#there’s still stuff I could do with this

[aikoiya]

Okay, I LOVE this sort of stuff. It just makes my entire day.

The Hylian written languages are a mess, man. But it’s nice seeing how they vary and how that’d affect how the Links communicate. I thought it’d be fun to share this since apparently written Hylian isn’t like, common knowledge in the fandom. Might be useful for art or the alike maybe? not sure

(really long post so. under a read more it goes! TL;DR of what’s in here: talking about and showing the written Hylian in almost all Zelda games, similarities between some, brief appearances in other games, and what writing system each Link would use according to all of this (basing it on the LU AU’s Links, but it could apply to any other Zelda AU out there), plus me trying to Connect The Dots™)

Keep reading

[retiredteabag]

I’m listening to you

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

Synopsis: You stop talking because you assume they aren’t listening… how silly of you, but how do they react?

my masterlist

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Satoru

It would probably be like any other day, he had probably just come back from a mission, laying across the couch and you would be in the kitchen making a snack board as you talked about numerous different things.

The conversation would shift through a multitude of topics as one thing would then reminded you of the next.

As you were getting the chips, you would explain the drama at work after that you would go and get some hummus while you explained the love life of one of your coworkers thereafter you would be reminded of a friend of yours from high school while piling up some cheese cubes.

Throughout all of this, there were very few breaks in your speech. When you finally came to the living room, Satoru would be facing towards you, with his head slightly tilted back on the armrest and his feet dangling off the other edge.

You could see him, just not very well. His blindfold would also be on, not an uncommon occurrence, but it would still be hard for you to see the slight changes in his facial features that typically depicted his emotions to you.

After awhile, you might start to wonder if he was feeling tired from the mission or if he just wasn’t paying attention. It’s okay, getting distracted happens to everyone sometimes.

Your words would taper off.

Believe me when I say it would not take this man any longer than say…five seconds for his head to raise and voice to pipe up,

“Well what happened next?”

And with a grabby hand he would add,

“Aren’t you gonna share those?”

Turning to point at the snacks in your lap.

For such a chatty guy, you would be surprised by how much he enjoyed just listening to others. Especially if it meant listening to you.

Nanami

Let’s be realistic here, this man would never take his undivided attention away from you.

That being said, the situation would be a little bit different with him. You guys would probably be out for coffee. Maybe the both of you had been busy for a while and felt the need to make a day out of catching up.

You know that embarrassing feeling when you get the notion you’ve been talking too much? It would be something like that.

You would have been gesturing and looking around the room while you talked about this and that. Unbeknownst to you, he would have hearts in his eyes while he listened to your ramblings.

That sudden itch would get to you though, the notion that, maaaaaaaaybe you have been talking about yourself too long.

One quick look at your man caused a shiver to run up your back at the eye contact.

There would be a pause in your speech, and he would nod at you to encourage more words to spill fourth, but now you were all flustered.

You would trip over your words, stuttering every so often before eventually apologizing.

“What is it, dear?”

He would ask, after a moment of you trying to collect yourself, he would assume that you had simply lost your train of thought and remind you of the topics you had been previously sharing.

You would thank him even though that wouldn’t have been the issue at all.

How could you not get shy when he was looking at you like that?

Choso

This would have to occur after a long day. Either during nap time or before you both went to bed.

He would be laying his head on your chest as you played with his freed hair. Talking about stuff you had seen online, talking about your plans for the next day, talking about what you were planning to eat for lunch tomorrow, the list could go on.

Every so often he would hum or nod his head. But after a while, you would look down and see that his eyes were closed.

It wasn’t hurtful, or embarrassing. It has been a long day for the both of you, and he was probably just tired. He often fell asleep easily when you combed through his hair with your nails. So you wouldn’t be offended as you go silent.

After you stop talking, though, he would grab your free hand and fiddle with your fingers, saying,

“I like those tacos too… we should get lunch together!”

You would giggle and tug on a lock of his hair, “I thought you were asleep.”

He would spin around onto his chest, chin pressed slightly into you while he looked up at your eyes through those big, long, lashes of his, “But you were talking to me?”

Sukuna

This man :| he would get offended if you insinuated that you could possibly be boring him.

Of course, it would be his fault, too. He would complain and whine all the time about how uninterested he was in your life. Griping that he had better things to do than just sit around and listen to you talk.

But don’t misunderstand, there was nothing he desired more than to watchyou speak about things that impassioned you.

But perhaps one of those instances you would take to heart, he was a busy man after all. It’s not like he had all the time in the world to listen to you yap about nonsense.

So after a long while in his chambers, you would just kind of go silent. ‘Allowing’ him a little time to himself.

Just earlier that day, you would have been telling him a story about one of your fellow workers at the estate. Sukuna had rolled his eyes at the incompetence of his staff as you giggled on about how a man got his hand stuck in a jar full of fertilizer.

You would take his disinterested countenance to assume that he was bored with you. For someone so ancient, he did have an attention span fitting to the times.

He always told you not to make assumptions about him, but after him asking you on several occasions, “and why are you telling me this?” You couldn’t help or conclude that he wasn’t all that interested.

I’ll tell you now. As much as he would like to pretend that was the case, it is far from the truth.

He would frown while laying on his bed. “Why did you stop?”

You would spin around, slightly surprised that he had even been paying attention. “Oh I just thought maybe I was boring you…”

That would cause him to sit up, scowling in your direction, “Did I say that?”

“Well…”

“Did. I. Say. That.”

“…no?”

Undeniably, sassy, he would splay out his arms in a “see??” type of motion. Waiting rather impatiently for you to continue on so he could relax to the sound of his lovers soothing voice while pretending to be impartial to it all.

Toji

This prick.

He wouldn’t do a thing lol

This man would let you assume he isn’t listening, let you think he’s off somewhere else, let you think he’s checked out.

But that could not be more wrong.

Maybe he’s eating his lunch, or watching tv, or texting someone. Whatever the case, there’s nothing he’s more locked into than your words.

In fact, it would take you a while into your relationship for you to realize this, but sometimes you would have to be careful around Toji because once you said something, this man would remember it forever.

You probably wouldn’t even think about it when you stopped talking, deciding to put your efforts into something else. But Toji would notice.

He wouldn’t bring it up though, not for days. But eventually he would crack the conversation back again, flipping the newspaper over and avoiding your eyes.

You would spin around on him, wondering how he even knew the things he was talking about. Then it would hit you.

“Wait… you were listening?”

He would scoff, elbows on the table, finally looking at you over his reading glasses. “Excuse me?” He would point an accusatory finger at you and set down the paper. “Was I listening?”

You would gape at him open mouthed, “Well… how was I supposed to know?”

He would roll his eyes in the most dramatic of fashions, getting up from the kitchen table to stroll over to you. “Please,” he would groan, grazing a knuckle over your neck,

“You’ve always got my attention.”

Yuuji

One might think this would happen early on in the relationship but I would argue this situation would happen after years together.

Why? Well, Yuuji is a super excitable guy, he also just loves talking to you. You both make a great pair because the two of you always converse in a way suitable to each other.

For example, sometimes you’d interrupt one another, never in a rude way, but in a way that shows passion about the topic at hand. That would bring on a whole new discussion and keep the conversation flowing.

Yuuji was a great listener when he needed to be but mainly he was a great conversationalist. Neither of you needed to do heavy lifting when you talked. It was great!

After awhile though, the two of you would become more and more comfortable around one another and more accustomed to the way you spoke.

That’s why it was so weird to see him less active in a conversation. He wasn’t interjecting with his little agreements or experiences. He would still be looking at you, but it was different.

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he might just be uninterested in the topic so you would get all quiet, focusing on something else until he spoke up.

“No, keep talking.”

Grinning at you, he looked just like he always did.

“You’re not bored?”

He would squint, confused at the notion, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little quiet I guess.”

But he would just smile at you, “I don’t know what it is… but recently I’ve been liking just admiring you.”

He would say things like that out of the blue all the time by the way.

“Yuuuuujiiiii” you would groan.

“What? Doesn’t mean I’m not listening!”

Megumi

Inversely to Yuuji, this would happen with Megumi early on in y’all’s relationship, likely pre-relationship when the two of you were just getting to know one another.

Megumi wasn’t really shy at all, he was more reserved, even though you weren’t all that talkative, he could still unintentionally make you feel like a blabbermouth at times.

The two of you would probably have been out on a walk together, or maybe in the cafeteria getting lunch, wherever, you would have been sharing some piece of yourself with him.

It would also probably have been a long time since he had spoke up. Sometimes he wouldn’t even give listening cues so it’s not too unusual to suppose that he was checked out.

Megumi was NOT checked out though. He was filing every little word you said away into his brain, and thinking of the best way to respond to you.

You might not know this though, so after awhile you might get all shy, suddenly looking off, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Embarrassed that he hadn’t heard a word, that’s when he would turn to you,

“I’m listening.”

Simple as that.

Reassuring but not overly affectionate.

He would do it in public and in private. If you were in a group and he could tell your confidence was slipping he would jump in to let you know that he cared about your thoughts and opinions.

And like in this instance when it was just the two of you, he might reach over to grab your hand, letting you know,

“I’m still here.”

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[oikarma]

we keep this love in a photograph

pairing: lando norris x wolff!reader

summary: toto wolff's daughter and his golden boy, kimi antonelli. match in heaven, right? despite all the cute pics taken of you and kimi over the years, it turns out you might like boys behind the cameras more.

a/n: thank you sm for being my first request!! this was really cute and fun to write and i hope you like it.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kimi.antonelli, francolapinto and 770,341 others

y/nwolff: found a new photographer

view all 12,097 comments

olliebearman: idk what you're talking about p1 is nice but whoever was holding the camera in p3 did a horrible job

y/nwolff: yeah idk who that rat is 🤷‍♀️ must've snuck into the frame kimi.antonelli: why do you insist on hurting me

user1: soft launch??

user2: girl she's been posting him for years now we need real confirmation user3: but they'd look so cute together 🥺 user2: @/user2 that's what we've all been sayinggg

francolapinto: pfft what photographer i could do better

y/nwolff: take me out to dinner and we'll see user4: uh oh someone's never getting a mercedes seat user5: @/user4 PLEASE toto probably gave kimi his seat to make sure he'd treat y/n well franco might be getting a little something sent his way

user6: mother and the guy she's dating

user7: i literally love you y/n

lando: where's the "thank you lando for inviting me to this lovely dinner"

y/nwolff: i literally already repaid you 😒 lando: i guess i like calling in favors user8: they're so sibling coded

y/nscloset: immaculate style as always * liked by y/nwolff

totowolff_original: No drinking and driving.

y/nwolff: tell that to kimi i still don't have my license

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liked by username1 and 530,192 others

f1gossipofficial: 5 years of kimiyn! our fav bestfriend duo - or maybe something more?

tagged: kimi.antonelli, y/nwolff

view all 7,006 comments

user1: confirmation whennn

user2: so basically they've been teasing us since the last decade??

user3: maybe they don't want it to affect kimi's public view? they might think toto has a preference for him cause of him and y/n user4: @/user3 well the two of them certainly aren't private about their friendship

user5: i need what they have 😭

user6: if only i was pretty and rich and toto wolff's daughter and my boyfriend was pretty and rich and a formula one driver who drove for my dad

user7: they never hard launched but the cutest couple on the grid frfr

user8: guys! my friend and i were passing by this paddle place near where she lives and she saw y/n and kimi going inside. he was carrying her stuff (bags, drink) for her while she was yapping at 3000 miles an hour and she was blushing so hard

user9: what a gentleman user10: drop the loc please i'll be signing up for a yearly membership

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and 701,328 others

y/nwolff: guess who got his ass whooped

tagged: kimi.antonelli, lando

view all 9,125 comments

totowolff_original: No cursing, Y/N.

y/nwolff: sorry dad i just had to rub it in ☹️ y/nwolff: promise i won't do it next time

kimi.antonelli: i swear you hate me

y/nwolff: it's a hate love thing kimi kimi.antonelli: where is the love???? user1: IS THIS KIMIYN CONFIRMED

lando: guess who got her ass whooped

y/nwolff: idk not me lando: 🤨 ru sure about that user2: not them bickering again lmaoo

user2: yes girl get your man

user3: kimi trying to help y/n against lando was so cute

user4: RIGHT he was all heart eyes

user5: ofc the photographer she was talking ab last post was him

user6: kimi serving romcom tortured boy love interest

user7: the way i understood this immediately is concerning

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff and 901,339 others

lando: nothing like a friendly match

view all 21,483 comments

user1: the way i thought that was his 🫣

user2: same girl same

user3: whoever took this photo needs a raise we're getting all the offseason lando content we need

user4: lando were you making sure kimi and y/n weren't getting too handsy

user5: poor guy having to thirdwheel

y/nwolff: nothing like a big ego

lando: you like it user6: hello?? why is it getting hot in here user7: @/user6 dont be weird they're like siblings user8: idk that was not a sibling comment...toto what are your thoughts on this

user9: hes so fine oh my god

mclaren: staying in shape during off-season i see

lando: aren't you proud of me admin

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by y/nwolff, totowolff_official and 870,193 others

kimi.antonelli: bit of a downgrade

tagged: lando, y/nwolff

view all 7,034 comments

user1: lando what are you doing in the tags 😭

user2: check his stories, he was having dinner w y/n and kimi maybe they wanted to bike around the city together

user3: he looks so fine on that bike

mercedesamgf1: looking sharp today, kimi

kimi.antonelli: thanks! user4: it's the girlfriend effect

y/nwolff: yeah you had hair in the first pic

kimi.antonelli: why do i put up with you y/nwolff: because i'm fun 🫶 much love user5: y/n be nice to your man he's balding from the stress

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by olliebearman and 270,145 others

f1gossipofficial: SPOTTED! kimi antonelli, y/n wolff, and lando norris spending time together during the off-season

view all 5,018 comments

user1: barbie and two kens

user2: i love how kimi is just in the background

user3: am i crazy or is this giving landoyn...like i can't unsee it

user4: and she's been posting him a lot recently.. user5: you're all crazy there's no way

user6: why is ollie in the likes

user7: she's so stunning

user8: giving mom, dad, and angsty teenager

user9: nono it's mother and son bonding while dad is on the phone user10: wtf is this family

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by totowolff_official and 1,039,472 others

y/nwolff: we kiss a lot, hope this helps ❤️

tagged: lando

view all 40,193 comments

user1: my kimiyn heart...

user2: absolutely RADIANT

totowolff_official: You better not be in the McLaren paddock or start wearing orange all the time.

y/nwolff: but i have to show my boy support!! totowolff_official: You can do it in private. lando: i promise she will sir user3: DID HE JUST- user4: freaky ahh user5: toto's comments backfiring LMAOO

user6: oml that one girl on twt was right

supermaxmaxmax: I WAS!!! im not crazy!!!

user7: is this what kimi meant by being downgraded lolol

kimi.antonelli: yes i went from friend to furniture y/nwolff: stfu you're still my best friend he's just more than that lando: yeah i'm a lot to take in at once 😉 user8: ????????

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

lando has added to their stories

[caption: too busy to be holding the camera this time]

replies:

user1: lando why you gripping onto her like that

y/nwolff: woah i look so hot

lando: you are very hot

user2: mother and fatherr 🛐

user3: poor kimi 😭 having to thirdwheel and having to be photographer

kimi.antonelli: i'm doing god's work here

lando: either you're improving, or maybe you just have great subjects 😊

[suiana]

fellas, have you ever wondered if a man could ever be as adorable and cute as a baby kitten? well now you can experience and love on in real life! suiana presents to you innocent! yandere and smitten reader ❤️

your very own innocent boy who doesn't even know what NNN or OF means. his instagram feed is full of baking and and clothing ideas, he goes out to help stray animals, and he goes on daily walks to the park to reconnect with nature. he has no idea what a skibidi toilet is, brain completely nourished with the books he borrows from the library. yeah, this guy smells like bread and cookies too btw, he does lots of baking. and cooking. have i mentioned he's completely skilled in the kitchen? yeah, he is.

by some stroke of luck, you meet him one day and... look, he's just the cutest thing ever! i mean, he's fashionable, smells good, and was even defending a stray dog from being bullied by some kids. so you ask him out on a date, but the second you ask him the question you swear you could just die on the spot... because tell me why his entire face is red and he's genuinely so happy??? all smiley faced and blushing like a tomato???

oh it's his first time getting asked out and he's flustered??? he's never been approached by anyone before??? he thinks you're really attractive and he would like to go out on a date too??? oh my god guys, he's even asking if you're comfortable with him rambling like this and not trying to get too close without your consent😭

anyway the two of you go out on a date and you think you just might marry him on the spot with how much of a gentleman he's being??? INSISTING on paying for your meal, respecting your distance and being genuinely curious about you on a deeper level. no mention of hooking up, being casual fwb or anything like that. he's... actually looking for a serious relationship unlike your previous partners? holy shit? so you asked him his thoughts on cheating and some other stuff...

"so what are your thoughts on cheating?"

"cheating?"

"yeah, like when you get with someone else when you're dating."

"isn't that illegal?"

HELLO??? he thinks cheating is ILLEGAL??? you had to spend the rest of your date trying not to cry or hug him because he ended up finding out some devastating news.

"yes... cheating is illegal unfortunately."

"I don't know why. it should be illegal, that is a very bad thing to do 😦 do people actually cheat? really? no way."

UGRHGRGR you two end up dating and he's the sweetest guy you've been with. cute date nights, reassurance that you're perfect and enough, handmade gifts and deep talks into the night that deepen your bond together... the only problem is just that maybe he's a little too sweet.

he's constantly buying you gifts, telling you how much he appreciates you and just... being the perfect boyfriend? the perfect clingy boyfriend.

at first you found it cute. but...

why is he so in love with you? why is he so nice? you don't know what to do with a man as sweet as him and can only give into his seemingly harmful actions. you used to think that he had an ulterior motive but... you don't know whether you're being deceived or not. why would you? he's not being manipulative. how could he ever be manipulative? he's just a sweet and nice green flag!

asking you to always be with him? that's just a romantic thing everyone else says. chasing away any people who shows the slightest bit of interest, even if it's not confirmed to be romantic? what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't do that? asking for your location if you ever try to go out without him? silly lover, why would you worry him like that?

no no, he's not being possessive. okay, maybe he is. it's just a tiny bit though! surely you're fine with that. after all, he's still treating you like the royalty that you are. he should be allowed some grace for his unwillingness to share.

you're not sure whether or not he's truly innocent or not. was he even innocent to begin with? maybe, maybe not. perhaps it was all just an act...

but you shouldn't think that. why would you think badly of your boyfriend who's only ever been sweet to you? even during fights, he doesn't raise his voice and actively listens to you, trying to resolve the issue. he could never want to hurt you.

after all, he's your innocent boyfriend that you're smitten with, right?

[lucifers-simp]

I'm actually nauseous rn and I still have nor figured out how to make Karlach horns

I wish I was still in high school so I could just bother (and maybe bribe) my math teacher to do the hard stuff for me

Math is really tiring, im so glad i finally get to relax and do some knitting and crochet and i oh god oh my what the fuck

[calypso-rt]

When Rafe Realizes...

He’s Falling for You

-> Rafe x F!Reader

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light over the backyard as Rafe leaned back in his chair, the legs precariously balanced on the uneven patio bricks.

You were sitting beside him, scrolling on your phone, the occasional sound of your laughter breaking through the hum of cicadas.

He wasn’t sure when it started, but lately, he found himself watching you more than he should...at least more than someone who was supposedly "just friends" should.

He told himself it was harmless. You were easy to look at, after all, with your beautiful hair catching the light and your lips quirking into tiny smirks when you read something funny.

"Rafe," you said, your voice cutting through his daydream. You barely look up, your attention still on your screen. "Your hair is doing that weird thing again."

"My hair doesn’t do a weird thing," he shot back defensively, running a hand through it out of instinct.

You snorted, finally glancing up at him. "It absolutely does. Hold still."

Before he could protest, you leaned in, your fingers brushing against his forehead as you flattened a rogue piece that had sprung up, defying gravity. The touch was brief, just the lightest pressure of your hand smoothing over his hair, but Rafe felt his entire body tense like he’d just been electrocuted.

"There," you said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. "Now you look less like a mad scientist."

"I didn’t look like a mad scientist," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

"You kinda did," you teased, your focus already back on your phone.

Rafe leaned back again, a smug retort dying on his tongue as he felt the ghost of your touch still lingering. It wasn’t like you’d done anything grand. Just fixed his hair.

People did that kind of stuff all the time, right?

Except… no one else did it to him. And certainly not like that. There was something so natural about the way you’d reached over, like it was second nature, like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to touch him.

And now he was stuck, hyperaware of how the air still smelled faintly of your sunscreen from when you’d leaned in.

How the air between you had felt charged, even though you’d gone back to scrolling like it was nothing.

He shifted in his seat, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. How could something so insignificant make him feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs?

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you laugh softly at something on your phone, oblivious to his internal crisis. He swallowed hard, his chair tipping back a little further as he tried to refocus.

How does something so insignificant feel so important?

"Careful," you warned without looking up. "Fall off that chair and I’m not driving you to the ER."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

You had no idea, did you?

No idea that one absent-minded touch had just tipped his entire world off balance.

"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, finally steadying himself.

You gave him a fleeting smile, one he tried to memorize. Because somewhere in the chaos of his overthinking, Rafe Cameron was beginning to realize something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

He was falling for you, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Rafe leaned against the counter of the grocery store, pretending to scroll on his phone while you wandered the aisles. He hadn’t even wanted to stop here, but you’d insisted on grabbing snacks before heading to the beach.

"What’s the big deal? It’s just food," he’d grumbled earlier, but you’d only rolled your eyes and dragged him along anyway.

Now he was waiting impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds. “You done yet?” he called out.

“Almost!” you yelled back. “I’m looking for something specific.”

He sighed dramatically. “We’re going to miss the sunset at this rate.”

When you finally rounded the corner, a triumphant grin on your face, you were holding a bag of… lemon pepper sunflower seeds?

“What’s that for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked at him, clearly unimpressed. “For you, obviously.”

Rafe stared at the bag, then back at you. “What?”

“You told me a few weeks ago you used to eat these all the time when you were a kid. Remember? You said your dad used to bring them home after his fishing trips.”

For a moment, he was silent, caught completely off guard.

He had mentioned that, hadn’t he?

Some random memory he’d thrown out one evening, barely thinking about it. It wasn’t even important. Just some passing detail about his childhood.

But here you were, holding a bag of sunflower seeds like it was the most normal thing in the world to remember something so small.

“I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Didn’t think I’d what? Listen to you?” you teased, tossing the bag into the basket.

“Well… yeah,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I always listen, Rafe. You just don’t talk enough for me to prove it.”

There was a lightness to your tone, but the words hit him harder than he expected. You listened to him. Actually listened. To the stuff no one else cared about, the random memories he’d barely even registered himself.

“Sheesh,” you said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “If I’d known this would blow your mind, I would’ve grabbed these for you weeks ago.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but he was smiling now, following you toward the register.

As you paid, chatting casually with the cashier, Rafe kept glancing at the bag of sunflower seeds in your basket. Something so simple, but it made him feel… seen. Like you actually cared about the parts of him that most people ignored.

Walking out of the store, he finally nudged your shoulder. “Thanks. For, uh, remembering that.”

“Of course,” you said, flashing him a grin. “Just don’t eat them all at once. I’m not buying more if you get another craving later.”

He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside you. Inside, though, his chest felt warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

She actually listens to me, he thought, stealing a glance at you as you debated what playlist to put on in the car. How is she so thoughtful?

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slid into place. He was falling for you, headfirst and helplessly, and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like a drumline gone rogue. Your car sat lifeless on the shoulder of a backroad, hazards blinking uselessly in the downpour.

You’d tried everything.

Turning the key again and again, Googling quick fixes, even giving the steering wheel a good, frustrated whack.

Nothing worked.

Which is how you ended up sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from your earlier attempt to check under the hood, dialing a number you swore you wouldn’t use unless it was an absolute emergency.

“Rafe?” you said when he picked up, voice sheepish.

He immediately picked up on the edge in your tone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing,” you rushed to say, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “My car broke down, and it’s pouring, and I’m kind of stuck on the side of the road. I just… I didn’t know who else to call or...or what to do...”

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the rain hammering against your windshield and the faint noise of his car’s radio in the background.

“Where are you?” he said, tone clipped and serious.

You gave him the location, muttering something about how you didn’t want to bother him if he was busy, but he cut you off.

“Stay put. Lock your doors. I’ll be there in ten.”

True to his word, Rafe’s truck pulled up exactly ten minutes later, tires skidding slightly as he parked in front of your car. You barely had time to roll down your window before he was at your door, an umbrella in one hand and an intense look in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to peer inside.

“Yeah, just a little damp,” you joked, gesturing to your soggy clothes.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he opened your door and handed you the umbrella before crouching to look under your hood himself.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you said, feeling a little guilty as you watched him fiddle with something. “I could’ve called a tow truck.”

“Yeah, and waited an hour for them to show up while sitting out here alone?” he shot back, not even looking up. “Not a chance.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.

“Rafe, I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine,” he interrupted, standing up straight and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Your car’s dead, you’re soaking wet, and it’s pitch black out here. What if someone stopped by who wasn’t me, huh?”

The thought made your stomach flip, but you tried to shake it off. “I had my doors locked.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

You stared at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic panic. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I care about you!” he snapped before freezing, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You… care about me?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I care, okay? I don’t like the thought of you being stuck out here alone in the middle of nowhere. It freaks me out.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The Rafe you knew was cocky and confident, never flustered or vulnerable like this. Seeing him so visibly shaken made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Well,” you said softly, “thanks for coming to my rescue.”

He finally looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. “Always.”

You smiled, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield him from the rain. “Guess you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t let that get around.”

As he helped you into his truck, soaking wet and dripping water all over his leather seats, he couldn’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

You shivered, hugging your arms to your chest in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.

Rafe’s eyes softened for a split second before he quickly reached for the spare jacket in the back seat, tossing it to you. “Here,” he muttered. “Put this on before you freeze to death.”

You gave him a grateful, but shaky, smile, slipping the jacket on. “Thanks, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond, but you caught the way he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. The warmth of his jacket, the concern in his eyes, it was enough to make the cold rain outside feel like nothing.

She called me. Out of everyone, she called me.

And that’s when it hit him, hard and fast like a tidal wave. He wasn’t just smitten. He was utterly and completely gone for you.

Rafe sat back in his chair, his gaze lazily sweeping over the busy café. He had his usual coffee in front of him: black, no sugar, no cream.

Just the way he liked it.

It was a Saturday morning, and the place was a bit quieter than usual, with only a handful of people scattered at tables around him. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup as his mind wandered.

He was halfway through a text to a friend when he noticed something that made him stop mid-typing.

You had slid to sit across from him, sipping on your own cup of coffee. When you lowered it, you caught his eye and gave a small smile.

"Coffee’s perfect today," you commented, stirring it absentmindedly.

Rafe blinked, then stared at your cup for a second. It was identical to his: black, no sugar, no cream.

"You—" he started, his voice trailing off in confusion. You hadn’t ordered the same thing, had you? No, you always chose the caramel latte, but you had started transitioning to more bitter coffee...

His eyebrows furrowed, watching you take another sip.

"What?" you asked, noticing his stare.

"Why’d you..." Rafe caught himself. "Never mind."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. You’d been unconsciously drinking your coffee just the way he did. Had you even noticed?

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze not leaving you. You’d also been humming that same song he had been listening to on repeat all week. An old track by some band he'd introduced you to, one that had been stuck in his head for days.

When you softly hummed the chorus as you fidgeted with your phone, he couldn’t help but grin.

"You always hum that?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

You stopped and blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize it was the same one we were playing the other day, though."

He sat forward slightly, his eyes searching your face for a moment, trying to figure out if you were joking, but there was something in the way you said it that made it clear: you weren’t aware of the little things.

How, over the past few weeks, your habits had begun to align with his.

And in that moment, Rafe felt a quiet thrill spread through him. You were becoming his person without even trying. Without even realizing it.

He leaned back, smiling to himself, then took a sip of his coffee. “Guess we’ve got the same taste,” he said with a half smirk, watching you carefully for your reaction.

You looked at him and shrugged again, clearly clueless about what had just happened.

"Guess so," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

Rafe’s heart gave a small, almost imperceptible flutter.

You weren’t his yet. Not officially, at least. But in this small, unspoken moment, he was already beginning to feel like you were.

You had spent hours upon hours, which felt like minutes, talking, joking around, and watching ridiculous movies with stupid plots, chowing down on various snacks.

The door had clicked shut behind you with the usual soft thud, and now that you were gone, he couldn’t help but feel that sharp pang of longing in his chest. It was like someone had tugged at something deep inside him, pulling a part of himself along with you as you left.

Rafe’s lips pressed together, and his gaze drifted to the spot on the couch where you had just been sitting.

When did she start taking up so much space in my life?

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true it was. Every time you were around, everything felt just a little more... right.

Even the way the silence between the two of you felt more like a conversation than an awkward pause.

With a groan, he grabbed his phone, half-wishing he could text you to come back, but he knew that was ridiculous. You’d left, and it was just the way things were.

Still, as he sat there in the quiet, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten so used to your presence in his life.

And how much he already missed it.

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love: l'amour de ma vie || joe burrow x reader

description: a little bridge between the last part of YAIL into part 5 which will be coming soon! little moments from the france trip and some stuff from home 🖤

universe: you are in love (click for parts 1-4 of the series)

a/n: been in my drafts since June of 2024. and here she is :) would love some feedback and if you’d like to see more of this for this series!

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87 @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

📍cannes, france

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, killatrav, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: ocean blue eyes, looking in mine

comments:

joeyb_9: la plus belle fille que j'ai jamais vue

——— y/n_y/ln: tu me rends le plus heureux 😙😙

——— fan14: he said she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. shut the fuck up oh my god

——— fan938: did she just say he makes her the happiest? oh pack it up fellas it's wraps

fan6: i can’t believe we’re back to her casually posting my relationship era. thank you joe burrow for your services 🫡

fan1348: i don’t even know who’s winning in this relationship like they’re both HOT as fuck

y/bsf: 🛥️ the ship has sailed folks

fan_71: the heart on his back? god when is it my turn

fan273: they’re so cute 🥲

fan28288: that caption feels oddly like song lyrics y/n 😟

fan1717: i am so happy for her 🥺 she deserves this after all these years

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📍cannes, france

liked by: y/n_y/ln, lahjay_10, jjetas2, killatrav, y/bsf_21, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: photo dump?

comments:

y/n_y/ln: he’s learninggg 🤞

——— joeyb_9: creds to the best 🧎‍♂️

y/n_y/ln: wear that alo two piece more often. damn 🤤

——— joeyb_9: yes ma’am 🫡

—————— lahjay_10: aye 🤨

fan226: y/n has joe doing photo dumps now? are we in heaven?

fan9191: everytime they pop up on my feed my jaw drops because I still can’t believe it’s true

fan8877: he brought her with him to the events 🥺

fan5874: atta boy joe! winning on and off the field like a true king

fan2727: that last photo of her...hello. HELLO

lahjay_10: i was in baton rouge for 5 seconds and shiesty went hollywood? damn

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📍french riviera

liked by: enews, bengalslover47, y/ncollective, ybsf_21, wasitover_10, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: love is officially in bloom under the french riviera sun! 🌹✨ multi-platinum and grammy award winning artist, y/n and superstar NFL quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, joe burrow were spotted on an intimate stroll through the charming streets of cannes, looking completely smitten with one another. from soft smiles to stolen glances, the chemistry between these two is undeniable. after months of speculation, their outings in france seem to confirm what fans have been buzzing about: romance is in full swing and the fans are here for it! could this be the new power couple we’ve been waiting for? 🖤

#cannesinlove #yxj #couplegoals #romanceinfrance

comments:

bengalslover47: the king of cincy has finally found his queen everyone. may she bring us good luck and make joe the happiest he's ever been. amen

y/ncollective: ARM PLACEMENTS? and she looks so small next to him 💗

y/nfan0: oh joey b you are so loved by us.

fan8: qb1 scoring touchdowns on and off the field. y’all are the ultimate power couple

fan38: can we talk about how joe went from breaking defenses to breaking hearts? he just bagged the woman of the CENTURY

——— fan.18: every man and woman in america just fell to their knees

fan9_: oooooof her new album is going to HIT

——— fan!6: new album? did i miss something

—————— fan9_: grammy's coming up...she always goes out with a bang then 👀 just connecting some dots

rulethejungle5: and they said i was crazy when i said i heard some things around town about these two

xoxogossipgirllover: i need to get the scoop on these two! damn 😍🔥

fan3893_0: INJECT IT INTO MY VIENS MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING

fan84: anyone notice y/n's best friend liked the post? tea ☕️

fan82828: oh the album is coming everyone. it’s coming soon. WE MADE IT

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📍paris, france

liked by: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9, usweekly, bengalslover47, y/ncollective, ybsf_21, wasitover_10, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: spotted: y/n and joe burrow turning heads in paris, strolling hand in hand and serving effortlessly chic looks 👀✨ with fashion week just around the corner, fans are buzzing about whether this stylish duo might make an appearance. whatever the occasion, one thing’s for sure—they’re absolutely owning the parisian streets!

an exclusive source has confirmed their relationship, revealing that joe and y/n are very happy together and share a connection built on trust, understanding, and mutual respect. their relationship has been growing behind the scenes for much longer than anyone realized, and their bond is stronger than ever. y/n has fully embraced life in cincinnati, and together they’ve created a solid foundation that balances their busy lives with a love that feels effortless. right now, they’re focused on enjoying each other and making memories—and it’s safe to say, happiness looks good on them. 💕

#parislove #yxj #styleandgrace #fashionweekvibes

comments:

fan9493: FIRST PAP WALK? IN PARISSS? oh we are so back y/n nation. that girl is in LOVE

y/ncollective: they look phenomenal

y/nfan0: manifesting a fashion week appearance

fan02: peep both their likes on this post...

fan-19: wonder if their gonna go to vouge world?

——— gridback_news: 👀👀

fan521_: this photo would do numbers on wattpad a few years ago

fan91: she seems so much happier and comfortable with joe. that’s how you know she’s thriving again. just look at them

fan18_brq: embraced life in cincy? and that’s a big fuck you to her ex! wack him again for me HAHAH

xoxogossipgirllover: i heard that they'll be at YSL's show tomorrow...watch this space

fan0101: wait…how long have they actually been together because-

fan3939: i need football season to come faster. need her in the stands this year!!! she has such great style

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📍paris, france

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, jjetas2, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, gracieabrams, ysl, sabrinacarpenter, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: thank you for an amazing night @ ysl 🖤

comments:

y/bsf_21: god damn you look amazing

——— y/n_y/n: i love you 💞

joeyb_9: starry skies 🌌

——— y/n_y/ln: ...starry eyes?

—————— joeyb_9: ....darkest nights?

———————————— fan3010: what are they talking about 🤨

lahjay10_: lookin fly mademoiselle

——— y/n_y/ln: feelin fly uno 😴

fan9393: oh they absolutely ate this up. 10/10 no notes

ysl: thank you both for joining us!

joeyb_9: beautiful as always

——— y/n_y/ln: lover 💘

bengals: 👑 🐅

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📍vogue world

liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan4949, enews, and 1.5 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

gridback_news: breaking alert 🚨: y/n spotted looking absolutely stunning at the vogue world fashion show, where rumors are swirling that her boyfriend, joe burrow, is set to make his runway debut alongside friend and fellow nfl star, justin jefferson 🏈✨ sources say y/n is here to cheer joe on as he steps into the world of high fashion for the first time, sharing in what’s sure to be a monumental moment for him. from the field to the runway, this power couple is proving they’re unstoppable 🔥

#vogueworld #joeburrow #yxj #fashionmeetsfootball

comments: have been limited under this post

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📍pfw

liked by: y/n_y/ln, jjetas2, lahjay10_, bengals, y_bsf21, samhubbard, vouge, killatrav, and 5.6 million others

tagged: vouge, y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: with @ vougemagazine doing some new things :)

comments:

y/n_y/ln: i am so so so proud of you joey ❤️

——— joeyb_9: my biggest cheerleader. ilyttmats

—————— fan383: did he...did he just quote "seven"? OH MY GOD HE QUOTED SEVEN

—————— fan29: im going to be sick this is so 🥲

jjetas2: shiesty in all black

samhubbard: nice 😎

fan302: peak couple behavior is the matching loubitans. we're witnessing the couple of the decade y'all. buckle up

y/n_y/ln: put the back away joseph lee there's people around 😦

——— joeyb_9: why don't you come help me out then ;)

—————— y_bsf21: guys...there's people watching

————————— y/n_y/ln: oopsies 🙊

bengals: alright joe! 🐅

killatrav: 🔥

vouge: a natural star 🌟

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📍fashion week

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan11, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: come here dressed in black now

comments:

joeyb_9: bestest week with l'amour de ma vie

——— y/n_y/ln: 🥹

—————— y/ncollective: joe please keep her this happy im not okay :(

——— fan39: LOVE OF HIS LIFE!! HE SAID LOVE OF HIS LIFE

—————— fan30303: WHAT

taylorswift: love it!!!! you both killed it :)

——— y/n_y/ln: 💗

fan3003: love seeing them happy together! they both deserve this

fan1991: has anyone noticed the black theme/aesthetic she has going on? her last few posts have been…dark

——— fan181.y/n_: wait a second. you’re onto something??

fan111: give me that album now rachel. GIVE IT TO ME.

loverofy/n: girl we need new music. like NOW

fan9339-_: already the most iconic couple we've seen in years.

lahjay10_: y'all killin it 🙂‍↕️

——— y/n_y/ln: we miss youuuu

——— joeyb_9: dinner at our place when we get back?

vouge: a beauty ✨

fan2882: how much y’all wanna bet that her caption is song lyrics

y_bsf21: STUNNER? HOT? JOE MOVE OVER

——— y/n_y/ln: im in tears joe's giving me a frowny face because he feels threatened

—————— y_bsf_21: good.

——— joeyb_9: I will NOT be moving over ma'am

enews: setting the streets of paris on fire as well as all our hearts 💕🥰

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joeyb_9 via Instagram Stories

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--The End--

stay tuned for you are in love V

[heartlessvirgo]

Ojitos Lindos

Summary:

A fresh-faced DEA agent, new to Colombia, has zero time for Javier Peña after he leaves her hanging once.

Paring: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+MDNI, Swearing, Kissing, heavy petting, protected sex, oral, butt stuff kinda? Drug use, Mention of weapons and kidnap.

Word Count: 10.4K

A/N: Jesus Christ, this one really got out of hand. I always do this, I need to learn how to stop yapping and make my stories shorter lol. I apologize in advance for this one guys. Anyways, I hope you like this one.

You were an idiot. Plain and simple. You’d done dumb, even dangerous shit in college, but this? This was next level. Pathetic. And you knew it. Still, you couldn’t stop the flush in your cheeks every time the restaurant door swung open.

You were smart—everyone had told you your whole life. Top of your class, with a dual degree in Criminology and International Relations. So, how could you fall for something like this? Life just had to knock you on your ass at least once, and apparently, this was the time.

Stirring the cherry in your rum and coke, you noticed your lipstick had smudged from the copious times you'd licked your lips raw. It was hopeless. When you slammed the pesos on the table and stormed out, there was only one thing you were certain of.

Fuck Javier Peña.

Right after the New Year, you transferred to the DEA’s Colombia office—a move you had meticulously planned for years. This was the culmination of countless late nights spent buried in textbooks while your peers were out living their carefree college days. Now, in your mid-twenties, you have the credentials and the career to validate your sacrifices.

The initial weeks felt like stepping into a dream. The sunlit days, the vibrant culture, and the sense of purpose invigorated you. You had bought a new wardrobe to handle Colombia’s sweltering heat, eager to embrace the change in climate and your life. This was your moment—a chance to shed the reserved persona and finally unlock the vibrant, confident woman you had always felt trapped beneath layers of responsibility and caution.

That's why, after your first week, when Agent Peña noticed you, it felt like everything was falling into place. He was unbelievably handsome, undeniably skilled at his job, and you couldn't help but notice had a tight ass in even tighter jeans. It was a heady combination—one that made you think, just for a moment, that maybe things would go your way. 

He asked you out in that casual, sly way—one that should've been a red flag. Right by the copy machine, just as you bent down to grab a manila folder. But you didn’t see it then. You were new, and no one had warned you—not that you would have listened. So, you got ready hours in advance, took a taxi to the restaurant, and waited.

He never showed. Not a word afterward either, no acknowledgment that you’d waited over two hours at the place he told you to meet him. From that moment on, you swore you’d give him a hard time whenever you could. Javier, with his stupid smug grin, annoyingly handsome face, and the infuriating way he slipped under your skin like he had a map to all your weak spots.

You turn the corner just as you hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, the familiar rush of irritation bubbles to the surface. The hair on the back of your neck stands as if pointing you toward danger. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…

Strolling down the hallway with that damned confident swagger. Agent Peña makes long strides as he matches your speed and walks beside you. He cocks his head to the side, lips twitching up into a smirk. 

“Cariño, you look better and better each day.” his voice is sultry and smooth like a chocolate bar left out in the sun all day. 

“Agent Peña,” your voice is professional, cold, distant—eyes narrowing to a tunnel vision before you. 

“You wound me with your integrity. I think as friends, we are on a first-name basis now,” he replies, hand on his chest in false hurt. 

You bite back a sharp retort, feeling a knot of frustration curl in your stomach. "We are not friends; we are coworkers, if that," you respond, your voice as chilly as a sheet of ice. Your steps quicken as you wish the hallway would end, your mind swirling with one question—how did he even find you down here, in the quiet, shadowy corners of the DEA?

He keeps pace, his presence unwavering. “Ah, come on now,” he says, the edge of amusement in his voice. “You can’t tell me we haven’t already crossed that line.” His tone is a smirk, lingering in the air like perfume, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“There is no line,” you retort.

"I see your professionalism hasn't dulled your beauty," Peña murmurs, his voice dripping with that same sultry warmth. 

He walks a little closer, his head turned towards you, not hiding the subtle delight in his eyes. "Come on, you can’t be that cold, cariño. You and I know what happens when ice melts…” he bumps your shoulder and you stop midstride. He walks a little further before stopping, half turning back. He’s wearing one of his formal suits, a blue button up underneath a cream suit jacket. 

“What do you want?” You can tell he’s not here for pleasantries. He’s got that look in his eyes—like he’s got something in mind, and it sure as hell isn’t sweet small talk. He turns back to face you, observing you slowly, taking in how your hair falls differently today and how your heels click a bit louder on the floor.

He smirks, shifts his jaw, then parts his lips. “What makes you think I want something?”

You can almost hear the defensiveness in his voice, but you’re not fooled. You tilt your head, unimpressed. “I think we both know ‘bullshit’ is your middle name.”

He chuckles low, a sound that’s almost a warning in itself. “Such a blunt little thing. Colombia’s rubbed off on you, huh?”

You don’t flinch, meeting his gaze with a steady stare. “Am I wrong?”

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance between you just enough to make things feel... interesting. His lips curl up at the corners as if savoring the tension.

“Bullshit, huh?” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to that smooth, almost too confident tone. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”

You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Cut the shit. You need access to a file, right? Which one?” 

His smile falters briefly, but he regains his cool almost immediately. “I was hoping you could help me with that.” 

You raise an eyebrow, looking at the files in your arms, the top stamped ‘confidential.’ “Do you have authorization? Papers, forms...?”

He shifts his weight, the slightest trace of impatience flickering behind his casual demeanor. “I don’t have time for red tape.”

You don’t back down, your gaze unwavering. “Did you fill out the proper forms? Because without them, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

His smirk is still there, but there’s a glint in his eyes now—amusement mixed with a hint of challenge. “Well, I’ll just have to talk you into it.”

You shake your head, not giving in. “Not without the right paperwork. You know the rules.”

He takes another step forward, just enough to make the air between you thicken. “I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

You feel your lips twitch into a smirk. “Maybe. But I’m also the one with the file you want.”

He smirks right back, intrigued but not ready to let it go. “Do me this favor, Please, Solo esta vez.” He says it so sweetly, reaching over to brush his fingertips against your arm, brown eyes so tender. 

You feel the pull of his gaze but keep your composure. “No hay favores sin autorización, Peña.” You make sure your words are clear—no favors without authorization.

It feels exhilarating to stand in his way, to deny him what he expects—or, in this case, what he asks so damn nicely. There’s a quiet power in it as he fixes his gaze on you, his eyes flicking down to the file on top of the stack. You can almost feel the weight of the unspoken history behind his gaze—he's probably never heard "no" before, not as a child, and certainly not now. And in this moment, it feels sweeter than it should to be the one who says it.

“Huh,” he scoffs after a moment. "Maybe Colombia’s been good for you after all." 

You walk away, pointedly ignoring him, praying he isn’t watching your ass with every sway of your hips. You focus instead on your route, heading back to drop off the files. A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips as you make your way to your office, the image of his disappointed expression lingering in your mind.

As you finish packing up for the day, Camila appears at the foot of your office, her purse casually slung over her shoulder.

“We’re heading out for drinks. You in?” Camila asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as you collect your keys.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind—refusing due to the bottle of chardonnay waiting for you at home. But something holds you back. It’s Friday. You’ve been telling yourself you’d break out of your shell this year, that being a homebody wasn’t part of the plan.

“Yeah,” you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess yourself. “Sounds fun.”

While finishing your makeup, you sip a glass of wine, the soft hum of anticipation building as you call for a taxi. The click of your heels echoes in the stairwell, a near stumble reminding you of their height as you descend from your apartment. When you arrive at the bar, your eyes sweep the room, spotting your coworkers. The black, form-fitting dress you chose hugs your curves, drawing more than a few glances as you enter.

“There you are!” Camila calls out over the pulsating music as you approach the bar. She flashes a grin and motions toward a lively group in the corner, some engrossed in darts, others deep in conversation. “We’ve got a table over there.”

Your gaze sweeps over the group, a soft smile tugging at your lips as Camila adds your drink to her tab.

“Is she new?” you murmur, subtly nodding toward the striking blonde in the blazing red dress. The fabric clings to her tall frame, accentuating her height—she even towers over you in your heels.

Camila squints, following your gaze, her eyes widening in recognition when they land on the woman.

“Fresh out of college, filling the front desk position,” she leans in, her voice low in your ear. You purse your lips, remembering what it felt like to be the new blood in a den of lions.

“How’s she doing?” you ask.

Camila shrugs. “Can’t type for shit, but she’s picking it up. We all start somewhere.”

You nod, taking a sip from your drink, letting the conversation settle with a quiet understanding.

You settle in with your coworkers, the laughter and music blending into a comforting backdrop. The evening feels light and carefree until a quiet ripple of attention shifts the mood at your table. Curious, you glance over your shoulder to see what’s caught their focus.

There he is—Agent Peña, standing impossibly close to the new hire. She’s leaning casually against the bar top, her elbows resting on the worn wood, while he hovers beside her, his arm resting just behind her back. His light-wash jeans fit snugly, the red button-up tucked in just enough to emphasize his lean waist.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest—a memory, a pang of annoyance. You almost scoff but catch yourself, the sight all too familiar. Not long ago, you were the naive girl standing in her place, drawn into his web of effortless charm.

“What a man-whore,” you mutter to the women beside you. They nod, silent yet captivated, unable to deny the allure of watching him work. His moves are calculated yet smooth, like how he leans in to light the cigarette resting between her lips, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I heard he sleeps with women to get information about the guerrillas," Camila says, the rumor so absurd it almost makes you laugh. But then again, you have no idea what happens beyond the office walls. Your world is confined to the stale scent of cigarettes and the endless rustle of paper.

"Why would they risk their lives for sex...with him?" you say, the disbelief apparent in your voice, tinged with laughter. The alcohol is loosening your tongue, making you bolder than usual.

Camila leans in, her tone more serious as she says your name, drawing the attention of the women at the table, who suddenly avert their eyes. "There’s got to be a reason he sleeps around, right? Maybe he’s just... really good at it?" she suggests, and you scoff, shaking your head. You don’t believe that; no one could be that good at sex.

Isabel nods, and a few other women follow suit. You swallow hard, the realization settling heavily in your chest: he’d slept with all of them, used them. The looks of quiet resignation on their faces send a sharp pang through you as they watch him, a silent understanding shared between them.

A heavy silence lingers at the table, the weight of old wounds too much to bear. You can’t stand it anymore. Standing up, you excuse yourself without a word, heading to the bar to order one last drink before closing out for the night.

“Let me get this one,” you hear and feel someone slip in beside you. It's Agent Murphy, and he offers you a warm smile. Of the two, you always preferred Murphy. He was respectful—always saying "please" and "thank you," never once flirting with you. You’d even shared dinners with his wife at his home several times. If the DEA building were on fire, you’d choose to save Steve over Peña without a second thought. Did that make you a bad person?

“How are you getting home?” he asks, his tone casual as he slides a few pesos onto the bar before turning to face the crowd, his back to the counter.

“Probably a taxi. I didn’t bring my car,” you reply, nursing your drink as the two of you watch the ebb and flow of people around you.

“Let me give ya a ride home,” he says, and you feel the familiar burn of alcohol easing in your chest. 

“I’ll be fine, really. It’s out of your way,” you wave him off, trying to sound casual. You’ve never had an issue with taxis before, and the pepper spray in your purse gives you some comfort. Not to mention, you’re no stranger to self-defense.

“Don’t argue with me,” he replies, lifting his beer to his lips. “Connie’d kill me if she found out I let you take a damn taxi in this country.”

You exhale a sigh, nodding at his insistence. His chivalry is almost endearing in its persistence. You glance at Peña, a fleeting thought passing through your mind: Why couldn’t he be more like Murphy? Your gaze then diverts to the table, where the women still observe Peña and the new hire. They’re tangled together now, their mouths colliding, the kiss hungry and unrestrained, leaving little to the imagination.

You look away, trying to hold it together and avoid vomiting on the bar floor.

“Javier still asking for favors?” Murphy asks, pulling your focus back to him.

“He knows the answer’s always no. Whatever he wants, it’s not coming from me. I’ve got to stick to the rules, even if the rest of them are crooked,” you say, setting your empty glass down on the bar.

“I told ‘em to stop asking, especially with the promotion and all,” he mutters. But there’s no stopping Peña—not even Murphy. You haven’t forgotten about the promotion you’ve been working your ass off for. Every move you make, every time you tell Peña to fuck off, is a gamble. One wrong step, and you’ll be screwed, even for eyes like those. 

“I can handle him,” you say softly, turning to look at the two again, but it’s just the blonde. 

You can feel the shift in the air as you stand there before seeing him. Peña approaches—slow and deliberate like he’s got all the time in the world. He stops short of invading your personal space, his presence almost suffocating.

“You two look cozy,” His voice is low, and despite himself, there's that smirk—cocky, lewd, and dangerously familiar. The red neon lights create shadows across his features. He looks devilish, like any second, and he’ll grow horns to match his attitude. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can feel your pulse quicken. Even when he’s being a jerk, there’s something magnetic about him, like a tension waiting to snap. It must be the alcohol. You had never seen him while you were drinking and avoided seeing him outside of work at all costs. 

"I didn’t realize you moonlighted as a comedian, Peña," you mutter, trying to inject a bit of bite into your words, hoping it'll deter him. But he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head and slowly swigs his beer. You watch the movement in his throat as it dips, the faint trace of lipstick marking his jaw and neck.

“Ay, cariño, you always know how to keep things interesting,” he says, his tone smooth, not missing a beat.

"Who are you trying to impress here, Peña? It's exhausting." you feel your cheeks flush with anger but attempt to suppress it. But it’s hard, so hard, when all he does is use people. And the alcohol makes it so easy to rip him a new one, bite his head off, or ruin his night. All you knew was he twisted something inside you, and you didn’t know how to uncoil that. 

"Impress? Not trying to impress anyone," Peña says with a slight smirk, looking at Murphy like he’ll have his back, his voice low and relaxed. "I just do what I do. If it bothers you, that's on you." He shifts his weight and juts a hip out. His eyes study you, your body, and your face like he's trying to figure something out. Then he shrugs, "But you sure seem like you’re trying to impress me, though."

Your cheeks flush bright red at his false accusation. No, you did not dress to impress anyone, let alone Javier fucking Pena. No way. 

“I would never try to impress you, never.” you spit, glancing at Murphy. He gives you an amused smirk as he watches you two square up. Like he knows something you don’t. Ugh, not him too. You hoped Pena wasn’t rubbing off on him. 

"Sure thing, cariño," he says, flashing a grin as he drags his tongue across his pink bottom lip—the one that juts out whenever he's upset, lost in thought, or buried in paperwork. Damn.

You stomp away, shaking your head, trying to shake off the frustration. You round the table, offering a quick goodbye to the women before grabbing your purse. As you head for the door, you pass the blonde woman, the compact in her hand as she reapplies her lipstick. You feel a pang of sympathy for her, but you're not about to come off as a bitch. So, instead, you do the only thing you know how to do—take another shot at Peña.

"Hey, you’re new here, right?" you ask, your tone soft and genuine. It's not the kind of conversation you typically start with, but something about her makes you feel bad. She snaps her compact closed with a quick flick, and her smile catches you off guard momentarily. It’s an innocent, almost naïve expression, and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it makes your chest tighten. She looks over at Peña briefly before meeting your eyes again, her expression shifting, maybe uncertain but hopeful. 

"Yeah—" she begins, but you don’t let her finish.

"Whatever you do, don’t sleep with Agent Peña," you say, your voice low but pointed, trying and failing to suppress the hint of amusement tugging at your lips. "He’s got a bad case of crabs. Like antibiotic resistant, gave it to the whole second floor."

You almost smile at how her face shifts between disgust and disbelief, but you keep your composure as Peña steps into the conversation. He glances between the two of you, a smirk on his lips.

"Good evening, ladies," he says, his voice smooth and effortless.

"Buenas noches," you reply smugly. You turn and walk away, not sparing them another glance, leaving the air between them thick with confusion. Behind you, you can hear her reaction—sharp, disgusted, and Peña, as usual, too slow to understand what just happened.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Murphy laughs, shaking his head as you both step out of the bar.

The next day, the Mercado is lively in the early morning, bustling with vendors shouting over one another to draw in customers. The air smells of ripe fruit and freshly baked bread, the sharp tang of herbs mixing with the earthy scent of soil. Stalls line the narrow paths, overflowing with vibrant produce. The morning sun casts long shadows on the ground, but the heat is already rising, making the place hum.

You’re wearing shorts, a tank top, and a flowy white blouse as the breeze flows past you. You wander slowly, letting the vibrant colors and sounds wash over you. You don’t quite know what you’re looking for, but moving through the crowd feels like something small you can control in a still unknown place. 

Bending down to get a better look at the fruit before you, the market’s chaos continues—loud, alive, but somehow distant.

Then, a sudden shift. As if the air seems to tighten, the market buzz fading as you hear a purposeful, smooth clearing of a throat behind you. And it's like the space around you narrows because that subtle sound is something you could recognize in a crowded room. Or a busy market. Without even turning around, you know it’s him.

“Well, well, I thought you’d be nursing a hangover,” Peña says, his voice a little too easy, like he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting around every corner, like he’d orchestrated it. 

"Are you following me?" The words slip out, half accusation, half curiosity. You don't need to look over your shoulder to know he’s standing there, one hip out.  His presence becomes more like a shadow at your back—unavoidable, unsettling.

Peña’s chuckle rumbles behind you, low and unbothered, as if the question amuses him more than it irritates. The tension in the air seems to pull tighter, and for a moment, you wonder if you could even breathe properly. His proximity, that unmistakable energy he carries, presses into your space, making you feel more aware of him than the people around you.

The moment hangs there for a beat before Peña speaks again, his words now threaded with a sense of casual authority. “Maybe. Or maybe I just know where you like to shop.” There’s no mistaking the teasing in his voice now, the hint of a smile lurking behind his words.

You take a step forward, the weight of his gaze on you like a constant pull. But you refuse to let it show—refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s successfully annoyed you. Instead, you keep walking steadily to create distance, though the space seems to shrink with every step.

He doesn’t follow immediately. For a moment, the market feels normal again. The chatter of vendors, the shuffling of shoes. Everything around you is mundane and ordinary. But you know, without turning, that he’s still there. That he’s watching, sunglasses low on his arched nose, casting a cool shadow over the sharp lines of his face. His presence isn’t loud but it sure is undeniable, and you can feel the hair on your neck rise. 

The deli vendor shifts his gaze between you and Peña, clearly caught in the tension. Peña leans forward just slightly, his voice a soft, almost bored command. “Get the filet; it’s more tender, and for godsakes, get the cut from the back, por favor.”

You barely register the vendor’s nod as you drag your attention away from Peña’s words. You fix your gaze on the glass display of meats, a silent war playing out in your head. You adjust the weight of the produce bag slung over your shoulder. It’s heavier than you remember, or maybe your anger is getting the best of you.

“Why are you still here?” You snap the question more out of habit than genuine curiosity, keeping your eyes trained on the man wrapping the meat in front of you, unwilling to look at him for fear of seeing the grin you know is there.

His shadow shifts and there is a faint laugh in his voice as he responds. You feel the warmth of his body just beside yours. Like one wrong move, and you’d brush against his side. 

“Got a tip about this place, I didn’t follow you here, princesa.” His tone is low, too smooth, like something that shouldn’t feel dangerous but does anyway.

You don't know what it is about him, why his proximity twists your insides into knots. Maybe it’s how he speaks, knowingly, like he’s been around long enough to make every word feel like an unspoken challenge. Perhaps it’s the way he stands, always just a bit too close, constantly too aware of where you are. Or what he wears, jeans and a white shirt, so casual. It makes you…It makes you angry. 

You finally turn to face him, and there it is. The slight arch of his brow, the small smirk that tugs at his lips. His mustache, perfect in its precision, only adds to the irritation that surges up your spine. How can someone look so deliberately smug and idiotic at the same time?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snap, the tips of your ears burning.

Peña’s gaze flicks to you, sharp momentarily, before his usual cool indifference settles back in. He shifts his weight against the counter, one elbow resting lazily on the edge, the picture of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world. “Probably,” he says, his mouth curling into a faint smirk. “But this is more fun.”

You both stand there, an invisible line drawn in the air between you, a standoff. Peña won’t leave, and part of you knows that now. 

The vendor clears his throat, and you pay him, thanking him quickly. You can feel Peña’s eyes on you as you pivot and begin to walk away.

You trudge through the hectic Mercado, your grocery bag digging into your arm as you weave between people. The crowd swirls around you, but you feel him, steady and unwavering, hot on your heels. The crowd parts for Peña, fluid and instinctual, like the Red Sea before Moses. It’s not the kind of attention anyone asks for, but it’s the kind he commands without effort.

Finally, you spill out of the Mercado and onto the street, the bustling noise fading into the background. Your arm aches under the bag's weight, but you keep walking, your sneakers tapping against the cracked pavement. You can still hear the soft patter of his boots behind you, the sound just a touch too close.

“Peña, I don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter, furrowing your brows. You stop, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking, though something in his posture changes. Different from any other time, a hushed gravity suspends in the air. He glances over his shoulder, eyes scanning the space behind him. One hand rests on his hip, and you catch the flash of metal beneath his shirt—the weight of a holstered gun.

You glance down the street. It’s eerily silent, with no stray cars and no pedestrians. The street feels barren like it’s holding its breath. The midday sun beats down on the asphalt, but a strange chill pricks the back of your neck. The air feels thin, too still, like something is off—like the world has paused, waiting.

You don’t know how he noticed, but he did. It’s almost imperceptible, yet instinctively, you realize that this is what he does best— always been one step ahead. You’ve never seen him in action before, not like this. There’s a certain precision in how his gaze scans the surroundings, so calculating, his movements so fluid they seem choreographed. It’s almost… beautiful in its deadly grace. It's terrifying.

His eyes flick to you, locking onto yours with a look that needs no words. You don’t question it. You simply follow him, your voice lost, swallowed by the heavy air between you. The grocery bag you were so annoyed about carrying moments ago feels like a distant memory, the weight forgotten as your heart hammers in your chest.

He moves with purpose, his strides long and steady, leading you away from the busy street into an alley that smells faintly of wet concrete and diesel. It’s quieter here, the sounds of the city muffled by the walls that close in around you. The heat of the midday sun lingers in the narrow space, but there's a chill in the air as you see the shadow of a few men lurking just out of sight.

He stops abruptly in front of a metal gate and taps in a pin with the precision of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. The gate creaks open, and he gestures for you to slip inside. You do so without a second thought, too caught up in the moment's urgency to ask questions. 

The door shuts behind you with a low thud, the echo sharp in the quiet. Javier’s gun is out before you realize it, his movements swift. You’re in a long hallway, and he leads you to another door, which he unlocks with a key. 

He locks the deadbolt behind him, his eyes never leaving the peephole. Only then do you notice where you are.

You linger in the living room, the remnants of adrenaline humming beneath your skin as your eyes sweep over the space. This isn’t what you imagined. You thought he’d live in a place that screamed Javier Peña—something flashy, brash, maybe a little careless, with leather couches, a stocked bar, and ashtrays scattered like afterthoughts. A bachelor pad built for indulgence, not permanence. But this?

This is a home—the kind of place that feels oddly welcoming as if the walls themselves had been warmed by the life lived inside them. Sunlight spills in through half-drawn curtains, casting soft patterns on worn furniture. The couch—slightly lumpy with cushions that have clearly seen better days—faces a modest coffee table scarred with the faintest traces of water rings and cigarette burns. A stack of records leans precariously against a battered turntable in the corner, their spines worn smooth with use.

The air smells faintly of tobacco, wood polish, and something you can’t quite place—maybe the ghost of cologne clinging to his leather jacket. The infamous jacket you’d seen him shrug into as he and Murphy made their way out of the office.

Not that you’d habitually thought about his house or the things he’d keep in it. Or him. Definitely not him.

“Someone’s been following you. Who knows for how long,” he mutters, his tone sharp, clipped, and brimming with restrained anger.

He moves to the window, parting the blinds with two fingers just enough to peer outside. The barrel of his weapon stays low, the gleam of the steel catching a sliver of sunlight.

His eyes sweep the street, and the hardened look on his face is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. 

“Me? I’m nobody. Why the hell would anyone follow me?” you ask, your voice cracking under the pressure of trying to sound unaffected.

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the street beyond the glass, every muscle in his body so taut you can see the ripple beneath his shirt.

“Doesn’t matter who you are,” he mutters, his voice low and cutting through the street noise like a blade. “They find out you’re with the DEA, and you’ve got a target on your back.”

Your pulse quickens and the sound of blood rushing in your ears drowns out the quiet of the room. The space suddenly feels smaller, every shadow sharper, and the calm you’d clung to is now a distant memory.

Your mind races, but all the thoughts are tangled up in a knot—half of you wants to dismiss it, to say he’s just trying to scare you, to brush it off as just another part of the job. But the other half knows this is real. 

“So what, I’m just gonna have men wanting to kidnap me?” you say, upset, your grocery bag thumping on his couch as you sigh. This was a big deal, a huge deal, but right now, in your career, it felt more like an inconvenience. 

“You don’t get it,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly, the weight of his words carrying a tone of finality. His voice is low and firm, like a man who’s seen too much and no longer has time for explanations. 

“They wouldn’t just kidnap you…” He trails off, but you don’t need him to finish the sentence. The image plays out in your mind—a quiet warning etched with the brutality only someone like Peña could understand.

You swallow, and for the first time, reality's sharp, biting edge sinks in. The world outside this room or your office walls wasn’t just something you could read about in reports or watch on the news. It’s here. It’s now. 

Peña moves from the window, holstering his gun but keeping his hand close to his hip. You stare at him, his dark eyes unreadable. His silence makes the room feel smaller like he’s drawing you in despite the distance between you.

You cross your arms, trying to force some semblance of control, though your breath is coming faster now. “I’ve dealt with danger before, Peña. This... This isn’t a fucking movie.”

He looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s trying to read you, see through the layers of bravado you’re wearing. “This isn’t the same thing,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “You’re not in control here.”

The words hit harder than you expect, striking a nerve you didn’t know you had. A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passes over you, but you force it down. You don’t need him to see that.

“And you think you can protect me?” you ask, the question escaping before you can stop it. There’s a sharpness in your tone, a mixture of challenge and... curiosity.

“Protect you?” he repeats, his tone dry but not unkind. “Cariño, I don’t think they’re handing out medals for saving you from yourself.” He smirks faintly, his eyes flicking to how you stand out in the room like it’s absurd. “But if you’re hell-bent on getting snatched, by all means, call a taxi. I could use the night off.”

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the bag of groceries that still rests on the couch. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Peña,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the conviction it had a few minutes ago.

“Good,” he replies, brows furrowing as you attempt to walk past him. “Then don’t make me waste my time playing knight in shining armor. You’re safe here—now let me figure out what we’re gonna do.” He reaches for you, grabbing your upper arm with a strength you know is half the power. 

You pause mid-stride, the weight of his grip burning through the sleeve of your thin shirt. So thin you can basically feel his fingerprints burning into your flesh. It’s not painful, not even close—but how he holds you feels like a tether to something you’re not sure you want to name. You glance down at his large hand before trickling up towards his gaze, the dark pools of his eyes crackling with frustration.

“I don’t need you to rescue me,” you snap, trying to inject more steel into your words than you actually feel. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupts, his voice low and sharp enough to cut. “You’re not a damsel. You think you can handle this yourself,” he recites like it’s a joke like you’re a joke. 

The heat in your chest flares, half from his words and half from how he’s still holding on, as though letting go isn’t an option. Like you’re a kid, naive. “Let go of me, Peña,” you say, warning in your eyes, quieter this time. But this feels different than other times, more at stake, your close proximity, the walls around you. You feel inebriated as if your thoughts won’t flow in a cohesive line no matter how hard you try. 

He was drawing you in, the shift in his gaze disarming. Those brown eyes—soft, searching, almost wounded—held a weight that made breathing hard. They begged for something you weren’t sure you could give. Or maybe he just wanted you to believe they did.

And damn it, it was working.

You could feel yourself slipping, the sharp edges of your anger dulling against the pull of his presence. Every rational thought screamed at you to hold your ground, to remember who he was and what he’d done. This was his play, wasn’t it? The practiced vulnerability, the carefully crafted sincerity meant to turn you into putty in his hands.

And yet, the worst part was how you wanted to let it happen. To let those stupid, heartbreakingly tender eyes convince you that he wasn’t all bad. That you weren’t just another stop along the way to wherever he’d inevitably disappear to next.

It made you want to scream. Or maybe slap him. Or yourself—whoever deserved it more in this moment.

His hand eases its grip on your arm, but his fingers linger, curved just enough to stay connected. Not holding, not quite, just there—as if to remind himself you’re real. “Quédate aquí,” he says, his voice low, a shade too soft. Almost pleading. Almost breaking. That sound—it crawls under your skin and wraps itself around your ribs. You hate how it settles, molten and insistent, dragging heat low in your belly.

“Por favor.” His tone shifts, like a secret he can’t entirely swallow. “Do me this favor, just once.”

“Fine. Just once…” Your eyes betray you, flickering to his mouth. It’s unfair how there’s no smirk to hide behind this time. No shield from that damn cupid’s bow, sharp and pouty. Your gaze trails upward—his nose, the slope of it, the way it catches the light—until you meet his eyes. He’s watching you, his focus as unyielding as a snare, as though cataloging every place you’ve been looking, every thought you’re trying not to have.

“Give me that,” His fingers find the strap of your bag, curling around it effortlessly as if it belongs to him. He slowly lifts it off your shoulder, and you don’t stop him. You don’t move. You just let him, even when it should annoy you, even when his hand brushing yours feels like a sizzling brand.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” He doesn’t say a word as he sets your bag down on the couch. His movements are all too intentional, too measured. You barely register the sound of the fabric hitting the cushion before he turns back to you.

Your breath catches somewhere in your throat. He's too close again, close enough that the room feels like it's folding in on itself, bending around the space between you as if it’s trying to force you together.

“So I’ve been told,” He replies, not even a hint of surprise in his eyes.

You stand there, frozen, almost daring the air to crack, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to step back and put more distance between you. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Distance doesn't change how it feels. The weight of him, the pull of him—it's suffocating, magnetic. You're trembling, though you can’t decide if it's from the desire to step closer or the fear of what giving in might mean.

Your neck burns with heat, crawling up, spreading like wildfire, and you hate that it's happening. Hate that he’s the reason your pulse is racing, your skin buzzing with sensitivity. You can’t give in. You’ve seen it. The way women fall over themselves for him, like moths to a flame. No, he wasn’t going to make you another notch in his belt. 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding louder than any words you might say. You want to speak, to break the silence before it consumes you, but all that comes out is a shaky breath—louder than the thoughts tearing at your insides.

No words make it past the lump in your throat. You want to tell him to step away, to fuck off, to stop looking at you like that. But you know that would mean walking away from this. From him. And the thought alone makes you want to crumble into yourself.

You were an idiot once again, shaking, wanting him—wanting everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t. You swore you were stronger than this and that you didn’t want to be the woman waiting for him to finally choose you.

But the heat pulses like it’s alive, and you can’t stop the furrow in your brows, physically pained by the scorch. You don’t even know if he realizes how badly you’re fighting to hold yourself together. His eyes are black, unreadable. But they’re too soft. Too focused on you.

The pressure in the room inflates until every breath you take feels labored.

So close, the warmth of Peña’s body radiates off him, yet it’s his gaze that pins you in place. His eyes drop to your face, and the space between you seems to shrink even more until you can feel his breath grazing your skin, every inhale a whisper against you.

Then, without a word, without any sign of warning, his hand reaches up. You hold your breath, bracing for something, anything, but the touch is different—gentle, almost tentative. His fingers brush the stray strands of hair away from your face, sweeping them behind your ear. It’s a delicate movement, but its weight hangs in the air like he’s touching something fragile, something delicate. His hand stays there for a moment, just lingering at the side of your face, the softness of his touch almost mocking the storm of heat inside you. You want to flinch, to pull away, but you stop short. Not when he’s so close, not when the very air is thick with this... this electricity that’s become impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t let go, though. His fingers curve around the back of your neck, pulling you slightly closer, his thumb brushing over your jaw in a way that’s almost too intimate, too tender. His gaze flicks between your eyes, searching for something, and you can’t look away. You can’t look anywhere else.

“Stop me,” His lips barely skim yours at first—just a whisper of contact that sends shockwaves through your body. It’s almost too much to bear, but you don’t pull away. 

A soft, breathy moan slips out of you before your lips even touch fully, a sound that feels so raw, so unguarded. His hand tightens on your jaw, pulling you into him, and in the next instant, his mouth is on yours, desperate, fervent, as if he can’t stand the space between you for even a second longer.

It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a kiss born from restraint, from months of wanting something he didn’t think he could have. His lips part yours with an almost brutal force, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. His tongue slides against yours, hot, wet, seeking—hungry. There’s no finesse to it, no lingering moment of sweetness. It’s primal like he’s finally allowing himself to take what’s been torturing him for too long.

The kiss escalates, and for a heartbeat, everything else falls away. It’s just him and you and this electricity, the raw need surging between you. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours as if he can’t get close enough, as if the torture has taken over every rational thought he had.

Your breath is stolen, and so are your thoughts. So consumed by the fire in your veins, the taste of his tongue, the firmness of his shoulders beneath your hands. He pulls away so quick it feels like he’s taken the breath from you.

"If you don’t stop me," he murmurs, his voice cracking under the weight of his own need. His thumb strokes the edge of your jaw, the touch so light it sends a shiver down your spine. "Cariño, please—" He swallows hard, his lips hovering just close enough to tempt you. "—tell me to stop. Or I won’t."

The words are pained as if saying them costs him everything. His breath is warm against your mouth, his forehead nearly pressing to yours, and the vulnerability in his voice cuts through the haze, grounding you even as your body betrays you with how badly you want to close the distance again.

“Then don’t,” you reply, swallowing the regret you know is rising in your thoughts. What would be the use of regretting now when the line has already been crossed? 

A low, guttural growl rumbles from Javier’s throat as he kisses you again, the kind of kiss that swallows your breath and sets fire to every fiber of your being.  His chest heaves against yours, his frustration bleeding into every press of his lips, every flick of his tongue. It’s as if he’s punishing you for every bratty retort, every dismissive glance, and for the endless nights you’d unwittingly occupied his mind.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with heat and accusation. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. “You know that, don’t you? Torturing me every damn day.”

His hands drop from your neck, sliding down to your hips with a bruising grip, his fingers digging into your flesh as though trying to leave his mark. The pain mingles with pleasure, leaving you wanting more.

You rise on your toes, desperate to meet him, to feel him. The contrast between his towering frame and your smaller form only intensifies the ache pooling low in your belly. He doesn’t make you wait—he never would—his strong hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you up with effortless ease.

Your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms circle his neck, fingers threading through the hair at the nape.

He doesn’t bother with asking permission. His movements are rough, almost frantic, as he blindly carries you through the dimly lit apartment. When he reaches his room, he kicks the door shut with a force that rattles the frame. The darkness swallows you both, but you don’t care. Your only focus is the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his arousal straining against you, and the way he growls when you grind down on him.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, as if you’ve unraveled him in ways he’s not used to. His words are a contradiction—gruff and demanding but with an edge of vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

Your back hits the mattress, and he leans over you, his body caging you in. His hands roam your sides, calloused and sure, and you arch into him, a moan spilling from your lips as you chase his touch. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes burning with something that feels almost possessive.

“How ‘bout you show me then?” you fire, the familiar counter making you feel like you’ve found some semblance of control.

Javier's eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as if your challenge caught him off guard. But the corner of his mouth twitches, betraying the ghost of a cocky smile. “As long as you’re sure,” he replies, a dangerous mix of plea and provocation. It’s like he’s daring you to falter, daring you to back out—while silently begging you not to.

You scoff, leaning up, your lips brushing against his but never quite touching. The tease of it burns more than any kiss could. “Don’t get soft with me,” you whisper, your voice low. “I don’t like soft. I like to get fucked. Think you can give me that, Javier?”

His name, spoken like that—soft, intimate, a prayer all at once—makes something deep in him snap. He isn’t used to this, to you. To someone who doesn’t shy away, who doesn’t melt the moment he touches them, who doesn’t give him that instant satisfaction of control.

You’re not yielding, not letting him fall into his usual rhythm. No, you’re setting the pace, and he’s following—fumbling, even—like some love-drunk fool. 

Javier leans down into your neck, the scent of your skin filling his lungs, intoxicating him. “Careful, cariño,” he warns, though the words lack their usual sharpness. They make him shake, his cock strain in his jeans. “You might just get exactly what you’re asking for.” 

You push at his shoulders, your hands urging him back. He doesn't hesitate, scooting off the bed with swift, practiced movements. Like he’d done this a million times, and the thought of that angered you. It made something flare in your eyes as you watched him, his fingers working the buttons and zippers. 

When he’s finally bare, the hard, defined lines of his body seem almost too much to take in all at once. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his cock already thick and leaking. He looks at you, eyes shadowed and hungry, as he kneels on the bed.

His fingers curl around the waistband of your shorts, dragging them off your hips along with your panties, the fabric scraping over your skin as he exposes you to him. Before you can process the shift, his fingers catch the hem of your tank top, yanking it down with such force that the seam strains. 

The path of his gaze burns into your skin, trailing across the valley of your breasts and down to where you close your thighs. He places his hands on your knees and spreads you wide open.

“Hiding such a pretty pussy from me, look at you.” Javier’s cock twitches at the sight of you on your back, head against his pillows. You were in his bed, and the glisten of your pussy as she dripped onto his sheets was because of him. And that made his chest rise and his cock weep.

You weren’t hiding anything—but the way he said it made something inside you flare, a fierce urge to prove him wrong surging through you. “Javier,” you say, dragging your hand down your stomach and to your lips, spreading yourself open for him with your fingers. You could feel the mess, the slickness that coated your fingers just from finally giving in. It felt so freeing. 

You sit up, breathless, just as Javier leans down. You raise your fingers to his mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate—his lips parting just enough for your fingers to slip past them.

His tongue flicks out, velvet-soft, running along the length of your fingers in a slow, hot caress. He sucks them in, drawing them deeper, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in his gaze. Each pull of his mouth sends a jolt of heat spiraling through you.

“Fucking heaven,” he breathes out like he’s just had a taste of something long denied.

“Ass up,” he demands, his words a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Let me see you like that, baby.”

You give it to him—your body obeying before your mind can catch up. You twist, moving slowly and carefully, your muscles aching as you position yourself. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pushing your head into the sheets, muffling your breath.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, your voice strained and muffled against the sheets.

Javier doesn’t answer. 

Instead, you feel him shift behind you, a growl rumbling in his chest before you feel the unmistakable warmth of his mouth on your pussy. His tongue flicks against you, tasting you like he’s been starving for this moment. You gasp, a sharp, involuntary sound slipping past your lips as he delves deeper, his tongue greedy and frantic as it drags along your slit, teasing and claiming in one motion.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling them wider, giving him better access as he feasts on you, wholly absorbed in the act. Your knees sink into the mattress, your hands clutching the sheets as you feel his tongue slipping up to your other hole, circling it with the tip of his tongue. You cry out, the feeling so foreign yet so delicious.

You feel him lick into your folds, his tongue swirling your clit, circling, and dipping lower as if to explore every inch of you. His breath is hot, his lips pressing against you as he eats you from behind like a man possessed, relentless, driven by need. He doesn’t care about anything but the taste of you, the feeling of you writhing beneath his touch.

Your hips buck involuntarily, pressing back into him, wanting more, needing more. It feels like he’s owning you, taking what he wants without hesitation, and the power of it makes your head spin.

He’s pulling an orgasm from you like he’s been trained to—like he knows every inch of your body, every reaction, every breath you take. Like he’s studied you and your body, found its rhythm, its tempo, and now he's using it against you, claiming you in ways you didn’t think you could be claimed.

“Javier, please,” You gasp, your breath coming in short, jagged bursts as you surrender to the rush of blood, the intense pull of your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling. He doesn’t stop, not even when you shake, when your body gives in ultimately, and you attempt to pull away.

Only when he deems it right does he pull away, wiping where you coat his chin, and he reaches into his bedside table without a word. Spent; you hear him rip open a condom in silence as he rolls it on his cock. You feel his hands on your hips not a moment later, the tip of his cock swipes along your pussy before inching in.

Javier can feel the aftershocks of your first orgasm, the way you clenched around the tip of his cock before he can get another inch in. And it made him gasp, how tightly you clamped on to him; it felt like you were suffocating him. His self-restraint was hanging on by a thread, but you pushed back against him, sinking him further into your soaked pussy until he was buried balls deep. You were hot and soft inside, and Javier tensed as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. 

“Damn, cariño, wish you could see this.” You hear him say over your shoulder, and you twist your neck to watch him. Large hands on the globes of your ass, watching himself disappear into you as you feel him hit something deep inside you each time. 

You feel the subtle flex of his muscles as he shifts, pressing deeper into you. The rhythm intensifies, and the familiar stir of heat coils tight in your stomach. He moves steadily, his hand sliding down to your tit, squeezing and pulling at your nipple. 

Then, with a deliberate pull, his hand wraps around your throat, the pressure possessive. He guides you upward, forcing you to rise on your knees, and the shift brings a new angle, deeper, harder. He grips your jaw to keep you there, his breath fanning against your hair as if he's inhaling the very essence of you, a soft exhale against your neck. 

Each thrust is deeper than the last, a steady rhythm that threatens to shatter the fragile control you still cling to. He’s unrelenting, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, his teeth grazing the tender curve of your neck. He bites into your flesh so hard it stings, so hard you’ll be branded for life. 

You gasp, the burn of his teeth searing into your skin, and he presses harder, pinning you against him. “Say my name,” he growls as he licks against the bite, “who makes you feel this way?”

You can barely catch your breath before his hand is at your head, forcing you down into the sheets again. The pressure of his palm is suffocating, but something is intoxicating about it, the way he has you utterly in his grasp. You can’t hold back the soft, desperate mewl that slips from your lips as you push back against him, needing more, wanting to feel the tension build once again.

“Javier… you…fuck me so good. So perfect,” you whisper, the words slipping out almost without control, as if your body is speaking for you. Javier watches as you snake your hand between your thighs, a whimper leaving your throat as you rub at your swollen and slick clit. 

“Makin’ me lose my mind, cariño,” Javier growls, his voice rough with the effort to keep his composure. The pulse of your pussy around him drives him crazy, and he presses forward, each movement bringing him closer to the edge. “Give me another, please. I know you can.”

The way he says it, how he begs for it, like a man on his knees for you. 

You hold onto the memory—this moment when Javier Peña begs for you, so desperate, so…pathetic.

“That’s it,” Javier's grip tightens on you as he moves deeper, a low groan escaping his chest. You feel every inch of his thick cock, the way his rhythm matches the frantic pace of your fingers, your body bracing for the inevitable release.

“Got you cariño, make me feel so good…your perfect pussy,” A litany of words spill from his mouth, his string of thoughts caught in the air. A sob catches in your throat, the pressure mounting before it finally breaks, coursing through you like a storm. Your nails dig into your palms as your body trembles for the second time, the world around you blurring with tears. The sensation of him inside you, his rhythm pushing you to the edge and beyond.

Javier’s breath is harsh and heavy as he spills into the condom. You feel the pulse of him deep inside you, and the sensation lingers long after he’s finished.

"Shit," he mutters, his voice strained as he swallows thickly. There is a moment of silence, of pure peace, before you startle when you feel the soft brush of his lips on your shoulder—gentle, almost too tender. It’s a sharp contrast to the bite he left there, his teeth still tenderly marking your skin. His kiss lingers for a heartbeat, a soft, almost intimate gesture before he pulls away completely. After a moment, he withdraws his softening cock, and the pressure inside you eases.

He pulls himself away from the bed, and the sudden movement makes your head spin. You push yourself up, too, feeling the rush of blood hit your temples, the pressure building in your skull. Your eyes follow him as he tosses the used condom into the trash, his hands trembling. With a sigh, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table, lights one with a shaky flick of his thumb, and exhales slowly. The smoke curls in the dim light, hanging in the air like a silent afterthought.

“I can give you a ride home, but I don’t think your groceries are going to make it,” he says, his voice light with that same casual humor. He takes a drag from his cigarette, then holds it out toward you, offering it like it’s some sort of peace offering.

You don’t move toward it, and the sight of him—already dressed, already dismissing the moment with that effortless charm—sends a jolt of bitterness through you. This is how he does it, isn’t it? Fucks them, smokes, gets dressed, then sends them on their way. You dress quickly, and finish pulling on your shoes, the awkwardness of the moment hitting you all at once. Without a word, you turn and head for the door.

“Hey!” His voice stops you in your tracks. “You can’t just leave. Who knows if it’s safe? Don’t be reckless. Cariño, ven acá.”

You roll your eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. “Call it post-nut clarity, Javier.” You reply with the same sarcasm in your tone. 

You yank the door open, ready to leave, but then stop dead in your tracks. Murphy stands in the doorway, his hand suspended in the air as if he’d been about to knock. His blue eyes widen in surprise when they meet yours. His lips part slightly, and he lifts an eyebrow as his gaze flicks past you, settling on Javier—shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

Heat floods your already flushed cheeks, making your skin feel tight, and in that instant, everything becomes too vivid. Too exposed. You stand there, caught in a moment of sheer embarrassment. The awkwardness is suffocating, yet strangely, you don’t know whether you want to run or stay and unravel the feeling that has suddenly settled in your chest. 

You do the only thing that feels right in the moment—you run. You brush past Murphy, the heat of his presence lingering just behind you as he follows. It’s perfect, really. He’ll drive you home, and you’ll avoid the awkward confrontation with Javier. You won’t have to face him telling you, in the most painfully polite way, that he isn’t interested, that he never was. You don’t need that kind of false pity. Not from him. Not when he got the whole thing twisted. 

You wanted this—just this. A fuck, nothing more. And you didn’t want him to think you wanted more. 

But then, you make the mistake of glancing back. And when you do, you catch it—Javier’s gaze, sad brown eyes darkened with something you can’t quite place. His brows furrow slightly, and for the briefest moment, his expression cracks open in a way you didn’t expect. Hurt?

No. You’re reading it wrong. It’s not hurt. It’s...relief.

Javier Peña only ever cared about one person—himself. You’d known that from the moment you first crossed paths.

The truth hit hard, but it was the only thing that made sense: leaving first was a favor. And for once, you didn’t feel bad about walking away.

[toacaldoric]

Wish I could do this with ads, but they removed the ability to block most advertisers, and even with the ones you CAN block, they still shove their stuff in your face anyways, for at least several days afterwards.

there's a delicate balance between "seeing something on my dash so often i end up caring about it unexpectedly" and "seeing something on my dash so often that it gets added to the blocked list with extreme prejudice"

[woniescheeks]

Flustered

Synopsis: In which Enhypen leaves you flustered with their sweet gestures, playful teasing, and protective sides, making you feel loved and embarrassed all at once.

W/C: 2.3k Warnings: Light teasing, fluff, mild embarrassment, protective behaviours 

Pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader  Genre: Fluff, Romance  AU: Established Relationship 

LEE HEESEUNG

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a blanket draped over your legs. Heeseung walks into the room, holding his guitar like it’s no big deal. He plops down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight, and starts strumming lazily. 

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Practicing again?” 

“Something like that,” he says with a smirk before breaking into a sweet melody. The song sounds oddly familiar, and then you realize—he’s improvising lyrics about you. They’re cheesy, talking about how your laugh is his favourite sound and how even your messy hair is perfect to him. 

“You’re not serious,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you glance at him. 

“About what?” Heeseung asks innocently, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“About playing me a song right now,” you reply, crossing your arms. “You know I’m not falling for that cheesy stuff.” 

Heeseung only grins and leans in closer. “I’m not trying to be cheesy,” he says, strumming the guitar a little louder. “But I think you’re already falling for it.” 

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile. “Please don’t make this any worse, Heeseung.” 

But before you know it, he starts singing again. The lyrics this time were about how you light up his world, how he’s so lucky to be with you, and how even your quirks are perfect to him.  

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Heeseung, stop!” 

“Why? Am I making you blush?” he teases, leaning closer, still playing. His voice softens, and he gives you this look—part playful, part sincere—that makes your heart skip. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, you know?” 

“Not cute! I’m dying of second-hand embarrassment,” you reply, but you can’t help but smile. Heeseung’s face lights up as he continues to sing, and for a moment, nothing else matters but his voice and the way he makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. 

PARK JONSEONG

You’re in the kitchen, huffing in frustration while trying to open a jar of pasta sauce. “Ugh, seriously?” you mutter to yourself, tugging at it harder. Just as you’re about to give up, you hear Jay’s voice behind you. 

“Need some help, babe?” he asks, his voice dripping with that familiar confidence. You turn to see him standing there, hands casually in his pockets.

“No, I got it,” you say quickly, not wanting to admit you’re struggling. You give the lid another twist. 

Jay just raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, it looks like you really got it,” he teases. “Let me just do it.” he says, already reaching for the jar. Before you can even answer, he takes it from your hands and pops the lid off like it’s nothing with a smirk on his face. “You can’t do everything yourself, you know.” 

You cross your arms, huffing in mock annoyance. “I could’ve gotten it! It’s just a jar!” 

“Sure you could,” he says, giving you a look that says he’s not buying it for a second. “But you didn’t. And now I’m the hero of the day.” 

“Show-off,” you mutter, but before you can grab the jar back, he steps closer. His chest brushes lightly against your shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “How would you survive without me, huh?” 

His voice is low, smooth, and so close that you freeze. The warmth of his breath on your skin sends a jolt straight to your stomach. You try to come up with a comeback, but all that comes out is a flustered laugh. 

Jay pulls back with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “You’re welcome,” he says casually, setting the jar down like nothing happened, leaving you to process your racing heart. 

“Ugh, whatever,” you mutter, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “But I definitely don’t need a ‘hero.’” 

“Of course you do,” he replies, winking. “Every superhero has their sidekick.” 

SIM JAEYUN

 You’re standing in front of the mirror, frowning as you debate between two outfits. Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with his head propped up on his hand. 

“Which one do you like better?” you ask, holding up both options. 

He doesn’t even look at the clothes. Instead, he says, “You.” 

You pause, blinking at him. “What?” 

He grins, standing up and walking over to you. “I mean, you could wear either of those—or nothing at all—and you’d still look amazing.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to hide how flustered you are. “That’s not helpful.” 

Jake laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m serious. You could wear a trash bag, and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person in the room.” 

Your cheeks burn as you swat at him. “Stop it, Jake!” You laugh nervously, but Jake isn’t done.

“Actually, scratch that,” he says, his voice softer now. “You’d still outshine the sun even if you wore a potato sack.” 

Rolling your eyes, you try to step away, but Jake gently pulls you back, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. He rests his forehead lightly against the side of your head, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “Why do you always get so shy when I tell you how amazing you are?” 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Because you’re so extra sometimes,” you mumble, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. 

Jake chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Can’t help it,” he says with a grin you can feel more than see. “I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You make it way too easy for me to hype you up.” 

You glance at him, finally letting out a real laugh as the warmth of his words starts to sink in. “You’re ridiculous,” you tease, but your voice is soft, affectionate. 

“And you love it,” he quips, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. His expression shifts, becoming more tender as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “For real, though,” he adds, his voice steady and sincere, “you’re beautiful” 

Your face warms, but this time, you don’t try to hide it. Instead, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest with a content sigh. 

He just laughs again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect without even trying.” 

PARK SUNGHOON

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and you’re lounging around in an oversized hoodie, feeling cozy and not at all concerned about how you look. You’re still in your pajamas, hair a mess, and in your fuzzy socks on the couch when Sunghoon enters the room, looking as put-together as ever. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees you. “Wow. Are you trying to set a new record for the ‘cozy chic’ look?” 

You glance over at him and laugh, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms, “I mean, it’s kind of unfair. Even when you’re like this”—he gestures at your hoodie—“you’re still so cute it’s ridiculous.” 

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Excuse me?” 

He walks closer to you, his eyes playful. “I mean, you could wear literally anything, and I’d still think you’re cute, but you’re not even trying today.” 

“You’re ridiculous!” you exclaim, grabbing a sofa pillow and throwing it at him. 

But Sunghoon catches it effortlessly, his smirk only growing. “What? I’m just stating the obvious. You know you’re perfect, even when you don’t try.” 

He rests his arms on the armrest of the sofa and leans in as you give him a funny look. “What? Can’t handle a little truth?” 

You sigh dramatically. “You’re such a handful, you know that?” 

“I know,” Sunghoon says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “But you still love me, don’t you?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe.” 

KIM SUNOO

You’re walking through the park with Sunoo, holding hands and chatting about everything and nothing. The day is perfect—blue skies, a light breeze, and his hand warm in yours. 

Suddenly, he stops walking. “Hold on,” he says, looking down. 

You follow his gaze and realize your shoelace is untied. Before you can bend down to fix it, Sunoo crouches in front of you, taking your foot gently in his hands. 

“Sunoo, I can do it,” you protest, feeling your face heat up as people glance your way. 

“Shh, I’ve got it,” he says, tying the laces with a practiced ease and looks up at you with a cheeky smile. “You don’t want to trip, do you?”  

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine! I can tie my own shoes.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the one who always makes sure you don’t fall,” Sunoo teases, finishing the knot with a neat little bow and standing up. “Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.” 

You’re about to thank him when he stands up and brushes off his pants. “You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you,” he teases, linking his arm with yours again. 

You try to act annoyed, but the affection in his voice makes it impossible not to feel warm inside. You shake your head, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You’re too much sometimes.” 

“And you love it,” he shoots back with a grin. 

YANG JUNGWON

It’s another quiet night, and you’re both on the couch, wrapped in your favourite blanket. The warm light from the lamps in the room casts a soft glow, and the sound of the movie playing in the background is just a distant hum compared to the peaceful silence between you two. You’ve been talking here and there, laughing about silly things, but now you’re both just enjoying each other’s presence. 

You notice your hands are getting colder, and you instinctively start rubbing them together to warm them up. At first, you don’t think much of it. But then, you feel Jungwon’s gaze on you. 

Without a word, he shifts closer to you, his arm around you tightening slightly, as if to pull you into him even more. You’re about to make some sarcastic comment, but before you can, Jungwon takes your hand gently, his fingers warming up your cold ones. 

“You’re freezing,” he says quietly, his voice laced with concern, as if he can’t stand seeing you uncomfortable. 

You chuckle softly, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cold. It’ll pass.” 

Jungwon’s brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s staring at your fingers, noticing how icy they are, and his dimple pops out as his lips curl into a small frown. “You really are freezing,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand slowly, trying to transfer his warmth to you. 

You feel your heart flutter at the tenderness of his touch. It’s so simple, yet it feels so intimate. You look up at him, not expecting the softness in his eyes. 

“Jungwon, you really don’t have to do that,” you say, your voice almost a whisper, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you thought you would. 

But he just shakes his head, his expression softening as he looks at you. “I want to.” His voice is low, genuine, and you can tell he’s not saying it just to reassure you. He means it. 

Before you can argue, Jungwon scoots even closer, taking both your hands in his. He brings them to his lips, gently kissing the tops of your fingers, sending a wave of warmth through your body that has nothing to do with the temperature. 

“You’re not used to people taking care of you, huh?” he says with a small smile, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice, almost as if he’s trying to understand you better. 

You look down, feeling a little embarrassed but also touched by how attentive he’s being. “I guess not. But it’s not like I need it all the time,” you murmur, trying to play it cool. 

Jungwon just smiles, this time with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s not about needing it. I just want you to feel comfortable. And I’m always going to make sure you’re okay, even if you don’t ask.” 

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can’t find words. His kindness always catches you off guard, especially when it’s so genuine and effortless. He’s not doing this for any reason other than that he cares. 

You shift, leaning into him a little more, suddenly feeling the weight of his affection, making everything seem so much more real. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that?” 

Jungwon chuckles, his hands still holding yours. “Maybe. But I like doing it. You’re worth it.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI

You’re walking through a crowded mall, shopping with Ni-ki. The place is packed, and as you’re navigating through the crowd, someone accidentally bumps into you. You stumble slightly, but before you can even react, Ni-ki is already there, stepping in front of you like a shield. 

“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his eyes scanning you for any sign of discomfort. 

You quickly nod, trying to downplay it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

But Ni-ki’s eyes narrow, clearly not convinced. “Stay close to me,” he says firmly, his hand gently slipping around your waist to pull you toward him as he expertly manoeuvres through the crowd, guiding you with ease. 

You look up at him, a little startled by how serious he seems. “Ni-ki, you don’t need to protect me from everything,” you say, trying to brush it off. 

But he just shrugs, still holding you close. “I’m your boyfriend, it’s my duty, I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.” His tone is calm, but the protective edge in his voice is obvious, and there’s no way you can argue with that. 

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying how sweet he’s being. “You’re such a mom sometimes,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. 

Ni-ki smirks, his protective hold never loosening. “Well, I’m a good one, aren’t I?” 

“You’re impossible,” you say, though your heart skips a beat at how endearing he’s being. 

“I know,” he says with a wink, squeezing you closer. “But you’ll thank me later when nothing happens to you.” 

You can’t help but smile. “Fine, fine. But only because you’re cute.” 

Ni-ki’s grin widens as he leads you through the crowd, making sure to keep you close, and for the rest of the day, it’s clear he’s not about to let anything happen to you. 

“Stay close, okay?” he says softly, a little more quietly this time, and it’s in that moment you realize just how much he cares. 

You smile, leaning into him a little more as you walk side by side. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay close.” 

[pacofprunes]

OPERATION, SMILE: GUYS LIKE FLOWERS TOO!

daeho x reader, daeho has been having a hard time since the games. you force him to go out and breathe a little and have a “little” gift for him.

ever since daeho had come back from those games he told you about, he doesn’t want to leave his house. he was so happy to be back near you again and to have you with him, but the trauma made him push everyone out and pack himself up in his room. you’d been dropping him off food and he always made sure to thank you but you couldn’t let him destroy himself like this. not any longer. you missed seeing his bright smile and receiving his tight hugs, you were going to get daeho back.

daeho had been ignoring texts, refusing to pick up his phone. but when you called and he saw your name on the phone, he couldn’t ignore it. you knew that, so you send a call his way. it was on the very last ring that he finally picked up the phone. you speak first.

“baby?”

he does a simple hum in response. you huff and decide to just force him to go out.

“we’re going out tonight, okay? the coffee shop right across from my place, alright? love you!”

he goes to speak but you quickly cut him off by hanging up the phone. he would never stand you up, you knew that. he debated on just texting you that he couldn’t go, but he decided he’d push through for you. you sounded so happy on the phone, he couldn’t shut you down.

you put your phone on the table side and smile proudly. you knew he could easily text you no, but you chose to ignore that. you go into your closet, already knowing what you were gonna choose and put on a simple white spring dress. sure it would be night, but it would still be somewhat warm, you’d push through for daeho. you don’t do much with your hair, styling it simple before you stuff your phone in your purse, grab some money, put on your shoes, and run out your house with excitement to the next part of your operation.

you entered the flower shops doors, the bell ringing as you step in. a women greets you.

“hi, how are you?”

“good! i’m looking for a huge bouquet of flowers. like, seriously. the absolute biggest that you have.”

she smiles at you, asking you a few questions about why you need such a big bouquet, and you gladly answer. the bouquet was bigger than your head, and honestly kind of hard to carry and was very expensive. but it was worth it. you wanted to hide the flowers from daeho so you decide to arrive kind of early to the coffee shop, finding a seat and placing the flowers under the table. as time goes on waiting for him, you pray he shows up. you didn’t think he’d stand you up, but then again, he was different now. you take a deep breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts, putting your faith in him. you pull out your phone to make sure he didn’t text you cancelling, thankfully he didn’t. you get a glass of water and hold it tightly in your hands with anticipation.

after what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the coffee shops doors open and he walks through. he finally looked a little put together since the whole ordeal and your eyes immediately light up at the sight. you quickly stand up once he notices you and he walks towards your table and you pull him into a tight hug. he stands there, slightly shocked before wrapping his arms around you, slowly reciprocating. he pulls away and looks you in the eyes.

“you look pretty.”

you smile back at him shyly.

“and you look handsome.”

you run a hand through his hair before pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lip and signaling for him to sit at the table, hoping he doesn’t kick the bouquet as he sits. the food and the drinks were already on the table, you knew what he liked, so you had it all ready for him. he took a bite of the food as you two sat in silence. you were gonna speak but he decided to first.

“i appreciate this a lot. i know i haven’t been the best to you lately..”

you reach across the table and grab his hand, rubbing a thumb his fingers.

“you don’t need to apologize. i just want you to at least feel a little better.”

he looks up at you and gives you a light smile.

“i do feel better. it feels nice to go out again, especially like this. it felt like i was going on a first date with you again, i was freaking out a little bit.”

he rubs the back of his neck with his other hand and you laugh.

“well i’m glad you feel better. it’s nice to see you like this too.”

you take your hand off of his and start eating your food, having small conversations with him. you wanted to cry happy tears, it was so nice to have things like this again. finally having conversations with him again, getting to see him care about himself, seeing him care about you.

“i can pay.”

you scoff at him.

“well, i already paid, so try again!”

he frowns at you.

“i have the money, baby, let me pay you back.”

he goes to reach for his pocket but you practically jump over the table and smack his hand before sitting back down.

“i’m not taking your money. if you secretly give it to me somehow, i’m going to lock it away and never ever use it even if i really need it.”

he furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head before laughing. saying you’re ridiculous and then you start laughing as well. you two finally finish everything and he stands up, reaching a hand out to you to help you up. you go to accept it but you pull back, causing him to have a worried look on his face, asking what was wrong.

“you go out first! and when the coffee shop doors open don’t turn around to face me, okay? i have something you can’t see.”

he still looks confused, but he nods before walking outside. you wait until he’s fully out the door and you see him standing by a bench. that’s when you reach under the table and pick up the bouquet and stand up. you struggle to see where you’re going but you yell a thank you to an employee before walking out the door and going right behind daeho, almost dropping the flowers.

“okay, you can turn around now.”

he jumps as he hadn’t realized you were behind him, lightly laughing at himself before he turns around, stunned.

“do you like them?”

you peek your head out from behind the bouquet, consisting of shades of reds and pink flowers with few white roses sprinkled in, wrapped in a white and gray-ish blue paper.

“wow…”

he slowly grabs the bouquet out of your hands before you play with your fingers, nerves getting the best of you as you hope that he likes them. he just stares at them before you realize there’s tears starting to roll down his cheeks, causing you to frown at him, cupping his face in one of your hands, he pulls you into a side hug as to not crush the flowers, mumbling a very broken up thank you, as if he was holding in a sob. he places the bouquet on the bench next to you two and cups your face in his hands now before pulling you into a deep kiss. it lasted a long time too. his tears slipping onto your lips, him kissing you like you were his last breath before pulling away, more tears slipping out.

“thank you so much, i don’t even know what i can say, baby—”

you pull him into a tight hug, rubbing his back.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

he squeezes you tighter before moving his hand up to your head and rubbing his fingers through your hair.

“i swear i’ll be better. i love you so much.”

you pull away and cup his face, looking intensely into his eyes.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be there with you every step of the way, my love.”

he smiles at you and presses a kiss to your forehead before picking up the bouquet and walking with you home, an arm over your shoulder the whole walk in a comfortable silence before he speaks.

“do you— do you wanna stay over tonight?”

you stop in your tracks, causing him to almost trip over his feet and you laugh. you used to stay over all the time with him, it’d been forever since he asked you that question, and you were absolutely thrilled.

“i’d love to.”

[elstattoo]

Ellie (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship)

MINORS DNI, MEN DNI

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

WC: 7k

Summary: Ellie was infatuated the day she met you. The two of you instantly growing close, in turn she fell in love with you. One problem, she was a coward.

Content: 18+, best friends to lovers troupe, college auish, loser!Ellie, femme type reader, both Ellie and reader are oblivious asf, weed (e using), smut, sub! ellie, thigh riding, pussy eating, fingering, biting, marking, top! reader

Divider Credit: @enchanthings (I love your work so much! You make the cutest stuff) 😭💗

Author’s Note: Huge thank you to @astralnymphh for reading this for over and giving me suggestions! You’re the best and I love you mwah!! You also inspired me to write loser Ellie… Sooo ♡ Based on the song Jenny by Studio Killers! Also… We need more sub! Ellie… please

I. A Smile Beyond Words —

Both you and Ellie had been friends as long as you could remember. The memory was like yesterday: it was first when Ellie moved into your neighborhood, your mom lugging you over with her, freshly baked cookies in hand, she knocked gently on the door and waited for an answer.

“Mom, they’re still unpacking. This is probably such a bad time,” you sighed. Anxiously you began bouncing your foot, staying close to your mom almost to hide yourself from whoever would answer the door.

A smile was still present on her face. With a hand, she waved you off. “Nonsense, sweetheart! Who wouldn’t want home-baked goods?” she giggled. The house's front door opened, and a gruff-looking man nodded, greeting you both. 

“Hello, may I help you?” he remarked, his hands still steady on the door. 

“Hello! Sorry to bother you sir, but my daughter and I here saw you move into the neighborhood..” your mother began, her tone was cheery, and welcoming, “And we wanted to say hello! And give you this.” She offers him the cookie container.

His mouth hung open for a second in disbelief, before he collected himself and took the container from her hand. “That’s very kind of you, miss. My name is Joel… Joel Miller,” he mumbled, his other hand reaching out to offer his hand out to shake your mother's.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Joel… Got any kids?”

“Yeah.” His eyes fell onto you briefly before continuing, “Probably about your age actually, let me call for her.” His head turned, and he yelled: “Hey Ellie! Come greet our neighbors.”

A voice from farther within the home yelled back, clear annoyance in the tone, “Hold on!”

“No! Ellie, now,” he hollered, rolling his eyes, and turning to your mom. She laughed, knowing all too well how that felt. 

A sigh escaped Ellie’s lips. She stopped unpacking her room and made her way to the front door, where she saw her dad chatting away, a container in his hand, and a woman on their front steps with a girl who looked her age beside her.

Joel noticed Ellie and cleared his throat, “This is my daughter… Ellie.”

Ellie, now seeing you, awkwardly stood beside Joel and didn’t dare utter a peep. Her freckled cheeks flushed, embarrassment crawling over her bones realizing not only your mom heard her reply, but so did you. She realized the tone she used wasn’t the best… especially for her first impression. Joel’s free hand slung around her shoulder, and she groaned, waving at you realizing that’s what he was hinting to do. 

She didn’t expect you to brightly smile at her and introduce yourself, finally feeling at ease seeing a girl your age in your neighborhood, let alone your next-door neighbor. And, that’s how you and Ellie met.

She’d somehow found the courage to bring you to her room, posters of Savage Starlight, space, and her favorite band adorning her walls. 

“Wow! Your room is so cool, I haven’t had a girl my age like you in our neighborhood in… who knows how long,” you sighed. 

Ellie gulped, nervously fiddling with her nail beds. “U-uh thanks…” Her eyes were glued to the many boxes still scattered around her room.

You settled your eyes back on her, noticing her frigid gestures. I know you’re nervous, but I am glad to meet you,” you beamed, hand reaching out to shake hers. “I do want to be your friend… Your best friend, maybe even…” 

Ellie laughed the thought at the time seeming impossible to her lonely self. “You’re joking right?” She bit her lip, feeling bad suddenly because of her tone.

You shook your head, reaching out and grasping her hand. “No, I’m serious. I promise, pinky swear,” you winked at her, holding out your pinky.

Her mouth hung open, this was the first time something like this had ever happened to Ellie. “Okay…. Let’s give this a try then—shall we?” She stuck out her pinky finger, twisting it with yours to conclude the pinky promise. 

From there, the two of you were stuck together like glue in your college, even through your high school years. The two of you had a relationship like no other, even with the new friends you’d both made over the years.

Things never changed.

II. Best Friends —

Even though you and Ellie met at fourteen, it didn’t stop you from having things like matching bracelets. Both you and Ellie had a set of bracelets you made together, first when your friendship had started. 

It was an idea sparked when the two of you were looking for a specific movie. You shuffled around different items to try to discover the movie you’d both tried your hardest to find. But with no luck yet, you kept your search up.

This leads to you finding a box of beads, strings, and other things to make bracelets or other jewelry. 

You glanced over the box, showing it to Ellie. “Hey! This looks fun, Ellie. Let’s try it. Pretty please…”

She rolled her eyes, her slit eyebrow-raising. “Beaded bracelets? What are we—in middle school?” Ellie teased, she was kidding and wouldn’t ever want to be mean to you seriously. She’d never want to cross that line or break it. 

You pouted, hugging the box to your chest. “Ellie… If you’re going to be my friend… We need matching bracelets, so…pretty please?” You gave your best puppy dog eyes, trying to make them appear bigger to guilt Ellie into accepting. 

She was going to accept, either way, she just liked pushing people’s buttons. “Of course we can do it!” She smiled at you, grabbing the box and the two of you created each other a bracelet. It read your name, yours reading hers, along with your favorite color beads, and some charms. 

You smiled, looking over the bracelet now on your wrist. You’d swore you’d never take it off, and Ellie did the same. 

“Thank you,” you shyly said.

You were too kind, too kind to be thanking for something like a friendship bracelet. She was just so honored to be your friend, so silently, Ellie hugged you. 

The embrace cut you off guard, her not saying anything back besides abruptly pulling you into a hug. A hug you never wanted to let go of. 

Ellie’s physical affection towards the people she loved was one of her strongest ways of showing she cared about someone, including you. She was like a koala bear.

Your koala bear. 

III. Stolen Lipstick —

Ellie was captivated the day you smiled at her; it took her breath away, and even to this day, it makes her heart pound slightly in her chest. Ellie stared at you, sitting in your vanity chair and applying lipstick to your lips. She observed the way the pink made your eyes pop, the color complimenting the color of your skin.

You hummed, shaking your head, hand extending for a makeup wipe to remove the color. “It’s not the right one, El. I don’t know, I’ll try this one,” you frowned. You removed the previous color, puckering your lips, and applying the new darker shade of pink to your lips. “Yep! This is the one.”

Ellie smiled, loving either color on you. “Whatever makes you happy, babe,” she shrugged, the stupid giddy smile never leaving her face. It was like you cast a spell on her from the day she met you, that had her obsessed, and hopelessly in love with her perfect best friend.

You shifted your body to face her, “You’re too nice to me, I’m going to the bathroom, and then let’s get going, okay?” You muttered, getting up and slipping out of the door hearing a little ‘mhm’ from Ellie.

Once Ellie was sure the coast was clear, she got up from your bed and slipped over to where you sat only moments ago. She grabbed the previous color of lipstick you wiped off, pocketing it into her baggy camo pants. She figuratively crossed her fingers, hoping and praying you wouldn’t notice the color gone. In her gut, she felt bad but knew it truly would go unnoticed due to the many lipsticks you had.

She swallowed, awkwardly looking at your vanity for a moment then remembered you’d be back soon. She went over to the bed and laid back down in the position she was previously in before you left. Her face hit your pillow, the scent of your perfume filling your lungs, almost lulling her to slumber. Ellie was almost grateful she scurried back into your bed, because only seconds after you came bouncing back into your room. 

“Hey! Sleepyhead! Wakey, wakey let’s go,” you excitedly clapped your hands together and walked over to your bed, where Ellie was comfortably lying.  

She groaned, turning her head propped up on your pillows to face you. “Alright, fine I’m getting up,” she spoke and got up from your bed. 

You grinned at her, and it made her hold her breath at the sight. As a person you are so alluring and pretty to Ellie, the simplest thing like your smile had her down so bad. It was almost hard to be around you at times. The two of you were always together, so always pushing aside her feelings for you was swallowing her whole. 

But one thing about Ellie is that she is a coward. A coward too afraid to admit her feelings for you and ruin your friendship. So that’s why she did little things, like stealing your lipstick and other things now and then. It was nothing you’d miss, but those things meant the world to her. So, Ellie felt like both a loser and a coward simultaneously.

IV. Hidden Sorrows —

Silence. A dead silence fell over Ellie.

Ellie felt her mouth run dry, she opened it for a moment and quickly closed it, still at a loss for words. Her brow arched, green eyes glimmering under the car’s light. “You got a boyfriend…?” She uttered, finally forming words.

You were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, nervously fiddling with your manicured nails. “Mhm, he asked me out yesterday, and I wanted to tell you. Are you upset?” You noticed her quiet behavior when you mentioned it and frowned. 

Ellie noted the obvious frown on her face and shook her head, “No, no! I didn’t mean to come off that way. Just… scared he’ll hurt you or something,” she whispered. She tried to play off her quietness and shift in attitude upon hearing the information as simply, that. 

She didn’t want you to know that her heart broke in two. The words hit her like a ton of bricks, sadness washing over her knowing her perfect best friend was taken. Taken and stolen from her now that you had a boyfriend. Ellie wanted to be the person you were taken by, but she’d never admit that, especially not to you.

It was silly, she knew she’d never get a shot with you or even a chance, but here she is, sad over you getting a boyfriend. Which was inevitable, wasn’t it? It was like the earth was mocking her and playing some huge prank on her.

“Is that it? I don’t know… You just seem so off since I told you about it,” you pouted, puffing your cheeks. You were being playful, but also serious with your tone. Ellie could tell. She could always read you, like an open book.  

Ellie eagerly nodded, not wanting to infringe on your happiness. Even if she loved you, your feelings always came first. It would be selfish of her to be upset. 

So she bit back those feelings, as always, and pushed a reassuring smile on her face. “Yes that’s… it. I promise.” She grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently to try and reassure you.

Your hand squeezed hers back, leaning over from your seat to lean your head against her broad shoulder. The way you comfortably rested your head on Ellie had her breath hitching for a moment, the smell of your perfume filled her nostrils, and the warmth of your hand was so comforting. 

“Thank you for looking out for me though, El,” you muttered, nuzzling yourself more into Ellie’s shoulder. 

You always enjoyed being close, and physical with Ellie. It was one of your favorite aspects of your friendship. Sometimes you’d wonder why no other person made you feel the way Ellie does. Somehow, you chalked up how you felt for Ellie as nothing more than a friendship. Despite the numerous times you or Ellie had been asked, you’re nothing more than friends.

Feeling you nuzzle more into her shoulder, she peered down, despite you being in a relationship now she couldn’t love you any less. Ellie felt her face grow warm, she knew she was staring but you looked so pretty in the dim light of the car, your hair sprawled on her shoulder and face nuzzled into her shoulder.

Ellie leaned down, inhaling the scent of her hair and pressing a sweet kiss to your head. She didn’t miss the muffled giggle from you, and she smiled, her hand squeezing yours once again. It was a habit of hers. 

“Always, pretty.”

V. Smoke It Away —

There were always points in your and Ellie's relationship that crossed the line, many, many times. Even due to just how touchy the two of you were. Always cuddling, holding hands, and hugging. It was things friends did, but it always felt like there was more between you two.

Ellie sighed, her tattooed arm gripping the pillow in frustration. Why did feelings have to be so complicated? Why did she have to be so hopelessly in love with her best friend? These were questions that often crossed her mind, especially now you had a boyfriend named… What was his name again? Derek? Micheal?

Ellie, in all honesty, didn’t care. She would find herself drifting off when you’d bring anything about your boyfriend up. She wanted to be happy for you, and she was; but the more you talked about him and spent time with him the distance grew. Ellie didn’t like that. Distance between the two of you isn’t something she’s used to, so when she saw you texting her less, not replying to her spam of Instagram reels, and just less of you. It made it all worse.

She felt almost hollow, laying on her bed, messy auburn hair sprawled across the pillow. She felt her heart break just like the time in her car when you’d first broken the news. Ellie hadn’t yet noticed her eyes watering, the tears building up and pouring out, dampening her cheeks. She reached up to wipe them, the effort almost pointless with more and more tears breaking the floodgates. 

The walls she worked so hard building up came crumbling down, and Ellie let herself finally feel it. Previously, she was forcing herself to not cry. Almost like she wasn’t allowed to feel heartbroken over you being in love with someone else, but was she? It felt selfish in a way, but now you were distancing yourself.

It felt like a punch in the gut, she sobbed harder, nails digging into the sheerness of her pillowcase. She sniffled, finding it harder to breathe because of how hard she was crying. She’d never felt such an overwhelming feeling. She hated it.

Ellie’s love for you was a powerful all-consuming force. It filled her heart to the brim, leaving little room for anyone else. But then the heartbeat and sadness you’d somehow brought into her life hit her like a tidal wave, overpowering everything else she felt. She knew it wasn’t you who was responsible for this pain, but her cowardice for not revealing her feelings to you weighed heavily on her shoulders. She was haunted by the what-ifs and the could-have-beens, wondering if things would have been different if only she had found the courage to speak up.

Maybe you didn’t realize the amount of affection Ellie truly held for you. Ellie knew you were oblivious to her feelings, she always tried to hide them even with how close your relationship was. Boundaries were in place, at least she thought and she’d never tried anything with you or crossed them, because Ellie genuinely loves you. 

Ellie sat up from her tear-stained pillow and wiped the remaining tears with her sleeve. “Fuck this… I need to smoke,” she mumbled to herself. Her voice sounded hoarse from her crying. Ellie rubbed at her eyes, the skin puffy and red, and her previous tears also accompanied the congestion in her nose. 

Opening the little drawer on the side table, Ellie pulled out her pre-rolls and lighter. She mentally thanked herself for preparing a few for times like these. She brought the end to her lips, flickering the lighter to light the other side. She inhaled it, the smoke filling her lungs, helping numb her emotions.

She breathed out the smoke, the room growing foggy from it. Ellie brought it back to her lips, taking another drag, then another, and another before she dabbled the end of the finished preroll into her star-shaped ashtray. 

The weed made her feel giddy and light, but she sat there on her bed, its effects washing over her, and her thoughts turned to you. She felt a longing for you, a sense of comfort and familiarity, as the thought of you was like a warm embrace from home. Her heart ached for you, even after everything Ellie missed your presence in your life. 

It didn’t help when she caught eye of the friendship bracelet clad on her wrist, yet another reminder of you. Ellie pitifully frowned, using her free hand not occupied holding the pre-roll, to slide it off her wrist. She meekly clutched it in her hand, tossing it onto her bedside table.

A buzz sounding from her phone tore her from her antics. She hummed and grabbed the device, the screen lighting up with a notification, it was from you.

You: ‘Hey Els, sorry for not replying to these till now. Is it okay if I come over?’

Ellie’s breath hitched reading the message, but without thinking she clicked on it and began to reply. The weed had lowered her inhibitions, making it easier for her to give in to her true feelings. Despite the tears that had streaked her face less than an hour ago, Ellie couldn’t deny seeing you. She found herself missing you more with every passing minute. 

Ellie: ‘Yeah, come whenever. See you soon :)’ 

Ellie let out a soft sigh as she turned her phone off, throwing it on her bed and laying back. She closed her eyes, the silence in her room seemed to echo the hollowness in her chest, and she found herself staring at the ceiling as her thoughts swirled over you. She tried to push the memories of you aside while she waited for you, the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, but they stubbornly refused to be silenced. 

Her brain or heart was somehow always testing her too long for you, and you finally would see her after a dreadfully long week. It felt incredibly long to her, never going so long without seeing the person who… made her the happiest. 

VI. Friends? Or More? —

You almost felt stupid for not listening to Ellie or reaching out about how your stupid boyfriend, just shy of one week, cheated on you by kissing some random girl at a party, you kicked him in the nuts and walked away. Somehow, you did an excellent job of swallowing down the tears in front of everyone and shakily calling your mom to come pick you up. 

Your mother answered immediately and was on her way to get you within minutes once you texted her the location. When she arrived, she found you in a state of despair and self-pity. Following the party, you locked yourself away from the world, wallowing in your stupidity and pain of the entire situation.

The universe seemed to taunt you with every attempt you made to move on from Ellie as if it was trying to send you a sign that you should just confess your feelings to her. You had tried to find happiness in your current relationship, and when your boyfriend asked you out, it caught you off guard, but you accepted nonetheless. 

You cried over being cheated on but didn’t feel sad over your ex-boyfriend. You were lying in your bed, covers swallowing you up, and self-pity absorbing all your being. Usually, you were a bubbly person, full of energy, and always reaching out to your friends, but not for the past week. You’ve been radio silent, even with Ellie whom you never went thing long without seeing or texting. You pouted to yourself, feeling bad for leaving Ellie in the dark for so long. Lifting out of your cave of blankets, you reached over to your nightstand and texted Ellie asking if you could come over. 

When Ellie quickly replied and agreed to meet up, your heart leapt in your chest, almost infusing you with a sudden burst of energy through your veins. You couldn’t wait to see the person you love the most in the world, Ellie. You kept it in the back of your mind as you dressed it had been a foolish decision to try dating a man, and the very thought of romantic interactions made your stomach churn with repugnance. It was never worth accepting his offer, to begin with, then he goes and cheats on you.

The entire situation seemed almost comical as you developed deeper into your thoughts, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at your attempts to enthusiastically tell Ellie about your relationship. The truth was, your feelings for her had been eating away at you the entire time, plaguing your mind and every thought. You gave a shake of your head in an attempt to dispel the tingling sensation that coursed through your body when you thought about her. 

Ellie had always been your closest, dearest friend, and you over time fell in love with her. It was hard not to, she was so kind to you and treated you like a person. She was the most genuine person you’d ever known. You yelled down to your mom you were going to Ellie’s, throwing on a coat in an attempt to keep yourself warm and shielded from the cold and making your way out the front door.

Within seconds, you were over to Ellie’s, her living next door so convenient. You raised your hand, knocking softly but loud enough for Ellie or Joel to hear. It was only seconds after you knocked, the door opened and you saw Joel standing there. 

He smiled widely at you, “Hey Kiddo! Been a while seen I’ve seen you, Ellie is in her room. Come in it’s freezing.” 

You returned his smile, walking in through the door to escape the cold. Joel closed the door softly behind you. “Yeah, it’s great to see you too! I’m going to go see Ellie,” you replied, a polite smile still etched on your face. 

He nodded, walking back to the living room to the sofa. You made your way upstairs, gulping as you made your way up the stairs, your stomach doing somersaults, your right hand clutching the wooden railing. You never felt so nervous to see Ellie, but having to explain… everything and potentially confess to her crossed your mind. So you were in a pickle. 

When you reached Ellie’s room, you knocked waiting for her to signal it was okay to proceed inside. “Come in!” She yelled, it was muffled by the door.

You braced yourself before turning the doorknob and entering her room. When you saw her figure, sitting on her bed with her grey sweatshirt, eyes red and blotchy, the room smelly of weed: your heartbeat sped up. You closed the door and quickly made it over to her, taking a seat only inches apart.

“Hey… So I’m sorry about being kind of distant this week,” you muttered, the guilt you felt making it too hard to make eye contact. 

Ellie fiddled with her fingers, her leg bouncing with anxiety. “Kind of distant…?” Ellie huffed, not bringing herself to look at you either knowing she’d fold at the sight of you. Her tone came off harsher than she intended. She bit her lip, thoughts going millions a minute after she said that. 

You almost felt your mouth go dry, but you understood why you never did this to Ellie, not in all the years you’d known each other. So the guilt continued to reside in your every being, your hands felt clammy as they lay by your side. You bit your lip, shaking your head, “I’m so sorry- Ellie please look at me,” you pleaded, your hand reaching out to grasp hers. “Let me explain.”

Ellie’s hand grabbed yours, squeezing it and finally looking up. Her usually brightly green eyes were duller looking, which made you frown. “I’m sorry for my tone, sweetheart. Didn’t mean it, just grouchy your douchy boyfriend stole you,” she whispered.

You chuckled at the mention, which had Ellie opening her mouth an ‘o’ shape, surprised you didn’t already bite back at her remark about your boyfriend. “Speaking of, he cheated on me, and turns out men aren’t for me. I disappeared because I was wallowing in self-despair,” casually you shrugged it all off as if it weren’t a big deal. Your whole demeanor seemed nonchalant. A smile was tugged stupidly on your face, your hand squeezing Ellie’s back. 

Her eyes see red upon hearing the mention of him cheating on such an amazing person like you, but then again… Now you’re single and he’s not in the picture. Relief flooded over her, the weed accompanying that feeling. “Wait… He cheated on you and you don’t like guys?” Her eyebrow quirked, somehow she needed you to confirm it again.

“Yep…” you purr, scooting closer to Ellie, your thighs now touching. “I like someone else.” Your other hand reached over and grasped her face, forcing Ellie to maintain eye contact with you. Your thumb trailed over the numerous freckles littered upon her cheek, a sly grin on your face as you moved your face closer to Ellie’s. “I like you, Ellie.”

Her pink tongue ran over her lips quickly, she blinked a few times, not believing what she was hearing. “W-what…” she uttered, disbelief written on her face. “You- Sweetheart, like me? I must be dreaming, I swear…” 

“Nope, you aren’t, Ellie…” you rasped, your thumb tickling her skin. Even with her eyes all red, and her hair thrown in her usual half-up bun, she looked so pretty. Without thinking your lips fell onto hers, only for what felt like seconds before you pulled away. “Fuck- I just confessed and kissed you, El. I’m sorry-” 

Your worries were swallowed by Ellie’s lips on yours, she hungrily kissed you again, your lips swallowing the tiny moan she let out. As you kissed her, you could taste a distinct tang of weed on her tongue. Her hand lets go of yours, her fingers gripping your sides. The kiss was wet and intense, fueled by a sense of urgency and longing. Both of you are feeling the weight of the week-long separation. 

You pulled back briefly in need of air as you were caught off guard by the kisses. “Ellie, I’ve wanted to ruin our friendship for who knows how long…” you panted, your eyes glued to hers. 

She felt jittery, your hand now free from hers, comfortably grasping her side, your hand going up and down her side. It was like the weed heightened everything she was feeling, her pupils were blown out as she took her breaths of air. 

She shook her head, tongue once again darting out to wet her lips. “You’ve… wanted to ruin our friendship? God, I’ve wanted to kiss you… I felt like some stupid lesbian yearning over her best friend.” She sighed, shaking her slightly at her obliviousness to your feelings for her. 

You giggled, the sound making her smile harder. She missed you… and missed that sound escaping your lips. She wished she could mentally take a picture of you, the way you captivated her was like nothing else. You were like an angel, somehow, that blessed the earth with your beauty and kindness. 

“Glad we both feel the same way, now shut up, and kiss me, Els,” you playfully tugged her forward and pressed your lips against hers. The desire, and need for each other are overly apparent.

She nodded her head eagerly into the kiss, her lips eagerly pressing back. Your tongue swiped against her lower lip, the sensation driving her wild. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, you were an entirely new experience for the girl. 

An experience like this she’d imagined more times than she could count on her hand, but one that was happening. She still couldn’t believe it. 

She opened her mouth, realizing you wanted excess inside. Feeling your tongue against hers made Ellie let out another breathy moan, your tongues messily sliding against one another. You took the opportunity to suck on Ellie’s tongue, the sensation going straight to her core, her grip tightening on your hips. 

The grip she held on you only furthered fueled your actions, you went back to greedily kissing her, almost sucking the life out of the poor girl from just kissing. 

The pair of you separated, chests rising and falling, small huffs escaping your lips. You and Ellie stared at one another, a stupid grin on both of your faces. Ellie’s once dull eyes were dilated, focused, and glistened with a spark of something else. 

“Ellie,” you grinned, “Would you… Are you okay with me going further than just kissing? If not that’s okay… just really want to make you feel good.” Your own eyes twinkled, the same sparkles appearing in Ellie’s like your own. 

“Yes… Absolutely. Anything you want I’ll do, just please…” She gripped your hips, the begging having more of an effect on you than you’d think.

“I’m glad you want it just as much as I do. Okay lay back on your bed for me,” you breathed out. She obeyed, immediately getting onto her back as you instructed.

You crawled over to her, your gaze fixed on the sight before you - Ellie lying back, eyes begging for something… anything, her hands pathetically gripping the sides of her bed. It surely was a sight. Her whole demeanor leaked of neediness, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she patiently waited for you. She looked absolutely delicious, ready to be eaten up. 

Of course, you were starving for a taste. You tugged at her sweatpants, signaling to her you wanted them off. She nodded eagerly, you discarded the piece of clothing and threw it behind you without a care in the world. 

Ellie was sprawled beneath you, her body now clad in only her boxers and a sweatshirt. You wanted to savor this moment, engrave it in your memory, to finally show Ellie how you truly felt for her. You wanted to make her feel so good she’d see stars, the same ones she excitedly points out to you. This was a special moment for you, considering how long you’ve yearned to touch her this way.

You moved to sit between her legs, grabbing at the flesh of her thighs that was decorated with various freckles and moles. The feeling of your hands on her skin made Ellie tremble, her green eyes closed in bliss. Until they fluttered open, her head snapping to look at the unexpected sensation now pressing between her legs.

The sensation was coming from your knee pressed against her clothed pussy, you rubbed it back and forth, your eyes never peeling from Ellie’s face to watch how she’d react. Her mouth dropped open, hands dropping to the sheets to ground herself. You applied a little more pressure, slowly going faster and then slow.

Ellie’s eyes looked glossed over, almost like glass. “Please… do something,” she whined, hips lifting to rub against your thigh herself. 

This had you halting her hips immediately, Ellie pouted at the action. If she wanted to do the work, then she could. You backed away, retracting your knee from against her, Ellie’s pout growing wider. The distance you created displeased her, she wanted you as close as possible.

“Ellie, I want you to listen to me and follow my instructions. I want you to straddle my thigh and ride it for me. Do you think you can do that for me?” You batted your eyelashes at her, your lower hand slowly gliding from the lower part of her leg to the inner part of her thigh. 

Her skin felt like it was on fire, every touch of your skin against hers sending another wave of warmth over her. She nodded her head, too eager to form words yet. “Yes, I can.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the eagerness and desperation radiating off Ellie. She shifted her body back, no longer laying down, and created space for you to lean back against her pillows. You settled yourself against her many pillows and stuffed animals, spreading your thigh to provide a space for her to sit. Faintly, you tapped your thigh, signaling to her what to do.

Ellie bit her lower lip, teeth nibbling into her soft lips. She crawled over to you, sitting herself comfortably on your thigh. When she finally sat herself down, underwear still on, she felt her face grow hot. “Should I.. uh… keep this on?” Ellie avoided eye contact with you, finding it too embarrassing due to the position and how new this all was.

This was not something you would let slide, not for a minute. You grasped under her chin, lifting her forest green eyes to meet yours. You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. “Ellie, I never said to take them off, did I?” You pressed her, leaning forward to tug at her sweatshirt. “This though? Off.”

Ellie listened, taking the hoodie off and throwing it into the abyss of her room. She looked at you again, waiting for further instructions.

“Waiting for more instructions from me? Good girl, Els.” 

The nickname sounding velvety off your tongue, Ellie subconsciously moved against your thigh, the rough material of your pants making the perfect friction for her pussy. She moaned, a breathy whiny moan slivering out of her pretty lips, her hands desperately gripping your shoulders, dull nails leaving crescent patterns in their wake from how hard she was digging. 

She moved her hips back and forth, wanting—no—needing more friction. “Yes, please let me keep going,” she whined, eyes skewing shut, and holding onto you for dear life. 

 “I’m not stopping you,” you leaned closer, your lips mere inches from her ear, “Make yourself feel good.” Before pulling away you pressed a kiss to the shell of it, the action making Ellie’s breath hitch. 

Ellie frantically began moving her hips, her underwear growing damper, the friction gliding perfectly with her clit. She snapped her head back, her boobs moving with the frequency of her hips. Your hand moved forward, grabbing at her breasts, your lips sucking at her nipples. You nibbled and sucked, leaving marks on the flesh—to claim her as yours.

Ellie sighed, loving the harsh love bites you were littering across her chest. Ellie moved one hand to grip your waist, the other steadied on your shoulder. She tried moving faster, the friction from her underwear no longer enough for her. She needed more.

“This not enough for you?” You quipped, noticing her once fast movements suddenly slowing little by little. 

Ellie pathetically shook her head, her voice trembling as she spoke, her face begging for more. “No, I need more. Please… Can you touch me without these on? Can’t feel anything…” 

You pretended to debate and think about your answer but nodded. “Yes, lay down,” you instructed. You massaged her sides, fingertips dipping her sides playfully as she scooted off you. Her legs were shaky, making you laugh.

Ellie slid off next to you, rolling her eyes at you laughing at her. The sensations flowing through her body and straight to her core were the cause of no one other than… you. Without a word, she removed the last layer of clothing still clad to her body. Her underwear. 

She shimmed them off, leaving her fully bare and exposed, her wet pussy now on full display for you to see. Your mouth began salivating at the sight, her pussy already so sensitive and puffy from just dry humping. You returned to your original position, Ellie lying down, you hovering over her, in between her thighs. 

Your hands pressed firmly, grabbing at the fat of her thigh, your dainty nails ever so gently scraping the surface of her delicate skin. Your face inched closer to her core, and you pressed a gentle kiss along her thighs, making your way close to where she wanted. In your wake, you left more love bites, and little bruises making sure to leave as many as you could.

You craved to express your devotion and admiration for Ellie in the most profound way possible, and this was your way of doing so. As you worship her body, taking the time to adore and cherish every part of her body, every little nook and cranny. Finally, you pressed a tender kiss to her clit, Ellie’s hand flying instinctively to grip a fistful of your hair. She let out a groan, one deep within her throat, too overwhelmed by the sensation and her pussy pulsing for attention. 

With your tongue, you licked from her clit and down and greedily sucked away at the wetness. The taste of her was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, as you slurped away at her juices, Ellie tried to squeeze her legs shut, the sensations from your tongue almost too much for her. Your grip tightened on her legs, refraining her legs from closing around your head.

“My god, El… You taste amazing,” you groaned into her heat, the vibration adding an extra layer of sensitivity to the mix.

“Please! I am so close… Oh fuck-” Ellie shuddered, her mouth agape and tiny whines leaving, hips moving against your mouth desperately. Her forehead crinkled, sweat drops forming as she got closer and closer to her sweet release.

Her stomach was twisting in knots, your tongue relentless and not stopping as you sucked on her clit like it was your favorite piece of candy. Ellie’s wetness was leaking out from her hole; to help further push her over the edge, you pushed two of your fingers inside. An obscene wet sound came from it, just showcasing how wet Ellie was. You pumped your digits a few times, Ellie’s hold tightening even more.

The coil within her stomach snapped when she felt you curl and pump your fingers in, then out. Alongside the nonstop stimulation of your tongue working itself to get a drop out of her. Ellie whined, riding out her release on your face, your slender fingers still curled inside before slipping them out. You eased them out with a squelch, dragging them up to swipe through Ellie’s folds.

Lazily, you cleaned up her, not wasting a single drop of her orgasm. Your tongue lapping up her juices as if your life depended on it. Her grip loosened on your hair, Ellie’s chest rising and falling, trying to recover from her high. You sweetly kissed Ellie’s clit one more time, pulling away and kissing up her stomach.

“How did that feel?” You glanced at her, noticing her body trembling from the release. “I hope it felt okay, and… I really do mean what I said, Els.”

She lifted her head, eyes still shut, but snapping open when she heard you say those words. “I know, and it felt amazing… Are you kidding?” Ellie chuckled, a dazed smile on her lips. “I meant what I said too.” 

You felt yourself instantly melt hearing her say that, you laid your head on her stomach, finding comfort in listening to Ellie’s breathing. You peered at her from that position, heart racing a million miles a minute. “I love you, Ellie. I’m in love with you.”

She grinned harder, her hand reaching to smooth out some loose hairs at the top of your head. “And, I’m in love with you. You’re truly my dearest friend.” 

“Friend? You know we’re more than that now… Way past being just friends, Ellie,” you snorted. You leaned up to kiss her on the lips, pecking them softly, before pulling away to rest your head against her chest. 

Your eyes trailed off to the side, catching sight of the charmed matching bracelet you and Ellie shared, promising to never take it off, you clicked your tongue and narrowed your eyes teasingly. “Really, El? Took off the bracelet?”

She snapped out of her blissful trance, cheeks warming that you’d noticed. She’d completely forgotten she took off the bracelet in the mess of her feelings. You’re an observant person, so of course, you’d pick up on something like that. “Fuck, sweetheart. Smoked a little and got too… into my feelings.”

You reached over, and with little effort grabbed the bracelet. Guilt twanging your heart for making Ellie so upset, you sat up again, grasping Ellie’s wrist delicately, and sliding the bracelet back on. “Not a big deal, now, never take it off,” you pouted. Fingers tapping her wrist, dancing over the smooth surface.

Ellie’s lips curled into a small grin, hands enveloping around your waist, tugging you so you were on top of her. “Never,” she whispered, voice oh, so promising, squeezing your hips in reassurance.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

[nonfungible-nightterror]

I have been torrenting since 2007, but putlocker and a few of these others were my go to until I could afford TB storage and a good PC for a home server. Now I use Jellyfin plus Sonarr/Radarr, and NZBGeek with Docker for easy media downloading. Tbh, my spouse did 99% of it cause he's a Linux nerd and all I can manage is a VPN and qbittorrent.

It's a bit of a pain to set up initially but well worth it, especially the paid tracker(NZB), since free streaming sites aren't that reliable (not always great quality and stuff can get taken down). Plus you get to actually own your shit and can old media since these corps don't care about archiving.

If that's a bit much, you can still do well with torrenting. Just use qbittorrent and pay for a vpn, I recommend mullvad or PIA, free ones are unreliable with privacy. It's still cheaper than any streaming service and more useful anyway. 1337x and rarbg are the go for torrents. PirateBay sucked even in the early aughts, they only have brand recognition.

The piracy subreddits were an excellent source of info in getting set up and I highly recommend checking those out.

[tqlepatia]

─ Headcanons young ambessa

Certified big spoon

Ambessa was always the big spoon, no negotiations. She loved wrapping herself around you, making you feel safe and snug. It wasn’t just a comfort thing; it was her way of saying, “I’ve got you, don’t worry about a thing.” If you ever tried to switch it up and be the big spoon? She’d just laugh and drag you right back into her arms like, “Nah, nice try, but this is my job.”

Cigarette Hater with her soul

Smoking? no. She hated the smell with a burning passion. If someone lit up near her, she’d literally wave the smoke away and hit them with a “Do you have to do that right now?” If you smoked, she’d pull some petty drama like refusing to kiss you until you brushed your teeth or popped a mint. “Kiss me when you don’t smell like an ashtray, babe.”

if mess w/you, is messing with her

She was ride or die for the people she cared about. If someone even looked at you funny or the wrong way, Ambessa was already cracking her knuckles, ready to throw hands. She wouldn’t always make a scene (unless it was deserved), but trust, she’d have a very direct convo with anyone who crossed the line. Messing with her loved ones = bad life choice.

Morning mushball

She acted all tough, but mornings were her soft hours. She’d stay in bed, groaning about “five more minutes” while pulling you into a bear hug. Honestly, it was the only time you’d catch her all cuddly and vulnerable without her usual walls up. Nights? Whole different story—she’d be all business and focus, but you could still sneak in and bug her for affection if you were bold.

Lowkey Sentimental

Ambessa had a secret stash of sentimental stuff she’d never admit to keeping. That random flower you gave her one time? Pressed in a book. A doodle you left on her notes? Saved. She wasn’t gonna talk about it, but if you ever found the stash, she’d play it off like, “What? It’s nothing. Don’t make it weird.”

Goofy, but only in private

Around other people, she was all stoic and intimidating, but when it was just you? Full clown behavior. She loved teasing you, throwing sarcastic one-liners, or doing dumb stuff like dramatically mimicking your expressions just to make you laugh. Catch her laughing at her own jokes? All bets are off.

Stubborn af

If Ambessa thought she was right about something, good luck changing her mind. She’d dig her heels in and argue for hours. The only way to win? Either outsmart her with some clever logic or just kiss her mid-rant. She’d roll her eyes and be like, “Fine, you win—for now.”

Thrived on chaos

She had this wild side where she’d do things just for the adrenaline rush. Climbing something dangerous? Breaking a rule just because she could? All in a day’s work. If you hesitated, she’d smirk and say, “What’s life without a little chaos, babe?” Then drag you into whatever nonsense she had planned.

Affection

Once Ambessa decided you were her person, that was it. She’d back you up no matter what and stand by you through thick and thin. But if you betrayed her? Game over. She wasn’t about giving second chances easily—she’d cut you off so fast your head would spin.

Loyal to the bone

Young Ambessa was basically a mix of “don’t mess with me” energy and “I’ll secretly spoil the people I love.” She’d act tough, but if you were lucky enough to get close, you’d see that big ol’ heart under all the sharp edges.

[pitchsidestories]

More than a pretty face II Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1630

summary: Leah is the third wheel whenever she’s with your girlfriend Alessia and you. While the striker struggles with her body image.

author's note: hi everyone, we combined the request with an idea we had in the back of our mind and we hope you'll like the mix of lightheartedness and heavier topics. 🤍❤️

Post-training dinners were one of your favourite team traditions. Every few weeks, after a long, hard session, the entire Arsenal squad would go out for a meal. You loved the combination of good food and conversations with your friends. It was something that you were looking forward to every time.

Too preoccupied with arguing with your sister, you completely forgot about the pasta before you. At least until you heard Kyra giggle on the other side of the table.

“Lessi, are you kidding?”, she laughed.

You watched Alessia frown at her: “Why?”

“There’s only green on your plate.”, Kyra grimaced in disgust, pointing at your girlfriend’s salad.

“Yeah, I wanted a salad.”

You studied her plate from across the table. No toppings, no dressing, just plain salad.

Leah involved herself in their conversation: “Nothing wrong with that. Kyra, you could need some greens too.”

Kyra wrinkled her nose again: “Ew.”

Alessia shrugged, smiling: “She’s not wrong.”

It was a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes, she is. That’s not what you need after a long training session.“, Kyra complained jokingly.

You bit your lip and watched as your girlfriend discussed different food choices with your teammates.

With nervous fingers, you tapped Beths arm and whispered: “Beth?”

The midfielder turned to you: “Hm?”

“I feel like Lessi… I think the comments about her appearance got to her.”, you carefully formulated the worry that had begun to appear in your chest. Suddenly, your stomach was in knots, you weren’t hungry anymore.

“You think so?”, Beth asked in surprise.

“I do… Look.”

She followed your gaze towards Alessia.

“The salad?”

You nodded cautiously: “Yes. Do you think I’m paranoid?”

Alessia had struggled before with her body image, you knew that. So, every sign of changes in her eating pattern sent a subtle wave of panic through your body.

Beth sighed: “I think if you really want to know, you should talk to her.”

You forced a smile: “Ugh, why are you always right?”

“Sorry.“

“Always, right? What did you two chat about?”, Leah asked innocently.

Beth shrugged and deliberately lied to your sister: “Football stuff.”

“Yes, things you wouldn’t understand, Lee.”, you joked, teasing her.

Leah rolled her eyes at you as she so often did: “Oh yeah, because I obviously don’t play football.”

“You do but no that up front.”, you explained.

“Still.”

“Will you drive with us to this team activity thing next week?”

“Nah, I don’t want to be the third wheel again between you two lovers.”, Leah quickly shook her head.

Beth snorted: “You don’t mind that any other time either.”

 “And it's not our fault that your girlfriend is American”, you added in a teasing tone, which earned you a playful slap from your sister.

Her lips formed to a pout:” Doesn’t take away from the fact that I don’t want to hang out with you two. I’m driving with Lia and Kim.”

“Oh, wow.”, you whistled, pretended to be offended by her decision.

This didn’t stop the defender from mockingly continuing: “Besides, you’re a horrible driver.”

“Thanks, Lee.”, you rolled your eyes at her.

It was the night of your team activity, usually it involved dinner and games, and you were leaning against the open door of your bedroom to check on your girlfriend:” You’re ready, Lessi? We should be leaving soon?”

“No, I hate my outfit.”, she groaned in frustration, still laying on the bed.

When you noticed the dried tears on her cheeks, your heart broke a little. In the late afternoon light, the blonde looked gorgeous, and you wished she could see herself as you saw her, the striker was even sadly breathtaking.

You gently took Alessia's hands, in which she had hidden her face: “Less, you look beautiful.”

“I don’t.”, the forward replied with a trembling voice.

“Alessia?”

“Yes?”, your girlfriend glanced up at you.

Softly, you asked her:” Would you like to change into something more comfortable?”

“Can I wear your sweater?”, a small smile appeared on the blonde’s lips.

In one quick swipe you pulled off your oversized pullover to hand it to her: “You.. yes, you can have it.”

Alessia pressed the garment gratefully to her chest and explained:” It’s just the comfiest thing.”

In a sincere tone, you whispered into her ear: “You also look very cute in it.”

For a second, she beamed at your words before her grin disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving only a gloomy expression on her face. “Do you think the comments are wrong or right?”, the striker questioned.

“I knew it was about the comments.”, you mumbled.

 “And oh god, maybe I’m a bad role model if I sometimes don’t feel confident in my own body.”, your girlfriend panicked.

Soothingly you began to stroke her back: ”Lessi, calm down.”

“Sorry.”

You cupped her face tenderly in your hands, hoping that your sentences reached her:” Listen, it’s normal not to feel confident all the time. No one does. You’re not doing anything wrong and you’re not a bad role model.”

“But you and your sister look so perfect.”, Alessia protested weakly.

“That’s not true, Less. We’re not perfect, no one is.”

She smiled sheepishly: “At least you’re perfect to me.”

Apparently, your words began to have an effect, because the striker added cheekily: “Aside from the fact that you snore at night, it's not exactly Sleeping Beauty-like.”

“Shut up!”, you playfully hit her arm with the pillow.

Alessia giggled. The sound was like music to your ears.

A little smirk appeared on her face: “Make me.”

You were only too willing to bridge the gap between the two of you and put your lips on hers until your girlfriend was too out of breath to keep talking.

But before you could make a move, Alessia interrupted herself after checking the time on her phone: “Actually, wait for it until after team bonding.”

You heaved a frustrated sigh but still slipped into your jacket: “Fine. Ready to go?”

“I’m ready.”

You both left your apartment but before you got into Alessias car, you took her hand and held her back: “Less?”

Alessia turned towards you: “Huh?”

“You’re beautiful and you’re a great athlete, okay? It doesn’t matter what other people think.”, you assured her one last time.

She nodded thoughtfully: “Okay.”

“Okay, now let’s go, pretty girl.”, you smiled at her.

You got into the passenger seat of her car while Alessia drove.

“I hope they got Pizza on the menu so we can share.”, your girlfriend said suddenly.

You laughed, surprised by her comment: “Oh no. You always say that and then you’ll complain that the pizza in Italy is better.”

“It’s true! Nothing beats Pizza in Italy.”

“See?”, you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Okay, fine. I still want to share Pizza with you.”

“Me too.”, you grinned. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing how excited Alessia seemed to be.

You arrived at the location five minutes late and you would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for your sister.

“Hi, you two are fashionably late.”, she greeted you with a wink.

You shrugged and lied to her: “My fault. We had to make out in the car first.”

Leah grimaced: “Disgusting.”

“Oh, someone’s a gremlin again.”, Alessia teased.

Your sister pouted and turned to Lia: “Wally, they’re impossible.”

“You love them.”, the Swiss player replied matter-of-factly.

“Sadly, I do but don’t tell them.”

“I would never. But I’m sure they know, you love to hang out of them.”, Lia laughed.

“Even when I feel left out sometimes because look at them.”, Leah complained, pointing at where you and Alessia were studying the menu.

Lia grinned: “They’re a couple and you’re surprised about that?”

“Elle and I are not that bad.”

You looked up and glared at your sister: “Yes, you are.”

“Shut up.”, Leah retorted.

You shook your head: “No. The pizzas arrived, my friends.”

Alessias eyes lit up as a server placed the plate in front of her: “Finally.”

The good food, lively conversations with your teammates and your girlfriend’s genuine smile warmed your heart and soul.

Once the dinner was over Leah gave you a short hug:” Drive home safely.”

“You’re not driving with us?”, you asked astonished.

The defender paused for a moment, pretending to think carefully about the question, before answering with a grin on her lips:” Actually, yes, I’ll come with you, but only if Alessia drives.”

Gallantly, Alessia opened the passenger doors and bowed slightly to you both:” Get inside my passenger princesses.”

“Excuse me. I’m the passenger princess, she can sit in the backseat.”, you promptly protested.

“Ugh, fine.”, Leah grimaced as the blonde sat down right behind you.

With a sweet smile, you turned your head towards your sister:” Sorry, big sis.”

“You’re not really sorry.”, the older woman observed her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Your giggles filled the car:”No.”

Amused, Alessia shook her head and turned up the volume on the radio. Once her car stopped in front of the defender’s house, she said:” Good night, Leah.”

“Night, girls.”, the blonde waved goodbye and skipped buoyantly to her front door.

On the way to your home, your girlfriend began nervously.” Amore, I thought about what you said earlier.”

“And?”

“You were right.”, Alessia conceded.

The car stopped at the red light, the rain pattering on the roof, as you hugged her from the side with relief and gave her a kiss on the cheek: “You’re so much more than a pretty face, Lessi, please never forget that.”

“And so are you.”, she replied in an earnest tone, pressing her lips gently to your hand.

Then Alessia continued the drive through the night, the lights of London guiding you both to your home.