#small town boy living his best life in the big city!!!

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[ericscroptop]

Smokey And Sweet

✧ pairing: neighbor! lee jeno x fem! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of food and eating, mentions of death (no actual people die/have died), smoking from jeno & reader (cigarette), cursing, teasing, car sex, semi-public sex (oops), missionary, big d!ck jeno, fingering, protected sex, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praising, pet names, some drool & spit, kissing, shy reader when it comes to godly men like lee jeno, slightly bad-boy jeno but more so his aura, reader & jeno are in their early 20s

✦ word count: 11.6k words (i literally couldn’t stop)

✧ synopsis: new boy next door takes an interest in you and decides to take you as a warm welcome into town.

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Winter had said its goodbye weeks ago, and now, it has fully transitioned into Spring.

With Spring having sprung, the environment has come back to life and everything is blooming once again.

You can now enjoy hearing the sweet songs from the birds chirping proudly every day. You can savor the sunshine and natural light for much longer now due to the time being pushed forward an hour. And, the weather isn’t bitterly cold anymore so you could actually go outside having your skin exposed without your body tingling, stinging, and shivering.

Though, there were still downsides to Spring that you loathed— such as torrential downpours, freshly awoken wasps and bumblebees, and random sneezing fits from pollen. But on days like today where the air felt so fresh outside and you frankly had nothing better else to do, the outdoors called to you.

You desired to spend your leisure time this evening outside. Maybe you’d even decide to buy a treat from the ice cream truck that drove past your neighborhood almost daily now that the weather was warmer. You relish in just the thought of enjoying your first ice cream this season from the cute truck. You’d definitely buy one.

With the weather just right, you chose to wear a simple oversized t-shirt and your pair of frilly-ruffled, black and white polka dot shorts, along with your go-to comfortable footwear. Perfect for lounging out in the breezy and warm weather.

Deciding to sit on the tailgate of your dad’s pickup truck while you wait, you scroll mindlessly through your phone with your wallet by your side.

Although your face was trained on your phone instead of enjoying the outdoors peacefully, at least you were outside instead of cooped up in indoors.

In the midst of the sounds of nature, from wind blowing the trees to birds singing, you hear the sound of your neighbors’s door swing open. Though, you refrain yourself from allowing your eyes to follow the sound, trying to ignore their presence even though curiosity fills you.

This past week, a new family had moved into the house next to yours. It had been vacant and up for sale for awhile, as the previous owners decided to relocate elsewhere.

You’ve seen the movers and had your fair share of brief glimpses towards the house, but you tried your best to ignore and avoid them.

Although your whole life your neighbors have been unproblematic and greet your parents every-so-often, you weren’t someone who enjoyed small talk and acted ‘neighborly.’ You lived in your own bubble, and were too shy in even sparing a greeting to your neighbors.

That may seem a bit bitchy, but you just felt awkward and never really knew what to say. It felt easier just minding your own business.

You probably should work on your social skills. Maybe then you’d actually have something to do instead of sitting alone outside like a loser waiting for some ice cream— at your grown age.

With your attention directed towards your phone, you don’t notice that it is a boy that comes out of the door.

Said boy walks out of his house and lets out a deep sigh with both hands on his hips as he stands on his porch.

Honestly, Jeno didn’t really know how to feel about the move. His parents had decided to move out of the big city he’s known and loved his entire life, and ditch it for this unknown-small town he has to call home now.

While he’s in his early twenties and fully capable of living on his own as an adult, he just graduated college and rent was fucking expensive these days. For the time being, it was easier to move and live with his parents until he found a job and could start saving for his own place.

There was nothing wrong with adults living with their parents, anyways. There were upsides and downsides to it— as there were with practically anything. But it’s what will work for now.

It just sucks that he had to leave everything he’s ever known behind and start over. But life’s all about growing and new adventures— at least, that’s what the older adults say. He just has to learn to adapt to his new environment and embrace change.

He’s been unpacking boxes and organizing his new room all day. It was now around 6pm, and he’d been in the house all day doing labor and cleaning. After being stuck indoors all day, he figured it was time for a break to go for a short drive or maybe get food someplace.

As he stepped out his front door and stood on the porch, he looked towards his left and noticed your figure.

A girl, he thought. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to even notice any of his neighbors or surroundings fully, as he was too immersed in helping his parents settle into their new home and couldn’t keep his attention on anything outside of moving in.

From his porch he could see your figure swaying your head faintly from side to side, legs swinging back and forth in the air over the cracked concrete of your driveway. You were in your own world, phone in hand and sat by your lonesome self.

How cute, he thinks. He probably looks like a freak just staring at your form, but he glances around the street fleetingly and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is out right now. You don’t seem to notice his presence watching you— or at least, maybe you’re pretending you don’t.

You peak his interest suddenly. He wonders what you’re like and from this distance, he can see that you’re definitely an adult like him. Maybe you’re around his age. He could use a friend or at least, know someone in this foreign town.

He gives himself an internal pep-talk of confidence to walk up to you. You’d start seeing each other almost daily now that you’re neighbors, and he doesn’t think he can stay unacquainted with you. So he strides his way towards your house to introduce himself like a gentleman.

While engrossed in whatever nonsense you’re watching on your phone, you begin to detect movement from your peripheral, as well as hear shoes scraping against the concrete.

Your eyes slightly widen at that, sensing a complete stranger coming towards your direction. It wasn’t everyday someone decided to approach you suddenly. Your body stilled and you found strength to raise your head, locking eyes with what seems to be a handsome man.

He brings a hand up and waves, continuing walking up to you until he’s like only 6 feet away.

“Hey— sorry to bother you, but I came to introduce myself. I’m Jeno. I just moved in next door.” he shoots you a smile.

“Oh— hey! Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you awkwardly get up to stand on your feet and extend an arm out.

“I’m Y/n. Welcome to the neighborhood!” you put on your best smile as he takes your hand to shake it firmly, practically blacking out mentally as you cannot believe this is a real scene playing out.

You’re left utterly dumbfounded once you took a good gander at this guy.

There was a contrast to him. His skin was pretty much bright and his beauty could light up darkness and draw irresistible attention to him, but he was also kind of shadowy in a way. Although he greeted you with a smile that reached his eyes, he seemed to have this intimidating presence to him.

Maybe you’re just saying that because anyone who’s attractive to you intimidates the fuck out of you. But he seems to ooze natural confidence and appeal. His features were sharp, and he just had this indescribable aura to him that made you weak. You couldn’t pin point what it was.

It didn’t help that he was cool enough to rock an undercut, seeing it peeking through slightly from his right side of face. Not to mention, you couldn’t help but shift your eyes down for a second to look at his almost-exposed chest, first few buttons of his dark flannel left undone.

His dark eyes, dark hair, and dark shirt contrast with his light blue baggy jeans and kind smile, making your skin heat up from his presence, even in the midst of a breeze passing through.

But anyways— your new neighbor is a hot man that decided to come over and greet you. If that’s not a moment in history, then you don’t know what is.

The smile on his face doesn’t falter one bit as you greet him back, feeling your smaller, slightly wobbly hand shaking his own, and sees the slight tint of pink coloring your cheeks. Was it from the weather or his abrupt approach? He’s not sure. And neither are you.

“Thanks. I— uh, actually noticed you were sitting out here alone. Figured I’d come introduce myself. Since I’m new to this town, I don’t know anyone.” he admits.

Your lips parted as you attentively listened to his every word, arms crossed. You let out a chuckle as he finishes, “To be honest with you, i’m not really familiar with anyone else in this neighborhood— and i’ve lived on this street my whole life.” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you look around at nothing in particular sheepishly.

Your words and quiet laugh only makes his smile bigger. “Yeah? Maybe I could be your first neighbor-friend.” Jeno smirks at you, his hands shifting around in the pockets of his jeans.

The dopamine releasing from your brain causes you to feel giddy and it feels like butterflies are fluttering inside your stomach from excitement and coyness. You’re gushing internally at the fact that God himself has sent you a cute neighbor— one who had the urge to come over and is showing interest in you.

You only know his name and your delusional-self is already mentally planning your future with him.

“I could definitely use a friend.” your smile is genuine as you tell him, showing courtesy to your new neighbor.

You see the smile reach to his eyes again, meeting your gaze before he looks down at his own feet while grinning, making you look away shyly.

God, you felt like a teenager again.

“Do you care if I sit out here with you? I don’t really have anything better to do.” Jeno speaks. He really wants to get to know you and waste no time. You seem very sweet, and like he said, he actually doesn’t have anything better to do. (He still had some unpacking left to do unfortunately, but he needed a damn break.)

You can feel your heart rate increase and a flash of heat hits you at his words, feeling flustered that your peaceful evening has unexpectedly taken a turn.

“Of course! I could use someone to keep me company.” you say, still feeling flushed.

You pushed your rear back onto the truck’s tailgate and Jeno follows suit. He takes a seat next to you, making you hold back a giggle at how the truck lowered for a moment due to the extra weight now added.

“So… you were just out here chilling alone?” he queries with both arms outstretched behind him, leaning back a bit and making himself comfortable.

“I actually came out ‘cause I wanted some ice cream. Now that it’s warmer out again, a truck usually passes by everyday.” you begin to swing your legs like you were earlier as you continued. “I’m grown as hell waiting for the ice cream man by myself. Can you believe that?” you laugh.

Jeno finds your demeanor endearing. How you’re just out here innocently waiting for some ice cream. And the way that you seem like a ball of sunshine. You’re unintentionally stirring his emotions with sudden fondness and attraction towards you.

“Hey, that’s cute. And, now you have company to wait alongside you.” he states, his eyes stuck on you as he spoke.

Your cheeks must’ve been permanently stained pink since he’s made himself known. His natural charm and solely being in the presence of an attractive male has your palms sweaty and senses tingling.

“So why’d you move here?” you attempt to make conversation, trying to push pass the fact that he basically called you cute and is sitting directly next to you.

He inhales some air and huffs it out deeply before speaking. “Parents wanted to settle in a smaller town now that they’re getting older. We lived in the city my whole life, but my parents wanted a change. Plus, my dad runs an auto repair shop, and he had the grand idea of extending his business here, so… yeah.”

“I just graduated college a while ago, too. You’d think that I would have my own place and not be packed up alongside my parents, but i’m trying to figure out what I wanna do. Rent’s too expensive in the city, anyways. I have friends I could’ve moved in with to split rent, but since we all graduated, we all are doing our own things and they have their partners and stuff.” he continued.

“S’ry for rambling. I’m just dumping all this shit on you.” Jeno shakes his head, scoffing at his own rant. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s looking for pity and seem lame.

“Nooo— it’s okay. I asked you a question and you answered it. Sounds like there’s so much change in your life recently. It would only be natural to feel sour or uncertain about your current life. I know it’s probably not ideal, but I hope you adjust well here.” you offer him an empathetic smile, trying to assure him that his feelings are valid.

Jeno looks at you, intrigued and taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with something that suddenly made his heart stir.

He isn’t one to get sappy or ever seeks for people to comfort him. He wasn’t even asking for sympathy. You were just kind enough to offer him some touching and uplifting words.

The ends of his lips curl at your tenderness. “Wow… do you always say such nice things to people you barely know?” he decides to tease you.

Your face grows hot, laughing nervously as you speak, “What? I’m just telling you what I think.” you pause for a couple seconds before continuing, “Moving can be mentally and physically taxing. Change is never easy. Especially as a young adult, we’re still trying to figure everything out. So I feel for you.”

“There you go again.” Jeno can’t help but smirk, eyes falling to his own lap, hands clasped together.

“You majored in psychology or something? Your words are naturally comforting.” he chuckles.

You scoff at that. “I’m actually in community college— and undecided.”

He hums at your response, finally learning something about you.

“Well, i’m sure you’d be good in any career field. You sound very mature.”

You pursed your lips to the side, feeling flustered at all these small compliments he’s throwing your way. He’s probably just being nice, but he’s probably thinking the same about yourself towards him. Though, you were a very compassionate person. Your words were earnest.

And his own words carried much weight to your brain, especially because it was coming from a man. A very attractive one, at that.

“I dunno, I was just being real.” you brushed his comment off.

“Nah, you’re definitely a smart girl. Come on now.” Jeno tilts his head at you, staring at you attentively.

He’s wondering what goes on in that pretty little head of yours. He has the urge to figure you out. Jeno isn’t stupid and realizes the effect he has on girls merely from his looks. Call him cocky or whatever, but it’s not a secret that girls easily gravitate towards him.

Though, you’re currently bringing him a different vibe. He’s already gathered that you’re sweeter than a Pop-Tart. And a bit bashful.

Girls are usually so quick to be flirty towards him. Not that he doesn’t like that— he actually loves when girls are bold and quick to get things swinging. But you’re offering him something new, even within the couple of minutes you’ve known each other. He’s definitely interested in you.

You can sense his pair of eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your vision lies straight ahead, trying to remain composed after hearing him compliment you as you stare at the house across from yours. How is this man still talking to your ass? You wondered.

You can’t even come up with a response before your ears pick up on that familiar tune of the ice cream truck, sounding closer and closer every second.

“It’s coming,” you lift yourself off the tailgate, wallet in hand as you approach the end of your driveway towards the road.

Jeno follows your lead and trails behind you, joining you as the truck comes to a halt in seeing you both.

He watches as you greet the driver and look over the menu momentarily, eventually deciding on a regular-sized Italian ice— flavor of your choice.

You then turn to look at Jeno, smile taking over your features charmingly.

“Do you want anything?” you ask him.

Jeno secretly does have a big sweet tooth, so he refuses to pass up on a treat of his own. “Yeah, i’ll have the same as her.” he announces and smiles at the worker.

You fiddle with your wallet, scrambling to fish out a couple dollars while your treats are being prepared. Though, it seems like you’re beat to covering for the both of you, eyes looking up to the sight of Jeno handing the worker some cash.

“I got it.” he says like nothing to you, happily paying the man in the truck.

You’re left confounded, not expecting him to even have his wallet on him.

Your mouth is slightly parted at his sudden act, ponderously putting your money back in your wallet. You can’t even protest as the transaction was already made.

Jeno hands you your treat with a spoon and grabs his own, both of you thanking the driver and walking back to your dad’s tailgate as the ice cream truck drives away, music now growing distant.

“I was gonna pay for us, y’know?” you say as you sit back down, Jeno doing the same.

“It was only a couple bucks. Plus, i’d never let a girl pay.”

You look down at your Italian ice in hand, poking at it with your spoon in other hand.

“Yeah, but we just met. You’re the new neighbor, shouldn’t I be the one treating you?”

“Your company is more than enough.” he simply replies before bringing his spoon to his mouth, head turned in your direction.

His words make your heart begin to thud erratically in your chest, heat rising all-throughout your body, and you’re left tongue-tied.

You’re still twiddling with your semi-frozen treat, mind and body fuzzy. You’re focused on his comment, the fact that he paid, and the innocent moment of you two enjoying ice cream next to each other here— outside your house.

You feel like you’re squirming on the inside, not knowing what to do with Jeno’s kind presence. He’s your neighbor now. How are you supposed to live now that you have an incredibly beautiful and charming man living next door to you?

“You like playing with your food before you eat?”

“Huh? Oh— my bad.” Jeno rips you away from your ruffled thoughts about him, now feeling embarrassed at how your head is already spinning and going dumb from someone you just met.

A nervous chuckle leaves your throat, finally digging for your first bite while Jeno was on his nth spoonful. You pop the spoon filled with ice cream into your mouth, tastebuds absorbing the deliciously creamy and smooth consistency.

“How is it?” he asks, eyeing you as you enjoy your first taste.

“It’s so sweet. Really good.”

“Definitely.” Jeno says, nodding his head in agreement. Though, he’s not sure if he’s referring to the ice cream or you.

You guys finished up your treats and talked about various topics, slowly getting to know each other better. You even started to loosen up a bit more, feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable the more you two conversed.

“You know, I’m a real huge car guy.”

“Really? I’m honestly not surprised.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it seems like every guy these days is a ‘car guy.’” you sneered.

He scoffs after listening to you. “Well, since my dad’s a mechanic, he’s taught me almost everything I need to know about cars. It’s practically in my veins.”

“Trust me, I am practically infatuated with cars. I used to dream of becoming a F1 driver.” he clicks his tongue.

“Woah, what?! So with cars, do you like the mechanics of it all, or do you really just like showing off how fast you can go?” you cock your head at him, asking curiously with a hint of tease in saying the latter.

“Both. I like working hands-on with cars and having the knowledge to perform car maintenance. It also feels personal cause’ since my dad’s a mechanic, he passed down his love for cars to me.”

“I also love the control I can have while driving. It can be exhilarating when you’re going hella fast. Especially when your car’s all nicely polished and sleek— it’s the best.”

“Damn. You really are passionate, huh? That’s actually really dope.”

“I am.” he smirks, amused that you’re interested in hearing about his interests. Like, you actually are having a conversation with him and are seriously listening to him.

Meanwhile, it’s such a breath of fresh air for you to listen to him speak about his passions and have personality to him. He wasn’t dry or giving you half-assed anything— and he was respectful, making you swoon and happy to have met someone like him.

The sun was beginning to set as you two got loss in conversation, the sky painted in a warm hue.

“Let me go throw these away.” you gather your now-empty foam cups and plastic spoons, grabbing them and getting up to throw them in your trash bin.

“Thanks.” Jeno gets up shortly after you do, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I should be the one thanking you— for the ice cream.” you now stand in front of him, arms crossed behind your back with a hand resting over your wrist.

“It was only a couple of bucks, no biggie like I said.” he assures you.

You smile, the apples of your cheeks more prominent as you can’t hold back in how wide it becomes due to his kindness. You stand meekly, figuring that this is the part where you bid one another goodbye and go inside your separate homes.

Although he literally lives next to you and you’d be seeing him frequently, you don’t want your time together to end just yet. He’s pulling you in like a magnet. You’ve felt lonely lately, and Jeno’s company was the best unexpected gift you could ever ask for.

And it seems like he’s thinking the same.

“Hey— I was thinking now would be a perfect time to drive around for a bit. I’ve been stuck at home all day and could go out for a bit. Would you like to come with?”

Your brows lift slightly, caught off guard by his invite. You didn’t expect to spend your evening with a man outside your house, and now, said man is asking you out for a drive.

“Only if you want to, of course. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or—“

“No!— let’s do it.” you interrupt him, rather eagerly. You stare at him with a twinkle inside your eyes, mirroring Jeno’s own, eyes dreamy as he looks at your figure.

You might be some trouble for him, and you’re definitely feeling the same about him. The magnetism between you two is strong. Each of you look at one another in admiration and thoughts about anything else are practically nonexistent. It was purely curious attraction. Like a moth to a flame.

You’re honestly not sure if it’s the smartest idea to be getting in a vehicle with a guy you haven’t even known for 24 hours. You know your parents would literally be up your ass if they knew, and the anxious side of you is lowkey freaking out internally, already playing out multiple scenarios.

But you oddly trust Jeno. He seems to find solace in your presence. You each agreed that you were friends now. You hardly got out of the house anyways— you definitely needed this. And you’re an adult, so who cares?

“Alirghty then, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, i’m good to go.”

With that, Jeno leads the way into his new property. His left hand digs into his left pocket and pulls out a pair of keys, walking to the driver’s side of what seems to be his car.

The sight of his car definitely confirms that he’s a serious car guy. You’re not too familiar yourself on the technical terms or remember model names, but his car is black, windows were tinted, and it’s glossy. It looked almost brand new, smooth and sexy— dare you say. It suits him well.

He unlocks his car and lets you know you’re able to get in, and so you open the passenger door and seat yourself inside.

A subtle musky fragrance fills your nostrils immediately as you settle in. The interior of his car smells clean and fresh, mellow undertones within the scent. Not strong, but pleasant and fitting.

Jeno also settles in his vehicle, starting up the engine as you each put on your seatbelts.

“Don’t worry. I know I said I like going fast, but I follow the law. It’ll be a nice drive.” Jeno suddenly says, looking over his shoulder as his right hand takes hold of the gear shift. He puts the car in reverse, using his left hand to steer the wheel.

You sit idly as he cranes his neck slightly to look behind, making sure the street is clear as he makes exit from his driveway. He smoothly reverses, and begins to drive down the street.

Your hands are folded in your lap, and you begin to play with them out of suspense from what is to come during this drive with Jeno.

You’re fortunate that your parents are out of town right now, so they don’t really have to question your whereabouts.

Though, you’re thinking about how you’re alone in the car with a guy you just met. It had been so long since you hung out with a male like this. You couldn’t help but already feel some type of way towards Jeno. Your senses heightened within his presence. Maybe it’s because you still don’t really know too much about him, but you also think it’s because his attractiveness daunts you.

Perhaps you’re already developing a crush.

“Got anywhere in particular you wanna go? I don’t really mind; I’ll let you take the reins.” he halts his car at a stop sign, then turns to smile at you.

“Honestly, there’s really not much to do in this town. People usually go goof around the grocery stores for entertainment. That’s how dry it is here.” you tittered.

“Though, there’s a school a few blocks away from our street that I walk to occasionally when I want to clear my mind, and I usually just roam leisurely around there. Since it’s practically right next to a nice neighborhood, lots of people go on walks or bike rides around, and kids play after school hours.” you internally facepalm yourself once you finish talking. He probably is gonna think you’re so lame and that you clearly don’t go out much. A school? Really?

“We can go there. Sounds chill to me, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah! I’m good with that.” you’re relieved to see that he seems on board with your idea. He seemed to be pretty laidback and easygoing, leaving you feeling safe.

You direct him to the location, and he notices that there’s no music currently playing.

“Wanna connect your phone to play some music?”

“Oh no, that’s okay. You can play whatever.” you kindly smile.

“I listen to the same songs practically everyday. It’s getting old. How about you put on something, I could use something new.”

You feel a bit shy in sharing your music taste, but you see that he won’t take no for an answer. You give in and he helps you in connecting to the Bluetooth. A R&B playlist is what you settle for, as most of the songs in your curated playlist were comforting, catchy, and relaxing.

As the music’s going, you feel flushed and can’t reject the smile that creeps on your face as a favorite song of yours comes on. You notice from your peripheral Jeno nodding his head to the beat of the track, making you fix your attention to simply staring out the window to avoid him seeing how blushed and smiley you are.

After just a few minutes, he pulls into the school grounds, parking in the lot and you two unbuckle your seatbelts. There seems to be hardly anyone here. There’s maybe one or two cars parked, but nobody’s inside. There also aren’t any children on the playground or playing basketball like there normally would be. It seems a bit ghostly out.

With you two now sitting in the car in the practically-empty lot, you begin to wonder maybe this really was a dumb idea of yours.

I mean, what are you guys actually going to do?

With you two in this setting, wouldn’t people expect you two to be doing something shady or sketchy? Especially as the sky’s only growing somber by the minute.

“Do you care if I smoke a cig?” Jeno’s question interrupts your overthinking, making you turn, facing him.

“Go ahead.” you give him the green light to do so. It was his car after all.

Internally, you grimaced at now knowing the fact that he’s a smoker. You weren’t a fan of tobacco or nicotine, but if someone wanted to smoke, who were you to stop them?

Jeno rolls the window down halfway and reaches his hand into his door pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the stick in between his mouth, allowing his lips to hold it as he brings the lighter to the end.

He flicks the lighter and the click hits your ears. Your eyes stay hooked on him once you hear it.

Jeno took a few quick breaths to ignite it, and it lit with ease. He sucked and held the smoke in his mouth for a moment, then removed the cigarette from his lips, letting the hot chemicals cool down before releasing a steady stream of smoke into the air towards his lowered window.

He immediately feels the buzz of pleasure from the nicotine rush to his brain. The warm air embraces his lungs like a comforting hug, allowing him to relax after a long day of unpacking.

Meanwhile, you weren’t in favor of cigarettes. You don’t understand the appeal in smoking something that in the end, is probably going to lead you closer to death by shortening your lifespan and bring trouble to your body. The aroma it left was harsh and acrid, and even eye-watering.

Though, even with how strongly you felt about smoking cigarettes, why was Jeno making it seem attractive?

Your attention is captivated on the erotic bittersweetness of the sight next to you. He made it seem so effortless, like it was second nature to him.

He seemed so carefree and rebellious in this moment. He obviously doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. The habit was hazardous, but the youthful, handsome man with strong features smoking in a dark car was glamorous in your perspective.

Jeno has to refrain from grinning as he notices your wonderment. He takes another drag before shooting you a question.

“Have you ever smoked before?”

“Not a cigarette, no.”

He suddenly moves his right hand with cigarette in hold in between you two, towards an empty tray you just now were made aware of. He taps the ash off the cigarette onto the ashtray, and to your surprise, gestures it towards you.

“Wanna try?” his voice husky.

Your mouth falls barely agape, caught off guard by his question.

You have to admit, even though you strayed away from cigarettes due to the long run danger they pose, you can’t help the burning curiosity fueling inside in trying it at least once.

Jeno made it look oddly satisfying, even in the midst of the now tarnished air and molten stench.

One puff wouldn’t kill you.

“Sure.” you reply, eyelids blinking at the stick in between his fingers.

Amusement is written all over Jeno’s face. He had a hunch before you even said anything that you’ve never smoked a cigarette before. You just seemed too sweet for that.

He found it mirthful that you want to try for yourself, and with him. There was something exciting in the fact that he’s about to watch you take your first ever drag. Knowing it was your first, there was a high chance you were going to be appalled by it. But it was going to be fun to watch, almost like he was corrupting your sweetness.

He brings the cigarette towards you and you carefully take it pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

The smoke envelops your nostrils, and you feel clammy all of a sudden with the cigarette in your hold and Jeno focused on you.

You were already overthinking the way you probably looked to him right now, so obviously amateur. And it was going to be humbling when you’re left coughing or can’t do it correctly.

Jeno can practically hear your worrisome thoughts turning, and is quick to kick them to the curb. “You don’t have to do it just because I am.”

“I actually want to try at least once in my life— for the plot, y’know?” you chuckled.

“Okay then. Just know I won’t tease you. Nobody’s first smoke is perfect.” he simply smiles, immediately bringing you support.

You don’t waste anymore time for the cigarette’s sake and wrap your lips around it, hollowing your cheeks as you take a shallow drag.

Your throat instantly feels irritated and on fire, feeling tight with the smoke you’ve just inhaled. All the toxic chemicals blaze your throat and lungs, leaving a bad taste to your mouth and it feels almost-suffocating.

A couple coughs rip from your throat, and you attempt to cover your mouth with your free hand and turn your form slightly towards the right, trying to shield yourself away Jeno from your embarrassing coughing fit.

You each let out a different curse word due to your actions, making the both of you laugh— of which, lowkey makes your throat feel even worse. Jeno quickly reaches over and removes the cigarette from your hold, dumping the ash on the tray and he keeps it between his fingers as he rummages around his car for a possible drink he may have lying around.

Luckily, he finds an unopened water bottle in his backseat. It unfortunately is room temperature and he doesn’t know how long it’s been in his car, but he doesn’t hesitate in opening it and offering it to you, which you gladly take.

“God! I fucking hated that.” you huff out after taking a few sips, now feeling calm. The ashy taste still was lingering in your mouth, making you slightly frown. The scent of the smog was definitely going to cling to your clothes— thankfully, your parents weren’t going to be home tonight to be greeted by it.

“Everyone’s first cigarette is terrible.” he chuckles before taking another drag, looking graceful and natural in doing so.

You can’t help the ping you feel in your heart from how you two now practically shared an indirect kiss, him choosing to continue smoking the cigarette instead of putting it out. You’re starting to feel hazy.

“I don’t think i’ll be smoking that ever again.” you scoff, taking another sip of water before reaching for and screwing the cap back on, placing it on one of his cup holders.

“That’s good, it doesn’t really suit you.” he says before enveloping his lips around the stick again.

Your eyes squint barely as you feel slightly offended from his comment. After blowing out the smoke, he notices your expression, and adds on to his words.

“You’re too sweet for that.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“You’re a pretty girl with frilly polka dot shorts who waits outside for ice cream and has a sweet nature. You just seem like you don’t do bad stuff like that.”

Warmth climbs from your neck up to your cheeks, not being able to maintain eye contact once ‘pretty girl’ rang in your ears. Pretty girl? Fuck, why would he say that.

“Duality exists. People can have multiple sides to them.” you voiced, trying to dismiss his comment from before off your mind.

Jeno nods his head in agreement, “Can’t argue with that.”

“Smoking isn’t good for you, though. You should stay away from it.” he utters, about to take another hit from his cigarette.

An incredulous expression takes over your face. “Well look who’s talking.” you teased, shaking your head slightly.

He pauses at your words, not being able to help the breathy laugh that escapes his throat.

“Indulging in cigarettes is like a hobby to me. It’s too late for me. I’m locked in for life.” he twirls the cigarette around his fingers, then brings it to his lips once again.

“So then should I stay away from you?” you mindlessly say, making you clutch the bottom frills of your shorts for comfort as you await for his response.

Jeno blows out smoke towards the window and turns to you, your fingers playing with the fabric of your shorts. He can’t help how cute you look in his passenger seat. You look so delicate, even in the dark interior of his car, even in the thick of the secondhand smoke air.

He’s torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to tamper with you. He could get a cavity just by looking at you. You were delightful and so new and sweet to him. You can be timid but you’ve been so open to embracing your new neighbor. You were a ball of sunshine, and he was the kind of guy parents hated just based off his looks alone.

Like you had said, there can be multiple sides to everyone. Just because someone seems to appear one way on the outside, or you base their personality off one side they’ve shown you, doesn’t define their entire persona.

Jeno really wants you two to get close together. Call him desperate, but he can already feel growing chemistry between you two. You barely met, but Jeno can’t help how he’s already so drawn to you.

And he intends to get to know every part of you.

Your fingers continue to fidget with your shorts, thighs pressed together, suddenly feeling small and hyper aware of your own existence within his presence.

“I kinda don’t want you too.”

“I already like you too much, think I could use someone like you in my life.”

Your nervous system is a whirlwind currently, the opposite of calm. Blood rushes to your head in hearing his response, ears becoming warm. A tight-lipped grin stretches across your face while averting your eyes from Jeno.

You can’t help the nervous giggle that comes out of you, unable to contain your emotions. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and it’s not just due to the smoke floating around.

Fuck. You don’t even know what to say to that.

He grins at your figure, his words clearly stirring something inside you. You avoid his gaze, pupils suddenly finding your lap more interesting and easier to look at than to meet his own eyes as you feel bashful.

Your fingers run along the goosebumps that now decorate the bit of exposed skin from your thighs, coy and still unable to think of a response. He makes you feel so silly and dumb, falling for his charisma.

Jeno’s eyes fall into your lap, following your small movements. You were visibly fidgety. He couldn’t help in wanting to reach over and place a hand protectively over your thigh. He then wonders what it would be like to hold your hand, or to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, or to kiss your lips.

He wants to act on instinct. The attraction and desire he has for you is too much for him to bear with you next to him in his car— in an empty parking lot.

He abruptly rolls up his window and reaches for the water bottle you drank out of from the cup holder, opening it and using a tiny bit of water to carefully add it to the ashtray, to stub his cigarette out properly.

You finally look up towards him because of his movements, watching and locking eyes once he’s finished.

“Y/n…” Jeno begins, head cocked slightly to the side, swallowing before continuing. “Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” he practically whispers.

Your heartbeat feels like it pauses and sinks for a moment when you process his words.

Who would’ve guessed you’d be put in this position today?

Jeno’s eyes carry passion and intensity, awaiting for your permission or any answer. He’s craving for your attention, and he can’t deny the carnal desire within him to make each other feel good right now.

“I’d really love to kiss you.” he mumbles, eyes falling to your lips, head still tipped slightly, like a puppy concentrated on you.

The outside world and any miscellaneous thoughts are drowned out by the intention behind his eyes. The tense air and his admirable stare makes you feel a sense of vulnerability. Your own lips are trembling and heart flutters.

You’re lost from his eagerness and interest in you, caught off guard that he felt some attraction towards you while you’ve been trying to ignore how handsome this man was.

It’s been long since you’ve had any ounce of intimacy with another person. Loneliness has consumed you lately. With Jeno showing up in your life out of the blue, confessing that he wants to kiss you even from the little time you’ve known each other, it makes you feel validated and enchanted.

You peer down at the ashtray and center console, being a barrier between the two of you.

It would be slightly discomforting to kiss him over the compartment. But you really did want to kiss him.

Given the fact that you were parked in a parking lot during the late evening, you wondered in the back of your mind secretly of the possibility of him wanting to fuck you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be opposed to that idea in the slightest. A hot guy like Jeno wanting you was generating intense euphoria in your brain.

You were definitely nervous and timorous but fuck, you wanted him to feed your desires and take you heatedly.

“Would the backseat be more comfortable?” you finally manage to speak, viewing him with doe eyes. You knew what you were implying— a bold move for you but you now know that he wants it, too.

Patience never really was your thing.

Jeno’s lips curl upwards, sending you a knowing-look in response to your comment. He gestures with his head to the backseat, “You wanna?”

You merely swallow and nod your head, eventually letting out a faint ‘yes.’

Excitement charges him up in how fast things turned. He opens his own door first, with you following and opening yours a second after, making your way to the backseat on your respective sides.

Frisson is present within the pit of your stomach as you move to the back. Your body hairs are raised due to the tingling sensation rippling all throughout your skin.

You were excited but apprehensive. You were suddenly taking a leap into a new adventure, which was you about to get fucked by your new neighbor in the backseat— in a school parking lot. It was definitely indecent, but lust persisted.

Your pupils flickered around nervously as you each sat in the back, growing sweaty with every second that passes, wondering how this was going to play out.

Jeno takes note of your body language and immediately speaks up. “Are you okay with this? We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable.”

“I’m okay, just a bit awkward.” you sigh out with a slight laugh.

He smiles and looks down at the decent amount of empty space in between you two.

“C’mere.” he says, signaling towards his lap.

You take a breath as you slip out of your shoes and move closer to him. Jeno stretches his arms out, pulling your weight to seat you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your body stills, in disbelief that you’ve found yourself in this foreign position.

Although patience wasn’t your thing, this situation was unfamiliar to you. About to get fucked by someone you barely met was crazy for you. You craved him, but you were also scared something was going to go wrong, whether it was from you or him.

Jeno’s left hand rests on the small of your back, drawing circles with his thumb over the fabric of your t-shirt. His other hand slowly reaches towards the apple of your cheek, rubbing it carefully with the pad of his thumb.

Your tummy flutters wildly from his small touches and the desire emanating from his eyes as he scans you.

“Relax for me, pretty.”

“Can you touch me, hm?”

You don’t verbally respond. You pupils go back and forth between his face and neck as you hook your arms around the thick skin. Your lips parted in being careful with your movements, still in disbelief of this current moment. He called you pretty again.

He smiles at the feeling of your arms around him, and lowers his thumb down your face until it reached your lips, playing with your bottom lip, eyes hooked to something so inviting.

Your own eyes seek his lips, watching the tip of his tongue slip out to give his own a lick, making you force to resist in shifting in his lap out of anticipation or letting out a whimper.

He’s the one to rip the tension by seizing a kiss from you. He gently pulls your face in, and as his lips meet yours, your only focus was on the heat that ignited within you.

The kiss was warm and smokey. It was intense with the way his lips moved jointly with yours.

While you didn’t care for nicotine, the taste of Jeno’s lips was a drug you could see yourself becoming addicted to.

As more seconds pass, the kissing becomes increasingly passionate. You’re practically melting, and it intensifies even more with his scintillating touches.

He protectively keeps a hand around your back, keeping you in place and subtly pushing you in closer towards him. HIs other hand holds your jaw, keeping your face slightly angled and steady.

You can’t help but rub down your clothed crotch against his own, surprising you when your movement draws a deep moan from Jeno, making you quietly gasp.

“Fuck.” he breathes out before he meshes his moist tongue into your hot mouth, making you produce a moan in feeling the wet muscle explore your sensitive erogenous zone.

Your eyes are clenched shut and fingers suddenly find themselves messily fiddling through Jeno’s locks, mind and body lost in the rush of how you’re locked by his lips.

There’s a growing hardness felt through the lightweight material of your shorts. It’s a signal that he wants more, each of your endorphins going nuts by merely making out.

He pulls away from your swollen lips, breathless, hushed gasps filling one another’s ears. Jeno then maneuvers a hand to cradle the back of your head, and brings his face towards your left ear, simultaneously beginning to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Let me take care of you.” his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

His hands redirect to either side of your waist, feeling you up as he brings his face back and scans your face, awaiting for a verbal response.

“Please.” you whisper, warmth spreading across your skin.

“Please what?” he teases.

“Please undress me. Touch me— my body and pussy. Want you to.” you slip out, swallowing your pride. It was a bit embarrassing to say such things aloud in front of your new neighbor, but fuck it. He wanted you equally as bad.

Fully blushed and flushed out, your eyes fall down to stare blankly at his chest. Jeno is filled with amusement though, and hums in satisfaction at your words.

He smoothly reaches for your jaw and tilts it up so that you’re looking at him properly, bringing a buzz to your pussy from his dominance.

“You’re gonna be so good to me, sweet girl.” he says, caressing your face like you’re made of glass.

He brings you in for a couple more deep kisses, savoring how perfect your lips felt and tasted against his own.

He then confirms again with a nod if you’re okay to proceed further, to which you nod back, allowing him to remove your shirt. He also helps you shimmy out of those cutesy shorts of yours, tossing the clothes somewhere up front.

Although you still have your undergarments on and you agreed to do this, you feel so exposed and vulnerable now. Jeno was still fully clothed while he began to fiddle with your bra strap, which made this feel unfair.

“Let me take off your shirt.” you whined and batted your lashes at Jeno, causing him to halt his attempt in wanting to remove your bra next.

He can’t help but smile as you grab onto his flannel shirt, waiting for him to give you the signal to remove it. You were so fucking cute.

“My bad, pretty. I’m all yours.” he kissed your cheek before allowing you to do so, which made you burn inside with all kinds of sensual emotions.

He watched you in awe as you shakily started to undo all his buttons, entertained in seeing the curiosity behind your eyes of unveiling what lies beneath the fabric.

With his shirt now open, he fully removed it himself by pulling off the sleeves and threw it in the growing pile up front, leaving his entire torso bare.

Now uncovered, you can’t help the admiration beholding your eyes as you view his exposed skin.

It shouldn’t have been such a shocker that a handsome face like his had the perfect body to match: hard chest, sculpted abs, and lean waist that contrasted from his broad shoulders.

You really lucked out.

“Like what you see?” Jeno can’t help but snicker, aware that he had this effect on people. You just boosted his ego even more.

You can’t help but giggle at the cliche line, eyes timidly flying away from his torso. Unfortunately he doesn’t get a verbal response from you, but he knows how you feel inside.

“For the record… I definitely like what I see.” he traces the edges of your body, appreciating your skin and details.

Your eyes redirect to his face, watching him eye you hungrily, his fingers beginning to delicately feather over the lace detailing of your bra. Your breathing slows, air tense with you seated over him and his vision glued heartily on you.

His eyes find yours with his fingers still over your bra. You pump your chest out a bit, gesturing to him that you want things to proceed and to remove the rest of your garments.

He immediately leads his hands to your back, unhooking your lacy bra. Your mounds spill out as he removes it and tosses it to the side, the sight making his cock so pumped, full of blood.

“Beautiful girl.” he mumbles, then latches his mouth onto the underside of your ear, making you angle your face to give him better access.

The open-mouth kisses he leaves activates the nerves around your neck. It tickles for a second, but he hits that sweet spot of yours, making you melt.

You’d give into any demand of his with the way his warm lips suck and nibble over your delicate skin. You grind down into him, arms hooked around his neck, clutching for security or else you’d probably melt away.

Your sex only covered by thin panties rutting against his cock straining through his jeans has him groaning into your neck. He zealously continues to suck on your neck, adding gentle bites and hot licks in between, making you arch your neck to the front and moan out of pure bliss. You secretly hope he’d leave a mark or two, so you’d have a visual reminder of this heated night for a few days.

His kisses meander to your throat and chest, tongue sliding out to trace all around one of your areolas, lips then enfolding over the nipple.

Squeals of delight reign free from your throat at Jeno’s foreplay, continuing while he engulfs and sucks both your firm nipples.

“You sound so pretty for me, girly.” he rasps out, dragging his lips over your fleshy, supple breasts.

The nickname sends lightning straight to your core, making you whimper in neediness.

Jeno ends the fun with enjoying your tits to start the pleasure awaiting for him from your cunt.

His left hand holds you while his right hand travels down your tummy, until it reaches the bit of skin below your navel.

There’s a dark appetite visible in his orbs. He looks at you for any sign of uneasiness while his hand goes down. Your breath only hitches, pussy tingling with a quiet gasp from your mouth once his fingers rubbed down to your panty-covered cunt.

It’s so damp and warm down here, he thinks to himself.

“So horny, aren’t we now?”

The way he talks to you alone makes you ignite within.

He decides to pull your underwear to the side, his fingers now coming in full, bare contact with the outside of your pussy.

You’re practically holding your breath at this point, waiting for him to play with you, anticipating the feeling.

“Me too.” he utters, answering his own rhetorical question before he starts running his fingers slowly around your clit.

His touch on your swelling bud causes another hushed gasp to come from you. He’s beyond pleased by listening to all the noises your voice produces due to his sultry touches.

His finger tips slid over your clit and then inched down, feeling the outside of your sex and letting you grow accustomed to his touch.

He ends up sliding one finger up your hole, leaving your mouth ajar and body to quiver from him inserting it in.

Jeno’s tongue licks around his teeth while he fingers you, your walls so tight around his finger.

“Relax for me, hm?” he leans in to kiss you, easing your body to the feeling.

His lips continuously colliding with your own makes you lost for a moment, body fuzzy and loosened up until he decides to squeeze in another finger.

The jolt of pressure wrenched a moan out of you, making Jeno draw back to bite his lip and laugh quietly. It was such a turn on for him to listen and see the beautiful noises and faces you make— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

He was prepping your pussy for his own length, already salivating in thinking of you taking him whole.

His long, thick fingers curl into a ‘hook’ motion, causing your legs to shake in lust and a shiver runs inside your core that tingled.

“Mhmmm…” you mewled, starting to subconsciously grind and meet the movements of his fingers toying with your moist and velvety sex.

Watching your responses to his movements feels so good to Jeno. He can feel you start to clamp around his digits, making his own mouth open and turn into a smirk. His cock is painfully hard, begging to be free and feel that clamping sensation that his own fingers do. He really hates to rip you from nearing your climax, but he’d rather you both cum together, your body underneath his.

With that, he halts his movements and removes his fingers. A broken whine rips from your throat at the feeling of him leaving your needy cunt. You could practically cry. Desperation clouded over you.

Jeno quickly quiets you down with now inserting those sticky fingers of his inside your mouth, causing you to hum around his digits, eyes wide and then closed shut.

The fullness and heaviness from his fingers and your own essence weighing over your tongue has your pussy clenching over nothing. You eagerly suck your wetness from his fingers, not bothered that he was just in you. This was all so racy.

“Such a good girl for me— fuck.” he groans, watching you suck his fingers in, your teeth faintly raking over them, cock twitching at how dirty this sweet girl was.

“Gonna make you cum from my cock, don’t worry.”

He removes his fingers from your mouth, pulling you off his lap, motioning you to lay back down.

Your heart rate picks up as you carefully lie over his backseat. He traces the delicate curves of your hips and finds his way to the band of your underwear, you each sharing a nod of consent for him to remove them.

He tugs them down and off, tossing them and he gets you to pull your knees up, allowing more room for Jeno within this limited space.

He mentally whistles at the sight of your princess parts and the position you’re in, waiting for him to take you in the back of his car.

He doesn’t waste anymore time and hastily gets rid of his confining jeans and briefs, his cock immediately standing proudly once his underwear is pulled off.

The sight of his big and thick, towering manhood has your breath stuck in your throat.

While he moves and reaches over to dig for a condom in his glove compartment, your palms become sweaty in the thought of him squeezing his length inside you.

He looked absolutely delicious, but you weren’t sure if you could handle someone as big as him.

Jeno finds a condom, ripping the plastic open with his teeth and flings the wrapper out of sight. He stretches the rubber over his length, precum already leaking from his tip.

As he inches towards you, you can’t help but voice your concern.

“Will it fit? you shakily breathed.

Jeno can’t help but tilt his head, staring at you intently. His lips can’t help but curl, offering you a reassuring smile.

His lips suddenly find themselves over your knees, pressing a gentle kiss over both of them, making your heart pump with fondness.

“We will make it fit.”

“Let me know if it hurts, okay? Don’t want you in pain, pretty.”

“Okay.” is all you say, still sweaty, but ready for him to enter you, core aching to be touched again.

He massages the inside of your thighs with care, trying to ease you up some more. He grabs his length and rubs it along your folds— especially dragging the tip past your clit, making you moan at the sensation.

He finally takes it upon him to prudently push his cock into your entrance, his mouth open while he starts to stretch you out.

Your legs immediately hook around him and rest on his lower back, meanwhile your arms decide to cling onto his beefy biceps for support. You cry out a moan from the pressure.

“It’s okay, girly, I got you.”

“You’re safe with me. Gonna take care of you.” Jeno’s breath fans over your face before he captures your lips with his. His hips slowly begin to roll as you kissed him back with enthusiasm, a burst of adrenaline racing through your bloodstream.

Your walls practically swallowed him, cock fitting so snug inside you. His left hand brushed into your hair, running his fingers loosely around your locks, making you relax from his touch.

“God! You— you’re so big.” you blatantly puffed out, starting to feel his thick cock brush past your walls.

“Yeah? You can take it, pretty— right?” the blood in Jeno’s body starts to boil due to the warmth encompassing his length, and from the sense of pride filling him from your reaction to his size.

He begins to start a steady pace with his hip movements, sliding his cock in and out— not all the way, but enough to stimulate your sensitive walls.

He falls into a natural pattern as your body accepts him well. Your vision darts upwards towards the roof of the car, beginning to lose yourself to his fat cock.

Though it quickly lowers again when his head dips into your right breast, tongue slipping out and starting to twist around your erect nipple.

A mewl jumps out of you, hands redirecting to his muscular back with your nails pressing tightly into his skin.

“C��mon, talk to me.” Jeno rasps, making brief eye contact with you for a second before he briskly attacks your entire right breast with his mouth. He ferociously makes out with your mound and marks you, painting you with reddish-purple splotches and leaving the flesh sheening in spit.

His hunger for attention and to get you both off is ardent. Every other thrust into you is rigid. He was pacing himself at first to start off, but now his rhythm increases to fuck you hard and his length travels into you deep. He has no intention in holding back his horniness.

Lack of words from you aside from the whimpers and moans has him moving a hand to touch and toy with your clit. His calloused fingers alternate between softly pinching and sliding his fingers in a back-and-forth motion along the puffy bud.

“Oh— God! Jeno!” the attentiveness he shows to your aching clit while ramming into you has you scream his name. It has you automatically canting your hips up to meet his thrusts into you.

Your reactions and hearing his name from your voice drives Jeno wild. Breathy grunts leave his mouth, hips continuing in chasing both of your highs.

The current setting and moment is electrifying. Fucking in the car in a school parking lot was obscene and limited compared to bed space, but it was still extremely mind-numbing and euphoric sex.

Your frame caged under Jeno’s ripped body is like a dream. You felt so helpless in this position, but couldn’t possibly wish for him to stop. It was so hot seeing and feeling his figure fuck you into oblivion.

Your body rocking over the leather car seats only amplifies your feeling of sensitivity and arousal. God, how amazing it felt for Jeno to be pleasing you in this way was. You can’t even imagine how good it would be to fuck in other ways— in other places, with him.

His relentless efforts has your mouth stuck open. The arousement increases the amount of saliva within your mouth. Surprise catches you when some of it seeps out the corner of your mouth.

Your tongue lolls out in attempt to catch the drool before it fully falls, failing miserably as it rapidly trickles down from the corner, to your chin. Quickly, you wipe it off messily and then place your hand back over his skin, but it’s obvious that Jeno sees what just happened, as he’s right over you— much to your embarrassment.

Though, his cock surges in amusement, and so does his other head. You were literally drooling over his cock. How fucking sexy was that? Wonder how’d you look on your knees giving him the messiest head. Oh how he hopes to have that thought come to life one day.

“Mhm. So hot— fucking my cute, pretty neighbor. You like that too, hm? You like the feeling of your big neighbor on top and inside of you?” he teases you, watching your pretty figure being ruined beautifully by him. His filthy words mix with his dirty, animalistic movements.

“Feels so full and good, Jeno!” you choke out. You’re blissed out, feeling like the band in your core may snap soon.

There you go saying his name again, making Jeno groan repeatedly in ecstasy, dragging his cock deep into you, his weighty sack occasionally slapping against your bottom.

“Yeah? So full of me, pretty.”

“Taking me so well, like a good girl.”

Heat swells in your cheeks from his comments and the hot temperature and pressure felt as he fucks you. As much as you savor it, it’s becoming too much. The finish line is coming close to being ripped apart.

The thrill in the pit of your stomach has it churning. His long, deep strokes, each of your various moans bouncing off the tinted windows, his gruffly voice, and his finger-work over your sensitive bud— it’s all captivating you to feel an abundance of dopamine rush.

A shiver in your core tingles consistently. You’re beginning to lose control. It’s like you’re stoned and can’t focus on anything aside from the intensity of that tingly pressure present within you.

“Gonna cum, Jeno.” your voice cracked while your muscles tightened.

“Fuck,” he hisses at the tight grip of your walls swallowing him from the tip to base.

Your eyes rolled back behind your trembling lashes, and he watches with a keen stare and relishes in your smutty sounds. It all only encourages him to keep persisting to reach the peak.

And then, you finally break.

Your fluid expels from your pussy, lubricating your walls and leaving you a whimpering, wet mess.

Jeno pushes through your spasming, feeling the warmth spreading in your heated cunt through his condom. His own muscles can’t resist in clenching hard. He pushed you over the edge and possessed your mind and body with euphoria.

It’s practically heaven. His balls tighten and eyebrows push together with hips starting to slow down as strings of cum begin to fill his condom. It’s so relieving that a few guttural moans come out from his throat.

His hot seed falling into the condom is so fulfilling, sack emptied. All this activity has left him sweaty all over and mouth dry. His chest continues to heave and he carefully pulls out of you.

You shake and shiver now that the tension is dying down, and your muscles try to relax after the satisfying orgasm.

Jeno is quick to remove his used condom and tie it, abandoning it in a random spot in the car. He’ll of course, clean his car later.

He reaches towards the front of the car to search for his shirt, and then edges back to you.

“Hey, you were amazing, sweet girl. Let me help you.” Jeno spoke softly to you while the back of his fingers stroke one of your shaky thighs.

He began to use his shirt as a rag for any wetness seeping out and around the outside of your cunt.

You couldn’t help but flush at the aftercare he shows you, even while in a car and not hesitating to sacrifice his shirt to wipe your spills. Seems like chivalry isn’t dead after all.

“Thank you.” you say to him when he’s finished.

He just smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he sticks out a hand for you to grab, and helps you sit up next to him.

Still both fully naked, you still feel flushed and exposed now that the sex was over. Your breasts hanging out and his cock lying limp over his thigh was too hard to ignore. Jeno notices, and quickly gathers your t-shirt for you and his briefs for him, making you thank him once again.

You don’t know what to say now and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s obvious now that you two have an attraction to one another. But, where do you two go from here? Will this be a one time thing? Or maybe a friends-with-benefits type of deal? Guess you didn’t need a label right away, you barely know him. But you know you needed more of him, in any way— sexual or not.

In the midst of each of your silence, Jeno decides to reach for your hand, clasping his fingers with your own under his. He gently squeezes your hand, causing your own legs to squeeze together, beginning to feel a sense of giddiness inside.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, thumb beginning to soothe you as he drags it back and forth the side of your hand.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” the words leap out of you, making you cringe as soon as they come out.

Mortification washes over you. Why the fuck would you ask that? What are you even implying?

Your sudden question makes him chuckle and grin, especially now that you already fucked. You guys are just now having this conversation.

“No Y/n, I don’t. I’m one-hundred percent single.” he smirks at you, thumb still tracing your skin.

His answer is pleasing to your ears. You try not to show how obviously happy you are with that. A faint smile is all you allow yourself to show.

“You don’t have a boyfriend now, do you?” he tilts his head at you, eyes playful.

“I don’t.” you spoke softly.

Just like you, Jeno finds himself content with your answer.

“Good girl.”

ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Howl at Midnight

Pairing | werewolf!Jimin x human!Reader

Word Count | 7.5k

Warnings | +18, angst, smut, halloween theme, an apparently abandoned castle (don't trespass on other people's property 🤧), mentions of a pact made with the city's residents, poison, MC doesn't really have much choice 💀, forced nudity, dark themes and also yandere (?), underneath MC finds the situation exciting, bites and marks, sink the canines and drink blood, PWP, oral sex, pussy worship, dubcon, begging, virginity loss, unprotected sex (use protection!), vaginal sex, big dick, knotting, MC abandons herself to her fate (I think Jimin's supernatural nature contributes in MC's choices), eat cum, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is dark and yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You always thought you lived in a quiet, small town. You never imagined that the locals would be able to keep such a secret for centuries, you fell into their trap… But it doesn't seem so bad.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!!! 🥹

My best friend and I challenged each other to write a Halloween-themed story using the following keywords: werewolf - halloween - virginity - castle - poison.

I don't know why I came up with such a story, it was supposed to be something simple but my dark side took over WAY too much 💀

Anyway my best friend liked the story and suggested that I publish it, so here it is, I already apologize for any mistakes and for the plot which is not who knows what 🥺

Howl at Midnight was written for recreation, but I still hope you enjoy it ❤️

PS: I really didn't know how to classify this story, when in doubt I put the warning “yandere,” since there are behaviors that go a little beyond 😵‍💫

Permanent Taglist | @katherine-kookie, @btsuga-d, @reallygenerouskoala, @takemeaway5402, @velvet-stardust2002, @jimincrystal, @ke1k029, @kylafox09, @pantara, @themwordsblog, @angelicsmilesworld

It's a rather dark night, you think, as the flickering lights of street lamps barely illuminate your path. You and some of your friends have decided to spend Halloween night roaming the more desolate streets of your small town, rather than attend the party of the school's homecoming queen, the most popular and at the same time most hated girl ever by you and your friends, a common ground that has certainly welded your friendship.

You are reminded of the afternoon you spent at Glenn's house deciding how you would spend Halloween night; Glenn's initiative had been rather unique, since he was not a fan of that holiday.

“It will be fun, everything is so scary at night, we might even meet a real vampire! I mean, not like Edward Cullen, I mean one who doesn't sparkle-” but Glenn's excited monologue had been badly interrupted by his girlfriend, Claire, who had hit him over the head with a book, and who knows why, said book was actually titled Twilight. You remember giggling, willingly accepting that idea, but now...

“We were simply supposed to go for a walk, Glenn,” you mutter ruefully, looking around, “Do you want to tell me where you're taking us?”

The red-haired boy snorts again, settling into his vampire costume bought at a thrift store stall, “Come on Y/N, what would life be without a little thrill?”

Claire, for her part, nods in turn with a euphoric smile, as if she knows something you don't, prancing merrily dressed as a red devil among black lace decorations and lace.

“Life would be as it has always been, wonderful,” you blurt out nervously, freezing suddenly.

The asphalt has run out and the streetlights have stopped dimly illuminating the entire street, you are at the edge of the most talked about lands in your town. When and how exactly did you get there?

“Here we are, my girls,” you hear Glenn say, satisfied with his feat.

“What are we doing here?” you swallow, far from cheerful.

Answering you is Claire, “It's an abandoned castle and this is Halloween night, what do you say?”

You grit your teeth, shaking your head, “You're crazy, I'm not going in there!” you take a step back, your heart stirring, but Glenn stops you in a single moment.

“Where do you think you're going? I promised your brother I'd keep an eye on you,” he tells you sternly, and you know he's right, you can't just leave on your own, the streets are empty but it would still be dangerous.

“Don't you want to see what it's really like inside, aren't you the least bit curious?”

Short answer? No.

More articulate answer? Fuck no.

“Come on, don't be a wimp now!”

You snort, casting a glance at the castle in question.

It is as large as it is gloomy; the older inhabitants of the town have always spoken of the presence of various monsters within it, which is why the lands surrounding the castle are so large, preventing the actual growth of the otherwise large and well-populated town. Some of the land had been ceded to keep the monsters quiet.

That's some bullshit. And you're certainly not a wimp.

What will you find in there, maybe overgrown spiders? You shake your head, certainly nothing up to the Acromantulae seen in Harry Potter.

“I'm not afraid,” you limit yourself to saying, Glenn and Claire seem satisfied with your answer as they begin to step over half of the downed iron bars surrounding the gates of the immense building. It bothers you that they haven't bothered beyond you, but it's Halloween night; you can't really spoil their fun.

You hold on tightly to one of the rusty old iron bars, lift one leg trying not to fall off because of the bulky skirt of your witch costume, and end up straight on the ground covered with dry mud and grass, thank the heavens that it hasn't rained in the last few days, otherwise goodbye costume, although more like an elegant medieval dress and nothing more than that.

“Guys, wait for me!” you exclaim as you turn toward them, but you find yourself rolling your eyes.

The darkness is almost completely pitch black, only the moon high in the sky gives you some brightness in that open space surrounded by green trees and uncultivated grass. Your friends are not there.

“Please tell me this is a joke, please,” you growl, turning only a few seconds to climb over the railing, “Glenn? Claire?”

A shiver of unease snakes down your spine, as if someone - or something - is watching you. But you immediately banish the absurd thought. The Halloween atmosphere always makes everything quite scary; your friends chose that place for that very reason.

Imagining that you simply find them in front of the castle's entrance, you also wander down the path that actually looks like anything else by now. You will meet each other there.

The wind blows without worrying about your bare shoulders because of the dress's boat neckline; the cape had long since been taken away along the way. You bought it in an antique store and the elderly man seemed quite eager to get rid of it. He even gave you a discount.

The sound of falling leaves under the force of the draught is quite terrifying, especially now that you've discovered you can't use your cell phone. There is absolutely no service there, and isn't that how the best horror movies begin?

A frustrated groan leaves your throat, you don't have to think about it.

“Glenn?” you try to call out once more, but along the path echoes the hoots of an owl that is probably scrutinizing you with condescension, wondering why a silly girl like you is wandering around in such a desolate, godforsaken place.

When you arrive at the gates of the castle, you find yourself admiring the extraordinary Gothic architecture of the huge, ancient building made of stone and marble. The fact that it has survived over the centuries without any kind of restoration is a testament to the good materials that were used.

One by one, you walk down the stone steps, sudden thunder jolts you violently, and with fear in your veins you throw yourself toward the immense reinforced door, finding it ajar, a sign that Glenn and Claire must have already entered. You ignore the hint of annoyance, since they could at least wait for you, you must escape the sudden storm.

Wordlessly you notice the large, thick black clouds enveloping the sky, obscuring even the immense full moon.

You carefully close the ancient gateway, looking around the thick-walled atrium decorated with paintings that are surely worth more than your current home, not to mention the carpet you are walking on, though a bit worn, is definitely from the time of the castle's founding. You wonder which lord lived there and whether it can be traced in the history books.

“Claire?” you whisper, afraid of disturbing someone, but who exactly?

Sighing wearily, you really have no time or inclination to play along with your friends, you rest your hand on the wrought-iron railing of the staircase, beginning to climb so that you can find those two idiots as soon as possible and get home safely.

They say 'God makes them and then matches them up,' right? You mentally growl, well, you would’ve just wiped them out instead.

Between corridors that are not real corridors but dead ends, some narrow and some exaggeratedly large, you finally find the wing reserved for rooms, hating the enormity of that place.

“Hey, you ... are you here?” you ask, slowly opening a bedroom door with one eye closed and one only slightly open, fearing to find the two lovebirds doing strange things in the leto of an abandoned castle, because they would be perfectly capable of it.

But what you find is just a lavishly decorated bedroom absolutely empty of any other life forms but you.

“This is definitely a joke,” you chuckle mirthlessly, clutch your arms to your chest, and continue that unwelcome tour of yours, continuing to open rooms at random, with no more expectation of finding anyone in them, until you come to a rather large bedroom.

Quite different from the others, which up to that point had been yes, beautiful, but empty, lacking a soul.

This one was immense just like the castle itself, yet warm, thanks to the burning fireplace. The four-poster bed was adorned with red silk sheets, as were the velvet curtains tied to the solid wooden columns, on the walls finely decorated with gold paint were hung medieval tapestries, depicting hunting parties, running horses and wolves, wolves everywhere. One that particularly strikes you depicts two wolves and a woman in the center, they seem ready to bite her fiercely, you notice with discomfort.

High glass windows with curtains left open allow lightning to illuminate the entire room, followed by a terrible, howl-like rumble.

That horrible noise seems to awaken you from the sort of trance you fell into while admiring the surely master bedroom, and you finally take serious note of the burning fire. Why a working fireplace in a castle uninhabited for years?

“To many the night brings counsel, to me it has brought a lovely maiden, I see...” you gasp surprised and terrified, turning toward the silky, warm, yet slightly hoarse, almost growling voice.

A relatively young man watches you with his shoulder resting against one of the stained glass windows. You had not seen him. No. He was not there before, you are absolutely sure.

His dark, shiny hair has been grown down to his neck, some curling around his sharp, elegant jaw, the neck left bare by his unbuttoned, white shirt is a set of sinuous, sharp, powerful lines. The soft black pants do nothing to hide the wonderful figure of his long legs, his feet are bare, you notice. He feels perfectly comfortable, as if... as if that were his home.

“I-I... I'm sorry, it's Halloween and some friends of mine thought...” you try to explain with your hands clasped to the skirt of your dress, but you are immediately interrupted by the man's sophisticated, sassy giggle.

“They thought it was a brilliant idea to violate my property?” you pale at his question.

“We... the whole town believes the castle is uninhabited,” you reply with a shy breath, trying to justify them.

The young man breaks away from the glass window, slowly approaching you, you take steps back, inadvertently bumping into one of the pillars of the bed.

“And does it look uninhabited to you, little girl?”

Little girl? By the look of him, he wouldn't seem that much older than you, in fact.

Now that he has moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, you notice details of his face that you did not catch a few moments earlier.

He has high, pronounced cheekbones, and his lips seem so plump and soft that you blush at the thought of kissing them, his nose is well-proportioned and straight, while the peculiar shape of his eyes gives him a rather sweet and angelic air, although the fun written in them is anything but angelic.

“I didn't know, I'm really sorry, sir,” and it's true, the last thing you want is to be a nuisance to someone you don't even know, “I'll get my friends back and we'll leave right away, I promise.”

Dark eyes rimmed with long eyelashes watch you closely, before dropping to the rest of your body. Suddenly you remember the deep cleavage of your witch's dress, your skin burning under his watchful gaze.

“Right now there is no one else in the castle, except you and me,” he approaches again, you can feel his warm breath meet your neck, you shiver as the man clasps one hand above your head, around the pillar of the bed, doing the same with the other. This makes it clear how statuesque his physique is, compared to your more petite one, you also catch a subtle citrus fragrance, light and not cloying, is that him?

With a huge effort, you process his words, widening your eyes. No one else?

“But how-”

“In my opinion you made it all up, little girl,” he sneers, "Just admit that it was your curiosity that drove you here," but you shake your head, vehemently denying it.

“I really came here with friends!” you fret, you've never been good at handling pressure and this guy is not helping you at all.

“Oh, really?” a devilish smile makes its way across his soft, smooth cheeks, "So it's just a coincidence that you're wearing this dress?" you don't know how to answer the question, you can't, not when he lowers a hand over you, brushes the outline of your face with a finger, trailing down the delicate line of your neck to your cleavage, your rippling, shivering skin longs to receive his touch once more, you struggle to recover.

“Th-this dress?” you stammer in shame, his finger is still grazing your chest and you are doing nothing to push it away.

“Mh-mh,” he nods, pushing your cleavage down a few millimeters, enough to make you squeak with red cheeks, “How much do you know about this castle and its owners, little girl?”

Nothing, you'd like to answer, but your eyes already communicate your answer as he pulls back, finally letting you breathe. His scent still hovers around you, though.

“Year 1479, the people of the town of Howl enter into an agreement with the seven lords of Midnight, ceding a part of their lands to these noble lords and agreeing to send a virgin once every ten years, on the so-called Halloween Night,” he narrates, leaving you speechless, “In return, none of the townspeople would be hunted down and killed, does that ring a bell?”

“L-Listen to me, I really don't know what you're talking about, I definitely have to go now,” you nod at your own words, but the door slams shut along with a new and terrible rumble, an anguished cry involuntarily leaving your throat.

“The dress you're wearing is soaked in poison, little girl” the imperious tone terrifies you, automatically your body closes in on itself, as a kind of protection.

“This must definitely be a joke, it is Halloween after all,” you whisper to yourself with tears in your eyes.

“It's a security, for us. It ensures that the girls don't run away, because we are the only ones who can neutralize that poison” you don't know why the man started speaking in plural, you just know that you have to leave, even though something inside you is screaming at you not to. Because it could end very badly.

“You'd better take it off, your body might absorb more poison than is really necessary, the sooner we start the better,” he sighs, beginning to take off his white shirt, showing off a well-built, smooth chest and abs studded with thin scars lighter than his skin, swallowing without any more salivation, following long lines of black ink that weave across his pecs, forming some kind of mark, perhaps related to some cult.

“What are you doing!”

The man tilts his head, his soft hair following the movement meekly, and grasps the edge of his pants, running his forefinger and thumb over it defiantly as he watches you, “I'm taking what was given to me, little girl,” he sneers again, not at all impressed by your shock.

It was not uncommon for him and his brothers to be served girls who were totally unaware of their own destiny, they were tiresome at times, they would not stop shaking and crying, praying not to be deprived of their purity, but you smell so delicious that it might make him go beyond your dullness.

The fabric of his excellent quality pants slowly flows over the flawless skin of his toned legs, the blood rushes straight to your cheeks, and your heart misses a beat with a strangled “iiih” as you realize that the stranger has not only freely undressed in front of you, but is not wearing any underwear.

You've certainly never seen a naked man in person, but based on your anatomy books, that is definitely not a normal penis.

With a strange feeling of dizziness and no little embarrassment, you realize that even at rest, it is definitely big, with a swollen base almost as big as perfectly round testicles and such obvious purplish veins that you wonder if it is actually already hard, in its own way. Could that vibrant pink be an indicator? God, what the hell are you thinking?!

After a little dizziness your eyes fly to the closed door, you have to leave, run.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks you, smiling with a hint of danger in his eyes, “Do you want to run? Run away from me? Know that this will only excite me more.”

You try to look away from his cock, with extreme difficulty, as he spoke, his cock had moved slightly, as if agreeing with the man's words. You ignore the slight jolt between your legs.

“If I can get through the gates of your property, will you let me go?” you propose almost shyly, staring into his sly eyes.

“Um... if I let you go, you'd die from the poison, but if that's what you want...” he shrugs, making you frown. The story of the poisoned dress might be bullshit to convince you to let him fuck you, but what if it's not?

You shake your head, it's all just a bluff. This man is clearly a pervert, maybe he gets off on fucking on such nights with stranger women.

“That's what I want.” you assure with a note of panic in your voice, the desire to escape is so urgent you can hardly think, “Open the door.”

But the man shakes his head, “Strip and I will leave you free to roam my lands until I find you.”

“I don't-!” the words die between your lips, his singsong expression gone, giving way to a sternness that clashes with his regal features, the difference making that contrast frightening.

“I like to play, little girl ... but I don't tolerate whining, don't make me angry, because I might decide to take you now, we have a bed available right here and now,” he hisses, clenching his fist against the polished wooden backboard of the four-poster bed. The more he looks at you, the more his balls throb fiercely; he's trying to control his desire; if his cock hardens, that's the end.

You're the first woman he's seen in 60 years, finally his turn has come, and there's no way he'll let you go. Do you want to play? He'll let you, but eventually you'll give in to his desires. The scent of your sweet virgin pussy makes his wolf growl, eager to get out to meet you.

Perhaps you sense something strange, because with trembling fingers you go to unbutton the side opening of your dress, a little sorry to him, the plunging neckline raises and shapes your breasts invitingly, though the stench of the poison with which it is imbued leaves him disgusted. An idea of humans to persuade chosen women not to flee, his eyes scroll over the ancient clock hanging above the door, the hands turn and you have just four hours to go before the poison takes effect, killing you. He would be sorry to see you die without having had a chance to taste you first.

“Tic-Tac, the clock is ticking, little girl... the slower you are, the more likely you are to die,” he informs you with a smile, your fear written all over his face igniting his loins; he has to restrain himself so he doesn't jump on you, and you're aware of that now, too.

Your eyes study his shoulders, they have stiffened noticeably, and with embarrassing speed you unfasten the last side button, letting the soft black fabric of your dress slip off like a veil, leaving you in your bra and panties. You start up under his eyes, which move to observe every nook and cranny of your body, from the soft breasts enclosed in the cups of the purple lace bra, going lower and lower, past the delicious curve of your hips to the tightly clasped mount of Venus covered by more purple lace. You yourself realize that for a man who wants to possess you, that kind of lingerie might make you look like a neatly wrapped gift in his eyes.

“Don't stop,” he tells you hoarsely, his eyes veiled with glowing lust.

The blood leaves your veins; if he were to take you, you would already be ready to receive him. As your fingers move to get rid of your bra as well, you realize you don't find it such a disturbing idea after all, even when you finally pull down the light fabric of your panties, showing off something no boy has ever had the honor of looking at, his nostrils flaring as if to inhale something in the air, you are aroused.

“You'd better start running, little girl, I'm going to give you exactly twenty seconds head start,” his voice comes out as a guttural sound, making you widen your eyes and really run, when the door suddenly opens wide.

You don't even wonder what strange contraption he used to close or open the door without having to physically do it, you just know you are definitely in danger.

Every nook and cranny of the castle is an unknown, he owns it, he may know passages unknown to you; therefore, you always try to wander the corridors with no visible openings. A tense, animalistic roar makes you scream in terror, with spirited eyes you look down the stairs, you are close to the stairs to the hall, the door has not been locked, you just need more time, you can make it.

You sling yourself barefoot down, almost tumbling from your haste and throw yourself out, skipping the stone steps and then to the wild path, short of breath and fear dictating your decisions, you remember it took you a good twenty minutes to get to the castle, but walking the whole path is out of the question, it would be too obvious and easy, you necessarily have to lengthen the path and consequently put in more time to get away from that terrifying place.

With horror you realize that you don't know where Glenn and Claire might be at all, would he hurt them if he found them?

Of course he would.

You don't know the man, but you have noticed all too well the bestial aura around him; he is someone capable of harm, and he will harm you if you cannot escape him.

Your feet step on scattered branches on the ground and you whimper trying to ignore the pain, another roar - or maybe it's a howl? - rips through the air, mingling with the howls of the rushing wind, and you stifle an anguished cry.

Scratches open along your body, trees ravaged by bad weather and never tended seem to want to block your way in every way possible, and the darkness certainly doesn't help.

Like a wounded animal you limp aimlessly, not imagining the hunger of the ravenous beast that sneers at the scent of your blood.

You feel tired, sluggish at times, your peripheral vision somewhat obscured, an excruciating doubt makes its way into your mind. Could it be that the story of the poisoned dress was true?

But why sell it to you, how could the seller have known that your friends would take you to that castle on Halloween night?

You begin to stagger, a sharp twinge in your head stops you, it is so painful that you collapse on the icy, muddy ground.

You realize you are screwed in every sense of the word when a weight suddenly crushes you to the ground, you scream in terror and wide-eyed, trying to shake it off.

Jimin doesn't think twice about clasping you in his vigorous arms, burying his nose on your neck damp with cold sweat, the accelerated beat of your heart rumbling in his own chest, driving him to moan with need. He presses himself against your soft curves, basking in your feverish warmth despite the stormy, icy night.

“Don't hurt me,” you shake your head with your eyes closed, trying to fight the unusual fatigue to plead with him, "Please, I was wrong, forgive me...I won't come back here again, I swear," the boy snorts against your flustered skin.

He reluctantly lifts himself up to allow you to turn toward him, you find some strength to open your eyelids wide, being invested by his sometimes divine appearance. His eyes, no longer as black as you thought they were, are tinged with an extraordinary shade of gold, he watches you from receptive pupils as you notice the grin on his mouth, a mouth larger than you remembered. There is something strange, not human, about him now. And despite the run he must have made to keep up with you, he doesn't have the slightest hint of fatigue in his breath, he's as fucking fresh as a newly bloomed rose.

“You're dying, little girl,” he hums, shaking some hair off your forehead, you lose a beat at the sight of long claws where once there were short, well-manicured nails.

The claw grazes your skin unhurriedly, you feel it scratch without hurting, you anxiously lick your lips closing your eyes, you are so sleepy that you even willingly accept your fate, Jimin snorts through his nose, almost laughing, before lowering himself onto your jugular.

It would be really easy for him to sink his canines into your flesh and bite your throat to rip it out, but fortunately for you he is not a vampire. All he wants is to sink his cock into your pussy and make you cum repeatedly, but if you died it would be hard to put his plan into action. He wants you alive and receptive.

He licks a long streak of saliva onto your delicate neck, heedless of the dirt that has stuck to your skin, before gently biting you. Your reaction is immediate, you start sobbing like a puppy at the feel of his fangs penetrating your flesh, you cling to his shoulders trying to move him weakly from you, and you kick awkwardly with your legs, legs that are locked in a vice grip by his. That way it is easy to feel something hard and heavy pressing against your belly, you try not to think about it as the man seems inebriated by the taste of your blood flowing straight down his throat.

The bitter taste of the poison is revolting, but fortunately your blood has such sweet notes that it counterbalances that horrendous taste in a balanced way, here, now he just has to lick your wound thoroughly. He collects the last rivulets of your blood with his tongue, before dripping his saliva into the tiny holes created by his sharp canines, little holes that begin to close with light smoke, cauterizing the wound and partly removing the poison toxins from your blood.

With no longer a grip on your throat, your head falls limply back to the ground, you gasp trying to fight off the shock of such an experience.

“Mpf!” his tongue invades your mouth treacherously, the taste of your blood making you squeal on his lips, so unfairly soft and pleasant to the touch. The hot and unusually long muscle pushes into your oral cavity eagerly, saving your life has as if awakened the more primal side of Jimin, one of the seven lords who unleashed hell in Howl's town. And the mating ritual has begun, but you cannot know this.

You break free by gasping for air, “W-why?” you stutter breathlessly, “You don't even know me!” you cry as you drive your nails into his forearms, triggering in return a reaction of possession in him, prompting him to grab your thighs and lift them onto his shoulders to your profound horror, he is so wild as he spreads your legs wide open to sink his face in between them that you can't utter a single breath.

As he runs his tongue along your pulsing, hot folds, Jimin realizes with nastiness that during your escape you got wet for him, he had smelled your arousal as he pursued you, on some people the quickened heartbeat has that effect, but the sweet and slightly salty taste of your juices are now a definitive proof for him. And you can't deny it, you love how he teases you by slowly sliding around your swollen clit, plays with it by holding it between his lips and then releasing it after sucking hard, almost biting it. He tortures it by pricking it quickly with the tip of his tongue and then returns to lapping your thick juices from the soft slit, which seems to melt every time that devilish tongue penetrates it, managing to lick and stimulate walls that a normal tongue could never reach.

You shyly move your pelvis against his face, your thighs stained with your arousal tremble against his cheeks, and a terrible heat makes you pant desperately. The man abandons your slit to push himself again against your unbearably sensitive folds, they are so moist that you can hear the noise they make every time that cursed tongue stimulates them to push a few millimeters toward your clitoris, never reaching to touch it.

“God!” you curse, suddenly reaching out an arm to grab his hair, not recognizing yourself when you desperately push him against your pussy, longing for the pleasure he was spoiling you with at first.

His arousal makes him grunt like a wounded animal as he sinks into your core with languid, sensual movements, rewraps your desperate clit with his lips and tongue before continuing with more direct, zigzagging movements, crushing it at times with the flat part of his tongue and then flicking it with the tip soon after. He would never stop kissing and licking you like that, his tensed cock vibrating each time he eats you up a little more, delightedly swallowing your juices, enjoying retrieving them each time they flow between your wide-open, rosy thighs. A clearer, liquid substance squirts slightly out of your slit, causing you to shake around his head, you clench your lower lip between your teeth with tears sliding down your flushed cheeks, you are instigating Jimin to pleasurably hurt you, and the funniest thing is that you don't even notice.

Finishing licking some of that shiny, transparent substance from your inner thigh, the boy moves up your body, biting slowly at the flesh of your belly and then higher and higher to the softness of your breasts, titillating a turgid nipple before pulling it between his lips.

“W-What are you doing to me?” you gasp, wishing he would never stop adoring and cuddling your body, why? Just moments before you were running from his clutches, why are you lifting your pelvis now, inviting him to take you as if you've been waiting for this all your life?

“Are you just...” he murmurs, before kissing your chin with his devilish lips, "Responding to your desire" he kisses your mouth again, an electric sensation forcing you to comply, chasing his tongue with yours, collapsing to the spicy taste that is now all over his mouth, your taste.

With half-closed eyes you realize that the dark lines of ink are moving, taking the shape of a wolf watching you, you have no way to comprehend the unsettling sensation that invades you. The man, with one hand pressed against your bare back, forces you to turn away without you having any say in the matter, you find yourself with your face to the ground and the wind blowing down your back, shivering under his fiery, golden eyes, your legs trembling from the effort to keep you on your hands and knees, fighting the sweet pain pulsing in your naked pussy.

“Now hold still, little girl,” he murmurs in your ear in a husky voice, sensuously pumping his cock with one hand, swollen veins pushing against his palm, which squeezes along the entire shaft to the base, then back to the thick tip from which he is already dripping his thick cum, "I need to get all the venom out of your pretty little body, am I right?" he sneers, positioning himself at your entrance.

You open your eyes wide, panic stifled by arousal, but it's still there nonetheless, clenching your fingers between the grass and damp earth, rubbing your knees against pebbles that make you moan in pain. The length of his cock begins to push against your slit, forcing it open for him, a choked cry leaves your throat, feeling your walls that, despite their wetness, struggle to let him in.

“You're still so tight,” hisses the man unfamiliar to you, "I must spoil you some more, huh?" he chuckles, sliding his hand between your legs, using his index finger to stimulate your throbbing bud, you gasp arching your back and raising your buttocks toward the man, who takes the opportunity to plunge his cock another inch into your entrance, which throbs and squeezes him rhythmically, almost making him lose control of the situation.

The sensation of the claw grazing your folds each time he presses and massages your swollen clitoris brings you almost to the edge, you feel a wild sexual desire, something you never experienced even during your teenage years, a crucial period of sexual development.

“Go ahead, please!” you exclaim breathlessly, pressing your forehead against the ground, every single millimeter that moves inside you without really penetrating you is like torture, your index finger moving languidly, and you're going fucking crazy.

“Are you really begging?” he teases you, you grit your teeth until it hurts, but finally you give in.

“Please... fill me, take me!”

“Do you want it?” he asks again, pulling the tip almost completely out, the only part he had managed to get in, you clench your legs desperately trying to recover what your intimacy has lost.

“Yes! I want it! I want your cock, I want it to fill me all the way, and I want it now!” you growl with an anger that burns under your skin, looking at him from behind, his face is an emotionless mask, but his eyes...oh, those never lie, you read the fire of desire in them, he's suffering that anticipation as much as you are. Bastard.

“You begged for it so well, little girl... I'll just have to satisfy you,” the cavernous tone clashes with his appearance, but it anticipates what happens next and leaves you breathless, abandoning your contracted clitoris he grips your hips tightly, almost penetrating your delicate flesh with his claws, pushing himself into you with a vigorous thrust, instantly breaking the thin membrane at your entrance, effortlessly. The burning that follows makes your eyes water, your body instinctively trying to escape the man's savage assault, suddenly realizing that you have lost your virginity that way, out in the open, sweaty and dirty, just like an animal.

The man on top of you hisses and makes strange deep sounds, inebriated by the sensation of his throbbing cock finally and completely squeezed between your trembling walls, trying to adjust to the abnormal size. You gasp whimpering, moving your pelvis trying to disentangle yourself from the overgrip, his claws are hurting you, but he doesn't seem to want to let go, not now that he is buried so deep.

With a grunt he thrusts out slightly, watching as your pussy instinctively clings to him, as your thick juices and virginal blood wet his entire length, lubricating him. Leaning toward you, he lets a long trickle of saliva fall back between your buttocks, slipping between them reaches the point where you are joined. He thrusts back into you forcefully, striking deeper and deeper, and you feel every detail of his cock penetrating you and thrusting higher and higher, touching points so delicate and sensitive that you howl meekly, like a she-wolf offering her whole self to her mate, the pain has been replaced by the need to be possessed, you move against his pubes with urgency, the thread of pleasure is getting thinner and thinner, you feel incredibly wet, practically soaked, and the sounds of your union are so obscene that you are shamefully aroused. Your walls flutter drunkenly with pleasure, at one point with the thick, red tip he manages to hit the entrance to your cervix with precision, you stiffen whimpering breathlessly, and Jimin collapses on top of you, continuing to move his hips tirelessly and with spellbinding sinuosity.

You take it so well that it is impossible for him not to want to have you again and again, throwing back his head to be hit by the moonlight that increases his desire, his pupils widen and he feels his testicles clench with urgency as the base of his cock swells, making him shake all over. Without a second thought, he begins to enter you with deeper and longer thrusts so that his whole cock sinks into you without any more constriction, he hears you panting and crying and this only causes him joy, you are completely abandoned to him and your sensations.

You're about to come, you're not so ignorant that you don't know what's happening to your body, you've even heard of intense orgasms, but this... god, this is going to be devastating, you know very well. It's nothing like the ones you had with masturbation, this one is deeper, snaking through your lower belly and you feel it in your uterus. You stiffen all over, trying to block the erection that keeps pinning you down between hard, sensual thrusts, every time it touches your cervix you risk going crazy.

“Don't stop me, little girl... It's here, isn't it?” he gasps at you, slamming into you once more, high up between the entrance of your uterus and another sensitive area that makes your clitoris and walls tear with intense pleasure, your toes curl and you can't help but nod desperately, "Alright, love," he replies without even realizing it, kissing your bare, sweaty shoulder, his knot is almost complete, but he wants you to come before he gives you his cum.

He teases a sensitive, turgid nipple with the tip of a claw as he reaches the point of your union, massaging your folds to help you come, though with a hint of naughtiness he doesn't dare touch your clitoris, he wants you to orgasm on your own, knowing that the intensity then will be greater and you will collapse weak and distraught in his arms.

“Oh, fuck-!” you widen your eyes, being hit by a pressing and beautiful sensation of jouissance, sucking him furiously into you amid tremors and searing waves of pleasure, the same clear liquid as before leaks from your slit, this time in a greater quantity, causing Jimin to grunt as he is run over by your jet, slamming into you almost brutally, streams of his cum fiercely fill your core, as if to mark you for life, and finally his knot swells completely, locking him inside you.

Although immobilized, he cannot stop coming, his testicles quivering violently, and only one thing could quell his aching desire. With his eyes now almost completely encompassed by the black pupil, he pushes your hair away from your neck, exposing your previously tortured skin.

“Why does this go on?” you ask feverishly, confused by the enormous weight widening your walls and locking his big cock into you.

“Sssh” he rubs the tip of his nose against you, making you shudder, "Just wait a little longer" his words are followed by an excruciating twinge, his grown canines penetrating like blades into your skin and sinking into your flesh amidst your shocked and submissive screams, your body surrendering to his force, instinctively submitting and waiting for him to finish marking.

Jimin loves blood, your blood, it pleasantly bathes his tongue with its density and sweetness, he moans with need as he loses himself in your scent, instinct commands him to move his hips once more, even though you are both locked together, with a weak moan you take in the last strings of his cum, resting possessively in your belly, you feel heavy and unbearably full, but at least he seems to be finished, you feel him relax as he once again licks the holes left by his teeth, healing them. He looks like a wolf cleaning up after his mate after mating.

“What are you?” you ask wearily, by now surrendering to the idea that the man cannot be a mere human, that probably everything he has told you, from the poison-soaked dress to the deal with the town, is real.

“Jimin” you hear him grunt at such a low frequency that if you hadn't been alone, you probably wouldn't have heard him. You snort weakly.

“I asked you what you are, not your name,” you murmur, the strange, heavy weight preventing you from moving, hissing as Jimin moves awkwardly between your legs, putting you in a more comfortable situation, letting you rest against his chest lethargically, occasionally kissing the back of your neck and licking your neck, or behind your ear.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't like all that attention; you feel a delicious bite around your heart as you cling to his embrace, protected from the evening chill.

You don't know exactly how long you spend like this, maybe forty minutes, maybe an hour, the fact is that finally that thing between your legs seems to melt away, making you sigh almost strangely.

Jimin gently untangles himself from you, leaving your warm shelter slowly and with a feeling of emptiness that stuns you, your legs finally relax and you try to move them to regain some mobility, you feel his cum pushing to come out and two of his fingers enter you, plugging your entrance. No claws, you notice as he slowly turns you around.

You hiss at the burning, your knees are completely ruined, but Jimin begins to sprinkle them with kisses and saliva, the man is back between your thighs again, you can see his long, wild hair shining as he licks and sucks your skin from time to time, all the way to his fingers, he moves them slowly inside you and you twitch involuntarily, closing your eyes at the warmth of his tongue licking a thick streak of cum and juices dripping roughly from you, pushing it down to your hypersensitive clitoris and you moaning in pain.

“Don't do it,” you gasp, closing your legs tightly, but he doesn't give up, grabbing your chin between two fingers and forcing your mouth wide open, your heart faltering with a strange emotion, you let him spit all his creamy load into your mouth, running along your tongue with a surprised cry.

“Swallow,” he orders with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

You do as he tells you, wanting to please him in every way possible, accepting him back into your mouth for a slow, intimate kiss. It is also dominant and sweet, intense.

“I'm Jimin, a werewolf and also one of the masters of the castle,” he explains pushing you against his bare chest, you hug him back as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be there, clasped to him on a bed of dry leaves, "You are my mate, it's no accident that you were chosen ... being a virgin at your age is unusual for humans, but not for us wolves, you waited for me," he emphasizes with fire in his eyes.

“But ... my friends?” you can't help but ask, which makes him chuckle.

“My people have learned to be among humans, they recognized you by scent and led you to me at the right time, they are fine,” he informs you with a caress, “In fact, you should worry about yourself,” he says with a note of reproach.

“H-How?” fear advances again.

“I've waited too many years for your birth, little girl... it's time to repay the wait,” he hums as something hot and hard returns against your belly.

“Jimin, wai-!” too late, the tip of his cock captures your entrance again, this time with more ease and the next thrust has you writhing against him with tears in your eyes, “Oh, shit!”

© 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲𝐙𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 -  𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. || 𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜��𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[teapartyprincess4two]

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ MASTERLIST ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆click each individual name to access series☆

🧸fluff 🦢angst 💋smut 💌headcannons

🎀platonic fluff ✨AU 💃🏻Latina reader 💐sad

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ Sturniolo Triplets ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ Big Sister- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀

summary: Reader is a couple of years older than the triplets, having lived a completely different life to theirs by the age of 25 and is invited onto the Cut The Camera Podcast as a special guest. Reader and triplets retell stories of their childhood and learn more about the readers past.

⭒ Big Sister Pt. 2- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀,🦢

summary: After visiting the triplets in L.A, the reader returns back home and works with her brothers to plan another get together. This time the triplets visit her, taking a trip down to the Lone Star State.

⭒ Big Sister Pt. 3- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀

summary: Your brothers have always been overprotective of you, and they do a good job of showing it while filming with Sam and Colby.

☆N. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Truth or Dare- N. Sturniolo 🎀

summary: Nick and his best friend always find themselves playing truth or dare.

⭒ 4 In The Morning- N. Sturniolo 🦢,🎀

summary: Your best friend Nick comforts you after receiving some unexpected news.

⭒ Talkative- N. Sturniolo 💌,🎀

summary: head cannons of Nick with a yapper bff!

☆M. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Full Set- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Reader is a well renowned nail tech in L.A and due to her growing popularity has become everyone’s go-to nail tech. This leads her to become a workaholic, stunting many of the areas of her life. Three regular customers work towards changing that.

⭒ In Denial- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: It’s hard to admit when you’re in love, especially when the person you love is so different from you. But, as they say, opposites attract.

⭒ Small Town Dreaming- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: There’s not much to do in this small town but fall in love.

⭒ Heartbreak Girl- M. Sturniolo 🦢

summary: Matt’s in love with you, but you’re too in love with someone else to realize it.

⭒ Heartbreak Girl PT.2- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: Matt tries moving on, but you reel him back in every time.

⭒ Manage- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You’re Matt’s secretary, in charge of overseeing everything related to his schedule. Everyday when you come into the office he suppresses the urge to take you then and there. When on a work business trip, he can’t hold back anymore.

⭒ I’ll Play Your Game- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: You’re the Pastor’s daughter, all eyes are always on you. So, why not put on a show?

⭒ Intrusive Thoughts- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You’re forced to sit on Matt’s lap during a long roadtrip and once you arrive at your destination he lets his intrusive thoughts win.

⭒ Intrusive Thoughts PT.2- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: The morning after yours and Matt’s night together, you go for round two.

⭒ Carnal Desires- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You join Matt and his family on a vacation, and get lost together while on a hike. Instead of freaking out, you two take advantage of the sudden alone time.

⭒ Talkative- M. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

⭒ A Cold Sunday- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: You and Matt spend a cold Sunday morning together, snuggling up and keeping warm.

⭒ Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

⭒ Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.

⭒ Parenthood- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of dad!Matt.

⭒ Lipstick- M. Sturniolo 💃🏻,🧸,💋

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

⭒ Happy Birthday- M. Sturniolo 💐,🧸

summary: Over the course of working together for years, Matt picks up on everything and despite not understanding it completely, he comforts you through the hurt.

⭒ Tough- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with a tough girlfriend!

⭒ Weakness- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You fight your inner desires, but ultimately let your weakness consume you.

⭒ Actress- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

⭒ Affectionate- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt being affection with his touch starved girlfriend!

⭒ End of the World- M. Sturniolo ✨,💋,🧸

summary: No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.

⭒ On Stream- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

☆C. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Corner Store- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Chris is your annoying coworker who always manages to make your shifts a little more miserable than necessary, but it turns out he has a misunderstood crush on you.

⭒ Way Over Love- C. Sturniolo 💋

summary: Chris struggles to accept that he likes you as more than a friends.

⭒ Shopaholic- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: No matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop swiping your card.

⭒ Unplanned- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Becoming a teen mom was never in your plans, but you and Chris had to learn to make the best of it.

⭒ Candy- C. Sturniolo💃🏻,🧸

summary: You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite, leading to an internet scandal neither of you anticipated.

⭒ Talkative- C. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Chris with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

⭒ Parenthood- C. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Dad!Chris.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ Johnnie Guilbert ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

(click for series)

⭒ Collab- J. Guilbert 🧸

summary: You and Johnnie pretend to date, faking it for so long that it became real.

⭒ Vampire- J. Guilbert (prologue) ✨.💋,🧸,🦢

summary: You take your relationship with Johnnie, your vampire lover, one step further.

⭒ Vampire- J. Guilbert ✨, 🦢, 🧸

summary: You’re just a princess who fell in love. The only problem is that he’s a vampire and your father has promised your hand in marriage to someone else.

⭒ Bad Day- J. Guilbert 🦢,🧸

summary: Johnnie is the moon and you’re the sun, always bright, bubbly and energetic. Nobody believes that someone as positive as you can ever have a bad day, but when you do Johnnie is ready to comfort you through it.

⭒ Babygirl- J. Guilbert 🧸

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

⭒ Monster- J. Guilbert 💋

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Jake Webber ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

(click for series)

⭒ Messy- J. Webber 💋

summary: Jake is a regular customer at the diner you work at, eating the same meal everyday before returning back to work. One day, when you’re taking his order, you can tell he has much more sinful intentions than a quick meal.

⭒ Call Out My Name- J. Webber 💋

summary: When you film a video with somebody else, Jake’s jealousy takes over.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Carrington‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Norman Reedus‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead

☆ Murphy Macmanus, The Boondock Saints

☆ Diego, Sky

☆ Van, Floating

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Pedro Pascal‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ Javier Peña, Narcos

☆ Joel Miller, The Last of Us

☆ Oberyn, Game of Thrones

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧5SOS‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ C. Hood

☆ A. Irwin

☆ L. Hemmings

☆ M. Clifford

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Lip Gallagher‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ coming soon…

[norrizzandpia]

She Doesn’t Know Who I Am (LN4)

Summary: Lando’s in New York and no one knows who he is. Especially the girl who asks for his number.

Warnings: nothing really, the vaguest inference to alcohol consumption? If that, man, but lmk if i missed any ofc

Lando was always weary of the United States. From the intrusive people to the crazed, horrific politics, he always tried to stay away. However, once a year, or season, he had an obligation to make an appearance in one of the fifty maniacal states. This year, the region in which would be graced with his chaotic presence was that of New York.

Y/n was the typical college student, ruthless and stupid as she went through her days at NYU. Crazy parties and a lack of sleep filled her days as she struggled to get through her second to last year in school. While part of her hated the way New York operated and how unsafe she felt, there was nothing like the beauty of the city. Her whole life had been spent in a small town where she felt trapped and alone, but in the big city, she felt a part of something, almost as if she was finally contributing to something. What she was contributing to, she didn’t know, but, in her mind, that didn’t really matter.

What did matter, however, was her friends dragging her out of bed and forcing her to go out with them whilst on two hours of sleep.

“I can get bagels literally any day. Please,” She put her hands in prayer as she pleaded with her best friend, “Paige, let me go back to bed.”

Paige looked back at her as if she had grown three heads, “No way. You go back to bed now, you’ll sleep all day and then be screwed up tomorrow. Then, you’ll complain about your sleep schedule being off and get mad at me for not waking you up. This is a much easier Y/n to deal with, thank you very much.”

Her response seemed to shut Y/n up as she hung her head low and trotted behind her brunette friend.

—

The walk to the bagel place had been longer than usual as they ran into George, a homeless man who lived at the end of their street and they had come to love. He had been there since the moment they moved in, coming and going as he moved to different places to sleep. After a few years of becoming friends with him, they learned he was a veteran who came back with severe PTSD, and, in turn, had to deal with tumultuous debts for his tries to stop the depressing spiral. While he had successfully gotten over the painful flashbacks, he never came back from the money he owned, the main reason why he ended up on the streets. The girls had found sympathy for the man and whenever he was there, sitting at the end of their block, they gave him fifty dollars each, whether they were struggling with their own financial burdens or not.

His smile had sent them into the rest of their breakfast with happier attitudes as Y/n’s annoyance for being conscious disappeared. However, they returned for the entire duration they spent waiting in the long line in the cramped, stuffy deli. Nonetheless, once she had scarfed down her bagel sandwich and chugged some water, she found life to be much lighter.

—

Lando, on the other hand, had been wandering around Central Park aimlessly with Max and a few other McLaren PR employees. The group had been out shooting content for both the racing company and his own company, Quadrant. Checking out different sights and throwing middle fingers up when they crossed the Trump building, the two boys found themselves having lots of fun in the country they thought so little of.

“Maybe this shit isn’t that bad?” Max chuckled as they stared at the lake that stretched across the park, a piano sounding lightly behind them from a street performer.

Lando nodded, liking the way no one was recognizing him and he could just be, “Yeah, maybe it’s just the politics that dampens the whole thing.”

—

“I’ll seriously never get over how stunning it is in here,” Y/n whispered as she and Paige strolled through a particularly secluded area of Central Park.

“Mhm, me neither.” Paige smiled as the two girls cherished the moment together.

Y/n turned her head to catch the brunette’s brown eyes, “Ever think about what would have happened if we never met?”

Paige pulled a look, “Absolutely not. That sounds like hell.”

“You’re not wrong.” Y/n laughed, “But, seriously, like, how would we even be surviving right n-”

Her abrupt stop to her sentence had Paige turning to look at the girl. With Y/n’s jaw dropped and cheeks ablaze, she followed her best friend’s eyeline, stumbling upon two boys who looked about the same age as them.

“Wow.” Y/n said aloud as she stared, mesmerized, at the man.

“Which one are you looking at?” Paige tried to decipher.

“Brown curls,” Y/n responded immediately, allowing her best friend to finally hone in on the boy of her friend’s choosing.

Paige smiled softly as she pictured Y/n with the boy standing in front of them, a cute couple they would be.

“He’s cute. Go ask for his number!” Paige said excitedly as she pushed Y/n in the direction of the particularly striking young man.

Y/n instantly paled, “What?! No way! Absolutely not!”

“Why?! Y/n, you literally haven’t dated anyone since freshman year. Come on, you’ll never even see him again if he rejects you. Please? For me, at least?” Paige pleaded, giving her best friend a look that she couldn’t turn away.

Huffing, Y/n began walking away, muttering, “The things I do for you.”

—

Y/n first caught Lando’s eye in his peripheral. The quick flash of y/h/c had him turning around to quickly glance at the newfound presence.

He almost lost his footing at the sight of her.

Black leggings and a sweatshirt never looked so good on someone as she approached him. His eyes were followed by Max, the boy laughing at a Lando who was clearly very taken by the girl coming up to them.

“If she asks to take a picture, I’m going to be so devastated,” Lando whispered as she smiled at them, the sight making him want to melt to the ground and beg her to go out with him.

It dawned on him that he didn’t even know her name yet, but that was a passing thought as she came to stop in front of him.

“Hi,” She stared up at him, clearly nervous, “My friend is forcing me to do this, so don’t think I’m doing this willingly.”

Her next few words Lando was already preparing himself for. Either her sentence could send him into a euphoric orbit or she could crush his dreams by being a fan.

She took a deep breath, Lando smiling at her cute demeanor, before she continued, “I just thought you were really cute and thought that, maybe, I could get your number? My name’s Y/n, by the way.”

Max was quick to jump infront of his lovestruck friend, not trusting the girl’s intentions.

“Sorry, he doesn’t give out his number.” He shot out, Y/n grimacing as she took in the embarrassment.

“Is he a celebrity or something?” She tried to recover with jokes, but it just made the faces of the two boys pale more.

The one that she liked, the one with the soft curls, stepped in front of his friend as he shook his head, “No, no. He’s just overprotective,” He sent his friend a threatening gaze, “I’m Lando and I would love to give you my number.”

Y/n was too caught up in the meaning behind Lando’s look to catch the way he was staring down at her, brown eyes big and round as he shot her a toothy grin. Their eyes met, and she flushed under his stare.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, she quickly got out her phone, “Oh, cool! Here you go.”

Lando’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed in his work phone number, not his personal. While he wanted to trust in her cluelessness, he couldn’t be that reckless.

Sliding her phone back to her in a way that allowed for their fingers to brush against each other, Y/n beamed triumphantly, something Lando knew he was going to grow to love.

She stood there for a few moments before nodding her head and beginning her walk back to her friend, “I’ll call you soon. We’ll figure something out.”

Lando nodded eagerly at her, a sign that he liked her just as much as she liked him. When her figure was a dot in the distance, Max turned to him and smacked him on the chest, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!? You can’t just shovel out your number like that! That was way too dangerous, Lando.”

His stern lecture had Lando rolling his eyes, “Max, two things. 1) I gave her my work phone, and 2) I’m willing to bet my seat in McLaren that she has no clue who I am.”

His best friend shifted on his feet as he looked at him, “You really think so?”

Lando nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen fans try to play it cool, and even then, when they outwardly say they know my favorite flavor of ice cream, I can tell they’re freaking out on the inside. Her nerves seemed more to be the type of just asking a random stranger out rather than meeting her idolized driver.”

Max shook his head, “If you insist.”

—

Paige smiled proudly at her best friend as they began making their way out of the park, “So, what was his name anyway?”

Y/n thought hard for a moment before guessing, “Land? Lanyard? Something like that. I can’t remember. I was too caught up in his biceps to comprehend anything he was saying to me. I just hope he isn’t a murderer.”

NOTE: lmk if you guys want me to make a part 2 to this where they go out on a few dates and a month in or so she finds out or he tells her (something roughly like that)

[ellebakers]

☆ Desire | Part one (+18)

Ethan landry x reader.

part II. | part III

Summary : just ethan fucking you against a wall.

Warnings : smut + language + blood. ! SPOILERS FOR SCREAM VI !

it's been a year. a year since richie and amber destroyed your life. a year of waking up every night screaming after having a nightmare. it had to stop.

when your friends asked you to come and live with them in new york a few months ago, you refused. but the more the months passed and the more you felt alone.

that's why a few weeks ago, you called each of them to ask them to put you up until you found a small apartment not far from the university.

"i would like y/n. really, but with tara and quinn, all the rooms are taken." sam told you.

"it doesn't bother me but... you might hear us a lot anika and me, well you know, you might hear us doing certain things." mindy said

there was only one person left. chad.

"no problem gorgeous , I'll arrange the third bedroom for you and you can move in with us whenever you want. ethan is nice, a little shy but nice." your best friend told you.

you were so excited. can't wait to see your friends, but above all can't wait to start a new life far away from woodsboro and especially far away from ghostface.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

it was eight o'clock in the morning, your taxi had just dropped you off in front of chad and ethan's building and you couldn't help but smile. this city is so big that no one is likely to find you. especially not the man in the white mask who haunted your nights.

after taking the elevator to the fourth floor, you took the corridor on your right as your friend had told you and stopped in front of apartment 45.

you raised your arm to knock but before you could move the door slammed open.

" y/n !"

" chad !"

you jumped at the brunette and hugged him, so happy to see your best friend. the boy did not take long to reciprocate the gesture.

"you still smell so good." he exclaimed.

you laughed "you’re still so weird."

he pulled back and lightly pinched your nose "i missed you, little head."

you smiled at him "I missed you too, big head."

he pushed aside to let you into the apartment.

once inside, he took your coat and your bag "is that all you took?" he asked you.

"yeah, i just took some change and some stuff. my parents will send me the rest."

he nodded and put your things on a small bench in the hallway.

"come, let me introduce you to ethan."

you followed him to the kitchen where a boy with curly hair was sitting at the counter. "ethan" hearing his name, the boy looked up. you can't help but notice how cute he was. "this is my best friend y/n." the boy's gaze fell on you for a moment then he quickly looked away. "y/n, this is ethan."

you waved your hand "hi"

"hi" he muttered, then he got up, got his things and walked towards what you assumed was his room.

chad turned to you pursing his lips "he's shy."

you nodded slightly, still confused by what had just happened. as a first meeting you had known better. did you scare him ? maybe he didn't like you. but you had only just met him, it was stupid.

your best friend cleared his throat, bringing you back to reality. " i forgot to tell you, but we're going to sam’s place in twenty minutes."

you widened your eyes "wait what? but i've only just arrived. and i won't be ready in twenty minutes."

he shook his head, raising his shoulders "but yes ! I installed your room, you just have to change, plus the girls don't know you're in town."

you crossed your arms "oh, so for once in your life you managed to keep your mouth shut."

a mischievous smile appeared on chad's face "oh, girls i had dated prefer when my mouth is open, especially between their-"

you cover your ears "shut up, I'm going to change."

he laughed and tickled you as you walked past him. "chad stop"

"ok"

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

after putting on jeans, a tank top and a leather jacket, you tore your hair down and put on some make-up, in ten minutes you were ready.

it was not the case of chad…

you growled when you saw that your friend wasn't ready and was running around looking for a t-shirt.

"seriously chad, put something else on your back it's okay."

"nah nah and nah, it's the t-shirt tara gave me. and besides, don't pretend that you don't like seeing me shirtless."

you rolled your eyes, then what he just said hit you.

"wait. you have a crush on tara!"

chad froze and turned to you "what? nah, it's just that...she gave it to me and...it would be rude not to put it on."'

"of course, I believe you." you smirked and chad gives you the middle finger.

ethan came towards you but moved very far away from you.

okay nice… you thought.

chad yelled which startled you. seeing your reaction he apologized "sorry kitten, I just found my top. come on, let's go, I have to stop and buy some beer, Tara only likes corona."

you smiled shaking your head.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

while chad was in the store, you were in the car with ethan, who still hadn't spoken to you.

a ding caught your attention. a new notification appeared on your phone. it was that damn dating app that mindy told you to install. a certain brian came to send you a picture. you opened it. and the photo of a dick appeared. you growled and blocked him. that was the downside with this kind of app, the guys you met on it only wanted one thing. sex. after turning off your phone, you leaned your head against the glass and sighed.

"you shouldn't be on this kind of app." for the first time that evening, ethan had just spoken to you.

you didn't know what to say, but it could be a good way to strike up a conversation with him. after all, you were going to live with him for a while so you might as well be on good terms.

"yes, I know. i thought i would meet good people, but i only come across perverts."

"you're really pretty. that's what they come for. maybe you should try talking to guys who are less handsome or popular, but who really care about you."

he finds you pretty. the cutest guy you've ever seen thinks you're pretty. you must have dreamed. and his voice. lord, you could kneel before him and do anything he asked just by hearing his voice.

"yeah well. every guy, popular or not, are interested in me until they see my scars and learn who i am. thanks to richie and amber."

you expected ethan to answer you but he kills himself. at the same time, chad got into the car and drove to sam's place.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"chad! you're late. again." grumbled mindy.

the three girls were busy in the kitchen so they didn't see you come in behind chad.

"i have a body of god, it takes time to take care of it before going out."

"of course." his twin replied.

" i feel like a wave of mockery coming from you mindy. isn't it y/n?"

you approached and saw the three girls turn sharply, shock evident on their faces.

"holy shit." exclaimed sam

tara threw herself into your arms and mindy put down the bottle she was holding so as not to drop it, still in shock. they haven't seen you in months except for facetime.

"it's good to see you." murmured the little brunette who hugged you against her without wanting to let you go.

"it's good to see you too tara."

"okay okay, let go. it's my turn now." mindy exclaimed as she pulled tara away from you.

she cupped your face in her hands "fuck. is it good to be able to touch you." chad opened his mouth to comment but mindy cut him off rolling her eyes "not sexually dumbass."

you laughed and hugged your friend.

after a while she withdrew to make way for sam.

"i missed you." the eldest carpenter told you.

"i missed you too sam."

after a while, two other girls arrived introducing themselves as anika and quinn, after greeting them, you started to eat. it's been a year since you felt so good, surrounded by those you love and safe. your friends had all changed a lot over the past year, you were so proud of them. but something bothered you, like a bad feeling. you shook your head slightly to erase the feeling. after all, you were safe, nothing could happen.

you felt eyes on you. you turned and met ethan's eyes. you smiled at him but he turned his head towards quinn, they exchanged a strange look.

maybe they are a couple.

but they don't act like one. you looked away and focused on what mindy and anika were saying. after a few hours, your eyes began to close. chad was the first to notice.

"do you want us to go home?"

"i'll go home. but you, stay here. i'll walk."

"nah, we're going home too."

you knew he wanted to stay to spend time with tara. but you also knew that he wouldn't let you go home alone. "chad. stay here, i'll be fine, i promise."

as he was going to answer you, ethan cut him off. "i will accompany her."

chad was surprised but accepted. you got up, said goodbye to everyone and left with the brunette.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

the walk to the apartment was quiet and long. why did ethan want to come with you if it was to be cold with you. after a while, you found the courage to ask him the question you were dying to ask.

"did I do something to you ?"

you keep walking, and ethan didn't bother to turn to you when answering. "no, why ?"

"since I arrived you have spoken to me very little. and I have the impression that you don't like me too much."

"i don't know you, that's all. i'm always suspicious of people i don't know."

you didn't realize it, but for a few minutes, you had been following ethan down a dark, deserted alley.

"ok if you say so."

ethan froze, which made you stop. he turned his head in all directions.

"ethan what’s going on ?" you asked him.

he didn't answer you, you were going to ask him the question again, but he threw himself on you and pinned you against the wall behind you, kissing you.

it didn't take you long to respond by sliding your arms around his neck and kissing him. usually, you'll have pushed the boy away and probably slapped him. but ethan, you were really attracted to him. and we're not going to lie to each other, it's been a few months since you've had sex, so you weren't going to say no to a bang. after a while you pull away to catch your breath, he turned his lips to your neck, biting, licking and sucking on it in order to leave some marks. you moan when he finds your sensitive spot.

"ethan, someone might see us."

"i don't give a fuck."

you were ashamed to admit it, but hearing him talk like that made you wet.

"then fuck me."

he smiled against your neck "it was planned."

he pushed himself away from you, sliding his hands down your body until he was waiting for your jeans. he unbuttoned it and slid it off you, leaving your legs exposed in an alley. he knelt in front of you, knowing what he was going to do, you held your breath. he took the strip of your panties between his fingers and tore it. you were about to complain but ethan buried his head between your legs and took your pussy in his mouth. you moaned loudly and ran your hand through his hair.

"fuck, ethan."

you had a lot of guys who had went down on you. but ethan, fuck, it's like he's been doing this his whole life. between his tongue and his lips, you thought you were dying of pleasure. the more he penetrated you with his tongue, the louder you moaned. after a few minutes, the pleasure was too intense and you cum against his lips. he stood up as you caught your breath. he licked his lips "you taste so good."

"fuck me."

he smiled at you and lowered his pants to his knees, his boxers were the second to be lowered.

his dick was big and hard you didn't think it was going to fit but ethan grabbed your jaw between his fingers and made you look at him "it'll be fine." you nodded and he kissed you again. ethan took your left leg and put it against his hip. he spat into his hand and pumped himself a little before putting his cock towards your entrance. and in one movement he penetrated you, which made you moan and close your eyes. he didn't move, he took your other leg and lifted it, which allowed him to sink even more inside you. "fuck you’re so tight." he started his movements, slowly, pressing you more against the wall. you were still sensitive, which made you cry with pleasure at each thrust. "ethan, i'm close." he put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly. his dominating side excited you even more and made you moan pornographic. the more he squeezed and the more you moaned, after a while you felt your second orgasm coming. "ethan, I'll-" you didn't have time to finish your sentence. an orgasm washed over you, making you moan and roll your eyes. ethan kept moving, and you knew he was going to cum, you nibbled on his earlobe "go ahead, cum inside me." that's all he needed to end up in you. he leaned his forehead against yours and caught his breath.

with one hand he pulled up his boxers and his pants. he lowered you to the ground, but his other hand still remained around your neck. "ethan you can take your hand off."

suddenly he looked up and smiled at you, and his hand squeezed more and more around your neck, making you gasp for air. "ethan" you were trying to beg him to stop but he kept going. he passed his other hand behind his back, you hadn't seen what he had taken, but you felt it. it was a knife.

a knife he stuck in your stomach, you tried to scream, but ethan stopped you. he raised the knife higher and higher. you felt yourself dying little by little. he dropped you to the ground and watched you bleed out. after your last breath. he took his phone and called chad.

"chad, oh my god that's horrible. we got attacked by ghostface. y/n, she's dead."

[thedoctorisgroovy]

Schooled

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

» Word count: 998

» Warnings: use of y/n, S3-5 Spencer, reader has just started at the BAU, mention of bullying, fluff, establishing relationship, awkward Spencer, use of the word sh**ty, mention of gunshot wound, gn reader, they/them pronouns, slightly non canon character behaviours

» A/N: so Im 27 and i've never written a fic before! I had a dream the other night that I was gonna turn into a one shot but realised I needed way more backstory to get to the dream scene so this is gonna be multiple chapters! Reader should be GN, if not I apologise! Also I have no clue about how law enforcement works so all references to the FBI, statistics etc are all made up. Any feedback is welcome but please try to be kind/constructive!

CHAPTER 1:

Your job with the BAU took you all over the country; mountain ranges, the desert, small towns, big cities, and if you were lucky, even the beach, which may sound slightly psychopathic considering you solve homicides and kidnappings for a living. You never thought it would take you back to your old high school however. The FBI had been called in to your home-town to help solve a string of disappearances/kidnappings that seemed to be connected to the school. It started off as one or two kids not showing up for class, but had now escalated into 6 official missing students. Local police were struggling to determine whether the unsub was a teacher or student, and in a population of 35,000, they called in the BAU to put together a more accurate profile of who they were looking for.

After moving away at the ripe age of 18 to get your bachelor’s degree at a university far away, you had no intention of ever returning to your shitty town. School wasn’t too hard, you got good grades and had a few solid friends but still fell victim to the small town bullying and mentality that you’ve spent the last few years getting over in therapy. Attending the academy straight after graduating helped to keep you busy and away too - much to your mother’s protests - but you knew your goal in life. Joining the FBI and then eventually the BAU was your best shot at never returning, and while your one track mind kept you focused, it unfortunately lead to this case.

On the plus side, it also lead you to the best group of friends - who were your family, lets face it - and boyfriend you could ask for. Dr Spencer Reid was the first member of the team that you were introduced to by Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner on your first day. As he’s your age and at the time, a little awkward, Hotch thought you’d be least intimidated joining the team by meeting him first.

Hotch told you that he was a genius and had a tendency to ramble trivia at people, which intrigued you. You’d never met a 26 year old genius before. As he lead you down the ramp and across the bullpen, you noted 2 women; a blonde girl with quirky clothes and a big grin and a brunette with big eyes and a bright red tank top. You felt their eyes follow you and SSA Hotchner across the room as he lead you to wonder boy’s desk. He had his head buried in a file; legs bunched together on his seat,  a pen tapping against his lips absentmindedly, his face obscured slightly by the hair falling across his cheeks and forehead.  You reached his desk and Hotch cleared his throat slightly. When he didn’t react, Hotch finally spoke up.

“Dr Reid, this is Special Agent Y/F/N, Y/L/N.” Hotch said in a firm but polite tone. Spencer flinched when Hotch spoke, his voice snapping him out of whatever work induced rabbit hole his brain was stuck in. In an instant, his legs were now back onto the floor, whipped his head up and pushed his glasses up onto his head. Spencer leaned over his desk and extended his hand, to shake yours. He gave you a big smile which you remember looked genuine and sweet at the time.

“Hi, I’m Dr Reid… Or Spencer, just call me Spencer, Dr sounds prententious. I mostly just say it to sound smart but I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” As he started rambling, you couldn’t help but stare. Now that his face wasn’t covered by his hair, you noticed how pretty he was. His light, soft brown eyes scanned your face while you accidentally stared into them. There was a kindness there that you felt drawn to and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at his strong jawline.

“Agent Y/L/N?” Spencer questioned softly, his smile dropping to a face of mild concern. You looked down and realised his hand was still extended waiting for you to shake it. Mortified that you’d been staring at this poor man’s face, you blushed and quickly stuck your hand out to reciprocate the greeting.

“Nice to meet you!” You tried to muster in your cheeriest polite voice, hiding your embarrassment as best you could. His smile grew again, cheeks turning ever so slightly salmon colored.

“Reid, I’m leaving Agent Y/L/N in your care. Can you please introduce them to the rest of the team before the debrief? JJ’s waiting for us in the briefing room but I’ve told her to wait 5 minutes for introductions.” With that, Hotch left and you stood semi awkwardly at Reid’s desk unsure whether to initiate conversation or wait for him to take the lead. Thankfully he did.

“As the idiom says ‘there’s no time like the present’” Spencer quipped, standing up and placing his case file onto the desk. He gestured to follow him as he lead you to the two women who you could tell were gossiping quite frankly.

Since then, you’d been inseparable. The whole team noticed how fond you were of each other; 6 months of choosing to pair up on missions, sleeping next to each other on the jet, filing paperwork until the early hours alone in the office. Eventually, Garcia - your loveable bubbly tech analyst best friend - forced you to go on an official date - much to your fake protestations - and that night, you decided to make it official. The “I love you’s” came after a particularly dangerous case where you got shot in the field. The good doctor refused to leave your side from the minute you were injured until you got into the hospital bed. After surgery to remove the bullet, he laid on your recovery bed with you and whispered that he loved you and you whispered back before you both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2

taglist: @gghostwriter @inlovewithelliewilliams @the-quackson-brothers @lonelymuffin @lobstertalk @primrosesposts

[spooky-bunnys]

Title: The (Last Name)'s

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x M.R x Sam

Warnings: None

Everything was normal in Pelican Town. Well, until the new farmer moved into Pelican Town. Everyone was confused on why someone from the big city would move to their small town. Especially considering someone people wanted to leave the small town to the big city! They just didn't understand why.

Until they met the new farmer that is. According to Robin, the new farmer was Old (Last Name)'s grandson who had gotten tired of the big city, and wanted to finally wanted to settle down away from the nose and people. Everyone had many expectations and thoughts on how the new farmer would be. Although they were pleasantly surprised when they finally met him.

It didn't take long for (Name) to quickly become the biggest bachelor of Pelican Town. Everyone who was single wanted to be with (Name). They loved how sweet, generous, kind-hearted, and over all his bubbly and helpful personality quickly mad him the town favorite. (Name) was always willing to lend a helping hand to whoever needed it.

He even helped remodel the Pelican Town Community Center. Which ultimately sent the Joja Company packing. Saving Pierre's business from Bankruptcy. He also helped Willy fix his boat, that originally belonged to Willy's grandfather. So you can imagine how happy he was when it was fixed.

Since the boat was fixed the people of Pelican Town was even able to start going to Ginger Island. Where (Name) found the sweetest little boy. That he later adopted with the permission and help of Mayor Louis. When Leo was comfortable enough he moved into (Name)'s farm house.

Although he had a tree house beside Linus's tent in the mountains. Leo also visited the Island some days. Luckily due to all the hard work, (Name) also has a farm and house on the Island. So they went to the Island quite often together.

Something nobody expected was for Sebastian and Sam to end up with the new farmer. It came to a huge surprise to the town people when the trouple got together. They had seen (Name) was close to them, but to think they were all three technically dating? It was something else honestly. They didn't mean anything bad about it.

They'd just haven't had something like this happen in Pelican Town before. But everyone saw how happy they were whenever they were all together. Especially (Name)'s best friend Abigail. She was even their best woman at their wedding. Which was honestly hard to do since you usually can't marry more then one person.

But Mayor Louis made it happen. (Name) had become something of a grandchild to Mayor Louis. Seeing how much happier Pelican Town has become thanks to (Name). He did all he could to help the boys dream to come true. The wedding was small but beautiful.

In a matter of month the new (Last Name) family had three parents and three children. Leo was extremely excited to be an older brother to a pair of twins that the trio adopted. They'd found the twins after one of the bands concerts in the city. There was a boy with blonde hair and (eye color) eyes, and a girl with (hair color) hair and brown eyes.

They were greatly surprised on how they looked like the trouple. It warmed their hearts. They thank Yoda everyday for the life they're living. Because they wouldn't change any of it for the world. Although they maybe wish Leo would stop teaching the twins how to speak bird. Becausenit was cute at first, but who wants to hear that being screamed into your ear at six in the morning.

Not them at least.

[thesimquarter]

Quick appreciation of the slightly cursed renders in the GBA manuals for the sims: bustin’ out & the urbz.

Anyways, did you know? The handbooks for the first two handheld Sims games has some unique descriptions for many of the characters!

These are the ‘Meet Your Neighbors’ pages of of The Sims: Bustin’ Out (GBA) and The Urbz: Sims in the City (GBA & DS) in the official game manuals.

[TRANSCRIPTION UNDER CUT]

[page 1]

MEET YOUR SIMVALLEY NEIGHBORS For a small town, SimValley has a lot of colorful characters for your Sim to get acquainted with. This section gives you a peak at just a few of the people who populate your Sim’s new home town.

Dusty Hogg - This bad boy biker plays by his own rules. While rumors around town state that he still lives with his parents, we don’t recommend you tease him about that—or anything else.

Mad Willy Hurtzya - Mad Willy knows a thing or two about going 10 rounds. Quick to solve a problem by applying his fists, he's definitely more of a fighter than a lover

Eddie Renalin - Although some Sims say that Eddie used to be a skinny twerp of a kid, those allegations have never been proven. Though short on smarts, these days Eddie's the biggest and strongest guy around town.

Bucki Brock - Bucki is a straight shooter who was born and raised right in the Valley. This is one girl who knows a cow from a steer and that's no bull.

Daddy Bigbucks - Daddy is sure enough a big spender. Your Sim will want to keep on his god side a to ensure they're near the drainpipe should any of that wealth trickle down.

Det. Dan D. Mann - Detective Dan D. Mann is the police presence in SimValley. He prides himself on keeping the SimValley streets safe and boasts that jaywalking is down 25% since he took on the beat.

[page 2]

O. Phil McClean - While O. Phil McClean isn’t the friendliest fisherman your Sim will ever meet, he does know the best spots for reeling in the biggest fish. If your Sim can get to know this crusty angler, he might tell them just what he’s using for bait.

Ephram Earl - This otherworldly neighbor is very familiar with things that go bump in the night. A bit on the loony side, this ghost can still give your Sim some of the worldly belongings that he no longer needs.

Misty Waters - Misty is responsible for keeping swimming Sims from expiring in the watery deep. She prides herself on staying fit, all the better to save lives and look good in her work uniform... a swimsuit.

Chet R. Chase - No hoity-toity, fancy French cooking for Chet R. Chase. A SimValley native, Chet serves up a tasty plate o' vittles that’s pure down home cooking.

Olde Salty - Olde Salty is the SimValley fish monger. He's a grumpy old sailor so ye'd best be wary of what ye say!

Nicki Knack - This SimValley old timer has made it her business to put her nose in everyone else's. A devoted collector of this and that, Nicki really might have a use for some of the items your Sim can't use.

Uncle Hayseed - Thanks to Uncle Hayseed’s generous invitation to come and spend the summer in SimValley, your Sim has a chance to enjoy the slower-paced life of country livin’ at its finest.

[Page 3]

Giuseppi Mezzoalto - Some Sims are suspicious of this Giuseppi and think that he sometimes uses his van for moving people's things—whether he hired or not, But when it's time to relocate, his big, roomy van does the trick for toting a Sim’s possessions across town.

In addition to this cast of characters, there are many more Sims around town who can become friends, roommates, or more!

[Page 4]

Darius - King of the Streeties, Darius has moves on the court and is a straight shooter when it comes to darts. He can usually be found at his hangout, Club Xizzle. Remember to stay away from his hotdogs.

Kris Thistle - Kris Thistle is King Tower's janitor. Outgoing, with a touch of attitude, she's more at home in her darkroom than behind a mop.

Daddy Bigbucks - Sim Valley's big spender moved to Miniopolis with plans to buy the entire city! Keep your eyes and ears open—this cat is definitely up to something.

Polly Nomial - Queen of the Nerdies and Associate Professor at the university, Polly is one smart cookie. If you're lucky, she might show you her vintage dictionary collection.

Roxanna Moxie - Flamboyant and fearless, Roxanna Moxie is the Carnival ringmaster and Queen of the Artsies. Fond of the bizarre, she counts the founding of the carnival's first freak show among her greatest achievements.

Luthor L Bigbucks III - Luthor is son and heir to Daddy Bigbucks' financial empire. A jetsetter and King of the Richies, Luthor walks the walk, but didn’t quite inherit his father’s evil streak.

[Page 5]

MEET YOUR NEIGHBORS The city is full of people for your Urb to get acquainted with. This section gives you the rundown on some of the people you'll meet.

Darius - King of the Streeties, Darius can usually be found at his hangout, Club Xizzle. Remember to stay away from his corndogs.

Kris Thistle - The King Tower janitor is outgoing, with a touch of attitude. Kris is more at home in her darkroom than behind a mop.

Daddy Bigbucks - Sim Valley's big spender moved to Miniopolis with plans to buy the entire city! Keep your eyes and ears open—he's definitely up to something.

Futo Maki - This construction worker oversaw the renovation of Splicer Island before it was shut down. Maybe you can put him back to work.

Sharona Faster - Sharona had plans to operate a water taxi to Splicer Island, until Daddy Bigbucks squashed her dream.

Jack I. Deal - This big man used to work for Daddy Bigbucks himself, but now he's got different ideas on how to earn his living.

Busta Cruz - This guy is a born entertainer. He keeps the Urbz amusement levels up.

Downloads to the full manuals can be found in this archive.

[chigirisprincess]

Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth. 

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population. 

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island. 

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be. 

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now. 

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion. 

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity. 

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can. 

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed. 

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on. 

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern. 

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing. 

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again. 

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.” 

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days. 

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal. 

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress. 

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart. 

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it. 

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar. 

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck. 

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs,  “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours. 

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…” 

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,�� you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly. 

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I? 

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm. 

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting. 

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is  sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity. 

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his. 

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath. 

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you. 

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next. 

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets. 

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life. 

You deserved some ounce of happiness too. 

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[mothiir]

words rarely spoken

for @kit-williams, who requested perturabo and a praise kink. my first time writing the Big Iron Boy so apologies if his characterisation is a little all over.

—

cw: power imbalance.

—

The best thing that the leaders of your world ever did was die, and die swiftly, so cooler heads — those with a more accurate assessment of your ability to defend against the might of the Imperium — prevailed, and negotiated a surrender. Surrender is a delicate way of putting it — wholehearted supplication is more accurate. Levies and taxes and all sorts of sacrifices made; but the intricacies of the deal do not trouble you. The important thing is that you are still alive; that your cities may be rubble, but the land is not scoured and irradiated waste.

You were in a refugee camp, bird-boned and hollow-eyed from living off thin soup and stale bread, when the Iron Warriors swept through looking for serfs. You were picked because — though skinny — you were still able to stand on two feet, and were not actively dying of dysentery.

You are at the unveiling of the new barracks by pure chance. Your status is lowly enough that you are, in essence, the serf of a serf; the assistant to a housekeeper for the recruits. She attends, since she will be overseeing the running of the mighty kitchens, designed to deal with the appetites of baby Astartes; you attend, because she needs someone to take notes, since she’s almost completely deaf after years of dealing with neophytes who are unable to control the volume of their eardrum-busting voices, and she does not want to admit it.

A chill sea breeze whisks your hair back, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant aroma of lasgun fire, still lingering even months after the capitulation of the system. The barracks is built along the coast, great buttresses of durasteel effortlessly blending in with the native black stone cliff, while the pinnacle of the building stretches towards the slate grey sky in a series of brutalist blocks that — despite their overtly industrial inspiration — seem perfectly at home in the bleak landscape. Already salt-stained and circled by dozens of gulls, howling to each other over the scream of the wind, you would think that the barracks had stood here since time immemorial.

You, and the other household serfs, are honoured with a place on the levitating platform that sweeps along the barracks’ length; you stick to the back corners, not held in place by chain or protocol, but by simple human awe — for at the head of the platform, atop a dais of raw iron, stands Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors; builder, destroyer, champion. His face is as hard and merciless as the ocean, and even his sons — terrifying creatures that they are — treat him with deference. You’ve heard rumours of decimation, of brutality your sheltered life can’t begin to fathom. So you avert your eyes. So you make yourself small. So you, like the other serfs, attempt to be as grey and faceless and featureless as the cogs in a machine.

The platform is silent, save the occasional hushed conversation between a nervous Iron Warrior and his Primarch. You cannot hear much, but occasionally make out a word or two —

“…not fit for purpose…apologies father —“

— it sounds like he is grovelling. You feel a strange stirring of pity and find yourself wondering: what is the point of all this? Peturabo built the barracks; his sons were overseen by him personally. Surely there is nothing here he has not already seen. And he cannot be trying to impress his serfs, or the native populace. Then why have this barebones ceremony at all?

You glance around the platform, as discreetly as possible. It is huge, larger than a town block (back when your towns still stood). Almost like it was designed to accommodate more people. Almost like he was expecting more guests.

You shake yourself out of your fantasy — you’re not one of those who fervently believe that the soldiers from the stars can read minds, but you don’t want to risk it. To distract yourself, you look back at the building — just as a bolt of sunlight struggles through the cloud, illuminating the barracks in streams of gold. All at once, it is transformed, sharp angles glowing, cavernous pockets of shadow providing dramatic definition against the light. Despite yourself, you whisper: “It’s so beautiful.”

You are not accustomed to how swift Astartes can be, nor how silent — and so when a low voice rumbles behind you, you almost jump out of your skin, heart leaping straight into your gullet.

“What did you say?”

The serfs around you peel away with astonishing speed; there is no solidarity here, especially not when a Primarch looms behind you like a threat. You daren’t turn around, through his shadow obscures the sun, and you smell him — hot iron, and burning plastisteel — and feel the heat of his armour radiating against the chill. You are no psyker, but you feel the weight of his presence heavy on your shoulders, and the prey-animal fear it ignite in you almost has you bolting to the sea, seeking the solace of the waves, and the drowning dark.

However. You master that feeling. You have lived this far; you will continue to live, so help you — not god. No gods here, not anymore. So help you you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, then think that this is somewhat lacking. “My lord,” you add.

No one shoots you, so you assume this is the correct form of address.

“Beautiful? No. It serves the purpose it is intended for.”

You really should let it slide. You should. But your lips, numb with cold and salt-stained, are still moving. “It can do both — it can be both beautiful and functional. The way the buttresses slope to the waves, along the cliffs like veins or tree-roots; the way the buildings are angled just-so, looking like — “

You risk a sidelong glance; not at his face — you are not so bold — but at his shoulder-pauldrons.

“—looking like your armour, sire — uh, lord — it all has this rhythm to it, this poetry, this uh — “ Shit, shit, shit, you’re going to die, you’re going to die. “—pattern.”

Silence. Full, poignant silence. The serfs have now completely abandoned this corner of the platform; out of the corner of your eye you see that both they and the Astartes have taken up position at the far end, all making a show of looking literally anywhere but at the Primarch. Some are more convincing than others.

“—go on.”

You take in a deep breath, and continue. The windows, visible at a distant, small enough to insulate, large enough for natural light. The grey of the rock stained black by the waves. The craftsmanship of it all. Your voice trembles a little — after all, Peturabo still looms behind you — but the passion in your words is genuine. It really is beautiful, and more beautiful when you consider the context of it all: the coastline had been benighted by warfare and is now transfigured into something useful, something that will stand the test of time; a monument to endurance.

—

You have been talking for ten minutes and thirty two seconds and Perturabo has been hard for eight of those minutes — approaching nine. Now nine. Damn it all to the Warp, his body is a vile useless animal, and he despises its frailty, and you are a lowly mortal, your opinion is worthless, you are worthless —

“The craftsman really understood the native landscape —“

By the Emperor’s right ballsack, he’s going to go mad. He rests one hand on your shoulder — you oof at the sudden weight, peering up at him properly for the first time, all huge eyes and spit-wet mouth.

”Come with me,” he says, and strides off — you jog to keep up, managing three swift strides for each one of his, asking no questions, reeking of fear. And yet you were totally honest with him — he could sense it. Every word of your praise had been the unvarnished truth, even if your voice shook.

You genuinely thought the barracks beautiful, his craftsmanship without peer. Which - -yes, obviously, of course you would. It is. And yet — to hear it stated so plainly —

He does not say a word, nor look at you, the entire journey back to his quarters aboard ship. You trot in his wake the entire way, and when the doors roll open to his spartan accommodation you stare around: blank grey walls, a Primarch-sized bed, topped with a mattress roughly the width of a human thumb. A singular grey pillow.

“Um,” you say, and Peturabo ignores you, tapping at a panel on the wall to lock the door. His erection is acutely uncomfortable, sandwiched against his armour, and even thoughts of the least appealing things he can muster — Dorn naked, Dorn naked, that one time he saw Horus’s hairy arse in the shower — it isn’t going away. His thoughts, usually so regimented, keep turning back to the earnest praise you delivered in that lilting mortal voice, powered by lungs smaller than his palm.

“Talk,” he orders, striding towards you; you shrink back, and he huffs impatience. “I am not going to harm you; you are not in trouble. Talk. Repeat what you said about the barracks.”

”S-sure,” you say, and begin the tale again; it isn’t a duplicate of what you said before, but an escalation, going into more detail, more observations about the quality of the stone masonry. His cock throbs, and he fiddles with his armour, managing — with some indignity — to remove the crotch plate, and thumb aside the skin suit, revealing his hard, leaking member. It is roughly level with your chin, even as you stand, and the sight of your pink tongue gives him some ideas — but then you wouldn’t be able to talk. And he so wants you to talk.

“Touch me,” he says, and you reach up to obey, soft hands against his overheated flesh. Soft hands that have never known truly hard work, fingers that won’t span his girth, and a voice that continues praising him.

“And uh — making destruction into something functional, rebuilding, that’s — that’s a talent that —“

You’re starting to stammer as you stroke him, using both hands to do so. He feels his orgasm start to build — it has been far, far too long — and he moans throatily, his eyes half-closing with pleasure.

“Keep going.”

You are breathless with effort now; he’s heavy in your palms, and he’s crowding closer, leaving you with no choice but to angle his cock directly to your face.

“—and you’re good, you’re so good, you’re the craftsman who makes crisis into construction into cities —“

With a hard grunt, Peturabo cums — and keeps cumming. He paints your face and throat white, and knocks your hands away so he can milk the last little bit out himself, directly onto your chest, soaking the fabric.

“There,” he pants, self-satisfied and rose-cheeks. “Good girl.”

You look astonished more than anything else, reaching up to wipe your face. Once again, he catches your hands.

“Leave it on. I’m not done yet.”

[momotonescreaming]

Stardew Valley inspired AU where Steve works some boring corporate job for his father and he's absolutely miserable. His father has high expectations for him that he can't ever seem to meet, his mother just fawns under her husband's harsh gaze, and no one at work likes him because he's the bosses son. Doesn't seem to matter that his father doesn't like him much either.

So when he gets a call from their family lawyer, saying his granddads old farm has left legal hell and is officially his, he's very tempted to drop everything and leave. Get out of the city, escape his family, get a fresh start. The only thing holding him back, is his best friend Robin who also lives in the city. She tells him off for letting her hold him back. She'll miss him horribly, but she knows that he wasn't happy working for his father. He just has to promise to send her postcards and letters and to call her as often as he can. As soon as he’s settled she is going to visit and that is a fact Steve, you better get used to it.

Steve puts in his notice at work, cancels the lease on his apartment, and starts packing his things. He buys a trailer to hitch to the back of his Beamer to pack up all his stuff, has a very tearful goodbye with Robin, and drives to the small town of Hawkins.

He spends most of his time that first month getting everything sorted. Gives the house a deep clean, moves in what he bought of his stuff, and figures out what he still needs to buy. Does a check of everything he needs to repair or replace on the farm. Spends a lot of time clearing rocks and overgrown bushes and weeds and trees off of his land. Reads some books and takes some online classes on farming. Is determined to actually make this work.

Eddie has lived in Hawkins since he moved in with his uncle. Always had dreams of moving to the big city and making it big with his band. But for now he's still in Hawkins, working at Thatcher Tire, living with his uncle, trying not to get sucked into small town gossip. It's hard not to though, not when one of the local high school kids starts a rumour you're a cult leader because you run a DnD club and he thinks his girlfriend is cheating on him. It fucking sucked, but Eddie managed to graduate from high school the third time round, and the rumour mill slowly moved on.

Now, all everyone can talk about is the city boy who moved into the old abandoned farm just down the way. Apparently he's very handsome, very single, and looks like he hasn't worked a day in his life. And sue Eddie, he's fucking curious.

The first time Eddie meets the elusive city boy is at the post office, some months after he moved to town. The guy asks for the time, and politely introduces himself as Steve, the guy who's doing up the old farm. And the Hawkins gossips are right - the guy is handsome as hell. Carefully styled swooping brown hair that looks impossibly soft. Tanned skin dotted with moles. A tidy polo shirt that should look dorky but instead just really suits the guy. Fitting tight across his chest and straining against his biceps. For a supposed city boy, the man is unreasonably ripped. Maybe he is meant to be a farmer.

And then once they meet, it’s like the universe is playing a trick on Eddie because he can’t stop bumping into the guy. He sees him jogging through the city and Steve waves at him with a wiggle of his fingers. He sees him hiking through the woods with his new farm dog in training trotting after him happily. They’re in the supermarket at the same time, and they make small talk about food and Steve jokes that his stove is so old it’s like he has to teach himself how to cook all over again. Eddie goes to Merrill’s farm to drop something off for Wayne, and Steve is there, sleeves rolled up, glistening and sweaty, doing odd jobs on for a little extra cash.

A navy blue truck rolls into Thatcher’s one day, sturdy, big, with a small dent in the side. Good kit. And lo and behold Steve steps out. Clad in his usual blue jeans and a tight polo, twirling his keys around his fingers. He asks if there’s room for them to take a look at it, give it a service, or does he need to book in later? And Eddie says he’s free. There’s a lot of other things he needs to do, cars out the back to check over, but Steve is here. And so Eddie take a look at the truck so he has an excuse to talk to Steve. Asks him questions if there’s anything wrong with it, does he need to check anything in particular? And they chat, and Eddie brings up the beemer. Mentions it off handedly — did Steve swap it out for a truck? Something more farm appropriate?

And Steve just tilts his head like a confused puppy. Eddie know’s he has a beemer? And before he can think about it too much, Eddie says of course he does — it’s not every day that a handsome city boy rolls into a town like this in a fancy car like that. And Steve raises an eyebrow. Handsome? he asks. Eddie curses at himself under his breath. He could have pulled the mechanic card, said he keeps an eye out at all the cars in Hawkins. But of course he lost his tongue in front of the pretty stranger. But Steve just says he’ll take the compliment and smiles at Eddie in a way he hadn’t before.

Before it was small town polite — making conversation at the gas station or a smile of acknowledgement. But this is different. This smile is more. And so Eddie blushes, and rolls himself under the truck to hide his blushing cheeks. He thinks he hears Steve chuckle, bit graciously follows when Eddie steers the conversation away from the face he finds him pretty and onto a safer topic — farm.

And Steve sounds so genuinely excited when he talks about it. He finds the physical work really satisfying, he’s looking forward to getting to the point where he can actually plant crops. Wants to get a chicken coop, see how that goes, before he moves onto livestock. He likes the early mornings on the farm where he can watch the sun rise over the fields. He feels himself there on the farm.

Eddie jokes that the early mornings sound awful, he’s a night owl through and through — but the sunrise sounds nice. Steve laughs and says that's fair, he had to start waking up early in high school for swim team practice and now it’s ingrained into him. Handy for the farm now, which is a plus. Eddie admits that he’s been to the farm before — feels weird not too now — that he hopped the fence when he was teen and wandered the fields and the woods, having a smoke and a poke around. Steve is cool about it. The place was abandoned, and he would have done the same when he was young. He’s not as uptight as he looks — he had some semi-wild teen years of his own.

They talk, Eddie looks at the car, and then before he knows it — he’s done. The truck is all good. Runs like a dream. It’s time for Steve to pay and leave. And they’re both loitering in the doorway to the office, and Eddie knows it’s because he’s actually starting to really like the guy. He’s passionate, and kind, and also kind of a bitch which was delightful to find out. He’s handsome as all hell and is a genuine fucking guy. And he doesn’t want him to leave.

He looks over at Steve. Steve, who bites his lip, pink and plump, before looking up at Eddie through his lashes. And sorry if this sounds dumb, but does Eddie want to come visit the farm? Have a look around when it’s not abandoned and overgrown?

Eddie feels his cheeks flush, sees the identical blush now gracing Steve’s cheeks, and says yes. It’s a date.

[wordingg]

Get Orbed, Losers

Little fic for Dead Boy Ween Day 4, prompt: orbs

Summary: Niko, Charles and Edwin are trapped inside a haunted house with an angry poltergeist when Charles and Edwin are poofed. Niko then has to save the day with only two chatty orbs for company.

London was very different from Port Townsend, not that Niko thought that was a bad thing. She had grown up in Tokyo, so it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to big cities. But, it was certainly a big change from the small relatively quiet town of Port Townsend.

Niko had expected that it would be hard to convince her mother to let her transfer to a school in London. But, she maybe underestimated how much her mother was willing to do to finally get a response back to her letters. If Niko thought about that for too long, it made her feel sad and guilty. So, she did her best to not think about it.

Reconnecting with her mother was hard. They were very different people and Niko didn’t feel like her mother understood her even a little bit, though it did seem like she was trying very hard to do so. Niko hadn’t even gotten close to broaching the subject of her new friends, living and dead, and her new interest in being a detective. Not only would her mother not understand, she probably wouldn’t believe her.

Admittedly, Niko thought most people wouldn’t believe that she spent most of her free time these days helping two dead boys solve mysteries for other dead people. But, she liked the new turn that her life had taken. Even if it ended up with her locked in a very haunted house by herself with only two floating orbs for companionship.

“Oh no!” Niko exclaimed. “How did this happen?” she asked, reaching out a hesitant finger toward the glowing bluish ball of light that she assumed was Edwin. He bumped into her finger and she was briefly assailed by the smell of old paper and a faint feeling of warmth, like warm buttery sunlight on a bright summer day.

“She dropped a piano on us,” Charles said in a wry tone, his own warm red orb sailing in circles around herself and Edwin.

Niko glanced over at the huge upright piano that was currently half embedded into the floor of the parlor.

“Wow,” Niko breathed, tilting her head a little to better see how deeply the piano had sunk into the next level of the house. “She must be a really strong ghost. I wonder what her work out routine is like…”

“I don’t believe her calisthenic habits have an effect on her ability to throw heavy objects,” Edwin said testily.

Charles’ little blush colored ball curled tighter on his next orbit around Niko and bumped affectionately into Edwin, knocking him a few inches to the left. There was a little burst of light when they hit that left sparkling afterimages on the back of Niko’s eyes.

“Oi, how do you know?” Charles asked with a laugh. “I don’t see you doing any squats. Maybe this calls for an experiment. We can work out every day and then see who can lift a piano easier.”

Even without a face Niko could tell that Edwin was rolling his eyes. “Really, Charles,” he said.

Charles laughed, his ball doing a little spin and then looping in a circle before he went back to orbiting Niko’s head. Edwin instead floated closer to Niko, getting close enough to her shoulder that she could feel a bit of the cold radiating off of him through her jacket.

“I suppose I’ll keep an eye out for falling furniture,” Niko said faintly as she turned back the way she came and started back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, shite. I keep forgetting you’re mortal,” Charles said. “We really need to get you of here. If this ghost can move pianos, then she’s too dangerous for you to be around.”

“So long as our poltergeist friend is holding all the doors and windows shut, I don’t think Niko will be able to make her exit,” Edwin muttered near her ear. He sounded like he was just right there, so it was strange to think he was just a little orb hiding behind her hair.

Niko put her fingers up to where Edwin’s voice had come from and he bumped against her fingers again in a friendly sort of way. This time she smelled kerosene and tasted some kind of very sweet candy. It was very pleasant.

“Don’t worry about me, guys,” she said. “You just focus on helping this poor ghost out. I know how to take care of myself.”

Charles scoffed, doing another little loop at the edge of Niko’s vision. “Yeah, well. I’d have said the same thing about us a few minutes ago and look where that got us.”

“Discorporation is just a small set back,” Edwin said stiffly. “Once we gather enough energy from the nearby surroundings we will be back to our normal selves. We can investigate just fine as is.”

It was handy having the boys as orbs for the time being. The servant corridors leading off the kitchen were narrow and had no wiring for electric lights, but their orbs cast enough light for Niko to see where she was going.

“What does it feel like to be an orb?” Niko asked curiously. Turning right, she found herself at the bottom of some very narrow, very steep stairs. They looked sort of dangerous. She imagined that it was probably really hard to navigate them when your hands were full of towels or a tea tray or whatever servants for fancy english nobles had to carry around these tight passageways.

“It’s sort of like if you had to sit in a little dark cramped room and like you have a controller with just a joystick to control your body and you can only see out of a little tiny window the size of your hand,” Charles explained, doing a few more flips in front of Niko’s face. It was distracting, but if that was what it felt like to be an orb, maybe Charles was feeling under stimulated. Doing flips might be the only way he could try and make his sensory input a little more interesting, poor thing.

“A very apt explanation, Charles,” Edwin said, sounding impressed.

Charles must have been happy with the compliment, because he started to spin in tight circles around Edwin, occasionally brushing against him in little flashes of light.

“Charles! Charles, enough! You’ll make yourself dizzy!” Edwin exclaimed, though it sounded to Niko like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve been dizzy a day of my afterlife, mate,” Charles said with a laugh, but did stop spinning around Edwin. “Can you get dizzy without an inner ear?”

They had reached the landing at the top of the stairs. Niko inched the door open slowly to reveal a very tastefully decorated sitting room on the second floor.

Charles dodged past her as she opened the door, his orb partially phasing through her neck as he did so. The flavor of hot spicy curry and thick fluffy rice exploded on her tongue as he did so.

“Mmm!” Niko hummed, pressing her fingers to her lips. The taste and the feel of the rice felt so real on her tongue that she almost thought there really was food in her mouth. “Oh, curry!” she exclaimed after a second. “I love curry,” she sighed.

“Me too!” Charles exclaimed. “There used to be this little place on the way home from school. God, they had the best curry. When I was a lad, it was so hot it almost burnt my tongue off, but I just couldn’t get enough!”

Niko smacked her lips a few times, savoring the lingering flavors that were quickly fading from her mouth and stepped into the room. “Well, you have excellent taste. I think I’d die for a whole plate of that,” she said very seriously to orb Charles.

Charles stopped his constant movement for a second.

“Wait. I’m sorry, did you just taste my favorite curry?” Charles asked.

“When you two bump into me I smell and taste all kinds of interesting things,” Niko explained.

“Whoah. That’s-”

Whatever Charles was about to say, it was cut off by Edwin talking over him. “Charles, Niko! Our ghost is here!”

When Niko turned to look she found that Edwin was right. There was a middle aged woman in a very tight and modest gray dress buttoned up to her chin was standing in the corner of the room glaring at her. The color had completely washed out of her, like she had stepped out of a grainy black and white film, and her eyes dark pits in her angular face.

“No one ever understands,” she said, her voice wobbling. Her hands were clenched in trembling fists by her side. “No one ever NOTICES!” she shouted, black tears overflowing and running down her face. “No one ever APPRECIATES all that I DO!”

“We’re not your family, lady! Give it a break!” Charles shouted, darting over to hover protectively between Edwin and Niko and the angry ghost crying in the corner.

“Charles, please do shut up!” Edwin shouted back, sounding stressed and more than a little scared.

“I’m sorry that nobody appreciates you,” Niko piped up, clasping her hands in front of her. “That must be really hard.”

Both of the orbs floated closer to Niko, but she kept her eyes trained on the crying woman. She looked so sad. It didn’t excuse her dropping a piano on her friends, but Niko still felt bad for her.

“It… It is hard,” the woman agreed after a long pregnant moment. She dashed her tears away with long delicate fingers and frowned out the window. “It is very hard when you work your hardest at something and never receive a single compliment or thank you.”

“You’re so right,” Niko nodded along. “One time I volunteered to make the collage for a group project in one of my classes. And, I spent all day gluing photos and glitter hearts and string to poster board. And the day of the presentation, none of my classmates even said thank you or said anything about my glitter hearts. That really hurt my feelings.”

The woman started to cry again, pressing her own elegant looking hands to her chest. “That’s just awful! I am not sure what ‘glitter hearts’ are, but I would have complimented you for the effort!”

“Thank you,” Niko said sincerely. “You seem like a really kind and thoughtful person.”

The woman started to cry harder. “Thank you,” she gasped.

“What is happening?” Charles whispered, though it was too loud to go unnoticed in the small room.

“Be quiet!” Edwin hissed.

“I know that it doesn’t feel nice when you have to point it out, but can I ask what you feel is going unappreciated?” Niko asked gently.

The woman threw her arms out wildly, tears still streaming down her face. “Everything!” she exclaimed. “I built this house from the ground up! I practically drew up the architectural plans myself, because James was just useless at it. I picked out all the furniture, saw it all delivered and arranged, picked out the rugs, the drapes, the decor! I built this home entirely by myself so that my family could live here and be happy and then I worked myself to death to make it so!” the woman sobbed loudly, the sound wracking her whole body and making her tremble. Faintly, the objects on the shelves began to vibrate. “All of that and now they’re just going to tear it down and turn it into-into-” she took another great gasping breath “a strip mall!” she shouted before collapsing into tears.

They all stood awkwardly for a while, avoiding each other’s eyes while the lady ghost in the corner cried and sobbed.

“The drapes are really very lovely,” Niko commented, reaching out a finger to carefully trace the line of a faded green stem woven into the heavy fabric.

“They really are,” Edwin agreed. “They draw the eye and really warm up the room.”

“Thank you,” the woman sobbed. She took a few steps forward and collapsed onto one of the nearby settees. The objects on the shelves stopped shaking. “I worked so hard while I was alive because I loved my family. But, all my work went ignored and now it’s been completely forgotten. It makes one feel rather unloved, doesn’t it?” she asked tearfully.

Niko walked over to sit beside her. She took her delicate hands and folded them between her own. The woman’s hands were ice cold, but they were also soft and small, like her own. These hands had worked tirelessly and she loved them just a little bit for that.

“I don’t believe for a second that you were unloved,” Niko says firmly. “Sometimes people get caught up in their own stuff and have a hard time seeing things. But, that doesn’t mean that they didn’t love you.”

The spectral hands she held in her own squeezed, sending a cold ache up Niko’s arms. The woman’s face was folded into bittersweet lines.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “Of course you’re right. Perhaps I’m the one who is ‘caught up’ as you said.”

“Maybe,” Niko agreed with a tilt of her head. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Quite,” the woman agreed with a wet sniff.

Then, the room was flooded with a soft blue light.

“Edwin!” Charles shouted, spinning around Edwin in the fastest circles that Niko had seen yet.

“Don’t wait for me! Just go!” Edwin shouted back, already speeding off through the wall in what Niko thought was probably the direction of the foyer.

“I have to go,” Niko said, turning back to the woman’s ghost. She was frowning in confusion at the wall that Charles and Edwin had just disappeared through. “But, a nice woman should be coming to talk to you soon. You should listen to what she has to say,” Niko explained, climbing back to her feet.

The woman nodded, turning toward where the blue light was strongest. She looked younger and happier, the light washing years off of her lined face.

“Yes, I will,” she said, not looking at Niko.

Niko gave the woman’s profile a smile. She would be okay. Niko had faith.

She exited through the door in the wall that Charles and Edwin had flown through. It lead to a hallway that took her back to the foyer with the piano in the floor.

“Niko! Thank God,” Edwin exclaimed, flying up to make his own nervous circles around her as Niko emerged at the top of the staircase.

“Hi, Edwin!” Niko said, happy to see him doing well. She cupped a hand around his orb and he obligingly settled into it, his touch giving her the scent of beeswax and the taste of honey. “I’m glad you two got away fast enough. I think our ghost friend will be okay now.”

“Glad you’re okay too, Niko,” Charles said warmly, settling his orb near Niko’s other shoulder. She cupped a gentle hand around him and smelled fresh cut grass and tasted sweet black tea.

The quiet moment was broken by Crystal slamming through the front door, her eyes wild, her hair a cloud of wayward curls flying around her head, and a huge pickaxe held in her hands. The outward facing side of the door had clearly seen the wrong end of said pickaxe, judging by the huge gouges in the ancient wood.

“Crystal!” Niko said happily, letting go of Edwin and Charles so that she could descend the stairs.

“Niko!” Crystal exclaimed, looking distinctly more ruffled than Niko herself. She threw the pickaxe to the side and then threw herself at Niko so hard that she nearly fell over backward. Crystal’s tears quickly soaked through the shoulder of Niko’s jacket and her thin strong arms were tacky with sweat. “God, don’t scare me like that! Do you have any idea what awful sounds that were coming from in here!?”

“Did it sound something like a piano falling through the floor?” Charles asked curiously.

His voice sounded much stronger than it had for the past two minutes, so Niko partially extracted herself from Crystal so she could look up at him. He and Edwin were both standing at the bottom of the stairs, now in their normal dead boy shapes.

“Oh. Yeah, it did,” Crystal said, turning from Niko to frown at the piano that was still partway through the floor a few feet from them.

“Aw,” Niko said, turning back toward Edwin and Charles. “No more orbs, huh? I’m going to miss Chorb and Orbwin.”

Charles’ eyes went huge with amusement while Edwin winced like he was in pain.

“Chorb!?” Charles shouted.

“No,” Edwin said faintly.

“And, Orbwin!?” Charles shouted.

“No, absolutely not,” Edwin said louder.

Charles turned to Edwin with a feral grin. “Chorb and Orbwin! Mate, that’s us. That’s our orb-sonas.”

Edwin squinted at him. “I don’t know what that is and I don’t want you to explain it to me this time.”

“Guys, this is cute and all, but can we please get out of here?” Crystal asked, looking frazzled. Niko reached out to hold her hand and felt blisters where the pickaxe handle must have rubbed her hands raw. Niko frowned and pressed Crystal’s hand tighter in her own.

“What an absolutely capital idea, Crystal,” Edwin said stiffly, walking across the foyer and toward the front door with long strides that made him look like he was gliding. Edwin had such a pretty way of moving. Niko really envied him that.

“We can get curry,” Niko suggested, giving Crystal’s hand a pat. “Charles knows a good place.”

“I’d like that,” Crystal sniffled, following Niko and Edwin out of the house.

“Oi, it’s been like forty years. The place probably isn’t still around,” Charles said doubtfully as he followed them out of the house.

But, Charles was wrong because the little curry place near his old school was still in business. Even though he couldn’t eat any of his favorite menu items, Niko was more than happy to order them and assure him that it was just as good now as it was back then. Charles looked a little misty eyed to hear that.

And Crystal fell asleep on her shoulder on the cab ride back into the heart of London. And Charles did eventually explain to Edwin what a -sona was, even if Edwin looked like he wanted to phase through the floor the whole time.

And, overall, it was another excellent investigation completed by the Dead Boy Detectives (plus psychic (plus Niko)) and another great day for Niko Sasaki and her friends.

[callsignvenomcod]

baby boy

Prompt: Reader's Simon childhood love from Manchester. Or Simon's past catches up with him on a random patrol day.

One shot based on the song "Baby boy" by Childish Gambino.

warnings: parent abandonment, age gap couple.

______________________________________________________________

It was an agreement.

It was a civil agreement made between two responsible adults in the best benefit of a third party. It was supposed to be easy, the best way to come to terms with it, but as he was going to learn later in life, nothing came easy for Simon Riley. Or anyone unlucky or dumb enough to stick around with him.

He secretly always imagined how it would be like to see her again. It was a pleasure he reserved for lonely nights, for really long desert crawls, for the frail moments, suspended in air, between standing at the edge of a helicopter door and the decisive jump. He always imagined alternative universes in which he actually had a lucky star, in which he actually had a chance at life, at happiness, at being domestic, nothing but a fat house cat.

Simon met the girl in the butcher shop. He took the first job he could get his hands on. It wasn't bad. Not bad, bad.

Where else? Girls like her didn't walk around his side of town, but they all had to eat; and cutting up carnage and splashing around blood, that he could do. She walked into the Butcher's, making the little bell on top of the door ding, and Simon knew, with as much certain that he knew that one day he would die, that his life had changed forever.

He was scarred but the light inside him still worked. Simon had skeletons in his closet, but he was doing such a good job at keeping them at bay. When she walked into the butcher's, fivers in her hand, Simon could stand up straight, could spare a few small smiles, could keep the voices in his mind at peace, for the brief interactions, the shared smiles and pleasantries, the "What's your name?", "You from around?" and "What time you get off?", the way the girl tried so very hard to divert her gaze from the blood stained apron.

It led to so much more. She worked half time at a chippy, and they did good. They did really good for a couple conformed by a Manchester alley kid and the fucking angel that she was. He was in love, and therefore he was in trouble, because no one was around to teach him how to deal with a swollen heart about to burst; and with an outside world that was made of needles and pins.

He liked the way her smile tilted up whenever she was directing it to him, the way she would sit down at a stool in the butcher's, waiting for him to get off shift, just so he could walk her home. Liked the way her skin felt under his rugged hands, how soaked she would get through grey panties, how he drank her saliva right off her lips and how she whispered how much she loved him, actually, truly, loved him, while he was trying his best not to cum in his pants, short breath, in the living room of her house, while her mother was upstairs watching Channel 4, willing to overlook the fact that Simon was a bit (or a lot) older than her daughter because she had never seen her so happy.

And they loved each other. He can say it; it doesn't hurt, doesn't embarrass him either; if anything, he feels unusually lucky his nostalgia makes him wonder at nights, patrolling the barracks or in this case, a small English city, with so many men and women who looked like the people he grew up with.

Then 9/11 happened, and it was too big to ignore, too big to drink away, and she cried when saying goodbye to him on the train station on his way to join, and she knew deep down inside her that Simon Riley was not the kind of man that would turn around to give her one last glance before disappearing into the military for a few months. It was a higher calling, something bigger than him, a reason to get away, from his childhood home that was wrecking, from his father, from something hungry that lived inside of him and was getting out of control.

She called him the minute she way Tommy starting to get bad. She was younger, younger than Tommy even and had reached out to a cabin to dial the number he gave her "for emergencies only", and she told him how Tommy had been stealing from their mum, stumbling around alleys with the wrong crowd, leaving Beth a crying mess in her room, looking too much like Daddy.

That's when he came back. Took a train in the January rain and fixed his whole house up. Picked up his mum from the hoarder state she was in, kicked common sense into his baby brother and simultaneously kicked his old man out. Never to be seen again.

Y/N's watched from the courtside every moment; watched as Simon cleaned up vomit from Tommy's chin, while Beth's belly swollen with a baby, and she cooked porridge while Simon allowed his mum to cry on his chest for hours and hours, victim of the detox, of the night horrors, and herself. All of them became the new Riley's in a way, and she stopped going home to her mother, just crashing at Simon's twin size mattress, in his childhood bedroom that still had the Man U posters on the walls and a beaten-up Walkman CD player.

-I couldn't do this without you...- Simon had whispered after a particularly difficult night that involved Tommy screaming and Beth threatening to throw herself off the stairs. They were lying in bed in their underwear, cozied up together, warm limbs and tangled sheets, staring at the fading glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. She turned on her side, staring at his nose drawn by the shadows. His warm, yet tired eyes, looked back at her and they shared a sorry excuse of a smile before they could share a kiss.

They were in the shit, and the girl on his too small bed was in it for the laughs of it, for a chance to sleep by his side. For that thing they called love.

Winter arrived. The house was freezing still, but they could afford heating now. Now Tommy was paid up for, and he was a butcher at the groceries, and Beth stayed home with Mum and Jacob, the baby. He was skinny for a newborn, the doctors said, but he will catch up with breastfeeding. Simon was a best man at the wedding, but he didn't give a speech. Y/N's was maid of honor, but only because Beth had no other friends. The photos never lie, and you can see Simon with the longest hair he's ever had, in a fitted suit, stern look, a girl clinging from his arm, a baby brother hugging him, a mother with crinkles, a sister-in-law elegantly 9 months pregnant in a wedding dress.

For a moment it was nice, and the future was looking bright. He got a taste of what life could have been like if the stars would have been kind to them. He would wake up early to jog and would see the back of Tommy's head while he left for work, and almost every day his mum would be up, carrying around Jacob in a bathrobe. Beth would cook breakkie and Y/N's would always ask him if he wanted red or brown sauce even if she knew that he wanted brown.

It could have been...good. Great, even. But instead of that it was real life.

He left for Ukraine a few days after he learned she was pregnant with his child; and he thanked every damn God or Goddess he knew of when he learned that everyone was dead except her; her mum falling ill and asking her to take care of her in her childhood house. The blood didn't reach her; she still didn't pay for loving Simon. He became radioactive after that and closed his ears to any plea, to any love confession and promise of safety. He wanted her to hate him, to want him away, he wanted her to have an abortion, she wanted a baby. A baby with him. His baby.

"A part of me and you", she said, "something ours. Untouchable."

But they weren't untouchable, were they? He had scars for days to prove it, coffins, even a child size one, night horrors, a medal, had proof every time he closed his eyes, had nightmares about how many people had touched him and everyone near him. It was a no brainer.

When Price told 141 about this patrolling mission, he would be lying if he said that a shiver ran down his spine and he heard bells for a couple of minutes before forcing himself to come back to the briefing reunion. There was always a chance.

While everyone thought that Ghost would be at least thrilled at the prospect of going back to the UK, Price kept a close eye on him. He knew he was only a few years older than Simon, and his boss as well, but they had seen hell together and survived it. The captain cared for his team, cared, weather he wanted to admit it or not.

Truth was that he wanted to say he knew all about the men he worked with, but that would be a lie, a lie every captain said once in a while. He knew, for example, that Johnny "Soap" MacTavish had two older sisters in Fort Augustus, Scotland, Mary and Ava. He knew Roach had a horrible fear of clowns for some accident in a party all those years ago, Nikolai, Yuri, he had facts about them too.

He knew, for example, that somewhere in England, Ghost had a kid. A baby boy.

Every month, a generous amount of his paycheck went to a throwaway account in the Bank of England, more than half. And he had listed a minor for healthcare and schooling, housing military benefits, The name was Alfie Riley, listed as Alfie Smith; and he was 6 years old.

Simon knew he knew. He trusted that upon him, not out of pure friendship or companionship, but maybe with a hint of letting him know that if it leaked, he had no problem into taking the business into his own hands. There was only so much you could stretch a person without breaking it, and if anything happened to the boy, Price knew it would be Simon's point of no return. A monster would be born or rather, let out of the cage.

Sometimes he thought about it while staring at him on a briefing. Sometimes he tried not to.

-Right. The intel we have on this cell comes from the right source. Our man says this human trafficking cell operates within the church compounds. He believes it has something to do with the orphanage...

Captain Price's voice boomed through the briefing room designated in the security house. They had arrived a few days ago, and it looked as if the whole city of Salisbury took a deep breath at the presence of military men and women. For sure it was an odd view, big bulky men walking around the country fields, around town, asking questions, smiling, blank faces, new voices and sights; but they knew, at least, the problems the community had been facing, will now come to an end finally. The 141 was going to help with that. They were the good lads.

-So split up, ask around. They know were here. - Price said, staring at Gaz from behind his desk; giving the order and finishing the meeting. Soap and Simon bantered around something as they usually did. He sighed, watching as Simon stared dead in front of him while the younger soldier tried to get inside his head. -Kyle, you're with me. Let Bert and Ernie fetch for themselves. - he sentenced, and that was that.

They were sent to walk around Salisbury. They could see the warmth of people's lives, a few kids crossing the street, a teenager in love, dogs being walked, girls staring at windows with headphones on, daydreaming. It was a life so far from the one they had, from the one they choose when they were too young, that is seemed foreign, alien. Johnny MacTavish smiled at walkers who stared at the vest, or his stupid haircut, whatever that catches their sight first.

Salisbury was a small city, one of the smallest in England, actually, and Simon had never been there before this mission. There was a church in every corner, much like Cornwall, but it lacked the shore and the salt in the water. It was Johnny who did all the talking anyway; what, with being younger, less imponent, with the thick Scottish accent that made everyone pay attention, either to help or to even try to understand what he was saying. Specially since Johnny actually had a face to show, and a friendly one.

Right now, Simon was backup, right now he was deuteragonist.

Simon limits himself to lean against one of the local pastries shop fronts, while Johnny walked inside. He thinks that right now would be a great time to have picked up the habit of smoking, to pass the time, to measure it in cigarettes, but a troubled childhood and several fading little dot scars on his arms remind him how repulsed he was by cigarettes. So, he stares at the road in front of him, at the other shops, at the people that stare back at him because of-fucking-course, he's wearing a skull balaclava, and he's 6'2, and he's a crucial part of the army party that erupted in Salisbury a few days ago, asking questions, taking names.

It takes him a minute or two to realize what's going on. It was an agreement. Part ways, stay in the country to get the benefit, but never let each other know where they were. When Simon died, a letter would arrive, a letter with his dog tags and she will see it fit to know what to do next.

-Fucking hell...- he muttered and sprung up like a slinky. He panicked for a few moments before realizing even if she stared right at him, she couldn't recognize him; she would only see a dirty, dusty skull balaclava and black grease over his eyes.

She would not see Simon, the boy that left her a few years ago, he wouldn't see Simon the man who simply stood there while she was trying to level with him on raising the kid together, to be a family, and she wouldn't see Simon, the man who did what he had to do. Who erased his own face from the world, who spared them both, Y/N's and Alfie, of a life of wondering when they were going to be kidnapped, hurt or killed.

Men like Simon were not meant to have a family, to have people to depend on them, not like this, not this close, because in the blink of an eye, shit would hit the fan and things like Manchester massacre would happen again and again and again. He would be left firing his gun to an empty field with nothing ticking inside his chest. It was better this way.

But nothing could prepare him for this moment. It was a sick joke of destiny, really, to be stationed in one of the smallest cities in England, and for her to be standing right across the street, holding their son in her arms, looking both sides, like a good mum, before letting her white keds touch the pavement.

Alfie was a brunette. It made sense; and if this was lighter, he would roll his eyes and the bowl cut the kid had, which combined with their missing could be a picture-perfect description of a rascal. Except he didn't know a thing about Alfie other that he had been to the doctors twice past month, one to the dentist, one to the medic. Stomachache. 10 pounds for tablets. Simon didn't know if he was a rascal or not, if he had friends or didn't, if he was in trouble at school or not, didn't know his favorite show or his favorite color, what he wanted to be when he grew up. All he knew was that he loved him, it didn't matter that the kid will never hear from him or meet him. Simon loved them enough to remove himself from their lives. To give them a chance that he was denied from the beginning.

His P.O. box said that he got letters once in a while, from different cities in England, and you didn't have to be a genius to figure out who wrote to him. He only ever picked up one, and it was simply a polaroid. It was her, and it was his son, and she was smiling at the camera with very tired eyes, an oversized shirt, and messy hair, and Alfie was on her lap, missing teeth, bowl cut, space shirt, freckled face full of birthday cake. A candle in the shape of the number 6.

Little hands, little feet, tiny heart, tiny beat

It was better this way. He would repeat himself that every morning as soon as he woke up in a barrack, instead of a military housing, alone and cold, instead of next to her and warm with the heat of her body. Sneaking a quick fuck with the love of his life before the kid two doors down woke up.

It was better this way. She would walk right past him, not knowing that the soldier in front of the pastries shop learned every curve in her body, every freckle, the birthmark in her right rib; He would thank his mask once again, and let his eyes wonder at the way she struggled with her bag, with still holding Alfie in her arms, while trying to stay alert.

It was better this way. A grenade will reach him, or the enemy, Ali Baba, a Russian, a Mexican, another Brit, the son or daughter or brother or best friend of someone he fucked up in the past. Cancer, a snake.

A heart failure at 70, a bullet at 41. He would die eventually, and they will give him his dog tags, and he will have a slight discomfort knowing his father died, but that's it. Like learning an actor from your childhood died of age; sad, but irrelevant. The day will go on.

It was better this way. She will fall in love again, with a bank clerk, or a veterinarian or Alfie's football coach. Someone else will teach Alfie how to be a father, will tie his shoelaces, will talk to him about girls, about fist fights, will buy him his first pint. It was better this way; Y/N's will tell him about him someday and he will look for him, or not, he will understand or not, he will hate him, forgive him, love him, in that order, or not.

It was better this way. It was.

There was a time before you, and there will be a time after you. With these vibes or not, walk tall, little man, walk tall.

It was better this way. His breath would get caught up in his throat as he saw Y/N's try to control the child, placing him on the ground, holding his hand while she looked inside her bag for something. And Alfie's blue eyes would wonder his surroundings, piercing his father's heart without knowing so. Simon wouldn't move, Alfie neither, but they would stare at each other for a few seconds before the kid broke out in a smile, tugging at his mother's hand, saying something in a squeaky voice, with a south accent, tiny index finger pointing at Ghost's skull mask. He had his mother's smile, but those eyes were all Simon.

Y/N looked up, finally finding some keys on her bag before returning her attention to the boy latched to her hand and she will also look at Simon without knowing so. The woman would frown for a moment, before giving up a quivering smile, murmuring something to the kid, pulling him to the opposite direction. And for Alfie, that was going to be it. The day went on. The man stood there thinking he couldn't do this with her, he shouldn't, and every attempt to reach out was an attempt against his kin. That there were some people that shouldn't be a father, like his own father, like his father's father.

She turned around a few times, locking eyes with the man in the balaclava before disappearing into the street, mixing up with the people walking by; the coats and the jackets. And Simon gulped down nervous saliva, suddenly needing to lean on the wall a bit more than he wanted to admit.

It was better this way.

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Hello! Venom here.

This is the first time I write for the COD fandom and for Ghost Riley. An absolute menace, I think he is. Please let me know what you think about it and give me a follow if you liked it.

Thank you :)

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: Things get heated in both senses of the word… I toned it down here, but the final chapter will go further 😉 I have to say this chapter was a bit of an unruly beast, but I hope it worked out in the end. Expect some angst and as usual, fluff.

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Different Dreams

Since that wintry night in February which left you reeling from having kissed your best friend, you never found the opportunity to speak with him on where you both stood. Things just kept getting in the way: preparing for junior year finals, college admission tests, then summer placements and so on. To be fair, you weren’t exactly keen on confronting the question either, since you still weren’t sure whether you and Leon would be in the same place after graduating from high school. You had long since crossed the river of denial and you liked him a lot, but you were selfish. If you had to choose between a relationship with him and Tisch School of the Arts, the one college you had always dreamed of going to since you were young, you knew you’d pick the latter in a heartbeat. And that fucked you up. You couldn’t help but feel guilty each time he tried to broach the subject of “that night”, and when you brushed him off, he didn’t get upset or push it. He just waited patiently as ever, with a hopeful look in his eyes, that someday you’d be ready to talk. 

Maybe it was just better to remain as friends. That said, you were there for him as one. You supported him, teasing through the countless college possibilities he had swimming around in his mind, after he returned from the school’s career counselor. When the local police force had come round to give one of their recruitment talks, he seemed to have taken an interest in their work. In particular, their speech about directly interacting with and helping civilians in times of need really resonated with him. Although you were wary about cops in general, questioning the punishment system and incidences of police brutality, you encouraged him to follow what felt right to him.

As you sat together with him on his bed, littered with a bunch of police academy brochures that were sprawled across the covers, he went through the reasons that led him to make this choice, and you began to connect the dots. “Remember when you said that I’m a good person?”

“Yeah?” You perked up.

“Well, I just wondered how I could be more of that,” he explained.

Did he feel like he needed to prove himself, just so he could believe in it? You were dying to tell him that he didn’t have to do all of this. That he was perfect the way he was. But sometimes people just needed to go through the motions themselves. This was his journey to make, so you bit back your tongue and listened.

“I want to help regular people, like you and me. Protecting the innocent, changing their lives for the better…” He stared into space for a while before continuing. “And what about all the unsolved cases? Those families deserve closure.”

You realized that closure from the past was something he never had.

“I mean, I just want to make a difference somehow,” he reiterated.

“Hm, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” He remarked sheepishly, constantly glancing at you for your opinion.

“No… no, not at all.” You shook your head, reassuring him sincerely. “Well, you know I don’t have the best impression of cops,” you laughed. “But that will change, with you.”

“You think so?” A slight smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

You leaned back against the mattress on your forearms and confirmed. “Hell, Leon. If there’s such a thing as a model police officer, I think you’re gonna be that.”

“There isn’t a single bad bone in your body.” You winked. “Not vouching for the lame ones though.”

“Gee, thanks.” He was blushing now as he twiddled his thumbs.

“I take it that you’re gonna enjoy helping old ladies cross the road?” You couldn’t resist teasing him when he looked like that.

“Sure, you know you can call on me anytime.” He smirked.

You forgot he had a knack for winding you up. “Fuck you, Leon!”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, although you could tell from his expression that he was only half-kidding.

That stopped you in your tracks, as a mental image of you and Leon in various intimate positions formed in your mind. You swallowed hard, feeling a burning sensation of arousal surging within. Despite that, you shrugged off those thoughts and picked up one of the brochures lying in the pile to distract yourself. “So, you’re gonna visit the open house?”

You heard what sounded like a disheartened sigh before he replied, “Yeah I’d like to.” He turned to face you expectantly. “It’d be nice, if uh, you came along?”

“They’re all pretty nearby,” he added, trying to sweeten the deal. As if you needed convincing.

You rolled your eyes, exclaiming, “Even if it was a gazillion miles away, I’d still be there.”

Echoing his previous sentiment at the time he had supported you at your performance, you mentioned naively, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

When you caught him wincing and tightening up at the word “friends”, you realized the blunder you had made, but it was too late.

He stood up silently and made his way over to his desk, busying himself with a stack of papers.

That hand-wringing sensation of guilt started to swell in your chest again. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, you got up to leave. “Just let me know when, ok?”

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, without turning around to see you off. You walked out of his room with your eyes downcast, trying to console yourself that it was for the best. The police academies he had singled out weren’t even remotely near New York. There was no way it would work out. No way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You accompanied Leon to the open houses that summer, as he got a good look around the various campuses, asking inquisitive questions and highlighting his athletic achievements, albeit rather humbly. After some nudging from you, he began to mention his academics too. You always held his intelligence in high regard, which you had noticed in class and during your study sessions, that were miraculously still going on despite his earlier reluctance. In your opinion, he would make a great detective, though he had tried to downplay it when you shared it with him.

In any case, you should’ve known that it never ends well when unresolved things are left to fester. So here you were, in your room this time, having the biggest argument you’ve ever encountered with Leon so far.

It all started when you were grabbing something quick from your shelf, before heading out with Leon for a walk along the surrounding forest trails, just so you could make the best use of the remaining summer days. He’d waited around the entrance to your room when something piqued his interest. Walking in, he pointed at a makeshift board lying by your bedside. “Jeez, what’s this? An evidence board or something?”

Whipping your head around, you laughed, “It’s to keep track of all the colleges I’m applying to, dumbass.”

Resting his fingers under his chin, he tilted his head and noted without hiding his disappointment, “They’re kinda far away.” 

“And this one.” He pointed to the red circle in the middle. “That’s your dream school, huh?” At least he remembered. Not like you hadn’t been going on about it for ages.

“Yeah, since I was little.” You nodded, taking a couple of steps closer, till you joined Leon at his side. A moment of doubt set in, as you shrugged and chewed your lip nervously. “I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

“You’re more than good enough,” he stated simply, in a tone deeper than usual. It reverberated across the room as he eyed you intently. 

“I’ve watched you-” He pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist, which elicited a small gasp from your lips. “Perform.” His other hand trailed up to caress your cheek.

“Choreograph,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Teach.” He smiled fondly at the memory of picking you up from class one day, as the little ballerinas you taught gathered around your legs quizzing, Miss, is that your boyfriend? 

Meanwhile, it felt like your brain was malfunctioning, as you stood frozen on the spot, losing yourself in the pool of his ocean blue eyes, while he issued you compliment after compliment, finally finishing with, “You’re incredibly talented.”

Stroking his thumb gently over your bottom lip, his gaze followed suit, transfixed by its outline. Checking for any signs of discomfort on your face but finding none, he leaned in, planting his mouth on yours, as an involuntary moan escaped from your throat. No matter how much you tried to fight it, your body would not lie. It craved his touch, and all at once, you threw out the barriers you had placed between yourself and Leon in the past few months.

Sliding your hands up his chest, you parted your lips slightly to allow his tongue to slip inside. The kisses grew hungrier and more urgent as you tasted each other, causing you to stumble backwards onto your bed with him laying on top of you. You were so glad your parents were out, as the door to your bedroom was wide open and both of you weren’t exactly keeping very quiet about things. He peppered kisses along your neck, as his hands roamed across your body. Then his lips traveled downwards to your chest and you tangled your hands tightly in his hair, cursing his name in pleasure under your breath.

There were countless thoughts running through your head, like how fast you and Leon were going, and how badly you wanted him, but something was screaming inside of you about how wrong all of this was. You were just friends, right? You shouldn’t be leading him on like this.

With whatever resolve you had left, you tore yourself away and pushed him off you, stammering, “I’m sorry, I can’t!” You were shaking uncontrollably as Leon regarded you with a mixture of worry and confusion, panting heavily through his swollen, red lips.

“Wha-? Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” The questions came out like rapid fire.

“I-I’m fine.” You looked down in embarrassment as you adjusted your clothes.

“Then, what’s wrong?” His brows were knitted in distress, wondering if he had unknowingly crossed your boundaries.

“I just don’t think this is such a good idea,” you offered hesitantly.

Running his hand through the mess you had made of his silky blonde hair, he sighed, “Why? What about that night?” There it was again.

You bit your lip apprehensively. “We never followed up on that.”

As his face contorted in anguish, you knew that your time of delaying the inevitable had run out, and he wasn’t going to let it go now. “It was like you never wanted me to bring it up.” He began to raise his voice, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I gave you months… Months!”

“It’s… complicated,” you whispered.

“How?” He asked, bristling with irritation.

“Well, for starters, we’re gonna be living miles apart by the time we finish high school.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered, crossing his arms firmly, as if shielding himself from being let down again.

“What do you mean?” You blurted out in bewilderment.

By now, he had gotten up and paced around your room restlessly. “You could… I don’t know, go to one of the bigger cities around here. I heard Chicago’s got a pretty good-”

You felt a flash of annoyance as you cut him off instantly. “You know I’ve wanted to go to Tisch my whole life!”

“I don’t understand you!” He choked, shaking his head furiously. “You’d travel miles with me to the academies, but you can’t even think of doing this long distance?” 

He was grasping at straws to keep you, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t know if you were right for each other. In your mind, Leon was a bit of a homebody, judging by the college choices he had made. He needed someone who could provide him with stability and the white picket fence American dream. You couldn’t do that. You wanted to travel the world and live out new experiences.

As you hugged yourself wordlessly, unable to look at him, he softened, once again trying to reason things out. “I just thought… we mattered too.”

Your heart broke as he said that. You wanted nothing more than warmth and intimacy with him on this lazy Sunday, cuddling and trading affectionate kisses. But you couldn’t. “You do matter to me, Leon.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” There was no more anger in his voice, only sadness.

He deserved an answer, and you would give him one. You just didn’t expect to be so inept at choosing how to express yourself. “We both have our own dreams,” you tried to explain. “They’ve just turned out to be very different.” 

The next line came out a lot harsher than you intended. “I can’t have someone holding me back. I’m sorry.”

Before regret could even sink in, Leon had started to take his leave, his expression turning colder than ice. “No, I’m sorry for even trying,” he commented bitterly. “I’ll stop wasting your time.”

“Leon!” You called out after him, but he paid no attention and continued to walk off. “It came out wrong,” you pleaded. “That’s not what I meant!”

The last thing you heard was your front door slamming shut.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the next weeks when senior year started, you tried to reach out to Leon to no avail. He had become a distant shell of his former self. There was an air of aloofness each time you bumped into each other, as he pretended not to recognize you. All the notes you attempted to pass to him in class ended up crumpled and thrown into the bin without being read. You felt a stab to your gut every single time.

However, you were observant enough to make out the sting of hurt in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. You knew he was keeping you at an arm’s length to protect himself, but also partly to give you a taste of your own medicine, just like when you had foolishly dragged things on, hoping they would resolve themself without giving him an answer. Until it was too late. You hated him for being so immature and childish, but you held yourself responsible for starting it first.

Then, the rumors came. You saw him with that girl, Val?, again. They were doing the things you used to do together before the fallout. It made you sick to your stomach, but you said nothing. Maybe you deserved all of this, you thought.

“Lattes after class?” Kayla’s chirpy voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Hm?” You weren’t really in the mood, but you tried your best to smile through it.

“They brought in the pumpkin spice ones early this season! Can you believe it?” She giggled excitedly, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she proceeded to whisper into your ear, “Come on, you and I need some girl-to-girl talk.”

As you made your way towards the cafe, you caught sight of Leon with his arm around Val on the other side of the street. Kayla wrinkled her nose at them, as she quickened her pace, pulling you along. “Smooth, real smooth, Kennedy,” she muttered under breath.

Whilst it was comforting to know you had someone who supported you through this - something which you didn’t expect, not least from Kayla - you were flung into the center of drama and gossip again. 

Clink. Kayla placed both cups of coffee on the table as she sat down, adjusting her mini skirt before turning to face you attentively. “Spill it.”

You shrugged, glancing around awkwardly.

She tried prompting you at first, “Did he break up with you?” No answer.

“He did something stupid.” No answer.

“Oh my god, he cheated on you, didn’t he?” She accused melodramatically, such that a couple of customers in the cafe glowered over in displeasure at the noise.

You slapped a palm against your forehead and cringed. “Kayla, please.”

“Oops, sorry.”

You sighed, deciding that perhaps it would do some good to open up a little, instead of keeping things to yourself all the time. “It was me. I fucked up, ok?”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed. “It always takes two to tango.” She checked out her manicured nails for a second before continuing, “And even if he was the sweet angel as you claim he is, he sure is fucking it up spectacularly now.”

You raised an eyebrow. Strong choice of words. “Look, we were never really together. I mean, we did some things-” You paused, swallowing anxiously. “-friends don’t usually do.” 

She gave you a knowing smirk, gesturing at you to continue.

“I told him…” At this, your voice cracked, “I didn’t want him, Kayla.” Your mouth quivered, as stray tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, babe,” she cooed. “But you do, don’t you?” She placed her hand over yours understandingly.

You weren’t used to crying, especially not out in the open like this. You pulled away from Kayla, wiping the tears away roughly with the back of your hand, as you straightened up and put on the same facade you always do. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s with Val-”

Immediately, Kayla scowled. “That girl has some nerve! I knew it,” she spat. “Always waiting in the sidelines to bag your man.”

“It’s not her fault!” You protested. As far as you were concerned, you and Leon hadn’t made any promises to each other. He was free to go out with whoever he wanted.

Kayla rolled her eyes, “I’m sure she couldn’t wait one hot minute.”

“If that’s the case, then Leon should’ve waited too, right?” You argued. If you had to go along with this warped way of reasoning with her, then so be it. 

“Fair enough,” she conceded, though you could tell that she wasn’t exactly happy about the outcome, and you wanted to put a stop to whatever mean girl prank she had up her sleeve. 

“I’m serious. Don’t,” you warned.

She threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Ok, Miss Party Pooper… I won’t do anything to her. I swear!”

━━━━━━━━━━━

It took you a while to realize what Kayla’s actual plan of action was. In her typical fashion, it was loud, flashy and drew the attention of the whole school. It happened during lunch break in one of the weeks following your girl talk. You had seated yourself with the rest of the cheer team at the cafeteria, when you saw her slam her cutlery down on the table, snarling, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit!”

The rest of the girls including you stared at her in shock, as she stormed up to where the other sports teams usually sat. She made a beeline for the blonde boy whom you’d been moping about for most of the term now, situating herself between him and his latest flame. You couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it made Val scurry off, before she and Leon entered into some sort of shouting match. You only managed to make out bits and pieces of it.

“What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Let me guess, the classy rebound-” Slow clap.

“Stay out of it-”

“You’re the one causing trouble!”

The next minute, she pointed at you, motioning to come over. Leon’s eyes grew dark, giving you a withering glare as you walked towards them with a mix of reluctance and unease. You despised being singled out like this, but you needed to put an end to running away from your problems.

Once you had made your way over, Kayla, who was seemingly pretty satisfied herself, barked out an order, “You two, just sort it out! It’s driving me insane.”

When she left the table and the curious onlookers - which meant literally everyone in the cafeteria - had decided to resume back to whatever they were doing, you uttered the first words to Leon in a long time, “Well, that was awkward.”

“You don’t say.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would get like that,” you admitted.

He still held his guard up as he regarded you stoically. “So what did you want to talk about?”

You sighed, hoping you would do better this time. But there was just so much to say. Where to start? “I just wanted apologize for what I said that day,” you treaded cautiously. “I miss you, Leon.” You were getting glassy-eyed again, but you braved on. “And I still really care about you.”

His lips were pinched together as he considered your words. He had his reservations, but his hard gaze was slowly faltering. For a while, he didn’t respond. Just as you thought you had overstayed your welcome, he piped up almost inaudibly, “I care, too.”

You nodded in response and took your leave. You knew things would never be the same again, but this was enough for now.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The atmosphere between you and Leon remained tense, but at least it was amicable now. Apparently, Val was out of the picture. Nothing happened, they went on a date or two and Leon called it off. Well, that was what was going through the rumor mill anyway.

Still, it killed you inside, as it felt like you had lost a lover and a best friend. When you received your acceptance letter in December from Tisch, you didn’t even know whether to celebrate or not. Moreover, the one person you would have celebrated with was hardly in your life anymore. Kayla pushed you to tell Leon regardless, and you started to think maybe you had the wrong impression of some of your schoolmates after all. They did seem to look out for you, in their own weird way. It was like reading Pride and Prejudice all over again.

That’s what brought you in front of Leon’s front door, as you rang the doorbell in anticipation. You flinched as the door opened. The corridor was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the light filtered through the doorway, partly blocked by Leon, who peered out at you curiously. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you called out timidly. God, it was like you were strangers again. “Um, can I come in?”

“S-sure.” He held the door open for you, as you took in your surroundings. It had been months since you’d last visited, but nothing much had changed.

“So… what can I do for you?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You weren’t used to this formal way of addressing each other. It gave you goosebumps.

“I thought it was only right to let you know,” you started. Your hands were trembling as you held out a thick white envelope towards Leon. “I-I got in.”

He took the envelope in his hands, frowning as he opened it. As he glanced over the papers, a spark of recognition shone in his eyes. “Oh! Uh-” He looked like he was at a loss for words as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. “Congratulations! I guess.”

“Thanks.” You nipped at your lip lightly, wondering if your next question would be appropriate. “Can I have a hug?”

For a fleeting instant, he looked like a deer in the headlights, but then he got a hold of himself. “Y-yeah.”

It took both of you a good minute to navigate your way into an embrace, so much so you nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. But once you were in each other’s arms, you relaxed, breathing in his familiar scent that you grew to love. “I missed this,” he sighed blissfully into your hair. You deepened the embrace, pulling him closer to you.

“I guess I should also tell you…” He pressed his lips to the side of your forehead as he spoke, “I’m heading to the police academy in Springfield.”

Your heart leapt out of joy and ached with melancholy at the same time. “That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, Leon.”

“Mm, you always know how to make me feel…” his words faded off as he broke away from your arms, but held your gaze, as if asking, “What now?”

Maybe this was your chance for the heart-to-heart that was long overdue. And you grabbed it with both hands.

“I was scared,” you started. “I didn’t know how it could work out with the distance, maybe even performing internationally…” After a brief pause, you revealed, “I thought you wanted the suburban dream.”

“When did I ever say that?” He blurted out, with a look of shock plastered across his face.

You flinched, realizing that he had a point. He never mentioned wanting that. These doubts you had appeared to stem from your own fears projected onto him. “I-I thought…” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“You could’ve asked me,” he replied, seemingly perturbed from the misunderstanding that occurred between the two of you. “I really wished we talked about this.”

Your eyes dropped to the ground, as you felt a heavy weight in your chest. “I’m sorry, I just assumed it was the case.” At this, he grasped his forehead in his hands and sighed wearily.

This was all so stupid. But you needed to tell him exactly how you felt about him, especially after this wake-up call. “Leon, hear me out, please? When I lost you, I realized I was so caught up with running as far away as I could from this place, that I didn’t see how important being with you was to me.”

You forced down a lump in your throat as you continued, “You never held me back, I was wrong to say that.”

“I want you,” you confessed. “Always have.”

You felt completely exposed, as if every part of you was laid bare and open to scrutiny. “I just had to let you know, even if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore.”

As you folded your arms to brace yourself for what would come next, Leon reached out and caressed your hair comfortingly. “I-” he paused. “If this is about Val, I’m sorry I did that,” he apologized. “I was hurt, and it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifted it to bring you within eye contact. “However, I need you to stop guessing what you think I might want,” he stated firmly. “I can make my own decisions, ok?”

As you nodded in agreement, his gaze softened, and he took you within his arms again, cradling your head against his chest. “And… you haven’t lost me, but I need some time.” He sighed. “This was all just-”

At that moment, you were interrupted by his mom, who’d made her way in from the living room. “Gosh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You and Leon let go of each other self-consciously, as she spontaneously invited you to dinner with the family that evening, which had just been freshly cooked and served out on the dining table. As you shared in the laughter and light-hearted conversations together, you couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope about your future with the boy sitting beside you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Prom night was coming up. At least that was what Kayla kept reminding you. You still had a few months to prepare, but for her it was the most important social event of high school. No one had asked you out yet, and Kayla felt that wouldn’t do. Secretly, you wished Leon would have made a move by now, but maybe things were still too raw.

As you emptied out your locker, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Spinning around, you brushed up against one of the footballers you had hardly spoken with during your school years. He must have noticed the bemusement on your face, as he spoke first, “Wanna go to the prom with me?”

From afar, you heard a distant giggle and narrowed your eyes at the source. Kayla’s sly grin gave it away. She set the whole thing up. Why?

You glanced between her and the beefy guy in front of you. Clearly not your type. At all. “Uh…” you tried to stall, wondering how you were going to maneuver your way out of this situation.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the side, snaking an arm around your waist, causing you to yelp in surprise. “She’s coming with me.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Hm, this was getting interesting. Talk about Mr Knight in Shining Armor to the rescue.

Leon turned to face you. “Am I right?”

“Y-yeah, I’d like-,” you paused to recollect yourself. “I’m going with you,” you confirmed with a hint of shyness.

The footballer backed off, raising his hands in the air as he excused himself clumsily. “Sorry man, my bad. I didn’t know she was taken.” Leon was giving him the stink eye all the way through.

“You trying to make me jealous, baby?”

Baby? You gulped. What the hell has gotten into him? You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But his arm was still resting on your waist with no intention of letting go anytime soon.

You saw Kayla shrug and dust her hands, before sashaying away. You had to hand it to her though. Fucking mastermind genius.

“Well, you never asked.”

“I did now,” he retorted smugly.

Ok, so you were back to bantering. Guess you could deal. But it still didn’t answer the question on where you stood with him. Had he finalized his thoughts since that talk you had?

“Leon,” you sighed. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to make things official?”

“Sorry about that. I was kinda put on the spot,” he admitted bashfully, as if he had been caught doing something wrong and now had a tail between his legs. 

“But yeah, I want to,” he professed. “Do you?” He stared at you, swallowing nervously. “I mean, would you like to be my, uh- girlfriend?”

You gave him a coy smile, copying one of his previous lines in response. “Sure, I suck at it. So why not?”

“Never know till you try.” He beamed in return, unable to conceal the sheer look of happiness on his face any longer. “Guess we can figure out the rest along the way.”

“Uh huh.” You glanced around, all of a sudden painfully aware that you both were having this conversation in full public view. Although the other students were pretending not to pay attention, you knew they had seen and overheard everything. 

A hot flush rose to your face. It didn’t seem to deter Leon as he tugged you closer with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You had an inkling of what was about to unfold, but you chose to embrace it.

“Let’s give them a show, shall we?” He smirked, and with that, his lips collided into yours, as you made out against the lockers, oblivious to the world around you.