#so october suddenly arrived

[breakfastteatime]

Sideways rain, ooooooooooooh.

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

[dawnscales]

At work today a guy asked where our travel guides are. I was carrying a bunch of things & on my way downstairs so I could only point with my elbow but basically "that door & then straight to the end of the room, my colleague is there if you need help"

that worked out fine but when i was back upstairs at the library & sat down to continue placing orders he asked again, or rather "I can't find the region I am looking for" & honestly our traveling guide section can be a lot. Also if you don't know that we put some places together, it gets even harder. He was looking for some maps about Bosnia so I showed him.

That's when he saw my star of David necklace & complimented it. I said thanks & got ready to return to my spot. All of a sudden, as I am already halfway across the floor, he yells "Oh & I need something else. I need books about the Nakba. You know what this is, right? The ongoing genocide committed by the Jewish people"

I told him I know what he means & if he could wait a moment. I told my co-worker to please take over as adviser for me, told him what the man is looking for & that we definitely have books about the topic.

It honestly was the right timing because my shift would end in 10 minutes & two girls needed help with books about a topic I just had training for so I knew I could help them real fast.

The man ignored my co-worker & proceeded to follow me, shouting. I informed him that I am currently helping other people & my co-worker can help, he is actually in charge of our history & politics section. I got a "I don't want him. I want your help. You know what is going on, don't you?"

It took me somewhat snapping & more rudely informing him that I am currently busy helping other people & getting a bit louder myself. It also took my co-worker putting his body between the guy & me for him to go quiet & then mutter "so you're fucking busy" & leaving.

This isn't okay. This is antisemitism. I do not wear a name tag that shows I have a name more commonly found in Israel. I do not speak with an accent - yes I grew up the first years of my life in Israel & I have dual citizenship. But he does not know that. All he saw was a visibly Jewish person.

My co-worker had me go to our office & informed me I could leave once he went through our library & made sure the guy wasn't outside. Like sincerely this is fucked up. I want to wear my Star of David, I want to be visibly Jewish. I don't want to put myself or my co-workers in danger.

I didn't realize how much this fucked me up until I arrived home, sat down & suddenly just cried.

EDIT 31.10.24: I want to say even if I was visibly Israeli, even if I wore the Israeli flag THIS WOULD NOT BE OKAY . I need people to know that I actually love my home country - I hate the government but I love the place - I have family there, October 7th was a horrific massacre & my family lost friends that day .

While we still lived in Israel my father often took me along to discussions between Israelis and Palestinians, I was raised to hope and believe in a two state solution in which both Palestinians and Israelis can live in safety and dignity. I still hope in that.

[itneverendshere]

baby girl being born and she doesn’t come out crying, rafe thinks his heart stops

i loved this request💓💓 and decided to make it even more precious by adding a tiny bit of this one: "for some reason i see this baby being born in November/october and you think it’s perfect for the holidays and rafes birthday hahahaha (i use drew’s birthday for his)". hope you like it!!🥰

half a heart without you - r.c

pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: child labor; mentions of death.

rafe sat on the the stiff hospital chair, bouncing his leg anxiously as the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room. the muffled voices of the nurses around him did nothing to soothe his panic. all he could focus on was you—the love of his life.

you lay in the hospital bed, breaths labored, your hand gripping his with a force he knew you’d later joke about. even through the sweat and exhaustion of labor, you were beautiful. your eyes moved towards him, and despite the pain etched into your face, you gave him an exhausted smile.

"it's almost time," the nurse announced, glancing between the monitors and her patient.

rafe squeezed your hand tighter, his heart hammering in his chest.

he should be excited—this was supposed to be the moment where everything changed, where the world became new. he had dreamt about your daughter for months, imagining what she’d look like, what kind of personality she’d have, how his life would revolve around her from the second she entered the world. 

he never thought of himself as someone who wanted to be a father—never thought he deserved it, but now he couldn’t imagine anything else. this baby girl was going to be his world. 

he adjusted his mask, trying to ignore the panic inside him, he had to put your first no matter what his head was screaming at him. "you doing okay, baby?" 

you shot him a look, disbelief and irritation crossing your face. "does it look like 'm okay, rafe?" you snapped between breaths, the hand that wasn’t cutting his circulation gripped the side of the bed with a force that made your knuckles turn white.

the change in humour would've blindsided him if he hadn't dealt with it throughout your pregnancy.

rafe winced, his lips twitching into an apologetic smile. "stupid question. sorry."

the nurse smiled from the other side of the room, used to seeing husbands or boyfriends fumbling in this exact situation. 

rafe, however, wasn’t going to stand back and just be in the way. he moved closer to your side.

“you’re doing great.” he whispered encouragingly leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “you’re so strong. stronger than me.”

the doctor glanced over at rafe, his expression calm but serious.

"we’re almost there. one more big push, and she'll be here."

he couldn’t believe this was happening. after months of anticipation, this was it—the moment their daughter would finally come to the world.

"one more push," he echoed to you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "you got this. ’m right here."

you let out a groan, squeezing his hand hard enough that rafe was sure his bones were grinding together. you took a breath before pushing with all your might, face contorting with the effort. rafe leaned forward, trying to offer what little comfort he could, but he felt useless.

your eyes flew open suddenly, and you glared at him almost desperately.

"you—" you panted, gasping between contractions, "you...fucked this baby out of me!"

his blue eyes went wide, mouth dropping open as he whipped his head around to look at the nurses and doctor, mortified. "she's—she's joking!" he blurted, his voice cracking as he felt his face heat up behind the mask, "swear she's joking!"

except you weren’t.

the nurse beside him smirked, while the doctor didn’t even flinch, calmly preparing for the baby’s arrival.

“completely normal,” the doctor said dryly, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “you wouldn’t believe the things we hear in here.”

rafe’s face burned, but when he looked back at you—his girl, red-faced and furious—he knew you were wacking him mentally for his stupid idea. 

before he could say anything else in his defense, the doctor’s tone changed as he gave the final instruction, and the nurse moved into position. “this is it,” he said, focused now. “big push.”

he was three seconds away from fainting embarrassingly on this hospital room floor. this was it. he was about to be a dad.

you gave one final, strained push, after hours of labor, a guttural scream tearing from your throat. and then—

your daughter was born, but the room went silent, there was no cry.

rafe's heart stopped.

his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the small form in the doctor’s hands. the tiny, pink-skinned baby wasn’t moving. she wasn’t making any sound.

“she’s not—” rafe choked out, but the panic was already settling in his body as he looked between the doctor, the nurses, and you.

you were watching, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as fear clouded your expression. his mind was screaming again, this time, a deafening roar of terror, and all he could think was why isn’t she crying? 

he could hear nothing, see nothing, except for the small, seemingly lifeless body in front of him. he felt numb, paralyzed.

but then he saw you—his rock—and you looked utterly shattered. the panic in your eyes was immediate, your face void of any color as you stared at the nurses working on your baby.

without thinking, he grabbed your cheeks, his hands framing your face as he forced you to look at him, not the nurses, not the baby.

just him.

“rafe,” you choked out, voice already raspy with sobs. tears filled your eyes, your entire body trembling under his hands.

“i know, baby,” he whispered, as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours, trying to keep you distracted. “keep your eyes on me. it’s gonna be okay. look at me, just look at me.”

you were already crying, tears mixing with the sweat on your face.

you gripped his wrists like he was the only thing keeping you sane, your breath coming in broken gasps. “rafe—” your sob was gut-wrenching as your eyes flicked toward the nurses again.

“hey,” he pulled you in again, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, wiping away the tears. he kissed your temple, holding you close as he kept his voice calm for your sake, even as his own heart felt like it was breaking. “she’s gonna be okay. i promise. she’s strong, just like you. just stay with me, baby, okay?”

you let out another sob, burying your face into his chest as he held you tighter. 

he felt you shake in his arms and he wanted to fall apart too—wanted to break down and scream, to beg for their baby to be okay—but he couldn’t. so instead he pressed kiss after kiss to your temple, murmuring reassurances he wasn’t even sure he believed.

“it’s gonna be okay. she’s okay.”

the truth was, rafe wasn’t sure of anything and he didn’t know how long he could keep it together. but then—just as the panic threatened to consume him whole—a fragile cry pierced the air.

rafe’s breath caught in his throat, his whole body freezing with the sound. he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing in relief.

she was okay. she was here. she was okay.

the nurse, smiling now, wrapped your baby girl in a soft blanket and gently placed her on your chest. the sudden change from fear to overwhelming love hit him like a bullet, and all he could do was stare as you, still crying, reaching out to cradle your newborn daughter.

his hands dropped from your face, and he stepped back just slightly, his eyes glued to the sight of his daughter lying on you, tiny and perfect.

“she’s okay,” you mumbled to yourself like you still needed to believe it. your eyes were full of tears, hands still trembling as you gently stroked the baby’s head. “she’s okay.”

rafe felt his knees go weak with relief, his heart swelling as he leaned down, kissing your forehead, then brushing a kiss against the baby’s tiny head.

“she’s perfect,” he breathed out, voice still hoarse as he finally let his tears fall. he pressed his lips to your hair, breathing you in. “autumn,” he said softly, the name slipping out without hesitation. “born right in time for the holidays. just like we wanted.”

you looked up at him, cheeks still glistening with tears, and you smiled. a genuine smile, despite everything. “autumn cameron.”

rafe grinned through his tears, his hand gently resting on your daughter’s back.

“yeah,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “autumn cameron.”

he knew that no matter what happened in life, this—this—was everything.

[onlyhereforthestories]

What's Spooky Season Without Jump Scares (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Happy Halloween guys! I hope you enjoy this little fic, I'm sad spooky season is over for another year. Next up for me is Chica 👀 stay tuned.

Alexia was used to the calm, steady version of you. The one that only spoke when necessary, who focused intensely on training and barely cracked a smile, except for when you were alone together or with your families. You were always a little softer then. So, when the calendar flipped to October, she wasn’t expecting the sudden shift. It wasn’t like it was your first Halloween season together, no you had been together for 3 years now, but this was the first one in your now shared apartment. Something that had you buzzing with excitement for what the month might bring.

The apartment was still mostly quiet, but a new energy had settled in, you were planning something.

Alexia was chopping vegetables for dinner, humming a tune under her breath, completely unaware of the fact that you had been sneaking around the apartment, plotting your first Halloween scare. You moved silently, pulling a black hoodie over your head, the hood obscuring your face. You’d painted your face hastily with white and black makeup, mimicking the look of a ghostly skeleton, but the effect was more comedic than terrifying.

As Alexia diced the carrots, you crept up behind her. You didn’t say a word at first, just let the eerie silence do the work for you. Then, in your deepest, most unnatural voice, you whispered, “Alexiaaaa...”

Her shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, you saw her pause. Then she turned, knife still in hand, her eyes wide and alert.

You stood there, hands raised in a mock zombie pose, and shouted, “BOO!”

She flinched, but the startled look in her eyes quickly melted into annoyance. “¡Joder! What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, her face flushed with surprise, though there was the tiniest hint of a smile playing at her lips.

You dropped the act, giggling like a child, completely unlike your usual self. “Come on, admit it. I got you!”

She stared at you, shaking her head with mock disapproval and rolling her eyes as she spoke. “You're ridiculous. And I could have hurt you, I have a knife in my hand idiota.”

You stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Ridiculously good at jump scaring, you mean.”

Alexia gave a long drown out sigh, but you could see the amusement in her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of October with you.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more planned,” you teased, winking at her. “Just you wait.”

---

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the Barcelona girls were gathered on the training pitch, doing their usual warm-ups. You and Alexia had arrived together, but everyone was focused on their stretches and drills. What they didn’t know was that you had a new prank up your sleeve, and Alexia, although playing innocent, was completely aware.

You had spent the night before gathering the perfect prank materials: fake spiders, a small wireless speaker, and a creepy mask that you knew would send a few hearts racing.

As the team gathered for tactical drills, you casually slipped the speaker into one of the benches near where Patri and Mapi were chatting, adjusting their socks and discussing their latest match. You gave Alexia a sly nod as she jogged by, and she gave you a quick wink, pretending not to know what was coming.

You crouched behind one of the equipment carts, pressing play on your phone. From the speaker came a low, eerie growl followed by a ghostly moan.

Mapi immediately looked up, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

Patri turned her head, puzzled. “What the…?”

Suddenly, you popped out from behind the cart, wearing the creepy mask, a grotesque, zombie-like face. You lunged toward them with a guttural scream, arms flailing wildly.

Patri yelped, practically jumping out of her boots, while Mapi’s eyes widened in shock. “¡Dios mío!” Mapi shouted, stumbling backward and tripping over her own feet.

The rest of the team erupted into laughter, even Alexia couldn’t hold back, bending over as she chuckled at her teammates’ reactions.

Patri’s face flushed with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. “¡No tienes vergüenza! I’m going to kill you!”

You laughed, pulling the mask off and shaking your head. “It’s Halloween! Lighten up!”

Mapi, still catching her breath, pointed at you accusingly. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

Just as the girls were recovering, you reached into your pocket and threw a handful of fake spiders at them, causing a fresh wave of screams. Even Pina, who was nearby, shrieked as one of the rubber spiders landed on her shoulder.

Alexia jogged over, still laughing. “I think you’re going to get banned from training at this rate.”

You grinned at her. “Oh, come on. You have to admit, it’s kind of fun.”

Alexia shook her head, but her smile gave her away. “Alright, alright. But if you scare me again...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If?”

Alexia shot you a playful glare. “*When* you scare me again, I’m getting revenge.”

---

As October marched on, your love for Halloween grew more intense. Decorations appeared in every corner of your shared apartment. There were fake cobwebs draped over the shelves, plastic skeletons hanging from the bathroom door, and pumpkins placed strategically on the window ledges. Alexia, though amused by your enthusiasm, was also slightly wary. Every room had become a potential jump-scare zone.

One night, after a long day of training and some light teasing from the girls, Alexia entered the apartment, her guard up. She flipped on the lights and scanned the hallway, expecting you to pop out from behind the door at any moment. You had been home for about an hour due to her having a captains meeting after training. But there was nothing. Just an eerie silence and the usual orange glow from the Halloween lights. Maybe you were finally giving her a break after the almost daily small jump scares she had been having this month.

She walked toward the bedroom, her body slowly relaxing as she reached for the door handle. Suddenly, the door creaked open just a crack, on its own.

Alexia froze. “You’re not getting me this time.”

The hallway light flickered for a split second, and that’s when she saw it, a dark figure standing just inside the door, its eyes glowing red.

“¡Por el amor de Dios!” she shouted, stumbling back as you emerged from the shadows, your glowing-eyed ghoul costume in full effect.

You burst into laughter, the fake eyes you’d attached to your mask bouncing slightly as you doubled over. “I can’t believe I actually got you again!”

Alexia glared at you, though a smile was fighting to break through. “I thought you were done with the scares.”

You shrugged, removing the mask and setting it down on the table. “Halloween’s not over yet.”

She sighed dramatically. “One more. One more scare, and I’m hiding your costumes.”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “You love it.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, and she pulled you into a hug, your body warm against hers. “Maybe just a little.”

---

Halloween finally arrived, and the apartment looked like something straight out of a haunted house. You had decorated every inch of the place, from flickering candles to eerie sound effects playing on a loop. Alexia, though initially resistant, had gradually started to enjoy the spooky atmosphere. She even helped carve the pumpkin that sat proudly on the kitchen counter, though she complained the entire time about how messy it was.

That night, the two of you settled in on the couch, surrounded by snacks and the soft glow of your spooky décor. The jump scares had eased up, well mostly. You promised to go easy on her tonight, she had suffered through pretty much a whole month of your antics.  

As you cuddled under a blanket, Alexia leaned back against you, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she said softly, “I wasn’t sure I was going to survive your Halloween obsession this month.”

You chuckled, squeezing her a little tighter. “I know I went a little overboard.”

“A little?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Okay, maybe a lot.” You leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “But you survived. And look at you now, I have you enjoying Halloween like a pro.”

Alexia smiled, her eyes glancing around the decorated room. “I guess I did. Maybe next year, we can make it even bigger.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger?”

Alexia’s smile turned wicked. “Oh, yeah. But next year, *I’m* planning the scares.”

You laughed, but there was a flicker of nervousness in your voice. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

She just grinned, settling back into your arms as the Halloween movie played in the background. Whatever the future held, you knew that this spooky tradition was now something the two of you would share, year after year. The girls better watch out next spooky season that was for sure.

[mandukkul]

LOVE BETWEEN TWO — n.rk

synopsis: you and riki have different ways of seeing love but, in the end, you'll always know who you'll end up with.

or

moments building up before the first i love you

tags: childhood friends to lovers, non!idollau, neighbour!riki x f! reader, FLUFF!!!, only fluff and comfort :)

warning: proofread but might have some spelling + grammar errors

wordcount: 4.5k

published: 3rd october, 2024

authors note: this oneshot acts as a thankyou for all the followers and love i get!! i’m so sorry for not being more active :( BUT i completed this! and i just want to say THANK YOU FOR 1000!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WHOLE!!! as much as riki loves you! and as much as we love riki :)

reblogs + comments appreciated

Act 1: loving 

Riki had never understood love – that is, until he met you. He knew he loved many things, like dance, and his family and friends, but if you had asked him if he knew what love meant, he would have buffered like a 2000s-era computer. Of course, Riki knew what love was; he had watched it in K-dramas and had seen it rendered in manga. By their definition, love was hard. Love was hard and difficult and full of miscommunication, but also, love was soft and kind and offered the sweetest touches to one's heart that anyone could ask for.

Love was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

He then concluded, after the piles of pirated manga and dramas he had accumulated over his 17 years of boyhood, that love was simply you. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand that; he knew if it wasn’t you, then no one was going to fit that definition of love for him. Riki didn’t fully understand love, but he understood you – how he felt about you. You, in all your beautiful glory. Love was your touch, your smile, your laugh. Love was what he looked forward to every day.

You were truly the only exception to his dilemma of love, because with you, love came so easily. Love was just like breathing – it was so effortless when it came to you. Love for you felt like rain kissing his cheeks in humid summers, like snow tickling his nose during winter, like an autumn leaf falling on his head in the fall, like cherry blossoms blooming when spring arrived.

Love for you felt like nature, like it was natural. He was sure he had been born to love you, inside and out. From the moment he had met you at the age of 4, when you were dressed in stained patchwork overalls, obviously from playing in the dirt; your hair tied in uneven pigtails because you had just had to tie them yourself. Your hands clasped some wilted old flowers he had passed while walking Bisco; you had offered them to him as a greeting gift with that cute little grin of yours.

“Hello! Want to be my best friend?”

Four-year-old Riki didn’t know it just yet, though he did have an inkling, but he would be head over heels for the girl in front of him for the rest of his life.

He had stared at the flowers in your hand, weak and slouchy in posture. He looked back up at you and didn’t have the heart to tell you that those flowers were the exact ones Bisco had decided to relieve herself on. So, he took those piss-stained flowers and nodded his head with as much agreement as his little body could give.

At the ripe age of 18, as he watched you from across his window, peering into your room, where you haphazardly flopped onto your bed with exhaustion despite only hanging out in his room all day. He could just tell you had screamed into your bed by the way you flailed around at the edge. He watched you suddenly stop, as if you had run out of battery, flip over to your back, and lay still for a while longer.

He loved you.

You could sense him staring at you, with your strangely acquired Riki-sense. You lifted your head to confirm your theory, and there he was, leaning against the window frame staring into your room. His eyes lay still on the object that was yourself, and he was filled with so much adoration, so much love, so much bliss at even the sight of you.

And yet, you scoffed at his blatant staring, feeling his chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul like the Ghost Rider from the movies. Of course, he had that stupid love-stricken look, and of course, he was already waiting for you to stare back.

Love for you had meant many things – too many things to quite pinpoint the right meaning. As you grew up, you learnt more about love than loss, and hence, you learnt that love hurts.

Love was like the humidity in summer, where the air was too thick, and the wind stuck to your skin; love was like the dullness of autumn, where the wind was cold and brisk but not enough to complain about – just enough to be irritable; love was like winter, where it got so cold you couldn’t even feel your face anymore, the season of sickness and disease that forced you to remain indoors and watch the sky cry frozen tears; love was like spring, when hay fever was at its worst, staining your cheeks with unintentional tears and a stuffy nose.

Love was hard. Love was difficult. Love was confusing.

You remembered every single time something you had loved got lost. The very first time was when the friendship bracelet Riki had made you when you were 5, decorated with mismatched charms and trinkets, disappeared one day when you went to the park. The nights you had spent crying didn’t outweigh the nights 5-year-old Riki had spent consoling and reassuring you that he’d make another one – a better one. But 5-year-old you knew the sentiment that was put into that very first bracelet, the one made without obligation to be replaced.

You remembered wailing about how it wouldn’t be the same, that Riki would have the very first bracelet, and you’d have a stupid second version because you had been careless. Then, you remembered the sound of beads crashing onto the ground, scattering anywhere and everywhere. You were scared you’d slip and crash despite being a giant compared to a measly bead.

“Now I’ll make two new ones so we’ll both be the same again.”

You couldn’t recall a more romantic and pleasant memory, where Riki had been so genuine and cute, so willing to give up something that was his to meet your happiness.

Five-year-old Riki really had you wrapped around his finger from that day on.

Despite your own volition, your heart bloomed and blistered, so full of him. It beat to the spelling of his name (in Morse code), and you couldn’t help but pull the threatening smile down into the scowl you attempted to display.

Like clockwork, your eyes locked with the same amount of love and willingness that you gave yourself credit for. You crawled towards your window and lifted it open so you could talk to him again as if the past 12 hours hadn’t occurred.

He was waiting for you, gazing like the stars had blessed his presence – graced his very being with the holiness that was you.

You had to force yourself to calm the oh-so-obvious flush of your cheeks, putting it down to hike up to your room as the reason for your sudden flare-up.

“Aren’t you tired of looking at me all day?” you remarked, and he was so quick with his reply, “I could never get tired of looking at you.”

Him and his flirty personality. You didn’t remember where he had gotten it from, or how he had developed it. You’d grown up with him all your life, and that part of his personality was still an anomaly.

You let a scoff out, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, blatantly ignoring the ache in your cheeks that you refused to surrender to his love.

“It’s not like I’ll disappear if you blink, relax,” but Riki had never been more relaxed than when he was looking at you. Not just the plain stares he gave during his maths classes, or at the dinner table, or even when he stared at his home screen that was so obnoxiously filled with you, but the type that showed interest, that showed he was immersed, devoured, totally consumed by whatever had his attention.

He liked to think he had found the perfect balance of clinginess and distance but still unknowingly leaned towards pulling you in.

“Most girls would love it if I stared at them,” he had said.

He was right. Nearly every girl at school would have sold an arm and a leg just for the boy to even look in their direction. If you weren’t you, you would have cherished and felt blessed to even have the Nishimura Riki in your presence.

But you were you, and you had grown up with this annoying brat all your life. Even if he could be sweet and sensitive at times, or when he tried to show you he was more man than boy, he was still Riki: your first friend, your best friend, and your first love.

Besides, someone had to keep his beautiful ass humbled, or else he would have resorted to those once-targeted alpha male Andrew Tate ads.

“To be honest, I find it a bit creepy,” you had snickered to yourself as he pouted at your response.

Those cute lips of his.

You had always known how to bring his rising ego down, one way or another.

With your smart and witty remarks, you anchored him just enough so he didn’t fly away and drift into the realm of egoism.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fine. I’ll stop looking at you,” he had declared, but his eyes betrayed his words, and his gaze never, not once, pulled away. He had one eye open now, tilting his head away but still, ever so slightly, gazing upon the beauty that you emitted.

And you were still looking. Of course, you were; of course, you would.

You never took your eyes off him because he was just so cute, and his attempt to one-up you in snark was quite endearing.

“Good luck with that,” you had laughed, leaning onto your palm as you watched him sigh in defeat, but not before he caught your own gaze on him.

“Oooh, why are you looking at me like that?” he had prompted, leaning over his window to be closer to you. “Do you think I’m cute?” he wriggled his eyebrows ever so playfully, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“No,” you had deadpanned, dropping your palm down to the frame. He pouted again, more pouty than usual, pulling a frown.

He whined with one of those annoying squeals, something you had grown used to over the years of knowing him. “My girlfriends are so mean to me,” he had said, frowning with his eyebrows pinching and lips pouting. You couldn’t help the small pull of your lips, seeing how comical he was being.

For a split second, you had lingered on his words. “My girlfriend,” he had said with so much pride. “My girlfriend” was all you really heard because he was calling you his girlfriend like it was your name, like it was a prize, a gift, a blessing. “My girlfriend” sounded like honey-laced praises.

He had feigned a gasp at the sight of you trying to hide your smile, and then you had burst into giggles because, of course, you revelled in his misery. But it was okay because the sound of your laughter, that joyous giggle, had erupted because of him, and that was more than enough to subside the little bits of bullying you always seemed to aim at him.

His heart beat along with the rhythm of your laugh.

It was late, and the stars had been watching your tales unfold.

Of a girl whose love yearned and pined, reaching the moon and kissing the ocean. Whose love was kept sacred and scarce, and yet, a love that was sought after, searching for love like hers. One that treasured and was kept safe, a love made of steel but soft like wool. A love that comforted.

And of a boy who loved like no other, so full and so rich. Whose love poured like the rain kissing the ground – endless and fulfilling. A love so abundant, it counted for the world.

There was so much love, too much. It was overbearing, consuming, and it was eating you both alive.

It was overwhelming.

“Hey.”

Your name had left his mouth like honey.

The silence of the gap between your two homes became deafening. Your laugh had slowly died, and your attention had glued onto him alone.

It was now or never.

Riki had known that love was you. He had known that the moment his eyes met yours, his definition had been filled in an instant.

He knew, he had loved – no, he loved you.

His second pause after the call had been enough to erupt a yawn from your lips, ever so slightly slipping past your perfectly shaped lips.

“You should get to bed,” he had said, but the lovesick gaze that you were too tired to catch said everything.

You had fought the urge to ask him what he was really thinking. You were tired, but you knew Riki – your Riki. You knew how his eyebrows pinched a certain way when he contemplated, only further accentuated when he hesitated.

You had his entire face burned into your mind, and your heart.

But for tonight, you had let him and his burning thoughts wait as you slightly nodded.

“I’m not gonna wake you up this time,” you replied, smiling ever so slightly.

You had left your window open, as you always did. Your window to his – it was like you were always together, connected through a fated string that crossed from one pane to the other.

…

Act 2: between 

You had grown to find joy within nothingness—or so you told yourself.

All your life, you had searched for things to put meaning into. Simple commodities that resembled fractions of joy you attempted to keep. As a child, you had never pondered trivial things that would be impossible to find answers to.

You loved the definite, the certain, the things you knew you could hold close to your heart and never let go. Like the grudge you held for the boy who had bullied Riki when he was nine—too fiery of emotions for little you to experience. Your little face had burned red with anger, fists balled and shaking with rage. There had been no stopping nine-year-old you from unleashing divine fury upon the bully. Or like the childhood bracelet Riki made when you were kids, which you had sworn never to remove despite the horrendous combination of charms. A symbol of your eternal friendship.

As you stuffed your locker with yet another textbook you barely cared about, you heard cheers echo against the walls, ricocheting straight into your ears. The stampede of footsteps seemed to hurdle past you, racing toward an unknown presence from across the hall.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who that presence was. Of course you did. You couldn’t ignore it, not when his fiery gaze burned holes into the back of your head.

You subtly looked over your shoulder, and there he was, in his glorious seven-foot-something stature. You saw how all the girls crowding him seemed to be trying to attract his attention, calling for his name, asking him silly, mundane questions. Anything just for a simple glance, but all Riki could do was stare at you like you were a lost treasure he had just discovered.

His gaze alone spoke a thousand words.

"I wish I could hold you."

"Your hand is mine."

"I want you."

"I need you."

"I miss you."

Those were more your feelings than what you thought his gaze said, but you had an inkling he felt the same way.

In the space between you, from metres away across the hall, you couldn’t help but feel so full of him—him and his love. He was saying nothing, yet the whole world went deaf in his presence.

You could see, miraculously through the heart-eyed girls, how he fidgeted with the little torn hem at the bottom of his shirt, remembering how you had been the culprit for that "measly" (his words, not yours) tear.

You watched as he scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to be as polite as a boy could be when rejecting a starry-eyed girl. They gave him chocolate-covered strawberries—though you knew he’d only eat them if they were microwaved despite your protests—and little love letters he would never end up reading, also despite your pitied protests.

All you wanted to do was pull him out of the crowd of crazed girls, to scream that he was yours—despite often telling him that you weren’t an object and shouldn’t be defined as "mine." Maybe it was jealousy that rippled through your blood, burning with a touch of yearning because, of course, you yearned for him. Every second of the day.

You yearned for his touch, his words, his silence.

Despite your many reluctances to say so, you were so deeply infatuated with Riki, you might as well have sprawled it across your forehead. Every distant look, light feathery touch, gentle breath that brushed against the shell of your ear. Everything he did, you clung to like a hoarder. A stupid, love-stricken hoarder. Every thought of yours was consumed by him, captivated by his every essence. Feminists before you would have shaken their heads, disappointed by how much you thought of Riki.

Frankly, you were too smitten with your dear ol’ boyfriend, even if he claimed you didn’t show enough affection to him.

Maybe it was for the best, as your gazes left each other like strangers with a fleeting glance. Similarly to last night, there was an invisible wall separating the two of you, tension threatening to crack under the pressure.

Riki was still being bombarded by love-sick girls, his longing gaze shifting into more of a plea as he watched you with all the free space he was supposed to take up.

You ignored his plea, of course, turning back around and into your locker. You would speak to him later anyway—it’s what he gets for making you late this morning (you had waited for him, as you always did).

…

Act 3: two

The two of you sit in the silence of your room for a change. The curtains of your window that peer into his room are pulled shut, dimming the space enough that you can only tell his expressions if you’re inches away from each other.

Which you are.

Riki insisted on staying over this time, wanting to leave the musk of his room for once. But really, he misses the sight of your walls.

Plastered across from him are pictures of friends and family, some of him and your shared friend group, others of his sisters and you. He thinks to himself how you have a knack for interior design, pleased with the way you showcase your love through photographs.

You say it eternalises the memories, so even when you’re both old and rotten to match your insides, you’ll always have the days of your youth.

And there’s a little flutter in his stomach when he thinks back to this memory because you said “both.” He loves that you see him forever entangled in your life.

Riki watches you doom-scroll on that godforsaken bird app. He likes to believe he’s got all your micro-expressions down—like the slight twitch of irritation in your eyebrow, the lift at the corner of your lip when you see something funny, or the scrunch of your nose when you see a resurfaced video of Nikocado Avocado.

Riki doesn’t spend half as much time on his education as he does staring at you. You’re awfully beautiful in your (his) shirt and dirty sweatpants. You’ve never bothered putting effort into your appearance when you’re in the comfort of your (or his) room, having known him far too long to care if he thinks your shirt smells like perpetual instant ramen.

His eyes travel from your appearance back to your face, and he just loves you. Loves sitting next to you. Loves seeing your face.Loves your appearance. Loves your personality. Loves that you're the opposite of a breath of fresh air—you’re comforted in his old, musty room.

Because even if he and you were stuck back in his room, you’d never change. You’re constant.

He loves the way your voice drops when you sense your tone’s shifted higher when talking to him, saying you’ll never be caught speaking to him with a babied voice. He loves how you deny his obvious affection for you—behind closed doors, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He loves your loudness, your quietness, your happiness, your silence.

He loves you.

He’s going to say it.

As he stares at you, yearning for you, you pretend not to notice the burning gaze of your lover. Twitter lost your attention long ago—the nth tweet about yet another scandal circling the app. Instead, you focus on your breathing. With how wild your heart’s beating, the best you can do is control how you breathe—ensuring you don’t fold in front of the lovely boy cuddled up next to you.

If Riki really knew how much you adored him—his hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, him—you’d never hear the end of it.

In truth, you’re simply enamoured with him. You love him. Everything about him. Years of girlhood wasted on a beautiful and sweet boy. Girlhood never prepares you for how to love a boy so lovely, so perfect. You think about how there have only been a few moments in your life where you’ve felt nothing but bliss.

Childhood was easy; ever since that fateful day where you picked a bunch of piss-covered flowers, you had no worries other than befriending the awkward little boy next door.

You’ll be sure to thank your parents’ boss for the move.

Teenhood, not so much; it’s riddled with an array of angst and anxiety. It’s a surprise you’re not imploding from the assignment you’ve been procrastinating or having a philosophical crisis like “what is love?”. But no, teenhood, albeit filled with plenty of anger and sorrow, has its fair share of wonderful moments.

Like right now, sitting in the comfort of your room—for a change. You’ve spent time imagining how your life would unravel, always with him in it, and how it ended up. The pictures plastered across the room aren’t just for show—they’re evidence that you’re happy.

Blissful.

Without Riki, you wouldn’t know what bliss is. Feeling nothing but pure and utter love.

He’s everything perfect about love.

And of course, you’ve said “I love you” plenty of times—80% of those times were when you were just kids. But that was when you were just friends. A silly phrase, really, because if you ask anyone who’s known you two since you were kids, they’d say you guys got married at the ripe age of seven with grass-bladed rings and flower crowns, with any passing animal as witness to your youthful marriage.

But now you’re dating—the dreaded boyfriend-girlfriend status. Nothing’s really changed in your relationship. Riki remains full of love and charisma, his attitude never wavering because, as he puts it, he’s known you were “the one” since you handed him those dirty flowers. You’ve remained witty and lovely as always, retaining the same spunk you had as a kid. The only two differences (soon to be one) are that your status has changed from friends to dating, and you’ve yet to say those three words, eight letters.

The phone that sits in your loose grip almost slips out, clearly losing its purpose of mindless distraction. To your dismay, Riki catches sight of your fumble, noting that you haven’t scrolled in seven minutes.

“Did my shameless staring finally catch your attention?”

He’s shameless, alright.

You drop your phone, staring deep into his dreamy eyes. You remain silent, but your expression tells him everything.

Despite the pull of your eyebrows and the purse of your lips, you love him.

“Say… what’s one thing you love about me?” he prompts, ready to finally tell you those long-awaited words. He’s thought it all out—how he’d list everything he loves about you, like he’s about to write your biography. He’s been dreaming of this moment since you started dating.

You think thoughtfully, like you’re scrounging your brain for an answer, leaving the silence in the room to deafen him with anticipation.

“Hey! Stop thinking so much!” Riki exclaims, offended that you’ve taken more than three seconds to answer, while his response would take 0.003 milliseconds (at least in his mind).

You let out a playful giggle, something you gave up trying to hide long ago. “I’m kidding,” you say, smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he mocks you in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

You love many things about him, too many to count. You simply love everything about him, like a reflex you can’t control.

“I love it when you’re silent.”

Riki visibly deflates, a slight frown ghosting his plump lips. His eyebrows pinch into a “what the hell” kind of expression, and his nose scrunches cutely at your words.

But you smile knowingly, taking in his sudden silence. You tune into the stillness of the room.

A rapid heartbeat.

“If you hate talking to me, just sa—”

“Because even when you’re quiet,” you interrupt, stretching your hand out to gently caress his hair, “you’re the loudest in the room.”

Your hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek, and Riki—the ever entranced—instinctively leans into your touch.

“Because you can just look at me, and I hear everything I need to hear.”

Your words are soft, gentle, and Riki swallows the lump in his throat that he hadn’t realised had formed. He stares deeply into your eyes—a different kind of stare than before.

Normally tender and kind, full of unspoken words of love. Now, all you see is devotion.

Riki focuses on the silence you’ve created, tuning into the nothingness that you said you loved about him.

And he thinks he can hear it, the silence.

It’s so loud, it bounces off the walls, pounding in his heart—even you can hear it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What do you hear?” He pulls you closer, your lips hovering above his, so close he can feel your breath.

“I hear ‘I love you.’ ”

Your lips mould against his before he can respond, but something tells him that you know. And besides, he has a lifetime's worth of “I love yous”— he’ll let you have this one.

author's note pt.2: its been more than a year since i made this wip and i finally finished it LOLLL it took me so longggg ANDDD i feel like its a bit lackluster in the second act... ENJOY THOUGH. i love the the ending

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Ghosted

Jazz had been pacing back and forth in her apartment, managing to stop herself from ripping out her hair through sheer willpower. He was meant to have arrived nearly four hours ago and he still wasn’t answering his phone.

“It’s fine,” she told herself, “maybe his phone battery is just dead. Or it could be broken? His brothers can be rowdy.”

Jazz took a deep breath through the mouth, and out through the nose. She smoothed put the wrinkles in her clothes as best she could before sitting herself down on the edge of the couch. And just as she sat down her phone buzzed to life in her hand.

Quicker than her dad could say ‘GHOST’ Jazz whipped out her phone and answered.

“Hello? Where are you? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve be-”

“Woah! Jazz! Slow down!” Danny’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Uh, I’m at home and I don’t know why you’d be worried. I haven’t done anything worthy of your concern. Revelry.” He added that last part quietly.

Jazz sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry Danny, I thought you were-” she sighed again, “doesn’t matter. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Are you alright Jazz?”

“I’m okay. Just…” she slumped back in her seat, playing with a lose threat on the arm rest before she continued, “got stood up.” She admitted. They told each other everything, Jazz and Danny did. They didn’t keep secrets from one another anymore, which was why she felt so comfortable sharing the troubles in her live life with him.

Jazz and Danny had become so close during their teen years when Danny was still figuring everything out with himself. And Jazz? Jazz had tired to be there for him as best she could. Somewhere between helping Danny and studying and taking care of the house when their parents were too absorbed in their work, Jazz had completely forgotten about herself. What else was there besides school, and Danny? Jazz hadn’t allowed herself to go in dates, not after the incident with Johnny and the chaos with the GIW. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her brother’s secret. Couldn’t risk whoever it was she was seeing. Couldn’t risk herself.

And when Jazz had first moved to Gotham it had been Danny who had encouraged her to make actual friends, friend who weren’t her teachers. He had even encouraged her to try dating. Put herself out there and find Mr Right. She’d been sceptical at first, but after a while she’d relented. Because she couldn’t keep putting her own wants last.

And she wanted a partner. Someone who would care for her just as she would care for them. So she’d done it. She’d gone out on dates and met new people.

And then she met him.

He was handsome, charming, and witty. Jazz wouldn’t describe herself as the swooning type, but when she had looked into his eyes she had felt her knees buckle. And they evidentially had buckled, sending her tumbling forward. But he’d caught her and laughed out, “Falling for me already I see?”

After that, they’d just clicked. They’d gone out several times already, and Jazz had thought they’d always had a good time. But recently he’d been cancelling their dates, usually with an excuse about work or family commitments. At first she’d brushed it off, she understood that people’s lives could be hectic and unpredictable. But he’d been cancelling so often now, and a few times he wouldn’t answer his phone. But never for this long. Not without ringing her back to let her know he was alright.

Jazz had almost forgotten about Danny on the other end of the phone until he’s said, “Ghosted? In October? How festive.” That had gotten a chocked laugh from Jazz who was shaking her head with a feeling of fond amusement. Trust Danny to make a joke like that.

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

halloween party (noah sebastian x reader)

18+, mdni, nsfw, Ghostface and Halloween-themed

It is October 31st, meaning it is both Halloween and my room mate Noah’s birthday. Every year we celebrate it at the same time, along with me, the rest of the band and some other friends and crew-members.

I start to get ready, and I had decided I wanted to be an attractive vampire this year for Halloween. I wear a fancy white blouse with a black leather corset on top, with rose detailed designs on it, making it look chic like and perfect for the costume. Underneath that I wear a short leather skirt, black thin tights and long, warm black socks for over my matching leather boots, detailed with spikes and chains. My black hair is styled a bit messy and my make up is dark with red, matching with the blood colored lipstick on my lips, that I smug a bit on the edges. When I look at the reflection of the mirror, I look satisfied and am ready for the party.

When I leave my room to head downstairs, I hear Noah's door open and close, making me smile in excitement.

“Hey birthday guy—“

I want to greet him, but as soon as I see what he is dressed up this year, which is Ghostface, I am stuck in my tracks. My lips part as I slightly swallow, my eyes taking in Noah, feeling my cheeks slowly flush. No way he is dressed up as Ghostface, my all time favorite horror character, someone I secretly swoon about sometimes, since I might… have a thing for masks.

Noah clearly notices me eyeing him up and down, as he then amusingly asks, “Like what you see, y/n?” His voice is a bit muffled by the mask.

“Eh, yeah, you—you look very cool as Ghostface,” I stumble, swallowing once again, quickly tucking strands of hair behind my ear as I then move past him, downstairs down to the kitchen, making me suddenly very aware how short my skirt is again as I move.

He follows me down to the kitchen, feeling his stare burning behind me, feeling like it's completely taking me in, making me heat up even more.

“When will the others arrive again?” I then ask once we are in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of our fridge and taking some quick gulps. Our kitchen and living room is decorated and in the Halloween spirit, something I loved to do for Noah since I love both decorating and Halloween.

Noah stands next to me, and I notice a slight smile present on his face under the mask by the bright lights in the kitchen, looking around at my decorations as well. “You have outdid yourself this year once again,” he comments, before remembering my question. “They should be here in like 20 minutes.”

I smile up at him, appreciating his compliment. “Thank you, always try my best.”

I turn to put the bottle back into the fridge, and when I then turn back around to Noah again, his mask is off, revealing his messy hair that is slightly pulled back, and in combination with the gloves and robe he is wearing I almost choke in my own breath.

“Jesus Christ,” I then mumble underneath my breath as a I move myself to the couch before I can embarass myself even more.

Noah and I have been roommates for a year now, being kind enough to rent and share his space with me, and if I’m being honest I have found him attractive from the start. But since we became good friends and he is mostly away on the road with his band, I decided to let the possibility of something more blooming between us go.

Noah lets out a low chuckle as he notices me looking flustered as he sits down right beside me, clearly being very much aware of the effect he has on me. “You okay?” he asks, a slight smile on his face as he tilts his head at me.

“Yeah,” I mumble, as I then watch him for a moment, my eyes ranking down to his costume again. “I can imagine that being warm inside,” I then nod to his outfit, flushing once again, so I quickly flick my eyes down to my lap. Damn, I hate being so flustered so fucking easily—I shouldn’t and I know that it’s wrong, but he looks even ten times hotter with that damn costume on.

He raises an eyebrow at my comment. “You’re not wrong,” he shrugs, before he lets his eyes move down to my outfit as well.

“I can imagine yours is a bit heavy as well,” he then comments, his eyes raking over my corset.

“Oh, it's okay,” I shrug with a sheepish smile, looking down at my white blouse and corset on top. “There’s a chance that I’ll take the blouse from underneath the corset off later this evening though, since the house will be pretty crowded and stuff.”

Noah nods slowly at my statement, the image seeming to flash before his eyes for a moment. “Maybe I should take my robe off for the same reason,” he then jokingly comments, winking in my direction, before he gets up from the couch again, heading to the kitchen to get himself something to drink.

Oh, you definitely should, I mentally think to myself, feeling heated by his wink, and then quickly shake the thought away in embarrassment.

Twenty minutes later, Noah’s friends and band members arrive, all wishing him a happy birthday and some of my friends join us later. Even though Noah insisted that he did not want some special moment with a cake and candles he had to blow out, we of course did exactly that, and even though he rolled his eyes and pretended to be grumpy with his arms crossed in front of his chest, I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that he secretly enjoyed it.

Later that evening, I’m sitting on the couch talking with some friends, laughing and drinking, and I feel Noah stealing some glances from me sometimes, making me blush and I stare back whenever I have the confidence. Now he just smugly smiles a bit, leaning against the counter with his Ghostmask off again, gloves wrapped around his beer, and my mind already goes to the most unholiest things so quickly—how the cold of the leather gloves would feel around my throat for example—

I clear my throat and quickly shake the thoughts away, trying to concentrate on the conversation with my friends again, mentally slapping myself against the head. I'm the worst.

But then, I feel someone sitting next to me, and almost jump when it's Noah, looking at me with an amused expression and some glint in his eyes that I can’t quite unravel yet.

“Noah,” I smile, “hi.”

He lifts his beer at me in a greeting gesture before smirking and turning his full attention to me. “How are you enjoying the party, Little Vampire?” he asks, coming up with a nickname right there on the spot, making me both blush in amusement and flattery.

He then leans back into the couch with a slight grin, before taking a sip from his drink. “Nice to see you didn’t cover your neck tonight.”

I can’t help but chuckle at his little joking comment. “Well, could say the same about the people around me, right? Need something to feed from after all,” I joke back.

He amusingly laughs at my remark, for sure noticing the redness once again spreading across my cheeks by the way his eyes seem to gleam even more.

Noah then leans in a little, making me let out an uncontrollable nervous breath, his eyes lingering on my lips for a moment before he looks into my eyes again, a mischievous glint now in his own dark ones.

“But have you found someone to feed of off yet? You’ve been eyeing me all night I’ve noticed.”

My eyes widen a little as he says that, my heart racing up a little, and I sheepishly smile at him.

“Have I? Oh—“

I blink as I don't know how to get the words out of my throat for a moment, and then proceed to quickly shake my head as my blush keeps spreading on my face, answering his question. “I have not found someone yet to feed, no—“

A smirk plays on Noah's lips as he notices my reaction, deciding to take it one step further. “Well you know… since it’s my birthday, I can give you a gift…” he then whispers into my ear.

Goosebumps appear on my skin as heat spreads now almost everywhere in my body at this point, and I slightly gasp at the feeling of one of his leather gloves then sliding up on my thigh.

“Aren’t people supposed to give you a gift when its their birthday?” I then answer back, looking at him through my lashes, the feeling of him squeezing the flesh of my thigh as well already unraveling so much inside of me already.

He lets out a playful hum, letting his hand travel further up now to my hip. He leans even more forward, his dark brown eyes trained on my lips again first before looking back into my eyes.

Then to my surprise he brushes his lips past my ear, his breath grazing my skin, making me hold my own. “Well… my birthday wish from you is to give me what you want most.”

A shaky breath escapes from my with red, blood colored painted lips, and I slightly turn my head to his face so our noses slightly brush against each other, faces dangerously close, making me able to feel his soft breathing through his nose brushing against my face.

I decide its now or never, wanting to take this chance, wanting him.

“How about you help a helpless vampire out and be my victim for tonight?” I whisper back, smiling slightly.

A slight grin forms on Noah's face as he hears my request. Leaning back a little he locks eyes with me for a moment before standing up, holding out his hand. “Follow me.”

With both nerves and excitement I take his hand, letting him pull me along towards the staircase that leads up to our apartments bedrooms, my heart pounding in my chest as we walk up side by side.

My mind is already spinning with nerves, desire and excitement. As soon as we reach his bedroom, he closes it behind us once we are in, and when he places his Ghostface mask back on his face again my eyes slightly widen, and the arousal between my legs begins to spread. Oh, he knows what he’s doing.

Then, Noah grabs me and pins me against his door, his hands resting behind me on each side of my body. He tilts my head at him, the mask making him look somewhat scary and yet mysterious—mysterious enough for me to become more flustered than ever. His eyes wander down to my lips, seeing the need to press them against mine but he clearly wants the game to continue first, just a little bit longer—by sliding his knee up between my legs, resting between my thighs.

I whimper as he does that, heart racing even more, and I need to hold onto his biceps for support because of the heat already being spread between my thighs, making me light headed with desire—and of course his biceps feel hard and trained, just like they normally already look like, and it makes me ache for him even more.

Noah smirks at the feeling of me holding onto him. “Already so needy and wanting for me,” he says into my ear, his hands sliding down my sides, feeling the lace of my corset underneath his fingers. He presses up against me with his knee to gain a little bit more friction against my core, making me let out another gasp.

“Noah,” I can’t help but gasp out his name, making me flush a little.

He leans his face against my neck, slowly taking off his mask again to let his lips hovering over my skin, his breath grazing the area gently, before pressing a small peck to the skin. “I can only imagine the sounds I can get out of you tonight.”

His teeth tug at my earlobe, before moving down towards my jawline, placing another kiss there. I groan, then wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him even more against me, making me able to feel his excitement growing, and it makes everything inside of me flush and heat up, and the desire for him grow. The thought that I’m the one that makes him feel this needy, makes me feel even more worked up.

Noah's hips push against mine, his head now buried in my neck, kissing the skin, even teasingly biting the skin at various places, not hard enough to cause any real harm, but enough to cause red marks that’ll stay for a while.

“Aren’t I the vampire here though?” I can’t help but teasingly grin at that.

Pulling his face out from my neck he looks into my eyes, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as I say that. “I think you’re forgetting that tonight is my birthday, not yours, little vampire, and I get to do what I want… and right now, all I want is you.” He leans in towards my face, his lips just inches away from mine—so close, yet so far.

“And this is only the beginning of your gift to me.”

My doe eyes widen as I look up to him, eager and desperate, and I still stubbornly lean to his neck despite his words, placing a few kisses before marking some bits of his skin. I feel him shiver underneath my touch, a low groan escaping his lips, making my heart beat even faster.

When I pull back with a smug smile, I say, “Vampires still need to be fed, birthday or not.”

He takes a small step back from me, his dark eyes raking over my body slowly, a smirk creeping on his face. “Take off the corset.”

The fast beating of my heart goes up to the pulse of my neck as he asks me that, a confirmation of where I hoped this night between us would go, and I quickly nod as I then take off the corset, leaving me in just my thin white blouse, revealing the outline of my chest, and a fire builds up in the pit of my stomach by the way he watches my every move.

Noah then takes a slow step towards me, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me close towards him, hips rubbing against mine again. I start to breathe heavily, hands trembling as I feel nervous yet excited.

Lifting my chin, he presses kisses to my jawline again, nipping at the skin here and there as well and it makes me softly moan, the other hand slowly moving up to my chest, as it goes underneath the fabric of my blouse. I enjoy the feeling of his warm, large hand there, making a ragged breath escape from my lips.

His fingers graze across my collarbone, feeling my skin underneath, and the touch is so light, almost like a feather is touching me. His lips trace up from my neck to my ear, nibbling on my earlobe gently again. Then, he takes a step back, my eyes locked with his, before he speaks.

“Get on the bed, now.”

I eagerly nod at him, walking towards his bed, sitting down at it and already taking and kicking off my own boots without him having to ask me to, since I’m getting desperate and needy for him by the minute—I’ve fantasized about a moment like this for embarrassingly too long, and now that it’s finally happening I want it now.

Noah then watches me lay down on his bed, eyes raking over my frame, taking in what was going to be his gift for tonight. He walks over to me before straddling my hips, taking his gloves off with his teeth before letting them fall onto the ground. The sight of him doing that makes my eyes nearly pop out, it being one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

Leaning down, Noah places teasing kisses on my cheek, then jaw, and slowly moving down to my neck again, his hands working on unbuttoning my blouse. His lips kiss every little part of exposed skin down from my neck, to my collarbones and then down to my chest, making me whimper and shift my hips against the mattress in anticipation—and I already feel like I'm getting taken to cloud nine.

He lets his tongue run across my skin, tasting me as he unbuttons the last few buttons of my blouse, making me gasp. He pushes the fabric off my arms and down onto the floor, then pulling back, looking down and taking in the sight of my skin and exposed chest. He licks his lips as his hands glide up to my sides, caressing the soft skin.

“So, so gorgeous,” he whispers in the dark, almost more towards himself it seems, his eyes drifting back up to meet mine after.

It feels like I’m exploding with fuel and desire inside, being lit up with every touch and look of him, making my heart hammer inside of my chest from nerves but especially excitement. My hips start to grind against his a bit, making me able to press a little against his bulge, and I have to bite back a amused smile by that, as I feel myself drooling between my legs by the feeling at the same time.

A low groan escapes Noah's lips as he looks back down between the both of us, getting stimulated by my movements. His lips then find my jaw again, teeth scraping the skin before pulling back to look into my eyes. He gives me a dark, smug look before he stands up from the bed, his hands slowly taking off his robe and the long sleeved shirt he wears underneath, letting it slide down his body as it falls to the ground by his feet. “Tell me how much you want me, sweetheart, so I can give you everything and more.”

And Jesus fucking Christ—he’s a sight, a goddamn hot, tattooed and worked out sight as I let my eyes roam over his exposed chest, flushing madly by it

“I want you,” I whisper as my eyes go back to his own darkened ones again, “for so long. Even more… like this.”

His lips curve into a smile as he slowly steps back towards me again, moving his hands down to his pants, slowly unbuckling the belt while looking into my eyes that slightly widen in anticipation. “How long have you waited for this?”

“Too long to admit,” I mumble, my eyes going down to his belt. “It's embarrassing.”

Noah slides his pants down his legs along with his underwear, letting them fall to the floor as well before slowly climbing on the bed, hovering over me once again, making my heart rate rise madly. His hands slide down my body, down to my skirt, his fingers hooking into them as I continue to look at him.

“It’s okay, I have too. And I know how needy you are right now, sweetheart.” He kisses my jawline, hands slowly pulling my skirt down my body, leaving me in only my panties.

“You–really?” I stumble as I hear his words, and all the fire in me burns up again, making me need him so badly, and wanting him, craving him, more than ever before.

One of his hands caresses my thigh, feeling the soft skin underneath his lean fingers, before slowly gliding up to my covered center. He watches his hand as it moves slowly over my panties, his fingers grazing my core, applying a teasing but light pressure, making me squirm.

“Of course,” he says in response, a devilish grin on his face, eyes looking down at where his hand is touching, and God, it's another hot sight. His other hand goes to remove the rings he wears on his fingers, the chunky silver ones I've grown to love so much, and I get more needy for him by the minute, making my body tremble with eagerness.

I look down at our naked bodies, making me heavily flush again but also dampen with even more in anticipation. Once his rings have made their way onto the nightstand he leans down towards my ear again. His lips ghost over the skin of my neck, trailing down as he speaks, “Are you sure you’re ready to be mine?... To let me take you in every way possible? To make you completely mine?”

He nips at the flesh before pulling back a little to look into my eyes. I whimper desperately at his words, chest rising up and down heavily, my arms already wrapping around his neck.

“Yes,” I breathe out in response, my eyes then looking at his lips.

Noah's right hand cups my cheek, gently caressing the skin with his thumb, and then finally pressing a soft kiss to my lips—it’s slow, passionate, and full of desire. Soon, his tongue grazes my lower lip, teasingly asking for entrance which I instantly give him, before moving his other hand to my waist and starting to slide my panties down my legs, all while never breaking the kiss.

I moan deeply in our kiss, my legs already slowly opening for him in pure eagerness as he then throws my panties away once they are fully down. His tongue slips into my mouth, swirling with mine as he groans against my mouth, the taste of him sweet and heavenly.

Noah's hands then slide across my thighs, his teeth grazing my bottom lip as he pulls it back for a second to look at me, before leaning down and kissing me once more, and God, it kills me and makes my anticipation and need for him grow even more and more. His right hand slides up my thigh, his fingers feeling the warmth of my center before rubbing against it gently.

My back arches slightly, eyes squeezing shut by the pleasure, and my jaw drops as sounds of pleasure begin to escape me. Noah can't seem to help but moan into my mouth in response, it makes him feel how badly I need him. He breaks the kiss and moves down to my jawline, then slowly down to my neck, leaving a few bruising bites behind, and I know they'll show tomorrow when I get up.

My panting and moaning get heavier and heavier with the more pleasure he gives me, his movements teasing at first, but then speeding up—leaving me a trembling mess. I can feel myself getting close, and Noah is being able to know by my desperate sounds and the way I move underneath him.

His lips pull away from my neck again, and he slowly slides down my body, placing kisses against my skin as he goes, his lips coming to rest at my chest. His left hand moves up my side towards my arm, pinning it down against the bed, before doing the same with the other arm. And now he has me underneath him, completely at his mercy, making my heart speeding up even more, with lips parted as I look at him with anticipation, as I'm about to get closer and closer to the edge.

Noah continues to work his fingers against my core, lips kissing all the way down my chest and then towards the inside of my thigh, leaving a faint trail of marks behind as he goes. His teeth graze the skin while his dark, lustful eyes never leave mine.

“Please,” I then breathe out as his mouth goes closer to my center, “I need you there—”

He listens to my pleas as a grin forms across his face. “Such a needy thing you are,” he chuckles softly against my sensitive skin. His eyes look back up to mine before looking at my aching core, making me shift even more in need.

“But, I will give you what you desire,” he then hums. His tongue flicks out, teasingly licking a slow, but broad trace, making me sharply inhale.

”Fuck,” I heavily pant out, making my back arch even more. I feel him smirk as my hips buck against his mouth as he hears the sounds of me falling apart beneath him. The hand that was holding my arm down moves up towards my head, gently lacing his fingers into my hair before pulling it, and he looks up again at me.

“Be good and take it,” he then commands with a low voice, it being enough to make me moan out loud again.

“I’ll take it,” I pant in response, “fuck, I’ll take it all—”

Noah hums against my core, slightly vibrating against me, driving me crazy. He then looks up at me through his lashes, watching my face contort and twitch in pleasure. His left hand then moves to the desk next to his bed again, taking one of the gloves off it and sliding it on again, making my eyes widen. Oh god—he has definitely noticed what those gloves did to me the whole evening.

I see him having to hold back a grin at my reaction, confirming that. “Look at you baby, already looking wrecked,” he teases, his eyes and lips leaving my enter to look up at me, his gloved hand now moving down to my core, slowly rubbing me, and I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of the leather against me.

“Oh God Noah,” I choke out, feeling myself getting even closer to the edge, and his lips curve into a mischievous grin.

“And now look at you, begging me already,” he taunts after a dark, amused chuckle follows. “I’ll give you what you want, darling, but only if you say my name. That’s the only way you’ll get what you need.”

“Noah,” I desperately choke out, my voice sounding needy, practically shaking as I say his name, and he chuckles softly at how vulnerable and exposed I am right now. “I’m so close, please—“

“That’s my pretty thing,” Noah hums, his lips going back to my aching center, continuing to devour me with his tongue, and I let out the most desperate sounds, and soon enough I grab and pull his hair, hitting my edge, hard and with trembling legs he needs to hold with both his hands.

The sounds I'm making are almost loud enough for the others, and the realization makes my climax feel even more pleasurable and hot to me. Noah pulls away from my center, looking at me, taking in my dazed expression.

“What a pretty thing you are, y/n,” he praises me as he crawls over and hovers over me again.

I blush yet roll my eyes at the same time, chuckling lightly. “Yeah yeah,” I playfully respond as I swat his chest, and he joins my laughter.

“Now roll over for me, and make me wish you an even better happy birthday.”

[prentissluvr]

abstract (psychopomp) — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, idk just like a lot of feelings, animal death, some descriptions of injury, blood, crying, mention of character death, 1.9K words. listen to abstract (psychopomp) by hozier.

summary : sam realizes that he loves you as you hold a dying cat in your arms and cry over its loss.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

your gasp startles sam. all had been quiet after the hunt, the cruel, clawed monster killed and the rumble of the impala filling the space in the silent air. the street is slick with fresh rain and clouds block the moon and stars.

“pull over,” you insist suddenly. sam glances over at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you’re very serious.

“what is it?” he asks, tearing his eyes from you to focus on the road. he’s already easing up on the gas.

“pull over, sam,” you repeat with more strength, voice imploring. he obliges, expression concerned as he swiftly brings the car to a stop on the side of the road. the tires screech from the effort because sam thinks something is horribly wrong. he’s worried about you, and that feeling only increases when you rush out from the car, leaving the door open as you run down the empty street back the way you came. it’s lit solely by a single flickering street lamp and the impala’s headlights.

“wait, hey, what are you–” he can’t get in a whole sentence before you’re gone. he puts the car in park and follows after you. greeted by the sight of you kneeling on the side of the road, back facing him, his frown deepens and he breaks into a jog. his long legs get him to your side in moments. you sit right underneath the orange light of the street lamp, your form illuminated by the gold of october leaves.

there’s something in your arms. something small and shaking and reflecting the light of the lamp. the smell of rain and grass is heady and delicate all at once.

your eyes are shadowed until you look up at him. then they’re shining with the threat of tears. sam crouches next to you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

it’s a cat, its tabby brown fur marred with blood and these deep, horrible gashes. its blood stains the road and mixes with newly fallen rain. it shines in orange light above you. the cat's eye glistens, and it’s still alive, barely, moving in your arms. clearly, the monster you just killed got to it, before you even arrived, and the poor creature’s been bleeding out slowly on the side of the road.

sam imagines that its body isn’t as warm in your arms as it should be. you hold it so gently, your hands so delicate and full of intention. with a pang to his heart, sam realizes that you just want to hold it as it passes. its eyes must’ve held fear as you gingerly lifted it into your arms. but that fear is gone as you softly, so softly, brush your fingers over the fur of its tiny head.

“shhh,” you hush sweetly, quietly. sam wonders how everything could be this silent. sam knows it would be wrong if it weren’t, though. “it’s okay. i’ve got you now. you’re alright.” your voice is lulling and murmuring and trembling.

it slows in your arms. it stills. sam puts a hand over yours and he feels where its fur is soft and silky, untainted by blood. the cat doesn’t breathe in again.

sam looks at your face, and as a tear rolls down your cheek, past the shadow over your eyes, it catches the light. his heart aches. it aches and it aches and it aches.

for the sweet, small creature, innocent and swept aside by unnatural claws. discarded and truly nothing more than collateral damage. its tiny paws and darling brown ears and its good-natured animal heart which all deserved nothing but soft and unconditional love. cat hearts are small, sam recalls. about fifteen times smaller than a human heart. he doesn’t remember where he read that.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s begun to rub small circles over your back. while he has a soul full of compassion for the pretty tabby cat, his heart aches for you the most.

you look so distraught. you’re still crying. there’s a dead animal in your arms.

the way that you hurt makes him feel it too, makes him desperate to fix it for you. he wonders if the tip of your nose is starting to get cold like it always does when it’s windy outside.

and there’s just… your humanity. all he can see in this moment is how it shines. how you’re better than anything he’s ever known. 

he thinks that sometimes it feels like the two of you choose what you’re doing. and then he realizes that it’s tearing at your hearts. he remembers that he’d choose anything but this if he could.

he knows you would too. you’d always choose a home and a purring brown tabby cat and house plants over this view; mangled bodies of the innocent, blood in the road, and weeds through the concrete. then again, it’s that humanity of yours that keeps you going. you can’t just leave it all, knowing you could save even one life with the knowledge that you have. you keep him going too.

sam wishes more than anything that this wasn’t it for you. sam knows better than anything now that he loves you. and this is the moment he realizes it. in orange light and a dark blue sky. in a haunting shadow and a soft brilliance. 

you are the soft brilliance. in all of your pain and weariness and honest devastation over the loss of a small animal you never knew. that’s what makes him love you, so fully and truly and with no room for a drop of doubt.

he’ll remember this view. it’s fucked up and horrible. it’s the most genuine display of unconditional love and humanity that he’s ever seen. it makes him wonder if someday he’ll be you, and you’ll be the cat, curled up and cold in his lap. the blood drains from his face and he almost starts to cry with you.

but he loves you too much now to go back. it’s strange, he’s loved you a long time. a long time, and now he finally knows it. and he loves all of you. his love for you just rushes through his veins, it overwhelms his senses, it multiplies the aching of his heart.

he sits all the way down, pressed close against you as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and draws you to his chest. the cold wet of rain that’s stuck between the grooves and bumps of the asphalt soaks up into the thick fabric of his jeans. his warm hand smooths up and down your arm. the other stays splayed over yours and the poor cat, like he can somehow protect you both. that hurts him because one of you is already gone.

sam doesn’t just let you take the time to mourn. he mourns with you. he lets go of the part of him that fights to push it all away, to pretend it isn’t there, to just play through the pain. instead, he lets himself feel it. the loss and the sadness and all the wishing that this never happened. that so many things never happened. you always bring sam back to himself.

eventually, sam realizes you need a bit of help with moving on. as soft and quiet as he can, he peels off his jacket to wrap the cat in. you shouldn’t have to keep staring at its bloody wounds. the cat shouldn’t have to be so cold. he lays the jacket on the ground in front of you.

“here,” he murmurs. you inhale sharply, like you’re coming out of a daze. when you look up at him, your eyes still shine. ever so gently, you place the poor thing over the fabric of his jacket. sam wraps it up, safe and warm for you. he tucks it carefully into one arm, silently and sadly marveling at how small it is. then he holds out his other hand for you.

he exhales softly through his lips when your trembling hand meets his. you look so tired, so worn as he pulls you to your feet. but a bit of burden has been lifted since he took the cat from your lap. there’s streaks of blood on your clothes, smothered over your gentle, calloused hands.

your hand doesn’t slip from his as you walk back to the car. you open the trunk and pull out salt, gasoline, and matches. sam locks the car and you walk out into the grass until you can barely see the road. the lump of sam’s jacket, with the cat’s sweet head and closed eyes framed by the fabric and the rest of its body hidden away, is set gently on the ground. it’s silent as the two of you build up a tiny pyre of sticks and dried leaves.

sam softly covers the animal’s face when he sets it over the sticks. the cat receives a proper hunter’s funeral. sam lights the match and sprinkles the salt. he doesn’t want you to have be the one to set it alight.

you sit on the dewy grass and watch, rather than stand so you can be closer to the small thing. sam sits beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. he’s a bit cold without his jacket, but he doesn’t care. the heat from the fire reaches him, though it's mostly swallowed up by the wind.

he looks at you, quiet and subtle in his movements. your features are lit up by orange light for the second time tonight. the fire flickers in your eyes and the shadows cast a haunted look over your face.

sam is afraid of losing you. he’s terrified. and he’s still glad he met you. all of his love and terror is poured into you. he won’t tell you that he loves you today. he’s unlikely to tell you tomorrow. he wonders if he’ll tell you the next day, or the next month or year. he will tell you. and before that, he’ll show you.

every moment from now, he’s utterly dedicated to you. to your humanity, love, passion, kindness, and soft, immovable goodness. he’ll hold you close and kiss that goodness and make sure that no one can touch it. he’ll make sure you know that it is seen and loved and honored so that you don’t ever feel that you have to tuck it away for the sake of looking strong. really, your strength is undeniable.

maybe any other day, you’d take a long, deep breath, then stand and walk back to the car before the fire flickers out. but sam’s understanding and willingness to do all of this for you is so unwavering and true that you don’t do anything at all. instead, you let yourself be.

the night is so slow. the clouds in the sky shift and swirl and reveal the stars sometimes. the moon shines bright and clear in the a.m.s once the storm clouds clear. tonight’s fire is stubborn and long lasting. it still sparks and crackles as the sky ever so slowly lightens. deep and heavy blue turns to soft purples and baby blue. the straggling clouds are wispy and sweet cotton candy pink as the sun touches the horizon. sam notices the lingering tears in your eyes as you gaze up at the honeyed tenderness of the morning.

the earth from a distance. see how it shines.

[sanakimohara]

[ MURDER HOUSE ] PT. 1 - H. H.

pairing: Hyunjin x fem! virgin reader

summary: he's dead and gone but you're bound to keep him feeling alive

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + SMUT + DUBCON + MEMTIONS OF DEATH + MENTIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS + MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE + SMOKING + HORROR + BREATH DEPRIVATION KINK + SLIGHT BDSM

Hyunjin had watched you from the moment you arrived, an unbidden spark of curiosity in his otherwise colorless existence. He hadn’t felt anything in years, perhaps decades, and thought he’d made peace with the emptiness.

Yet here you were.

Y/n Harmon, a girl not much younger than himself, is alive and well but swept up in a family plagued with misdeeds.

A father obsessed with infidelity who seemingly dedicated himself to righting his wrongs to your mother, who’d caught him in the act and drove herself deeper into instability trying to forgive him for it.

You’d trudged in behind the strained couple with a glimmer of hope dancing through your eyes as the realtor showed off the home’s exterior on a crisp October morning, and suddenly Hyunjin felt everything all over again—confusion, desire, even a strange hope.

Emotions the dead and gone had no claim to, especially in houses dredged in bloody histories, but you were something new, something strange, and evidently in need of someone to see you.

A girl in desperate need of companionship…

Hyunjin caught your desperation for it in the minor expressions you made, wholly fixated on you while your parents looked right past. In an instant, he wanted to be that very someone despite the ulterior motives that other spirits in the house insisted he pursue rather than become obsessed with you.

Hyunjin tried.

He did…

He stayed in the shadows, blending into the corners of rooms, his gaze fixed on your every movement. You were soft and warm, contrasting starkly against the cold walls of the house as if you brought a light with you that cast all his hidden parts into sharper relief. You moved through the house as if it were your ages ago, filling it with life, sound, and warmth he thought he’d forgotten how to crave. But more than that, you made him feel real again.

Alive.

From the soft laughter, you let out when coming across a particularly amusing line in a book you read while lying alone in bed to the sharp remarks you made when your parents failed to conceal their bitterness for one another….

That slight eye roll you gave when something annoyed you to your random curiosity when a new area of the house caught your attention…

Everything you did made him feel feverishly undead in ways that should’ve alarmed him but became a comfort instead.

Still, Hyunjin knew he had to tread carefully. You would never understand the things he had done, the way he carried out his version of justice in this house, even after death. He didn’t hurt people without reason. In life, he had only ever wanted to punish those who deserved it—the liars, the abusers, those who twisted love into something dark and monstrous. In his mind, he was righting the world’s wrongs, ensuring people paid for their sins. But to you, his hands would be bloody, his methods incomprehensible.

He was so sure of it…

You looked the type to shut someone out at the slightest implication of fear or mention of blood, and Hyunjin refused to taint you with the knowledge of his misdeeds for as long as possible.

So, he held back. He waited, studying you, letting your presence anchor him in a way he hadn’t expected. You became a tether, a reason to stay sane, a flickering flame he felt compelled to protect. Your laugh, your quiet moments in the dimly lit rooms, even the way you wandered the house as if sensing his presence—all of it tied him to this world with a fervor he’d almost forgotten.

Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. Every night, he edged closer, lingering by your bedroom door, memorizing the sound of your breath as you slept.

Listening in on your quiet moans on the nights you touched yourself in hopes of relieving stress and earning some gratification without being smothered with lonely thoughts. Hyunjin liked those nights the most, feeling selfish and far more demented for enjoying them but addicted to the quivering whines and soft, elated gasps you let out in the dead of night when you thought no one could hear you.

He could, and not a soul else knew it.

Not even you…

He was bound to break his binds to morality at some point, led on by your constant strives for pleasure becoming more frequent and driven mad by the annoyance of himself not being the sole cause of it.

It took one whisper from the pure evil lurking in every corner of the half-sized mansion to convince him that one overstep would surely not spiral into another.

It started as a whisper of movement. One shudder to the next, passing down your spine as your heavy and lust-filled eyes shifted around the room.

Searching.

Wandering.

Finding.

If he had any left to breathe, Hyunjin’s breath could’ve stopped right then and there. You stared through a half-focused gaze, slightly startled but too far gone on the antidepressants your father prescribed you behind your mother's back to care that a figment of a man you’d never seen before lying in the shadows of your new bedroom.

He had dark hair, dark eyes, and porcelain-cut skin that stood out against the pigment-devoid clothing he wore.

He looked lost, found all at once, and assured and unsure while staring you down from across the room. A familiar imbalance you’d felt following around day and night through the croaking house.

You recognized him—those fleeting moments when your eyes met across a shadowed room when your gaze held questions he wanted so badly to answer. The first time you spoke to him, his heart clenched in a way he hadn’t known was possible anymore.

“Who are you?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the illusion. Your eyes were searching, curious but cautious. Your hand slipped away from the space between your legs, covered in a sticky slick that dripped onto the bed as you shifted underneath the warm duvets -acting as if touching yourself was a secret you poorly kept from him and other specters who roamed the house as much as he does.

In that moment, he nearly faltered. He wanted to tell you everything, to lay bare every dark truth, every crime and secret he’d carried. But he knew he couldn’t. You were purity and light, and he was the ghost bound to the house’s sins. Instead, he merely offered a small smile, a mystery for you to ponder. “Someone who’s watched out for you.”

He didn’t need to explain it for you to feel the weight of his words. You thought it, too; he could see how your breath quickened, the slight flush that crept up your neck. He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve even the few glances you had spared him, but he was too far gone to turn back now. He was addicted to the way you looked at him, a look that told him maybe, just maybe, he could be someone worth loving.

In the days that followed, he started to reveal himself more, testing the waters, seeing if you could ever accept him for what he was. He would appear in your room, close enough to feel your warmth but careful to keep a respectful distance, as if afraid he’d taint you with his presence. He watched as you moved through his world, sometimes almost brushing against him, your heart beating wildly, your breaths shallow. And with every brush, every whispered exchange, he felt a flicker of hope.

It was only a matter of time before All Hallows Eve arrived. Letting spirits loose and secrets unfold into dire situations. Hyunjin had planned the night out from start to finish, looking forward to walking the mortal plane for a night weeks before he uttered the desire to spend it with you in your ear, and he was modestly elated that you agreed to the idea. To some degree, he was in disbelief that you found him that trustworthy -abandoning the tradition of celebrating the holiday with your family to be with him in the hours he existed again. Yet, he saw no reason to complain and made the very best of the time from the moment he swept you up in a tight hug and a quick smothering kiss on the haunted doorstep you walked onto to greet him down to the moment you rushed back into the house to outrun the group of enraged peers he helped you taunt during your time at the Night Carnival.

Hyunjin snickered as the shouting gaggle of briskly dressed girls tried to push the stream of trick-or-treaters to and from the house's doorstep. A charming grin overtook his lips as they stumbled about and gave up just as they reached the porch's edge, unable to go any further with an invisible and haunting force deterring them elsewhere. Your knowing smile nearly mirrored his triumphant smirk, but it quickly dropped as the head of the drunken group shouted a sleazy and slurred insult at you before leading the pack off the ominous property. "Burn in Hell, Virgin Freak!"

Your mind reeled at the impulsive comment, echoing in your mind with their scathing and distancing laughter, and a remaining thought even the sound of Hyunjin's dismissive chuckling could silence.

There was truth to their insult, and it angered you beyond comprehension. In a fit of anger, you stomped off the porch and into the looming house, slamming the door shut behind you with no intention of waiting for him to walk through it. Hyunjin frowned, spawning past the closed doorway with ease and following you up the winding staircase as you stalked up to your room. "Y/n, it's not that big of a deal-" he started, gently encouraging you to forget about what had been said in hopes of raising your mood again, but you scoffed as you reached your bedroom.

"Maybe to you it is, but to me, those bitches have a point."

You inwardly winced at admitting their observations held some truth, convinced you'd never outrun their scrutiny, and slightly ashamed Hyunjin had heard them say it in person. You presumed he feigned indifference to hearing it for your sake, but in truth, he fed off the knowledge that no other soul -alive or dead- had laid a hand on what he now knew to be his in death and life for one night a year.

"Don't let those assholes get to you, sweetheart. They're idiots, alright?" Hyunjin gazed at you, spilling brisk reassurance off his tongue like clockwork, but instead of instantly shifting your mindset, it only made you angrier. "What would you know? You're dead..." The comment is easy enough to say without thinking, but the subtle guilt you feel as the room goes silent is humbling. You steal a glance, hoping to apologize, but he's gone and completely vanished. You chew your bottom lip, glancing around, and prepared to call out an apology to him on instinct, but you're stopped short by your sharp gasp, feeling deathly cold hands reach for your breasts from behind.

"Fuck! Hy-Hyunjin, dont do that...." you whined, mildly annoyed he didn't dare to trail his hands underneath the hem of your black lacey dress. He stayed completely still, merely shifting his head to rest on your shoulder at the sound of your strained voice. "Do I feel dead to you now?" You freeze at his mumbled question, coming to terms with the heat from his slender fingers and palms. Tension pulsed through him, thriving through his chest into your backside, all the way down to his pelvis, gingerly pressing up against your ass. Hyunjin steadied himself, letting your rock into his weight and masking a coy smile as a soft and delighted sigh slipped past your lips easier than your sudden insult to his existence had.

"Do I...." he repeated in a lowered huff, kneading your breaths with heavy-handed grasps, enjoying the warmth of your living muscle in his own palm. You shudder, back arching to press your chest further into his wandering grip and hips rolling into his as he voices the rest of his previous question. "Feel dead to you..." He paused, groaning loudly into the crook of your neck, briefly stalled by the sound of your sudden whines for him and the feeling of your hands reaching to run through his dark, soot hair, and scratch at his right wrist while his fingers twisted and swirled your hardening nipples through black fabric

Your hips buckled at the tension he was inflicting on you, braced by the shift of his hands to your waist to hold you still as he caught a sharp breath of confidence. A brief pass of silence hung in the damp air, only interrupted by your shared heady breathing and dissolved by Hyunjin's direct assumption that rolled off his tongue like the devil's most accurate secret being muttered into your ear/ "Let's prove them wrong...let me give you something to keep living for." You leered into him at the offer, meeting his dark, hooded eyes through the mirror. You stood before for a long moment before offering him a small charming smile of agreeance.

"Alright.."

A/N: I got a JOB

Other Links: Tik Tok + Discord + Instagram

TAGLIST🖤: N/A

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

🗣️ Credits to creator 💜

[pitchsidestories]

antidote II Leila Ouahabi x Reader

a/n: dear readers, enjoy reading this little oneshot and thank you @taysappho for sending us the request. 🤍🤍

masterlist I word count: 1446

“Amor, have you seen?”, Leila asked, her face brightly smiling at you through the phone screen.

Of course, you had seen it. You had been sitting in front of your phone to watch the UWCL draw and had prayed to whoever might have listened that Barcelona and Manchester City would face each other. There was nothing you wanted more than to play against your girlfriend on the biggest stage of European club football.

“The results of the UWCL draw? Yes!”, you yelled back at her through the video call.

“We’ll be playing against each other.“, Leila summarized the obvious, seemingly still unable to believe it.

You nodded: “I can’t wait for it.“

“Me neither.“

“The first game is in October already.“, you said, checking the schedule on your phone again.

Leilas face grinned at you from the small square in the corner of your screen: “I can’t wait to have you in Manchester.“

“And in December you’ll be playing in Barcelona.“, you added.

“Only in December?”, Leila asked suddenly.

You frowned, turning your attention back to your video call: “Uhm, what do you mean by that?“

Pausing, you watched the background of Leilas video passing by behind her as she kept walking with her front camera focused on herself. You knew where she was.

“Wait, are you at an airport?”

She beamed at you proudly: “Just landed. Do you want a flat white or a cappuccino?“

“No way…“, you said incredulously and then added: “Cappuccino please.“

“Will be delivered soon.“, Leila winked into the camera.

You shook your head, still in awe about the surprise: “I love you.“

“I know. Love you too.“

With that she ended the call. Silence filled your Barcelona apartment with the exception of your heart beating loudly against your chest. You still couldn’t believe that she would be here soon.

You had been together for a few years now and long-distance worked surprisingly well for the two of you but you couldn’t deny that you often found yourself missing her. You both had tight schedules so visiting each other was a rare luxury usually reserved for the winter and summer breaks.

A ringing on your doorbell announced what you hoped would be the arrival of Leila a little later. You opened the door with a grin, making space to let her in: “Come on in, gentlewoman.“

“Thank you. Here’s your coffee.“, she laughed, while balancing two steaming to-go cups and her duffle bag.

You gratefully took the cup she offered you and took a sip. “Oh, it’s still hot.“, you remarked with surprise.

Leila dropped her bag to the floor and gave you an “Oh please“ - look.

“Of course, I know what I’m doing.“, she laughed before pulling you in for an embrace.

You could feel yourself melt into her, breathing in her scent. You had missed her more than you had realized.

“For how long you will stay?”, the question passed your lips without thinking.

“A few days.”, Leila replied smiling.

Relief flooded you in an instant, a few days was more than you were used to getting since the defender made her move to Manchester.

“That’s amazing.”, you muttered happily.

“The club gave me a couple of days off because of the injury.”, she explained more seriously.

Your heart sank at your girlfriends mentioning the reason why the dark-haired woman was able to be in your arms in this exact moment.

“How are you, Leila?”, you asked her concerned.

“I’m okay, really.”, Leila answered, lifting your chin so you could see the truth reflected in her beautiful brown eyes.

“Can I do anything?”

“Well, you can spend some time with me.”, the defender suggested. For a second, she paused. With a mischievous smile playing on her lips your girlfriend continued. “I heard that should help.”

“Does that help?”, you questioned innocently after kissing the only slightly taller woman gently.

“I think it does.”, Leila admitted grinning amused.

“Good.”, you nodded satisfied with her answer.

“Come here, amor. I missed you.”, she demanded softly.

“I missed you too.”, you whispered a quiet confession.

“Yes, I know.”, the fellow footballer responded cheekily.

“Bienvenida a casa.”

“Nice place.”, Leila observed, really taking in your new flat this time.

“It’s, huh? You can see the sea from the balcony.”, you rambled on excitedly, eager to show her everything of your appartement which your lover normally only saw through the small screen during your video calls.

“Show me.”, she requested. No more assurance was needed afterwards.

“Isn’t the view gorgeous?”, you beamed at her once the two of you have stepped on to the balcony.

It was decorated with a few green plants, a small table accompanied by two chairs, but the most thrilling part of it was indeed the fantastic scenery. The sounds of the buzzing city were audible, but underneath all of that you could hear the waves crashing to the shore. While the sight of the sea always mesmerized you.

“Very.”, Leila giggled, she was unable to take her eyes off you. After all those years together, the dark-haired woman was still enchanted by you.

“You’re not even looking at it.”, you protested weakly.

“I see something better.”, the defender countered in a flirty tone.

“You do?”, you raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“I do.”, your girlfriend confirmed, she cupped your face with her long and delicate hands and left hungry kisses all over your face it gave you fuel to your own desires too. Oh, how you’ve missed her presence and her touches. It’s been too long without it, you thought to yourself.

With innocent eyes you blinked at her: “It’s getting kind of chilly, don’t you agree? Maybe we should go back inside.“

“I agree.“, Leila smiled knowingly like she could read your mind.

As you walked back inside, followed closely by your girlfriend, you grinned: “I need to show you the bedroom next.“

“Oh please do.“, she laughed while her hand slid down towards your butt, her finger hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

“Follow me.“, you laughed and led her to your bedroom.

You spend the night between the sheets but wide awake. It was a blur of lingering touches and soft kisses on tender skin. You only fell asleep in Leilas arms when the sun started to rise again.

You decided to let Leila sleep when you had to get up for training the next morning.

Yawning you sat in the dressing room while you got dressed for training. You were basically still half asleep when Alexia appeared next to you, pulling on your training shirt.

“Looks like boyfriend Leila is back in town.“, she smirked.

You blinked at her against the tiredness: “How… Oh.“

Your hand shot up to your neck, covering up the visible hickie that you had forgotten to cover up. You could feel the blood rush into your cheeks and cursed yourself for being so inattentive this morning.

“Show us!”, Patri demanded while pulling on your arm.

Sighing, you let go. She whistled impressed once she took a look at the bruise: “Wow, looks like she missed you a lot.“

“Yeah, no make up could conceal that.“, Mapi agreed, teasing.

You groaned, wishing you could just disappear from the face of the world: “Chicas, please.“

“Is she still in Barcelona?”, Alexia asked curiously.

“Yes, Leila is here for a few more days… She obviously wants to see you all too.“

Mapi laughed: “Do you think you can make her leave the bed for us?”

“Yes, if we’re going to her favourite restaurant.“, you shrugged.

Alexia nodded once: “We can arrange that.“

Before you knew it, your captain whipped out her phone and made a reservation for the whole team the following night.

With relief you left the pitch one and a half hours later and were surprised by Leila waiting for you at the exit. She was in an oversized hoodie that you knew too well with the hood up, hiding her face.

She scooped you up into a tight hug and whispered: “Did they notice…?”

“Of course they did!”, you replied, hitting her playfully on her arm.

“Sorry.“, she laughed.

You grimaced at her: “You don’t look sorry though.“

“I’m not. Next time I will leave it somewhere more inconspicuous.“, she promised with a grin that verged on dirty.

You bumped her shoulder with yours: “We’ll have dinner with the team tomorrow, I hope you can behave for that.“

“We’ll see about that.“, she shrugged.

“Leila!“

“Sorry.“, she laughed.

Shaking your head, you took her hand in yours and started walking.

This girl really couldn’t behave, not even in public. Maybe going back to your bedroom was the better idea.

[springtyme]

For your autumn challenge (I have a lot of ideas 🥲)

- Sydney getting cold in the fall bc the temperatures drop unusually quickly, so reader gives Sydney her sweater & Sydney gets flustered about it

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

Sydney Adamu x reader || Main masterlist || Sydney playlist

summary: On a cold October day in Chicago, you share a little of your warmth.

word count: 900

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕) 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

The last whisper of summer has slipped through the cracks like a fast fading memory, leaving behind a chill in the air that feels like it has arrived much too early. As a brisk wind sweeps through the streets of Chicago, Sydney pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders and quickens her pace toward the little café on the corner.

When she enters, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked pastries wraps around her like a comforting embrace, and she spots you already seated at a cozy table near the window. You look up to greet her, and the chill in her bones melts away at the sight of your smile.

“Hey, you!” you call out, waving her over. Your eyes sparkle with warmth, and as she approaches, she can’t help but grin back at you, though she is still shivering slightly from the sudden drop in temperature.

“Hi,” she says, sliding into the chair across from you. As she settles in, she rubs her arms to stave off the cold.

“This is for you,” you say, reaching for the hot cocoa you have ordered for her. “It just felt so fitting for the weather. ” You slide it over, and Syd feels how her lips curl into a smile.

“Thank you,” she says, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. “This is just what I need, I’m freezing, I really didn’t expect it to be so chilly today.” She wraps her hands around the mug, smiling like the beverage has magically warmed her entire body, but it is clear that the cold air has seeped into her bones.

“Here,” you say instinctively, shrugging off your oversized sweater that you are wearing over your hoodie. It is a soft, knit piece, the type of sweater that feels like a warm hug when you wear it, and you drape it across the table toward her. “Put this on.”

Sydney’s eyes widen in surprise, her ears and cheeks tickling with warmth that has less to do with the cocoa and more to do with your gesture. “ Are you sure..? Won’t you be cold.”

“I’m fine. You look like you could use it more than I do,” you insist, a playful smile dancing on your lips. Your eyes are sparkling as you give her a reassuring nod.

“Seriously?” she asks, hesitating as she glances at the cozy garment, then back at your encouraging smile.

“Seriously. I think I’ll look good on you too,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows as you prompt her to take it.

With a nervous giggle, she picks up the sweater and pulls it over her head, she can’t help but smile even wider as she folds her hands over the cuffs, letting the warmth envelop her. “God, this is so comfy! I’m stealing it,” she jokes.

You laugh. “Maybe you should. It looks better on you than on me,” you say, your demeanor shifting into something softer. 

Sydney feels her heart race slightly at that, her cheeks heating up again—not just from the snugness of your sweater. She can’t find the words, instead just sipping her cocoa again and looking down, a shy smile painting her lips.

“Well, I definitely don’t think that is true…” she begins, her tone suddenly quiet. “But it’s really sweet of you to give me this.”

“I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” you reply, moving your hand slightly closer to hers on the table. “Only people I really care about.”

Her heart flutters, and she meets your gaze, her vulnerability mirrored in your eyes. “I uh… I care about you too,” she whispers, feeling giddy and flustered all at once.

A short moment of comfortable silence  falls between you, your eyes locked. It is a moment that feels both magical and nerve wracking. You smile at her, not your usual wide confident one, this one is more gentle and slightly bashful, almost shy, but it only takes a few seconds for you to find your family grin. 

The silence breaks and the conversation shifts to laughter and shared stories, the chill of the world outside forgotten in the cozy bubble that forms around you two. The way you  so easily offered your sweater, bone-deep warmth radiating through the wool that now envelops her, it feels deeper than just a simple gesture.

The café buzzes with life around you, but for Syd, it feels as if time stands still. The warmth of your sweater and your presence fills the space between you, and she feels something more than just the heat of your kind act; it is the warmth of budding affection and an exciting possibility—a sweet prelude to what is slowly blossoming between the two of you.

As the afternoon light begins to dim, painting the café in golden hues, Sydney catches glimpses of the world beyond the window, people bustling past, wrapped in their own narratives and lives. Yet, her attention is anchored solely on you. The way you laugh, how your eyes gleam in the warm light of the café as you talk, the way that you look at her… all of it envelops her like the sweater she now wears, each moment knit together with invisible threads of connection. And in this moment she can not help but wonder if your connection can be woven into something even more beautiful, that maybe you really have feelings like she has.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

🎃DM/inbox to join! Collab deets can be found here!

🎃Status: closed

🎃Deadline: October 31st, 2024

👻 Fic List :

Jujutsu Kaisen

1. @younmexreaders -A Kind, Warm Heart A hike through the mountains takes a terrible turn when you encounter a monster looking for a snack. You are saved, however, by an intensely serious naga. You decide to thank Nanami (Nagami?) for saving you. Pairing: Naga Nanami x reader -Just Keep Quiet You're enjoying yourself on Halloween at a nice bar when you're suddenly approached by an odd man who no one else can see. As long as you keep quiet, you can enjoy a nice, kinky night with this… ghost? Pairing: Mahito x Chubby fem reader 2. @simplygojo -The Witch's Surrender When reader finds herself in a stalemate during a showdown with Gojo, their competetive streak results in some sexy happenings. Pairing: Gojo x Witch! Reader 3. @anonimusunnoaniswriting - Neptune A creature of the deep pulls you under, and inexplicably, you're drawn to him, belonging to him in ways that you don't quite understand. merman! Geto x fem reader 4. @heian-era-housewife -You Can Be The Beauty And I Can Be The Monster Things get a little monstrous when you end up swapping bodies with the very curse you were sent to destroy. Pairing: True form curse monster sukuna X fem reader 5. @lazyjellyfish300 -By The Moon The story of you, the daughter of a village baker and how you came to fall for the mysterious Atsuya Kusakabe who harbors a dark secret that plagues him every full moon. One problem: you're betrothed to Naoya Zenin who you do not love. Pairing: Werewolf! Kusakabe x Fem reader 6. @sassypossum Lingering In Perdition You are a newly fledged Dhampir, trying to navigate the lifestyle of a monster. Thank God you have a pair of beastly lovers to help you through it all. Pairing: Incubus!Gojo x Dhampir!Reader x Incubus!Geto

Love and Deepspace

1. @jasminumdew -Rafayel (mermaid x siren reader) You went out hunting to feed your sick merman lover, but he doesn’t seem to be hungry, at least not in that way. -Sylus (werewolf) Being in a relationship with a werewolf comes with indulging in his instinct to hunt, and you’re more than happy to be his prey. Ready? Run! -Zayne (x kitten hybrid reader) Being in heat isn't so bad when Dr. Zayne is there to help you through it. -Xavier (hare hybrid x bunny reader) A little discipline from Xavier when you misbehave and cum without permission. 2. @nixthisis - DRESSUP A Halloween party is the perfect disguise for your two vampire lovers to come out and play. Pairing: vampire! zayne x fem! reader with a side of vampire! sylus 3. @dissociation-station123 - Fallen He said he'd make him fall. Who could resist the temptation of you after all? Pairing: Demon(Sylus) X Reader X Zayne (Angel to fallen Angel)

Bleach

1. @seireiteihellbutterfly - The Dragon's Mate You're swept away into the watery depths of a dragon's abode. Who would have thought that this would be your eternal mate? Pairing: water dragon! Ukitake x fem! reader

My Hero Academia

1. @rahuratna - Epimetheus When a fugitive arrives at The Jaws, the home of your clan, deep in the mountains, you nurse him back to health. As his true nature is slowly revealed, it brings change to your life that is beyond your wildest imaginings. Pairing: Gigantomachia as a titan x giant! reader 2. @actuallysaiyan - Video Vamps Hizashi and Shouta invite you over to show you a scary video game they found, but really it's just to get you to consent to their own little mind game. Pairing: Vampire!Hizashi Yamada & Vampire!Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader -And Keep The Beast At Bay You keep trying to get rid of that damn nightmare, but it turns out it's not a nightmare at all. Pairing: Demon/Incubus with All Smite/Villain!All Might

dividers by @cafekitsune Collab banner by @actuallysaiyan

[lvrhughes]

Pumpkin Patches | J. Drysdale

pairing: Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary: Jamie and his best friend go to the pumpkin patch, leading to a confession.

word count: 1.13k

warnings: none

requested: no

not my gif!

“Please, please, we have to go. It’s a once in a year thing!” you begged, your hands pressed against each other as you pleaded at Jamie, standing in front of the Canadian boy in his own home, blocking him from the front door.

“If I agree, will you let me out of my house?” His voice held a hint of sarcasm, not that you’d pick up on that now. 

“Yes! Yes, you’re free if you promise to come.”

He’d never tell you that his question was sarcastic, especially upon seeing the shine in your eyes once you’d thought he agreed. So he did. 

“This is so dumb, it’s all couples.” 

So maybe you hadn’t thought it through taking your best friend, who you may have had a crush on, to a pumpkin patch in the mid of october. But you were sure it’d be fine. 

“It’s fine Jam, we can do our own thing. We’ll be better than the couples.” You grinned, linking your arm through his to bring him through the field.

He followed swiftly, keeping up with your rapid movements as you ran towards anything that piqued your interested, including the random scarecrow that stood guard in the middle of the field. 

“That thing’s so creepy.” Jamie muttered, watching you run towards the figure with a smile on your face, turning to beg him to take your picture with it. 

He complied, as much as he found the thing creepy, he’d do anything for you. Even if it meant standing by a demented scarecrow longer than necessary.

You quickly grabbed his hand after, bringing him deeper into the fields of pumpkins. Stopping suddenly, Jamie practically walking into your body as you moved to kneel to the ground. 

“What are you doing?”

“Jam, it’s perfect.” Your voice was filled with awe, picking up a tiny, oddly deformed, pumpkin from the ground. 

“What?” He looked dumbfounded, staring at the pumpkin you held while you put your hands out to show him. 

“I’m taking it home.” 

Jamie shook his head, he had no argument, how was he going to tell his best friend her pumpkin was stupid? He wouldn’t. 

“Okay, are we done here now?” 

Having been at the patch for the last two hours, running through the fields with the girl he harbored a crush on for years, he grew tired. 

“No, we still need to get hot cider and go for a ride on the tractor!” 

He simply nodded, allowing you to take his hand and lead him back towards the entrance. Taking him to the booth of hot apple cider just beside the gates, leading him to stand in line whilst you held onto your tiny pumpkin. The line moved quickly, letting you and Jamie get you drinks within five minutes, leaving you standing waiting for the tractor to come back for another round of rides. 

A shiver ran through your body, the wind having picked up nearing the end of the day, you held the warm cup closer to you. Jamie moved quickly, shoving his jacket off and around your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm. 

It was a peaceful moment, waiting for the owners to return with the tractor, the sunsetting in the background whilst you swayed in Jamie’s arms. 

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted the moment, she held a camera and a shy smile on her face, “Would you mind if I take a photo of y’all for our website? You two just look so cute.” 

You looked up at Jamie, waiting for his answer, he mumbled a soft ‘sure’ towards the woman before she picked up her camera. Aiming it towards the two of you whilst you smiled for the picture, hearing the click of the shutter as she thanked you again. 

“I think she thought we were dating.” Jamie spoke first once she left, his arms still wrapped around you as he spoke, running softly up and down your body.

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?” 

���No.” 

You looked up quickly, trying to gauge the reaction on his face as he stared back at you, yet the tractor seemed to arrive before you could further an explanation. 

“Last ride of the night!” The farmer exclaimed, urging the few people who stood around you and Jamie onto the tractor, loading you both last. 

The ride was peaceful, the sunset melting into gorgeous colors around you while Jamie kept his hold on you, his arm never leaving your waist for the ride. It was a ten minute ride, yet it felt shorter, yearning for longer when you had to get off. Jamie jumping down softly, reaching his arms out to help you down before collecting your pumpkin and ciders you’d left on a hay bale before the ride. 

“For you, M’lady.” He joked, passing you the, now lukewarm, cup of cider and the tiny pumpkin. 

“We’ve got to pay for the pumpkin then we can leave.” You spoke, taking a sip of the cider whilst walking towards the makeshift counter. 

Dropping the pumpkin on the counter in front of the woman, she all but laughed, smiling at your choice of pumpkin before speaking. Jamie’s arms wrapping around your waist as you listened to the woman, letting his warmth surround you. 

“This is your pumpkin of choice, sweetie? You can have it, on the house.” She grinned. Passing the pumpkin back to  you. 

“Really?” 

“Really, it’s yours. Now have a lovely night you two.” She spoke  softly, waving her hands to signal for you to leave, smiling at her as you walked away. 

“You got a free pumpkin, how do you feel?” Jamie asked, opening the passenger door once you’d made it to his car. 

“This was amazing, thank you for coming.” 

Jamie smiled at the words, sliding into the driver's seat with ease, starting the car to turn the heat on in seconds. His gaze falling to you quickly, catching your eye when you stared back at him. 

“Can you kiss me now?” 

Jamie’s mouth dropped at the words, staring at you like you’d spoken Spanish to him before he collected himself. Leaning further over the center console while keeping his gaze on you, staring at your lips before he spoke. 

“Only if you’ll agree to be my girlfriend.” 

“I think I can agree to that.”  

You smiled, watching the smile grow on his face as he reached over. Cupping your jaw while he leaned to press his lips against yours, letting you melt towards his while fireworks seemed to ignite throughout your body. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Jamie whispered, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve been wanting you to do that for so long.” You whispered back, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips again.

[maybege]

Drained

Summary: Donating blood suddenly has a very different meaning.

Pairing: vampire!Paz Vizsla x fem!!Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, explicit sexual content, dry humping, blood

Happy October everybody! I hope that autumn is treating you well and if it is not, that I can make you feel a little better with this Halloween-y Paz piece. As always, this is an AU that has existed extensively in my mind for a very long time, so it was fun to actually write something about it lol I hope you enjoy it and if you do, please leave a comment or a reblog, so we can all freak out about what a hot fun guy vampire!Paz is.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The night air was crisp as you made your way to one of the most exclusive clubs in the whole city and your choice to wear high heels felt stupider with every step you took over the wet streets of downtown but it was too late to change your mind now. In more ways than one.

You threw another look at your phone, where your navigation app guided you down yet another dark alleyway until you arrived at a door that couldn’t look further from trustworthy if it tried.

But as you pushed the door to Vizsla’s Speakeasy open and made your way behind a deep red velvet curtain, you were suddenly enveloped in pure luxury. You could make out leather tufted booths in the candlelight. The walls were dark but shimmery, looking soft to the touch, and more than one wall was covered in golden picture frames. Jazz music played in the background, though you could not see a live band, though maybe they were just hidden in the depths of the bar.

The place was packed – so packed, in fact, that you were surprised you hadn’t heard the commotion outside. Those brick walls must be very thick, indeed.

Trying very hard not to think about the fact that you were surrounded mostly by vampires, you made your way to the bar which was set up on the long side of the room. A tall woman stood behind the counter, looking busy. The shelves behind her were stacked with easily hundreds of liquor bottles, creating a colourful backdrop.

“Uh, hi, I am here to, uh, to – “

“New donor?” the gruff woman asked, not stopping her work of wiping down the counter.

You nodded quickly, trying to make yourself feel tall and confident and hoping that no one saw how tightly you were gripping your bag.

Marylin had sworn on her new designer bag that blood donating was one of the safest things one could do (“and it gets you bags like these!”). Considering how long you had worked together, it was kind of tragic that it took four years and her floating into work with that cherry red bag that you had seen in a window one day and had dreamt of ever since to ask her where she had all that disposable income from.

After all, you both worked the same job.

“Oh, that is easy,” she grinned, “I am donating blood.”

It was common knowledge that the streets of the city belonged to the creatures of the night. At least it had been that way ever since you could remember. Your grandparents sometimes still talked about the time before vampires and werewolves suddenly appeared at every corner, drastically changing life as they knew it.

The time of change was something neither of your grandparents ever talked about. It must have been rough. But somehow, after years of tensions and deaths and protests, it all settled into something that everyone could live with. And part of that was that the cities were flooded at night with people that previously had to hide. There were establishments specifically for them, where like and like mingled, and from a young age you were taught never to go out at night.

As you grew older and actually moved from your parents' place in the peaceful suburbs to the city, you knew that nighttime was not as dangerous as they had made it out to be. The interest vampires and werewolves had in actually tearing you up was overrated and you could still go out for an after-work drink or celebrate your birthday by going out until the sun rose. There were just some streets you tried to avoid.

But a huge part of why it was no longer so dangerous was because blood banks existed. And not the kinds to save people’s lives. Although, in some way, they did. Vampires no longer having to hunt and drain innocent bystanders entirely of their blood to survive made the biggest difference in being able to share a society.

You could go to any hospital and donate blood just like in old times and, just like in old times, you were compensated with a small fee. Charitable work, truly.

Unless you wanted to get a cherry red handbag, pay off the medical bills inherited from your childhood, finally afford an apartment bigger than a shoebox, or invite your friends out for dinner sometime.

Then, you wanted to go where Marilyn directed you. Into one of the vampire-owned locations where said vampires would splurge a lot of money on getting blood that was not vacuum sealed in a medical-grade plastic bag.

“It is like a very unusual cocktail bar,” your colleague had explained, showing you her neck and wrists to make her point about how no marks were left after a few days, “And I have never felt safer anywhere else. Just try it and thank me later!”

Which is why you were now standing in front of a woman who looked nothing like how you imagined a vampire to look. She was wearing normal clothes, for one, and her tattoo sleeve did not make her look very immortal. “Name’s Steph,” she introduced herself. “Care for a welcome mocktail while you wait?”

“No, thank you.”

She nodded. “Mar sent you, right?”

It took you a moment to realize that Mar was Marilyn and you nodded, nervously looking around. There was no official dress code but you were happy you ended up going with the black pumps and the little black dress. Everyone here looked like they were dripping in understated wealth. “She said she wouldn’t be here today.”

“Nah, she only comes on Tuesdays,” Steph explained and set the glass down, “But you’re not here to see Mar.”

No, you were not, and the reminder made your throat feel very dry.

“There is no reason to be nervous,” she smiled, “The first donation is always with one of your more senior guests. They have more experience with feeding off someone alive and can control themselves if you show any signs of discomfort. If you feel in any way unsafe, just say Geronimo, and I will come and make sure you are okay, okay?”

You nodded, biting your tongue to ask how she was supposed to hear you over the noise.

“I am sure you want to get to know who is going to be assigned to you tonight – Pat!”

A woman turned around with the happiest smile you had ever seen. Her dark hair was in a tousled updo and heavy diamond earrings swung when she turned around. Though that was not what you focussed on. There was a small trail of blood down her throat and you wondered if you should tell her. How hard was blood to get out of clothes anyway?

“What’s up?”

“Where’s Djarin tonight?”

“Oh, he's gone camping again,” she explained, “He asked Mr Vizsla to take over, he should be here somewhere, I just saw him …”

“He is right here, ladies,” a deep voice said right behind you and you turned around.

You were not sure what you had been expecting. Certainly not this specimen. He was tall. And broad. And handsome.

Oh fuck, why is he so handsome?

Mr Vizsla was the biggest man you had ever seen and if you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was a werewolf. He had a strong, stubbled jaw and his dark hair was swept into a hairstyle that made you think of your grandmother's movies. He wore an all-black suit with the first few buttons undone, which meant you got a peek at his chest and the gold chain that was around his neck.

“She’s the newbie that was assigned to Djarin tonight.”

You met his gaze and immediately knew he had caught you ogling him. Shit. But then his eyes roamed over you and you swallowed, trying to stand a little taller even if your feet were already killing you. This was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and everything in you wanted to impress him. The side of his mouth quirked up into a charming smile.

“I'll take it from here,” he announced and held out his hand to you, “why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable, darling?"

You followed him silently through the bar that seemed to much deeper in the building than you had originally thought. At one point, you even passed the band. You spotted his face in a few pictures, several of them black and white.

He looked older than you but he didn’t look old. Not like he had lived entire millennia. Maybe he hadn’t. Was it considered rude to ask vampires their age?

“Did you read the pamphlet?” he asked when he stopped you both at a small and empty booth. His hand was warm and dry, you could feel a few callouses at his fingertips and you wondered if he worked. Or if he had always been a … businessman? Bar owner?

You nodded, listing off every bullet point that had been on the online info sheet Marylin (Mar, apparently) had forwarded to your email. “I made sure to hydrate plenty, am not taking any blood thinners and my last check-up at the GP did not show anything wrong with my bloodwork. I should be good to donate blood.”

“Good,” he nodded, “do you have any questions before we get started? Anything at all?”

You shook your head. You knew why you were here but why did it suddenly all feel so fast?

His strong hand wrapped around your wrist and you let your eyes drift over the tattoos on his knuckles and the girth of his fingers and … damn it, how could one man be so … handsome? You had always thought of vampires as pale-faced, porcelain statue versions of humans. But he looked … rugged, and warm, and real. And pretty damn sexy.

“Do you have a preference?”

“What?”

With burning ears, you realized you hadn’t listened to a word this handsome stranger had said. He realized it too because he had that cocky smile again. “Don’t get distracted by my dashing looks, sweetheart,” he teased you, “This is important.”

You nodded numbly, still watching your hand in his. “I will take a bite at your wrist first,” he repeated gently, “Some people have a strong preference for where to bite and we find that it is a good test to see how you feel afterwards. I usually suggest the non-dominant hand but maybe you already have a preference?”

“No, uh, non-dominant is fine,” you murmured, holding out the hand in question.

Mr Vizsla did not look away from you though. His dark eyes were filled with mirth as he patted the spot right next to him. “Might be a bit more comfortable if you're closer,” he said and you looked down at the big space between your bodies. He was right, you knew that, but you also knew that your heart was not just racing because you were nervous to give yourself over to a vampire. No, you were pretty sure that the closer you got to him, the likelier you would be to embarrass yourself.

You really did not want to embarrass yourself.

Not even a second later, you could feel his thick thigh press against yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you wondered if he could hear it. It had been too long since anyone touched you and of course, it had to be at the most inopportune moment that you realized that.

“No need to be nervous,” he assured you, “If you feel in any discomfort if you want to stop for whatever reason, just say Geronimo and Steph is right there to punch me off you if you feel unsafe.”

“Steph?”

Who was Steph? All you could focus on was the sight of him gently cradling your hand and brushing his mouth over your palm. The touch was so gentle, yet so intentional, it made your thighs clench. His lips brushed over the inside of your wrist and your breathing stuttered. “Think of nice things,” he winked at you before his teeth sank into your skin.

An image flashed in front of your eyes. Nice might be the wrong words to describe it. You saw him – felt him, more like – bent over you, driving into you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, hands fisted into white sheets. It was warm, you were in the tropics somewhere, but that did not bother you. Because the man behind you fucked you so good you were crying, begging him for more and all you could see was –

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked, feeling dizzy at how violently you were pulled away from an idea that felt so real. What was that?

The dark-haired man still had your hand in his and you could see two little drops of blood forming on your wrist. It did not hurt, not really, except for a dull throbbing in your veins. You frowned, trying to clear your head of the image that had been so real for a moment that your body still craved being filled by … him.

“Good,” your voice felt hoarse and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. He had no business looking so devilishly handsome with his lips stained dark from your blood.

Your neck would be next, you knew, and immediately your mind was filled with pictures of you in his lap, closer than what was probably appropriate. Then again, it didn’t exactly seem like society’s rules were followed in this place.

He shifted in his seat, his legs spreading and your eyes involuntarily darted to the bulge hidden by his slacks. With the dim lighting, you shouldn't have been able to see anything but still, you imagined to see a very distinguishable something between his legs.

And then an idea popped into your head that you could not get rid of.

“Would it – would,” you swallowed again, trying to find the courage to ask what you wanted.

“What, darling?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick over the puncture wounds on your arms. You gasped at the feeling. Maybe someone should add spontaneous arousal to the side effects section of that pamphlet.

“Can I – Could …”, you stopped short, frustrated at how nervous you were.

“You want to straddle me?” he suggested his legs spreading the tiniest bit more and you could feel your core pulse at the sight of it. Shit. Fuck. Damn it.

“Is that very inappropriate?” you rushed out, “I am sorry, I don’t mean to put you into an awkward position and –“

“Hey,” he murmured, his hands on your waist gently guiding you to him “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, all right?”

You took a deep breath, “All right.”

His large hand was on your neck, gently cupping one side so you could rest your weight against it, offering him up all this space. There was faint music in the background and you could feel his breath wash over the sensitive skin.

Your breathing stuttered, your heart raced and you shifted closer to him, your core settling over his which made you even more.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your jawline, the tip of his nose over your neck, “It is like I can hear your thoughts from here.”

Your laugh sounded breathy even to your ears but before you could worry about how you wanted to make sure you were not being a nuisance; his teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck.

The images returned almost instantly.

This time it wasn’t him behind you in the tropics. This time it was right where you were sitting. But instead of straddling him, you were kneeling between his legs, your mouth wrapped around the girth of his cock. You were caged in by his thick thighs, you could feel the heat of his body at your shoulders, his hand at the back of your head, pushing and pulling you on his shaft.

Good fucking girl, he rumbled in your mind and you gasped out a moan. With a particularly deep thrust, he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes eager to find him even through the tears.

The scene morphed and you were somewhere else, wearing next to nothing. There were people all around you, club music pounding in your ears. You wore a mini-dress with an orange pattern looking like it came out of one of those retro shows. But that was not what you focused on, no.

You were on him, his cock nestled inside you as he faintly talked with other people and you were just there, moving in minuscule thrusts as he kept his hands on you, his mouth occasionally on your neck, whispering things you could not hear but knew were dirty.

Oh fuck. You wanted to pull away, feeling your pussy getting wetter. At this point, you would not be surprised if you had left a wet patch on his pants. But you would be really fucking embarrassed.

The burning in your cheeks made you want to jerk back, get off his lap and run away to move to the other side of the county.

Don’t, sweetheart, you will hurt yourself.

Your eyes flew open, seeing nothing but the dark corner of the ceiling. He was in your head. Was he in your head?

You are in my head?

His mouth did not leave your throat and his other hand landed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Right onto the growing bulge in his pants.

Believe me, that’s my first time, too, his voice sounded amused, almost, don’t stop on my account. I quite enjoyed the little picture show.

The hand on your neck spanned wide and suddenly he was tilting your head differently and your eyes fell closed, returning to the images in your minds – and in his, too, apparently.

Your hips started moving on their own accord, grinding against his prominent erection as you found yourself chasing a high you had not felt in a long time.

Fuck, sweetheart. You could faintly hear him groan against your neck and you bucked against him again, the pressure on your clit delicious. The hand on your back wandered lower, to your ass and with how you were moving against him, it was easy for his fingers to slip under the hem of your dress.

Please, Paz, you thought, your pussy aching when his calloused fingertips brushed the lacy edge of your panties before finding the wet spot between your thighs.

Come for me, sweetheart, his voice commanded in your hand.

Countless scenarios flashed in your head, each one more pleasurable than the last but all of them too quick to focus on one. Even if you had wanted to, you would not have been able to form a coherent thought as your orgasm crashed through you.

When you came back into reality, his tongue was on your neck, closing the wound just like on your wrist before. Your thighs felt uncomfortably wet and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Well, that was a first,” Paz breathed and you blinked, trying very hard to be present. The high you were still floating on came crashing down when you realized you were still sitting on his lap and you had just come in front of this, essentially, stranger when that had really not been the plan.

Fuck, you had to get out of here before he kicked you out. How could you have dropped the ball so badly on this?

“No movement,” his hand flexed your back, stopping you from clambering off him, “We don’t want you to get dizzy. Stay here for five-ish minutes and we will see how you feel after some aftercare.”

“A-aftercare?”

He nodded, his fingers brushing over your neck. “A mocktail and the pastry of the day,” he elaborated, “I think it’s croissants today. “

You really liked croissants.

“I am so ashamed,” you whispered, your eyes firmly fixed on his collarbone, “I am so sorry. I promise I will never come back. When Marylin explained donating blood, it didn’t sound like – I wasn’t prepared for –“

“Please do come back,” he interrupted you gently, fingers tipping your chin up until you had to meet his dark eyes, “It – What happened is rare. And I never heard of both happening at the same time.”

Your puzzled expression was enough for him to continue.

“Some people are more … sensitive,” his deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, “When it comes to feeding from them. And I have heard of the odd pair where there was a telepathic connection, but I’ve never – haven’t experienced either. There is no reason to be ashamed. Clearly, I was affected too.”

Your cheeks burned at the memory of that one image that you were certain your head hadn’t come up with.

“Though I have to warn you that if you do come back, I might ask you to be assigned to me every time,” he teased, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. When he spoke, his fangs did not seem all that prominent but would it be different if you kissed?

“I – I wouldn’t mind that, Mr Vizsla,” you admitted quietly.

He scoffed, “Call me, Paz, sweetheart, please.”

The arrival of the waiter interrupted any further conversation and Mr Vizsla (Paz) gently eased you off his lap until you were sitting right next to him. Although the movement was slow and minimal, a wave of dizziness still washed over you and you understood why he had kept you from fleeing.

“Drink,” he offered you the fancy glass and you took it. His arm was draped around the back of the booth right behind you and you felt both comforted and nervous by how close he was.

“Slow and steady,” he murmured as you gulped down the fruity mocktail. His forehead was almost leaning against your temple and you had to resist the urge to just … relax into him.

This felt like the best sex you ever had and yet this man was virtually a stranger. But there was no hesitation in his gentle touches as he offered you the plate with the croissant and there was no flinching on your part when he put his arm around your shoulders.

Was it possible to feel such deep trust in someone you had met only once?

His phone rang and you watched as he pulled it out of his pocket, the sizable screen dwarfed in his hand. A frown formed on his face and your smile fell.

“I am so sorry, but I need to go now,” he announced with a frown on his face. With you still sitting down, he seemed even bigger and you looked up at him with big eyes. Somehow, you had hoped that he would stay. That you could get to know him more.

“So soon?”

“I have to be home in time to feed the cat,” he replied.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, her name is Biscuits and if her dinner is late she will start killing any mice she can find and I will not spend my eternal life digging small gravesites.” As if to prove his point, he unlocked his screen and showed you a picture of the fluffiest cat you had ever seen. Biscuits seemed a fitting name.

“Will – will you be here next time too?” you asked before you could lose your courage.

“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “Remember what I said, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

[writingismyfortune]

prized possession | dan heng || honkai star rail one shot

published on october 22nd, 2023.

pairing: dan heng x reader

genre: fluff, with a sprinkle of jelly + possessive dan heng

word count: who knows at this point, but it is kind of short anyway.

synopsis: your boyfriend, dan heng, gets jealous over you talking with another guy that he doesn’t know. that’s the gist of it.

warning: lowercase is intended! there might be some spoilers if you are not caught up with dan heng IL’s lore. dan heng IL has me on my KNEES fr. i’m aware that “the guy that should not be named rn” and dan heng know each other. they just don’t know each other in this story.

it is a normal day in the xianzhou lufou, with the clear, sunny skies shining with glory.

along with a great number of cycranes soaring in the skies and the residents’ chattering the day away, xianzhou lufou is clearly a nation specializing in business. new ships arrive at the docks of xianzhou lufou as well, dropping off raw materials and such. starskiffs also does the same, picking up materials from xianzhou lufou and shipping them to a different places around the world. trade is one of the many reasons why the xianzhou lufou businesses flourish.

although it is the complete opposite in sclaegorge waterscape, a location that is a part of xianzhou lufou. this place is mostly secluded and not many people go here. however, it is a place that withholds xianzhou’s history. it is the place where dan feng was reincarnated into dan heng, the person he is now.

at the moment, dan heng is meditating near a pond in scalegorge waterscape, its own quietness and tranquility is pleasant to him. the sounds of water rippling from a nearby waterfall is also relaxing to listen to.

dan heng recalls how he and bailu explored many different parts of xianzhou lufou to discover more lore about dan feng, his past incarnation. he has to stand in the shadow of dan feng for the rest of his life, but he has come to accept this fact. it is something he can’t change, however, he is aware that he is his own person. this new revelation has unlocked a new perspective of his life. for once, he is alright with how his life is heading right now.

while he was meditating, he notices a familiar figure in the distance. or perhaps, he senses a similar feeling that he knows all too well. in other words, he is acknowledging their presence. when he opens his eyes and observes his surroundings, he sees you. however, you don’t seem to notice him yet.

why is that the case?

well, that’s because you were communicating with someone, that someone being another guy. someone that dan heng doesn’t entirely know. for some reason, he has a strong urge to protect you from this man, especially when this man is carrying a large coffin.

hearing you laugh because of what the unknown man has said caused an uncomfortable jab in his chest. seeing you smile because of another reason besides him makes him feel anxious and uneasy. he tries to meditate again to calm down his frantic mind, but the thought of you being with another guy makes him shake in his boots.

is he jealous? no way. he trusts you enough to know that you wouldn’t cheat behind his back. so why does he feel so tense when he sees you with this guy? he figures that it is one of your colleagues, but you two seem closer than that.

in fact, this guy is far more handsome than he is. with his luscious golden hair and his light green eyes. it’s only natural that he feels…anxious about this, right?

he’s afraid of losing you after all. he loves you too much to let you go.

and so, while you were casually conversing with this tall, handsome guy, you suddenly feel something wrapped around your waist protectively. looking down for a second, you see a turquoise-colored tail that you know all too well.

the guy that you were talking to was also astonished and confused by dan heng’s sudden appearance. he seems intrigued though as if he is aware that he knows who dan heng is.

looking back up at dan heng, you raise an eyebrow at dan heng. it’s like you’re silently asking him what is he doing, completely unaware of how tense he is right now. in fact, you are slightly taken aback by his sudden appearance as well since he just appears out of nowhere. you didn’t even hear his footsteps!

your guy friend introduces himself politely.

“greetings, kind sir. i’m luocha, a merchant from a foreign land.” he does a polite bow as well to express how genuine he is.

“you’re more than a merchant, luocha. your expertise on herbal medicine is fascinating.” you comment, a bit amused that luocha is actually introducing himself to dan heng. dan heng knows that you’re just being nice by praising him like that, but that statement made him a little insecure, deep down.

“you’re not wrong, i am skilled in herbal medicine and help those in need.” luocha chuckles, he nods in agreement. you only sigh and tell your boyfriend that you are helping luocha collect some herbs for pharmaceutical purposes.

dan heng slightly becomes less tense when you clarified luocha's statement. perhaps dan heng is still iffy about luocha, but he trusts you enough that luocha is telling the truth.

luocha then briefly tells you that he will see you later because he has some other matters to attend to. it seems like he knows that he is making dan heng uncomfortable for some unknown reason. he’s being considerate. in addition, luocha has a hunch that dan heng was silently telling him that you belong to him.

after all, he knows that vidyaharas are loyal, but territorial creatures.

when luocha leaves with his giant coffin, you also tell him your farewell. the grip from dan heng’s tail tightens a little, as if he doesn’t want you going anywhere right now. noticing this, you wonder why dan heng is so tense around luocha.

giving him a hug, you want to soothe his nerves. dan heng, a bit taken aback by this, immediately calms down when he feels your warmth and closeness.

you always know how to calm his anxieties. however, he is still insecure, but he decides that he will keep them quiet. he thinks that he shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it.

his tail wraps around your body in multiple ways, entrapping you in his tail like a warm blanket. his tail is always very gentle and comfortable to you. the end of his tail starts ticking your cheek. you can feel how fluffy it is.

dan heng hugs you back, but his arms hug you such a way that he is protecting you from danger, even though there isn’t anything dangerous in scalegorge waterscape right now.

it’s like he is telling others to back off, just like what he did to luocha. without you noticing, he was staring down at luocha in the most subtle way possible. perhaps that is the real reason why luocha left. but you wouldn’t know that, would you? he thinks that it is only natural that he wants to protect you because he cherishes you deeply. this isn’t entirely wrong, is it?

you are his. he is yours. makes sense, right?

“where did you come from, dan heng?” you ask dan heng out of the blue, he did just pop out of nowhere while you were walking around xianzhou lufou with luocha.

“i do come to scalegorge waterscape sometimes. after all, it’s a place that holds many memories of my past life. i just saw you with luocha while i was meditating.” dan heng explains. it makes sense. dan heng then tightens his hug around you, not wanting to let you go yet.

“do you know why luocha carries that coffin everywhere? who is in that coffin?” dan heng then asks you a question, a bit tense about what you are going to say. you raise your eyebrows at this question, not even considering the fact why luocha is carrying a coffin in the first place.

“you know, i never thought of that.” you said. dan heng looks at you with one of his eyebrows raising now, a bit surprised that you didn’t think of that. dan heng then looks a little cautious, his expression looks genuinely concerned.

“i have a feeling that luocha is more than he meets the eye.” dan heng says with a hint of caution. “you should just avoid him at all costs, [your name]. what if he hurts you?” he adds.

“well, luocha can also be a mortician, which is why he is carrying that coffin around.” you exclaim. that’s the most logical explanation, but dan heng is still tense about this.

he didn’t like that you are friends with luocha. he doesn’t even trust luocha right now. is he being understandably cautious or overly paranoid? whatever it is, he doesn’t like the idea of you hanging around with luocha.

“a merchant, a doctor, and a mortician? can someone have that many occupations?”

“that’s a fair argument,” you replied. rubbing your chin in thought, you think about other reasons why luocha would carry a coffin around everywhere.

“[your name], i think you should just stay away from him for now on. i don’t trust him.”

“now you just sound jealous.” you respond with a hint of playfulness in your tone.

“i’m not jealous. i’m just making sure my girlfriend stays safe.” dan heng says.

“sure, keep telling yourself that.” you said, your teasing tone clearly distinct in your voice.

dan heng sighs in frustration, realizing that he can’t really change your mind. maybe he is jealous, but would he admit it to your face? no.

“i’m not jealous, i swear.”

“are you sure? would you like me to provide evidence that led me to this conclusion?”

burying his face into your shoulder, his cheek gently nuzzles with the skin of your neck. his cyan horns are close to your face now, seeing how sturdy they look up close. his horns emit a soft turquoise colored light. it’s barely noticeable right now, but it is there.

“that’s not necessary. i am just afraid of losing you, dear.”

“so you are jealous?”

“good riddance.” he sighs again and his turquoise colored tail continues to embrace you warmly. his arms are still around you too. after all, this is a very comfortable position to dan heng. you are always a good person to hug thanks to your soft skin and your gentle nature. in fact, the hug becomes more firmer and gentle, as if he doesn’t want to let you go out of his sight.

lightly chuckling in amusement, you rub dan heng’s back softly.

“your response just revealed your answer, honey,” you said gently. good aeons, dan heng loves it when you refer to him as cute nicknames like that.

“it’s only natural that i want to protect who i love though.” dan heng retorts back. you hum in thought, knowing that is a good explanation.

you are a gemstone that is more precious to a diamond, a gemstone that outshines the other gemstones. you are the only gemstone he has eyes on. you are perfect in his eyes. he is lucky that he found you first.

you are his and he is yours.

no one else will take you away from him, and no one else will take him away from you.

after all, you are his prized possession.

end of one shot. next chapter: n/a