both needed most.

it was several months of spending every waking moment together that you soon eventually became a little thing with satoru. there wasn’t an official label, and you guys hadn’t even kissed, but the longer than normal embraces, kisses on each others cheeks, and intertwined fingers everywhere you went was an obvious sign that something was there.

you picked up on how people looked at you more often rather quickly ever since satoru started bringing you around his circle, wondering how you came out of nowhere and captured his attention when thousands had tried for years.

and though most welcomed you with open arms and kind smiles, the majority of his girl fan base was bitter.

shoko often told you to just shake it off and not pay any mind to it, saying that it was a bunch of mean girls with nothing better to do, but it got a little harder once a pretty black haired girl named lina started grabbing satoru for conversations almost every night at the alley.

and today was no different.

“hi sweets!” satoru greeted you enthusiastically, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as you arrived early to the pub to help him and suguru set up for tonight’s show. “you look very pretty today.”

“thank you!” you smiled wide and leaned up on your tippy toes, your body automatically pulling your lips to his until you quickly steered them to the corner of his mouth, pecking lightly before settling back down on the soles of your feet.

that wasn’t the first time you had almost accidentally kissed him, but it wasn’t just you, as satoru slipped up almost every second of every day when you both were together— the thought making you laugh internally as you followed him to the stage.

“don’t help out this time—” he pleaded gently with you as he took a high barstool chair for you and dragged it closer to the stage. “i want you to just sit and be pretty.”

you tilted your head to the side. “why toru? i don’t mind helping out i like it—”

“no i know!” he smiled sweetly at you. “but i want you to just sit there and relax and not lift a finger tonight. you’ll hurt yourself if you do.”

you giggled softly and nodded, hopping up on the stool and wringing your fingers together on your lap as you watched satoru set up his amp and readjust his mic stand, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched the way his biceps and chest looked in his black compression tee.

“are you thirsty sweets?” he asked, his eyes trained to the ground as he untangled a bunch of chords and threw them behind him. “i can get you something from the bar?”

“oh no!” you shook your head quickly. “it’s okay toru you’re busy—”

satoru hopped off the stage and jogged over to the bar, him exchanging a few words with the bartender that you couldn’t quite make out until he jogged back over with a cold glass of sugary iced tea, placing it on your table under a coaster.

“for you.”

you smiled sheepishly, “thank you.”

“if you need—”

“satoru! hey!”

you snapped your head over to the entrance and saw lina, her wave a little flirty as she bounced over to the both of you.

lina only spared you a glance before her sparkling suggestive eyes landed back on satoru.

“oh hey?” he looked over at the clock on the wall. “im sorry, the alley doesn’t open for another two hours—”

“oh i know!” she twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. “i just wanted to stop by and see if you needed any help? you know, setting up?”

what.

your eyebrows pinched together and you looked at satoru, waiting for his answer.

“oh! um— sure! thanks!” he smiled at her, and you felt a pang of annoyance through your chest as you watched him lead her on stage and give her directions, much like how he did for you when you helped out.

you crossed a leg over the other and looked away.

satoru wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t like you could say anything or feel the way that you did… but then again, isn’t he kind of? you didn’t know, and the more you wracked your brain to try and figure out what exactly the both of you were, the angrier you got at the situation in front of you.

satoru flashed lina his world famous dazzling smile, cracked joke after joke and made her laugh, helped her when she went “confused” and helpless, and even showed her basic chords on his bass when she asked.

you pursed your lips, eyes narrowed. satoru was smiling at her the way he smiled at you and cracking jokes the way he joked with you, and your jealousy only grew as you let your mind wander if the way satoru treated you was actually anything significant if he was willing to do it for some random girl.

you sat there for what had felt like forever, people starting to pile in for the show as the alley opened, and you hopped off the stool bitterly to cool off in the restroom, not bothering to let satoru know.

just as you got in line, you felt a hand tug at your wrist.

“y/n!”

you turned around and spotted shoko, smiling until she took in your annoyed expression.

“what’s wrong?”

“lina,” you muttered.

“oh god,” shoko leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “what the fuck is she doing now?”

“satoru help me, satoru how many chords does a bass have? satoru you’re so good at singing! satoru you owe me after this!” you mimicked, your heart heavy as you let shoko lead you back to your table.

“she’s getting braver,” she muttered. “say the word y/n and i’ll fake trip and spill my drink on her it’s easy—”

you snorted, “no no, it’s okay shoko. if satoru wants to let himself be drooled over and do nothing about it in respects to me, he can be my guest.”

the show started, girls already screaming and running up the stage with, of course, lina front and center by satoru, jumping and wiggling her sick fingers up at him.

satoru was like he normally was at his shows— attentive to everyone and being just who he is, but what ticked you off more than usual was how much attention he was paying to lina, way more than the rest, and you couldn’t even watch the stage anymore when satoru reached down and held her hand for a moment, not once glancing up at you.

you were done.

“i think i’m gonna go!” you shouted to shoko over the music.

“what?!” shoko grabbed your arm. “don’t go! it’s almost over! i wanna see you chew him out!”

you laughed and shook your head. “i can’t stand being here, and he clearly doesn’t care whether i’m here or not right now so—”

more screams.

both of your heads snapped to the source.

lina was on stage with him.

you scoffed and grabbed your purse, ignoring shoko’s protests as you pushed your way through the crowd and away from the stage.

when satoru finally decided to scan for you through the pub, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your seat empty and shoko glaring straight murderous daggers at him.

“where is she going?” he mouthed to shoko.

“home!” she spat loudly, getting up herself and disappearing through the crowd.

satoru’s eyes immediately widened, his fingers clammy and numb as he started to pluck the wrong notes, suguru giving him a weird look.

“carry the show without me,” satoru quickly told him, frantic. “please, i have to go.”

suguru nodded and waved him off, seeming like he knew why satoru’s skin was sickishly pale as he carried on calmly.

it wasn’t like you to just leave without him or not tell him anything, so as he threw the strap of his bass over his shoulders and handed it to a tech member, he hopped off stage and ran through the crowd, ignoring their pleas of protest or the tugging he felt at his clothes.

you were halfway down the parking lot when you heard the pub door slam open and footsteps running towards you.

“sweets!—” satoru yelled. “hey- where are you going?!”

“home!” you yelled over your shoulder, arms crossed as you kept walking.

satoru’s stomach dropped.

“y/n!” he caught up to you and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around as he tried to catch his breath. “why? are you okay?”

“just fine!” you spat. “why don’t you go back on stage and drool all over lina—”

“lina?” he gawked. “drool? what are you talking—”

you shrugged his hands off of your shoulders. “do you not see how she’s been all over you for what seems like fucking months?! and you just let her! i’ve been ignoring it but today you really pissed me off—”

you turned away again and he immediately grabbed your waist with his hands, pulling you back.

“hey- no. tell me what i did okay just tell me—”

you scoffed. “you really don’t see it? first of all she came to the alley two fucking hours early today, and then she’s all over you and you’re all over her and you’re smiling at her and making her laugh like you do with me, and then she’s playing the little damsel in distress helping you set up while i just sat there and watched—”

“all over her?” his eyes narrowed. “i couldn’t give less of a shit about lina—”

“apparently you do!” you moved away from him, his hands falling from your hips. “because she’s giving you the ‘i wanna fuck you eyes’ every two seconds, and you’re holding her hand while you’re on stage, and then you literally pulled her on?! what the fuck am i supposed to think with that?!”

“i didn’t pull her on she jumped on!” satoru exclaimed, his arms out. “i’m sorry sweets that i didn’t notice okay i really am, but have you stopped to think that maybe i didn’t notice because i don’t care about her? i—”

“satoru you’ve been completely ignoring me the minute she got here—”

“toru.” he cut you off, voice firm. “it’s toru not satoru.”

you stopped, frustrated and hurt tears slowing brimming your eyes as you looked at him. “maybe you being a little flirt for everyone was okay before, but the minute you decided to butter me up and kiss my cheeks and call me sweets, that should’ve been over.”

“it is!” he exclaimed. “it’s been over! it never even started in the first place!”

“yes it did! you think i haven’t been watching how you are with people since high school?— you know what i’m done. i’m leaving.”

you sniffled and spun around again, but satoru only grabbed your wrist tightly and wrung you back.

“you think i haven’t been watching you?! i’ve loved you since fucking high school god dammit! i’m obsessed with you! when we officially met at the alley and i introduced myself i already knew your name and you know that! i don’t give a single living fuck about lina or anyone else but you! it’s always been you!”

you wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve.

gojo satoru loved you.

“so no. you’re not done. please don’t cry. all i’ve ever wanted was you and i let you slip through my hands in high school because i was a coward, and id rather die than let you slip through my fucking hands again and lose you over a stupid fight when i just got you!—”

“you’re not losing me i’m not going anywhere toru where the hell are you getting that from?!” you exclaimed.

“thank fuck then, so what are we still doing?! i’d cut everyone in my life off if you asked me to!—”

“no don’t do that! i was just jealous okay and i’m— and i’m angry—”

“okay but do you love me?!” he pushed angrily.

“yes! of course i do you know that!”

“okay so do i baby so what the fuck are we still fighting for?!”

“i don’t know!”

“stop giving me your little attitude then and come kiss me!”

your lips instantly collided with his as you threw your arms around his neck, fast hurried kisses that knocked the wind out of you as you both hungrily and fiercely tried to swallow each other’s lips, satoru tapping the back of your thighs and signaling you to jump on him.

you immediately sprung up and wrapped your legs around his waist, him holding you tight as he carried you over to his car and leaned you against the backseat door, his lips messily licking and swiping over yours as he seemed drunk on the taste of your sweet spit alone.

satoru dug through his pockets without breaking from your lips and found his keys, unlocking his car with a tap of a button and gently lowering you inside, him scrambling in after you and slamming the door shut, locking it.

he towered over you as he latched his lips back on yours, you laying flat on your back with your legs spread, satoru’s big cold hands on the sides of your thighs as he slowly slid your tiny little denim skirt further up— right up until he felt your silky panties under his fingertips.

“i gotta—” he said in between kisses. “take them off—”

you nodded quickly. “please take them off—”

satoru didn’t even let you finish before he practically tore your panties down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, his breathing erratic.

“oh my goodness,” he spread your legs gently, eyes completely wide and glazed over as he looked at your slick and shiny pussy. “you’re so pretty baby, just like how i pictured you.”

he ran a finger down your slit and your hips jumped, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you let out a symphony of whines that satoru wanted to record on his phone and play morning, noon, and night for himself and his dick.

he stared mesmerized at your fuzzy pink cheeks and swollen wet lips as he slowly rubbed over your clit, you immediately grabbing his unoccupied hand and sticking his middle finger in your mouth to suck in response.

“oh my god—” he threw his head back, his delicious adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”

he felt you bob your head up and down slowly on his finger and his head snapped down, eyes widening as he watched you act like a little slut for him, his hands with a mind of their own as he inserted his unoccupied middle finger in your slurping hole.

you let out a muffled gasp through the digit in your mouth and you spread your legs wider, his long and mouthwatering finger pumping in and out of you slowly, satoru’s body literally shivering at the sounds of your warm squelching pussy.

“listen to her baby…” he hummed. “she’s so fucking loud for me… how embarrassing.”

“toruuu,” you whined at his teasing, clamping your legs shut as you felt the tip of his finger hit that sweet spot in your walls that made your toes curl.

“open your legs.” he demanded. “who said you could close them, hm? i sure fucking didn’t.”

satoru picked up the pace and slipped in his ring finger without warning, your walls stretching and filling up as he abused your little cunt rapidly.

“you ever squirted before baby?” he huffed out, lips eating up your neck as you shuddered, your body jolting up and down at how fast he was fingering you.

you shook your head dumbly. “n—no, i don’t think i can—”

satoru laughed and bit your neck meanly. “yes you can sweets, your little pussy was just waiting for me to do it.”

he went even faster, a series of slap slap slap’s filling the car as his palm and digits hit your cunt repeatedly, sticky and soppy as he moaned over and over in your ear, absolutely intoxicated with the sloshing noises of your pussy and the way it was speaking to him, satoru utterly and incandescently obsessed with everything that was you.

“m—my god—” he panted, his pace brutal and animalistic as his long fingers rapidly plunged into your gummy hot hole, his tongue licking and slopping all over the side of your neck, your moans straight up filthy as the windows of his car fogged up.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—” he dragged his mushy kisses from your neck up to your chin and back to your lips. “be my girlfriend—” slap slap slap— “p-please be my girlfriend be my girlfriend i need you so bad i c-can’t live without you anymore—”

you eagerly nodded, your thighs shaking as you gripped his shoulders and tried to keep up with his kisses that swallowed your lips up hole. “y-yes— mph! i will toru i will—”

his car shook violently as he fucked your cunt with his fingers without mercy, an unfamiliar intense feeling bubbling up at the pit of your stomach as he did so, your entire pussy pulsing and swollen as you squealed, massive droplets of liquid spraying all over satoru and the leather seats of his car.

“fuck yes baby, give me what i want that’s it—”

satoru groaned so loudly as you squirted, him jerking his nasty fingers to selfishly get more out of you.

“thaaaats it sweets—” he panted, slowing down. “that’s it.”

you evidently blacked out at this point, your brain misty and distorted as you tried to come down from your delirious high, a high you’ve never ever felt before with your own digits.

satoru licked his fingers raunchily and lowered his face to your pussy, cleaning up any remnants and left over drops on your thighs and pussy with his perverted tongue, your body jerking and you whining again as you shut your thighs closed in overstimulation.

he came back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before flashing you the biggest most innocent smile, as if he didn’t just absolutely destroy your cunt minutes ago without grace.

slowly, you regained a sense of direction and finally looked at him properly as he sat down and pulled you gently up by his arms, your body practically limp as he settled you on his lap and hugged you affectionately, his cheek squished up against your forehead.

“so can you squirt or what.” he teased softly, a smile still on his face.

you giggled shyly and buried your face in his neck. “i made a mess.”

“that’s literally what i wanted don’t even start.” he mumbled, and you laughed again, louder this time.

“were you serious about me being your girlfriend?” you asked suddenly, your voice smaller and timid. satoru pulled back and tilted his head, catching your eyes with his.

“of course i was,” he said quietly. “i literally begged you while my fingers were knuckle deep in—”

you covered your face with your hands and laughed with a whine. “stop! okay okay! i get it.”

you took your face away from his neck and looked at him properly, tilting your head cutely as your eyes shined and sparkled with affection, him giving you the same look back as you leaned up and pecked his lips lovingly.

“you know…” you began. “when we first properly met and you asked me out that night, shoko told me there was a line i had to stand in if i was interested in you.”

satoru snorted, his eyebrows raised. “a line?”

you nodded. “mhm. you literally can’t pretend there isn’t one toru… and lina is in it too,” you finished off, snickering.

he rolled his eyes and huffed, feigning annoyance, but when he looked at you again, he only smiled and stared at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, a blush to his pale cheeks that never seemed to go away as long as you were around.

“line or not—” he sincerely spoke.

“you’ve always been the first one.”

[hai7ani]

familiar / haitani rindou

Haitani Rindou turns 32, gets married, and he silently wonders why people are so nice to him now.

the old retired ladies promoting milk powders and selling fresh fruits in the grocery store rushes up to him at any chance they get. one time when browsing for milk formulas one of them had tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at a brand she was not promoting for but thought was amazing when her own grandchild had tried it, and then placed a bunch of other stuff in his cart that she thinks his wife would need. an example would be containers of freshly cut mixed fruits that her colleague had just prepared. you remember him telling you that her tone was a lot more different than the average grocery store promoter trying to sell you a product ー it was almost as if she was talking to her own son.

when shopping for flowers just like he does every Sunday suddenly the part-timer who is usually silent, does her job and only responds to customers' needs had stepped up to him and pointed out a few selections that she believes are lovely for expecting parents. she was even smiling when doing so. and you remember he came home to you that day with two bouquets of fresh flowers ー chrysanthemum and baby's breath ー one in each hand.

today when taking you out for dinner in the local family-owned restaurant the daughter had served you a warm bowl of beef bone soup. neither of you had ordered it for yourselves, and you were about to tell her that, but her mother speaks before you can. "drink it, love. the soup is good for you." she yells a little from where she sits at the cashier with a grin. when Rindou stands to pay after finishing up her husband then refuses to take your bill for the night. "it's okay, son. dinner's on the house this time." he pats his shoulder and pushes you both out the door. "take care, you two. the next time you come i'll cook tofu for you, alright?" it was directed to you and you'd laughed, a little embarrassed but feeling warm and fuzzy nonetheless.

and now you are listening to your own husband ramble on and on about his new mysteries while he massages your feet on the couch.

"i seriously don't get it. i've been going to these places for years now and they were never this nice to us. i mean, they are nice, but never this nice, you know? it's the first time we've ever gotten a free meal from Kobayashi's."

we. us.

you brush his hair back, admiring the light wrinkles that have started to form on his skin. "that's exactly it, don't you think?" you bring it up and he hums in confusion.

"perhaps the reason why they've been so nice lately is exactly because you've been going to these places for years now. they know you."

"huh?"

"if you think about it, they've watched you go from an ordinary man to a husband, then a father. watched you bring a girl they've never seen before to these places more often and suddenly we go together all the time, you have a ring on your finger and i am pregnant. perhaps it is why. a sense of familiarity, maybe?"

Rindou looks at you as if you are love and warmth and everything pink and red and blue and purple and-

you are right, actually. you'd went from a girl he met at a bar to becoming the love of his life, the woman who is now carrying the love you both share. and the ladies at the grocery store, the Kobayashi's, the part timer who's been around even after graduating university years ago? they've all watched him grow.

when Rindou was 17 and had gotten ambushed by a rival gang alone, it was madam Kobayashi who'd ushered him into their store way past the last call and offered to cook him a nice meal, had her medical student son patch him up, her husband to chase away the remaining guys who were waiting for Rindou to come back out. her daughter had been about Rindou's age then, hiding behind the cashier and watching as he ate in silence with a cut to his lip, another on his eyebrow. (to this day still no one except for you, her, and him, knows that the reason he'd gotten ambushed that day was because he'd stood up for miss Kobayashi when she was getting bullied by one of the delinquents. she still thanks him for what he'd done whenever you both finish up your meal and get ready to leave.) Rindou was 17 when he'd first discovered what it was like to care for people; to be a human before anything else.

the two ladies from the grocery store wasn't yet retired and working this job back then. the promoter lady used to be the janitor who was working in the office building of his first job. she'd watched him gone through periods of unknowing, confusion, stress, to become a solid man of status today. the lady who is selling fruits used to work as a professional tutor and had been the one to tutor Rindou and his brother on Mathematics. although she is mute and can't respond in words when her students have confusing questions to ask, the brothers still thought of her as a good teacher because of the way she taught, which is why they'd stuck around and refused to switch teachers despite their parents' disapproval. because she is mute, she can only count on her colleague to dump containers of freshly cut fruits into his cart while motioning for her to tell him things that she actually wants to say to him whenever he visits the store.

the part timer at the florist is a lot younger than he is, but she have been working there for a very long time. watched him when he was still an inexperienced bachelor pacing around the store wondering which flower would be good on a first date to buying the same flowers every Sunday because you'd liked the lilies that she recommended.

it'd be heartwarming for anyone to see the boy you watch grow around love, into love, finding love, to marrying her and becoming a father.

"...yeah. maybe."

[queensunshinee]

Wreck my plans || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, family drama, very slow burn, maybe too slow, I really don't know what's going on here

Word Count: 8.5k

Wreck my plans

Parties were never your thing. Parties are Jenny's thing. But she went away for the weekend with two friends from Harvard and didn’t even think to invite you. So Jenny can go to hell. And you can go to the party.

Luke Thompson's house is huge, and it doesn’t surprise you since you've spent two evenings a week here over the past few months trying to teach him algebra and literature. He had to repeat senior year after his complete failure last year. The party was in celebration of him finally getting his diploma and being accepted to a local college nearby.

"Little (Y/L/N)!" he shouted, spreading his arms wide, inviting you for a hug. "The only reason I managed to finish school," he added, yelling, making you roll your eyes. "You’re the only reason you managed to finish school, Luke," you said, taking a step back. "To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come," he looked around, causing you to do the same and start recognizing familiar faces from your grade and the one above you (Jenny’s). "I've never seen you at a party before." "I've been to parties. we just don’t hang out with the same people," you said as the two of you moved towards the kitchen so you could grab a drink.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but your attention drifted to the blond guy in the kitchen- Art Donaldson. Dressed in a pink button-down shirt and jeans, holding a red cup just like the one Luke put in your hand, drinking the same warm beer you're drinking. You hadn’t thought about him for almost a year. Your gaze wandered from him to the living room, where you saw Dave flirting with someone you couldn’t identify, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at the scene. You tried to listen to Luke for a few more moments because it felt like the polite thing to do, but you lost interest, and, like a magnet, your eyes were drawn back to Art Donaldson, who was busy looking you over from head to toe. You wonder if it made you blush or if it's just the cheap alcohol. You left the kitchen with a certain sense of saturation, looking for people you actually enjoyed being around more than Luke, who, as nice as he was, was too sociable for your taste. Tried too hard. You also try hard, mostly to stay out of everyone’s way.

You ended the evening with Chloe and Ron- ironically, friends of Jenny's, since Lia refused to come. They asked about Jenny and told you about their college experiences. Ron finished his first year at Yale, and Chloe went to a local college not far from here. Maybe it’s time to go home, as you feel like you’re suffocating and the place is closing in on you. The thought of staying close, like Chloe, to this suburb made your stomach turn. Chloe loved it, though. She didn’t see anything wrong with it. She planned her life right here. Just like this.

"Can I sit?" A familiar voice stood above you as you stared at Luke’s pool. A few people were in the far corner of it, but otherwise, the yard was empty. You shrugged without saying anything as Art sat down. He took off his shoes and folded up his jeans a bit, dipping his feet into the pool- something you hadn’t even thought to do. You looked at him for a moment as he took another sip from the drink in his hand. He’s probably the most handsome guy you know- a childish thought that’s crossed your mind since you were young, since you remember him. Blond with eyes that could make stars feel embarrassed with how they shine. There’s nothing ordinary about him. He’s exceptional. You don’t think there’s any girl your age who’s known him and hasn’t had a crush on him, at least for a moment.

"Congratulations on finishing school. I heard you’re the reason Luke can celebrate," he said casually, looking at you and causing you to turn your gaze back to the pool in a split second. "He really needs to stop telling people that," you replied, hearing him chuckle. "How was your first year in college? Stanford, right?" you asked, trying to shift the focus from yourself to him. "Yeah, tennis, you know. It’s nice. I’m supposed to choose a major next semester. My mom wants me to pick business management. I’m considering sports management," he said offhandedly, as if it weren’t too personal. As if this wasn’t the longest conversation you’d had since kindergarten. "Then you have to choose sports, of course," you said quickly. "Sorry, it’s none of my business," you added just as fast, realizing you’d stepped into his complicated relationship with his mom. "If only it were that easy, huh?" he chuckled. "To choose what I want," he added.

At that moment, Art Donaldson had no idea that what he was saying touched the deepest parts of your heart, nearly crushing it. Stroking an open wound without knowing the area was sensitive. Jenny decided at the last moment that she didn’t want to study at Yale and preferred Harvard, which meant financially you couldn’t study out of state. It would just be too much. And it surprised no one that you were the one who had to give up your dream. It surprised no one, because Jenny was the first to decide, and you received the scraps of something that might have been hers. Like wearing an old shirt, she no longer wanted. It’s never the other way around.

"Aren’t you planning to go pro?" you asked after a few seconds, trying to shake off the emotions flooding you. "I’m not sure yet, my mom really wants me to finish my degree," he explained, taking another sip. "Patrick’s really suffering on his tour. don’t tell him I told you that." He added information you hadn’t asked for. As if you were in daily contact with Patrick Zweig. As if you’d ever exchanged a word with him. You only know Jenny slept with him a few times, but it’s not something you two talk about, so whatever. "I’m going to Wesleyan," you said suddenly and looked at him; his gaze was already on you. "Damn," he smiled a half-smile, and maybe it was the first time you’d felt a certain pride since you applied there. "Jenny went to Harvard, so it’s complicated for both of us to study out of state, you know how it is," you felt the need to explain the situation, even though he hadn’t asked, and he certainly didn’t know how it is. "It’s a good school tho, I’m glad I got in," you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, but he furrowed his brows as if he didn’t believe it, as if he had something to say about it. But he kept it to himself, and you appreciated that.

"I have to say, distancing myself from Jenny (Y/L/N) was one of the best things that’s happened to me since I left," everyone knew about Art and Jenny's relationship. They couldn’t stand each other. They competed in every possible subject. From student council to tennis. You don’t think Jenny even likes tennis. She just likes the first place. And without realizing it, you laughed, which a good sister shouldn’t do, but you felt it too. Distancing yourself from Jenny was a relief. The difference is that you’re not allowed to say that out loud, and Art Donaldson doesn’t really care. He doesn’t need to be at family dinners during holidays.

You looked at him for another second and thought this could be a good moment to kiss him. It was as if he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for a second since he sat down. You could lean in a little and press your lips to his. It’s not like you’d see him much again. You wouldn’t see him at all and in six weeks, you will move into the dorms in college. and in few years, maybe after school, he’d probably be a professional tennis player or a lawyer or the president. You think you can picture him as the president. You'd vote for him. "Well, it was nice seeing you, (Y/N)," he smiled another one of his captivating smiles. "Talk to me if you ever find yourself in California," he gave a small nod, grabbed his shoes, and walked away. Maybe one day you’ll manage to actually do something you really want to do. . . . You regretted what you did about three minutes after you politely turned down the full scholarship to Wesleyan. and accepted what they offered you at Stanford. But in your defense, it was late at night, you’d just come back from Luke’s party very tipsy, and you had no real intention of talking to Art when you got to California. You’d never seen your parents so angry. Your mom cried. Your dad said you were inconsiderate. Jenny sat on the couch, watching you with a raised eyebrow. They said they wouldn’t pay for anything, that if you made this decision, you’d have to deal with the consequences. The scholarship covered your tuition, but for housing and books, you’d have to use your savings. Two jobs you picked up over the summer and a part-time job you’d had for three years of babysitting. They didn’t speak to you for weeks. From the moment you told them, all communication between you went through Jenny.

"Tell her dinner’s ready," "Tell her to go down and buy eggs," "Tell her Uncle Barry’s coming over tonight, to act like she still cares about this family."

"They'll come around," Jenny mumbled when she climbed into your bed one of those warm August nights. "I don’t know," you answered with your eyes closed, exhausted from the day at work and the hostility you returned to at home. "I know," she concluded. In the morning, you woke up alone.

You think they’ll never forgive you. Maybe you’ll never forgive them. But you don’t know. . . . The empty bed in your dorm was beneath the window. You didn’t complain for a moment because everything could have been much worse. Jenny bought you the flight ticket to California for your birthday. You cried. You remembered that small moment when Art said he was glad to be away from her and you giggled, not defending your sister. She’s not to blame for being born first. She’s not to blame for needing more attention. Her intentions are good. That should be the only thing that matters.

You only met Billie in the evening when she came back from what she described as a date. She spoke about 50 words a minute, so it was hard to follow. She asked why you came a week late, you wanted to say that you were on time and she came early, but all you managed to get out was "work." It wasn’t a lie. You worked at a camp and an ice cream parlor all summer, trying to save as much as you could because you didn’t know how long it would take to find a job near the university. Turns out, very quickly. The diner across from the university was looking for waiters, and you showed up without experience but with a convincing smile and some recommendations from previous employers, as if anyone cared that you were great with kids. Three shifts a week, and the savings would help you keep your head above water. That’s all you need.

A week after you arrived at the dorms, Billie and Summer, your roommates, forced you to go with them to a party. And it wasn’t too hard to convince you because you weren’t at home. And sometimes, you need to remind yourself that you at home isn’t the same you who’s at Stanford. Here, no one knows you or Jenny. No one expects anything from you, no one will call you "Little (Y/L/N)." Here, you are whoever you choose to be. And that’s enough. Enough to wear almost burgundy lipstick and a tight dress, but still sneakers. After all, something of you stays the same.

Someone named Dean hit on you most of the night, and Billie told him you had a boyfriend. "Babe, anyone but Dean. I’ve been here two weeks, and he’s slept with the entire building already," she whispered in your ear, and you laughed. Someone else hit on you during the night, but you didn’t remember his name. When you lay in bed, you tried calling Jenny to tell her about your night, but she didn’t answer. And maybe that’s okay. . . . The first time you saw Art at Stanford, he was the one who actually saw you. "(Y/n)?" He lifted his sunglasses to his hair. He wore a Stanford T-shirt and pants that made you wonder if they were also Stanford coded. He had a racket bag over his shoulder. He looked confused. "Hey," you didn’t know what to say as you leaned against the only free tree you could find and tried to read one of the books from your syllabus, preparing for your first class. "Hey?" He almost chuckled as he sat down next to you, not taking his eyes off you. Like you’d disappear the second he blinked. He didn’t seem disappointed by your presence. "Shit, I was joking about California," he looked amused, still studying you. He took the book you were reading, like it was his, ran a hand over the cover. Like he knew everything he needed to know about the course just by looking at it. "Stanford was on my list, and it just felt more right," you tried to justify, to explain that it wasn’t because of him. He didn’t think it was because of him tho, not really. "How did they take it?" he asked, probably remembering details from your conversation at the party. "I don’t know, because they’re not talking to me," you said it in the same casual tone, like it didn’t bother you. "Damn," he muttered, "that bad?" he asked. "It’s whatever," you shrugged. "I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll see you around, yeah?" He stood up and walked away. You didn’t know if you’d actually see him around again, but the interaction had been nice. You think that maybe Art Donaldson won’t judge you. And that’s an interesting thought. . . . The next time you see him, you're in the middle of a shift, wearing a ridiculous apron and a ponytail that makes your hair look greasy. Needless to say, you’re embarrassed, but he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal. He says hello, which is surprising because he’s with friends, and you look, well…ridiculous. You say hello back, because you’re polite, and it’s the right thing to do. They sit down at one of the tables, and you hear his voice from a distance saying, “I know her from back home.” You think it’s a half-accurate description, because you don’t really know each other- not like he knows Patrick Zweig or Luke. Not like he knows Jenny. You also think the girl sitting next to him is very pretty. Pretty enough to hate her, but nice enough not to.

Casually, before they leave the diner, Art asks if you're going to a party someone in his dorm is throwing. You shrug in response because you hadn’t heard about it until now. “It’ll be fun, you should come,” he calls out, mentioning the building he lives in before he leaves with his friends. He didn’t have to invite you. He doesn’t have to invite you to places. You’re not his responsibility. You don’t want him to think you are. You don’t know if you’ll go. . . . When you received the email from the registrar notifying you that your account had already been paid and that there was no need for the duplicate payment you’d tried to make, you found yourself confused. When you realized your parents had paid the bill despite saying they wouldn’t, you ended up crying for two hours. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. They haven’t spoken to you in almost three months. They let you stew in guilt but are willing to pay your bills? It’s ridiculous. None of them answered when you tried to call to say thank you. You cried for another hour. 'Busy. Do you need anything?' -Jenny-

You think you need a hug. But that feels childish, so you send her an orange heart emoji. . . . You go to the party Art invited you to with Billie and Summer because, why not? You don’t mention that you got an invitation, just casually say you heard there’s a party and that it might be fun to check it out.

You decide to put on the dark lipstick again, you liked how it looked last time, and honestly, the feedback was great. This time, you stick with a thin shirt, ripped tights, and shorts- keeping it low-effort was part of the actual effort. You think it’s silly. But you look cute, so fuck it.

Art spots you before you notice him again. He comes up to you in the middle of a conversation, gently swiping the beer bottle from your hand, making you look at him as he takes a sip and hands it back. “You’re the hot guy from the posters,” Billie says shamelessly, looking straight at him. “Art,” he chuckles, introducing himself, making you roll your eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a bit?” He asks permission, which is ridiculous and funny, making you feel embarrassed as he hands you back the beer and leads you to another corner of the apartment by your other hand.

“Hey,” he says, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Hey,” you reply with staged nonchalance. “You look good,” you add, because it’s true. The few times you’d seen him on campus, he was in Stanford sports gear. Seeing him again in a button-down and jeans felt like a privilege. “That’s what I’ve heard,” he responds, referencing Billie’s comment from a few minutes ago, taking the beer from you again. Maybe it’s over the top, sharing the same bottle. It’s relatively intimate for two people who don’t actually know each other.

One of his friends comes over and starts talking to Art about tennis, his gaze lingering on you. You wonder if Art realizes he’s standing closer to you in a slightly possessive way. That his hand is lightly brushing yours, that he keeps taking the bottle from you to drink from it, openly displaying that sense of intimacy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You’re not sure where the courage to ask came from. Maybe it’s the tequila shots you took with Billie and Summer before heading out to the party. Maybe it’s the joint you passed between each other. But Art looks amused as he nods. You catch Summer out of the corner of your eye, giving you a thumbs-up and making exaggerated kissy faces. If Art saw her doing it, he didn’t say anything. The contrast between the noise in the building and the quiet outside surprises you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but you hoped he’d say something by now. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much to talk. “Want to head to the lake?” he suddenly asked, though you were already walking that way. You hadn’t actually been there yet, but you didn’t want to reveal that you didn’t know the area that well.

“Hey, give me your phone,” you said, stopping in your tracks. He stopped too, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “So bossy,” he muttered with his signature smirk, but you entered your number and sent yourself a flower emoji so you could save his number later. When you reached the lake, it almost took your breath away. It looked like something out of a movie. You know it sounds like a cliché, but it really was like that- like an old movie, but not too old. The moon reflected off the lake, and a few people were sitting on the grass nearby. You sat on a table instead of the bench next to it. Art raised an eyebrow at the choice but shook his head like you’d done something funny.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, looking at you as if confessing a secret. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” You knew that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he laughed anyway. He sat on the bench below you, between your legs. You felt as if you had some kind of power. Your hand automatically moved through his curls. You thought about apologizing but decided not to. “How are you?” he asked. “I’m okay, I think. How are you?” you tossed the question back at him. “Seriously, how are you?” His fingers brushed over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “With your parents and everything?” he added. “I’m fine,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t push as much as you expected. His hand squeezed yours for a moment, as if he had more to say. Instead, he nodded and stood up, starting to walk with you just behind him.

You're walking alongside the lake, wondering if this path has an end, or if you even want it to. You think you might feel those butterflies in your stomach. "Do you know my first memory of you?" he asks suddenly, and you’re surprised. Part of you doesn’t want to know. It’s probably related to Jenny. Art has so many memories of Jenny, and they’re all negative. Deep down, you hope he doesn't remember you as this girl being attached at her hip. "The day after my dad's funeral, you gave me a daisy you picked from someone’s garden." He chuckles, but it sounds bitter. You don’t remember this. You do remember, though, that for years, until you both drifted and each found your own group of friends—he called you "Daisy." You never knew why. "Oh." You don’t know what to say, so that’s what comes out a bit pathetic. "I didn’t even know it was a daisy, if the story details matter," you try to lighten things up. "I asked my grandmother," he says, and the two of you chuckle. "That’s why you called me Daisy for three years straight?" you ask. "God. Why do you remember that?" He puts a hand over his face, as if he’s embarrassed or something. "I thought maybe you didn’t know my name, and since I was Jenny’s sister, you just rolled with it." You laugh. "It suited you, Daisy," he says, and his hand moves your hair behind your ear. This isn’t the first time he’s done that, but this time he also looks at your lips. You feel like he’s looking at your soul if that's even possible.

"I really wanted to kiss you at Luke's party," you admit, because it feels like the right moment. "Oh yeah? So why didn’t you kiss me?" he asks, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. "I’ve wanted to do it since eighth grade, and then I had the chance and didn't know what to do" You look at him. His smile is still plastered across his face, and you wish he wasn’t so smug all the time. "Maybe I wanted you to kiss me at Luke's party," he says, almost ignoring what you just said. "Little Daisy, sitting by the pool alone. Maybe I approached you with intent? Maybe I was goi-" You don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his sentence, as you crash your lips onto his like you’re possessed. His smile lingers for a few moments. His hands pull you closer to him as he presses you back against a light pole you didn’t know was behind you.

Art Donaldson is a good kisser. No one can take that from him. He’s an amazing kisser. His tongue is way too skilled. His hands have found their way under your shirt as if that’s their natural place. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, and when you both pause to catch your breath, he presses his forehead against yours. He places small kisses on your cheek, then on your neck, and only when you lean your head back and bump into the pole do you remember that you’re in a public space. People could see you. This is not your style. "Okay, we’re good," you tap his chest lightly, making him laugh the most delightful laugh you’ve ever heard. "Is this everything you dreamed of before starting high school?" he asks, planting another small kiss on your cheek, as if he just can’t help himself or something. "I didn’t dream about kisses like this, Donaldson." You roll your eyes, thinking it’s pretty ridiculous that you’re smiling right now.

When you reach your dorm, you wonder if you should invite him in. You think he’d say yes. But you also think there’s something beautiful about leaving the night as it is- two people who used to know each other, kissing by a lake. He gives you a small kiss and takes out his phone as he turns to leave, while you head inside, unable to resist leaning against the door.

'Since eighth grade, huh?' -Unknown Number-

'Shut up.' -(Y/N)-

He replies with a flower emoji. You think the intention is daisy. Maybe you’re overthinking it. . . . You don’t expect Art to text you the next morning. You had that night together; it was great, and maybe it was exactly what you needed to get him out of your system. Maybe it was what you needed to finally move on from that endless crush on Art Donaldson. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed when he didn’t reach out at all, as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. But that’s probably fine. He doesn’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe him. You each have your own lives at Stanford. You’re trying to juggle work and studies. You’re supposed to submit a thirty-page paper after Thanksgiving, and you’ve only written three. Clearly, you have enough to keep you busy.

Your mom called a few days ago, and you cried. Because you hadn’t really talked in almost four months. She said Jenny convinced her. It’s kind of messed up, but you don’t say that. You’re just glad someone convinced her. You’ve been thinking a lot lately about how strange it is- how you never behaved outside of what was expected of you, and the one time you did, they reacted as if you’d committed a crime. You think about it even when you’re trying not to think about it. Your mom asked if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. You said no. You wonder if it made her sad only after you hung up. . . . The next time you see Art, he’s flirting with a redhead at a Thanksgiving party Summer convinced you to attend. Honestly, you could’ve skipped this party, but Summer said she wanted the girl who invited her there. So you bit your tongue and told her you’d meet her there, because that’s what friends do.

It’s easy to tell when Art is flirting; it’s basically exaggerated hand gestures and a level of closeness he’s never tried with you. You’ve seen him in action before. You try not to stare, because it doesn’t really matter. Instead, you look for Summer, who’s on the opposite side of the room, directly in Art’s line of sight. It makes you smile, knowing he’ll see that you’re here. You’ve decided you’re going to ignore him. You made that decision when you passed by him on your way to Summer, feeling his eyes on you but not meeting his gaze.

When Summer slips away to sit with Caitlin -the girl she’s interested in- a guy you don’t recognize approaches you. He introduces himself and offers you a drink. You politely decline, you’re smarter than to accept punch from a complete stranger. He’s nice, but standing a little too close for your comfort. He leans over you, and you feel a bit trapped between him and the wall you’re leaning against. You could walk away, of course, but the whole situation feels uncomfortable. You wonder where Summer is, unable to see her in the crowd.

"Don’t you think you’re a bit too close?" Art’s voice is firm and unyielding as he positions himself next to you, raising an eyebrow at the guy. "Sorry, man, thought she was single," he says, disappearing like he was never there. Neither of you bother to correct him about the two of you not actually being together. You roll your eyes at Art and head toward the kitchen, feeling his steps following behind. You spot Summer with Caitlin on one of the couches, and she gives you a nod, signaling that she’s fine and that you’re free to leave if you want. "Hey, you didn’t go home," he says behind you, as if everything is normal. "Quite the observation, Donaldson," you say, knowing you’re being mean. But, fuck it, he deserves it. You grab a beer from the kitchen and head outside, with him trailing beside you. "You’re mad at me because I didn’t text you," he sighs, prompting you to stop and raise an eyebrow at him. "You really think you’re something special, huh?" Maybe a bit too harsh, but it’s all you’ve got right now. "I don’t think I’m anything special. I just didn’t know what to say." He sighs again as you start walking away from the building. "It was a good night. I didn’t want to ruin it, you know?" You think he sounds almost shy. His voice is softer than usual, and you remind yourself that you also labeled that night as a good one, as a nice experience you didn’t want to spoil. So maybe it’s unfair to be angry- after all, you could have reached out to him, too. But what would you have even said? The three weeks since then passed quickly, and most of the time, you didn’t think about him at all. So it’s fine. Everything’s really fine.

"It’s ok, Donaldson, I wasn’t sitting by the phone waiting for a message from you. You can let it go," you sum up, trying to sound amused and light-hearted, though it comes out a bit too bitter for your liking. "So why didn’t you go home?" he asks, changing the subject. "I’m working." You shrug. He raises an eyebrow, like someone who knows that’s not the whole truth but also understands he’s treading on thin ice right now and shouldn’t push for more. "Why didn’t you go?" you throw the question back at him, trying to show him that it’s all good. "I’ve got a match tomorrow, plus my mom doesn’t really care," he replies, and you nod, understanding a bit of what he means. You knew his mom- she always struck you as the coldest person in the world. "What are you doing at a party if you have a match tomorrow?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, wondering if it’s too harsh, because you’re trying to steer the conversation onto calmer ground. "It’s in the afternoon," he shrugs. "You don’t have to walk with me, my dorms are really close," you say after a few moments of silence. "We’re good? We're friends and you’re not mad at me anymore, right, Daisy?" he asks, nudging his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes at the silly nickname, but you don’t find it in yourself to correct him.

"We’re good," you conclude, walking into your building, leaving him behind. . . . The next day, you decide to go to his game after your shift, only to find out that Patrick fucking Zweig is also sitting in the small crowd. Most of the students eager to see Stanford’s star in action probably love their families more and decided to go home. You sat far from Patrick, but it didn’t stop him from giving you a puzzled look as he whispered something to the girl sitting next to him, who was fully focused on Art's game. You remembered her from the diner the other day. She’s beautiful.

Art won to the applause of the crowd that stayed to watch until the end. Two hours of the ball going back and forth and sounds that were almost erotic. Whatever. You consider heading back to your dorm without saying anything just to avoid talking to Patrick. But Art smiles at you and gives a small wave, so you know there's no way to get out of at least saying hello. You need to suck it up. “Congratulations, Donaldson,” you mumble, and he gives you the smuggest smile he can find. “Little (Y/L/N), long time,” Patrick says to you with half-loudness. He doesn’t say anything bad, but you shrink a little. Trying to remember the last time someone called you that. Probably at Luke's party. Art looks at you with an apologetic look as if he knows. He probably doesn’t know. But that's okay. “How’s the tour?” you ask politely because it’s the right thing to do. “Good, good,” he says, shifting his gaze from you to Art and back to you. Like a man with a plan. “Want to have dinner with us?” he asks. In any other situation, you’d laugh, because the odds of you sitting at the same table with Patrick Zweig would be slim, especially considering his history with Jenny. “I wish, but I have a paper due in a few days, and I really have to work on it. Maybe next time,” you smile the most genuine smile you can find and quickly move away.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me Little (Y/L/N) was here,” you hear Patrick laugh. “Shut up, Patrick,” you’re almost sure you heard Art reply.

'You wish?' -Art Donaldson- He sent it half an hour later when you were already sitting at your computer with a cup of coffee in hand.

You turned off your phone. You need to focus. . . . Art came to your work far more often than you expected. He probably tried every dish on the menu, including the pancakes with the “secret” sauce that you suspect is just chocolate mixed with overly sticky jam. He sometimes studied there or came with his friends. He talked to you but not too much, and you texted each other from time to time. Were you friends? It felt strange to think that Art Donaldson and you were friends- not because he wasn’t someone you’d want to call a friend, but because you’d finally let go of the idea of him as someone out of reach.

One day, when he walked you home, he asked why you took on a fourth shift, since you usually didn’t work Mondays. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Donaldson?” you asked with a half-smile. “Daisy,” he sighed, as if you were being ridiculous, even though he was the one who knew your schedule and which days you didn’t usually work. “I’m saving up for a ticket home for the holidays, so,” you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “You haven’t bought a ticket yet?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “I’m buying it myself, so it’s taking me a minute.” Your parents had made it very clear they were only paying for your dorm. You bought your own books, and you had to cover your own flights. You didn’t look at him when you said it, afraid he might judge you- even if it was silly.

He stopped and looked at you. “That’s fucked up, (Y/N).” Whenever Art said your name like that recently, you knew he was serious, and that the conversation was drifting somewhere too deep. Like the time you talked about his grandmother, or his dad. “It is what it is,” you replied, continuing to walk, hoping he would keep walking too. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they bought Jenny her train ticket. You didn’t want to dwell on the thought that even if it was cheaper, no one made her feel guilty for the only choice she’d ever made in her life. “I could get you a ticket,” he said, and this time, you stopped. “What the fuck?” you asked, your voice going up an octave. “I don’t need you to–” “For the miles. You can pay me back later,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “I don’t need you to buy me a ticket. I don’t need your money, Art, let it go.” Your voice shook a little; you wondered if he heard it. “It’s not out of pity,” he said, voicing what you didn’t say. But you kept walking as if you hadn’t heard him.

“I wonder if we’ll find a spot in the library tomorrow,” you changed the subject to the first thing that popped into your head. Art didn’t say anything, but you knew it was the last thing he cared about at that moment. . . . A week before your flight, Billie cut your bangs. It’s not a cry for help, you told everyone who gave you a weird look. It’s cute. It’s fucking cute, ok? Art watched you from across the room at Patrick's party. You wondered if he'd say hello or if you'd both act like, at best, casual acquaintances- or, at worst, like you were just Jenny's little sister. You missed Lia and a few others who were fun to drink with and gossip with. You found out that Michelle was pregnant, which was a fucking scandal.

“Hey, stranger.” Art said when you walked into the kitchen. His eyes were redder than usual, and his smile was mischievous but tired. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, making Lia glance between the two of you. “Did you see she cut her bangs?” she asked, taking a sip from a drink you couldn’t quite identify. “It’s not a cry for help.” “It’s not a cry for help,” you both said together, but Art used a screechy voice, like he was imitating you, making Lia laugh. “She’s been yelling that at people all week,” he said to her, as if you weren’t standing right there. You considered grabbing a glass of wine and leaving them to talk alone. “Dave’s here,” Lia said suddenly, and you saw Art tense, his smile fading as if he sobered up instantly. If it weren’t for his telltale red eyes, there’d be no trace of it.

You and Dave had been together most of your last year in high school. He was the first guy you slept with, which was fine. It was just that everything felt a bit weirder whenever he was around since you broke up. It felt like you’d gone from friends to lovers to people scared of catching some incurable disease from each other if you'd even look at one another. “It’s totally fine,” you rolled your eyes, because, well, it really was fine. You hadn’t felt anything for Dave for almost a year. You regretted not knowing how he was doing or how he was handling college, but that’s life- you win some, you lose some.

“Little (Y/L/N),” Patrick Zweig’s voice grated in your ear. “Where’s (Y/L/N)?” he added quickly, probably drunker than usual, though you weren’t surprised. “Patrick,” Art muttered toward him, almost whining, like a man shocked by his best friend’s crudeness. “She’s at home, wasn’t feeling well.” You wondered if that was a convincing excuse for Jenny skipping Patrick’s party. But it was the excuse she left with you, and that’s what you’d stick to. “Well, at least we’ve got one family representative. What can you tell us about Art in California?” he asked, and you wondered why he was so desperate to put you in the spotlight. “Patrick, leave her alone,” Art’s tone was defensive, giving the guy next to him no option to dig any further. Patrick just flashed a mischievous grin and raised his hands in feigned surrender. “I like the bangs, you wear a mental breakdown well,” he chuckled and left the kitchen as chaotically as he’d entered, yelling something to Luke about beer pong. “Sorry, he’s an asshole,” Art said, sighing. You wondered when Lia had disappeared from your view. “He’s… Patrick,” you rolled your eyes. And it was true, you knew he didn’t act this way out of malice, he was just like that. “Want to get out of here?” Art asked. “Don’t you want to spend some time with your friends?” you returned the question. “I could use some air. Besides, who’s my friend here?” he shrugged. And as you both headed outside, you thought that was the saddest thing Art Donaldson had ever said to you.

"How does it feel to be home?" he asked. You want to say it’s ok, that it’s exactly what you dreamed, but it’s more like what you expected it would be. Your parents aren’t mad at you anymore, but they don’t approve of your decision either, and they remind you at every opportunity that they think you made a mistake. “It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I hate it when you say that,” he had this bitter laugh. “What?” You stopped for a moment and looked at him. “Every time you say something’s ‘fine,’ I know it’s not, and I have no idea how to get you to tell me.” He sighed, sitting down on a bench that hadn’t gotten wet from the rain that fell earlier in the afternoon.

“I’m not lying to you,” you tried to defend yourself, searching through your mind for other times you’d said something was ‘fine.’ You think he’s exaggerating. “I don’t think you’re lying. I think you don’t want to say things out loud,” he said. You think that if he weren’t a little drunk, he wouldn’t have brought up this conversation. “It’s weird, being home,” you said after a few seconds. He looked at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to say more. “I hate it when people call me ‘Little (Y/L/N).’ It feels like I don’t exist without Jenny,” you said, sharing something you hadn’t even told Lia. “I know,” Art said. “That’s why I get mad at Patrick when he calls you that.” He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “How did you know?” you asked, surprised by the nonchalance with which he said it. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asked with a half-smile, “I just know you, Daisy.” And if you didn’t know he was drunk and tired, you’d think there was sadness in his eyes. . . . A few days later, you saw Patrick at the grocery store, which was strange in itself because you were pretty sure Patrick Zweig had assistants to go grocery shopping for him. “Little (Y/L/N),” he said, and you’re fairly sure the smile on his face was genuine; he was actually glad to run into you. “Happy Christmas,” he said, stopping in front of you, holding a carton of orange juice and what looked like a frozen pizza. “I’m Jewish,” you rolled your eyes, only making him smile more. He knew that- he could deny it all he wanted, but Patrick knew Jenny very well, and you and Jenny shared genes. You both paid quietly for your items at the checkout, and as you stepped outside, he lit a cigarette, looking at you with an expression that seemed to expect you to stop and stand with him.

“I’m really glad you’re there with him at Stanford, you know?” he said after a few puffs of smoke. “Yeah? Why?” You tried to avoid smiling at him. You didn’t think he deserved a smile; he’s a jerk. “Because he’s better when you’re around,” he said softly, with a kind of depth you hadn’t seen in him before- something that made you think you understood what Jenny saw in him, how he managed to break her heart. “At tennis?” you asked. Because that’s all Patrick cared about- tennis, girls, and maybe Art. “At everything.” He shrugged, all the depth disappearing as he began to walk away. “Happy Hanukkah, Little (Y/L/N). Say hi to your sister for me.” You could see a wink. Patrick Zweig is defiantly an asshole. . . . You and Art went together to the New Year’s party at Stanford. Billie and Summer haven’t returned yet, and you’re almost certain Art moved his flight to catch the same one as yours, but you didn’t ask him about it because you think it would make you seem too smug. And you’re not. You really aren’t. You just think that if anything had changed from the last time he asked if you two were friends, he would have told you. But he hasn’t, so…whatever.

He sat on your bed today while you did your makeup, never taking his eyes off you through the mirror. Someone watching might think you’d hypnotized him. You don’t think you saw him blink once in the fifteen minutes he stared at you. “You like what you see?” you asked with a half-smile, still looking at his reflection. “What if I do?” he shrugged, as if this ridiculous flirtation was the truest thing he’d said in ages.

You decide not to linger too hard on his hand holding yours all the way to the party. Or on the fact that he kept you close to him while talking to people you didn’t know. On the effort he put into participating in a conversation with a friend you met in one of your courses. You try not to blush when he leans in and asks if you’re planning to kiss him at midnight. He's being bold. You think he’s acting like a brat. It should bother you. It doesn’t bother you.

You kiss him at midnight. Or maybe he kisses you. You’re not exactly sure, because you’re both so wrapped up in your own bubble, ignoring the drunken students around you. Your foreheads touch, and in an instant, your lips are on his, or his are on yours. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same. Beer and gum, and something else you can’t quite identify, maybe desperation. You like the mix. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you could get used to it. “It’s not silly, right?” you ask quietly while you both catch your breath. “It’s anything but silly, Daisy,” he says with certainty. And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Art Donaldson sound so resolute.

He kisses you all over when you get to your room. You thank the holiday gods for keeping your roommates away. Your red dress finds itself on the floor much faster than you expected. He’s too good at this. You’d feel much less confident if he didn’t look at you like you held the sun in your left hand and the moon in your right. You find yourself sitting on top of him in your bra and underwear, his hands on your hips steadying you. You’ve never felt sexier than you do right now. A little voice in your head screams at you to engrave this feeling. But you silence it; it’s insecure and reminds you of Jenny, the last person you want to think about when you’re at second base with Art Donaldson.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips trail down your neck to your chest, unclasping your bra with one hand like a pro. “Shut up,” you manage to say, and he chuckles into you, as if he’s trying to bury himself within you. It's hot, stupidly hot. In a few minutes, he half-gently tosses you onto the bed, stripping down with a speed you didn’t think possible. He leans over you in boxers, and you close your eyes for a moment, knowing you have to remember this. Because he really is a work of Art. You’ve never known anyone whose name suited them more.

His lips were everywhere on your body at once, if that’s even possible, and his fingers slid in and out of you before you even realized you’d lost your underwear or when you’d started making that sound from your throat. Everything embarrassed you but also felt natural. You’ve never experienced such a range of emotions with anyone else, and the second that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself on the edge, and Art was above you, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, whispering soothing words while you caught your breath.

He entered you, and you felt like he was enveloping you from every angle, your moans blending together. You think a tear slipped down your cheek. You’re almost sure Art kissed you right where it fell. He was both gentle and rough at the same time. You don’t think that makes sense, but a lot of things tonight don’t make sense. You almost laugh at that thought but decide against it. Instead, you look at him, only to find his eyes already on yours, and he’s so beautiful, with his blond curls and that smile stretched across his face. “Fuck, Art,” you manage to mumble as you feel another orgasm building within you, you didn’t know you were capable of more than one. To be honest, even one was rare until recently. “I know, Daisy, I know,” he says in a half-strangled voice before his lips are back on yours, his hand wrapping around yours, and you think it’s incredibly intimate. You’ve never had sex like this before. You don’t think there’s any trace of your old crush left. You think it might be love. After he cleans you up with a towel he soaked with warm water, he lies beside you, and the small bed forces you to stay close. Maybe it’s Art who refuses to let go. You’re not sure why, but your legs are tangled together and your head is resting on his chest. “Are you going to break my heart again?” he asks, and you don’t know what he means because you’ve never broken anyone’s heart, least of all Art Donaldson’s. But he’s so certain in his question, he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t correct himself. “When did I ever break your heart?” you asked. “When didn’t you?” he replies with a half-laugh. “You gave me a flower when I was eight and then didn’t talk to me for ten years,” he says quietly, like he’s sharing a secret you already knew but never understood.

It’s definitely love. You think you’re okay with that.

Hey? I don't even know what's going on but i'd like you to tell me what you think about that? that's it. Talk to me I guess.............

[alisonsfics]

team building

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: when natalie suggested a day of team building, carmy wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a wasting a day in the kitchen. he knew it would piss richie off though, which made it so much easier to agree. and he knew he’d get to spend more quality time with you.

word count: 2.4k

Things had been off at the restaurant. After a less-than-spectacular review from a food critic came out about the Bear, everybody had been on edge. Richie and Carmy were arguing all the time. Not important arguments, but just bickering about nonsense.

So, Sugar came in one day and suggested a team building day as a reset for everyone. Carmy had thought she was joking. Any time not spent in the kitchen felt like wasted time to him.

The only reason that Carmy ended up agreeing was because he knew how much it would annoy Richie.

That was how you all found yourself at a local park on a chilly Chicago morning.

You were one of the first ones to show up because your alarm went off earlier than you had meant for it to. You crossed your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

You headed towards Sugar, Syd, and Marcus, who were sitting and chatting at a picnic table.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sydney joked, seeing the tired look in your eyes. You smiled to yourself at her joke before giving her a quick hug.

She patted the seat next to her, and you quickly sat down. You crossed your arms on the table and leaned your head down. “Wake me up when everyone gets here,” you mumbled before closing your eyes.

“Okay, honey,” Natalie said, giving you a sweet smile.

Fifteen minutes later, Carmy pulled into the parking lot. He quickly flipped down his sun visor and checked his appearance in the mirror.

Knowing that he’d be seeing you, he fixed his hair, pushing some of the loose strands out of his face.

He carefully juggled the trays of coffee that he bought for everyone as he walked into the park. He spotted Natalie, who waved him over.

His eyes instantly landed on you. As he neared the table, he noticed that you hadn’t moved. “Is she sleeping?” He mouthed, looking at Sugar. She mouthed “yes” and nodded.

He quickly nodded, trying to be as silent as possible. Sydney scooted over, so that Carmy could sit between the two of you. It wasn’t an accident that Natalie and Marcus didn’t offer him a seat on the other side of the table. The whole team had been trying to facilitate the two of you getting together for months.

Carmy carefully set down the trays of coffee, desperately trying to not wake you up. He adored you, and everyone knew it.

He handed cups of coffee to Sydney, Natalie, and Marcus. His elbow accidentally bumped into your side. You slowly picked your head up from the table, a sleepy look on your face.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” he said, apologetically. You nodded, giving him a soft smile once you saw him. He handed you a cup of coffee as an apology.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you took a sip.

“Of course,” he said, willing to do anything to make you smile like that. You leaned your head over onto his shoulder, and he thought was gonna burst.

Sugar immediately had a smirk on her face when she noticed Carmy’s giddy smile. Carmy ignored her teasing and tried to pretend the love he had for you wasn’t obvious to everyone around him.

“Not enough sleep?” He whispered to you, letting his arm wrap around your shoulder. “Mhmm,” you quietly hummed, nestling yourself into his side.

“You guys want to come help me set something up?” Sugar asked Sydney and Marcus. The three of them quickly got up to leave but not before winking at Carmy.

After months of it, Carmy had come to expect their matchmaking antics.

“Y’know, I bet Nat would let you skip this if you need to get some sleep,” Carmy said, looking down at you. You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s fine, Carmy. I’m just a little sleepy.” You said.

A shiver ran down your spine from the chilly air. “You’re freezing. Here, drink some of your coffee.” He said, using his free hand to give you the cup.

You sat up, leaning away from Carmy and quickly stretching. You took the cup out of his hand and took a few sips. “You take such good care of me.” You said, smiling at him over the lid of your cup.

He returned your sweet smile. “You’d do the same for me.” He replied simply.

He noticed how your hands were slightly shaking as you shivered. He slid his denim jacket off his arms and wrapped it warmly around your shoulders.

Carmy’s cologne, which coated the jacket, filled all your senses. “Thank you,” you said, softly. Everything about Carmy made you feel like you were a teenager again.

“Am I interrupting some flirting?” You both heard Richie’s loud voice as he walked up to the both of you.

“Take some coffee and shut the fuck up,” Carmy countered. It was a little too early for Carmy to want to deal with the incessant teasing about your relationship, or lack there of. Richie held his hands up in surrender and grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Richie,” you said. Your sunny disposition was a direct contrast to Carmy’s current attitude toward Richie. Carmy didn’t want Richie to embarrass him in front of him.

“Good morning, sweetheart. It’s nice to see that someone’s in a good mood.” Richie said, directing a joking glare at Carmy.

“Call me sweetheart again, and I’ll hit you.” You warned, leaning your head back on Carmy’s shoulder. Carmy chuckled at your threat. “Point taken, won’t happen again,” Richie said simply.

Richie had learned not to push your buttons the same way he did to Carmy. He gave your hand a quick squeeze, which you took as a valid apology.

“Carmy, can we borrow your girl for a second?” Sydney called out to him. A giggle slipped out of your lips, while Carmy groaned. “Oh, for fucks sake,” he mumbled to himself. Before he could argue, you jumped up from your seat. “Coming,” you yelled, walking towards them.

“Come on, cousin, you gotta quit with the fucking jokes,” Carmy said to Richie after you were out of earshot.

Richie walked closer to him and took a seat beside him. “When are you gonna tell her how you feel?” Richie asked him, his tone very serious.

“You know I can’t. We work together.” Carmy said, simply. He hadn’t given the idea much thought. Sure, Carmy was basically head over heels for you, but he wouldn’t allow himself to even fantasize about the possibility. “She cares about you, Carm. Like really cares about you. That shit is special.” Richie told him.

“Boys, get over here.” Sugar yelled, in a motherly fashion.

Carmy and Richie immediately headed to join the others, knowing not to argue with her.

The two of them became hesitant when they realized they were walking towards a Twister mat. “Oh, come on, Nat,” Carmy started to protest.

“No buts, you are playing this game.” She told him, crossing her arms.

The five of you: you, Carmy, Sydney, Marcus, and Richie, all kicked your shoes off while Natalie grabbed the spinner.

It started off pretty mundane. “Right foot, red,” Natalie called out.

Richie “accidentally” slipped and fell, getting himself eliminated. But, you all knew that he just wanted to stop playing as soon as possible. He went to sit next to Sugar and laughed at the four of you as you struggled.

You and Carmy ended up face-to-face, only separated by a few inches. You giggled at Carmy trying to keep his hair out of his face.

Marcus got distracted by looking at you both swooning. His foot slipped, and he fell into the grass.

Natalie called out the next movement, which got you and Carmy separated enough, so you both could think straight.

Carmy ended up facing a different direction, but you could see Sydney’s face. She wiggled her eyebrows and looked between you and Carmy.

“Stop it,” you mouthed at her, trying to stop her teasing. An impossible goal.

She raised her eyebrows at you, challenging you. You didn’t know what she was going to do, but you didn’t think it boded well for you. You followed her gaze to the green circle her hand was currently resting on. She slid her hand to the side and pretended to slip.

“Oh, whoops,” she sarcastically whispered to you. With Sydney out, that left just you and Carmy. And all your friends watching.

Carmy couldn’t see it, but you watched Sydney join Natalie and move the spinner to the color she wanted. Natalie called it out, “right foot, blue, Carmy,”.

Not knowing about the secret plot, Carmy innocently followed the directions, putting you both in an awkward situation. Richie was the first to realize how unfortunate the position was, chuckling to himself.

You were currently in a downward dog position, and Carmy had his hands on either side of yours. Due to the recent “spin,” his chest was leaning against your back, and his hips were pressed forward against your ass.

Carmy tried to keep as much distance between the two of you as he could. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but he was kind of stuck.

“There’s kids at this park, come on, Berzatto,” Richie teased. Everyone realized what he was implying and started chuckling.

Carmy’s face was bright red, and he was beyond embarrassed. The humor wasn’t lost on you, but you were more amused than Carmy was at the situation.

“Team bonding, Natalie? I think we’re getting a little more than that.” Richie joked again. You started laughing and trying desperately to not slip and fall. As you were laughing, your whole body shook…against Carmy.

Behind you, you heard a small groan from Carmy that only you could hear. Everyone was also unaware of how he was biting down on his lip. Carmy was trying to think of anything that wasn’t how close he was to you right now.

He normally had a million thoughts racing around his head, but right now there was only one.

Completely distracted, his foot slipped. He fell on top of you, sending you both crashing towards the ground.

He shifted his weight, so he wasn’t leaning all his weight on you. “Oh shit, sorry. Are you okay? You good?” He anxiously asked you. He moved his hand to cradle the back of your head, making sure it didn’t start bleeding when you bumped it on the ground.

“I’ll go grab some ice.” Sydney said, the others following her to give you both some privacy.

“Carmy, I’m fine. It was just a bump.” You assured him. It didn’t get rid of the worried look in his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have been more careful.” He apologized. You could see the guilt in his eyes.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you tried unsuccessfully to convince him.

He moved his hand from the back of your head to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled it towards you, pressing a soft kiss against the bottom of his palm. It was a silent way of trying to calm Carmy down and assure him everything was fine.

“Besides, who else gets to say they’ve had the one and only Carmen Berzatto on top of them like this.” You teased him, gesturing at how he was still hovering above you.

He easily could have sat up and helped you up. It would’ve been even easier now that you’d pointed it out.

He stayed where he was.

If he moved any closer, his whole body would be pressed against yours. His lips were only millimeters away from yours, which made it so much harder for him to not kiss you.

“Wait…what?” He asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

You gave him a look that let him know that he already knew the answer.

“Are we just going to play this game forever? Where we dance around actually telling each other how we feel? You can’t possibly have any doubts that this is mutual. Our friends haven’t been teasing us about flirting for no reason. And you weren’t exactly subtle when you were practically thrusting your hips into my ass.” You explained.

For a second, you could see the gears turning in his head.

Then, he kissed you.

It was rushed but not short. Your arms naturally found their way around his neck. You both smiled into the kiss, grateful that it was finally happening.

Subconsciously, you both knew this day would come, but recently you’d been doubting it.

As Sydney dug through the cooler, Richie noticed you both over her shoulder.

“Oh my god. Cousin finally fucking went for it.” He exclaimed to himself. The rest of the group followed his gaze to see what he was talking about.

When they laid eyes on you and Carmy, all their jaws dropped.

“God, you’re wonderful,” Carmy mumbled against your lips. You both got distracted when your friends starting cheering for you. You could see the embarrassment on Carmy’s cheeks when he realized they were cheering for you both.

Richie even decided to whistle at you, which looked very strange to onlookers.

“Kinda forgot they were here,” Carmy whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He bashfully stood up and helped pull you to your feet.

As you both walked back towards the picnic tables, you didn’t know what to do as they all stared at the two of you. Carmy grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, earning another cheer from Sugar and Sydney.

The two girls quickly pulled you both into a hug. “It’s about damn time,” Sydney told you, causing you to giggle.

“Now the bet can finally end,” Marcus added. After a second of silence, you and Carmy turned to look at him. “The bet?” You both asked in unison.

Instead of responding, Sydney, Marcus, and Natalie all handed Richie twenty bucks.

“We got bored watching you two pine over each other, so we started a bet. The three of us thought it would happen months ago, but Richie was in it for the long haul.” Sydney explained.

“You all had too much confidence in cousin’s confidence. I knew it would take him forever to finally fess up.” Richie said, smiling as he stuffed the money in his pocket.

“It wasn’t even me. It was all her.” Carmy said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. There wasn’t much of a reaction. “I’m sure they’re really shocked by that Carmy.” You said, sarcastically.

Carmy just chuckled and kissed your forehead.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[vanilladove]

⋆₊ ♱ perv!ghost!nikolai

spooktober 2024 masterlist | divider creds adornedwithlight

ཐི ♱₊ཋྀ pairing: ghost!nikolai x fem!reader

ཐི ♱₊ཋྀ genre: smut headcanons; 18+ only!!

ཐི ♱₊ཋ content warnings: shameless smut/nsfw, mentions of size kink, alcohol + drug use, lowk dubcon, slight angst at end, nikolai’s pov（＾ω＾）

ཐི ♱₊ཋ notes: experimenting with something new lmk if u guys like it or not 😔 kicking off spooktober as an apology for delays; babusya = ukrainian grandma

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who haunts an old apartment near a local circus; who still retains his maniacal trouble maker personality as a ghost

he settled on the apartment after an old babusya let him in and allowed him to stay there, offering his favorite piroshki in exchange for protection from other spirits. he messes with her, but doesn’t do anything too harmful—just some silly pranks

who gets bored after babusya passes away and new tenants move in

he’s really done everything he can to scare the shit out of all the tenants, but they keep coming and leaving—some even having the audacity to try exorcising him (it didn’t work)

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who has an insatiable urge to kill until he sees you, a sweet heartbroken girl, come to the apartment your ex was supposed to live with you in

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who decides to have some fun with you—he hasn’t seen anyone close to his age yet, and no one as pretty and cute as you

he starts small—moving things around, making noise + randomly braiding your hair at night, stealing things from your bags, switching lights on and off, etc.

he gets pissed when you take no notice, only drinking and crying over your stupid, ugly ex—seriously, nikolai saw the pictures of them and thought you could do way better

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who can’t look away from you while you undress before showering, admiring your perfect ass and tits and the soft curves of your body

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who switches your medications/supplements with aphrodisiac pills and waits until you take them while drunk, telling himself he just wants to see a reaction from you, but he has ulterior motives

he watches intensely as you suddenly feel hot and slip your fingers in your bra and panties, touching yourself in a lust-consumed frenzy

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who can’t stop himself from watching you whimper helplessly since the sensations aren’t enough—of course he has to help his little dove out by materializing both hands

he uses one to rub circles around your pretty clit and puts the other one in your mouth, training your throat for his big cock

you're too lost in the drug-fueled lust to pay any mind to the fact his hands appeared out of nowhere—you probably think it's just a sex dream

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who loves how you choke on his fingers, tears of pleasure streaming down your heated face as he inserts his long fingers in your wet pussy, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure as he hits the spots inside that you can’t reach without toys

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who savors the taste of your sweet release on his fingertips before replacing the fingers in your mouth with his cock, pushing it in with little warning

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who gets so fucking turned on by the way you adjust to his size and take him so well, using your hands to pump the length you can’t fit in your mouth

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who rewards his good little girl with his cum, shooting it down into your throat as you swallow every last drop and lick him clean, still aroused

deciding to help you out, he materializes fully and lines his tip up with your entrance, panting because he’s so close to being inside you, his latest obsession

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who pushes himself in your warm cunt, inch by inch, admiring your fucked-out glossy eyes and the arousal stuck on your thighs

he smirks when you suddenly get shy and cover your face, flustered by how attractive he is and how much pressure he’s causing in your insides

who whispers sweet nothings as you whimper from the uncomfortable stretch and assures you that you can take it all, licking the pricking tears from your eyes

he moves your hands away from your face and drags them across his abs and long white braid, occasionally peppering your body with kisses, and braiding stray strands of hair to calm you down while you adjust to his size—he can tell how full you are from the big bulge in your stomach

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who starts moving once you give him a cute nod, moving deep and slow at first until you're more used to his size

he litters kisses around your chest, kitten licking your swollen nipples which he knows are sensitive

he loves the way you slightly buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, occasionally pressing against your stomach and groaning when he can feel himself inside of you

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 breathes heavily against your smooth skin, his large hands around your waist to keep your squirming frame in place

who burrows himself into your neck as his strokes get slower, who tells you to say his name as you chase your own orgasm

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who cums when a soft i love you, nikolai rolls off your tongue, as you mess up his once neat white braid

he collapses gently on top of you--he doesn't remember the last time someone's addressed him so adoringly

he listens intently to your heartbeat, reminding him that you’re alive and he’s dead; his cold figure hugging your warm body

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who strokes your hair and rambles about nothing until you fall asleep, telling himself he's just using you for entertainment, despite the tightness in his chest

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who disappears in the morning but still watches you intently, waiting for another lonely night where he can touch you

[phone4pills]

NAUGHTY LIST DAY 7

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ slow’s advent calendar! blowjob, lowkey kinky, costumes, public sex if you squint, swallowing cum ahhhhhh

“Fuckk… j’s like thaaat…” Chris groaned, throwing back his head as he removed his Santa hat. The two of you had agreed to help out at the local mall for a little cash. He dressed as Santa, you being his elf, and you guys handed out little gifts to all of the children who came to Santa’s Grotto. It was pretty fun and you had gotten free drinks from the smoothie bar nearby. But after hours and hours, Chris was becoming hotter and hotter in his suit. Inevitably, having to take a break.

The two of you had snuck into the little dressing room behind the grotto and you decided to help Chris relieve some of his stress. You sat on his lap, grinding softly, while the two of you made out. Your lips became swollen against his and Chris was becoming more and more needy. One thing led to another and you found yourself on your knees with your hands on both of his thighs, head bobbing on his cock.

His half-lidded eyes became slightly glossing as he watched you take his length, elf ears and all. The little elf skirt you had to wear wasn’t very helpful either, but unfortunately it was the only one available. The little kids weren’t all that bothered, but Chris was. All the men that walked past would peer your way, even some of the dads would glance down for a split second before leading their kids into the den.

He pulled at the makeshift ponytail that was held together by his fist, lifting your face off his dick to get a view of your teary eyes and red lips, foaming at the corners. The sight alone was enough to tip him off the edge as he pushed your head back down onto him. And within a few seconds he was cumming. “Shiiit. Always treatin’ me so good, yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing down the warm semen before leaning back down to kiss his tip. Then you directed your vison up at the boy, staring at him through your lashes with puppy eyes. “I’ve been so good, Santa, will you take me off the naughty list?”

Hey… here ya go guysss, to clarify I’m not into dress up or wtv but I tried. Also this is not proof read. Happy 7th !

- ©phone4pills

[girlokwhatever]

can u do reader coming home drunk after a nightout and paige takes care of her?🥺 (smut or fluff is fine)

𝄞₊ ⊹˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ taking care of you,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

paige is sitting in your shared apartment’s living room when she hears you fumbling with the keys outside. she immediately sets down her textbook, opening the door before you can even find the right key. she’s been expecting your arrival after you texted her a jumble of words, piecing together ‘home’ and ‘soon.’

you went out with a few of your friends from class to a local club, trying to unwind after a stressful few weeks. of course she wanted you to have fun but sometimes if other people were drinking, you tended to do the same. unfortunately for you, you were a lightweight.

“baby!” your eyes gleam at her, wide and glossy. you’re a bit of a bubbly drunk tonight, finding everything funny and somewhat joyful. you smiled at your girlfriend and jumped into her, craving her touch after being away for a few hours.

“hey ma, how was your night? had fun?” she catches you, holding the back of your thighs when you wrap your legs around her. your smile immediately turns to a dramatic frown, bottom lip pouted out. she has to resist the urge to kiss you, settling for the feeling of your body heat on hers.

“this guy was flirting with me paigey,”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah, told ‘em i have a pretty girlfriend already.”

now she’s smiling at you like a dope, pride swelling in her heart at your little story. you’re smiling with pride too, as if you just got told you did a good job. you’re paige’s favorite person in the world, no doubt. so hearing you brag about her is something that makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“how much did you drink?” she’s closing the door now, not missing the smell of alcohol when your soft breath hits her face. you shrug your shoulders because you genuinely have no clue. just from your answer, or lack of one, she knows it was a lot more than you can probably handle for one night.

you drop your legs from around your girlfriend and she lets you, letting go of the grip she has on your thighs. you wobble for a second while you adjust to standing on your own again. paige watches you carefully, slightly concerned at how out of it you seem. she finds herself getting a little angry at your friends for letting you drink so much, but she lets it go because she knows it was all in good fun.

“oh.. wow. that’s not-“ your hands are on your stomach and paige knows what’s about to happen. she’s ushering you to the bathroom, lifting the toilet lid, and pulling any loose hair out of your face. she lets you get it all out, patting your back and telling you it’s ok, the same way she always does. if you weren’t battered drunk it would probably make you blush.

“are you okay?”

you silently nod, already feeling a bit more sober. paige sends you a soft smile, kissing your forehead and pulling away again to turn on the shower. she grabs your pj’s from your room and when she comes back you’re half asleep against the wall.

“baby, gotta get you cleaned up okay?”

now you’re both in the shower together while paige lathers the shampoo and conditioner into your hair. you pleaded with her to get in with you, still not feeling the best. she said yes, tied her hair up in a bun, took off her clothes, and now she’s in here. with you.

she helps you rinse your hair out (she does it without any of your help) and just takes a moment to admire you. it seems you had the same idea though, staring up at paige with doe eyes. she notices you’re not exactly smiling, a light frown taking your features.

“what’s wrong?”

“miss you p,”

“i’m right here”

“yeah but.. you’re in minnesota.”

paige is genuinely shocked at your statement, laughing out loud and throwing her head back at what you said. she was in minnesota for a few days last month and you couldn’t free your schedule enough to go with her, which is what she thinks you’re referring to. of course in your drunk mind you think she’s making fun of you, which only makes you feel worse. you step out of the shower, the cold apartment air making your nipples peak and your body shiver.

paige follows in suit, having to hold her breathe at the sight of you. she jogs to your room, putting her own pajamas on and quickly returning to you.

“baby i’m sorry. don’t be upset please, i wasn’t laughing at you.”

you’re clothed too, standing in between paige and the bathroom counter as she rubs lotion on your back from underneath your shirt. her hands are large and warm, smoothing over your skin with a delicacy that you appreciate. you don’t exactly realize it all the time, but paige does a phenomenal job at taking care of you. especially on nights like this.

“yes you were.”

“ok… i was. but! but- it’s because i was just a little shocked, is all.”

you turn to face her, eyes scanning over her face until you determine how you feel. you try to remember what you even said, but nothing’s popping up so you decide to just forget it.

“feeling better?”

“for a kiss.” paige kisses you, gentle and soft. her hands situated on your hips pull you closer until you’re chest to chest. all of the sudden you’re pulling away with a frantic energy, like you just remembered something of the upmost importance.

“skincare!” you (in true clumsy fashion) try hopping up on the counter. once you fail a few times and then some, paige decides to just lift you herself. she digs through your drawer, not knowing where to start.

you don’t even seem to be in the same universe, eyes closed and legs swaying ever-so little. she decides to just pick a few things, mixing them all together in her hands before smoothing it over your face. it isn’t really her thing, you’re always the one doing it for her and yourself. once she’s satisfied, she taps your legs and kisses your nose. your eyes flutter, giving her a lazy smile.

“ready for bed?”

“mhm”

“brush your teeth first” you groan and she smiles as she walks away, pulling the covers back and throwing extra pillows to the floor. by the time she’s cut all the nights off in the apartment and returned, you’re rinsing your mouth out with water. she notices you’re ever more clumsy than usual, knocking over a few things on the counter and almost tripping over your own feet before she catches you.

“c’mere baby,” paige motions you closer, picking you up and carrying you to your shared bedroom. she lays on her back with you on top of her still, never letting go.

her face nuzzles into your damp, freshly washed hair. your face buries itself into her neck, the slow thump of her pulse helping ground you to reality. you couldn’t ever remember a time being this drunk, but to be fair you couldn’t remember much of anything right now. just that you love paige, and paige loves you.

“hey wait, take this advil and drink some water before you pass out please.” you whine, obviously too comfortable to lift your head.

“no. don’t wanna.”

“for a kiss?”

“…..fine.”

ㅤᵕ̈⋆｡°✩`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹✩°｡✮☾☼

just finished reading like 5 diff kate martin stories on wattpad guys

also this isn’t spell checked pls forgive me

[totallybakedcake]

Boyfriend headcanons kaiju no 8 boys

Reno

Whenever you both are outside training or near anyone, he does nothing more affectionate than holding your hand at most, but when you both are at home, he does not let go of you. Back hugging you and snuggling into you. It's his favorite thing to do.

He loves to be the little spoon while cuddling. He always wants to be in your embrace while sleeping, or else he cannot sleep all night. "Name, can we please cuddle? I had a rough day." He says in such an adorable voice that how could you deny him?

He is a great cook and always makes you mouth-watering dishes to eat all day. He just loves seeing you enjoy his dishes and eat them so cutely.

He loves at-home dates. He just loves watching any movies, shows, or anime you want to watch as he cuddles you. When you both had your anniversary and you were in the mood for something fancy, he decorated the living room with flowers, teddy bears, chocolates, and gifts to surprise you. 

Hoshina

He absolutely loves it when you pamper him with all your affection. Cupping his face. Giving him onslaught kisses, burying your head in his neck. Whenever he thinks about that, His day becomes one of the best.

Hoshina is an overly protective boyfriend. The moment he comes home, he checks your body for any wounds. Whenever he even sees you interact with one of the juniors, he makes sure the both of you don't talk for more than 3 minutes, or else the game is over. He makes sure you feel safe and protective.

Hoshina loves giving you a flower and chocolate every day. He always has a bundle of chocolates with him and goes to a local flower shop to get you any cute flower.

He loves picnic dates and afternoon dates. He loves to take you to a quiet park. Lay down a blanket and rest in your lap as you and him talk for hours and hours. Picnic dates are usually in the morning, as he likes to take you out on brunches too. 

Kafka

He is the most affectionate boyfriend. He gives you many warm hugs every day. He loves to kiss your temple as you relax on top of him.

He loves hearing you talk. Your voice is just so comforting. He brings you to his lap and burys his face in your neck as you talk about anything.

He does not show his jealous side, as he knows you are loyal to him, but one thing he makes sure of is that you have a healthy routine. If he does not know that you have eaten well, slept well, and are drinking plenty of water, he has to check up on you because his mind keeps thinking about you.

Even though he does not look like it. Kafka is a fancy man. He takes you out to fancy restaurants to eat at on dates. He always has a private reservation ready for you and him. After all, your happiness is Kafka's happiness.

Gen

Gen has made you obsessed with gaming too. After all, games are addicting. He got you all kinds of gaming consoles and game figures to play with him.

A lot, meaning everyone asks you. Why choose Gen? An irresponsible captain who has such an attitude and is careless, but what they haven't seen is Gen's soft side. He makes sure you are okay. He cannot focus on anything unless you are safe. Once on a Kaiju mission when you got injured. Gen stayed up all night. Not touching his games or electronics once, as he needed to take care of you and make sure you were safe. Not letting you go on a mission unless you are recovered.

Even if he is loyal. He is the most jealous person ever. He knows your beauty and your aura, which makes people gravitate towards you. So, he makes sure to have you near him at all times, not letting you even talk to a guy in peace.

He loves arcade dates and karaoke dates, but if you don't want to go there, He takes you to amusement parks and water parks. Gen loves an adventure.

Hey yall. First ever post on tumblr so the writing may be tacky and awkward cause I wrote this in the middle of the night but I couldn't stop myself from writing for kaiju no 8 after finishing the whole manga in 4 days.

Have a great day!

[winwintea]

wicked love

PAIRING ↬ non-idol!na jaemin x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ short lived-fluff, romance, TOXICITY, horror, thriller, supernatural, kinda unsettling, SOOO CREEPY, if bad why hot? au, oomfs pointed out this is kinda like wandavision and now i'm realizing it does so maybe wandavision au

WARNINGS ↬ horror, yandere!!! (read at your own risk!)

SUMMARY ↬ his love is perfect. but perfection comes with a price.

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.4k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ guys i think the voices are getting louder (ty to queens @yizhrt @peterm4rker @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading 🙏)

PLAYLIST ↬ rhinestone eyes - gorillaz; nightmares - the boyz; wicked love - yena; doll - gidle; the perfect girl - mareux

YOU NEEDED A FRESH START.

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes. You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. 

The town looks like a postcard-perfect town, almost like you’re staring at a travel brochure rather than the real thing. The cobblestone streets appear to be smoothed down over time. A few locals pass by, nodding at you with warm smiles. 

There’s something about this place. It feels timeless, almost, like it came straight out of your dreams. Maybe this will be home. Maybe it’s exactly the fresh start you need from your damaging past.

Your new apartment, right next to the main square, is perfect. Lace curtains sway gently in the breeze, creating a comfy atmosphere. You unpack your bags, starting to convince yourself this was the right move. A quieter life, far from the chaos you left behind.

The next morning, you walk into your new job at the café, a cute little shop with pastel walls and pastries that look too good to eat. Mrs. Kim, the owner, greets you with a smile that feels practiced but kind.

“Welcome, dear,” she says, her tone both warm and firm. “I can tell you’re nervous, but I have confidence you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

Encouraged by her kind words, you dive into the work, immersing yourself in the comforting rhythm of brewing coffee and arranging pastries. Simplicity is desperately needed.

Then the bell over the door chimes, and you glance up ready to greet your next customer. But what you see makes you freeze in place.

A man walks in with confidence, his dark eyes surveying the room before landing on you. His presence is drawing, his sharp cheekbones and warm smile seem to stand out in this quiet little town. For a moment, it feels like the entire café is holding its breath, waiting for him to order.

“Americano, please,” he says, his voice smooth but casual. His gaze doesn’t cease, even as you fumble slightly while writing his name on his drink. ‘Jaemin’. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

“You’re new,” he states, not a question but an observation, his head tilted slightly as if he’s trying to read you.

You nod, flustered. “Just moved in yesterday.”

He continues to smile. “I’m happy to run into you then. Welcome.”

Instead of leaving, Jaemin takes a seat by the window, sipping his coffee while his attention drifts back and forth between you and the window. His gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks turn red. 

When your shift ends, you’re surprised to see him outside, leaning casually against the lamppost. The setting sun just adds to the beautiful sight right in front of you.

“I thought I’d walk you home,” his eyes steady, with some concern. “It’s getting late.”

The streets are quiet, and there doesn’t seem to be much danger present. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to decline. You nod, and he falls into step beside you.

As the two of you start to walk, he asks questions about you. How was your move, your life before this, what made you pick this town? He listens intently, hanging on to every word as though you’re the most fascinating person in the world. You tell him more than you planned to, and it isn’t until you see the intrigued look on his face that you realize how much you shared.

“What about you?” you ask, shifting the focus on him instead. “Have you been here long?”

“Long enough to know I was waiting for you.”

The line is so smooth it catches you off guard, and your face flushes as he laughs. His laugh is soft and such a pleasing sound that you realize you want to hear it again and again.

The next few weeks with Jaemin feel even more like a fairytale. He seems to appear everywhere. Waiting for you outside the café after your shifts, showing up with your favorite snacks and drinks, surprising you with gifts he claims “just made me think of you.”

One evening, he shows up at your door holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” he says, handing them to you with a grin. “Thought you might need these.”

The flowers seem flawless and smell wonderful. You let him in your apartment, your heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness.

Over time, you notice how precise his attention is. He seems to know exactly what you need. When you mention being cold, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word. When you casually mention a book you’ve been wanting to read ever since you saw it in the library, it shows up on your doorstep the next day with a small note attached to it.

One evening, he takes you to a small park outside of town. A picnic is already waiting. Jaemin is sitting there on a blanket waiting for you to arrive.

“How did you pull this off?” you ask, laughing as you sit down. “It’s like you read my mind.” Just a few days ago, you read a chapter in your book in which the two main characters had also gone on a similar date.

Jaemin grins as he pours you a glass of sparkling cider. “I just know you. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Knowing someone better than they know themselves.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, though you force a smile. You’re not sure why they unsettle you. It’s sweet, isn’t it? That he knows you so well?

As you sit together, Jaemin leans back on his elbows, watching you. “You’re perfect,” he says quietly. “I’ve never met anyone like you. It’s like... you’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

The intensity of his gaze makes you look away, your cheeks heating. But something in his tone feels too polished, almost like he’s practiced it. You brush it off, telling yourself you’re overthinking.

It’s when you go out in town together that you start to notice how people act around him.

At the bakery, Mrs. Kim’s hands tremble as she rings up his order. Her smile is forced, and she avoids looking him in the eye.

After you leave, you curiously ask Jaemin about that interaction, “Was that... normal? She seemed kind of scared of you.”

Jaemin shrugs, brushing it off. “She’s just shy. Some people are like that.”

You’re not convinced, Mrs. Kim never seemed shy when the two of you worked together. But his casual tone makes it hard to push, so you let it slide for now.

—

Later, at the market, a man accidentally bumps into Jaemin, knocking over a fruit display. The man’s face seems to pale as he stammers out apologies, frantically trying to fix the mess. Jaemin couldn’t control the scowl that emerged on his face, as the man scurried away.

You lean toward Jaemin, whispering, “It was just an accident. You don’t need to glare at him like that.”

Jaemin turns to you, smiling again. “I wasn’t glaring,” he says calmly. “People here are just... respectful. They know better than to be careless.”

The edge in his voice makes your stomach twist, but you’re unsure how to respond.

—

That evening, when he takes you back to your apartment, you decide to bring it up again. “Jaemin, do you notice how nervous people are around you? It’s like they’re scared of you or something.” 

Jaemin pauses, and for a split second, you swear that his image cracked before snapping back into place. “It’s not fear,” he says, his tone even. “It’s respect. People here understand boundaries. They treat each other the right way. Don’t you feel it? Safer, calmer, happier?”

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel like he’s waiting for you to agree. You nod slowly, though a part of you doesn’t want to. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just... different from what I’m used to.”

Jaemin steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s why you belong here,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again.”

The way he says it makes your breath hitch. They’re comforting, but there’s a weight to his words that leaves you uneasy.

—

Later that night, lying in bed, you replay the day’s events in your head—Mrs. Kim’s trembling hands, the man at the market, and the way Jaemin’s smiles sometimes feel too sharp, too practiced, too unsettling. You try to tell yourself it’s nothing, that you’re just adjusting to this new place, this new life, and a new relationship. But deep down, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have. Something about Jaemin and this town feels off. The cracks are starting to form.

It’s the little things at first.

The mirror above your dresser shatters without warning while you’re brushing your hair, splintering your reflection. You freeze, staring at your fragmented reflection. It almost looks like your face is splintering apart. You reach out, your hand hovering just inches from the broken surface. 

The door suddenly swings open, and Jaemin who was staying the night appears, his expression calm. “What happened?” He reaches out to stop your fingers from touching the broken glass.

“I don’t know.” you stammer. “It just… cracked. I didn’t even touch it” You shook your head, trying to process what you just saw. 

He steps forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he examines the mirror. “It’s probably old. I’ll get you a new one. Don’t worry about it.” But something about his tone that makes you feel like he’s brushing it off on purpose. 

Later, you catch him staring at the shattered mirror, his reflection fragmented into dozens of pieces.

—

The next time you’re at Jaemin’s house while walking through the hallway, you notice the wallpaper seemingly peeling at the edges. Stepping closer seems to reveal a dark surface beneath. Your fingers trace along the seam absentmindedly, curiosity getting the best of you. When you gently tug the loose edge, a chunk tears free, exposing the wood underneath. It was blackened and warped, as though it’s been rotting for years.

You stare at it, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. How could a house so immaculate have something like this hidden beneath its surface?

“What are you doing?”

You whirl around, the scrap of wallpaper still in your hand as you turn to face Jaemin in the hallway. He’s standing behind you, quiet and still. “It was already peeling,” you say quickly. “I just wanted to see what was underneath.”

His eyes flicker to the exposed wood, then back to you. For a split second, his face seems to literally crack almost like his face was supposedly ceramic, before mending itself together. “I’ll fix it. You don’t need to worry about things like this.”

He steps closer, gently taking the torn wallpaper from your hands. His touch is light and tender, but the air feels different now.

“You shouldn’t bother with things that aren’t important,” Jaemin says softly, his tone almost pleading. “Just focus on us. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

You nod, but as he turns away, you notice his grip on the torn wallpaper tighten, his knuckles whitening as he walks down the hall.

—

The cracks aren’t just in the walls or the mirrors. They’re in him, too, and maybe you weren’t hallucinating when you saw his skin actually crack.

One night, you’re sitting together in his living room, the fireplace filling the room with warmth. Jaemin’s hand is wrapped around yours, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against your skin.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve this. You. You’re too perfect for someone like me.”

You laugh softly, brushing off his words. “You’re being dramatic again.”

He looks at you then, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world spins. His eyes are dark, almost bottomless, and there’s something lurking there—something raw and desperate, as though he’s holding on to you with every ounce of his being. Jaemin’s voice trembles slightly. “I mean it. You don’t understand how much you matter to me. I can’t lose you.”

There’s an intensity in his words that makes your heart race, but not in the way it usually does. You try to look away, but his grip on your hand tightens, not painfully, but enough to make you pause.

Then his expression changes. His smile fades, and his face hardens. The cracks start to appear again, this time more obvious than before.

You pull your hand away slightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Jaemin. You don’t have to worry about that.”

His smile returns instantly, the cracks once again vanishing as though they had never been there. “I know. I just get... carried away sometimes.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but even as his lips brush your skin, the unease still lingers.

—

It gets worse after that. The cracks spread everywhere. Not just to the mirrors and walls, but to everything in the town. One night, the streetlight outside your building starts flickering which casts shadows across the pavement. The ground seems to ripple as if the cobblestones were water rather than stone. 

When you tell Jaemin about it, he dismisses it with that too-smooth tone you’ve come to dread.

“You’ve been working too much. You need to rest. You’re probably just really tired.”

But you know what you saw.

—

The tipping point comes when you’re alone at his house again. You’re standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, the edges of the glass framed by intricate gold. As you stare at your reflection, the surface begins to distort. Slowly, your features start stretching unnaturally, twisting your perception. You blink, and the image snaps back to normal.

But when you look closer, you realize your reflection isn’t blinking anymore. It’s staring at you, unblinking and unmoving, a faint smile curling at the corners of its lips.

“Stop looking so hard.”

You spin around to find Jaemin standing in the doorway, his eyes darker than usual.

He smiles at you faintly, “Some things aren’t meant to be questioned.”

His words echo in your mind long after he leaves the room. You stare at the mirror again, but this time, you don’t dare move closer.

The first argument starts late at night, the room dimly lit, with untouched plates of food between the two of you. Your frustration finally boils over after weeks of feeling watched, cornered, and controlled.

You stand up suddenly. “I need space, Jaemin. I can’t keep doing this.”

His smile vanishes, replaced by something unreadable. He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, his gaze pierces through you. “Space? From me?”

You nod, your voice shaking. “Yes. From you, from... this. I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. Everything’s too... perfect. It doesn’t feel real.”

For a moment, Jaemin says nothing. His jaw tightens, and his fingers drum against the table. When he finally speaks, his tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it that sends a chill through you. “After everything I’ve done for you, you want to leave?”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving,” you start, trying to explain, “I’m just saying I need–”

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His voice rises, cutting you off. “You don’t need anything! I’ve given you everything! This town, this life, me... Isn’t that enough for you?”

You take a step back, started by his outburst. You can literally hear your heart pounding now. His sudden anger feels like a slap in the face, shattering the careful illusion of calm he’s always maintained. “You’re not listening to me, Jaemin. I never asked for this perfect little world you’ve created. I just wanted you.”

That seems to break something in him. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You need this. You need me. Without me, you’d be miserable. Lost.” He moves closer, his face contorting with a mixture of frustration and desperation.

You shake your head, tears blurring your vision. “No, Jaemin. That’s what you want me to believe.”

His expression darkens further, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed mask—the raw emotion, the fury barely contained beneath his flawless exterior. “Don’t do this. Don’t ruin everything. This is our paradise. Our dream.” His words come out frantic as if he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

“Paradise?” You step further back, your voice still firm. “This isn’t paradise, Jaemin. This is a prison.”

And that’s when Jaemin snaps.

“You don’t get it!” His voice is sharp as it rings through the house. “Paradise is only perfect if you don’t leave!”

The words crash over you, the weight of their meaning sinking into your chest. His voice echoes in your mind, melodic and haunting, like a line from a song you can’t escape.

“I am your paradise. Your dream. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Why can’t you just see that? Why can’t you just stay?” His voice breaks on the last word, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. 

But then his expression hardens again, the desperation twisting into something darker and terrifying.

“I won’t let you ruin this,” he growls, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you won’t stay willingly, I’ll make sure you don’t leave. You’re mine, and nothing will ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in. “Jaemin... this isn’t love.”

The words seem to shatter him. His face contorts with rage, his hands slowly balling into fists at his sides. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare.”

You take another step back, your eyes darting toward the door, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’ve never felt this kind of fear before.

“You don’t understand. I am love. Everything else is broken, but I’m perfect. For you. For us.” The air between you is heavy, suffocating. Jaemin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes wild.

The words hang in the air, a chilling reminder that the man you thought you knew isn’t the man standing in front of you anymore. 

—

The morning after your argument, you decide to leave. You don’t even know where you’ll go—just that you need to get out of this suffocating place, away from Jaemin and his unnerving obsession.

You pack a small bag with trembling hands, glancing nervously out the window. The streets outside are eerily quiet, the friendliness of the town somehow feels more oppressive than ever.

As you step out of your apartment, your heart sinks. Jaemin is leaning casually against the streetlamp in front of your building, his hands in his pockets and his ever-perfect smile in place.

“Going somewhere, love?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You force yourself to stay calm, clutching the strap of your bag tighter. “I need some time to myself.”

He tilts his head, studying you intently. “Time to yourself? That doesn’t sound like you. Where would you even go?”

The question catches you off guard. He’s right… you’ve never seen anything beyond this town. …Have you? You don’t even know if there is anything beyond this town. You’ve never ventured out of this town. You’ve lived here all your life. With Jaemin. Just Jaemin.

The thought sends a jolt through you. What is happening?

You shake it off, your voice firmer now. “Anywhere but here, Jaemin. I need to think.”

For a moment, his smile falters. But then it’s back, brighter than ever and more unsettling. “You don’t need to leave to think. Stay here. Let me help you.”

You shake your head, stepping past him, but his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist–not harshly, but enough to stop you in place.

“Don’t do this, Y/N. You’ll regret it.”

You wrench your arm free and start walking, as your heart continues to pound in your chest. His voice follows you, soft and calm yet terrifyingly firm.

“You’ll be back. You always come back. You can never escape.”

—

The next few days are a nightmare. No matter where you go, Jaemin is there. You spot him in the café, sitting in the same seat he first approached you in, watching you with that same perfect smile. He’s waiting outside your apartment when you get home from work, leaning against the doorframe like he belongs there.

You even see him in places he shouldn’t be—on the other side of the street when you’re at the grocery store, standing in the shadows of an alley when you’re walking to clear your mind.

You confront him once, your patience snaps. “Are you following me? What the hell, Jaemin?”

He just smiles, tilting his head like you’ve said something funny. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know. To keep you safe.”

It’s infuriating, how calm he is, how he manages to twist every accusation into a declaration of his “love.”

It’s not just Jaemin. The entire town seems to conspire against you. The people smile too widely, their eyes never quite meeting yours. Conversations feel hollow like they’re reciting lines from a script rather than speaking from the heart.

At the market, the woman at the counter refuses to sell you a bus ticket.

“What do you mean, there’s no way out?”

“There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” she says, her tone unnervingly kind. “Everything you need is here.”

Her words echo Jaemin’s, and a sickening realization begins to settle in. You leave the market, your chest tight with frustration and fear.

Even your apartment feels wrong. The walls seem to close in on you, the air growing heavier. You swear you hear whispers late at night, but when you check, no one is there.

—

The final straw comes one night when you confront Jaemin in his house. You storm into his pristine living room, the air thick with tension.

“What is going on, Jaemin? Why is everyone acting like this? Why can’t I leave this town?”

He’s seated calmly on the couch, his hands resting on his knees. When he looks up, his perfect smile is in place, but this time, it carries an edge of something darker. “Why would you want to leave? Everything here is perfect. You’re perfect. We’re perfect.”

“Stop saying that!” you shout, your voice trembling. “Nothing about this is perfect. It’s all fake!”

His expression hardens slightly, though the smile remains. “Fake? Is that what you think? You think the life I built for us is fake?”

You freeze, the weight of his words sinking in. “What do you mean... ‘built’?”

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he’s giving you time to process. “This town, the people, everything you see—it’s all for you. For us. I created it because I knew you needed something better. Something perfect.”

Your stomach drops, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s... that’s not possible.” 

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. A world where you don’t have to worry, where nothing can hurt you. I’ve even given you pieces of myself—my love, my time, my devotion. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Your voice shakes as you respond. “This isn’t happiness, Jaemin. This is control.”

His jaw tightens, the cracks in his composure finally showing. “No. No, you’re wrong. This is love. I’ve made it perfect for you. Don’t you see? You don’t have to fight anymore. Just... let go.”

You back away, your mind racing. Everything starts to make sense now—the way people seem hollow, the strange cracks in the world, the way Jaemin always seems to know your every thought.

The truth suddenly dawns on you. “Even me... You’ve been controlling me, haven’t you?”

He hesitates. The silence stretches for a moment too long before he replies, his voice softer, almost pleading. “I didn’t want to control you. I just wanted to protect you. To keep you here, where it’s safe. You’re... you’re slipping away from me, Y/N. And if you go, this world will crumble. I can’t let that happen.”

His words are a plea and a threat all at once, and for the first time, you see him for what he truly is: not just a possessive lover, but the creator of this fragile, crumbling reality.

You spend the next few days searching for an escape, though you’re not entirely sure what “escape” even means in this twisted, fabricated reality. The cracks in the world are growing more pronounced—literal fissures splitting the pavement, flickers of darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, and moments where the townspeople freeze mid-motion, like broken puppets.

And Jaemin? He’s watching you closer than ever, though he never confronts you outright. You can feel his eyes on you wherever you go, a shadow that clings to your every step.

One night, while Jaemin is out, you find it—a journal hidden beneath a loose floorboard in your apartment. The pages are filled with strange symbols, diagrams, and what looks like fragmented memories of Jaemin’s thoughts.

One entry catches your eye:

"The anchor must never break. She is the key to keeping the world whole. Without her, there’s nothing."

Your heart races as you piece it together. You’re not just a prisoner in Jaemin’s world—you’re the foundation of it. If you can sever your connection to this place, the entire illusion might collapse. But how?

—

You decide you have to confront him. But not to beg or plead for your freedom—that won’t work. Jaemin is too possessive, too desperate to let you go willingly. No, you’ll have to trick him into believing that you’ve finally given in.

The next evening, you find him at his house. He’s in the living room, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. His expression is distant, almost melancholic.

“Jaemin?”

He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you, the sadness replaced by his usual serene smile. “Y/N. I was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

You force yourself to smile, stepping closer. “You were right. About everything. I’ve been fighting against you, against this... and I don’t know why. It’s perfect here. You’re perfect.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in them. “You mean that?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been scared. But I see it now—you love me more than anyone ever could. You’ve built this world for me, and I want to stay.” You reach out to his hand.

His grip tightens on your hand, his smile growing as he pulls you into his arms. “I knew you’d understand. I knew you’d see how much I love you.”

You let him hold you, burying your face against his chest to hide the fear and repulsion you know must be showing on your face.

—

Over the next few days, you pretend to settle into the life Jaemin has crafted for you. You let him dote on you, let the townspeople’s eerie smiles wash over you without flinching. All the while, you gather the pieces you need.

You find an old map in the library, one that shows a strange, unfinished road on the outskirts of town. You overhear snippets of conversation from the townspeople—hushed whispers about “the edge” and “the boundary.”

And then, one night, you’re ready.

You and Jaemin are sitting together in his living room, the fire casting warm light across the walls. You rest your head on his shoulder, your voice is soft and trembling. “There’s just one thing I need to feel... whole.”

“Anything, my love. Just tell me.” He looks down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Take me to the edge of the town. I want to see where it all ends. I want to understand this world you’ve made for me.”

His expression falters. “The edge isn’t important. Everything you need is right here.”

You sit up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes pleading. “Please, Jaemin. I want to see it with you. I want to understand your love fully. Don’t you want me to?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he nods reluctantly. “If that’s what you want.”

—

He drives you to the edge of town in silence, his grip on the steering wheel tight. The road grows darker the further you go, the world outside the car fading into an inky void.

When he stops, the road ahead simply... ends. Beyond it is nothingness, a swirling expanse of black that seems to pulse and writhe.

“This is as far as it goes. There’s nothing out there. Nothing but chaos.”

You step out of the car, your heart racing. “It’s beautiful.”

Jaemin watches you carefully as you approach the edge.

You turn back to him. “Thank you for showing me this. I... I trust you.”

For a moment, his face softens, and you see his vulnerability once again beneath the perfection. “You mean everything to me. You always have.”

As his attention wavers, you make your move. You sprint toward the edge, your bag clutched tightly in your hands.

Jaemin notices and panics. “Y/N! Stop!”

He now stands in front of you, his usually perfect expression unhinged, desperation seeping through every word. “You can’t leave. You don’t understand what’s out there. It’s chaos. Pain. No one will love you like I do. No one will protect you like I have.”

“This isn’t love, Jaemin. This is a prison. You don’t love me—you love the idea of me, the version you can control. But I’m not yours to keep.”

He steps closer, his once-gentle eyes are now sharp, glinting with anger and fear. “If you leave, you’ll regret it. Out there, you’ll be nothing. A speck. Here, you’re everything. My everything.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the house begins to shudder. The cracks spread faster now, the walls peeling to reveal nothingness beyond. This world is breaking apart, and so is he. “I’d rather be nothing than lose myself to you.”

Jaemin’s expression softens for a brief moment—hurt flashing across his face. He reaches for you, his hand trembling as if he’s trying to hold on to what’s slipping away.

“Please… don’t go. You’ll die out there. This place… it’s all I have.”

But you’ve already made your choice. You step back, closer to the edge of the crumbling reality. The air feels thin, the edges of the world curling in on themselves like burning paper. Behind Jaemin, you see the town collapsing—the people disintegrating into ash, their empty smiles vanishing with them.

With one last look at him, you whisper, “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

And then you leap into the void.

Life had been okay after you escaped. Moving again would’ve been the best option in this case. 

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes.

You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. The town looks clean, almost like it was plucked straight from a storybook or a carefully curated dream. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, reassuring yourself that this was exactly what you wanted. A fresh start. A clean break from everything you left behind.

You set your bag down and begin unpacking, each item you pull out grounding you a little more in this place. A simpler life. A quieter life. That’s what you need, far from the chaos of before.

The next morning, you step into your new job at the café. It’s a quaint little shop with pastel walls and rows of pastries so perfect they could be in a magazine. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug.

The owner greets you with a wide smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her voice is both kind and commanding. “Welcome, dear,” she says. “I can tell you’re nervous, but you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

As you settle into the rhythm of the café, you notice how everything is perfectly simple. You glance out the window, and for a split second, you think you see a figure standing at the edge of the square.

Your breath catches, but when you blink, the figure is gone. You shake your head and return to wiping down the counter.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Just nerves. After all, this is the fresh start you wanted.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip

apologies for the trauma. you are all entitled to no financial compensation. hope you enjoyed your stay!

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | grateful - j.m.

kinktober day nine - cockwarming

pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

wc: 2.17k

summary: being joel's girlfriend meant you saw sides of him no one else ever saw. one of them was how he just loved to be in your presence, to feel you, to touch you — to be buried inside of you.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS ARE NOT WELCOMED!!! NO AGE = BLOCKED. mentions of violence and sexual violence *if you blink you will miss it it's not a main theme!*, mentions if blood, dirty talk, p in v, cockwarming, slight somno.

an: gosh im so behind on this but i WILL catch up. i have a concert tmrw im very excited! also this one is very short, but i still love it 🥹

reblogs, likes & comments are so very appreciated i love u guys 🥹

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ °｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT it meant to be in a relationship – with joel. somehow, years after you got lost with the group you’d traveled with for months, you ended up in the midst of a bunch of men on horses pointing their guns at you. 

one of them being joel, and his brother. you were cut up, bloodied and bruised, in the freezing winter with hardly anything on. you remembered looking around you at the men that circled you, your hands raised but just barely because you had a stab wound on your left shoulder, crying. 

“please, i, i can leave just, please don’t kill me, i’ll go,” you cried frantically. 

every thought was going through your mind right now. you were half naked, shivering and near frostbite basically, the only thing warming you up would be the blood pouring from your wounds. there were only two things that could happen. 

they’ll trap you, have their way with you, then leave you for dead. or, they shoot you because they think you’re infected. 

“please don’t hurt me, i’m, i’m not infected, i swear.” you sobbed, looking down at your knees that felt numb being buried in the snow. 

you heard a shuffle, then something hit the floor, and the crunch of snow under a pair of boots. until you saw them right in front of you, and the person lowered themselves down to your height. 

the man tilted your chin up with his glove-covered fingers, and made you look at him. 

“you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of, come on, we’ll get ya some clothes,” 

and that was it. joel was the one who kept you away from the men that stared you down like a piece of meat that day, he kept you away from tommy, who kept telling him it was a bad idea. but quickly referenced when he and ellie came into town, and they took them in like nothing. 

he kept you safe. and he let you stay with him for the time being, until you managed to find a job down at the local bar. then, the two of you kind of went your separate ways. you found a little house at the corner that tommy told joel to give you, and managed to live by yourself for the year you were there. 

joel didn’t want you on patrol routes, or to forage for things that the town needed. he needed you safe, even when he wasn’t there. 

you hadn’t talked to joel, but he managed to come to the tipsy bison every friday, sitting at the bar by himself and watching you. 

“you know,” you start as you are cleaning the beer glasses and wiping down the sticky table after closing. joel was the only one still there. 

“you come here every friday, ever since i started working here, but everyone i’ve ever heard from tells me you like to drink alone. in the comfort of your own house,” you said, wiping the bar down in front of him. 

“jus’ makin’ sure you ain’t in no trouble over here,” he mumbled behind his last drink, downing the rest of the mahogany liquid. he did a subtle look down your shirt as you wiped the bar down in circles, watching your cleavage come into view. 

you just chuckled. “i think i’ll be okay. i promise you’ll be the first one i go to if i need help.” 

that made a small smile tug on his lips. 

“let me walk ya home,” 

so he did. except he didn’t leave after that. that night, the two of you drank a little more at your place, and things got a little heated. in the midst of stretching you out for the very first time, he was whispering things you would’ve claimed were little nothings, but seemed as if he was declaring his need for you. 

“fuck baby, tell me, whose pussy is this? who else is stretchin’ ya out like this?” 

“pretty fuckin’ girl, i swear i’ll fuckin’ kill for ya, won’t let nobody come near ya,” 

“you ain’t leavin’ me, darlin’. this pussy is fuckin’ mine,” 

and you never did, and he always kept his promise. four years later, after him being the one to fix your wounds and give you clothes, a place to stay — you lived with him. ellie ended up being able to take patrol routes occasionally, moving into a small house with dina. she was even glad he had someone to look after him, to take care of him as he cared for everyone. 

joel had just came in towards the end of the night from patrolling with tommy, mumbling about how he’s sort of an idiot. you could barely hear his banter from your bedroom, ears perking up at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed.

“baby?” you called out from the bedroom as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. his eyes searched for you in the darkness of the living room, until he ended up walking to the back hall to the room you both slept in. 

his face softened, giving a little smile as he walked over to you and plopped on the bed next to you. the force almost made you drop the book you were reading, so you dog-eared the page and put it on the table as you turned to curl into him. 

“you smell like outside,” you said as you crinkled your nose. 

“fuckin’ tommy, stressin’ me out. he wanted t’ stay longer for maria just in case but it was a fuckin’ ghost town, nothin’ was even there, but he’s fuckin’ stubborn.” 

you just sighed and let your face rest on his chest as his arm threw over behind you, rubbing the side of your body. “well, you’re home now.” 

he sighed, taking a swig from the beer and moved to put it on the bedside table. he just threw his head back, used his forearm to cover his eyes and breathe in and out. you just looked at him, a little empathetic. 

you started to kiss his chest, the one with the dirty shirt he wore to patrol and up his body, to his neck and jaw. with the movements, you swiftly swung your leg over one side and straddled him, making his arm move and his head tilting down to get a look at you. 

you just watched him, watching you, and smiled as you sat directly on his groin. 

“i know you’re stressed, but,” you started and rubbed over his tummy and pecs, “i need you.” 

you said with lust in your eyes, and he just smirked as he watched you reach under his shirt to feel the warmth of his body. 

“my baby needs me, ‘s that right?” he asked lowly, his voice sounding raspy and gruff. his hands rested on the width of your hips, loving the way you were so curvy and plush for him.

you just nodded, and moved to where you could unbuckle his pants and try to shimmy them down with his help. after you got his pants and boxers to his knees, you spit in your hand and gripped the shaft of his half hard cock. 

“i love you,” you said as you started to feel him harden in your hands, his own hands moving to the tank top you had on and yanking the fabric down to see your breasts. 

“you know i love you, baby,” he said and reached to play with your heavy breasts, tugging your nipple and playing with both of them so he could watch them peak. 

“i’m just real tired, honey,” he started as he felt your grip on his cock soften, and watched your face turn with disappointment until he grabbed your face and made you look at him. 

“you wanna help me out, darlin’?” he asked and you nodded with your eyebrows furrowed, “alright then, come lay down right here,” 

he patted the side of the bed that you slept on, and you let go of his cock before pouting and sliding down to the side next to him. you faced the opposite direction, facing the wall as you heard him get up and start taking all of his clothes off before sliding under the blankets with you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby, such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you have,” he said in your ear as he pulled you flush to his back, gripping your asscheeks before pulling one cheek apart from the other, feeling the wetness you gathered at your cunt. 

“always so wet f’ me, always so good to me,” he breathed on your neck. he felt your legs move apart so he’d have more access, and he just smiled, kissing on your shoulder. 

you didn’t know what he was planning on doing until you felt him guide the tip of his fully hard length up and down your cunt, still using one hand to move the thickness of your ass so he’d have access to your juices.

“joel,” you whined and moved your hips back to his, and finally felt his tip slip inside of you. 

“please,” you begged as he stretched you completely, feeling full even as he’s halfway. 

he lifts the blankets to watch you take him from behind, watching how his cock the was lathered with your juices as he thrusts softly into you before he bottoms out completely. 

but he doesn’t move, and instead kisses on your shoulder before going to your back, kissing there and wrapping his arm around your waist to rest on the fat of your tummy. 

“wait, joel i-” you started before he just squeezed your breast, leaving his hand to rest there. 

“mm-mm, we’re goin’ to sleep,” he said, but the feeling of his cock being buried inside of you was too distracting. you couldn’t sleep. 

“but joel,” you whined, your hand resting on top of his as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. 

“go to sleep, i promise i’ll give you want you want baby, jus’ let me feel you like this, yeah?” he asks and you involuntarily moan a little, your movements of trying to fuck back on his cock failing. 

“i love feelin’ you like this, sweet girl. could be buried in this fuckin’ cunt for years,” he whispered as he squeezed your tit again, “you fit me so fuckin’ perfectly,” 

“i love when you fill me up, joel,” you whispered ss you hugged his arm, leaving kisses on it and making joel smile against your skin. 

“aw, my baby, loves when i just keep you on my cock, just so i can feel you. love when you keep me warm inside that little fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and you whined, trying to squirm and get some movement in. 

he just holds you tight, not letting you move. the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim made your cunt clench, and he groaned at the feeling. you felt like you were suffocating, practically feeling his cock in your throat as he just laid there behind you and kissed your skin. 

“go to sleep, baby. i promise i’ll make ya cum over n’ over til’ i gotta leave,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the proposition.you knew he was telling the truth, because he’s done it before. 

he’s made you soak the sheets before it even hit six in the morning, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and ravishing in it. the best thing he could ever do with his time is watch you fall apart because of him, and make you feel good. 

so, you fell asleep with him still inside of you, feeling the dull throb of his cock and your cunt mixed together, the feeling of when he would move to pull you closer because he slipped out of you a little bit. 

he craved you, even in his sleep. 

and the next morning when he woke up, he was still buried inside of you and looked at where you two connected, seeing the pool of your arousal leaking onto him, and on the bed. 

so he kept his promise, and used the newfound arousal you built up to slide out of you, and slide right back in. until you woke up, and tightened on his cock as he fucked you awake. 

joel was obsessed with you, and that meant if he could have you sitting on his cock while he did his day to day things, he would. and he’s tried. but feeling you soak him, squeeze him and cry out for him made him feel a whole other type of gratuity. 

you were grateful he was the one that took you in, he was the one that cared for you and protected you, and he was grateful that you let him walk you home that night, grateful that you only trusted him and not anyone else. 

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TAGLIST

@awilderi @nerdieforpedro @cyb3rluvvxx @joelmillers-girl @pedritoferg @bethanymccauley @dirtydianaahah

let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 🍒

Sometimes love doesn't make sense.

Tags/Warnings: Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook, Pastel!Reader, opposites attract, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, suggestive flirting, adult themes but no smut, consensual hand holding

Length: ~4k

There is no taglist for this fic.

Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🍒── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Uhm-" you wonder, stepping inside the store to be greeted by the guy you know as Jimin.

"Hi, my friend has an appointment?" you say, and the artist stands up and walks closer. Your friend stays close to you, buzzing with the excitement of getting her first tattoo ever- too shy to say anything.

When it comes to that, you're a little ahead of her. As long as the person isn't intimidating, you're fine talking to them, asking for help or anything alike.

"Yeah, it was the dragon on her back, right?" and your friend nods. "I've got it all prepared already. Wanna come downstairs with me, I'll explain the rest of it there?" Jimin kindly says, taking her coat and leading her downstairs where you assume everyone works. "Oh, you can just wait in the back there, or stroll around town. It'll take a while." he says, and you nod, a bit unsure now after being left alone.

"Hm?" a voice chimes up, before he speaks again. "Oh, Thought I heard something." the guy comes into view, and suddenly you can't talk.

This is what you can't talk to.

Intimidating? Heavy boots and black clothes, silver chains and piercings and a fully inked sleeve including his hand present themselves to you, muscles free since he's only wearing a black sleeveless top that should be illegal for him to wear. His smile is the friendliest you've ever seen, reaching his eyes and his slightly wild hair just makes him look even better, sides buzzed down to mere millimeters left- you want to disappear from the earth and his memory forever.

Fuck. He's looking like every goth-girl's wet dream while you're dressed in a pastel colored dress and thick knee high socks to keep your feet warm in this cold weather. Great.

"You can sit here in the back with me, otherwise you'll catch a cold from all the cold air blowing in every time the door opens." he recommends, pointing to a couch in a corner that you assume is where they all spend their breaks. Awesome, he's a gentleman as well it seems, making it all even worse for you. "You want something to drink? I've got tea or coffee." he wonders, and you meekly press out a 'tea, please.', making him chuckle.

He probably thinks you're nothing more than a child, with the way you look so out of place.

You envy your friend in that department. She's got piercings, she knows cool friends, she has exciting stories to tell. Meanwhile you sit at home and knit sweaters and blankets, help out at the local animal shelter because you get to pet the cats and dogs all day, or work at the library where you aid tourists find the town's guide.

"Your friend was the tall girl, right?" he asks, coming in with two cups, one of which he sets down on front of you. "I'm Jungkook by the way." he introduces himself, smiling before he leans back in his seat. Of course he's interested in her, you think. She's exactly his type, though he looks quite a few years older than her.

Well- the least you can do is help her find a date.

"Ah, yeah, she's my friend. Best friend." you say, pulling the cup of tea closer. "Thank you, for the tea." you say politely, and he grins in front of you.

"No problem." he waves off.

"She's uh.. She works at a car-uh.. She does those paint jobs. Like, those complicated one's that look realistic and all that." you try and explain. "I.. Forgot what it's called though. But uhm.. You can ask her later maybe?" you say, and he shrugs, setting down his cup before he smirks impishly, tongue playing with his lip ring in a manner that you can only describe as illegal.

"I probably could do that-" he starts, before he tilts his head a little to the side, body leaning forward. "-but I'd rather get to know you a little more." he wonders, and you almost choke on your tea- but you're composing yourself. "Maybe I could start by asking if you've got a boyfriend?"

Well, so much for composing yourself.

Your wide eyes look at him scandalized, and he giggles at the sight of it. "I- uh, no, I mean no I don't have one, to be honest-" you laugh a bit nervously. "-guys don't.. I- most guys don't really look my way, you know. So I thought, you know, considering-" you motion up and down towards him, "-you'd be more interested in my friend." you ramble, and he just shakes his head, smiling.

"I mean, she seems nice- but, I don't know either." he shrugs. "Something about you- it's hard to explain."

You shift a little on the spot now, unsure what to do in a situation like this. Typically, you shut down guys quickly, scared of what's to come. But you also don't want to keep doing exactly that- not when you've got the chance of something right in front of you like that. For the first time, someone's actively interested in you. Someone who seems nice, that is.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, by the way." Jungkook suddenly rips out of your thoughts. He leans back again, giving you space, and it makes you feel a little deflated. Did you blow it already? Oh god you screwed it over, didn't you?

"No, you're not, don't worry." you say, looking down. "I just.. I'm not used to this. I'm usually always the wingman instead- or.. Wing-woman?" you think, and he laughs.

"Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." he says, still friendly. "So, I'm wondering- any tattoos? Piercings?" he wonders, and you nod- instantly making his eyes sparkle in interest. "Oh- can I ask what it is, or do you want to let me find out later?" he says, and you instantly turn red, making him laugh. "Sorry, sorry- I'll stop, promise." he waves off. "..for now."

You laugh at his antics, unable to keep a straight face by now. "You seem like you know your way around with girls." you say without thinking, before you hurriedly correct yourself. "I-I mean I don't mean that your like, a fuckboy or something or- maybe you are that's fine too! I don't judge but- oh god.." you put your head in your hand. "You know what? I'll just wait here for her, I'm so sorry." you mumble more or less.

But much to your surprise, he simply laughs, head thrown back for a second before he grins at you, front teeth slightly protruding, giving him a bunny smile.

"You're so cute, I swear." he says, shaking his head. "I- is it okay if I ask for your number?" he wonders, and you look at him for a good moment, squinting your eyes as if you test to see if he's serious.

"I.. Sure..?" you say, pulling out your phone with all the different charms attached. He grins and shakes his head amused, though clearly excited as you type in your number into his phone before calling yourself to make sure it's correct.

"So!" he grins. "Since your friend is gonna still be out of order for a good four hours downstairs," Jungkook stands up to hold out his hand. "You up for some boba for our first date?" he asks, looking down at you even though you're standing as well by now.

And you nod, walking next to him through the slight October fog outside in town, his hand warming up yours.

You don't even realize how.. easy it feels, right away. His hand holding yours is not demanding, giving you the option to let go at any point, but you don't mind holding it. It's warm, comfortable, and it also makes you wonder if that's something he enjoys. Did he date a lot already? He certainly looks like he got the choice, girls probably falling for him fairly easily.

Well.. you're already trusting him too. How ironic.

"Just tell me which one you want, I'll go order." he says later, holding out a hand in case you lose balance as you clean off the rain from your boots as to not bring it all into the small store. "I'll pay too by the way, no but's!" he grins, while you look up at him with a pleading look.

"No, I'll give you the money back for mine." you say.

"But then it's not a date!" he argues back, a whine in his voice as if to mock the way you just spoke to him. "then it's just- two people getting a drink at the same time."

"what's so bad about that?" you laugh, crossing your arms without thinking- an action he playfully copies, pushing out his chest, fabric of his jacket stretching over his biceps.

"That it's not a date!" he says, before laughing as he relaxes, talking more quietly now with a lower, more serious tone. "Alright, in all seriousness though, I'd still like to pay even if there's no date." he tells you.

"I- no, a date is fine, it can be a date.." you say. "I just don't want to.. Come off as a leech for taking your money if you end up not liking me-" you ramble, and he smiles warmly, holding your shoulders before his warm palms touch your cheeks for a second.

"You're overthinking too much." he giggles, before letting go of you. "right now, I like you very much. And even if we don't end up working out, I'm not that kind of guy to go around and talk shit about people." he shrugs.

You sigh at that, before pointing towards an item on the menu. "..can you- I don't like that much ice in mine.?" you say, and he nods, before walking towards the worker to order.

He's oddly okay with you, you've noticed.

Normally, people and especially guys get frustrated easily due to the fact that you've got trouble deciding things, or that you don't like ordering, or that you quickly feel bad because your brain thinks the worst about every single word that's said to you. But he seems nice enough, doesn't come off as annoyed or anything. Despite his way of talking and his outer appearance, Jungkook feels nice to have around.

You wonder how a guy like him can be single.

Or maybe he isnt? Maybe he's into the BDSM scene, a swinger, or in an open relationship, and he just want to offer you a threesome? He looks like he might be into that stuff, like a dominant guy that enjoys taking control over his partner in the bedroom. Does he tie people up? You've seen stuff like that before, and it's not something you'd be opposed to if he'd be the one to-

Wow, alright, exit was three miles ago.

"Everything alright?" he chuckles, snapping you out of your thoughts, amusing him as he notices the way you turn red. "Been staring at my ass? Can't blame you, honestly." he jokes, making you hit his shoulder playfully before you take your plastic cup from him. "Hey, this might sound super shady and you don't have to say yes-" he starts, stepping out the small store with you where it had started to snow again. "-but I've got my apartment a few minutes from here, and it's freezing cold, so-" he takes your hand and looks down at you. "-you wanna go to my place?"

You're nervous now, more than ever. Thoughts are entertaining, they're safe and most of all yours and not real, but the prospect of potentially going into an apartment you don't know, with a guy you don't know, is scary. What if he's actually a serial killer, or really into BDSM and you'll get involved in some shady fifty shades stuff-

"-you really don't have to say yes. We can just go back to the Tattoo shop and talk there, I don't mind." he reassures, and you still don't answer. "What's worrying you? Maybe I can help."

"I-" you start, unsure, and fingers already hurting from the cold cup as you both walk outside the small store, walking side by side. You enjoy this a bit more- without holding his hand, you feel safer having a discussion like that. "-you know, guys only take girls to their place for.. Stuff, and I'm not like that, but I also kind of want to be but at the same time it's scary-"

"Hey, no, I'm not out for blood if you mean that." he chuckles, holding out his arm to make sure you wait until a car has passed the road you're both trying to cross. "Like, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never had one-night-stands or quickies or whatever, but right now I'm interested in you, first and foremost." he explains, his rather blunt words causing an elderly lady to turn her head scandalized as she walks past. "Also, I'm into begging. I'll only fuck you if you ask nicely." he smirks down at you next to him, before laughing out loud at your wide eyes and red ears.

"I-" you struggle to form words. But you're also horribly cold. "Alright then. I mean not the fucking part, at least not right now maybe sometime in the fut- where was your apartment again?" you stutter, and he grins so hard his eyes almost close.

"You're so fucking cute, my god." he shakes his head, before taking your hand again. "It's right down this road." he simply tells you, before you both find yourself in front of an apartment building where he takes you upstairs to his door. "Ah, I didn't clean up, by the way. It's a bit chaotic." he sheepishly offers, before the door opens.

It's warm, inviting. Doesn't smell bad, and it's not as chaotic as he told you it would be, Jungkook walking inside before you walk around, inspecting the apartment.

"I've put your boots in my shower, in case you're wondering where they are." he says after emerging from his bathroom, opening a window a little to air out the apartment. "make yourself at home, don't be so stiff." he chuckles, smiling when you visibly relax.

He sits close to you on the couch, but keeps a respectful distance between the two of you. He watches as you inspect a hole in a blanket he's got on the couch, shrugging. "My friend has a dog. Small little shit tore a hole in there, but it's still good so I keep the blanket."

"It's an easy fix." you say. "If you take those two parts of the yarn and then those, you can just tie them together so it doesn't rip open any further." you explain, and he tilts his head a little.

"Oh? Do you knit?" he wonders, and you nod.

"I.. My hobbies are kind of lame. I knit, and I help at the shelter a little away from the town. Other than that, I just.. Kind of exist in my apartment." you tell him. "I work at a library near the main train station. So, I'm not really interesting." you say, while he shakes his head.

"Don't say that. I think that's all pretty cool." he reassures. "Sounds like you've made a cozy life for yourself. That's pretty impressive considering today's times." he says. "I've always been.. Unsatisfied. With almost everything." he shrugs, leaning back, socked feet resting on the edge of his couch you're both sitting on.

"How so?" you wonder, taking a sip from your drink, before putting it back onto the small table.

"I don't know." he explains vaguely. "I guess I always had way too big dreams and aspirations. And now that I'm at that age I back then wanted to be, I feel like I wasted all my time with nothing but short-lived successes and people who only wanted me for the moment."

"Kind of.. Reminds me of myself." you giggle. "I.. When I was young, even a teenager, I always said I won't have kids. But these days, I kind of think, in the future I want them. Not right now, but one day. I wanna have a family and stuff, live in a house and have a dog and a cat and a husband and all that." you giggle. "like I said, not right now- but in the future."

"Hmhm. I never wanted to marry either. Thought that's just bullshit." he says. "But now, after seeing some of my friends have that, I'm envious. I want that too. A partner for life, I mean. A boring life." he says.

You hum a reply, nodding to yourself, a bit of quietness falling over the both of you, before he moves again, sitting down more comfortably turned towards you.

"I.. Would really like to get to know you. Seriously, I mean." he starts explaining. "Like I said, I.. Don't know what it is exactly, but you're.. Fuck you make me all weird." he laughs. "I wanna stay in contact with you, if you'd like. We could watch a movie? Only Netflix, no deep-throating during commercial breaks, promise!" he jokes, before adding, "..except if you're up for it." he giggles when you hide your face for a good second, laughing.

"I don't even know how to do that!" you laugh, making him raise his eyebrows while playing with his lip ring.

"Oh I can teach you, don't worry about that." he teases.

"I'm sure you can.." you mumble more or less, sipping on your drink. But your sentence seems to make him curious, eyes gaining a challenging glimmer as he leans forward.

"No no no, let's rewind a bit there." he says. "Just so I know where I'm at. You a virgin?" he wonders, and you pull your legs closer to yourself.

"..no." you shrug. "But.. I highly doubt I'm as adventurous as you." you tell him, making Jungkook smirk a little, as if challenged.

"Are you? What do you think I'm into then?" he wonders. "I've got a feeling you've made up your mind about me more than I thought."

"I mean, I don't know?" you say. "You.. It's not that hard to have more experience than me. I only had sex like.. Twice, and it's honestly not really for me." you shrug. "it's weird to.. Ugh I don't know."

"No, you do know, you just don't want to say it out loud." he clears up for you, making you nod. "Did you ever have an orgasm?"

"Jungkook!" you bark out scandalized, making him raise his hands in playful defense.

"What? You gotta ask these days, men are shit in bed most of the time, I have to admit that!" he laughs, shamelessly talking about this as if it's nothing but the weather outside. "So? Did you?" he wonders, and you shrug. "So you didn't?"

"I- don't know!" you say, a little glad you can finally talk to someone about it, hesitation finally breaking as you get the chance to make your frustration some room. "It's different when I do it myself. Like, then I'm pretty sure I have one? But when I had sex it was different, like I was almost kind of there but also not.." you lean your head on the backrest of his couch.

"Sounds like you didn't then." he tells you. "See, there's women out there who can't cum from penetration at all. The key ingredient is being fucking attentive." he explains. "I got more than just my dick, is what I'm trying to tell." he says, wiggling his fingers in front of his face, several rings adoring some of them- and you laugh.

"You sound like you're trying to get me to have sex with you right now." you joke, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking against his cheek for a moment.

"I'd fuck you any day you'd let me." he simply answers, eyes on yours. "After all, I gotta check out those tattoos you said you have." he flirts, and you move around a little, air between you both getting thicker. At this point, you can't deny the attraction. And with the way he talks and treats you, you're sure you'd let him prove his point as well. Right now. No regrets.

He notices the way your eyes fall to his lips, getting attached at the silver piercings there for a good moment, before you find his warm eyes again. And even though he really did not intent to be so forward so fast, he still scoots closer, tests the waters, places his arms on either side of you before the tip of his nose almost touches yours.

"Been wondering for a while now.." he starts, licking his lips before he looks down to yours, face tilting a bit as he looks at you. "..what flavor that lipgloss might be." he jokes, before he can't help himself.

You've not been kissed often in your life, not even in relationships. But you know for a fact that there's no experience comparable to the way he kisses you- not only his lips, but also his hands craving you it seems, making you feel completely under his spell. He's not just kissing you with his lips. He's using his hands, his tongue, knows clearly how to create a moment.

Your phone rings.

His rings soon after.

He laughs- and so do you.

It's a little awkward for a second, before he sends a message informing his coworker that you're on your way back, his grin still evident, never vanishing it seems. "so..?" you wonder having stood up to go grab your coat.

"So?" he parrots back, standing up as well to walk closer to you.

"What flavor is it?" you shyly try and flirt, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you again, just a peck, and another, and just one last one before he parts with laughter.

"I'd say cherry-" he grins, watching you tie your boots in his hallway before he cages you in at his front door again the second you stand back up, unable to resist you now that you gave him the chance to taste you.

"But let me make sure I got it right."

[strawberri-blonde]

Chocolate Milk with a Side of Cuddling - Rafe Cameron

summary: you just want to love on the person who you love the most

warning: allusions to sex; maybe some cussing words

authors note: I love my baby daddy Rafe and idc who knows

materlist

You and Rafe had only started dating recently after months of yearning from both sides. You finally decided to stop letting fear of his past control how you felt about him, and once you did, you wished you’d let yourself have him sooner.

Rafe is everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. He looks out for you in so many ways, from always keeping his hand on your lower back when you go out with his friends or to the local grocery store, to constantly texting you to check up on you or letting you know what he’s up to (even though you share locations). He does little things like putting his hand on the end of a table when you bend down so you won’t bump your head. He surprises you with presents despite you saying you don’t need all of it, always responding with, “I like knowing my girl is wearing things I bought her.” And after that, who could turn it down?

He’s also a great lover in the bedroom, always putting your needs before his own, pulling you to the peak of ecstasy over and over again before his own release. He even always cleans you up and makes sure you pee afterward, and while you finish freshening up, he’ll make you your favorite snack: chocolate milk with apple slices (peeled, of course) with peanut butter. He teases you by calling you a child, but that doesn’t stop him from learning the perfect ratio of milk to chocolate syrup and that you like green apples best with crunchy peanut butter. But if you could change one thing about him, it would be that he doesn’t let you love him the way he deserves and how you desperately want to.

After refreshing yourself, you put on one of his shirts and removed the huge king-sized blanket that you both referred to as your sex blanket because it was mainly used to protect your sheets from the mess (you) made. Once you bundled the soft fabric up, you threw it in the laundry basket and crawled back into bed. As you settled back on your side, Rafe returned to the bedroom with a tall pink glass and a small pink sauce plate. His boxers hung low on his hips, making you blatantly stare at his v-line. “Damn, that’s a four-course meal right there?”

Rafe smirked as he walked over to your side of the bed, setting the cup and plate on your nightstand. "Nah, more like a snack from burning all your energy," he said with a wink.

You chuckled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling him closer until he was standing right by the bed. You shifted your position so he was standing over you, looking down with that playful glint in his eyes.

You let out a hum and kissed the dip in his abs. "Wasn't talking about the apples," you mumbled against his skin, feeling him slightly stiffen from your affection. Luckily, he's been loosening up to you some.

"Is that right?" His voice was full of confidence as you kissed up as far as you could reach, then wrapped your arms around his warm waist and tilted your head up, resting your chin on his chest. "I didn't give you enough of a fill, baby? Need me to grab my own midnight snack?" Rafe kissed your forehead and cupped your face in his big hands, making your stomach churn with butterflies.

As his lips were about to touch yours, you lightly dragged your fingernails down his back and grabbed his wrist. "You know I can't get enough of you," you murmured. Rafe kissed you deeply, and you happily accepted, but you pulled back to let out a yawn, making him laugh as you blushed.

"Maybe you can then?" he teased.

You both settled into bed, of course, after you had your snack and drink (Rafe helped you eat some of the apples). As the darkness enveloped you both, your eyes locked onto the back of his head, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment.

You wanted to be close to him. You guys didn’t cuddle much, but tonight you wanted to change that. Slowly, you shifted closer to him and wrapped your arm around his waist, making Rafe look back at you through the darkness.

"What is it, baby?" he asked softly. You shook your head and kissed his bare shoulder.

"Just wanted to cuddle tonight."

This seemed to catch his attention because he turned over, and you pressed a hand to his chest. He looked at you with a questioning expression and hesitated. "We've been together for three months, and we don’t hold one another. I want to love on you, Rafe, and not just when we have sex. Do you... do you not like to cuddle?"

He looked embarrassed, which was so unlike the confident man you knew. "I've never really done that. I mean, most, if not all, of the girls I've been with were just physical."

You hummed at his confession, trying not to get jealous because he was with you now, not them.

"And my mom died when I was little, so I haven't really felt what it's like to have someone hug me just because they cared."

His confession made your heart clench, and you rubbed his chest in slow, small circles.

"I care, Rafe. I love you." The room grew quiet, and Rafe kissed your lips as gently as ever, then hesitantly wrapped his arm around you.

You kissed him back and slid your hand down his chest, wrapping an arm around him as well. "Let me show you how nice cuddling someone you care about can be." He nodded, and you gently pushed him back so he was laying on his back. You kissed him softly, then trailed those kisses down to his chest. Finally, you laid your cheek against his skin, feeling the warmth and steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You wrapped your arm around him, nuzzling into his warm body, creating a cocoon of comfort and love.

Rafe was unsure as his hand slowly rubbed your back, seemingly not knowing what to do with his other one. "Don't think about it too much, baby," you whispered into the dark room. "It's just me and you." Your thumb traced gentle circles on his skin.

Finally, he linked his arm with yours, his hand gripping your bicep. You let out a content sigh and kissed the skin beneath your cheek. "You're the perfect man, Rafe. You take care of me so well. I just wish you'd let me take care of you too."

He was too quiet, so you looked up and noticed tears in his eyes, reflecting the soft glow from the plug-in diffusers in the room. "Rafe, what's wrong?" you asked gently, trying to pull away, but he held you close, not wanting to let go. "If you don't like this—"

"I've... I've never had someone love me the way you do, baby, that's all," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. He kissed the top of your head tenderly, and you reached up to brush away the few stray tears on his face. "It's just overwhelming, in the best way," he added, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs gently wiping away the tears. "Rafe, you deserve all the love in the world. I'm here for you, always," you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. The bond between you felt stronger than ever, wrapped in the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered softly.

He kissed your forehead again and settled into the bed, tightening his grip around you, making you sigh in contentment. The two of you basked in the silence and warmth of each other's embrace, savoring the feeling of being so close.

"I know that I love you more," you replied, your voice full of affection.

"Impossible," he murmured with a gentle smile.

It had taken three months to get Rafe to cuddle, but now, wrapped in his arms, you felt like you had all the time in the world to make up for it. The journey had been worth it, and you knew that every moment from here on out would be filled with the love and closeness you both cherished so deeply.

But you also couldn’t help but think… Take that past bitches.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[delicateflowerss]

DARK RED

That time of the month came early, and now the local vampire won't leave you alone.

Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, period kink, blood, compulsion, blood drinking

Pairing: Roman Godfrey x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

happy spooky season and enjoy the first tale of spooktober <3

All you see is red. 

You were letting the warm water run down your back, closing your eyes in bliss. 

But when you opened them, you were met with red. Dripping down your thighs and staining the water going down the drain. 

You sigh with frustration at the fact that you’re early. 

Of all days, you had to get your period on Halloween. 

With how your luck has been lately, you’re not surprised. 

You get out of the shower, dry off and grab a tampon, hoping that you can still have a fun night out with your friends. 

~ 

A crisp autumn breeze makes you hug your arms closer to you. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you look around at the busy street. Everywhere you look, people are dressed in costumes. They’re either waiting in line for the club you’re standing outside of or walking to another destination. 

You grow uneasy as you don’t see any sight of your friends who said they would meet you there.  

You shift from one ruby red slipper to the other as you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching you.  

It’s a heavy feeling, one that makes you feel claustrophobic.  

But you look around and find no one staring at you. 

You try to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. You realize you’ve been a little paranoid since you got fired from your job last month. 

You’re not exactly sure why. Whether it was a blow to your confidence or you felt that you pissed off the wrong guy in town. 

Hemlock Grove is small and he takes up a large part of it. 

“Hey!” 

Your breath hitches as you turn around, finding your friends in front of you. 

You feel yourself relax as you take in the familiar smiling faces. So stuck in your mind, you guess you didn’t hear them approaching you. 

“Sorry we’re a little late. Abby couldn’t find her cat ears.” 

You notice Abby roll her eyes and fix the ears on top of her head.  

“You look amazing!” Sara changes the subject, looking you up and down. 

You can’t help but grin before complimenting her on her own costume. 

“Thanks for waiting in line. Looks like we’ll be let in soon,” Sara says as she eyes the decreasing line ahead. 

“I’ve been waiting for this all week,” Abby says. 

“Is that why you lost the most important part of your costume?” 

Abby makes a face at Sara’s teasing.  

“I just hope some guy in a cheap vampire costume doesn’t hit on me like last year.” 

You and Sara just laugh at Abby’s comment as you all are let inside the club by the bouncer. 

As you walk in, you feel like your ears have gone inside your head. With the music and the amount of people, it’s deafening. 

The only lights on are colored. You blink, your vision going from purple to green to red. 

You and your friends walk up to the bar, lit up and decorated with fake spiders and cobwebs. 

Sara eyes the decorations before noticing people being served a bright blue drink with gummy eyeballs. 

“We have to get those,” she tells you and Abby. 

You nod, just wanting some sort of alcohol in your system. 

But while your friends order drinks, you can’t help but look around. 

They really went all out this year, you think, your eyes wide with awe. 

Your eyes scan the plastic gravestones before seeing someone that takes any wonder out of you and replaces it with a colder feeling. 

He stands across the room, staring at you. 

In a sea of people dressed in costumes. He’s the only one who isn’t.  

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth before letting the grey smoke furl from his pink lips.  

It surrounds him like a cloud before vanishing and then the cigarette is back in his mouth. He inhales, ready to do it again. 

For some reason, you continue to watch him.  

And he does the same, making that intense eye contact with you that you never liked. Even in a dark place like this, you can still make out that his eyes are green. 

It doesn’t even cross your mind that he shouldn’t be smoking in here.  

But that’s probably because rules don’t apply to men like Roman Godfrey. 

You finally turn away from him, but it feels difficult as if it takes all your strength to do it. 

Before you can think too much about why Roman does what he does and what he’s doing at this club on Halloween night, Sara hands you your drink. 

You take a much-needed gulp of it, tasting the sugar masking any alcohol. 

You follow your friends to a corner of the club, away from Roman. And when you gather the courage to look at him again, you find that he isn’t there anymore. 

Your eyes flit in a panic. You hated the idea of him standing in one spot, staring at you. But not knowing where he is now makes your heart race. 

You try to swallow down your fear before you see that a group of guys have approached you and your friends. 

You take another gulp of your drink as one of them walks up to you. It looks like he’s fighting off a smirk as he looks you up and down. 

“Dorothy, huh? That’s adorable,” he says and you can hear the condescending edge to his tone. 

You look at his own costume, noting the lack of effort that he put into it. 

You decide to at least smile, giving him some sort of reaction.  

He introduces himself and you look over at your friends, who seem preoccupied with the guys hitting on them. 

You had somewhat hoped that this wasn’t what you guys would end up doing this year. But you decide to play along.  

At least you know you won’t be going home with the guy since that time of the month came early. 

You offer up your name to him and try to answer his questions over the loud music. 

After a little while, he asks you if you want to dance. 

At first, you’re hesitant but when you look to where your friends were standing and don’t find them, you agree. 

Any thoughts of Roman disappear when you finish the blue liquid in your cup. 

And any thoughts of the guy you’re with disappear when you surround yourself with a ton of sweaty dancing bodies. 

The bass of the music shakes the floor and you can’t help but close your eyes as all you can focus on is that. 

It isn’t until the song changes that you open your eyes. 

When you do, the man you were with has completely vanished. You look around, unable to find him and you don’t think you can even remember what his name was. 

You search until you feel someone standing right behind you. 

You freeze, not able to move as if your feet have been planted to that exact spot on the dance floor. 

You want to move but he puts his hands on your shoulders like he’s stopping you.  

He waits a few moments before dragging them down your arms and you feel like you can’t even take a breath. 

You know who it is, as his pale hands try to grab yours.  

But you tear away from him, snapping the roots that were keeping you hostage. 

You turn to face him and you’re not surprised to find Roman looking down at you. 

You can’t read a single emotion on his face besides the slight trace of annoyance. 

But you think you have him beat on who is more annoyed. 

You don’t waste any time in storming away from him and the dance floor. But before you can get very far, he grabs your arm, yanking you toward him. 

“What’s your problem?” he asks, annoyance now more prominent in his expression. 

Your confusion turns to anger as you send him a searing glare. 

“My problem?” you echo. “What do you think my problem is, Roman?” 

He stares back at you with a question in his eyes and you don’t know if you want to laugh at him or pity him. 

You suppose that there’s a softness to Roman’s face, a boyish quality in his big round eyes and pouty lips. And that’s what lures you in, until you realize there’s something more sinister behind those eyes and in the curve of the ever-present scowl on his face. 

You’re not even surprised he’s trying to sleep with you now. You heard that’s something he does with all his assistants. 

You almost found it odd that he never tried anything with you the whole time you were employed by him. 

You take your arm out of his forceful grip. 

“I’m not going to sleep with you or whatever you want right now, Roman. You fired me for no fucking reason,” you yell but your voice is still not loud enough over the music. 

“I was good at my job. I did everything you asked and then you threw me out in front of everyone. It was humiliating,” you stop yourself when your voice cracks. 

For once, Roman has nothing to say.  

All he does is avert his gaze from you and all you can do is shake your head and walk away.  

You just want to get out of there but you realize you need to go to the restroom first. 

After searching for a couple minutes, you’re surprised to find the restroom with no line outside of it. 

The bathroom is dark, painted black with red stall doors. That uneasy feeling comes back as the space is strangely empty with no one around. 

You find a stall and lock it. 

You check your phone and see a message from Sara telling you that they have left without you.  

Of course, you think, rolling your eyes. 

You would be out of here right now too if you hadn’t gotten your period. 

You check your purse for a new tampon after taking out the old one. But after scurrying through the contents of your purse, you find nothing. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper. 

There’s absolutely no one around and you didn’t notice any tampon dispensers in the bathroom. 

Deciding that you’re about to leave anyway, you pull up your underwear and hope for the best. 

You leave the restroom, eyes on the floor as you think this might be the worst Halloween you’ve ever experienced. 

“Where’s Toto?” 

You almost can’t believe it when you hear his voice. But then you find him standing right in front of you. 

His height almost makes you feel trapped but it doesn’t stop you from showing how you really feel. 

“What?” 

One simple word from you holds every ounce of resentment you have towards him right now. 

“You’re supposed to be some slutty version of Dorothy, right?” 

“You’re such a dick,” you spit out before trying to go around him. 

He stops you with a light touch from his large hand. You look up at him, waiting for him to say something. 

He’s quiet for a moment while he runs his other hand through his hair, fighting with himself to get what he wants. 

Finally, he says your name. 

It’s soft but slightly demanding. 

You keep your attention on him like it’s something you don’t have to think about. 

The exit sign nearby bathes him in a blood red light. 

“Let’s talk outside,” is all he says. 

And for some entirely unknown reason, you agree. 

You follow him through the nearby exit, out into the alley. 

The music and sounds of the club are muffled now and you take in the eerie silence. 

You fix your gaze to him, waiting for him to speak. 

“I don’t want you to think I fired you for no reason,” he begins. 

You can tell it’s difficult for him. Roman doesn’t seem like the type to apologize or to willingly talk about his feelings. 

He looks at you and you can’t help but look back, gazing deeply into his eyes. 

“I fired you because I couldn’t stand being around you.” 

You feel like you’ve been kicked in the chest. 

“And it’s not what you think,” he continues, starting to walk toward you. 

You back up, each step taking you closer to the brick wall behind you until your back hits it, a small grunt leaving your lips. 

He steps closer and closer to you until he closes the gap between you two. 

You’re nervous, unsure of what to do, but all you can do is stare into those eyes. 

His voice gets lower as his mouth gets closer to you. 

“I fired you so I wouldn’t do something I regret.” 

You open your mouth in confusion, trying to form the words but instead he stops you with his lips hungrily kissing your open mouth. 

He licks inside your mouth as you breathe him in, your fingers twisting up the fabric of his black sweater. 

He moves his mouth away from yours and finds your neck. You move your head back to let him lick the column of your throat, nibbling at the delicate skin that covers the blood pumping through your body. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt hungrier,” he whispers until he hesitates. 

His hands move down your body, going under your dress and finding your underwear. 

But you stop him, your hand finding his. 

“Roman. I can’t.” 

He shushes you and says, “I could smell you from the moment you walked into the door.” 

You furrow your brow at his words and you almost stop him again but his movements are careless as he quickly rips off your underwear and kneels down before you. 

You look down at him, waiting for his reaction but he barely even takes a look at you before putting his tongue to your core. 

A moan escapes your lips as you throw your head back. He continues to lap at you, drinking the blood that pours from in-between your legs. 

You tangle your fingers into his hair as pleasure courses through you, the feeling rising within you as each cry comes from your mouth. 

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on the swollen bud and letting his tongue brush over it.  

He moves his lips down, through your bloody folds and your eyelids flutter as you pull Roman’s hair harder. 

He continues like that while pleasure has completely replaced any disgust you have for Roman’s actions.  

Your breathing is fractured and as he takes your clit into his mouth again, you feel complete bliss overtake you as you let out one last moan. 

Your mind feels hazy as Roman stands back up. 

Then you blink, finding Roman’s lips and chin covered in blood. 

Confusion, fear, and disgust cloud your mind as you watch him slowly lick his lips as if he wouldn’t want to waste a single drop of you. 

His stained lips curve into a smirk before he brushes his thumb across your chin. Then he says something in that usual cocky tone of his. 

“Maybe I should hire you back. Then we can do this more often.” 

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, dark themes, mention of drug use and cheating, stalking, obsession, König’s pov

A/n: it’s a prequel to my Fuck or Die fic, so go check it out<3 Will this be the beginning of psychotic yan! König series?? Maybe🤭

Crouched in uncomfortable position, fabric on his knees was damp from wet soil on which König was kneeling, mosquitos buzzing all over his head, all eager to drink of his warm blood - but he didn’t budge, staying still like a panther observing its next prey. Soft rustling filled König’s ears, warm breeze ruffling up the leaves of dense shrubbery among which man sat, completely concealing his bulky form.

König’s mouth filled with saliva, dilated pupils concealed the icy blue of his eyes, making them look pitch black. He swallowed hard, exhaling as slowly as he could through his nose, a spark of excitement settling somewhere deep within his stomach, watching unblinkingly through thick lenses of his binoculars two bodies swirling together.

In a building about three hundred meters afar all widows were free from curtains, revealing the insides of the house. With thumping heart König watched guy’s hands slip down Y/n’s sides, caressing sweet indent of her waist, down to soft hips and lower, finally resting on two hemispheres of girl’s plump ass. He noted how her back arched ever so slightly, pushing further into her boyfriend’s chest, hot mouthes connecting in a sloppy kiss, bright blush dusting Y/n’s soft cheeks and pointy tips of her ears.

Breaking apart shortly after, König’s sharp eyes watched guy’s lips move. “I love you” he said and König couldn’t help but snort in amusement, memories from only few hours earlier were still fresh in his head - how that motherfucker offered to give that cute cheerleader girl from his class a ride home, pulling up in an empty parking lot, not even ten minutes later his car was shaking from side to side. Still, Y/n smiled softly at his words, making König’s jaw clench. He could do so much better.

König didn’t expect much from you at first. Truth be told - it wasn’t you who caught his attention, but your boyfriend, especially where he lived. A huge house on the outskirts - closest neighbouring cottages were at best one kilometre away, making this place a perfect target for König’s next outing. So he came to studying its inhabitants more closely - a family of three - couple in their fifties and their only son. How better can it possibly get?

So König entered his usual routine - first and most important step was to learn more about his future victims, their routines and people they were close with. It was very easy with parents - an average boring life consisting of work, household and a dinner at local restaurant every Saturday. But slasher couldn’t say the same about their child.

From the very first hours König felt deep disdain for that guy. Everything about him just felt fake. A perfect son and excellent boyfriend, captain of local football team, goody two shoes who has never done anything wrong in his whole life - everyone’s golden boy, all bright smiles and promising future. The exact same one who snorted cocaine in stale bathrooms of gas stations, hands too shaky and mind too numb from withdrawal to actually process his surroundings; the one who, stoned out of his head, gladly threw himself in embrace of other women, hardly remembering sweet face of his girlfriend.

Oh, his girlfriend. Y/n - a sweet and lovely little thing, all butterflies and unicorns, never once failing to hold König’s full attention without slightest intention of doing so.

Watching Y/n has always been way more fun and exciting for him. König guessed it had something to do with her demeanour - so drastically different from his own, that attracted him so much. How bubbly and vibrant you were, making everything around you play with new colours, just like a little ray of sunshine - something König has never been.

Oftentimes slasher caught himself listening intently to you going over newest gossip with your best friend over the phone (wiretapping is way easier than one may think), your sweet voice filling his ears like honey, soothing his raging thoughts buzzing within his skull, clinging to every smallest word you said. It didn’t take much time for König to find your socials as well, spending way much longer than he should studying your pictures, breathing becoming shallow and his dick twitching at the sight of your puffy lips, often imagining how they’d look like wrapper around his shaft.

What König took special liking of was to watch your nightly routine. It was a stable and never changing chain of events - hot shower, skincare, rubbing moisturiser into your feet, shins and hands, and then finally tucking yourself comfortably in soft bed. It was nothing special, yet König craved to be a part of it. Craved to be the one applying whatever shit that was on your pretty face, to massage good-smelling mixtures onto your cheeks

Back to reality, König watched both Y/n and that little boyfriend of hers settling down in the couch, starting some soap opera on big TV screen.

Maybe now? König’s whole body froze at sudden thought. He swallowed hard once again, his mind racing, adrenaline burning through his veins at the intensity of this idea alone. Guy’s parents were out of town, meaning that him and Y/n were all alone in the house. König glanced at the black sport bag lying right next to him on damp ground, electricity tingling his fingertips - he had all necessary stuff packed with him, just go for it.

Slasher gazed through binoculars once again, blue eyes fixating upon you two cuddled up on the couch, man’s mind now filling with all the possible things he could do to the motherfucker, sight of him holding you so gently making König’s blood boil.

Reaching over to his bag murderer opened it, pulling out his mask and checking if voice changer was working still. All of König’s thoughts dissipating into nothingness the moment soft fabric of under mask touched the skin of his cheeks, leaving place for only one thing:

Soon she will be mine

[smok3ygoth]

SANCTUARY

Summary: After a chaotic day, you head to the pub and bump into Louis, which blossoms into something beautiful. [1.3k]

—

Tonight, you find yourself at the local pub, seeking solace in your usual escape. As you sip your vodka and Coke, the familiar rhythm of the low music surrounds you, creating a comforting haze that drowns out your racing thoughts.

You swayed gently, letting the world outside fade away, if only for a little while. You'd been inside for hours, drinking and giggling to yourself, realising just how ridiculous your life had become.

"Can't fucking believe this."

After an exhausting eight-hour shift, you were so ready to unwind and enjoy some TV time with your lovely boyfriend, but then everything changed.

Once you got home, you heard squeaking from upstairs, like someone was bouncing on the bed. You didn't bother changing; you stormed up the stairs and burst into your bedroom.

"What the actual fuck?"

There, right in front of you, was one of your best friends getting bent over by your boyfriend—the guy you'd been with for five years, and someone you’d known forever.

"Wait—"

"I don't want to fucking hear it. You better be gone by the time I get back or you'll regret it." You'd said rather calmly, which is undoubtedly scarier than screaming at them.

And now, here you are at the bar, alone.

"Fuck, I need some fresh air." You grabbed your drink and went to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You reached into your back and you swore you had a pack of fags in there.

"For fucksake, could this day get any worse?" You said this right before someone accidentally spilled some of their beer on you.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The woman apologised, but you could tell she was very pissed, so you just waved it off with a smile.

"Guess I'll just sit here and sip my drink," you said to yourself, hoping the night would turn around. You pulled out your phone, thinking about what series of movies you could dive into later to forget all this.

Then, a hand reached out in front of you, offering a cigarette. You looked up, surprised at the man standing before you. You took the cigarette and placed it between your lips as his hand came up to light it for you.

Inhaling deeply, you asked, "How did you know I needed a smoke?"

"I've seen you here a few times, crying, and I've always offered you a smoke." You blushed at his words.

Well, that's embarrassing.

Taking another long, deep inhale of the cigarette, you asked, "Aren't you that singer? What's your name?"

"Louis Tomlinson, and what may your name be, darling?" The pet name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Why did it suddenly feel so warm?

"It's Y/N, but you can call me whatever you like. Isn't it a bit risky just hanging out at the pub with no security?"

"A bit. My fans are respectful, though, so I love seeing them when I'm out. I'm guessing you're not a fan?" he joked, a playful glint in his eye.

"I could be a fan, but I might just be hiding it. You'll never know," you replied with a laugh, feeling the chemistry spark between the two of you.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to find out then," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. The warmth between you felt electric, and for a moment, the earlier chaos faded away.

"So, what brings you out here tonight? Besides, you know, the vodka?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by why you would be here all by yourself.

You took another drag from the cigarette, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Honestly, I just needed a break from everything. It's been one of those days, you know?" You smiled, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

"But now it seems like I've stumbled onto something a bit more interesting."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"You."

"You're quite bold, you know?"

"I am aware, yes." You giggle as he lights his own cigarette, offering you another since you'd finished yours.

You both sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the comforting silence that you both needed.

"Hey, Lou?"

"Yes, love?" He turned to you, a spark of intrigue in his eyes at the nickname you had given him.

"Would you like to—I don't know—be friends? We could go to my place and watch some TV since it's getting quite chilly out here, and I don't really want to drink anymore."

"Course we can, yeah. Don't want you walking home by yourself either." A smile spread across your face, gratitude shining in your eyes.

"Let's go then." You both finish your cigarettes, and you take his hand, leading the way to your place. It’s closer than Louis expected, but he’s not complaining.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag by the door. You quickly turn on the heating, eager to warm up from the chilly air outside.

"Would you like a drink or something?" you ask as he settles onto the comfortable sofa in the living room.

"Tea, please, love."

"On it." You smile at him as he gets comfortable on the sofa, making himself at home while scrolling through a bunch of different movies.

As you focus on making tea for both of you, your mind drifts, and you momentarily forget about your boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend.

"Y/N?" You spin around, shocked to see him still lingering in your house.

"I told you to get the fuck out."

"Wait—please let me explain!"

"What is there to explain? It was pretty obvious what was happening. I'm just curious about how long this has been going on." He avoids your gaze, mumbling.

"Hmm, what was that?"

"Two years."

"Wow. This all happened under my roof? You're fucking disgusting. Get out. Now."

"You heard her, get the fuck out." Louis spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" Louis steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist—a protective gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Your replacement. I'm better than you, and you know it, so fuck off." Louis grinned, a mix of amusement and defiance in his eyes as he watched your ex-boyfriend storm out, slamming the door behind him.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Louis' boldness and the way he handled the situation. "Thanks for that. He really needed to go."

Louis shrugged casually. "No worries, love. No one messes with my friends like that."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Louis' unexpected presence and unwavering support. "I owe you one, Lou."

He flashed you a warm smile. "Nah, we're friends now. That's what friends are for, right?"

Right, friends. But did you want to be just friends? Of course not. You didn't know how it happened so quickly, but you knew you had developed some romantic feelings for Louis.

"Lou?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, looking up at him with shy eyes.

"Hm?"

"I think I like you. I know we've only just gotten to know each other, but I like you, and I know you probably don't feel—" He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips, a smile spreading warmth across your face.

"What were you saying, hmm, love?" You gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of courage. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time slower and deeper, savouring the moment as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

"I like you too," he whispered against your lips, making you grin and kiss him harder. The world around you faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his body and the electric connection between you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless and smiling, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"So, what now?" you asked, a playful glint in your gaze. Louis chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Now, we take it one day at a time, together." With that, he leaned in for another kiss, and in that moment, you realised this was just the start of something truly beautiful. He had become your safe haven, your sanctuary amidst the chaos.

—

This is my first fic on this app because I have no idea how to use it, and it needs more Louis fics. I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist and all that, but for now, I'm just going to leave this little thing here. :) P.S. This is my first fic ever, so please don't hate. Thanks! xD

Please send requests! <3