#so we waited outside for about 10 minutes and I had no expectation of how long it usually takes for him to come out and take pictures

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes – you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages – you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this precarious game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then—

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary; which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like– hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you, half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask, curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "...Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it – brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando – when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

“Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit– you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello–?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the—very real, very present—person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies – enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real – and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards – no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you, not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll; if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh– Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum; the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection. Something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude – one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time – comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[kxsagi]

𝟎𝟓. 𝐢'𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

you wake up tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, sleep still heavy in your eyes. the sunlight bleeding through the curtains is gentle, like it knows you're not ready for a full hit of reality yet. you reach over for your laptop on the nightstand, still warm from where you left it charging overnight. 

the notifications are already waiting – emails, youtube alerts, a few too many messages in the group chat. but you ignore them all at first and go straight to the comments. 

episode two of the saint ego doc dropped last night. the one with the behind-the-scenes chaos. the one with yukimiya’s SILK + STATIC shoot, all red velvet and champagne silk and that eerie kind of calm he carries like armor. 

you scroll through the comments, blinking sleep away as you read: 

@iheartsaintchaos: “saint ego behind the scenes is better than half the shows on netflix rn i’m so serious” 

@rinblockedmeagain: “yukimiya??? on that throne??? yeah i ascended actually” 

@freaklikeme: “this ep was so funny like the way bachira keeps appearing in the background?? little gremlin energy i love him” 

your lips twitch into a smile. 

the fans noticed the things you wanted them to – the warmth, the weirdness, the realness. the moments no PR campaign could ever stage. for a second, you let yourself enjoy it. you curl into the blankets a little tighter and read another five, ten, maybe fifteen comments. some of them mention you, too. 

@kaiserthighsappreciator: “whoever’s editing these deserves a raise the pacing is so good???” 

@saesb!tch: “you can tell someone who GETS them made this” 

you sit with that one for a bit longer. 

but the internet is the internet, and eventually the tone shifts. 

@mywalletcried4ego: “wish the doc showed more of the actual creative process. not just them goofing off” 

@karasucrowcore: “this feels like a PR move to make them look relatable lol” 

@tearsonlyyy: “idk the aesthetic’s nice but it’s all a little too polished for a ‘raw’ doc” 

you stop scrolling. inhale slowly. then exhale. 

okay. not everyone’s going to love everything. you knew that going in. you tell yourself the same thing you’ve had to repeat since day one: constructive criticism sharpens the work. haters sharpen nothing. 

you close the comments tab, resisting the urge to check again. it’s too early in the day to spiral. instead, you open your to-do list. a new post for the main account. promo for the next teaser. team call at noon. 

you crack your neck, stretch, and finally leave the warmth of your bed. outside the screen, the world is still quiet. but inside it? people are watching. talking. feeling. 

and that, at the very least, means you’re doing something right. 

you yawn, still half in bed when you finally open the group chat. 

saint ego 🖤 (182 unread) 

… great. here we go. 

you scroll up to the beginning of last night’s descent into madness.

it’s the next day and you were supposed to have the day off. 

but instead of sleeping in, doing a face mask, and romanticizing your life in bed with a matcha latte and silence, you woke up thinking about work. about tomorrow’s teaser post. about saint ego’s pop-up rehearsal. about how kaiser called you “wife” in the group chat and no one has addressed it since. 

your brain is a loading screen and your phone is still buzzing. so you do what any stressed-out girl with no self-preservation instinct does: you text a certain someone. 

now texting: reo 💴

you stare at your phone. you stare at the window. sure enough. black luxury car. reo in the front seat. aviators on. sipping something with a gold straw. like this is a vogue shoot and not your residential street at 10 AM. 

you sigh, protest about wanting to stay home and rot in peace, and he threatens to “swipe your debit card on something irresponsible” if you don’t get in his car within five minutes. 

so you never really had a choice. 

the café is so fancy you half-expect a cherub to float by offering you artisanal bottled air. a harpist in the corner plays an acoustic version of lana del rey. the table has three forks per person. there are plants in tiny crystal vases that probably cost more than your rent. 

“why are we here,” you hiss as reo orders for you without looking at the menu. 

“because you were spiraling, your pores are too good to be sad, and i needed an excuse to not answer emails for two hours,” he says, removing his sunglasses dramatically. 

you poke your drink – some lavender glitter foam monstrosity. “this looks like a bath bomb.” 

“and you look like therapy’s calling your name.” 

you stick your tongue out at him. he flicks your forehead with a manicured finger. “so. how’s the circus? and by circus i mean your gremlin band of semi-feral boy toys.” 

you choke on your drink. “reo–” 

“nope. not changing the subject. i want gossip. specifically: which one are you gonna let ruin your life first? isagi or kaiser?” 

you groan so loud the old lady at the next table flinches. “absolutely none of them. i don’t want a boyfriend.” 

reo lifts one perfectly groomed brow. “mm. you sure about that? because kaiser practically bit yukimiya’s head off just for breathing near you the other day.” 

you bury your face in your hands. “god, that– and don’t even get me started on isagi. we had this whole dumb kitchen moment the other night. he basically admitted to thinking about kissing me.” 

reo looks delighted. “kitchen moment? i need details.” 

“he– i don’t know. he came in all sleepy and soft after rehearsal and just… just said it. said he’s thought about it. thought about kissing me and then,” you flap your hands helplessly, “wondered out loud how much of me he’d ruin if he actually did it.” 

reo covers his mouth to muffle a scream. “shut up. shut up. that’s so disgustingly hot i hate men.” 

“yeah, well, congrats to him. i still don’t want a boyfriend.” 

reo tilts his head, suddenly quieter. “yeah, but… you like the idea.” 

you fiddle with your straw. the harpist transitions to sza and you think you might disintegrate from secondhand embarrassment and your own honesty. 

“it’s not that i don’t like them,” you mumble. “it’s… i don’t know. i don’t want to belong to someone. or have someone belong to me. i don’t want someone expecting things from me all the time. i can barely handle me.” 

reo hums. not judging. just listening, spoon twirling in his stupid expensive ahh latte. “so you’re scared they’ll want too much.” 

“or worse,” you sigh, “i’ll give too much.” 

reo’s eyes soften. then he flicks whipped cream at your forehead. 

“hey!” 

“sorry,” he grins, “emotions make me itchy. anyway. look at you, main character energy with two certified hot idiots fighting over you. my baby’s living the dream.” 

“my nightmare.” 

“same thing,” he shrugs. “just don’t forget: you owe them nothing. boyfriend or not. you’re the prize.” 

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. because he’s right. and because the stupid glitter drink really does taste like sunshine. 

“also,” he adds, dead serious, “if either of them makes you cry, i will drain their bank accounts, frame them for tax fraud, and leave them broke on a beach in malibu. i promise.” 

“you’re so scary.” 

“i’m so rich. did you forget i own their record label? mikage records, baby.” 

you both dissolve into giggles so loud the harpist side-eyes you mid-good days. and for a moment, the band, the doc, the tangled feelings – none of it matters. just brunch. just reo. just you, letting yourself breathe.

the studio is a mess (as usual). 

someone’s guitar pick is in your coffee. bachira is dangling upside down off the couch like a bat. shidou is playing obnoxious synth riffs at full volume even though rehearsal ended twenty minutes ago. karasu and sae are arguing about who breathes louder. rin is ignoring everyone, headphones on, face buried in the couch cushions. 

and you, you’re hunched over your laptop, triple-checking the teaser post for the pop-up show that’s happening way sooner than your anxiety agrees with. 

“you’re overthinking it again,” kaiser says from behind you. 

you jump so hard you nearly fling your fist into him. “don’t sneak up on me, someone else already did that in the kitch–” your eyes go wide as you catch yourself. 

kaiser being unaware, just laughs. the kind of laugh that makes your ears hot. the kind of laugh that probably makes your life more complicated than necessary. 

“it’s perfect,” he says, tapping your screen like he owns it – and you. “we’ll sell out in five seconds. relax, schatz.” 

“schatz?” 

“means treasure. in german.”  

you roll your eyes, ignoring the schatz part the same way you pretend to ignore wife in the group chat. “it’s literally my job to overthink it.” 

kaiser leans closer. you can feel him grinning. “speaking of your job… tonight. let me take you home after. on my bike.” 

you pause. slowly look up at him. 

he looks too pretty for this question to be innocent. blond hair half-tied, chain necklace peeking under his shirt collar, the kind of stupidly confident smirk that makes you want to throw your phone at him and also, annoyingly, say yes to everything he asks. 

“… fine,” you mutter. “only because i hate taking the train at night.” 

“whatever you say, prinzessin.” he winks. your soul short-circuits. 

but you catch it in your peripheral. 

isagi. 

standing by the mic stand, pretending to untangle the cord. eyes locked on you like he’s trying to burn a hole straight through your skull. 

he doesn’t even look away when you meet his eyes. no smile. no teasing. just this low, steady glare that makes your chest tighten because you know exactly what he’s thinking, and you hate how much of you wonders if he’d say it out loud again. 

how much of you he’d ruin if he tried. 

you blink, tearing your gaze away first. shove your laptop into your bag like your life depends on it. 

“don’t be late,” kaiser purrs at your ear. 

you mumble something that might be a curse or might be your heart, and leave the studio pretending you can’t feel isagi’s stare scorching your back all the way out the door. 

it’s stupid how warm the night feels. 

you stand on the curb outside the studio, bag slung over your shoulder, pretending you’re not checking your phone every ten seconds. pretending you don’t care that you look nervous. pretending you can’t feel isagi’s silent glare from somewhere behind the tinted windows. 

then you hear it – the low, rumbling purr that makes your chest flutter and your brain stop all at once. 

kaiser pulls up like he owns the street. helmet in one hand, hair a little messy from the wind, smile that’s all trouble and honey. 

“miss me?” he says, voice soft but eyes sharp enough to cut glass. 

you roll your eyes so hard you see your past life. “just give me the damn helmet.” 

he laughs – god, it’s so boyish when he really laughs. he slips the helmet onto you himself, fingertips brushing your jaw, adjusting the strap slow like he’s buying time. 

“tight enough?” he murmurs, so close you taste his cologne. 

“perfect,” you breathe. not looking at him. can’t look at him. 

he swings onto the bike first, then pats the seat behind him. “get on, schatz.” 

you do. carefully. awkwardly. legs bracketing his hips, arms hesitating, until he reaches back, grabs your wrists, and drags them around his waist himself. 

“hold tight,” he says, voice lower than it should be. “don’t want you flying off when i make you scream.” 

“kaiser–!” 

the engine cuts off your protest. he laughs, you feel it in your chest where you’re pressed to his back. then you’re moving: fast, weightless, city lights blurring by in a stream of gold and blue. 

you bury your face in his shoulder to keep the wind from stealing your breath. you think you feel him squeeze your hand where it’s locked around him. you think you hear him hum something under his breath, but the wind steals it before you catch the words. 

it’s reckless. it’s stupid. it’s him. 

and for a moment, it’s so easy to forget the doc, the drama, the stares, the way isagi’s voice in your head says he’ll ruin you first. right now, you just feel free.

he drops you off at your apartment building. the bike idling, his fingers brushing the hair from your cheek as he takes the helmet back, eyes flicking down to your mouth for a second too long. 

“good girl,” he murmurs. “you didn’t scream once.” 

“i hate you,” you lie. 

he smirks. “you will. gute nacht.” 

he’s gone before you can shove him off the bike like you want to. engine roaring down your street, taking your peace of mind with it. 

you’re halfway through brushing your teeth at 1 in the morning when your phone buzzes. 

now texting: kaiser 👎

your heart slams against your ribs before another buzz – 

masterlist | ch. 04 | ch. 06 (coming soon)

taglist (closed): @nensi @ro4love @avaxoxo13 @levisgoonerr @jnkosstuff @simpingmyassoff @sunsettsguitar @trinkets-of-time @cinneorolls @silverwings920 @mymeloreo @satorella @gkattdoesstuff @lovingmayday @pixelpancakes @vverie @nicfics @nevvynev @astro-3000 @mihyas-dieehefrau @i-eve-i @ohagiyoo @aadahyax @yumerinns @rie-cecooker @neeeooon @laylaandsstuff @irethepotato @byzantiumhollow @luvsymai @blu3-l0v3r @kiritokunuwu @anaxugoras @yxnnu @academiq @jaeyuuns @x3nafix @sukunaspillow @sasukevrz @anyaslittlepeanut @yunsspace @gurehai @chiieni @6riix @miiyabi @2ukika @ventivente @heartsforfeitan @kai-wavesii-blog @iqxatlantic

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[wlwsoccerfics]

The Tattoo(MapiXIngridXTeenReader)

Summary: you tried to hide a tattoo from your moms but failed.

You knew your moms said you needed to wait for a tattoo until you are 18 cause they really wanted you to be sure about this. Well you had other plans & didn't want to wait for two more years. So you got one of your friends who wanted to become a tattoo artist one day tattooed you. You got a little Shooting Star on your ankle. You were quite Happy with the outcome. Now you only had to make sure your moms wouldn't see the tattoo for a while.

Turned out this was harder then expected because your moms became suspicious of you when you started wearing socks around the house cause you never did that. "estrella fugaz(Shooting Star), why the socks around the house?" Mapi(your mami) asked you. "I might be getting sick, my feet are cold and i don't feel well." You told her, before your mami could say anything your mama almost leaped out of the kitchen to feel your forehead. " min lille kjærlighet(my little love), are you having a fever? do you need to lay down?" Your Mama(Ingrid) wanted to know. Feeling relief when she realized you don't have a fever. "Maybe a little nap will help!" You answered. Just glad to leave the situation without your parents finding out the real reason.

Your mama and Mami were waiting till you closed the door to your room before your mami spoke up. "Ingrid what happened to our little girl? She was acting weird. I miss the days where she sat on my shoulders playing airplane or Rollercoaster, giggling like crazy and yelling 'mami you are the fastest!' and now we have this 16 year old mysterious and grumpy Teenager!" She asked was almost pouting. Your moms had adopted you when you were 10 years old. You were always on the smaller side though. So when you were 10 you looked more like an 8 year old. Your Mama shrugged her shoulders. "Like you said Angel! She is a Teenager now! But she is a good Kid! I don't think she is hiding anything from us!" She replied. Oh If she only knew how wrong she was.

When your mama went to check on you she walked into your room since you didn't close the door entirely. "Are you feeling better, Love?" She asked. "I feel fine! It's nothing!" You Tell your Mama. "Okay. Why don't you take a shower then and Join me and Mami for a morning walk?" She suggested. You always went on morning walks with them so saying no wasn't an option. "I will be ready in 10 minutes!" You told your Mama. "Alright! We will be waiting!" Your mama replied and walked into the living room to your mami. "She is gonna join us for our walk!" Your Mama informed your mami.

You went to take a shower, humming one of your favorite songs gently. After 15 minutes you were still in the shower. "cariño! hurry!" Your Mami yelled out. You didn't hear her though. After a little longer you stepped out of the shower, dry yourself off, put on some clothes, only thing missing were socks. So you went to your room, which was outside of the bathroom cause thankfully you had your own bathroom attached to your bedroom.

You sat on your bed about to put on the socks when the door was pushed Open. You should have fully closed it. That was on you because if it would have been fully closed your Mama would have knocked. "kjære(Sweetheart), what is taking..." Your Mama stopped talking, her eyes went to your ankle. "Y/n Ebba Engen Cebrián! Is that a tattoo?!" Your Mama asked, she wasn't yelling but she was loud enough to make your Mami Show up. "What tattoo?" She asked your Mama. "Care to explain, y/n?!" Your Mama stated. "I am sorry, i love you both!" You tried to tell them. "Nice try. We Love you too but you don't get out of this that easy! Why do you have a tattoo that we told you not to get before your 18th birthday!?" Your Mami wanted to know. "I didn't want to wait! I know i shouldn't have! really i am sorry for trying to hide it from you? but it's not such a bad thing. I mean i didn't drink or do drugs. Just got a tattoo!" You told them. "You better didn't have done either or you will be grounded till you are 25!"your Mama replied, sighing softly. "Agreed! You still are in trouble for this! You are grounded for a week. you are going to practice with us, play the game & can be part of team stuff like dinners, but no friends and no phone!" Your Mami answered. You have just made your debut playing with your moms on the team. So at least you could to that. "Seems fair!" You didn't even argue and handed your Phone over to your moms. "Again i am sorry!" You admitted & looked at them. "Can i get a hug?" They both hugged you. Having a Family hug. "Of course love." Your Mami said, she wouldn't never deny you a hug. Neither would your Mama. You went on your walk together.

Turned out you didn't miss your Phone that much at all during the week. Being grounded was over quite fast. But you still wouldn't keep stuff like that from your parents anymore.

[maiyz]

a pearl

yuji x reader | masterlist

01: nice binder goob

you arrived at jujutsu tech in early february, it gives you about 4 months to plan an assassination of sukunas vessel, a first year student named yuuji itadori.

your tactical boots specialized in traction and protection crunch the winter leaves below you. its just about 6am, you woke up early today.

you plan out the killing in your head. come to think about it 4 months is a lot isnt it? you typically like making it quick and simple, although you have little experience in actual killing people.

perhaps bidding your time would be the best option. jujutsu tech is filled with many powerful individuals who would most likely kill her if they knew her intentions. your biggest fear is the 10 shadows user, he appears to have the closest relationship to sukunas vessel.

at around 7am she arrived outside the classroom, where gojo sensei would be waiting to introduce her to the measly 3 first year students inside.

“everybody!” gojo shouts at a volume way too loud for 7 in the morning. “we have a new student! give her a round of applause!”

sukunas vessel and kugisaki clap lamely while fushiguro makes no attempt to indulge in gojos acts.

you enter the classroom and bow slightly before walking to the single empty desk. “thats yn zenin! which puts the first year class at 4 students! hooray!” gojo shouts.

you have no intention on talking to the other students, or anyone for that matter. while gojo talks about paired missions all you can do is fight the urge to fall asleep, maybe waking up early was a bad idea.

“ok! we have an even number of students sooo…! were gonna do paired missions! nobara and megumiii in one pair and ill supervise yuji and yn!”

is gojo ever quiet.

oh, me and sukunas vessel?

thats good. i could probably kill him easily. what about the veil though? i surely wouldnt be let out if gojo is supervising.

well its still good to figure out some information about sukunas vessel.

you enter the car driven by gojo, the mission you were assigned to is a grade 2 curse in an abandoned hospital about 45 minutes away. you stare out the window on to the dense forest near the road.

the car stops before gojo tells you and sukunas vessel to get out of the car. you stretch slightly when getting out due to sitting for too long before starting to walk to the mission site.

gojo lowers his veil trapping you and sukunas vessel, hopefully he doesnt like. kill you or smth.

you walk around looking for a 2nd grade curse, checking the patients rooms, waiting room, the roof. although you just cant put your finger on where it is.

while youre looking, sukunas vessel keeps blabbering on and on, to the point where youre starting to tune him out.

he taps your shoulder which throws you off guard, causing you to step back away from him quickly.

“just trying to ask a question” sukunas vessel says.

i thought he was gonna kill me. he couldve just now.

“what.”

“why did you become of a sorcerer?”

theres a brief silence before you say. “its none of your business”

“thats fine, you remind me of fushiguro in a way! youre both very grumpy you know?”

after about a couple minutes of fighting with the curse you end up surviving the mission relatively unharmed, sukunas vessel took most of your heavy hits for you.

you and sukunas vessel end up both going to ms leiri for her expertise in reverse cursed technique. not that you needed it, you just tagged along.

you tagged along because you had to. not because you wanted to.

you, the other 2 firsts years, and sukunas vessel get treated to. revolver sushi. or something similar to that. you expected this is be a gun shop or maybe the name of a brand, not a type of restaurant.

“what you and kugisaki never been to a revolving sushi place? you have to go its so cool! its for the experience!” (ita)

“they dont have those where i grew up. revolving sushi is cheap isnt it? lets go somewhere expensive since gojo sensei is paying” (kugi)

“but i want it! its not about how expensive it is, its about the experience!” (ita)

“you say that until you get food poisoning.” (kugi)

“you agree with me, right zenin!??” (ita)

you shake your head in disagreement.

“see i told you! zenin agreed, were gonna get steak!” (kugi)

“when did zenin agree to get steak” (fushi)

“shut your mouth.” (kugi)

extra!

lol im so stupid instead of zenin i use ln frigg

can u tell dialogue is my least fav thing ever. ngl everything non smau is.mmmlol

my friend said i was the type to read ao3 and bl. i ask her hiw did she know what that meant and she was like. i have my sources. ok freak

i played volleyball and i hit it and it bounce onto my face or smth ow

my chromebook got power washed wuess by who. me. i did on accident my bad 💔✌️

took soso long for this I SPENT LJKE 2 weeks. next chapter in 6 weeks stay stuned

ok gn.

taglist! (0/50)

[kyehwas]

WAIT ft. lee chan

-> or, the random guy you met in the subway is really cute

wc + warnings || 1.1.k / fuck y/n's old roommate, gn!reader, hoshi the best matchmaker roomie, umm stranger danger guys? ||

You were going to escape your life. You worked minimum wage and lived with a roommate that hated you. You were over this.

In the heavy rain, you walk to the subway station. It's freezing outside, and you only have your umbrella protecting you.

The long dark hallways of the subway remind you how dull your life is. The subway you're taking is supposed to leave at 10 pm. It's…

10:01. Fuck. You slump on the cold tiled floors, trying to hold back tears.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice asks. You look up, and it's a man wearing a chain necklace, leather jacket, and a gray cap. “Miss your subway too?”

“Unfortunately. Do you know when the next one's coming?” The man sits next to you, and you wonder if today will be your last day on Earth.

“In an hour or so? My name's Chan by the way, but you can call me Dino.” He grins at you, “I was gonna go to the little dance studio I have and get some late night practice in, but I guess my plan's been foiled.”

“You own a dance studio?”

“It's not really mine, it's my parent's, but I go there all the time. What about you, why are you here?”

You should've expected him to ask the question. “Well,” You awkwardly chuckle, before explaining your whole situation.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” You shake your head, and Dino frowns. “Come with me then. I have room at my place and I could use a normal roommate.”

“We just met? How do I know if I could trust you?” You exclaim, skeptical of his suggestion.

“How do I know if I can trust you? I'm the one offering to let you stay with me, I promise I'm not a murderer.” He counters. You glance at the time again. 10:07 p.m. You killed some time talking to Dino, you just needed to spend 53 more minutes.

“I don't have anything in my bag except for a couple changes of clothes, my headphones, and a few toiletries. I couldn't kill you with my toothbrush even if I tried.” You open your bag to prove your words.

“I trust you, don't worry. I have a roommate though, his name is Soonyoung. We met through a dance competition, and he's really great. Don't be scared if he starts acting like a tiger though, it's normal for him.” Dino laughs, pulling up a picture of him and his roommate.

“Aw, you guys look so happy together! My roommate was a bitch, she never cleaned up after herself and blasted music late at night. I left her for a reason.” You scoff at the horrible memories from earlier, how she yelled at you and threatened to destroy all your stuff.

The rest of the wait time with Dino passed quicker than you'd thought. The disappointed tears you almost shed an hour ago were replaced with tears of laughter from the anecdotes you and Dino shared with one another. 

The subway had arrived, and the two of you looked at each other, each with a glint in your eyes. “I can't believe I'm really doing this,” You mutter as you step on the subway, finding a spot where both you and Dino could sit, “I never thought I'd run away from my life and live with some stranger I met on the subway instead.”

“Not just any stranger, a hot talented one,” He jokes, and you lightly nudge him. You felt your eyelids getting heavy, and you rest your head on Dino's shoulder as you doze off.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” Dino gently shakes you awake, “Our stop is in a minute.”

“Oh, really?” You rub your eyes, feeling the subway come to an abrupt stop. Dino holds his hand out and helps you get up.

“Just a lil longer, okay? My place is pretty close to the station.” You hum in response, and with your brain still focused on sleep, you don't notice that you're still holding his hand.

You and Dino are met at the apartment by a guy who you assume to be Soonyoung: “Dude, you were supposed to be here an hour ago? Wait, who's this? Lee Chan, don't tell me you-” 

“This is y/n. They need a place to live after escaping their shitty roommate, and I did not do anything with them, so don't even think about it.” Dino introduced you, and you had to stifle your laugh at Soonyoung's accusation.

“Hi, Soonyoung. I hope I won't be a bother to you, I need to stay here, at least until I find somewhere better.”

“You're fine, welcome in, new roomie! Call me Hoshi!” Soonyoung– er– Hoshi, shook your hand, and maybe you'd be fine.

It had been a month since you met Dino at the subway station that day, and you would be wrong if you said you hadn't developed feelings for him.

“I could tell,” Hoshi blurts, and you jump up, “Your crush on Dino is obvious.”

“Hoshi! Shut up, how do you know that in the first place?” You blush, hitting him on the upper arm.

“You're so obvioussss~” He drags out the last word, and his shit-eating grin makes you want to punch him in the face. “Go confess to him!”

“No way, I have no idea if he likes me back or not!”

“If who likes who back?” A third person added to the conversation makes your eyes widen.

“No one, we were talking about some mutual friends that have liked each other for ages but haven't done anything about it,” Hoshi states- wait, did he just say like each other?

“Hm, interesting. Y/n, do you wanna come run some errands with me?” Dino proposes, and you use it as an opportunity to end your conversation with Hoshi.

The place where you and Dino had first met. The place where you met the guy of your dreams. “We're back at the subway station.”

“We sure are.”

A pregnant pause.

“Y/n?” The mood shifts, and your heart starts beating faster.

You swallow dryly. “Dino?”

The subway comes at full speed, loud noises coming from the intercom announcing the stop and the subway stopping making it so you can't hear what Dino has on his mind.

“I think I might like you.”

“Huh?” You semi-yell, moving closer to him.

In the midst of all the passengers exiting and entering, he kisses you. It's soft, but gets his point across, louder than any words he could have used.

“I like you too.”

[tbgblr2]

Christmas Morning - Part 2

I sat there without moving for what seemed like forever trying to get my brain to process what just happened.   It was only when my husband shouted back upstairs asking if I was coming down did I glance at the clock and realise that 10 minutes had passed since they left the room.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, just want to dive into the shower first?”   the statement, after it left my mouth sounded more like a question, the final word coming out a much higher pitch than I expected.   It was then, as I heard my husband trudge up the stairs again that I cursed under my breath.

He poked his head through the door.  “You sure you want to go into the shower?  Can it not wait?  The little man wants to open his presents.”

I shook my head.  I don’t know if it was the look of shock on my face or whatever, but it must have been convincing as I said “I think I’ve had a bit of an accident, I want to get cleaned up.”

“Shit… sorry love.   OK you go do what you need to do and I’ll sort out some breakfast.  He can just watch cartoons until you get downstairs.   Don’t worry about the sheets, let me sort them later.”

I nodded.  “Thanks… love you!”

He smiled as he ducked his head back outside the door “Love you too!”

That bought me a few more minutes at least until I could figure out what was happening.  I swung my legs out of the bed, and did my best impression of a beach ball as I rolled myself over until my feet touched the carpet of the bedroom.   Hands down next to me, I heaved myself up and finally, I was upright.

That’s when the pains decided to hit again.   My knees buckled and my hand immediately dropped to the bed as I inhaled a breath at the unexpected tightening, my hand ended up slapping straight into the wet patch I had created earlier.   Once more I swore under my breath as I straightened up against all the signals my body was sending me, and I wiped my hand on my pyjama trousers.   I turned and took a step forward, bracing myself on the wardrobe as I pulled open the door, took out my dressing gown and tossed it on the bed, making sure to avoid the wet patch.

Another few deep breaths, somewhat loud exhales and I felt myself again, the tightening finally passing.

That must have only been 15 minutes I figured… looking over at the clock in the room and doing the mental arithmetic.   That can’t be good.   I had come to terms with the idea that the baby was coming, not much that I could do about it.   Now it was a panic to figure out if I could get to hospital or not.   Who would look after the boy?  I mean it was Christmas morning.  Its not like I could call on a friend, they would all be busy.

I busied myself taking off my pyjamas and throwing them into the hamper, and putting on my dressing gown.   The soft, fluffy fabric felt glorious against my skin, and – as we had bought it specifically for the pregnancy – it was wide enough that it could wrap around me and still fasten.

After taking another quick tug at the ties to make sure it was secure, I waddle out of the bedroom and across to the bathroom.   Closing the door behind me, I put the shower on and suddenly there’s another pain.   The whooshing sound of the water masked my voice as I groaned.  It was getting that bad that I couldn’t just breathe through this anymore.   There was a definitive feeling of fullness between my legs that wasn’t there from before.   I know they said that second babies came quicker… but this was just crazy.

I unwrapped myself from the robe and let it drop to the floor as I stepped into the shower.   The waters were thankfully warm, and – as I rested against the glass sides, my head pressed against the cool material – I felt my body relax as the water streamed over me.

Whilst I sat in the shower I lost track of time as I felt contractions pick up and drop off until suddenly I felt the need to push.   It came on so suddenly and unexpectedly I didn’t even know how to process the sensation and I screamed out at the top of my voice.

The reaction from downstairs was immediate.   I heard my husband rush up the stairs and suddenly he had barged into the bathroom.   His eyes took in the sight – I had my arms splayed wide, pressed against each side of the shower cubicle.   I was in a part squat, my knees spread wide and my feet as far as they would go in the confined space.   My eyes met his as the door swung open.

“The baby’s coming!” was all I could manage.   I wasn’t sure if he had figured that out, or not, but if not… I wanted to make it clear.

[riiwrites]

bsd men taking care of a cat

“Hello! Can I req for some headcannons about how Akutagawa, Chuuya, Fyodor, Sigma and Ada Dazai would react when their roommate brought home a stray cat? (They would be such cute cat dad's 😭)”

a/n : ofc u can! sorry for the long wait :(

fandom : bungo stray dogs

includes : sigma, dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor

all dividers i use belong to @/cafekitsune !!

masterlist | taglist | main page

SIGMA

• Sigma would just be minding his own business one day, doing something basic and essential like the laundry or cleaning while you were out shopping.

• He’d normally expect you to come in with a bag full of groceries and a big smile on your face, ready to tell him about what you had bought this time for him to try for dinner.

• What he didn’t expect however..was for you to not only do your basic chore of the day - but also bring in a fluffy little creature with its legs dangling as you hold it up in your arms.

• He’s a bit dazed for a second, eyes widening and his lips parted into a shocked 'o' shape as he tries to read what was going on in that head of yours.

• You both stand there for a few moments, the silence slowly turning awkward until you finally break it.

“Do you not like it?” You say with a pout. Sigma drops his washing cloth onto the table as he turns fully towards you.

“I mean..it’s a surprise.” He emphasises, a little chuckle escaping his lips at the end of his sentence. Your smile returns as you tilt your head to the safe, the little kitten coincidentally doing the same thing.

“Can we keep it, Sigma? Pleasepleasepleaseee..” You plead. He lets out a soft sigh at this, seeming unsure of what to do.

“Even if I had decided we could keep it, we don’t have the correct resources in order to properly care for it and we also don’t know what that poor things been through. It could carry all sorts of diseases!”

You gasp dramatically, cuddling the cat to your chest as you glare at your roommate from across the hall.

“Don’t say that to mittens..”

“You named it..?”

• After a while of your pouting and whining that lasted for about 10 minutes, he accepted the kitty with welcome arms.

• ..After it was given its shots and treatments.

• I believe Sigma is a fond cat lover when he gets used to having one around.

• He’ll bring it everywhere with him inside the house.

• He’d never let the cat outside unless it was in one of those cages..

• He’d get so worried if the cat were to leave home, even for a few hours!!

• He becomes so easily attached to the cat, it’s adorable.

“Y/N? Have you seen Mittens..?” Sigma appears at your side with a slightly worried expression, him fiddling with his fingers as he looks around anxiously.

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow, looking at his fidgety hands and then back at him. “I thought you had him with you?”

“I did..! I set him on your desk whilst I was working and the next minute I looked and then he vanished!”

He rakes his pale hands down his face, looking genuinely stressed for this little kitty you’ve both only had for a few weeks.

That was then, you heard the sound of a thud coming from upstairs. You both jump, Sigma having the worse effect of it since he was already on edge in the first place.

You both rush upstairs, Sigma behind you as you peak into your room ; nothing out of the ordinary, until Sigma taps your shoulder only for you to see Sigmas door a tad bit open as if someone had just slyly slipped through the crack.

You both peer into Sigmas room, only to be greeted with a sight that lights mostly Sigmas eyes up.

Mittens, splayed onto Sigmas king sized bed like a luxurious royal with a few knocked over picture frames that obviously had been caused by Mittens himself. But Sigma could only smile at the sight given the outcome that his- sorry, ‘our cat’ as he corrects, is safe.

“..I think you’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to this cat.” You say. Sigma only gives a mere shrug and a few embarrassed chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, not conforming nor denying that statement.

DAZAI

• I’m gonna be honest and say it - he’d be the one bringing the cat in..

• He’d see a homeless little kitty on the sidewalk and be like “Oh! you’re coming with me!”

• He’s like the classic stereotype of a cat lady who’s got thousands of cats living at her feet.

• So when he comes home with the white stray cat in his arms, you sigh.

“No.”

“What?! You haven’t even given me the chance to hear what I have to say!” He argues.

“I know what you’re going to say, Osamu, and it’s a no.”

“But..” He holds up the white fluff ball up to your face.

“He looks like Atsushi-kun..”

“…”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

• At this point you believe the cat takes care of Dazai more than Dazai takes care of the cat.

• Brings the cat to work at the agency with him.

•Everyone loves the kitty, pouting and stroking his fur as he purrs. Everyone loves him! (Especially Kyokua and Kenji <33)

• Although Kunikida scolds him for it because of how the cat spilled coffee all over his files one time.

• He could only glare at the cat as he licks his paws and meows.

• “..I can always buy more..”

• Dazais definitely the type to play pranks on the cat

• Like, place cucumber next to it so the cat can absolutely shit itself and he’d post it everywhere cuz he thinks he’s funny (Chuuya dislikes every single one and calls it animal cruelty)

• The cat however, doesn’t find him funny.

• Ends up with scratches littered across his face and some down his neck by the time he’s out of his bedroom.

“What the hell..?”

“Don’t..ask..”

Which is why you’re now in this predicament, patching him up in your bedroom.

You place a plaster on his nose, patting it gently before sighing softly.

“You bully that cat too much..” You state.

“Nuh uh! He’s the one that brutally assaulted me, why are you taking his side?”

“Alright let’s not go say brutally here..” You huff out a laugh.

He sighs dramatically, before you both hear a freak coming from your door, noticing the cat pushing through the door and slowly making its way in. Dazai glares.

“No, oh no you don’t..” He gets up slowly, backing away.

“Oh my god stop acting like a child, sit the hell down!” You exclaim, grabbing his arm and dragging him to sit back down.

He huffs and sits down, crossing his arms and looking away.

“I have nothing to say to you!” He says to the cat.

“He doesn’t care.” You say monotone, rolling your eyes.

He glares only until the cat jumps on the bed, strutting over to Dazai and curling up in his lap, purring and nuzzling into him.

Silence fills the room only until it’s filled by Dazais sounds of high pitched noise and kissing sounds.

“Ooooh..I’m just so sorry! It was my fault wasn’t it..? Yes it was..It really was..”

You snort a laugh, chuckling as you smile at the sight, taking out your phone to take millions of pictures to send to the agency.

CHUUYA

• So we know he’s more of a dog person, but..

• Y’know the type of person to be so against the idea but then immediately love the animal like it’s their child?

• That’s him.

“Why are you giving me that face??” You ask with a pout.

“What is it with you and bringing goddamn fleabags back to our apartment?!”

You scoff at Chuuya’s complaint, rolling your eyes as you hold the definite disease filled cat to your chest.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get fucking ringworm!!”

“We don’t even know if he has it!”

“So it’s a he now?”

You nod instantly, seeming so sure. That’s when Chuuya sighs heavily, grabbing his car keys on the kitchen counter and swiftly brushing past you and to the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Where are we going ya mean..we’re getting that damn thing tested and you’re coming with.”

You smile, nodding, but then stop.

“..You’re not gonna put him down are you?”

He squints his eyes and gives you a dirty look, grabbing the door handle.

“The hell? I’m not a damn monster, come on..let’s go.”

• Turns out the cat didn’t have ringworm, the cat was just rather dirty and needed a wash up and a new home.

• Oh, and turns out she’s a girl!

“I could’ve sworn she was a boy..” You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the cat now resting peacefully in the cage Chuuya you had bought for it.

“I knew it was a girl.” Chuuya states matter a factly, keeping his eyes on the road. You give him a glare.

“Oh shut up, just because you want a dog.”

“Hey, I could buy a damn dog if I wanted to, but no, instead I have to put up with your ass bringing back unnecessary things like rats off the street!”

“It’s a cat..”

“Whatever.”

• Around a few weeks later, you come home and your nostrils are flooded with the mixed smell of tuna and cat food, your nose bunches up in disgust.

• You head towards the smell, the living room and your eyes widen in surprise at what you see.

• Chuuya, who was currently sitting on the floor pampering the cat, whilst she had the higher ground by sitting on a pillow which was placed on the glass table you both had recently purchased.

You stand there for a few moments, head tilting as you blink in surprise, then a little smile creeps up on your lips as you let out a snort.

Chuuya instantly turns to his side with an alarmed look, then seeing it was just you his expression softens and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that..” He says with an irritated tone as he looks back to the cat, now stroking her face with the back of his hand.

“I cannot believe I’m witnessing this right now..” You say to mostly yourself, covering your joyful expression with your hand to try and not irritate Chuuya even further, which of course fails due to your snickering.

“Get that stupid look off your face now.”

You roll your eyes playfully, rushing over to join him in pampering your cat.

“She’s grown on me.” He admits, a small smile placed on his face. You also smile, nudging him playfully.

“So you had to buy the entire pet store?” You ask, referring to the clearly high priced items he had purchased ranging from toys to beds and litter boxes.

“Shut your damn mouth..” He mutters, but you could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle escape past his lips just once.

AKUTAGAWA

• Akutagawa isn’t a cat person.

• Infact, he’s not an animal person.

• Not that he doesn’t like them, just that he’s rather..inexperienced when it comes to taking care of a cat.

• Like Sigmas reaction, he’d be confused and more irritated with the fact that the cat you chose had a resemblance to someone.

Akutagawa froze in place, looking at you with an expression of slight shock. There you stand, with a delicate little ball of fluff in your arms. You beckon for him to come closer with a smile on your face, he hesitates for a moment before approaching, hand covering his face but as he got up close, the neutral expression melts to one of annoyance and exasperation.

“Must you have picked that one out of all of them..?” He questions, his arms crossed with a look of disgust placed on his face.

You smirk, holding up the bicoloured kitty in your arms and shoving it in Akutagawas face, with which he instantly turns the other way. You laugh.

“..You did this on purpose didn’t you..?” He questions again. You could only snicker as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

• At first, he lets you handle the kitty, almost like he’s afraid to touch it.

• Stands atleast a few feet away from you whenever it’s with you.

“Are you..allergic..?”

*cough cough* “Yes.”

• He infact, was not.

• However, you don’t let him escape this easily.

• One day, you decide to leave the kitten on his bed whilst he was still sleeping as you leave in the early hours to run your own “errands”.

• It’s safe to say, he wakes up with a fright.

• He let’s out an annoyed groan as he reads the note on his desk.

• “Spend some time with your son! Have to run errands, buhbye~ (￣▽￣)”

• He calls you.

“Hello?”

“You idiot, why would you do this?!” He exclaims.

“Uhh, why would I as a decent human being have to go run errands and keep our home life cozy?” You ‘cluelessly’ ask, biting back a smirk although he can hear it evidently in your voice through the phone.

“No because I know you don’t have any plans to run any ‘errands’ any time soon, what do you take me for some damn fool..?”

“Oh lighten up, Ryū! You never know, it might be fun!” You reassure him, pausing for a moment.

“..But seriously, I really do need you to spend time with him because I read somewhere cats can become depressed if you neglect them for so long, do you want our cat to be depressed, Ryū?!”

“…”

“Don’t answer that..just- haveagood time okaybyeee!!”

“Wait- Y/N!!”

• He ends up awkwardly staring at the cat for a while, before actually getting up and putting in atleast some effort.

• He has to google ‘How to take care of cats’ on your computer and even going out to the library to try and find some books on them.

• A few hours later you stand outside the front door, taking a deep breath as to prepare yourself for the wrath you’re about to receive when you walk through that door.

• But instead, you hear a cough from behind you and a quiet voice speaking.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re home.”

You turn around and your eyes widen.

Akutagawa, had the kitty attached to a leash. You stare, absolutely dumbfounded and shocked. Akutagawa looks at you with a confused expression.

“..Why are you looking at me like that..?”

You shake your head as you put your fingers on each side of your temple, rubbing furiously.

“Okay okay, pause..what are you doing with our cat?” You ask. He looks at you and blinks before responding, looking down at the kitten.

“Oh, well..I read that some animals, especially cats prefer to be outdoors than indoors, so I bought a leash and took him for a walk.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words.

“You..took the cat..for a walk..?”

“..Yes.”

“The cat..for a walk.” You say again, trying to get it through his head.

“..Yes.”

There’s a ring of silence for a few moments, before Akutagawa breaks it.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Cats are more preferred to go out on their own, not tied to a leash.” You explain.

“..Oh..is that why some people were given me strange looks whilst I was walking doing the street with him?” He asks.

“I suppose.”

He looks down at the cat, nodding slowly.

“Just..” You start, opening the door for you guys with a slight smile. “Come in, I’ll help you with untying him.”

He nods again, picking up the kitten gently and you notice that’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed him getting as close to touching him. Your smile grows.

He brushes past you as you open the door for him, he stops just as he enters and turns to you, hesitating to ask something, but then he does.

“Did I..do good..?”

Your smile grows once more, before carefully placing your hand on his head, which he flinches slightly, but doesn’t stop you.

“You did great, Ryu.”

FYODOR

• Fyodors not too fussed on having a pet.

• Although he believes some could be a distraction to his work and plans, he wouldn’t mind them all much.

• But, would probably not pay much attention to them..

• That is until, you put one in his lap.

“My my..” He starts, looking up at you and looking down at the little black cat placed on his lap, now pawing at his desk. “What have we here?”

“A gift, and one more problem for you to deal with!” You say with such happiness in your tone of voice, he had almost chuckled.

“Funny, truly.” He says with a slight smile. “But I won’t be putting up with such.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“I won’t care for it.” He says, referring to the cat. You gasp, furrowing your eyebrows as you glare.

“You’re joking?”

“Have I ever?”

You cross your arms, scoffing at him.

“I bought this just for you, you know? How ungrateful!”

“But, I didn’t ask you to buy this for me, did I?” He says with a smirk, your expression was baffled as you scoff again, slapping your hand over your heart.

“I’m hurt you know.”

He looks at you once more before turning back to his work, ignoring the cat who was still trying to paw at his desk.

You had a sour look on your face all day until the same night as you were walking to your room, you couldn’t help but hear a jingle of bells coming from Fyodors room? Curiosity grew in your bones as you slowly approached his room, peeking through the crack of the door.

There he was, jingling a little bell in-front of the same cat he had ‘claimed’ he was going to ignore with a slight smile on his face, actually seemingly enjoying the cats company as it leaps up with its paws to try and catch the bell.

You couldn’t help but pout as your heart melts at the scene, scrambling in your pocket to find your phone to capture this moment.

However, curiosity did infact kill the cat (you) when you open the photo app and look up, you notice Fyodor gone, and not only that, but he was now behind the door, poking his head around and looking down at your phone.

You jolt up, throwing your phone and covering your mouth with your hand, he smirks. You only glare.

• Soon after that, you had your phone privileges revoked and kept from by Fyodor.

• And surprisingly enough, pays attention to the cat more than you now.

• Always jingling some sort of key or bell infront of its face

• Always having it on his lap.

• At this point you believe he’s just doing it to annoy you.

• But in all honesty, you found it sweet.

• Fyodor had bought the cat an outfit, one that matched his, the hat and all.

“Y/N, come have a look at this.” He says, hand motioning you to come forward. You nod, standing up from your place on the couch and approaching him. You think he’s just going to show you his layout for his current scheme, but no.

It’s the black cat hearing a little shrunken sized version of Fyodors hat and coat and you melt once again.

“Ooohhh..Fyodor you have to give me my phone back so I can take photos please!!”

“Fine.” He says almost instantly, which you find odd at first but quickly brush it off.

You open your phone and open your camera and take lots of photos of the kitty, then going on the photos and scrolling through them until you see some you had never taken before..Fyodor had taken them. You smirk.

“So much for not caring for it huh?”

He merely shrugs, typing on his computer.

“He’s my new sidekick, you’ve been replaced.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you kick his leg.

“I pay the bills, stupid.” You retort, glaring.

“I cook, ‘stupid’” Fyodor shoots back.

The only noise that can be heard is his typing on his computer and you snarl, looking him up and down with daggers as the kitten meows, nuzzling it’s cheek against Fyodors cold hand.

“Yes, i know malen'kiy kotenok (little kitty), they are rather annoying are they not?” He says to the cat, you narrow your eyes.

“Ew.”

-

@/riiwrites - reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤︎︎

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

10. where are the drinks bitches!

before coming into college, you never thought you’d have time for parties in general. you thought volleyball would consume your life and it did, but now that you were injured, you had a little more freedom. going to parties was never your type of vibe, but it was fun going every once in awhile. meanwhile, mark and his friends were upstairs playing beer pong and messing around.

“you fucking bitch! i made the shot fair in square!” haechan whined, as he threw his arms in the air. “we’re doing eye to eye first stupid.” jaemin yelled back.

there was a lot of chaos going on upstairs. mark was just drinking his beer and watching his friends goof around. his life finally felt at peace. he had nothing to worry about. basketball was going extremely well, his friends were joyful, and things were good with you so far.

“where the hell did winter go!” you were practically yelling because of how loud it was. music was blaring into your ears, while people were dancing and socializing. “i think she went upstairs!” karina looked like she was trying to have a good time, but bodies were starting to get pressed up on you and her. “let’s get out of this mess, yeah?”

you and karina made your ways upstairs and lo and behold, there was winter with some boy near the beer pong table. you walked up to them and winter immediately embraces y’all. “there you guys are! let me introduce you to my new friend haechan! he’s the best guys.” winter was pretty much slurring on all her words.

“wait aren’t you the guy that keeps replying to my tweets..” the boy just chuckled, but he had no shame. “that’s right! lee donghyuck at your service, but you can call me haechan. i am notably known to be the manager of the basketball team and the ladies love me!” you couldn’t help, but awkwardly laugh at his introduction. you knew he was friend’s with mark, but you didn’t see mark anywhere yet.

“honey, if you’re looking for mark. i’m sure he’s here somewh-” you turn your head and see mark on the couch, talking to mina with his hand on her waist. they looked like they were enjoying each others’ company. the last thing you heard was that they weren’t seeing each other anymore and that was coming from mark. you were confused and kind of hurt that he lied to you. you quickly shook it off, as you were starting to feel uncomfortable. you turned back to your friends and haechan, who were waiting for your reaction.

“let’s get this party started! where are the drinks bitches!”

after a few shots and a couple drinks go by, haechan decides to pull a few people to play seven minutes in heaven. you weren’t really excited to play, but you were too out of it to go do something else. your thoughts got interrupted when the first bottle spin lands on you.

“looks like yn got picked! now, who’s the lucky person gonna be!” haechan spins the bottle again and it felt like all eyes were on you. you could feel everyone’s eyes piercing through your skull. you were watching intently too, hoping not to get some weird g-

“would you look at that! it’s mark lee! okay you two, head into the room and get your freak on for seven minutes!” everyone cheered, while you and mark were basically shoved into some random room. you and mark just awkwardly seated yourselves onto the bed.

“so.. i wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.” mark softly chuckles, while he scratches the back of his head.

“yeah, me neither.” you dryly reply, as you were looking for some way to escape.

“look we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. i promise i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” “i know mark.” things were getting a little awkward between you two. the silence was so deafening that you could hear the conversations going on outside of the room.

“is everything okay? i swear we were literally good yesterday.” mark was trying to find some sort of way to meet your eyes, but you wouldn’t budge. “i’m fine mark. don’t push it.”

“look, i’m not the guy that everyone makes me out to be. i’m a good guy, yn and i just want us to get along. i know i don’t have the best reputation, but everyone doesn’t know who i really am. i don’t really like the spotlight being on me. i’m just constantly in it.” mark was pleading for any response from you. you hadn’t noticed it, but he had inched closer to you.

you felt for mark. you understood how he felt. no one should have to go through something like that. maybe mark was different. you were just too scared to let him in.

“i promise you, mark. there’s nothing wrong with you. i understand how you feel. i’m just scared. people have done me dirty in the past and i’m scared you will too.” you were looking down at your hands, like you were always doing. fiddling with them always gave you comfort

“just let me in, yn. i’m not going to hurt you.”

“but how do i know that..” you wanted to believe mark, but your past tells you that you shouldn’t trust him.

“i promise, yn. i’m not here to hurt you.” you hadn’t realized it, but mark had cupped your face and lifted your head up to face him. you looked into his eyes, down to his lips, and back up at his eyes, while mark’s eyes were following yours. you did not know what you were feeling, but your body was definitely not listening because you were leaning into mark.

“OKAY 7 MINUTES IS UP! COME ON OUT!”

previous — m.list — next

notes. happy valentine’s day everyone! for the special day, y’all get an update haha 🤍

taglist. open! @mmjhh1998 @haluenx @urlocalbeaner5 @cloudmrk @dudekiss3r @iluv7tn @jae-n0 @kikookii @remgeolli @lyleo @wumutititititi @kittydollzz @nctdreamchaser @kodasity @sibwol @worldwidecutiemaya @bbykaixx @luvsooby

[sectumsempraaa]

Let the Right Girl In

Pairing: loser!Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Based on this request! Thank you :)

TW: use of fake/artificial blood and fangs, kissing

Summary: After months of secretly craving your attention, your friend Draco Malfoy finally finds the courage to overcome his crush-driven nerves by inviting you to the Halloween party of the season at Malfoy Manor. What he doesn’t expect is how quickly you turn it into a date at the suggestion of a seriously iconic couple’s costume.

A/N: There are of course some direct quotes and references from “Dracula” in this fic. It’s all very obvious with just a super basic knowledge of the story. No further research necessary :)

.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Move, you bloody oaf!” Draco yells as he shoves a third year Gryffindor into the nearest wall, hastily making his way down the corridor to Transfiguration class. Any class he shares with you is his favorite, but today is different. Today he’s extra eager to arrive early to grab a seat next to you.

Usually he waits outside the classroom until you’re about 10 feet away, stealing you away from whoever holds your attention at that moment. His confidence glows, but underneath are a thousand nerves, each one sparking like fireworks when you arrive.

Most people can’t get under Draco’s skin, but you aren’t most people. This boy has had eyes for you longer than he’d like to admit, and he’s spent each day of it absolutely craving your attention. In fact, it’s become sort of a game for him. Devising ways to bump into you, manipulating teachers to partner you on projects, whatever it takes to get even just a glint of eye contact, a brushing touch, or a subtle laugh from you.

And the fact is, none of it is for show. The payoff for him is the prolonged, palpable thrill that lingers from even just a fleeting moment with you.

Draco’s parents have decided to host a lavish Halloween party at the manor this year and the minute he caught wind of it, he was dead set on you attending. Hundreds of fancy invites have been created already, yours being the first delivered, of course.

McGonagall gives Draco a curious eye, suspicious of his unusual timeliness. “Class is not yet in session, Mr. Malf-” she stops abruptly, her attention turning to you in the doorway. She looks between the two of you, a knowing smile grows on her face as Draco’s unwavering stare follows your every step. He couldn’t blink if he tried.

“Hi, Draco” you greet him in your soft, bright voice. The sound of his name on your tongue sends a jolt of adrenaline through him, struggling to produce a coherent response.

“Precious, precious Y/L/N,” he responds, his heart quickening as you set your books down next to his own on your desk. He swallows, trying especially hard to maintain his cool facade. “Feel like being neighbors today then?”

You sit down next to him, smoothing your skirt out underneath you while doing so. You scan him up and down, making him wonder… are you… checking him out right now?

“Hmm, well I always did have a thing for the boy next door.” You joke, nudging him with an elbow. Your response alone is enough to break his brain, enough that he has to tell himself you were just playing around. He readjusts his focus, reminding himself of the task at hand.

“Then I suppose it wouldn’t be too difficult for you to find your way over, then?” he asks, extracting the invitation from inside his robe and presenting it to you, your intrigued features quickly relaxing into an excited grin.

The way your hand grazes his while accepting the card could have added years to his life. His gaze worships you, morphing into tunnel vision the longer you inspect the invitation. Your eyes note the black and orange borders and the lovely cursive handwriting that could only belong to Narcissa.

You look up to him, his breath still as he awaits your answer, the anticipation rendering his mind blank.

“Do we get to wear costumes? Or is this one of those classic Malfoy functions that requires classic Malfoy attire?” You inquire, each word drenched in playfulness.

He fucking loves riffing with you and pushing each other’s buttons. As long as you’re talking to him, it doesn’t matter. You could be publicly berating him and he would relish every single second.

“Costumes required, actually. But that won’t be hard for someone who already resembles an angel,” he says, resting his temple on a fist. To this, you break into a fit of laughter. He can’t help but notice the rosy hue developing on your cheeks, the way your eyes crinkle and your nose scrunches.

“An angel?! How positively daft,” you tease, shaking your head. He could have sworn you started to reach for him in your bout of giggling. “No, I’ve got a killer idea.”

He is just dying to know what you have in mind, his thoughts swimming with fantasies of you in his home, all dressed up. But it is quickly cut off by a room full of loud students and a yelling McGonagall, a sigh of frustration emitting from him. He’ll spend the rest of class imagining you in a range of costumes- cat, inmate… bride? Yeah, that’s his favorite one.

He watches you slip the invitation behind the cover of your textbook for protection. You throw him a wink, and it damn nearly kills him.

—

Not a day goes by where he isn’t secretly praying to fast forward to Halloween. Countless times now he’s imagined you meeting his parents, introducing them to his most favorite person. That is, until today.

Lately, Draco’s been deprived of your attention, shying away from fear of bothering you. Honestly, he is still recovering from his flirtatious interaction with you in McGonagall’s class, repeating and analyzing every sentence in his head over and over.

As he’s walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, he approaches the table and notices a book lying where he normally sits. Probably some delinquent student forgetting their belongings behind.

But as he gets closer, he’s hit by a wall of your perfume, a mist of orange blossoms and vanilla filling his senses, indicating your very recent presence. The fragrance causes him to look around for you, a burst of butterflies erupting in his chest as he finds your stare already on him from a few tables over.

You nod in the direction of the book at his place setting, urging him to take a peak. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard to break away from your entrancing eye contact, the boy desperate to keep your gaze on him as long as possible.

He manages to glance down, expecting a textbook or something he’s already read. Instead he reads the title aloud, his Slytherin friends listening in as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Drac-ula? What is Dracula?” he asks to no one in particular, a hint of attitude in his voice. Pansy giggles, being in on your idea previously. She reaches across the table and opens the cover for him.

“It’s a famous muggle story, you git. A bloody good one, you could say.” She and Blaise smirk to each other in pride of her pun, but it earns no response from Draco. She turns the page for him again, this time revealing an illustration of the pale man with his fangs sunk into the neck of his damsel-like counterpart.

Draco’s eyes grow wide, the realization finally settling in. He jumps as you suddenly appear behind him, talking over his shoulder on your tippy toes with your hands on each of his upper arms.

“You already have half his name, and his personality,” you start, huffing a laugh to yourself. His eyes still linger on the drawing as he turns slightly towards you. “I figured you’d be perfect for the part.”

“And you?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his voice just barely shaking, his features softening at the sight of you. You caught him by surprise and now he’s a melting mess, your glow slowly hypnotizing him.

“Darling, we’re both in that picture.” You respond, throwing him another wink and a playful hiss before walking away with your friends. His brain can barely register this information, requiring a minute to fully process your idea.

Theo pokes fun at Draco as the gang gets up to leave for class. “Dear god, I’ve never seen it this bad. It’s like we’re not even here!” He sneers, snapping his fingers in front of Draco’s face, but to no avail.

Draco whispers to himself while scanning the illustration again, unaware that his housemates are in listening proximity. “It’s a couples costume. She wants to do a couple’s costume… with me.” A small smile forms on his face in the aftermath of your conversation.

“You ought to save that devilish smirk for your upcoming role,” Pansy jokes. He stows the book away in his bag and decides to skip his first class, opting to read the book that made you think of him, instead.

—

Draco stands utterly still, completely in awe, taking a mental picture of the image before him: you, sitting on his bed in his home. His actual real life home. He’s not sure if it’s disbelief or amazement or general arousal but it’s safe to say there’s a healthy mix of each.

You had brought over everything the two of you would need for your costumes, the nature of yours nearly sending him over the edge already. Normally, he’s praying for just a glimpse in his direction in class, but today, there’s no one else here to distract you from him.

“Come here, lovey,” you say, coaxing him over to you as you lay out the makeup and supplies on a small bedside table. He nearly falls over at the nickname, attempting to build his cold walls back up, but the blush on his cheeks says otherwise.

He sits on the edge of his bed facing you, and you notice how unusually quiet he’s been since your arrival. It’s hard for you to imagine the Draco Malfoy being… anxious?

You approach him, leaning slightly between his legs to get a better vantage point of his face. It takes every fiber of his being not to glance down to your cleavage, the Victorian style dress you’re wearing putting it on full display.

You run a hand through his hair, admiring his features as he looks up at you with eyes full of pure adoration. A slight pause has you realizing how truly weird this is- the coldest boy in school, the Slytherin prince himself, inviting you over to the privacy of his house, giving you the grand tour, letting you set up shop in his childhood bedroom.

Most people aren’t even granted permission to speak to him, and yet here you are, finally coming to the conclusion that… you really aren’t ‘most people.’

He let you in.

“Open your mouth, boy.” Your voice sultry, a teasing smile adorning your face as you place a hand under his chin, holding it in place. His body could ignite right now with how hot his skin is from your touch. He’s not sure he was ever prepared for this level of intimacy with you.

He parts his lips, granting you access inside. Suddenly, your fingers are in his mouth, working on attaching a set of fangs to his teeth. Is this real? Is this happening? How are you so comfortable right now while he’s silently screaming inside at your mere presence?

The limits of his self control are being brutally tested, something he didn’t foresee being an issue today. Electricity shoots through his body as the taste of you grazes his tongue. You can’t help but notice how perfect his lips are, how soft and supple they seem.

Your eyes go wide as the fangs click into place, something wild sparking within your stare. He notices and gives you a look tinged with intrigue.

“This may have been a very bad idea,” you joke, a hint of bashfulness lacing your words. “I didn’t realize you’d make such a handsome vampire.”

His grin grows instantly, his confidence rising ever so slightly as you share your vulnerability. His eyes still shine up at you with sheer infatuation as your posture caves in a bit, bringing your faces closer together.

It’s quiet for a moment as he lets you take him in. The weight of his kindness, openness, and hospitality is all starting to make sense. On top of that, there’s something quite serene about seeing him in this environment, one where he’s fully himself. The volume of your voice lowers to a shadow of a whisper as your hands clasp behind his neck.

“I need you to do me a favor, Draco.” It is incredibly difficult to keep his focus on anything but your lips and how little distance there is to his own. But he’ll do anything he can to keep his chance with you alive and well.

“Anything, doll.” He responds, sitting up straighter.

You reach for an item on the table and place it in his hand, his head barely registering anything outside his immediate concentration on you.

“I need you to make me your Mina.” His heart nearly explodes at the request, his every desire begging him to crush his lips onto yours. He looks from the illustration in the open book on the table down to the container of fake blood in his palm, a smirk thrown your way as he understands what’s coming next.

A hand on your waist catches you by surprise, the pressure guiding you to sit down on his thigh. Before you know it, he’s the one towering over you now, his arm secured around your waist to keep you balanced on his lap.

Don’t be fooled, he is still absolutely racked with nerves. But the girl of his dreams is sitting on his lap, and god damnit if he’s going to let this opportunity pass without making the most of it. He can be brave for you.

His hand makes its way towards you, the deep red substance dripping onto your dress. Your hand finds his back, gripping the material of his white ruffled shirt tightly in your fist. “Tilt,” he requests, needing more access to your neck. You do as asked, resting your head on his shoulder to expose more skin.

He wasn’t expecting you to do this, but god he’ll take it. In a swift motion, he lifts your legs over both his thighs now, giving you both maximum stability. The breath from your small laugh into the crook of his neck gives him chills, his eyes closing for a moment to relish it.

The hand around your waist lifts higher to gather your hair, laying it neatly behind your shoulders. The next thing you feel are his fingers dragging their way across the side of your neck, painting your skin with care and intention. Each stroke makes its way lower and lower towards your chest, the thumping of your heart picking up each time you feel him slide over you.

“Mind if I…?” Draco prompts, gesturing the packet of fake blood itself to your neck. “I’m feeling quite committed to the theatrics.” To this, he earns a joking eye roll of approval from you.

You adjust yourself on his lap, causing his hand to slip down around your hips. Whatever it takes to just keep you here forever seems necessary to him. His heart may be racing, his muscles aching from making sure you’re comfortable, but this is all he’s ever wanted.

You are all he’s ever wanted.

You feel the red liquid cascade down your neck to your chest, seeping into your cleavage, some of it staining the bodice of your dress. Just enough to make it look like a real vampire bite, without being excessive.

“You know,” you breathe, lifting your head to meet his stare, your noses practically touching. “There is one way we could make this… really convincing.”

Draco searches your eyes and for the first time, he finds the same unfiltered longing staring back at him. A needy, pulling desire fills the remaining space left between you. Your hand finds its way to the base of his neck, a slight pressure not unlike the one he used on you before.

“If… if you want, I mean.” Your bit of embarrassment lingers on your cheeks. He smiles, repeating his sentiment from earlier while his hand snakes its way underneath your knees, pulling you even closer to him.

“Anything, doll.” He replies, and this time you know he means it in every sense of the word.

Your hand applies the same pressure again, guiding his face to your neck, and from here he needs no further instruction. You feel the soft yet hungry impact of his lips on your neck, sucking on your skin lightly, his eyes closed as the vampire himself does what he does best.

A sigh escapes you, your fingers curling in his hair as his tongue enters the mix. His movements become more fervent as your response intensifies with each kiss. You let out a tiny yelp as you feel the fangs poke your skin, a mix of pain and pleasure enveloping you as his laugh graces your neck.

He quickly pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. “Sorry, love. Got a bit too into character there, didn’t I?” He winks, his head spinning from it all. You glance down to the mess of red displayed on his chin, admiring the work of art.

“No, it was perfect. You’re a spitting image.” You state, nodding to the book’s visual aid you were using to create this look. You both giggle, observing each other up close.

“And you, my Mina.” Draco tucks a stray hair behind your ear, beckoning you to him again. As the fake blood dries on his skin, he takes one last look in your eyes before you decide to be equally dedicated to your role. Your voice lowers to a mutter, your breath entwining with his.

“I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips.” He pulls back at the phrase, the realization hitting him like a vivid flashback.

“Chapter three.” He declares, earning a dropped jaw from you. He really read the damn book.

Within seconds, your lips are on his, his response having won your swelling heart. His hands travel around your waist, exploring every inch of you. His whole world seemingly shatters and mends itself as you get lost in each other.

Your lips dance together in a passionate, breathtaking crescendo. Your tongue slides in, claiming his mouth as his hand lifts up to cup and support your cheek. The urgency calms, settling back into a gentle, tender kiss. A kiss so painfully soft, it acts more as an expression of his intentions with you, pointing to a time where this was all but a day dream to him.

“Shall we?” He asks, gesturing his head towards the door. You smile, reaching for the last bit of his costume: a black velvet cape. You lay it around him, snapping the clasps together in the front.

He dives in for one last kiss, tugging your lower lip with his fictitious fangs, causing your hands to land on his chest.

“You know, I think I’m rather fond of these.” He says as he helps you off his lap back to your feet. He scans you up and down, drinking you in.

“Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would beg to differ.” You joke, letting him spin you around, hooking an arm through his as you walk to the top of the stairs that lead down to the main hall.

You two make your way down the stairs, the guests turning in your direction in awe as cameras flash and fingers point at the prestigious Malfoy son and the beautiful girl on his arm. Draco stops abruptly on the last stair, giving you a blank, anticipatory look.

“What’s wrong, dear?” You whisper, a shadow of worry following your voice.

“You have to invite me in.” To this, you can barely control your immediate bout of laughter, your hold on him growing tighter the harder you laugh.

When you both finally come down, you release your arm from his, stepping in front of him. The crowd went eerily silent, enticed by your dramatic entrance.

Your black-gloved hand reaches out to his as you both put on a show for the entranced guests. He takes it and kisses the back of your hand, a small smirk displayed for your eyes only.

You oblige to his request, the pitch of your voice lying somewhere between innocence and a dark, desirable knowing.

“Enter freely, and of your own free will, my darling.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[strawb3rryg2l]

How to Lose 'Bob' in 10 Days, Part 4

Characters: Bob x Y/N, Robert Reynolds x Y/N, Sentry x Y/N, The Void x Y/N

Summary: You thought you'd lost, your husband, Robert Reynolds forever. Consumed by the Void and the chaos it left behind. But then you woke up in a world not your own. One where he's alive. Where he goes by Bob. Where he doesn't know you. To him, you’re a stranger. You have 10 days to lose him, before everything falls apart. But the cracks are already forming. Time stutters. Reality bends. And something followed you here, something made of grief, memory, and everything you refused to let die. As you try to lose Bob in 10 days, the world unravels with every lie you tell yourself. You’ll have to make an impossible choice: hold on to the man you love, or face the truth and finally let him go. Because if you don’t... this world won’t just end. You might go with it.

Word Count: 2,479

Warnings: A dark twisted version of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, spooky, creepy, crying, grief, loss, Spoilers maybe? (Please let me know if I should add anymore.)

Note from the author: This is my work, and I will be posting on here and @ strawb3rrygal on Archivesofourown. Keep in mind these are my ONLY TWO accounts. Please feel free to reblog if you like it! I've been working on this one as I write my other fic 'The Temp' which you can also check out if you'd like.

New here? Go back in time -> Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

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They met outside a tiny bagel shop in the East Village. The kind of place that had “Cash Only” written in Sharpie on yellowing tape, and a guy behind the counter who shouted, “Lox is love, Lox is life!” every fifteen minutes like it was scripture. The place smelled like burned sesame seeds and boiled onions. A rat skittered somewhere behind a recycling bin.

Bob was already waiting, arms crossed, dressed in all black again—black coat, black jeans, black hoodie peeking out like an omen. He looked like a slightly-less-broody NYC tech guy who’d seen the abyss and decided to code it into an app.

“You’re late,” he said, crooked smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

“I had to pick up something important,” she said, and handed him a Build-A-Bear in a tiny tuxedo.

“Meet our emotional support child. His name is Mister Cuddles.”

Bob blinked once. Took the bear like it might be explosive. Gave it a once-over like it was evidence in a crime scene.

Then, deadpan: “Mister Cuddles has your eyes.”

Damn it. That was supposed to be too much. But Bob didn’t flinch. If anything, he cradled the bear more gently than expected, like it meant something.

They ate everything bagels on a sticky bench in Tompkins Square Park. A pigeon stared them down like it had unfinished business. Halfway through her cream cheese monologue (“You have to toast it exactly 90 seconds, otherwise you lose the spread-to-bread ratio and then what’s the point of living?”), she dropped the bomb.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “We should move in together.”

He paused. Chewed. Swallowed. “You snore?”

“Violently,” she answered.

“Cool. I’ll get earplugs.”

She stared at him. “Do you… like chaos?”

Bob shrugged. “It’s New York. You have to.”

By Day Six, she was running out of red flags. Nothing worked. Not the fake spiritual awakening, not the red sock sabotage, not the sobbing in Chelsea about a melting swan ("It reminds me of the transience of connection!") or mailing herself love letters signed “Yours in every timeline, Bob.” He didn’t run. He laughed. Worse—he seemed to like her more.

So, she changed tactics.

The haunted walking tour in the West Village was meant to unnerve him. Not because of the ghosts—but because of what they might stir up. She wore her favorite coat, the one that hugged her like a memory, and walked beside Bob through the chilly fog that settled over the cobblestones like a shroud.

Bob showed up in a beanie pulled low and a black wool coat, looking like the ghost of a heartbroken poet. It annoyed her how good he looked in the fog.

“You believe in ghosts?” she asked, stuffing gloved hands into her coat pockets as the guide rattled off a rehearsed spiel about suicides and spectral sightings.

“I believe New York keeps secrets,” he said. His eyes flicked toward a darkened window above them. “And I believe I’ve seen weirder.”

“You ever felt like you’ve been somewhere before, even when you haven’t?”

He looked at her carefully. “All the time.”

The guide launched into a story about a woman in the Gilded Age who leapt from her brownstone window and was still seen pacing the stoop when it rains. Y/N tried to listen, but her head was spinning—not from the story, not even from the cold, but from Bob. Bob, who felt too familiar. Bob, whose warmth made her ache in a place she’d kept sealed off for too long.

And then it happened.

They learned in at the same moment—her to whisper something snarky, him to hear her over the roar of a passing bus—and collided. Lip-to-lip. A second. Maybe two. But warm. Startlingly warm.

She pulled back with a half-hysterical laugh, nearly tripping on the curb. “That was—ha—that was not planned. I was going to make fun of your hat—”

But he wasn’t laughing. Bob looked stunned, like she’d just whispered something in a language he hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

“Did you feel that?” he asked.

She blinked. “You mean my nose slamming into your jaw?”

“No.” He shook his head, slow, deliberate. “There was… something else.”

A shadow flickered in the window behind him.

She glanced up instinctively—and for a split-second, the reflection staring back at her wasn’t hers. It was older. Paler. Wearing the same coat but with eyes not her own. She opened her mouth, then closed it. When she turned back, Bob was already speaking.

“You’ve known me before,” he said, quiet as a confession.

Her stomach flipped.

“You’re being weird,” she whispered.

“So are you.”

They stood there, fog curling around their feet, the streetlamp above flickering in that unnatural way lights do when something is off. Around them, the tour group moved forward, oblivious. The cold pressed in. From inside her coat pocket, a buzz.

One new photo.

She pulled out her phone. It was her and Robert—except she’d never taken this one. She was wearing the coat she had on now. Her arms around his. The background looked like this very street.

Bob leaned closer to see the screen. His shoulder touched hers. A jolt went through her. Not of fear. Of something worse. Recognition.

“Where’d that come from?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Her lips felt cold, her chest hollowed out.

Because deep down, she already knew.

And then—another whisper. Ancient. Familiar.

“He doesn’t remember you. But he will.”

“D.” That cryptic messenger. That damned voice. It echoed inside her like a bell tolling from another lifetime.

She stepped away from him, panic flaring behind her ribs. The ache, the pull toward him, it wasn’t romantic anymore. It was existential. A cruel, cosmic riddle.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears rising too fast to stop. “Just give me a moment.”

She turned away from him, away from the fog, from the past clawing at her like fingernails against glass. Her vision blurred. This ghost tour wasn’t just haunted; it was a sick joke. Her ghost walked beside her. Her husband’s shadow. Her grief. And now this man, this Bob, who laughed like Robert, who smiled like hope, was unraveling everything she had stitched back together.

She couldn’t breathe.

The air felt thinner here. Like something was watching. Judging.

She felt Bob reach for her again. She didn’t let him touch her.

Because if he did, she wasn’t sure she’d ever let go.

Y/N's vision blurred at the edges. Her breath caught in her throat and refused to move, like something heavy was pressing down on her chest. The fog around them thickened, or maybe it just felt that way. Her ears rang. Her limbs tingled.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and took a few steps back, trying to disappear into the sidewalk. But the feeling wasn’t going away. If anything, it was getting worse. Her heart thudded like it was trying to escape, and her hands trembled even inside her gloves. Panic attack. That’s what this was.

Bob stepped forward, slowly. Not intruding, not pushing. Just… there. His voice came gently, low and grounding. “Y/N.”

She didn’t answer, eyes darting away.

“Hey. Look at me.” She did. Barely. “You’re okay,” he said, voice firm but kind. “You’re here. Breathe with me, alright?”

He lifted his hand, palm up, inviting, not demanding. She hesitated but reached for it. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and solid. Then his other arm came around her, easing her into a hug. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t performative. It was shelter.

“Just breathe. In for four, out for four,” he said softly. She mirrored him, clumsy at first, but it helped. The fog inside her started to lift.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, voice muffled. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“You’re overwhelmed,” Bob murmured into her hair. “We all get that way. Even superheroes’… ghost wives.”

She pulled back, blinking. “That was weirdly specific.”

His mouth twitched. “Just a guess.” Then, tilting his head, he added, “Also might’ve been Mister Cuddles who told me.”

A laugh broke out of her throat, sharp and sudden. She wiped at her face, embarrassed, but the smile lingered. “I hate that that worked.”

“I don’t,” he said, mock-solemn. “It’s my greatest achievement to date.”

They stood in a moment of quiet, the haunted tour trudging a few yards ahead. The guide was still droning on about old spirits and gas lamps, but it felt distant. Removed.

Then Bob asked, casually, “Want to ditch this tour and come over to my place?”

Y/N blinked. “Your place?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just to hang out. We can order overpriced sushi, roast bad Netflix movies. Or you can sit in total silence and judge my throw pillows. No pressure.”

Her mouth opened to say no, too soon, too weird, too dangerous. But before she could speak, something about the way he said it so normal, so him made her ears perk up. Bob’s place. Wasn’t he involved with the New Avengers somehow? Elise had dropped that in a half-sentence earlier this week. A visit could help the article. Fill in the gaps. Explain the mystery.

She tried to stuff the curiosity back down, but it was already rising, hot and flickering.“Only if…” she said slowly, “it’s okay to have me over.”

Bob grinned, that crooked grin again. “Of course it is.”

——————————————————————————————————————-

The apartment was not an apartment.

It was a building. Or at least, a massive, converted warehouse in Midtown with clean lines, gleaming elevators, and a private keycard entrance. The lobby alone had better lighting than most luxury spas.

Bob led her through a secured hallway and into an elevator that required a palm scan.

Y/N whistled low. “This is either very cool… or a very elaborate kidnapping.”

“Bit of both,” Bob replied. “But don’t worry. I only kidnap people with excellent taste in bagels.”

The elevator opened onto a private floor that looked more like a boutique hotel than someone’s living space. Industrial ceilings, exposed brick, wide open living spaces… and framed portraits on the walls. Not just art. Faces.

She paused. Something in her chest clenched. She didn’t know these people, not really, but her body reacted like it did. One of them was Sam Wilson. Another was Monica Rambeau. And then there were others she had seen only in passing reports or Elise’s files.

Ghosts of a life she hadn’t lived. Or hadn’t lived yet.

Bob noticed her staring. “It’s weird, right?” he said gently. “You feel like you’ve walked into someone else’s dream.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

Before she could ask more, footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

“Well, well, look who finally brought someone home,” a familiar, dry voice teased.

Yelena Belova stepped into view, blonde bob bouncing, holding a cup of something suspiciously glowing. Behind her came Walker, grinning like an overly proud golden retriever, followed by Ava Starr (phasing slightly, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be fully in this room or not), Alexei dragging a giant Costco bag of snacks, and finally—

“Bucky Barnes?” Y/N whispered, stunned.

Bucky nodded. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

Yelena laughed. “Bob has told us about you.”

Bob looked down embarrassed and nudged her shoulder. “Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is the extremely underpaid, mildly dysfunctional, and weirdly attractive New Avengers.”

“You forgot emotionally damaged,” Ava added.

“Oh, that too,” Bob said smiling shyly.

Y/N tried to keep her face neutral. But her mind was spiraling again. Because here they were. All in one place. Not a fantasy. Not a file. Real.

And if they were real, and Bob was one of them, then maybe just maybe she was closer to the truth than she thought.

Bob leaned close, voice quiet near her ear. “You, okay?”

She looked up at him. At the warmth in his eyes. The steadiness.

“No,” she said honestly. “But I think I’m getting there.”

He smiled. “That’s good enough.”

Alexei took one look at Y/N, then turned dramatically toward the rest of the group, arms thrown open like he was about to announce the second coming.

“This,” he declared, “is cause for celebration!”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Alexei, we already ate. And you’ve been celebrating things all week.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, waving her off, “but this is different. Bob brought someone home. A real live person! With blood and feelings and—” He squinted at Y/N. “—a face that looks like she hasn’t run away yet. This is progress!”

Bob looked like he was either going to laugh or sink into the floor. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is extremely serious,” Alexei insisted. “You never bring people here. Last person you let up here was that delivery guy who cried when you tipped him too much.”

“That was one time,” Bob mumbled.

Y/N blinked. “You… tipped a delivery guy so much he cried?”

“Emotionally unstable man,” Bob said dryly. “And I was drunk. And hungry.”

“I still think about him sometimes,” Ava said from the kitchen. “I hope he’s okay.”

Alexei clapped his massive hands. “Enough! We must eat like family. Come, Y/N, you are guest of honor. You sit at the head of the table.”

“I really don’t have to—”

“No, no, we insist!” Alexei was already dragging out chairs, pulling leftovers from the fridge like he was preparing a feast. Half a dozen mismatched takeout boxes appeared on the long kitchen island. Thai, Indian, pizza, and something that looked like soup but might’ve been a science experiment.

Y/N sat awkwardly at the head of the rustic table while the others filled in around her. Ava spoke lowly with Yelena. Yelena stole fries from Walker’s plate while pretending not to. Bucky poured drinks like he’d done this a thousand times before.

And Bob? Bob sat beside her, giving her space but never quite leaving her orbit.

The food wasn’t fancy, but the warmth in the room was real.

Alexei raised a glass of soda with a proud grin. “To Y/N, for not running out the door immediately.”

“To Y/N,” the others echoed.

Y/N smiled despite herself. “Thanks… I think.”

As the night carried on, stories were told some clearly exaggerated, some probably classified, and Bob leaned in now and then to whisper a joke or fill in a detail. At one point, Yelena asked with her usual bluntness, “So… are you two dating, or is this like a hostage thing?”

Y/N choked on her drink. Bob just shrugged. “Bit of both.”

Even Bucky cracked a smile.

And for a moment just a small, quiet moment Y/N didn’t feel lost. She didn’t feel haunted. She just felt here. Real. And maybe, just maybe… she wanted to stay.

Nothing lasts forever though, Y/N had a clear understanding of that.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Post Note: Writing writing writing

[pascalispunkczechia]

Rules I Break For Him 6

Masterlist for this fic here

I wake up to bright morning light. The sun’s blasting through the windows. Javier’s still next to me, breathing steady. It’s nice. But we’ve got work.

“Javier,” I whisper near his ear. “We gotta get up.” I kiss his cheek lightly.

He stirs, blinks, and looks at me with a lazy grin before kissing me back. Still tastes unfairly good. Seriously, how?

“I need coffee,” he mutters and gets out of bed. He’s completely naked. Of fucking course.

Javier fuckin’ Peña is walking around my room in the nude like it’s nothing. And sure - he’s already done things to me that should’ve permanently short-circuited my brain, but damn. The view of that ass? And yeah, let’s not skip the front - makes my thighs clench automatically.

Anyway, no time. Work calls.

We clean ourselves up in the bathroom, turn back into functioning humans, and head out.

Coffee and food? Still a fantasy. My fridge’s a crime scene. But honestly, if Peña wasn’t fucking me into another dimension every night, I might’ve actually had time to grocery shop.

I smirk. He catches it, gives me a questioning look. I just wave it off with a grin.

We each take our own car. No need to give the station a reason to gossip about… whatever this is. Javi pulls out first, I follow close behind.

By the time we park at the station, we manage to meet at the entrance like it’s pure coincidence. Brilliant camouflage. So subtle. So adult.

Inside, it’s the usual chaos - overlapping voices, ringing phones, shuffling papers.

“Morning, boss,” detective Miguel calls out across the floor.

“Morning,” I reply.

The day rolls on pretty quietly. Until evening. That’s when Miguel bursts into my office. “Intercepted phone calls gave us a solid lead on Cali. We’re thinking we might’ve identified one of their primary coke labs. If we shut it down, we cut off a major supply chain.”

“Alright. I’m taking point on this,” I say without hesitation.

Right then, Javier knocks once on the door and walks in like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he kinda does. He doesn’t say anything, probably heard enough. Just walks up to us, eyeing me like he’s trying to read a fucking classified file.

“Sorry, boss,” he says with a tilt of his head, “you’re taking point exactly how?”

Miguel wisely excuses himself.

“I mean, agent Peña,” I say sweetly, “I’m going into the field. You’re coming with me. We’ll bring two more units. That should be enough.”

“Will it be enough?” he asks, sharp.

“Based on the file Miguel handed me, and what I scanned through, yeah. 10 minute departure window,” I say, then walk out.

It’s been a while since I’ve worn a tac vest. Strapping it on feels heavy. But right. I grab my weapon. Already know Javi’s pissed. If we weren’t surrounded by half the office, I don’t even wanna think about what he’d do or say right now. That thought alone sends a shiver down my spine. Still, I stay calm. Professional. On the outside.

“Let’s move,” I command.

We get to the location around 7 pm. It’s dark enough to work in our favor. Nobody expects DEA at night. We get out of the vehicles one by one, Javier’s up front, I’m right behind him.

The building’s entrance is barely closed. We slip inside. The lab’s supposed to be on the second floor. Guns drawn, we move up the stairs, step by step. When we reach the door, Javi nods to Miguel, then at me and kicks the thing in like he’s been waiting all damn day. And yep. There it is. The full setup. And a handful of armed narcos to go with it.

Gunfire. Fast and loud. We get a few of them cuffed and hauled out. The rest scatter like cockroaches. Whatever. We got enough. And hopefully, one of these assholes sings. Javier and I exchange a look, guns lowered and holstered, both of us about to start rifling through the desk before calling in the techs.

But then… a click.

Behind me, one of those almost invisible wall-doors swings open. Hidden. Probably a closet. I don’t even get time to think before a strong arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back. My weapon goes flying from its holster.

Javier reacts instantly - gun up, aimed at the fucker behind me. “Let her go!” he shouts, voice already past the breaking point.

But the bastard pulls me tighter, using my body as a shield. His arm presses hard into my throat. I can’t breathe right. My eyes start to sting, tears pressing forward from the lack of air.

“Drop the gun, asshole,” the dealer hisses at Javier. “Or I blow her fucking head off and have a little fun with what’s left.”

I feel sick. But his grip loosens just slightly when he sees Javier lower the muzzle.

“Easy,” Peña says, voice rough, steady… but I can see it. In his eyes. A flicker of something sharp. Fear. Real fear. And that scares me more than the man behind me.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What now? That piece of shit’s not letting go. Where the hell are Miguel and the rest? They’ll come check on us if we’re gone too long, but until then?

I’m out of fucking time.

He’s got a goddamn knife now. Pressing it against her neck. Too fucking close. She’s pale, but her eyes - they’re fire. Anger.

And me? All I’ve got is fear. Fuck, I’m scared out of my goddamn mind.

Then, finally! Miguel and the guys rush in. Dealer doesn’t even have time to think. He jerks the knife, slices her neck… not deep, but fuck!

They take him down hard.

I grab her, drag her away from that bastard like I need to physically erase the fact that he ever touched her.

Miguel gets him cuffed. They haul him out like the trash he is.

I hold her close, hands already at her neck, checking the cut. It’s shallow. Thank fuck! But I was this close to losing my goddamn mind.

She leans into me. I pull the edge of my shirt up and wipe the blood from her skin. It’s all I’ve got on me. I don’t give a shit.

“Oh god. This was… I’m such an idiot. I should’ve checked the closet,” she breathes, voice cracking.

“Hey,” I snap. “That wasn’t your fucking fault, alright?” My voice comes out rough, almost a shout. “You hear me? You’re not an idiot. That guy was already hiding the second he heard us coming. He planned that shit.”

She doesn’t answer, but she’s still clinging to me. I don’t let go.

I call in the techs. Everyone else is busy hauling narcos to holding. Let them stew. We’ll get what we need tomorrow.

“Let’s go,” I say quietly, guiding her out with my hand on her back.

Outside, there’s only one car left. Mine. So we get in. No words. Just drive. The op dragged way longer than expected. By the time we’re back at the base, the place is dead. No surprise. Colombian work ethic: legendary. Which is why it’s always up to us DEA gringos to keep this shit running.

Straight to her office. Grab the med kit. Fix her up.

She gives me this look - half grateful, half ashamed. “Thanks,” she says, voice tiny. Still blaming herself.

I finish cleaning the cut. Touch her wrist, firm and warm. “Baby, listen. This wasn’t your fault, okay? Shit like this can happen to anyone. There’s no such thing as a perfect mission.”

She gives me a little smile. Tired. But real. “Ever the gentleman, agent Peña,” she says softly.

Then I remember. Bottom drawer. Whiskey. “Hang on. I know exactly what we’re missing.” Three strides, I’m at my desk. Grab the bottle. Back to her office.

She arches a brow. “Well, that’s gonna help. Glasses are over there, por favor.”

I pour. We clink.

She sits behind her desk. I drop into the chair across from her. We knock back the first one like it’s water.

I pour myself another. She waves me off. Doesn’t want more.

I look at her. And it just comes out. “You know… I was fucking scared today.” Sip. “Like actually scared. Thought he was gonna shoot you. Or stab you. Or worse.” I look down at my glass. “I don’t think I could’ve handled that.”

Another pause. Then I say it. “I realized… you matter to me. More than I expected. You’re important, alright?”

Eyes burn. Fucking hell. I’m not gonna cry. Not in front of her. But shit, I feel it.

I’m not lying. She really does mean something to me. Never thought I’d say that… especially not about someone I met a few days ago.

But right now? I’d fucking kill to protect her.

She looks at me. Really looks. Then stands. Comes closer. Eyes locked on mine.

“Javi,” she whispers. “Fuck me. Right here. On the desk. I need you.”

Jesus Christ. Did not see that coming. But fuck if it doesn’t set me on fire instantly.

I take her hands and stand, already unbuttoning my shirt, tossing it somewhere behind me. I pop open her pants, pull her in, lift her up, set her on the edge of the desk. Kiss her hard.

She buries her fingers in my hair.

My cock’s already straining against my pants. No fucking way I’m lasting long. I undo my belt, shove everything down to my knees, underwear included.

She looks straight at my dick and bites her lip. That’s it.

I grip her hips, yank her closer, shove her panties to the side, and slide into her in one rough thrust.

No prep. No hesitation. She’s fucking soaked. I start moving, fast and deep. Her moans echo around the office. She’s saying my name over and over… like a prayer, like a fucking curse.

I don’t care which. It’s hot as hell.

I pound into her harder, faster, losing myself in the rhythm, in the heat, in the fact that we’re fucking on her desk in an empty station.

She starts to clench around me. Yeah, she’s close. So am I.

We come together. Her nails dig into my back, body tight as she pulses around my cock. I explode inside her - every ounce of rage, fear, lust - emptied into her in one brutal release.

After a few seconds, I pull out. Lift her off the desk, hold her against me. Her legs wrap around my waist. I sit back in the same chair I had earlier, holding her in my lap.

Still inside her warmth. Still fucking here.

I light a cigarette. Exhale slow. Never underestimate the post-orgasm smoke. It hits different!

“Give me one too?” she asks quietly.

I pull another from the pack, place it between her lips, light it for her.

We sit there in silence. Breathing. Smoking. Holding each other.

Then she speaks. “You know… I wanted to thank you. For being here. Whatever this is… it’s not just about the sex. Even though… yeah, that helps too,” she says, cheeks flushing.

I nod. Cup her face in my hands. Kiss her nose. And then we’re kissing again. Softer this time. Like we’ve got something to lose.

Adrenaline’s still running through my veins. From nearly getting killed on a raid. From fucking on my own desk. From kissing him and feeling something I still don’t fully understand. And mostly - from what he said!

That I matter to him. I’m not gonna get ahead of myself. No conclusions. No daydreams. I don’t even know what the fuck this is.

Us.

Whatever’s happening between us. Whatever the hell it means when just being around him makes me feel like this… like I’m not in control of my own skin.

Javi’s got his fingers tracing slow circles down my back. He’s watching me like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What?” I smile at him.

“Today was insane,” he says, voice gravelly. “Think I’ll suggest to my boss’s boss that maybe she shouldn’t ride out with me anymore.” He smirks.

The teasing’s back. The edge is softer now. Like he’s letting go - or trying to.

“Oh yeah? Well, your boss doesn’t agree. She’s gotta keep an eye on you too,” I grin and scrunch my nose.

“Uh-huh. Like she did today?”

“Okay, touché,” I admit.

We’re both laughing now. God, we needed that. The release. The shift in air.

“Alright,” I say, unwrapping myself from his arms and standing up. “We should go. Tomorrow’s gonna kick our asses.”

“Mmm.” He squeezes my hand gently. “If you say so, boss.”

He gets up too. We both zip up. Javi throws on his shirt and slings that black leather jacket over his shoulders like a fucking movie star.

Lights off. We head out.

The night air hits colder than expected. I shiver. Javi notices - of course he fucking does - and wraps an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward my car. “I’ve gotta take care of something, baby,” he says low, almost reluctant. His eyes flick toward me like he’s checking my reaction.

“I’m a big girl,” I say with a wink. “I can make it home alone.” A million questions spark in my brain: What’s he doing? Where’s he going? Why now? But I don’t ask.

“Alright. Call me if anything comes up,” he says, tapping the radio clipped to my belt.

“Yes sir,” I joke, giving him a mock salute. Then I slide into the car, shut the door, roll the window down.

“See you later,” he murmurs, reaching in to brush my cheek.

I smile. “Take care, whatever it is you’re handling.” I turn the key in the ignition and drive off, headed home. Headed for a shower, a bed, and a few hours of sleep.

Hopefully.

I watch her car disappear down the street. Then slide into mine. I’m headed to Vanessa’s. Or, hell, the brothel. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it. No idea if this is smart. But I need to end it. For real. It’s been six months. Haven’t touched her since. She’s been calling. Texting. Still won’t quit.

But I can’t give myself to her not if this shit’s like Vanessa still clinging to me. She deserves better. And I’ve gotta be clean when I show up at her door.

I pull up fast. Street’s loud. Girls hanging everywhere. Don’t recognize most of them. Vanessa’s probably the last one left I still know.

“Hey there, handsome,” a too-young voice calls.

I shut it down. “DEA. Just here to handle something.”

She eyes me hard. Then walks off. Mumbling something to the others.

Good. Let them think I’m just another agent on duty. It’ll keep this cleaner.

I head up the stairs to Vanessa’s room. Stop at the door. Deep breath.

Knock.

Silence.

Please don’t let her have a client in there.

Door opens. It’s her. Hair a mess. Dark circles. She looks… rough. She didn’t used to look like this. Eyes light up when she sees me. And then she’s on me - arms around my neck, fingers already grabbing my ass. “Javi!” she shrieks, practically purring.

“Wait. Wait,” I mutter, grabbing her wrists. “I’m not here for that.”

Her smile drops. “You’re not? Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

I exhale. Keep it simple. “We should’ve had this talk a long time ago. Back then, things were different. I’m not the same. And there’s no more us.”

“No more what?” She’s laughing now. But not the nice kind. The sharp, hysterical kind. “You show up after ignoring me for months… using me for fucking intel, which could’ve gotten me killed… and now you think you can just end it?!” She starts hitting me. Hard. Fists on my chest, my arms.

I take it. I fucking take it. Not raising a single hand. “I don’t mean this as personal. I’ve just… moved on. This,” I motion around the room, “this isn’t me anymore.”

“Oh, it’s not?” she spits. “So what, you got yourself some little bitch now? Some DEA princess who doesn’t know where the fuck you’ve been?”

I don’t answer. But she sees it in my face.

“There it is. It is some whore,” she hisses. “You know what I think?” she sneers. “I think it’s that American bitch. The one you brought to the bar. Maria saw you. Told me you walked in with her.”

She starts shoving me toward the door. Tears in her eyes. Rage on her face. Right before she slams the door on me, she looks at me like she was waiting for something else to happen. A different ending.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!”

I don’t wait around. I’m gone. Fast. Car. Ignition. Pedal down.

Home. Gotta get home. Gotta fucking breathe.

My head’s a fucking mess. What the fuck do I even tell her? Do I lay it all out? Do I tell her about Vanessa? Will she throw me out the second she hears it?

Don’t know. Still gotta do it. The drive goes quick. Before I know it, I’m parked out front.

Her light’s still on.

I knock.

She opens with a smile. A curious look. “That was faster than I expected,” she says. “This little errand of yours.”

“Yeah… uh…” I clear my throat. “Can we go over to mine instead? Need to talk. And, no offense, you don’t keep whiskey stocked.” I raise a brow.

She laughs. “Right. Whiskey. The cornerstone of every serious conversation.” She’s in a tank top and sleep shorts. Cute as hell. And I wanna wrap her up in my arms like she’s mine already.

What the fuck is happening to me?!

We walk down the hall to my place. First time she’s ever been here. Shit. Should’ve cleaned.

She steps inside. Glances around. Gives me this amused little smile.

Okay, it’s not a pigsty. Just clearly not a place anyone lives in. Just survives. But it’s got a good couch. And a solid bed.

I tell her to sit. Grab two glasses, pour us each a decent hit, and walk it over. “You hungry? I’ve got empanadas,” I offer, nodding toward the kitchen.

She shakes her head. “Nah, just ate. And yes, before you ask, I finally stocked my fridge. Except the whiskey, obviously.”

Smartass.

I smirk. “Good. I’m not hungry either. This,” I lift the glass, “will do.”

She takes a sip. Leans back into the couch. “So… What is it you needed to talk about?” Her eyes are steady. Curious. Totally unaware of the storm I’m about to dump in her lap.

Here we go. It’s time to tell her everything.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 10.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1.1k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; (no smut in this part), angst, period-typical sexism

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment.

masterlist.

“Love is not an exact science,” you hear someone say as you weave through the masses. The source is a chemist whose cigar smoke clouds your vision, your hand dispersing it with a short wave. 

You’re with your neighbors Mary and Barb. Knowing that everyone will be dressed up, you compromise and wear burgundy, and actually bother to do something a little more sophisticated with your hair. It’s better to have tried than to have not, since you’ll stick out more for looking sloppy on a night like this. 

You crave gin, your stomach a flurry of butterflies. You could hear the music from the street, the raucous laughter of the crowd inside. The hall heaves with bodies. “Hello, hello,” Barb says, waving and kissing people as you pass through. “We’ll catch up.” You reach the bar and she gives a sigh of relief, which Mary mimics. You order three martinis, putting your purse down. 

“Haven’t seen you in forever,” Mary says, and Barb nods. You’d waited for this. 

“Busy with John?” Barb adds, and your brows lift.

“Not so much,” you reply. You tap their glasses with your own. “Cheers.”

“Chin-chin,” Mary declares with a wicked grin. “Single women on Christmas. Hallelujah.”

You laugh with them but don’t feel free. John is somewhere there, he told you he’d be around. You’re not seeing one another anymore, you don’t think, hence your ambivalence. Unfortunately, you don’t expect him to keep to himself tonight. As if summoning him with your thoughts alone, he appears by your elbow a few minutes later, offering a hand. 

“Dance with me?”

You reluctantly take his hand, feeling eyes on you. You look around and don’t see the Oppenheimers, or anyone from your department that can save you. John keeps trying to make eye contact, his grip tightening on your waist as if to prompt you. You glance his way, tempted to stop moving, to let another couple collide with you. You’re not prone to dramatics, however John constantly irritates you now. It’s effortless to despise him, actually.

“How have you been?”

“Busy.”

“I wanted to see you,” he adds.

“You are seeing me,” you retort. “And you made it clear that you find me completely un-serious.”

His blandly handsome face falls a little and you don’t smooth anything over. This is what happens to people that put you in a box. 

“But we…”

“Fucked?” you prompt, and he flinches at your crassness. 

“Yes,” he hisses, turning pink. “And you thought so little of it?”

A few drunken cheers surrounding you drown out your voices a little. You lean in to speak beside his ear.

“I don’t think about it at all.”

He doesn’t let go, a flash of anger in his eyes as you move together, slow spins. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times, cogs turning. You delight in this, having felt little of much else towards him during your fling. You’re truly bored with anyone outside of the laboratories. 

“I told everyone,” he says finally, and you blink. “And I told everyone what you’re like.”

“I supposed you would,” you drawl. “Can’t say I’ve done the same.”

If you did, you’d say he wasn’t good in bed. He was a terrible conversationalist, and you didn’t think he had much of a future career, either. His most interesting years were behind him, at college, or even as early as high school. 

“You make me sick-”

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” 

Your eyes snap to the voice you know in your marrow, your face flushing as you see Robert standing there with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth. John says nothing, frozen as you’re whisked away with ease. Your stomach somersaults as the world around you fades away. 

He speaks in warm murmurs, his tone practically for pillow talk. 

“Was he bothering you?”

“Yes,” you say, taking a deep breath. 

You watch as he deftly strikes a match and lights his cigarette without letting you go, his other hand still guiding you along. 

“And am I bothering you now?” 

“Was I bothering you earlier?” you throw back, and he exhales away from you, eyes never leaving your face. “When I found you with Groves?”

“Of course not.”

It is always so easy to adore him, and you have the urge to kiss him. He leads you around, unbothered by any of the staring crowd.

“I’m not a nice person to be seen with anymore,” you say. “Or haven’t you heard that about me in the last few months?”

“I’m not going to acknowledge any of it,” Robert says, and the song changes to a slower tune. 

Your face burns as you move in closer to one another, the same as the other couples dancing with you. For the first time, you search for Kitty in the crowd. You find her with a group of women all nursing their drinks, her eyes drifting to meet yours. You wonder what you look like, and whether she believes what she’s heard, too. 

Her drink meets her lips and you feel everything shrink again. She has no evidence to suspect you, surely. There’s no reason, except this dance, for Kitty to think anything happened between you and Robert. You haven’t been alone in the same room for months. 

“Why did we do this, again?” you whisper. “Any of it?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” Robert says, and you look his way once more, seeing the sadness there, mixed with an undeniable fondness. “And I think you enjoyed it somewhat, too.”

You give a shrug, knowing he can see right through you. “At times I did.”

“What do you think about riding off into the mountains?” he whispers, leaning in further. 

You long to embrace him, and feel his fingers on your waist give a little caress. You swallow. 

“Would you chop wood every night and grow a beard?” you ask. 

“For a couple nights, darling. Sleep under the stars with me. We can count them together.”

His words curl around you, squeezing your heart. 

“Don’t make fun,” you retort, stepping back. 

You long for a cigarette, stealing his, looking away because you can no longer stand to see his piercing eyes. You smoke as you fall into silent companionship. You wish you could lean your head onto his shoulder. You’ve never done that while dancing, never wanted to with anyone until now. 

“I meant it,” he says, and you close your eyes briefly, knowing this already. 

“We’re trying to do the decent thing, Robert,” you whisper. 

Your mask only slips with him and you can’t do it again, you can’t risk it. You’re too bruised. You think about healing from this and know it will be another long battle. He will never, ever leave Kitty. There will always be other women with him. 

As you separate when the song finishes, you fix a smile to your face and return to Mary and Barb, snatching up your drink. You drain it and immediately go in search for another. 

To hell with it all. 

a/n: It's been so long. I don't expect many people to read this. If you've got this far, you deserve the world. Here's hoping it's not as long of a wait for the next part. Offline everything has been kicking my ass his year.

taglist: @indulgence-be-thy-name, @forgottenpeakywriter, @amiets2@dilfsffx (hmu if you’d like to be added)

[cloudiewrites]

hey I saw you write for Tom Riddle and I was wondering if I can request dating headcanons with Hufflepuff!reader? :)

Tom Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader Dating Headcanons

Author's Note: I love the idea of Tom Riddle with someone from Hufflepuff! I always imagined him someone kind and soft, and I had so much fun writing this! Thank you for your request! <3

As a prefect, Tom knew the name, blood status, and basic background knowledge of every student in Hogwarts. While he never really used that information, he liked to have a certain advantage over anyone else.

So when he was paired with you for one of your Potions projects, he already knew what to expect: a bubbly Hufflepuff, the same year as him, half-blood, and from what he has noticed, not outstanding academic performance.

At first, Tom was not thrilled by the fact he was paired with you. Sure, you were pretty decent in potions, but he much preferred being paired with someone from his own house.

During the first 10 minutes of your lesson he has managed to keep a polite and calm façade which quickly crumbled once he gave you an instruction, which you refused to follow.

"Excuse me?", he quirked his eyebrow at you, "What do you mean "no"?" You simply lifted your shoulders, "I think you are wrong. We add the Bat Spleens at the end."

Of course, Tom was right and you blushed in embarrassment once the professor came to examine your work and pointed out this mistake. Surprisingly, Tom did not say anything, simply turning around to put all the ingredients you have used away.

While Tom hoped this was going to be the last time he had to interact with you, let alone work together, you had different plans. Feeling bad about your behavior, you decided you were going to make it up to him.

You started to volunteer to be his partner in every single class you shared together. Tom found this extremely irritating at first, but his feelings started to change once he saw how dedicated you were to the projects.

Within two weeks, you quickly became the second-best student in all your shred classes. He was never going to admit this, but he was impressed.

Naturally you started to talk more. First, it was always about the work in class. This turned to casual chats every now and then about the weather or the latest events happening at Hogwarts. Soon after these talks turned into sharing more personal stuff about your background, your home, and your childhood.

Tom was way more reserved than you with sharing information about himself, but he was a surprisingly good listener when it came to you talking about your likes, dislikes, and occasionally the latest gossip your friends have told you.

Unaware of his slowly forming attachment towards you, Tom started to seek more excuses to spend time with you. He went to the library at the same time as you and always sat at the same table too. You also started to share lunches in the backyard from time to time, as well as practice spells near the lake between classes.

While you were not in any way hiding the fact you've spent time with Tom outside the classroom, you were not keen on announcing it to your friends... yet. Tom Riddle did have a reputation as a strict prefect, who has deducted way more points from your housemates than they consider fair. They did try to avoid him when possible and often changed the direction they were walking once they spotted him in the corridor.

That's why you almost fainted that one morning when Tom came to you during breakfast, inviting you to accompany him to Hogsmeade because he needed to buy some more school supplies. He has never approached you at your table before.

He was as calm as ever while waiting for your reply, his expression serious and his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were focused on your blushing form, completely ignoring the obvious stares from your housemates. Once you said a shy "yes" he nodded in acknowledgment, before turning around and walking back to the Slytherin's table.

While you did go to different shops to buy more supplies for your classes, you also went to grab something to eat and you couldn't help but think that the purpose of this trip was actually to take you out on a date.

During the whole time he was in his usual state of being extra polite and reserved, but he did open a little bit more to you, sharing some stories from his own childhood, as well as his plans to become a minister of Magic in the future. (obviously, he did save you the details of some other, darker plans he had)

Tom could not explain it, but spending time brought a weird feeling of comfort to him. It was almost as if his always racing thoughts calmed for a bit and let him relax. He felt safe and for the first time, he was present here and now... no thoughts about the future, about Dumbledore, or about his ambitions... it was just you and him.

Knowing he was conceived from a love potion, he knew this could not be love. So in the beginning he justified his interest in you as an interest in your potential. You were a good witch and when you focused your full attention on a task, you performed more than extraordinary.

He justified his closeness to you the same way in front of his friends once they decided to enquire why he spends so much time with you. However, he quickly shut them up once they raised the proposal that if you are really that skilled, you should join their little group focused on getting rid of every muggle witch and wizard (or at least making their life miserable). Not knowing you are a half-blood, they were surprised at how quickly Tom's aura shifted when he heard this.

"I do not want to hear such a pathetic proposal from any of you ever again. Am I clear?"

Tom never felt scared, but thinking about the mere possibility of exposing you to his darkest parts and ambitions absolutely terrified him. What would you think? Would you stop talking to him? He could not risk that.

He never officially asked you to be together, it just happened. You were on one of your study sessions near the lake when you looked up to him and suddenly the question you were about to ask him got stuck in your throat. Maybe it was the reflection of the sunlight in his dark curls or the curious look he gave you once you called his name, but something made your body move closer and your lips pressed against his.

That took him by surprise and his eyes widened, his whole body staying still. Thinking you overstepped your boundaries you pulled away about to apologize, when his hand wrapped behind your neck and pulled you back.

From this day you became a couple, despite not establishing it officially. However, it soon became pretty clear to everyone you were together, once he started to land kisses on your hand every time he greeted you and wrapped a protective hand around your waist every time some of his Slytherin friends decided to approach you.

While in public you two do keep some distance from each other, in private he slowly warms up to the idea of your touches. Small touches on the hand, kisses, you holding him in your arms... He would never voice it, but he is addicted to your touches. Never has he felt so... happy.

He never has been in a relationship or had any type of intimate contact with a female before, so he will be a little bit stiff and awkward in the beginning. Luckily for you, however, he is a very fast learner and would take note of everything that makes you smile or feel good.

He is jealous. Not the obvious type, as he will never say anything to you, but any male approaching you would definitely be seen as a potential threat with which he has to deal promptly.

Tom would be extra careful with his side activities involving dark magic and do everything in his power to keep you away from finding out. In his mind you were so pure and gentle, there was no way he would allow you to get involved in something like this.

He would still work on his goals of becoming stronger and achieving immortality. Despite him developing strong feelings towards you, he could not just throw his life dreams away. In his mind, it was perfectly reasonable to have you AND power.

All I can say is enjoy these years in Hogwarts... they would probably be the happiest ones in your relationship.

CC artwork: Nasan Hardcastle

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 11

pt 10 here

Content: direct cont of last chap, reader wears heels, implied reader has boobies O-O, soooo much hand holding it should be considered lewd, 2 pics to help see what I picture (underlined text), date hehe, reader wouldn't mind if Choso kidnapped them 0-0, they play battle ship, jokingly implied Choso is an escort(?), reader is kinda mean, reassurance, idk just my usual bs??? just reader nd Choso being cute man what else can I say. Word Count: 11.9k (wtf, im sorry)

(a.n) this was so long, I know, pls excuse any mistakes- I underestimated how hard it was to edit something longer than 5k words. ALSO???? take this as a celebration of me hitting 1k followers!! yayyy

Taglist: @eristi @sunaumi @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @1arminsimp @hannas16 @chosowhore @tojicvmslut @ofalcaodacolinablue @thesharkcollector @mochipip @hotvillianapologist @ziklope @saeline @morinuu @b3llair3 @24hrnanami

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After you left his apartment, Choso’s mind blared with the possibility of you being kidnapped- only to find solace in the small red dot blinking on his phone. Cautious eyes watching as he expected it to move- but no. It stayed still at a restaurant right outside of campus. Choso wanted to desperately leave behind those incessant urges to follow you- to make sure you were safe. 

Knowing that his day of reckoning would come. Choso knew that if he kept following you- the day would come when you’d see him. And he wanted to trust you now that things were starting to advance. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to trust you, to trust that you could take care of yourself- 

But everytime he’d try to ignore the blaring ‘warning’ signs in his mind. He’d remember every time he watched you walk home without caution, every horror story he read of people getting kidnapped and trafficked- and on the occasions where Choso couldn't shake off the invading thoughts, your voice would haunt his mind.

Overwhelming his brain as he tried to focus on what you were saying- your whispering voice making his brain pound in his skull as he watched that blinking dot.

Choso had to call you- if he couldn't run out of his apartment and find you- the least he could do was call you. Feeling like one of your clingy ‘friends’ as the phone rang, his pointer finger picking at the side of his thumb as he closed his eyes. All but praying for you to answer, opening his eyes as he heard the receiver being picked up, 

“I was just thinking about you-” he spoke, hearing your angelic laugh ring through his ears. ‘I left like 20 minutes ago.’ you teased, “I know-” he mumbled “What're you doing?” he continued, not in the mood to dance around what he wanted to hear, ‘uh- I'm at..lunch with a friend.’ you hesitated. –

‘What're you doing, Choso?’ you asked, confused as to where this was going. Choso let out a half laugh from his chest. “M’sitting in the dark thinking about you.” he professed, pressing his hand to his forehead and hearing you laugh at the serious tone he took. ‘Sounds healthy.’ you joked back with a playful tone, closing his eyes and thinking. Your tone was kind- speaking sweetly as you normally did. But. You hesitated.

The same way you hesitate whenever you refer to him as your friend. 

“M’sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice.” he sniffled, “Tell your friend I say hi.” hearing your smile when you replied a quick ‘Okay.’ at his request. 

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The conversation of the date was a rough one. Sitting in his apartment as you played chess. The timing was horrible- sure. The econd week of February left an unavoidable holiday sitting in front of you. “We can wait...till after if you want.” he offered a solution as he moved a pawn. 

“It's not so much the day for me.” you admitted, scanning the wooden chest pieces on your side of the checkerboard. “If you want- we can wait till after.” rephrasing his words as you watched his eyebrows furrow, “S’the same for me.” mentally chanting ‘pleasepleasepleaseplease’ as you pondered. 

And with those words- the date was set for Valentines day. Which made Choso believe there really was a god from how well this turned out. And you're thinking of moving out from that house full of idiots- and into the small apartment complex as his neighbor.

For the first time in Choso’s life he felt like life dealt him a good hand.

When it came to actually thinking about what to do- he didn't want to ask you. Knowing you were indecisive on what you were eating for lunch that day- so he didn't want to plague you with planning a date he owed you. Checking his bank account and barely seeing enough for a stack of pancakes in the town diner. 

Choso contemplated it. He thought about it over and over again, weighing the pros and cons in his mind before going into his closet and reaching into a pair of boots that were 3 sizes too small for him. Finding the thinning wad of cash he was looking for. The so-called ‘rainy day fund’ thinned every time he ran out of money for the month.

But this was worth it, you, were worth it. So he pulled the rubber band from the roll of cash, slowly counting the bills in his hands to be sure he didn't miss count. 

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The next time you saw Choso you asked him what his plan was- “Just be ready by 7.” he smiled to himself, already picturing you on that day. 

Furrowing your eyebrows before speaking, “Well-” you scoffed “what are we doing?”

“It's a surprise.” he grinned, looking down at the stupid game you called ‘Candy Land’ 

You sighed dramatically, “Choso, I hate surprises.” as you stared at the little pieces of plastic on the colorful board. “Atleast tell me what to wear.” you insisted, seeing his lips flash a pearly smile to you. 

“Wear whatever you want- I’m sure you’ll look great.” he scoffed, holding the little piece of plastic between his fingers, making it hop as he counted the squares. 

“Well if you're taking me to a nice restaurant and I'm wearing a t-shirt nd jeans- not gonna be very fun. Or if you're taking me to a horse race-” Choso laughed at your assumptions, “And I open the door in a dress and heels? Then what?” you threw the possibilities at him as he smiled at your nervousness. 

“It's a first date- I wanna make a good impression.” You mused, earning a half laugh from his chest. “C’mon-” you batted your eyelashes at him, trying to convince him to tell you what he was planning.

Nodding his head at your coercion that was working better than you thought, “You're terrible.” he whispered, making your pouting grin turn into a toothy smile. “Wear something nice-” he avoided your eyes, moving the character on the squares again as you listened carefully, “Bring a coat- weather app says it's gonna be cold.” He instructed.

“Do I eat beforehand?” you grinned, seeing his jaw clench at your question, “Hmm- No.” you smiled at how a few pleads convinced him to tell you. 

“How nice should I dress then?” pressing the issue with a winning smile on your face as you moved your plastic character, pleased at how easily he was to convince. “Atleast tell me that.” Choso looked at you and pondered the question, before nodding his head ‘no’. Knowing he's already said too much. 

You pouted playfully at his denial, “Just a hint- just oneee.” seeing his eyes look over your face, “I’ll even settle for one word.” he thought of a word to use, staring at you as he skimmed through words in his mind. 

“Wear something- striking.” he squinted as he settled on the word.

With raised eyebrows you started, “Striking huh?” in a teasing tone the choice of word he used, “Must be some first date to wear something striking.” your borderline bullying caused Choso to regret his choice of telling you anything. 

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On the 13th of february, just one day before your date- Choso facetimed his baby brother Yuuji, knowing out of all 9, he was probably the best one to call about this delicate topic. 

“What about this?” he holding a black knit sweater to his chest while looking at the screen, Yuuji let out a snicker- ‘If you like it-’ his tone was snide- almost mockingly as Choso tossed the knit onto his bed, staring at the pile of clothing that he had gone through. 

Showing him a band t-shirt from one of his drawers and hearing Yuuji let out a small laugh before he tossed the t-shirt on his already messy bed. “You're no help.” 

‘M’not here to helppp-’ Yuuji droned on, “That's precisely why I called you, Yuuji.” Choso retorted in a stern tone, not enjoying the game his brother was trying to play, slipping on a black dress shirt and doing up the tiny buttons.

‘Didn't you wear that to your graduation?’ he heard from the phone with a half laugh forming in his brother's words. “Can you tell?” straightening his back and seeing the fabric flex against his chest and shoulders, ‘Looks a lil tight buddy.’ Yuuji held back a laugh, being able to see the buttons strain and form small openings down his chest.

With an exasperated sigh he looked back to the mess on his bed, “I don't know what to wear.”

‘The dark navy button down you wore to parent teacher conferences and black slacks.’ Yuuji spat quickly, ‘Hey when am I gonna meet this person?’ Smiling as he changed the topic, “When you stop being so nosy.” Choso muttered, looting through his closet and finding the button up Yuuji was talking about. 

Unbuttoning the taut buttons and slipping off the small shirt. Tossing it onto the pile of discarded options before slipping on the better fitting dress shirt, doing up the small buttons and looking in the mirror, ‘I'm not nosy-’ Yuuji laughed, ‘Excuse me for trying to find out who’s involved in my big brothers life-’ enunciating the words. Attempting to make Choso feel bad for scolding him. 

“If you ever come out here- I'll introduce them to you.” he looked at the top two buttons that were undone, trying to decide whether or not to do them.

‘I'm on the next flight out.’ Yuuji quipped, making Choso scoff.

 “No Yuuji. Go to school.” Choso demanded, knowing he was skipping more than a handful of classes. ‘One day I’ll fly out there and you won't be able to say no to me till I’m standin’ at your door.’ Yuuji threatened, Choso offered only a sarcastic ‘haha’ in response.

‘How you got a date before I got a girlfriend is still insane to me.’  he pressed, “Why’s that Yuuji?” rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt as he looked in the mirror. 

Yuuji laughed- knowing just what to do to annoy his older brother, ‘Cause you're so… weird.’ Yuuji struggled to say the words through a bully-like smile, “For your information- brother of the year,” Choso snapped playfully, which surprised Yuuji since Choso was never the type to banter- not because he didn't want to. But his quips would always come out in stutters, never being able to come up with smart replies fast enough. 

Choso smiled as he recalled your slurred words,“They like that I'm ‘strange’.” Yuuji chirped from the phone, ‘They tell you that?’ with a sarcastic tone. 

Looking at Yuuji with a cocky smile, “They did.” earning for his baby brother to raise his eyebrows in feigned shock, ‘The world is so backwards.’ he scoffed before asking more questions about you. 

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Choso wanted to make tonight special, he wanted to make this the last first date you ever went on. 

So as he looked at himself in the mirror, putting on his many rings and muttering words of encouragement to himself, hands shaking as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark navy blue dress shirt. Trying not to nitpick any detail that he didn't like about the reflection staring back at him- whispering that even if he was ‘strange and off putting’ you still liked him. 

Side eyeing the clear bowl shaped vase that held three white lilies, Choso felt nerves eating away at him as his eyes flashed down to his phone that lit up with a message from you. 

‘lmk when ur outside :)’ your message read. If only you knew Choso’s stomach was in knots. A specific kind of anxiety he had never felt before, it almost felt like how your stomach churned while in line for a scary rollercoaster for the first time. 

He quickly typed, ‘im omw now’ with trembling thumbs.

So as he put on the torn up carhartt jacket he relied on whenever it was cold, he straightened his back as he held the clear vase in his hand- Choso hesitated to turn the doorknob of his apartment. Thinking on if this was a good idea- a million doubts racing in his mind. 

But he only needed one thought to pull him from his doubts. All he needed was to remember you to open the door. 

The walk across the lively campus full of people carrying bouquets of red roses and overcompensating stuffed animals made him think that maybe the three lilies were not enough- Till the realization that he was actually taking you out on Valentine's day hit, which only made him even more nervous, the pondering thoughts of ‘am I making a fool of myself?’ making him overheat in the heavy jacket. Choso must've taken it off and put it back on 2 or 3 times before he reached your neighborhood. 

Standing on your rundown porch, thinking about ringing the doorbell. Those doubts daring to creep back into his mind, but his hesitant finger pressed the button anyway. Holding the bowl in both hands as he heard muffled shouts through the heavy wood door. He watched the brass handle turn before the door cracked open- his eyes being granted the honor of seeing you. 

‘Breathtaking’ was the word his mind formulated once he felt air fill his lungs again. 

Choso swore that every single time he looked at you, it felt like the first time. But this time- this, took the cake. This would be the mental image he’d remember every time he thought of you. The nerves and unease he felt in his chest melted away when he saw the warmth of your smile.

His eyes blinked quickly- almost in disbelief as he looked at you, so love drunk it hurt his chest a little. 

And you, bent to the side and fiddling with the tiny buckle of your heel. To Choso it felt like you came straight out of his teenage dreams as you looked at him.

Smiling as you uttered the word that was stuck in his throat, with a hurried smile you spoke, “Heyy-” before placing your foot back onto the ground as you stepped back with a quiet gasp, looking at the bowl in his hands. “Come in!” you urged sweetly, seeing his eyes scan your frame, darting to your living room that was full of your gawking roommates and their friends. ‘An anti-valentines day movie night’ you called it.

“Thought I told you to tell me you were outside-” you grinned, standing at the entryway of the house. ‘God, you are haunting.’ You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply. Unknowing your roommates were ignoring the movie on the living room tv. Furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at the round vase in his hands.

“T-these are for you.” He muttered, his heart racing at an abominable speed by seeing you grin kindly before your smile fell.

It turned into a grimace, “I have something for you too-” looking back up at the stairs you practically fell down when the doorbell rang. Turning back around to face him. Taking the bowl from his extended hands with a prolonged touch, “They're lovely. Thank you.” you smiled, “Stay right here- I'll be right back.” You hushed, turning around and dashing up the stairs. 

Choso stood at the doorway, almost mournful knowing the sight of you that greeted him would only exist in his memory now. Fiddling with his rings as he felt the people's eyes burn through him. Unintelligible whispers from the prying gazes. Gulping as he heard your bedroom door slam shut, urging footsteps on the ground as you hurried down the stairs. Both hands held behind your back as you hid his present. 

A silly smile on your lips as you looked at him, the thin heel of your shoes clacking on the tile as you stood before him, reaching your arm around as you a box with a small bow on top. Raising his eyebrows and looking at the box holding a pair of white glass plates inside. “Plates?” he smiled defeated at the present as you tried to suppress a small laugh. 

Your shoulders moved in a silent laugh as you watched his eyes flash back up to you, “Yes. Plates.” seeing him exhale through his nose, amused at what a coincidence it was that you bought him them.

“Thank you.” He mumbled softly, already being able to picture using them.

Choso held the box in one hand, looking at you with adoring eyes, you cleared your throat, “Striking enough?” you sneered proudfully. He practically choked on air at your question. 

He took a second to look at you, trying to find the correct thing to say, “You look beautiful.” he breathed softly, words that came straight from his heart. Mentally he was shouting any word he thought of when he looked at you. Words that are not to be said on a ‘first date’, confessions of yearning love and descriptive words of how he felt about you. 

‘Captivating.’ Choso thought as he admired your features that were accentuated by the warm lighting, almost casting a glow on your skin.

You felt the warmth in your cheeks trail to the tip of your nose at the compliment. ‘Thank y-’ you mouthed silently, being interrupted by a loud over exaggerated cough coming from the living room. 

Squinting your eyes as you turned around to face the source, “When did you say you'd be home?” one of your roommates spouted from the couch.

“I didn't.” You spoke with a raised tone laced with irritation, scoffing before walking into the living room. Focused on your coat that was draped on the edge of the couch.

Their eyes looked up at you as though you owed them something, “Where's he taking you?” desperate to keep you home.

You raised your eyebrows before you spoke, “No idea.”, reaching your hands into the pockets of your coat to be sure you had what you needed. 

Picking it up from the couch before turning around and speed walking back to Choso, looking at him with an urgent look on your face. “Let's go.” you whispered as you reached for the doorknob, “It's not safe to go to an undisclosed location with a stranger-!” your roommate shouted as you stepped through the doorway. Sighing as you pulled the door behind you. 

“Sorry about that.” you breathed, inhaling the cold air as you scanned the cloudy overcast with squinted eyes and creased eyebrows.

Choso inhaled sharply before he spoke, “Was that-”

“Yes, that was my den mother.” with a scoff, Choso parted his lips in a silent wince as you slipped your coat onto your exposed shoulders. Reaching a hand down and raising your ankle halfway to tweak with the strap of your heel again.

“Lead the way.” you smiled as Choso took a step forward onto the rickety stairs. 

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“Can you tell me where you're taking me now?” You sounded almost defeated as you walked side by side on the pavement. Choso made sure that he was on the open side of the sidewalk, walking between you and the potential risk.

Quiet streets derived from people made the walk peaceful, the sunless sky causing everything to look pale blue- almost as though you stepped through a blue tinted filter.

The weather was fresh- cold enough for a coat but not freezing the way it was a few days ago. A small breeze would have made you regret your choice in what you wore- your calves and ankles exposed to the frigid air.

Looking over at him as he held the boxed plates, with a smug grin on his lips, “We have to go pick something up first.” you hummed at Choso’s denial as his rundown oxford-esque shoes stomped on the ground.

Seeing an opportunity to wear down that smugness, you looked at him with an unashamed smile. “You look beautiful too, Choso.” circling back to his compliment that was interrupted by your roommate. He looked over to you- not shocked but surprised at your choice of words, despite the gloomy weather- you looked warm in his eyes. As though the sun was shining and it was the middle of summer.

He sighed as he felt your shoulder brush against his, “I don't think I’ve ever been called that.” he admitted honestly with a flustered smile. 

You laughed, “I can call you something else-” with an enthusiastic grin, looking up into the sky as you thought of the words to use, “How about- scenic. Or uh, captivating-” watching the blush on his cheeks trail onto his exposed ear.

Choso’s teeth stuttered as he heard you- trying to silence the sudden compliment, “My name is fine.” He insisted with a nervous laugh, trying his best to ignore your gaze.

You raised your eyebrows, “Are you sure? I can keep going-”

“Ju-” he breathed, “Just Choso is fine.” he implored, his heart racing at an unimaginable speed.

You were pleased with his stutter, “Okay. ‘Just Choso’, where are you taking me?” grazing the back of your palm against his as you walked, his eyes on the ground watching the lines on the pavement come and go.

Choso sighed, “I already told you- We. Are going. To pick. Something up.” He paused between the words as though that was an answer, flinching when you bumped your knuckles into his as you strolled beside him.

“Don't take that tone with me, mister.” you teased playfully, holding your knuckles against his as you saw him perk a smile. 

“Sorry-” he grinned as he looked over at you sweetly, “We’re gonna go pick something up.” he corrected himself, smiling at the sugared words, not moving his hand from yours- if anything pressing it closer. 

With a sigh you took the initiative and interlocked your fingers with his, your cool hand icing his warm palm, “If you're gonna kidnap me- let me know. Promise I won't fight back or anything.” you joked, making Choso shiver at your accusation. 

With a grimace he hesitated the words he was about to say, “That is a terrible and equally horrifying thing to say,” he spoke your name in a reprimanding tone.

“I mean in the way that life sucks right now, and you're a pretty cool person. And you're nice, and tolerate me.” squinting your eyes at the sudden frost-like breeze puff against your bare shins.

Your circling hum on the side of his pointer finger made this conversation suddenly very difficult for him to focus on. “Just don't put me in a glass cage. That's all I ask.” You continued the unsettling topic as you squeezed his hand. 

Choso laughed at the reference, “You see,” being able to conjure the words in his mind. “I had reason to worry about you getting kidnapped.” he murmured, mentally damning you for putting that thought into his head again. 

“That's different though.” you hummed, tilting your head towards him. “Of course if it was a stranger I’d fight tooth and nail-” a playful grin on your lips, watching his eyebrows slowly pull upwards. “But, if it was you?” you continued, feeling his palm subtly start to clam against yours.  

Choso looked over at you- waiting for you to finish what you were saying. The troubled expression on his face made you smile at how easy it was to fluster him. 

Shaking away the words in your mind, the sky dimming as you clutched onto his hand, you let out a ‘tsk’ at the thought, “Now that would be something quite forward to say.” you grinned playfully.

‘Your smile hides your mischievousness a little too well- I think you're just being cruel at this point.’ he thought as he looked at your profile. A proud smile adorning your lips. 

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“A parking garage?” you asked, twitching your ankle as you watched Choso input a security code into the metal receiver.

Choso sucked his teeth with a smile, “Did you expect us to walk for the entire night?” looking down to your shoe that was clearly bothering you. 

“You have a car?” you asked as you watched the metal gate creak open. 

He winced, “Technically no-” hand in hand as he led you through the barrier of the two story garage. Walking up the sloped concrete as you looked at the dusty cars. 

“I didn't even know this place existed.” You muttered, eyeing the gray walls illuminated by old yellow lights. Swinging your connected hands softly as Choso laid eyes upon the black car cover he hoped was waiting for him. 

“Let's hope it still runs.” he joked as you let go of his hand. 

“Hold these for me won't you?” he whispered, handing you the cardboard box as you tapped your heeled foot on the ground, causing Choso to look down at your ankle once more.

Placing his hands on the front end of the cover, yanking it off as you laid eyes on the two seater maroon colored classic. Almost perfectly polished as you raised your eyebrows in shock, his hands balling up the black car cover and placing it on the hood haphazardly.

He inhaled almost painfully, “It was my father’s-” as he inserted the key into the driver's side and turned it, unlocking the doors before walking to the passenger side and opening the door with a hand held out to you.

Taking the boxed plates from your hands and placing them on the roof of the car, holding your hand as you eased into the vehicle.

Connected matte black seats meeting your eyes as you eased into the seat. Silent as he nervously tried explaining why he had the car, “H-he left it behind- and I didn’t wanna leave it to be sold.” He smiled, looking down at you as he held the frame of the door. 

“So you brought it with you?” You hummed, fiddling with your hands on your lap and looking at the interior.

“I stole it- yes.” he admitted without shame, leaning on the frame of the opened door.

Pulling off his jacket as your hands reached out to take it from him, a small ‘Thank you’ fell from his lips as you held it in your lap. His lips parted in a grin, looking at your expression as you pinched your eyebrows together. Reaching your hand down to the bothersome buckle that squeezed your ankle a little too tightly. 

Your fingers struggled to fix the issue as he watched you. Flashing your eyes up at him with an awkward giggle before you spoke, “When you rang the doorbell I accidentally pulled the-” You sighed, trying to pull the black strap from the bothersome buckle, “-the strap too tight.”

Choso smiled before mouthing an understanding ‘oh’ 

“May I?” he asked, frustration starting to seep from you and into him by just watching your aimless attempts. You eyed him, lowering himself to his knee, the other propped up as you turned your body to face him. 

Suddenly all too aware of the veins on the tops of his hands, the light arm hair on his outer forearms that were exposed from his rolled up sleeves. 

His calloused hand held open awaiting you to lift your dangling foot to his palm. Without a word, you lifted your ankle. Choso delicately placed his hand onto the back of your calf, your cold skin warming in his palm as he guided the back of the heel to rest atop his bent knee. Trailing his fingertips mindlessly on your skin as he gently unbuckled the silver rivet of the shoe. 

Feeling the instant relief as he slid the buckle into a neighboring notch. A warm blush forming on your cheeks as you watch his painted hands trail gentle touches on your skin.

“There?” he mumbled, looking up at you as his thumb settled on the protruding bone of your ankle. Only offering a blushed ‘Mhm’ from your dry throat as he laced the rest of the tiny strap beneath the metal. Your hand was clutched on the edge of the seat- if your grip tightened any more you’d scratch the pristine leather.

Choso gently placed his palm back onto your calf, easing your leg back down gently before he stood up again. “Now for the moment of truth.” he winced, taking a step back and leaving you with your feet on the ground.

You inhaled sharply as his hand rested on the door again, waiting for you to sit correctly. You turned your body back to face the windshield, he closed the door for you- reaching his hand on the roof of the car for the plates before walking to the drivers side.

With how easy it was to fluster him or make him nervous, you were unsure why out of the two of you- you were the one who was on the verge of hyperventilating from the innocent act of kindness. In your mind an obstacle presented itself; how you were expected to keep your composure for the rest of the evening. 

Your hand dared to tremble as you placed his heavy jacket on the center of the benched seat. Some kind of desperate attempt at a wall to keep you from acting on your self-indulgent thoughts. 

Hearing a small thud as he placed the plates on the roof again. The driver's door opened smoothly, Choso eased into the seat as he placed his hand on the wheel with the keys in hand, leaving his door open with one foot on the ground.

Choso cleared his throat as he turned the ignition, raising his eyebrows in hopes the car would turn on. A wave of relief washed over him when he heard the loud roar come from the muffler. Quiet music playing from the staticky radio breaking the silence.

He stepped out of the car once more, walking to the hood to grab the car cover he carelessly folded. Your eyes followed him as he slid the pair of plates from the roof and walked to the back of the car, your shoulders tense while trying to breathe. 

Flinching when you heard the trunk pound shut, clearing your throat when you saw him walk back to the opened door. 

He settled into the driver's seat once more, mindlessly picking up your attempt at a wall and placing his jacket onto the ledge of the rearview window, leaving nothing but air to keep you separate from him. 

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The drive was silent, the quiet radio music easing the tension in the air only you felt. Hands in your lap as you fiddled with your thumbs, Choso was unaware of your tense shoulders till he stopped at a red light. 

Looking over at you- your head locked forward and sitting very, very far away. The look on your face though, furrowed eyebrows and unblinking eyes, lips pressed tightly together as though you were in deep thought- that's what made him realize something was wrong. 

Replaying the last 10 minutes- not recalling a single snide comment or any attempts at flirting since he started driving.

He murmured your name- trying to pull you out of the thoughts that were whirling in your mind at that moment. Blinking your eyes and turning your head slightly, looking at Choso’s face that was illuminated by the red light. “Something wrong?”

You nodded your head ‘no’ intertwining your hands harshly together. Choso looked down to your latched hands, then back up to you with a perked brow- He didn't need to speak, you knew what he was asking with the look on his face. 

You inhaled, trying to find something clever to say- “M’trying to keep my hands to myself.” you murmured, looking out of the window, gathering he was driving into the neighboring city as your knees pointed to the door along with your head.

‘...hands to yourself..?’ Choso mentally repeated your words, not knowing why you had to try to, when you were never shy about it before.

Air caught in your throat at the realization you said that louder than you were expecting, “In a- a non creepy way.” you reiterated, scrunching your eyes together at the stutter in your words. 

Mentally you were cursing the stupid old traffic light that refused to turn green, even with the lack of cars around- it still beamed red. “Did I do something?” he asked, worried he offended you in some way. 

You sighed, “Yes-”, refusing to look at him, “Yes, you did something.” you muttered as you looked into the glass, staring at him through the reflection. 

“I’m sorry- I didn't mean to-” he started apologizing unknowing what he did- but it still felt like he had to. 

You let out a laugh that rang through his ears in the sound of a hymn, “You don't even know what you did.” corners of your lips twitching upwards, turning your knees over to him as he looked forward at the now green light- accelerating slowly as you scanned his side profile. 

“Must've been something worth an apology if you- of all people are keeping your hands to yourself.” he joked slyly. Only he meant to think those words- not actually say them to you.

You squinted your eyes at his banter, “Oh haha-” you grinned sarcastically, planting your hand onto the seat, “I'll make sure to keep ‘em to myself from now on if you feel that way.” You played, feeling your confidence soak back into your words. 

Choso turned his head slightly over to you, low eyes knowing you wouldn't be able to keep that declaration, dropping his hand from the bottom of the wheel as the other held onto the side of it, placing it on the black leather to tempt you. Suddenly the distance you set between you too was too evident- too far, his eyes were forward- watching the road. 

You gulped, scanning the top of his veiny hand, slowly you shifted closer to him.

Now close enough that he could sense you, “Choso?” you whispered, earning for a small hum to leave his throat, a childish smile on your lips “Can I hold your hand?” you spoke in a whisper- Choso furrowed his eyebrows at the question.

A gentle grin on his lips, “You don't need to ask me.” he whispered back, looking forward as he heard alarms and bells ring in his head from excitement. 

So as you scooched closer to Choso, he held his hand out for you. His heart couldn't help but beat at an alarming pace, so close your thigh was pressed against his. Your knees pointed in his direction as he felt his palm threaten to sweat. 

You slumped the tiniest bit into the matte seat, looking up at him as you gently took his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers with his as your other hand caged the back of his palm. 

Both of your hands overwhelmed his tender one, smiling as you leaned the side of your head onto his bicep. Resting your joined hands on the seam where his thigh ended and yours began.

“I've always liked your hands.” you mumbled, caressing your thumbs on his skin as he drove- he was grateful the sky was darkening. Cause he was so sure the blush he was sporting on his cheeks was starting to roam down his chest.

Choso’s breathing hitched- catching in his throat, “My h-hands?” feeling his heart pound in his chest. And for the foot that wasn't on the gas to start bouncing nervously. 

You giggled, “Yeah, your hands.” you hummed, unaware of the state you were pushing him to. “They're so pretty.” you complimented him with a tone only heard in his frantic dreams.

And as you scanned his jeweled hand engulfed by your own- the veins that trailed up his forearm beneath his pale skin proudly, you smiled as you pressed your thumb down onto a blood filled ridge on the top of his hand. Stopping the blood flow from the prominent vein. 

His mind was whirring in his skull- had you said anything else he would've had to pull over to catch his breath. 

But you didn't, no you only traced mindless doodles on his skin softly. ‘This has to be some kind of attempt on my life.’ his brain managed as the scent of your perfume infiltrated his nose.

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Though he was eternally grateful to be so- (some would say too close) to you, he felt his lungs able to breathe with a set pace once he found a parking spot in front of the building he was looking for. Streets full of couples as the moon started arising. Choso exhaled expectantly, switching the ignition off and feeling your grasp on his hand loosen.

“We’re here.” he practically choked out. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked onto the street, watching the people walking past the lit up glass doors. 

“What's here?” you grinned, straightening your back and looking at Choso, you were so very close to his face. The light on the roof of the car made it very obvious that he was blushing.

“A uh-” he inhaled the air between you, “A museum.” his shoulders were tense, looking from your eyes to the curve of your nose- darting back and forth from the cupid's bow of your lips back up to your eyes. You smiled hearing his hesitant tone- relishing the sight of pure nerves flooding in his pupils from how close you were. 

With an amused smile you snorted softly, “Ouu you want to kiss me sooo bad- I can see it-” you teased, earning for Choso to look away from you in embarrassment. 

And as you pulled your hands from his, he opened his door, mumbling small curses, racing to the passenger side- reminding himself that he needs to be polite and well-mannered.  

As he pulled your door open he held a hand out to you, giving you a brace to step out from the old car. 

The sight of your hand in his as you stepped from the car elegantly made one thing click in his mind. Choso felt in his heart that he would be more than happy- elated even, to do this with you every weekend till you were both old and wrinkly. 

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Hand in hand as you walked past the white walls. Stopping at any piece of art that caught your attention. 

Your eyebrows pulled tight as you looked at a piece painted black with glimmers of red. Choso’s eyes were on your profile as you examined the art, “What do you see?” he mumbled, looking back to the large canvas. Unable to understand how you could see meaning in a few colors. 

You sighed, tilting your head and staring at the streaks “It seems sad.” you whispered as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Like the person who painted this was distressed.” 

Choso didn't see what you saw- he saw a lazy attempt at modern art- “You can see it in the brush strokes-” you leaned over to him as you pointed to the seemingly violent brush strokes. He tried to see what you saw, “In the way they decided to use a little bit of red.” You continued, looking over to his lost expression.

When you walked into the room of sculptures you stared at an old wooden chair placed on a small platform with a harsh spotlight on it, “Performer.” you read the words on the silver plate at the bottom, “What do you see Choso?” you repeated his question as he stared at the chair.

He squinted his eyes before speaking, “I think it's a chair-”, feeling your elbow shove him gently. He sighed, “Well, the chair is old, and the spotlight is on it almost in a mocking way.” Choso expressed his depiction of the piece. “And the title signifies that the chair is a piece to be gawked at.” he muttered as you smiled at his intune thoughts.

He huffed, almost feeling like he said too much. “You?” he broke your silence as he looked back at you.

“I think it's just a chair.” you mocked with a perked smile. 

On the other end of the room there was a wired sculpture, if you looked in the right angle you'd be able to see the projected image within the silver wires.

You were tilting your head trying to make out the image, “I think it's a face?” you whispered as Choso furrowed his eyebrows, “Or two?” you squinted your eyes as you finally saw the image with a gratified exhale. 

Choso huffed- frustrated from how tedious this was. “How are you seeing anything?” he asked frustrated as his neck started to strain from how long he was tilting it. 

You dropped his hand- taking a step behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders, “Here.” you hummed, moving him to where you previously stood. “Lean down a little-” you whispered, you weren't able to see it- but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were tingling from your guidance. 

And as he lowered himself, you placed your hands onto the side of his head- angling it softly to this side as he allowed you to. You stood behind him- close enough for him to be able to feel your breath wisp on his nape. “Can you see it?” you whispered- Choso felt goosebumps form on his arms at your soft tone. 

You slid your hands from the side of his head- seeing him stay in place as he looked at the sculpture. “Can you?” you whispered as he raised himself back to stand up straight. 

He looked at you with a horrified look on his face, “Yeah I can.” he muttered before you took his hand in yours again. 

And when you found the room he specifically chose this museum for- he lit up with a smile.

“Art history-” you read the plaque on the wall.

Choso led you into the dimly lit room, “Finally some real art.” he muttered before turning the corner. Standing before the grand in size portraits- he looked at them in silence. Only you didn't find the same fascination in the old paintings as he did- you found the excitement that gleamed in his eyes more interesting than the dusty art works.

With every piece he knew, he'd tell you the tragedy behind them, star crossed lovers and small comments of the trageties- “Why are you looking at me like that?” he paused his previous sentence, looking at you worried that he was talking too much. 

You offered a timid smile, circling your thumb on his skin lovingly. Reaching a pinkie up to his temple and brushing away a loose strand from his temple, “I can't look at you now?” you murmured playfully, his eyes glimmered with shock at the sudden contact against his face. 

Choso diverted his eyes from your gaze, looking down to his shoes before mumbling, “You can't look at me like- that.” he felt his heart pound in his chest recalling the expression on your face with closed eyes. 

You giggled at his words, “Why not?” you pressed, being able to feel his hand tighten its grip on yours. 

He sighed, looking back up to your seemingly intoxicated face. Choso parted his lips, daring to say the first words that came to his mind. You raised your eyebrows and gripped his hand to urge him to give you a reason. “Cause I don't know what it means.” he retorted quietly.

You scoffed, an amused smile on your lips as you nodded your head. Not knowing how he could be so insightful in some ways and completely blind when it came to this. 

Your eyes scanned his features, “How many times do I have to tell you before you get it?” you quipped, seeing his eyes pool with confusion at your question. 

“I like you so much, Cho.” you whispered, seeing his eyebrows furrow harshly at the shortened version of his name. “I stare at you because I like you.” You assured, “I laugh at everything you say because I like you.”, watching his eyes blink down in timidness. In his mind, actually processing your words took a lot of effort. 

“Can I be honest?” you whispered, seeing his lips mouth an ‘okay.’ to your question. “I don’t think I've ever liked someone in the way I like you.” Choso exhaled at your words- mumbling a ‘stop’ as you smiled.

You exhaled, “I'm being serious. You're just-” you started, only for Choso to raise your hand and place it flat onto his chest. His eyes trembled as he looked at you with a stern but pained expression. You raised your eyebrows at how fast his heart pounded in his chest, explaining why he asked you to stop without words. 

Your lips curled into a sweet smile, pulling his hand that was wrapped around your wrist, holding your hand flat on his chest as you led his hand towards your exposed cleavage in attempts to show him how fast your own heart was beating.

Only for his eyes to widen and pull his hand from your grasp in shock- all but clutching his imaginary pearls as he hissed your name. Mortified to even think of touching you there. 

A small laugh left your throat at how he exclaimed your name. You were kind enough to not attempt to do that again- fearing his heart might go into cardiac arrest from being skin to skin. Instead you pulled your hand from his chest, guiding his opposite one onto your wrist and pressing his index and middle finger onto the pulse in your wrist. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he felt your racing pulse against his two fingers, “You make me just as nervous.” you whispered softly, smiling as he parted his lips. 

Choso softened his gaze, “You do a great job at hiding it.” he whispered back, recalling every moment his heart palpitated in his chest- wondering if all those times your heart was racing too. 

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“I think this is the first official date I've ever been on-”  you smiled, now standing outside. Thinking how stupid it was that the exit was on the other end of the building.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows, “First, first date you mean?” he clarified your statement assumingly.

You scoffed with a smile, “No, the only date I've ever been on.” seeing his expression fall in surprisement. 

Choso nodded his head as though that proclamation didn't make his heart burst in his chest, “Besides the times where we'd hang out after class- but I think this one is the first official one.” you grinned, pulling his hand with you as you turned to start walking back to the car. 

‘The times we’d hang out..?’ he thought, recalling the afternoons you'd spend with him. 

He inhaled quickly, “Those were dates?” he urged with a horrified look on his face, scanning at your profile. You looked at him as you stepped slowly.

Raising your eyebrows almost amused, “Well when two people like each other- and admit it to each other,” You taunted playfully, turning the corner of the sidewalk, “If both are consenting parties-” you continued your mocking tone as Choso listened to your words, to be sure he wouldn't miss hearing what you were saying.

“They start dating.” you teased, looking at him with a smile full of satisfaction.

In his mind, he replayed every moment from when he admitted he liked you till now- reevaluating them at the new information. With warm cheeks that were grazed by the cold air, “Are we..” he started, his palm becoming clammy against yours at the words he dared to spout. “Dating?” He asked, looking at you in a new light at that word.

No longer were you a person he liked- or a school friend. He was a person you were dating.

A soft chuckle left your throat at the dramatized words, “Don't tell me you just wanted to be a situationship?” you asked with feigned offense, furrowing your eyebrows as he listened to your words.

His face fell, trying to process the word you just said, “What is a situationship?” he asked almost scornfully at the unknown word as his grasp in your hand tightened. A sweet laugh left your throat at his question, not even being too sure of what that word meant yourself.

“Cho- are we dating or not?” you asked- turning the question around on him. His face went pink, both at the confrontation and the nickname- looking at you as though you hung the stars in the sky. You raised your eyebrows waiting for his reply. 

Choso tried to think- he tried using all 4 fried brain cells in his mind to formulate a proper sentence, but all his trembling lips could muster was one word;

“Yes.”

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The walk back to the car was silent- You were pleased with how much he blushed, how you practically forced him to confirm that your goal was achieved. 

Choso, on the other hand, had a mortified look on his face. The fear of taking the first step was long gone since the first 3 steps were already taken unbeknownst to him. In his mind he started seeing every possibility, every negative thing that could wait for him 10 miles down the road. Choso knew he should've been elated- but he couldn't help the heavy feeling in his chest as he thought of the future.

Staring at him lovingly, “Where to now?” you broke the silence as he opened the car door for you, holding your hand with trembling fingers as you eased into the vehicle.  

Choso hurried to the other side of the car, taking a deep breath before getting into it. Thinking how everything is different now- he drove this car as your friend and now he was driving it as a person you were dating.

You scooched back to the spot you previously sat in, “I hope you're hungry-” he started, his cheeks tingling as he felt your hand interlock with his again, “God– I am starving.” You interrupted, looking over to him with an enticing grin.

Choso smiled to himself, “I have a fridge full of groceries waiting for us.” he tried ignoring your tracing thumbs as he put the car in drive.

You reached a hand over and pushed a few stray strands of hair that blocked his profile from you. “You gonna cook for me?” You hummed sweetly, seeing the blush on his cheeks deepen. 

A small ‘Mhm’ left his lips as he pulled out of the street parking, you looked at him with adoring eyes, intoxicated on how close you were to him. “Those plates were definitely a good idea huh?” you asked smugly.

He sighed with a smile, “Yes. They were a phenomenal idea.” he fed into your boastful tone.

You looked at him, admiring that he cared enough to agree with you,“You’re so-” you hesitated as you tried to find the word, “So,” Choso was smiling as he awaited your words. You gritted your teeth- feeling cuteness aggression, “It's like I made you in a computer.” You smiled, hearing a hearty laugh from his chest.

The entire ride back to the campus- you didn't let go of his hand. The cringey love songs played on the radio quietly, with any song you recognized you’d tell him a memory from your upbringing. Grazing the tips of your fingers along his larger ones. 

Choso made sure to listen to every single word you'd speak into the air- “M’sorry I know I'm talking a lot-” you sighed, noticing he wasn’t replying to your words.

Hee scoffed, “Don't apologize- I like listening to you talk.” flashing his eyes over to you as you nodded your head in disbelief at how smoothe he could be at times.

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You didn't check your phone the entire time. So you were happily relishing in the peace you felt being in the presence of him. 

Walking past the entryway of his apartment, reaching into your coat pocket and taking it off as Choso reached for it in your hand, hanging it along with his on the coat rack. 

You checked the stupid piece of aluminum, widening your eyes at the countless messages from your overbearing roommate, and checking the time. 9:05 pm as you heard Choso set down the boxed plates onto the kitchen counter in front of you.

You sighed as you pulled out a barstool from the wall, furiously typing as Choso gently peeled off the tape from the box.

Looking across the kitchen counter at you as you settled on the barstool with furrowed eyebrows. Scanning your bugged expression, “Everything okay?” he pulled you from your thoughts. 

You sighed as you shut off the phone, placing it onto the counter faced down as you looked at him- completely defeated. “I’m moving out.” you claimed with a deadpan tone.

Choso looked at you from the cabinet, “What now?” he smiled as he reached for a pan. 

“I have like- 50 texts and 20 missed calls from my-” you were interrupted, Choso finished your sentence, ‘roommate’, watching as you huffed a sweet smile at how he knew what you were ranting about. “Regardless, I'm moving- even if I live on the street for a few days. I can't stay at that house anymore.” You sighed, watching Choso turn on two knobs on the stove. 

Looking at him with defeated eyes, “You won't live on the street.” he assured, turning around and opening the fridge. 

You rested your elbow on the counter, placing your chin in your hand as you watched him set various small containers of already prepared herbs onto the counter. “At the end of the day people really are disappointing aren't they?” you asked with a sigh, watching as he pulled out two pre-marinated chicken breasts from the fridge. 

Choso decided to ignore your previous statement- not wanting to sullen the mood even more, “Are they like this with your other roommates?” he asked with a smile, drizzling oil into the pan. Going to lower the heat on the small steel pot on the back burner before moving to stand in front of you. 

You watched as he slowly pulled his jewelry from his fingers, “No- if anything they enable their behavior.” eyeing the silver metal on the counter, your proclamation earning a sigh from Choso.

He noticed your eyes following his hands, furrowing his eyebrows at your gawking. “You need better roommates.” he declared, turning to the sink and washing his hands as you reached for the abandoned metal he left on the counter.  

As you rolled the warm metal in your hand you sighed, “I need to move out is what I need-” watching as he dried his hands. You smirked to yourself, “If I was your neighbor would you cook for me everyday?” You asked- half joking as he looked up from the searing pan.

Choso smiled at your question, picking up one of the raw chickens, “If you were my neighbor I’d cook for you anytime you asked.” he flashed his eyes up at you before placing the white meat into the pan, a loud sizzle coming from the action.

You rested your elbows onto the counter with a hearty giggle, “You say that now- But when m’knocking at your door 2-3 times a day- you can't complain.” you warned, watching as he let out a half laugh.

He picked up metal tongs from the utensil holder, “If you knock on my door 2-3 times a day- I won't have any reason to complain,” he spoke your name in reassurance as he flipped the grilling chicken on the other side. 

You laughed to yourself, not being able to sense any nervousness or hesitation in his words anymore, almost as though he gained more confidence in the past half hour. 

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As he plated the cooked chicken, you watched with a grumbling stomach. Almost drooling as he scooped a decent portion of mashed potatoes onto the brand new white plate, “God- that looks so good.” You bit your lip, reaching your hands to the plate. 

“Wait-” he held onto the edgeas he reached for a pre-cut lemon- squeezing it gently as the citrus glazed the browned chicken.

With a warm smile he spoke, “There- now you can eat it.” looking down to the beautifully plated meal, you sighed. Grabbing onto the edge of the plate and pulling it towards you.

You looked back to him, “I can wait for you-” you muttered, hoping he'd say no. 

He exhaled, smiling as he watched your eyes full of hunger flicker from him back down to your serving. “It's okay- you eat.” He assured, watching the smile return on your lips as you picked up the metal fork placed on the side of the plate. 

Choso watched you expectantly, the fork scraping against the plate as you sliced into the meat-piercing the chunk you cut off and lifting it to your lips, looking at him as you placed the fork into your mouth. The warmth from the grilled chicken landing on your tongue as you pulled the fork from your lips- leaving nothing on it with a sigh from your nose.

Chewing a few times as you closed your eyes, savoring the flavor between every bite. 

You swallowed, opening your eyes and nodding your head, “You're insane.” you mumbled, looking at his expression unchanged- not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Please finish cooking so I can eat more-” you joked, placing the fork onto your plate, he scoffed at the words that seemed like a compliment. 

And as you asked, he plated his own serving, not with a quarter as much love nor care- but it was infront him as he leaned down to take a bite, assuring you it was fine for you to continue eating. 

He hummed as he placed the fork down onto his plate, “I didn't even offer you anything to drink-” he scoffed to himself reaching to the cupboard above his head and pulling down two glass cups. 

You opened your mouth- hesitating to speak as you watched him turn to the fridge, “Not to sound alcohol-dependent or anything-” you grinned as he peeked back to you. “But do you…?” you insinuated with half lidded eyes. 

Choso sighed, “I don't. I have water and orange juice.” he mumbled, knowing exactly what you were trying to do- but he knew in his bones it wouldn't have been a good idea to let you drink right now. 

You gave a half laugh, “Water is fine.” you smiled as he reached into the fridge. Choosing to keep the bottle of ‘Titos’ he had a secret from you.

Pulling out a glass bottle from the fridge he had bought yesterday. Pouring water into your glass as you chewed on your affection infused meal. 

You placed down your fork, swallowing the previous bite before reaching for the cold glass. “You'd really be okay with me moving next door?” watching his eyes trail down to his plate.

Choso inhaled, “If it makes you happier- and not feel so stressed, I would let you move in here-” he spoke mindlessly, halting his chewing as he realized what he said. He inhaled sharply- feeling like your silence was deafening. He was about to apologize-

Only you laughed, “All my clothes would not fit in your closet.” you inhaled as you placed a bite of the mashed potatoes into your mouth. He huffed through his nose at your comment, pleased that you took it as a joke rather than how he truly meant it. 

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Somewhere between him finishing half of his meal and your 5th compliment on how fucking good the food tasted- a battle ship board was put up between you. 

Furrowed eyebrows staring back at you as he called out a number on the board. You hissed as you looked at your side of the game, “Nope.” you grinned as he gruffed at his attempts.

You were examining your grid, trying to use all the divination you could muster before he spoke up- “Did I tell you I'm thinking of getting a job?” he smiled, watching your furrowed eyebrows ease at the question. 

You gasped, “No! Don't do that-” holding a peg in your hand as his expression churned to confusion. “I won't be able to see you as often.” you pouted, looking down at your board. The words seemingly came unfiltered from your heart, and the sight of you pouting at the idea of not being able to see him as much anymore was more than enough to push that idiocy to the side.

And though you meant it as a half joke, it still pained you to know that now- of all times. When things were finally advancing, he'd pull away. 

“If you need money-” your lungs threatened to laugh at the words forming on your lips. “I'd be more than happy to pay for your time.” You spewed as though you were a sleazy 80 year old man speaking to a lady of the night. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows and parted his lips, “Like an escort??” he huffed a laugh, you looked up from your board with an entertained smile. “No- no, not like an escort-” you defended. 

Calling out a number on the board as he nodded his head. “Like a paid…” you thought of the word, “Though I can't call you a friend anymore can I?” You spoke to yourself as he scanned his side of the plastic game, smiling at the thought that you'd no longer hesitate when referring to him. 

He inhaled as he took a bite from the coldening food, looking over to your plate and seeing you had finished. “I thought you were broke?” he spoke thoughtlessly, not being able to feel the hesitance before he spoke now. 

Your smile fell, he squinted his eyes as you shook off the sudden heavy feeling- “You're that expensive?” you chirped, looking at him bewildered at the thought he might've taken your words seriously. 

Choso scoffed, “No, you don't have to pay me to hang out with you.” he reiterated, watching as you fiddled with the peg in your hand. Recalling your query of if he'd mind if you were his neighbor. “But I remember you said you were broke..?” he looked at you with detective eyes as you called out a square on the grid. Sucking his teeth when you actually hit one of his boats. 

You hummed as you avoided eye contact, “I uhh-” you lowered your shoulders and raised a brow, “I figured it out.” flashing a warm smile at him. Only you meant it in an assuring way- Choso saw past it. He saw the way your lips fell after you said that, the way your eyes dimmed from recalling what you were hiding. 

You cleared your throat, “Meaning, I can afford your company now.” you circled back to the silly topic with a smile, Choso sneered through his nose at your insistence. He opened his mouth to speak- but you spoke before he could. 

“What kind of job?” you looked at him, changing the topic before he called out a number on the grid. 

He sucked his teeth, “I was thinking at the library- Quiet, don't have to do a whole lot.” He muttered as he studied the target grid. “Or I could apply to be a TA.”squinting before calling out a number. 

You tightened your lips, mouthing a curse as you marked a small boat with a red peg. “Why now of all times?” you asked as you waited for him to call out another number.

Choso parted his lips- almost saying the words that popped into his mind before closing his mouth. “No- say what you were thinking.” you caught onto the little habit he had developed since he was a child.

He smiled at your attentiveness, “I was thinking, now that I’m..” looking at you with a blushing smile, you raised your eyebrows, all but saying ‘go on.’

“Now that I am seeing someone.” he murmured, looking down at the board embarrassed and trying to ignore your gaze, you laughed at his avoidant eyes. 

You inhaled, nodding your head ‘no’ disapprovingly. “You don't need to get a job just because we're dating, Cho.” you assured, standing from the barstool and taking a step around the end of the kitchen counter, standing before his figure as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Look at all the times we've hung out- not once did we need money or to go out to have fun.” placing a hand on his bicep and squeezing gently to affirm your words even more. 

Choso inhaled, “Would it be enough?” he muttered as he looked down to his shoes. You scoffed, trailing your hand down to his forearm, then to his hand. 

“I would be more than fulfilled if all we did was stay here and play board games day after day.” you whispered, holding your hand gently in his as he felt his throat close up-

He looked back to you with creased eyebrows, the tip of his nose daring to turn pink from an expression that looked close to tears. “You want a hug?” you asked sweetly, hearing a sniffle from his nose before pulling you to him.

Your hands wrapped around his waist as his arms rested atop your shoulders, holding you tightly as your bodies came together in a perfect mold. Choso held one hand on the back of your neck softly, the other pressed taut between your shoulder blades as you smiled into his chest, circling your hands soothingly on his spine, he sniffled before speaking.

“Be honest. Did you come over here to look at where my boats were?” you breathed out- defeated that he saw through your plot. Pulling away from him as his hands hesisted to let you go from the hug that felt like home. 

You looked at him with a cheeky smile, “I did.” you nodded, looking over to his side of the board and seeing you were close to winning by a few more pegs. You looked back to him, parting your lips expectantly as he took a step back.

‘Be well-mannered’ Choso thought as he watched you brush off the slight disappointment. 

He cleared his throat, “I think it's time to take you home.” he smiled, watching your eyes blink down to your shoes that had to be uncomfortable by now. 

⋆ ⁺  .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚ ⊹⋆ ⁺  .⋆

The trip to your house was short now that there was a car, and yet- you still held onto him as though it was the last time you'd have the chance to. 

Choso parked on the opposite side of the street, turning off the car as your eyes looked at the wooden door across the street almost resentfully. “Ready?” he asked, knowing you’d refuse to face the music were he not there. 

With a begrudged exhale, you nodded your head. 

Choso held the car door open for you, holding your hand as you stepped onto the street. You almost resented how polite he was- knowing if it were anyone else they would have invited you to stay the night- regardless if it was a first date. 

But not him, Choso didn't dare to even think of asking that of you.

And as you stood before him on your unlit porch, you smiled, “Thank you.” with a whisper, looking into his eyes as he scanned the prominent aspects of your face.

“Don't thank me.” he murmured, his voice low and throaty as he watched the sparkle in your eye round your pupil. 

With a modist smile, you looked at him impatiently. “I think this is where you kiss me goodnight.” you leaned forward mere millimeters as Choso refused to step back this time. 

He gulped at your words, “It wouldn't be polite.” he dissuaded lowly as you grinned innocently. 

Close enough that you were breathing the same air- “It would be more impolite not to, Choso.” you compelled, watching his gaze dart from your lips back to your eyes. 

He raised his hands to the side of your face- thumbs caressing your temples softly, parting your lips as his fingers kept a light touch beneath your ears. You fluttered your eyes closed as you heard ringing in your mind, cheeks warm and tingling as you awaited.

Only you awaited something to press against your lips- But Choso had other plans.

His parted lips pressed onto the center of your forehead, pulling away with your head in his hands. It wasn't disappointment- more like a challenge that you felt. “Goodnight,” he spoke your name in an intoxicating tone, softly taking his hands from your face and taking a step back from you.

You couldn't help but smile at his chivalry, “You're cruel.” you whispered, earning a quiet half-laugh from his chest. 

“It’s not respectful to kiss you on a first date.” He scolded playfully, watching you roll your eyes lightheartedly. 

You stared at him as you leaned your back onto the door, placing your hand on the brass knob before sucking your teeth. “When is a respectful time then?” you murmured, watching his hands slide into his coat pockets.

“Third. Maybe even fourth date.” he smiled, knowing that would gain a feigned groan of dissatisfaction from you. Though it was earlier than you'd like-  10:43 to be exact, you were still grateful he was courteous enough to bring you back home as though you had a curfew. 

“Goodnight Cho.” you smiled, turning the brass knob as he kept his eyes on you.

Were the porch light on you’d be able to see the beaming blush on his cheeks, “Goodnight.” he replied sweetly, watching as you stepped into your house, taking one last look at him before waving a small goodbye. 

Choso was able to contain the excitement in his throat till he turned away from your porch, his lungs threatening to start hyperventilating as he tried to confirm with himself if that actually just happened. He stood at the car door- looking up at the sky and thanking whatever celestial being was out there for the lucky hand he was dealt. 

There was one thought in his mind at that moment. He was now sure that you made him feel more alive and far less lost than he felt without you. And he relished in that thought as he drove back to his apartment, no longer fearing the future- if anything he was thrilled to know that for the first time, love finally loved him back.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

and if I told you I over indulged sooo much in this chapter??? and if i said........ I almost hemorrhaged writing this?!!! this was too cute, (just wait till I write abt the first time they have sex) And if you're curious- yes the rewarding cigarette was delicious.

[pwblant]

15. another pov

winter rushed to sunoo’s place, hoping to help fix whatever was going on with y/n and belle. she threw on a puffer jacket and slid into her fluffy boots before heading out. luckily, sunoo’s apartment wasn’t far, and the walk was familiar—she used to visit y/n all the time. but ever since the fight, she hadn’t been back.

in the elevator, winter pressed the button for the 6th floor, tapping her fingers nervously against her palm. when she arrived, she knocked lightly.

“sunoo! it’s minjeong,” she called, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the neighbors.

“give me a second!” sunoo’s voice echoed from inside.

when the door opened, he stood there half-dressed, wearing a strange mix of casual home clothes and something that looked ready for the outside.

“seriously? you’re not ready yet?” winter teased, crossing her arms.

“five minutes! i promise,” he begged, flashing his best pleading eyes.

“fine. but i’m counting.” she leaned against the counter, watching him scramble.

10:20 am, dec. 18

sunoo finally emerged, slipping on his jacket. “so, where are we going?”

“combo cafe’s close by. i doubt y/n’s working today, so we should be good,” winter replied, adjusting her scarf.

“great. let’s just hope we don’t run into her…”

as they approached the elevator, they spotted y/n and belle waiting at the end of the hall. the four of them froze.

winter opened her mouth to greet them, but the words wouldn’t come out. neither y/n nor belle said anything either, and instead, they waited for the next elevator.

“well… at least we know she’s not at work,” winter mumbled, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

when they reached the cafe, the rich scent of coffee filled the air. as they stood in line, the man ahead of them sighed at the counter.

“oh, she’s on break? I see. just an iced americano then, thanks.”

he turned around, and winter’s eyes widened. “park wonbin?” she whispered, leaning closer to sunoo.

wonbin caught her gaze and gave a polite nod. “if you’re asking for a picture, i’m not able to rig—”

“are you looking for y/n?” sunoo cut in.

wonbin blinked, clearly caught off guard. “what?”

“you’re looking for y/n, right?” sunoo repeated, watching wonbin’s reaction carefully.

wonbin hesitated for a second, then sighed. “yeah… i’ve been trying to reach her. i think she blocked me. do you… know her?”

“we do—well, more like we did. something came between us and we came here to the cafe to fix just that. we didn’t expect to run into you today,” minjeong replied. “she talked about you a lot.” she added.

“i guess we’re on the same page then, i’ve been wanting to fix something with her as well,” wonbin said, scratching the back of his neck.

“ever since i left, i’ve been wanting to invite her to my concert, but i’ve never gotten the chance until today, I’ve been busy the entire time and I feel terrible for not reaching out to her,” he added quietly.

“how about we exchange numbers and come up with a plan to fix things?” sunoo suggested.

“how do i know i can trust you though?” wonbin asked, still feeling a little unsure.

sunoo hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone, showing her number along with old messages with y/n. wonbin chuckled softly. “yeah… that does sound like her.”

they exchanged contacts, and wonbin left, glancing back one last time before heading out the door.

“oh my days, what just happened,” minjeong laughed, shaking her head. everything that had just happened felt surreal.

“I have no idea, but I hope this goes well,” sunoo exhaled, leaning back against the counter.

—

masterlist | next

TAGLIST : OPEN (comment to be added)

@binoyu @sqh3e @antosaurius @yoursyuno @jvngw0nlvr @dorritoni @dudekiss3r @tadadw @choc0br3ad

[letstripdotcom]

losing sleep - matt sturniolo x fem!reader pt.2

summary: matt sturniolo was the boy you hated most. it wasn’t always that way. one day he just decided he hated everything about you. that was until you slowly started to break down every wall off hatred and anger.

warnings: smuttt🤸‍♀️

matt’s pov:

i woke up the next morning still wrapped around y/n. i looked down and noticed she was already awake. “matt?” she spoke softly as if it was hard to form words. “thank you so much, but i know you don’t wanna be here so you can leave.”

“are you sure” i asked. “yes matt you’ve done enough and i’m so thankful.” i sighed as i stood up. “i’m gonna go grab canes, do you want anything” i asked looking at her. “i don’t know i’m not really hungry” she sighed.

i got in my car and headed to canes. i got my food, and i ordered a box combo no slaw extra toast, which was her favorite. i know she said she didn’t want anything but i know better. i went back to the house, and when i got there nick was home. i knocked on his door and held up the food. “this is for y/n whenever she’s hungry.” i told nick. “okay we’ll she’s sleeping right now but i’ll let her know when she wakes up” he said closing the door.

i went to my room and contemplated for hours. why did she kiss me that night? why did she want me gone so bad? does she even remember? does she hate me? i’m such an asshole for treating her so badly. i had so many things i wanted to say to her, so many questions to ask, but now wasn’t the time.

-

a month passes and i still haven’t talked to y/n about that night. i haven’t talked to her at all. she’s at my house like usual and she’s on the couch watching a movie with nick and chris. she makes a comment and chris looks back at me, expecting me to have a rude comment, but instead i continue what i was doing.

i grab my keys off the hook. “hey i’m going to mcdonald’s, do y’all want anything?” i ask. in unison they all say no. i walk out the door and head to my car. i’m not really hungry but i need to clear my mind. i ordered my food and ate in the parking lot alone.

-

y/ns pov

i was on the couch when my phone rang. i looked down at the contact on my phone and i was caught of guard when i read the name. “matthew sturniolo” why was matt calling me? i answer the phone with a “hello?”

matt: “am i on speaker?”

me: “no why”

matt: “can you go in the other room, i need to talk to you.”

me: “okay… i’m in nicks room. what’s up?”

i was still so confused by what was going on

matt: “do you remember the night you kissed me?”

me: “what are you talking about?”

matt: “the night when we finished a whole bottle of pink whitney by your pool”

me: “we kissed?”

matt: “then you told me to leave and you couldn’t do ‘this’ anymore. you said you didn’t want to see me again”

me: “i was drunk matt i don’t remember that”

matt: “you don’t?”

me: “matt-“

matt: “i thought you knew. this whole time i thought you remembered that night just as clearly as i did.”

matt’s voice broke on the other line

matt: “you seriously don’t remember?”

me: “you haven’t spoke to me since that night how would i remember.”

matt: i’ll be there in 10

the phone hung up. i looked down with a confused look on my face. “is everything okay” nick asked as i hurried towards the door. “it’s fine just give me a second” i told him hurrying out the door. when i stepped outside, the rain was pouring. i waited for matt, and his van pulled up a little less than 10 minutes later.

i ran over to him. i didn’t care about the rain, i needed answers. “matt!” i yelled. “y/n we need to talk” he said getting out of the van so he could stand in front of me. we were both now soaked from the rain.

“on the night you said you couldn’t do ‘this’ anymore” he spoke “what was ‘this’ and why have you shut me out ever sense?” there was a moment of silence “did you ever care about me y/n?”

i let out a deep breath as if i was preparing for the worst. “i shut you out because i fucking loved you matt. i was so scared of the idea of losing you then i actually did lose you. this is all a misunderstanding. i never meant to go ghost on you i was drunk and i was a stupid girl in love! and i tried to talk to you so many times matt don’t you remeber? couldn’t you tell how in love with you i was? i don’t kiss anyone” i was crying now. i know i looked like an idiot but i could help it.

“this was all a fucking misunderstanding y/n” he huffed and pushed me against the side of the van as he kissed me. “wow that’s much more enjoyable sober.” he said against my lips and kissed me again. i melted into the kiss. he bit my bottom lip making me moan. that gave his tongue access to enter my mouth. his tongue explored my mouth for a bit as he licked across my top teeth.

he pushed me out of the way and opened up the door to the backseat of his car. he got on top of me and ripped off my shirt, slowly sucking on the exposed skin. “matt” i moaned, but it came out as more of a sigh. i untied his sweatpants and pulled them down, exposing his boxers.

i palmed him which made him whimper. “fuck y/n” god that really turned me on. he pulled down my pants and my panties leaving me fully exposed other than my bra covering my chest. he rubbed my clit in painfully show circles. “wow you’re soaked” he teased me for a while, then rammed his fingers into me when i least expected. “MATT FUCKKK” i nearly screamed

“god your screams are so beautiful” he slowed down his pace for a minute before speeding back up. my back arched off the seat and my legs shook. “matt i’m gonna cum” i was breathing heavy.

he took his fingers out and i whined. it was kind of embarrassing because of the past me and matt have. if this didn’t mean anything i didn’t want go give him anything to use against me. matt removed his boxers and i could now see how long his dick was

“oh my god m-matt” i gasped “you can take it i promise” he reassured. “please matt” i let out such a needy moan. he then slammed into me not going slowly at all, but thankfully, he gave me a second to adjust to his size. “ok matt i’m ready” i said clawing my nails into his back. he started thrusting insanely fast. going all the way out and all the way back in, making my eyes roll so far back i thought they would get stuck. i threw my head back and dug my heels into the seat

“see y/n i told you. you’re taking me so well” he halfway moaned.

my legs shook and i clenched around him causing his mouth to fall open. “oh my god y/n you don’t know what you’re doing to me” i then let out the most high pitched moan so loud i swore the foggy windows could shatter. i came all over matt and he fucked into me steadily as i came.

shorty after his hips start to stutter and his thrusts get sloppy. he cums inside of me, painting my walls white. he pulls out of me and catches his breath. “i’m so glad i can quit pretending to hate you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: i feel like this part wasn’t based off the song as much as the first one so i put twily by taylor swift bc i feel like the part in the rain rly fits and all that jazz. anyways hope you liked bc i hate it😍