#they just don’t get to see each other every shift

[wcnderlnds]

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you��re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt? 

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect. 

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

[steddieas-shegoes]

matches my weird

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "we are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - dr. seuss

rated t | 1069 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush on eddie, open ending but assume they're gonna kiss later

🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒

Steve knows it’s gross, which is why he never does it when someone else is around. He opens the jar of pickles and the jar of peanut butter.

He scoops out a spoonful of peanut butter because he’s not an animal. He would never risk pickle juice getting in the jar when so many people come over to his house and ransack his cabinets. God forbid Robin try to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and end up with the taste of pickle on it.

She hates pickles almost as much as she hates Vecna. Seriously.

He dips the pickle into the peanut butter and puts it up to his mouth to take a bite.

“What is happening right now?” Eddie’s voice is high pitched and Steve jumps, nearly dropping his snack.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. He can’t hide what he’s doing at this point, so he might as well embrace it.

“I left my jacket here last night, remember? I called and told you I would be by to get it before I went to work?”

Eddie is holding said jacket in his hands and looks…not as disgusted as he probably should be. He just looks surprised.

“Oh, right.” Steve does vaguely remember this phone call, but he was half asleep this morning when Eddie called. He can’t be blamed for forgetting.

“Are you putting peanut butter on your pickles?” Eddie asks as he steps closer.

“I obviously am,” Steve replies.

“Bread and butter?” Eddie clarifies.

Steve checks the jar to be sure. “Yeah.”

“You should try it with the dill ones.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“The regular dill ones are really good in peanut butter. These ones are too, but the savory– Oh! And the sweet and sour ones! I ran out of peanut butter once and used chocolate syrup. Wasn’t as good, but got the job done,” Eddie explains as he walks over and takes a pickle from the jar to dip into the scoop of peanut butter.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“I’ve never known anyone else to do this! I did it when I was little and Wayne thought it was gross, but he always kept pickles and peanut butter in the house for me,” Eddie shrugs as he chews.

“This isn’t you just trying to make me feel like I’m not weird?” Steve doesn’t think someone would go to such lengths, especially not Eddie, but who knows.

“No. Who would do that?”

“I…dunno. I didn’t know anyone else did this. It’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, have you met me?” Eddie laughs. “I’m a pretty weird guy. Wait until you see what I do to my hot chocolate.”

“What do you do?” Steve takes another bite.

“This is Wayne’s fault, but I usually make it with a mix of milk and cola.”

Steve makes a face, but immediately realizes that’s actually probably pretty good. He’s heard of people using cola in chocolate cake before, so why not make hot chocolate with cola?

“I should try that,” he says.

“Yeah, I can make it for you after work if you want. I only have a four hour shift today.”

“I can go get some hot chocolate packets from the store.”

“We don’t need packets if you have syrup,” Eddie says.

“I always have syrup. El and Dustin drink chocolate milk every time they’re here,” Steve sits back in his chair. “But is that really gonna make it sweet enough?”

“Trust me, Harrington.”

“I do.”

It’s a loaded sentence, and Steve recognizes almost immediately that it’s a bit heavy for a very simple discussion about hot chocolate. His face is warm as he reaches over to grab another pickle from the jar.

“So…I can be here around eight?” Eddie continues after a long pause.

“Yeah, man, sounds good.”

Eddie reaches over Steve to get another pickle from the jar. Steve holds his breath as their arms brush against each other. His heart stops for a moment.

“You know, Wayne always says I gotta find someone just as weird as me. I don’t think he meant this, but maybe it’s that simple.”

Steve blinks, staring ahead so he doesn’t do something stupid like stand up and kiss Eddie or pull him into his lap. Now’s not the time to explore the feelings he’s had simmering in his gut for months, not when Eddie has to go to work. They’ve got plans later, maybe he can be brave about it then.

“Anyways! See ya later, Steve.”

Eddie leaves. Steve waits until he hears his truck start up before he throws his head back and groans. He’s ridiculous.

The phone rings and he groans again. He’s almost positive he knows who it is, and her timing is always impeccable.

“Hello?”

“Steve. You have to hear what Keith just told a customer. We would have been fired it it was us,” Robin whispers into the phone.

“Are you calling me while Keith is next to you?”

“Obviously I am.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “What did he say?”

“He told them that if they wanted to watch kid movies as an adult, they should keep that to themselves,” Robin sounds half-crazed. “I promise it sounded more scathing when he said it. The customer left and said he’d never come back. But I always got the creeps from that guy anyway. You know the one who always asks if I turned 18 yet?”

“Gross. Hate that guy. Maybe he won’t come back,” Steve says as he closes the peanut butter jar. “Hey, you know how I have a crush on Eddie?”

“Duh,” Robin says, half-distracted.

“Think I’m gonna do something about it tonight.”

He’s met with silence.

“You there?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do something about it for a month now. Why tonight?”

Steve looks at the jar of pickles and smiles. “Because our weird matches.”

“O…kayyyy. You’re probably right about that.” He hears Keith say something about getting off the phone. “I gotta go, but good luck with that tonight.”

“Thanks, Robs. Do you like pickles dipped in peanut butter?”

“That’s disgusting, Steve. Seriously.”

“Just checking.”

“Do you?” Robin asks, but Keith starts yelling about personal calls on the clock and she rushes to hang up the phone before he can answer.

Steve hangs up and leans his head back against the wall.

“He matches my weird,” Steve sighs, smiling to himself.

[come-as-you-are-111]

Gonna keep requesting (sorry if you’re already swamped, no pressure to write my asks) because you’re one of the best authors on my tumblr rn I am convinced. 🫰

Can we see Thanos picking F!reader for the final round in Mingle instead of Nam-gyu, and when they get inside a room, Thanos takes the opportunity to have a lil impromptu make out session? ✨

“With Me Flower.”

A/N: EEK!! Thank u so much I’m so happy I’m someone’s fav author! Hope you like this!! I tried to bring this request to life so pls enjoy!

Warnings: kissing, squid game gore

The announcement for Mingle blares over the speakers, and the room erupts into chaos.

People shove past each other, scrambling for groups, voices rising in panic. You have seconds to find a room—seconds to stay alive.

Every round, the required number changes. If you don’t make it into a room with the exact amount? You die.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you scan the frantic crowd, searching for Nam-Gyu—

“Two.”

The final round. Pairs only.

The air shifts. Everyone still left turns feral.

You barely have a second to react before a strong hand grabs your wrist.

“With me, flower.”

Before you can respond, Thanos is already yanking you toward the nearest open door. His grip is firm, unyielding, his pace deadly fast.

Other people lunge for the door ahead, desperate to survive.

Thanos shoves one of them back, hard. The man stumbles, nearly falling, but another one grabs for your arm.

“She’s with me.” Thanos snarls, and before you can even blink, his fist connects with the guy’s face.

The sickening crack of bone echoes as the man collapses.

More shouts. More people grabbing, pushing.

“Go, go, go—!” Thanos orders, steering you toward the door as someone tries to yank him back. He elbows them off, shoving them aside with brute force before dragging you through the threshold.

The second you’re inside, the door slams shut.

Silence.

Your breathing is ragged, chest heaving from the adrenaline, your hands still gripping his jacket on instinct.

He exhales a sharp breath, knuckles bleeding. He flexes his fingers like it’s nothing.

“You—” you start, voice uneven, “You fought for me?”

Thanos scoffs, rolling his shoulders, a lazy smirk curling on his lips. “Duh.”

But his usual cockiness is laced with something else. Something darker.

He takes a slow step toward you, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows over his face. “What, you thought I’d let someone else take you?”

Your stomach flips.

The room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. His hands find your waist, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your jumpsuit, testing, teasing.

You should be thinking about the next game. About survival.

But all you can think about is him.

“You scared?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, pulse racing under his touch. But you shake your head. “No.”

His lips twitch. “Good.”

And then—he’s kissing you.

It’s fast, consuming, raw. His hands grip your waist, pulling you in, pressing you flush against him. His lips move hungrily against yours, stealing your breath, making you forget everything—the game, the fear, the deaths.

You gasp against him, fingers threading through his ridiculous purple hair, tugging, desperate for more. He groans, his grip tightening as he backs you up against the wall, his body solid, warm, unrelenting.

It’s reckless. It’s insane.

But neither of you stop.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing heavy. His hands stay on your waist, thumbs brushing soft circles over your jumpsuit.

You’re dizzy. Breathless.

“Thanos…” your voice is barely a whisper.

His lips graze yours again, teasing, tempting. “Hmm?”

You exhale shakily. “This game is going to kill us.”

He chuckles, low and dark, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Then let’s make sure we win.”

And just like that, the speakers crackle to life, the next instructions looming—

But all you can feel is the way he’s still holding onto you.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? This is only my second time writing smt like this (spicy kinda) so I hope yall like!!

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz -talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[gf2bellamy]

hiiii hun💗💗 i love your spencer fics so much i literally get giddy when i open tumblr and i see you’ve put up new ones 🥰🥰

can i request a spencer x neighbour!reader like maybe one of them knocks on their door to complain about noise or accidentally closes the elevator door on them and initially don’t like each other and then they run into each other again and get talking and invite them in for a drink or dinner?

idk if you’ve written something like this already if u have then nvm haha thanksss take careeeee

-🍓

neighbours — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer sort of being dry / cold ( only in the beginning ) , mention of reader having a bad day a/n: thank you so much that makes me so happy :( <3333 - i hope you like this !! also i had to mention of mice and men i love that book so so much

You were having a terrible day. The kind of day where nothing seemed to go right. Your morning coffee had spilled all over your favorite sweater, your boss had dumped an unreasonable amount of work on your desk, and to top it all off, you’d gotten stuck in the rain on your way home. By the time you walked through your front door, you were soaked, frustrated, and in desperate need of some comfort. 

That’s why you had your music turned up loud, the bass thumping through your small apartment as you stood in the kitchen, staring at the oven.

The scent of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air, but they weren’t baking fast enough for your liking. You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter, tapping your foot impatiently. If you stared hard enough, maybe they’d bake faster.

You were so lost in your thoughts that the knock on your door startled you. You straightened up, frowning. You weren’t expecting anyone, and your friends usually texted before showing up.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Standing on the other side was your neighbor—the tall, lanky guy from across the hall. You were pretty sure his name was Spencer. You’d seen him around a few times, always carrying a stack of books or muttering to himself as he fumbled with his keys.

Your friends had heard you refer to him as “the cute neighbour” more than once, and you never felt the need to correct them.

You opened the door slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Hi?” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. 

He stood there, looking slightly awkward and not particularly happy. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a sweater that looked like it had seen better days.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone flat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding direct eye contact. “Could you, um, lower your music? It’s… kind of loud.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things you’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. You crossed your arms over your chest, your frustration from the day bubbling to the surface. “It’s not that loud,” you said defensively, your voice sharper than you intended. “I’m just trying to unwind after a really crappy day.” 

Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment before darting away again. He looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.

“I understand that,” he said slowly, his voice softer now, “but it’s… it’s really distracting. I’m trying to work, and I can’t focus with the bass vibrating through the walls.” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had every right to blast your music in your own apartment, but the look on his face stopped you.

He didn’t seem angry—just tired and a little stressed. Still, you weren’t ready to back down completely. “Fine,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll turn it down. But just so you know, it’s not like I do this every day.” 

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.” 

You didn’t respond, just closed the door a little harder than necessary and leaned against it, letting out a frustrated groan.

Great. Now you were the bad guy. You stomped back to the kitchen and turned the music down, the sudden silence making the apartment feel eerily empty.

The timer on the oven dinged, and you pulled out the cookies, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was heavenly, but it did little to improve your mood. 

In the days that followed , things between you and Spencer were… awkward. Not hostile, but not exactly friendly either. You’d pass each other in the hallway, exchanging the briefest of glances before quickly looking away.

There were no greetings, no small talk—just a dry, unspoken tension that hung in the air.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He was just your neighbor, after all. Sure, he was cute in a nerdy, endearing kind of way, but that didn’t mean you had to be friends.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed every time you saw him and he didn’t so much as smile in your direction. 

A week later, you found yourself in the cozy little bookstore across the street from your apartment. It was one of your favorite places to escape to.

You’d been searching for a specific book for ages—Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. You’d read it before, years ago, but something about the story had stuck with you, and you’d been itching to revisit it.

As you wandered through the fiction section, your eyes scanned the spines of the books until you finally spotted it. There it was, sitting on the shelf like it had been waiting for you.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reached for it, but just as your fingers brushed the spine, another hand reached for it at the same time.

You froze, your eyes darting up to meet Spencer’s. He looked just as surprised as you were, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Sorry,” you mumbled finally, dropping your hand and taking a step back. “You can have it.”

Spencer blinked, his expression softening. “No, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice quiet. “You were here first. I can find another copy.”

You shook your head, gesturing toward the book. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve read it before. I was just… in the mood to read it again.”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the book. “It’s a good one,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “The themes of friendship and sacrifice are really compelling. And the ending…” He trailed off, his gaze distant, as if he were reliving the story in his mind.

You couldn’t help but smile, surprised by how easily he’d opened up about it.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice softer now. “It’s heartbreaking, but in a way that makes you think. I remember finishing it and just sitting there for a while, trying to process everything.”

Spencer nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Exactly. It’s one of those books that stays with you long after you’ve read it.”

The tension between you seemed to melt away as you talked, the conversation flowing more naturally than you’d expected.

You found yourself leaning against the bookshelf, your arms crossed as you debated the symbolism of the rabbits and the dream of owning a farm. Spencer, for his part, seemed to relax too, his gestures becoming more animated as he spoke.

At one point, he paused, his expression turning slightly sheepish. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to come off as rude when I asked you to turn the music down. I was just… stressed, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt. “No, I’m the one who should apologize,” you said quickly. “I was having a bad day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Spencer shifted his weight, his fingers tapping lightly against the book he was still holding. “So, um,” he began, his voice hesitant, “if you’re not in a rush, there’s a coffee shop next door. I was going to grab a cup, and… well, if you’d like to join me, we could keep talking about the book. Or, you know, whatever.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation.. “Yeah,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush creep across his cheeks. “Great,” he said, his voice a little brighter now. “Let me just, uh, pay for this first.”

He turned and walked toward the register, leaving you standing there, slightly stunned. You watched as he handed the cashier the book. When he turned back to you, he held the book out, his expression soft.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. “You should have it. You were looking for it, after all.”

You stared at him, surprised. “But… you paid for it,” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. “I can’t just take it.”

He shrugged, his smile shy but persistent. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking the book, your fingers brushing against his briefly. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your cheeks warming. “That’s… really sweet of you.”

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “So, coffee?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Coffee,” you agreed smiling, tucking the book under your arm.

[wol-fica]

I LOVED LOVED LOVE, your Sabrina carpenter fic can you do more PLEASE like maybe a continuation of the first one I NEED MORE (and maybe some NSFW) 😳☺️☺️

just because you asked so nicely, here’s this out of my good graces ;) - an

————————

Moonlight Startlight

parings - Sabrina Carpenter x G!Preader

warnings - thigh riding, fingering(s receiving), oral(r receiving), semi!public sex, swearing

an - coffeeeeeee 🤤

————————

“Mmm…” Sabrina moaned quietly in your ear, clutching onto you as you left little kisses on her neck.

You both were entangled in the back of her BMW, clinging to one another like velcro while you tortured her with gentle hickeys. Her show had ended a few hours ago, and after parking in the driveway to her mansion, you both had decided you couldn’t contain yourselves anymore.

See, watching Sabrina perform almost every night has gotten you quite peckish, especially seeing the variety of poses she does for Juno knowing full well you were the one she was executing those with. You knew she had wanted to screw around in her dressing room after she was done, but once you saw her bouncing up and down on stage and looking at you with such a seductive stare, you knew you needed to handle her elsewhere.

Now you were here with her shifting in your lap, whimpering softly as your knee rocked back and forth between her thighs, her wetness covering your jeans as she feebly got herself off. She still had her skirt on, brown plaid paired with a button down shirt (which was currently fully unbuttoned) while her panties were stuffed into her mouth. You had used your belt to tie her hands behind her back, gripping her hips to ever so slightly guide her movements during your assault on her neck.

She looked so delicious, her skin glowing from the moonlight shining down through the sunroof. Tears dripped down her face, filling her beautiful blue eyes with a soft warmth. Her eyebrows were upturned, in a position of awareness and pleasure from your consistent touching on her body.

“You look breathtaking my love.” You murmured into her temple, pushing your leg up into her, “So gorgeous.”

She moaned in response, letting her head tilt to the side to rest on yours as she rolled her hips forward and back. Her legs started to shake, thighs tensing and breathing becoming quicker as she began to approach her orgasm. You helped her along, nibbling on her collar bone and licking her sweat coated skin as she tumbled into her release.

She collapsed into your chest, panting softly and taking in gulps of the cold air when you removed her panties from her mouth. You whispered praises in her ear, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of her skirt before pulling the item down her legs.

“Don’t get to comfortable, Sab.” You said, reaching around to undo the belt while the other slipped between her thighs, “I’m not quite done with you.”

“F-fuck.” She stuttered, her soaked cunt clenching around nothing while your digits ran through her folds, “I need t-to be ruined.”

You chuckled, nudging her cheek when she inhaled sharply from your fingers pressing against her entrance, “Oh, I know sweetheart.”

You kissed the shell of her ear before pushing two fingers up into her, sighing in delight from how wet she really was. She gasped, naturally arching her back like you taught her to while she tilted her head back , semiconsciously opening her legs more to give you better access.

She cried out softly, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it when you pressed against that sweet spot just behind her pelvic bone. You curled your fingers into it, pumping them back and forth inside of her without missing a beat. Her walls began to pulse around your digits, clenching in a spastic rhythm, almost of a heart beat.

“Babe…” She whined behind her hand, her eyes fluttering from the intrusion, “m’ close…feels good….”

“I know, baby, I know.” You cooed, rolling your wrist upwards into her with each curl, “I’ll tell you when.”

She nodded, holding onto your bicep for support as she rocked her hips back and forth. You noted on her expression, eyes shut tightly, teeth sinking into her thumb, her cheeks rosy red, all familiar signs of her holding her orgasm at bay.

“Such a good girl, so obedient.” You praised, smiling when she interlaced her fingers with yours, “Cum for me, Sabrina.”

She moaned deeply, a thick sound exuding from the back of her throat. Her body tensed, the tightness of her cunt telling you that she did what you asked, and promptly covered your fingers with her wetness.

You nuzzled her cheek with your nose, slowly removing your fingers and bringing them up to your lips. Her eyes immediately snapped to you, her gaze darkening when you opened your mouth to taste her. As soon as her juices hit your tongue, you groaned, eyes rolling and smiling softly from how delicious she was.

“Tasty.” You commented, wiping the spit off your fingers on your jeans, “As always.”

“Better fucking be.” Sabrina pouted, fidgeting with the button on your pants, “I wanna please you now.”

“Yeah?” You replied, squeezing her hips gently, “Whatcha’ got in mind sweets?”

She hummed, undoing your jeans and pulling them down along with your boxers. Your cock sprung free, bobbing heavily between your legs. She slid to her knees, tying her hair back neatly before leaning forward.

Her eyes locked with yours, big, round, and innocent looking as she began to lick a stripe from the base of your cock all the way to the head. Once she reached the top, she took it in her lips, letting them wrap around your diameter before taking a few more inches into her mouth.

The sight was pleasing, to say the least. Being able to watch such a beautiful woman like Sabrina suck you off like it was her last day on earth was so special. It was intoxicating how she handled you, taking all of you into her mouth with no gag reflex, and slowly dragging all the way back up all whilst blinking innocently up at you was something out of this world.

“God ‘Brina.” You groaned, reaching forward to brush some hair out of her face, “You look so damn good with my dick down your throat.”

She hummed, making you moan from the stimulation, and started to bob her head up and down at a steady pace. Sounds of erotic slurping filled the car, precum mixed with saliva covering your girthy length as she gave you head.

Soon, your orgasm appeared, and you were quick to pushed her head all the way down so her nose was flush with your stomach. You pumped your seed down her throat, moaning in satisfaction when you heard her gulping as much as she could.

“That mouth is something else.” You said, smiling when she giggled as she got back into your lap, “Always the best, baby.”

“Again, better be.” She replied sternly, wiping your cum from the corners of her mouth and popping her fingers between her lips, “I am THE BEST for a reason, remember?”

You laughed, squeezing the fat of her ass, She wrapped her arms around your neck, gazing at you lovingly.

“I’m so in love with you, Y/L/N.” Sabrina whispered, playing with your hair.

“I’m so in love with you, Carpenter.” You whispered back, leaning in before sealing your lips together.

What a great night.

—————————

is this enough food for you people?

[tovibeornottovibe]

Club Rats

Azriel x Fem!OC

Azriel and Merrin have been meeting in clubs for months now. Sometimes, they ditch Rita's for dinner, and most of the time, they end up sleeping together. It's better than relying on the skills of strangers, and they like each other, probably more than either of them would admit. This time, they drink far, far too much, make some regrettable decisions that get them thrown out, and share a moment more intimate than they ever have before. [2.7k words]

warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of spiking and Azriel not taking that as seriously as you should!, self-destructive behaviour, mentions of sex (no smut tho), Azriel being the rude, snarky, imperfect male that he is (not towards the OC, to everyone else)

Prefer to read on Ao3? [this is a series there! let me know if you want me to post those fics on here too (:]

“Azriel.”

He looks up. The sound of the sea washes over him as he sits there, legs hanging off the edge of the dock, with his thigh brushing hers. His wings feel like deadweight, like his muscles aren’t even connected to his body. She’s settled in the crook of the right one, and every time she breathes, her shoulder nudges him where he wants her to put her tongue.

It’s maybe four-in-the-morning. He doesn’t know. They got kicked out of Rita’s not more than an hour ago. Merrin bashed in some male’s teeth. Azriel bashed in his jaw. His shadows won’t tell him why she did it, and he doesn’t know why he helped. 

For the briefest moment, he remembers that they might have banned them for it. He huffs out a laugh.

Both he and Merrin are very, very drunk. He’s not entirely convinced they didn’t get spiked. It should concern him, but they’re both suffering, and that’s a comfort. 

They’ve been trying  to convince each other that they were just in this for the sex for the past few minutes. They like each other, but it’s just release, you know?

Head heavy from the alcohol, he cranes his neck forward to look at her face. He distinctly thinks she is the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and guiltily goes through why she’s prettier than Elain. It’s totally unfair and he knows thinking about it makes him an asshole. Merrin’s hair is a nicer colour and she lacks the etherealness of High Fae that unsettles him. She fits better in his arms; she’s tall enough that he can rest his chin on her head without bending down when they embrace, and when they’re in bed, he can tangle their legs together and she can settle into the curve of his body without issue. Of course, these things were fantasy with Elain.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

She hesitates and something in his gut twists, like he can tell she’s about to say something serious. 

“Are we—are you happy?”

For some reason, that makes him laugh. It’s a horrible, bitter, broken kind of laughter. It’s utterly without warmth. He hates it, actually.

“No,” he says, and it’s true. “Are you?”

She offers him a smile. “Not at all,” she says. “What a fucking pair we make, eh?” Something inside him recoils at the thought of her putting herself at his level. Giggling, she presses her forehead into his shoulder and clutches his forearm where the scars on his skin meet the unmarred flesh. Then she sighs. “Gods,” she says like she’s just discovered the secret to life, “you’re actually an important person, and you’re miserable.”

“It’s not all cocktail parties and fountains of champagne,” he says.

“No,” she laughs. “You torture people for a living.”

Though he stiffens, not even that can knock him out of whatever it was they drank. Feeling him tense, she shifts so her chin is resting on his shoulder, and she laughs again when she sees the look on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she says. “That’s kinda fucked, right?”

It’s stupid that it makes him feel good. It’s stupid that he likes hearing that. Some days, he doesn’t think it bothers him either. And yeah, that is kinda fucked. He kills people for his brother. A lot of the time, they probably don’t even deserve it. Yet, here he is, with the most gorgeous female in the world, drunk off his ass with her, and she doesn’t care that he tortures people for a living.

“It is,” he says. “Really fucked.”

Merrin grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, and he lets her because he wants her to touch him. All of the time. He thinks about her so often that one day it’ll probably get him killed, but if he goes out with her on his mind, he’ll consider it a pretty decent way to die. Cassian would throttle him for saying that. Rhys and Feyre too. Mor would look at him like he’d lost his mind and call him an idiot.

Merrin would make a joke and smile at him.

“I don’t think we’re fucking tonight, Azriel.”

He hums in agreement. “We’re not in a state to do that anyway,” he says, “but I would if we were.”

“I would too.” She goes back to resting her cheek against his shoulder and he can smell the shampoo she uses. Gently, she rubs circles with her thumb on the back of his palm. It’s probably more intimate than they have ever been in bed and the feeling runs up his arm and into his brain. He traces her reddened, bloodied knuckles. “Wanna just sleep?”

He raises a brow at her. “Together?”

“Literally. In the same bed. Just sleep.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on then,” she says softly, pulling herself up more gracefully than the amount of drink in her system should allow for, then she’s tugging him up too, despite the fact that he’s heavier. With the amount of force it takes, she almost loses her balance and tips backwards, but he catches her at the waist. “Back to mine?”

In response, his shadows languidly start to swirl at his shoulders. They’re objecting to the presence of her cat, but the chances are that it’ll be asleep, or otherwise outside, since it likes exploring the city in the early hours of the morning. 

Raskal meows at the bedroom door at inconvenient times: sometimes when they’re asleep; sometimes when they’re in the middle of something else. It’s so achingly domestic that Azriel can’t even be annoyed. Merrin always comes back after letting Raskal out and buries her face into the crook of his neck, clings to his torso like he might disappear if she didn’t. She blames it on the cold, but she’s from the Winter Court and never gets chilly. If he’s awake enough, he pulls her on top of him and cards his hands through her hair, usually in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

Hand-in-hand, they stumble back through the city to her apartment. Merrin makes him crouch down so she can pet a stray cat for what seems like half an hour, but it’s really only for a few minutes. Passersby stare at them and look away when he glares. No one will mention what they see, not to the rest of the Inner Circle; that’s asking for trouble, and the city has had enough. 

He has no idea why he’s letting her do this with him. They aren’t together. They’re club rats who keep finding themselves in each other’s company and more often than not, they end up sleeping together because they trust each other and it’s easier than gaining the attention of a stranger. 

Though, recently, they’ve been ditching Rita’s for dinner, and he’s glad because these days he’s eating less and less when he’s in the House of Wind. Merrin takes him to little bistros he knows only by name. He brings her to fancy restaurants and she always laughs because they look so out-of-place with her in slinky, little dresses and with his lipstick-stained cheeks that the High Fae actually turn up their noses. She once ate a whole meal with her fingers to really push it, and they couldn’t kick them out because he’s a member of the Inner Circle. Things like that are why he likes her company. She’s so unconcerned about what other people think of her in the way that the rest of his family pretend they are. 

She’s a smart person. She understands that people assume things about the nature of their relationship, about her, and about him, even though they know nothing. More than once, she’s been called a whore, and, more than once, he’s scared someone shitless for it. And she doesn’t care. Not that she should be ashamed, but Azriel isn’t certain that Merrin ever feels shame for anything she does. Regret, maybe, but not humiliation. 

People, the ones whose opinions are worth listening to, like Merrin. She’s compassionate and generous and she can make even him roar with laughter. She isn’t those things because she wants approval for them, she just is. It’s so rare that he meets someone who has no ulterior motive, who speaks their mind and says what they want with no caveats.

Azriel can’t tell if he’s in love with her or if they’re just friends who fuck sometimes. If they’re really friends at all. He doesn’t know which of those things he even wants. He knows that he likes holding her hand. Likes the sound of her voice and that his heart stutters sometimes when she laughs. He could sit and listen to her go on tangents about anything and everything for hours on end. 

Her choice of dress tonight is driving him insane: the black velvet hugs her curves and it barely reaches her mid-thigh. Open at the back, the expanse of her smooth skin that he has dragged his hands down countless times teases him. He wants to pull at the curls in her hair.

When they’re in bed, he’s almost insatiable. He’ll stay between her thighs and do pretty much anything she asks of him. Seeing her flawless form when she punched that male earlier sent twitching heat racketing through him. But so does waking up to her making tea, wearing his shirt, humming to herself. 

It’s a lie that he isn’t happy. Here, on this random street in Velaris, with his head pounding and his legs not quite working as they should, in Merrin’s blissful presence, he’s happier than ever.

Maybe he does love her.

Would she have invited him back to her apartment just to sleep if all she wanted from him was sex?

Would it feel so normal to be with her, to recognise the scent of her even in a crowd of writhing bodies in a club, if he didn’t feel something for her? 

Is it strange that he sleeps better in bed with her curled into his side than he ever has in the townhouse? That she can chase away his bad dreams just by tightening her grip on his waist? That he hasn’t had anyone else because the thought of sleeping with another makes him feel ill?

He can’t figure it out and maybe doesn’t want to right now.

He squeezes her hand and drags her away from the stray, leading her down alleyways so they can get to the townhouse where she owns the top-floor apartment. The stairwell is in no way designed for Illyrians, so his wings scrape against the walls. She's pushing him up in front of her so he goes quicker and doesn’t have to endure the discomfort for so long. They’re definitely stamping about and waking her neighbours.

But they’ve undoubtedly done that before. He’s reminded of the time he carried her upstairs and didn’t wait until they were at her door before he pulled her underwear down. Merrin shamelessly moaned his name particularly loudly halfway up and complained in the morning that the female who lives below her might not cat-sit for her on account of disturbed sleep. He’d snickered. She smacked him in the arm.

Not tonight, he reminds himself. Tonight, they’re sleeping off whatever was in their drinks.

When her front door clicks shut behind them, he almost pins her against it and kisses her. It’s only her ducking under his arm and taking him to her bedroom by grabbing his shirt which stops him. He can kiss her in bed, he thinks. Not with any expectations. He just wants to.

“I think I lied earlier,” she says, pulling at the ties of her dress before he takes over for her wordlessly, letting her continue. “I am happy sometimes. I just don’t think I’m content. They’re different, right?” She peers over her shoulder at him when his fingers still at the small of her back, the dress starting to slip off her as he nears the final tie. 

“They are,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m content either.” Then he undoes the final tie and the dress falls to the floor in a heap of black velvet. She steps out of her stupidly high heels and kicks them towards the door. 

He’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that she’s left wearing nothing but lacy, black panties. He’s not thinking about the fact she’s topless as she disappears into the bathroom to clean off her makeup. He does not care that when she comes back and he’s lying on her bed in his underwear that she picks up his shirt and drapes it around herself to sleep in.

Instead of going to her side, Merrin climbs on top of him, her knees in the space between his hips and his wings, and he instinctively curls his arm around her to pull her down to him. She’s practically pinning him down with her arms braced against the pillow below his head. Despite the Autumn chill, she’s warm.

He gets his kiss. It’s tender, slow, and without heat. Her lips are soft and he lets her push her tongue in his mouth lazily. They’re uncoordinated and a little messy, but it’s fine, he doesn’t care because it’s her. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world, like all things have led to right here, right now, and he thinks that everything that’s happened to him has been worth it. When they separate, she presses chaste, wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw and makes him smile. 

“What would make you content, Az?” she asks quietly.

He could say lots of things, most of them he shouldn’t admit to because they’re both still drunk and it’s a bad idea to make serious decisions when your head feels like lead. 

But…

“Just—stay there,” he says, shaking the vulnerability from his tone, sliding his hands under the shirt and settling them at her hips. He refrains from toying with the waistband of her underwear.

Merrin kisses the crest of his brow and his cheekbones. “What?” she asks, smiling when he starts to blush. “For the whole night?” He hums confirmation. She whispers against his lips, “That would make you content?”

“If I wake up with you on top of me too.” The distance between them is closed. He runs his fingers along the back of her thigh while his other hand creeps up the dip of her spine, pulling her impossibly closer until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel how her nipples have pebbled through her—his—shirt. Of her own accord, she shifts her hips a little lower until she’s sitting on his pelvis, giving him just a hint of friction. He tuts and pulls away. “What happened to just sleeping, Merrin?”

They need to rest. At the same time, he also needs to know how wet she’ll be if he sinks a finger into her tight heat. She’s always so… reactive. Learning all her sensitive spots has been a lesson he never wants to finish. She isn’t shy about showing him. 

She catches his hand before he can satisfy his curiosity.

“Just reminding you of what we would be doing if we hadn’t drunk that last bottle of liqueur,” she says, shimmying even lower so she can rest her head on his chest, slotting her legs between his thighs. 

He sighs a laugh, his eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like I needed reminding.” When he rests his free hand on the back of her head, dipping his fingers into the fine hair at the top of her neck, he feels her melt against him and fully relax. He tugs the covers and pulls them over the both of them. “What would make you content?” he asks softly, letting himself sync his breathing with the rise and fall of her shoulders, with the soft puffs of air he can feel on his pectoral where his tattoos mingle with her flaring curls. Somehow, the sight of them doesn’t make him wince as often as it used to, but he sees them more these days. Merrin likes to trace the lines of ink in the mornings.

“I don’t know,” she says, “‘suppose we’ll find out if I feel the same as you when we wake up.”

He blames the drinking, but he hopes that she does.

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[girl-lostconnection]

Snow is soft under his hooves, quiet creaking of it disturbing otherwise peaceful night when König shifts his weight from one leg to another.

It’s a good night. A proper night.

One that gets darker and darker with each hour, stars shining in the sky, not even moon strong enough to disperse the darkness.

He’s been waiting for some time now to get her back in his hands.

Again his, again with him.

Yeah, it’s a good night. One when he can hold her again.

König can see the glimmer of lights down in the valley, sounds of singing groups going from house to house — people are celebrating.

König knows it’s not his territory. These are not his mountains.

Even if they were — he is not working tonight. It’s her time.

Her holiday.

Melody pours in the air, clear as a tear, paper mache stars turning and turning, being carried from house to house by laughing groups of teens and children.

This night is magic.

Malanka comes just after Christmas, bringing carols and rituals, bringing signs and omens.

Giggly and girlish, she’s every girl that asks to see her future spouse in a dream, she’s every mother feeding her family, she’s every child caroling.

Malanka is so much younger than he is but somehow so much stronger. Buzzing with excitement and full to the brim with wonder, she is pure magic.

Or maybe he’s just not used to being away from his Alps.

König hums the melody of recurring carol, tree branches moving with wind above him.

Rare person might see the way his horns touch the branches. Most would just look away, blame what they saw on the play of shadows and their own imagination.

They don’t know him here. They don’t believe in him here.

He’s tall and burly, wrapped in a coat made out of goat’s hide, wooden mask of a horrific grimace on his face, horns curling.

Anywhere else he’d stood out like a sore thumb. But here?

Here are dozens dressed just like him.

König shifts his weight, rolling his shoulders and crouches down, watching passer-biers.

Even crouching he’d be taller than these teens that fool out in the snow without a care in the world.

König is big.

Big omen. Big god. Big warning.

König huffs out air, vapour escaping his nose — white hot and ephemeral — child on the other side of the road gasping at the sight of him.

Yeah, children see him better than everyone else.

He comes for them after all. He is their god.

The kid is young, wrapped up in thick winter coat, bear’s mask tugs to the side of her face, scarf red and obviously made by someone who loves her — König can sense care in every hook of it.

She grins at him before scurrying off. It’s too cold outside for someone this small. Too dark.

König breathes in and out, tasting air — magic sweet on his tongue, coating it like sugary treat.

Not a naughty child.

She behaved well this year. Good.

König stands back up, stretching in his full height — throws a coin up in the air and watches it disappear with thin ding.

Maybe the kid will find it in her tiny boot in the morning. Maybe.

After all these are not his mountains and not his people. Who knows if it will work.

Night stretches out, dances around him like a velvet ribbon, crystal charms-snowflakes of it dingling in the air.

He knows it’s not his mountains.

He also knows that Malanka is willing to share.

You on the other hand know that until 6th of January he’s in full power.

It may be not his place, but it is his time.

Melody of the carol weaves itself through the air — clear and beautiful, voices getting louder.

König can practically taste it in the wind, can feel it coating him along with snow, soaking him in cheer.

He doesn’t know the words but he knows the meaning. It’s always the same no matter how many decades pass.

It’s always hope for the better.

Night is young, darkness pooling around him, his coat heavy with goat’s hides, and it’s almost peaceful. Almost good enough for him to fall asleep.

Voices boom louder, snapping him out of trance, making him shake snow off his coat, turning his head around.

But there are no one outside.

The streets are empty.

Carol gets louder and louder looming seemingly out of everywhere, melody filled with power and joy, until it goes down to just one voice.

Languages mix, words ever changing, magic thickening.

For a moment he can almost understand it.

For a moment he’s part of it.

But it slips through his fingers and out of his mind, leaving him grasping for more, foreign magic imprinting on the tips of his claws.

Steps right behind him making snow creak.

König doesn’t turn around staying just where he is. There is no one else who’d be able to come this close.

König will let her have her fun.

There’s dingling of the bells, carol circling around him, cheerful giggling getting closer.

She’s never in a rush, drunk on cherry liquor and her people’s love.

A well-fed god is a powerful god.

Her ribbons wrap around his arms and throat, get tangled in his furs, pull him back deeper in the woods. Lead him.

He lets her.

It’s her night after all.

“Вийди-вийди господарю,

Подивися на кошару”

The voice fills his ears, snow falling and falling, his coat more white than the usual dark — dusted with silver, frost painting incredible patterns over him.

“В тебе товар весь хороший

Будеш мати мірку грошей”, is now even closer, breath of winter sending shivers down his spine, everything in him thrilling — old magic feeding him.

She is feeding him.

“Хоч не гроші, то полова

В тебе жінка чорноброва“

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, bells at the tips of your goat horns swaying with the wind that’s picking up.

König doesn’t understand what it is you just breathed out, but whatever it was you seem awfully pleased.

Eyes shining and warm when you look at him, your ribbons soft on his skin.

You are different every time — tall and tiny, goat-headed and human, monstrous and impossibly beautiful.

You are winter and cheer, you are endings and hope.

You are the start of the start.

“Having fun, Schatz?”, König breathes out, head tilting so you can pull off his mask, runes on your face shining.

You are shining.

“Christmas is here, I’m bringing good cheer”, you muse practically in a sing-song, your eyes crinkling when he pulls you closer, perching on his forearm.

Your coat is big and warm, fur of it long and white, tickling his face a little. It was a beautiful goat before you started wearing it.

“Have you been good this year, meine Liebe?”, König is dusted with snow and heavy with furs, uncovered cheeks now pink from winter winds.

Instead of answering you kiss both of his cheeks, grin widening when he rumbles softy, tilting his head from side to side so you can do this again.

You are his favourite night.

You are his loveliest holiday.

“You look good”, praise slips off your tongue easily, vowels rolling with the remnants of your people’s language, carrying the memory of carols. Your carols.

“You feed me well”, he’s never this soft with anyone but you. Always with you.

König’s horns are heavy, that’s what he tells himself as he leans his head closer to yours, silently asking for another kiss.

Your lips press it to his forehead, smile warm against his skin.

It’s blissful for a fraction of a moment — perfect and sweet.

Then his whole body gets rocked with a shiver, warm foreign runes bleeding off your face onto him, wrapping around his horns.

A blessing.

“Merry Christmas, happy New Year and happy holidays”, you breath out — eyes shining and laughter bubbling.

Cheeky little thing. Filling him up, making him comfortable, making him stronger.

König presses his nose to your cheek for a moment, before he huffs air out — vapor hotter, his whole body uncurling, his horns (all three pairs) longer and hooves heavier — he’s taller now. Big enough to cover miles with a single step.

“Ready to go, Göttin?”

You grin, perched comfortably on his shoulder, bells on your horns singing in the air.

“Yeah, I’m done. We can go home”

König hums, turning around, shadows wrapping around his ankles, your ribbons tickling his cheeks.

It’s time to bring his pretty wife home. It’s time to celebrate properly.

“Then off we go, Schatz”

[riacte]

Been thinking about HC fan discussion shifting over the last few years to become more focused on individual creators, and I think the reduced prominence of the Recap could be a contributing factor?

Speaking from my own experience as having gotten into HC in Season 6 along with Grian, I started watching Recap from the S6 Day One video (I was already familiar with the concept thanks to Evo in a Nutshell, which was openly inspired by HC Recap, so it was easy for me to get into), and it was really formative for getting to know all the hermits and HC in general.

I think it ties into what you said about engaging with the server as a whole, because even if you don't watch every hermit, with Recap you get to learn their names, hear their voices, and get exposed to their personality, projects, interests, and running jokes. It presented HC as an interconnected community, where all the hermits came together to create a collective art piece (the server itself). That sense of community has always been one of my favourite things about HC tbh

Recap also made it much easier for me to get into new hermits throughout s6/s7, bc I was already loosely familiar with who they were and what they were doing, so I could jump in midway through their season, or watch a one-off episode, without being too lost!

Meanwhile, with lots of people getting into HC through Life Series (and likely not being exposed to Recap), I think it's easy for people to just... stick with people they already know? And I don't blame anyone for watching people they like (time/energy for videos is limited, and plenty of my favourites are in Life Series too), but it also feels bad to see the work of so many hermits go unappreciated in their own community, especially when there was more of an effort to include them in the past :(

We need a new wave of Recap appreciation posts I think

I think this is very true. Lots of people just regurgitate Life series povs to people asking on the Reddit who to watch when you could just do Recap and didn’t they make a whole flowchart of who to watch? (Outdated but still a useful reference)

Unironically we need to bring back 2021 level of propaganda. Like whole posts on Hermitcraft propaganda that introduce all the listed hermits and their uniqueness. Sure, everyone has preferences, but they brand themselves as a server, so we should also brand them as a server. I do find it realllyyyyy weird that this phenomenon got worse after HC9 when HC9 had TCG (includes all hermits and “quirks” about them) and Decked Out (huge event that involved many hermits, including non Lifers). The hermits are literally producing merch as a server. It’s a game that appreciates each of them. The audience loves TCG too so ?? ??????

Another thing is that for me, sometimes I feel like I’m yelling into the void with my posts so I end up in a circle of people who main the same people (since we interact and talk to each other) and I don’t have the energy to do more because again, yelling into the void sucks. So I’m also part of the “problem”.

[bitchinbarzal]

Choose Me | J Middleton

summary: you overhear something you shouldn’t and jake realises he can’t lose you over it.

-

The bar is packed, buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a big win. Jake is in the center of it all, surrounded by teammates and friends, his laugh carrying over the music. You had been standing near the bar, sipping a drink, when you heard his voice—clear as day, cutting through the noise like a slap to the face.

“Marriage? Nah, man. I don’t see the point. We’re good how we are.”

You freeze. The words slam into your chest with the force of a slapshot.

You turn to look at him, your stomach twisting as he claps his teammate on the back, completely unaware that his words just shattered something inside you.

You want to walk away, pretend you didn’t hear it, but the ache in your chest demands otherwise. So you step forward, heart pounding, and call his name.

Jake turns, still grinning—until he sees your face. His expression falters. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.” Your voice is steady, but barely.

He nods, sensing the shift in your mood, and follows you outside. The cold Minnesota air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat boiling inside you.

You round on him the second the door closes. “So, you don’t see the point?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Marriage, Jake. You don’t see the point in marrying me?”

His jaw tightens. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, I did.” You cross your arms, trying to keep your voice even, but the hurt seeps through. “Is that how you really feel?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t think marriage changes anything. We’re good, aren’t we?”

“Maybe you think that, but I don’t,” you snap. “I want to get married, Jake. I’ve always wanted that.”

His brow furrows. “Why? It’s just a piece of paper—”

“It’s not just a piece of paper to me!” Your voice breaks, and you shake your head. “It’s about commitment. It’s about choosing each other, every day, no matter what. It’s about knowing that we’re in this for life, that we’re building something real.”

His face twists in frustration. “You think I’m not committed to you? You think I don’t love you?”

You swallow hard. “I think you don’t want the same things I do. And if that’s the case… then what’s the point?”

His eyes widen, panic flickering across his face. “Wait, what are you saying?”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want to get married, then I don’t see a future here.”

“Baby, come on.” His voice is rough, desperate. “You’re really gonna walk away over this?”

You hate the way your body trembles, hate that you love him so much it physically hurts. But you can’t ignore this. You won’t settle.

“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want the same future as me.” The words taste like regret, but you say them anyway.

And then you walk away.

Jake doesn’t sleep that night.

Or the night after that.

Or the one after that.

Your absence is everywhere. The bed is too cold, too big. The apartment feels empty, hollow. He catches himself reaching for his phone too many times, only to remember you’re not his to call anymore.

And it wrecks him.

Because he was wrong. So goddamn wrong.

Losing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. Worse than any injury, any loss on the ice. And if marriage is what you need to feel secure, to feel loved, then he’s a goddamn idiot for ever making you think he wouldn’t give that to you.

He just needs to prove it to you.

It’s a week later when you step out of your building and nearly run into Jake.

Your breath catches. He looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, like he hasn’t been sleeping. But his eyes, stormy and desperate, are locked onto you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask cautiously.

“Fighting for you.” His voice is rough, and he exhales, pulling something from his pocket. Your heart nearly stops when you see the small velvet box in his hand.

Your lips part in shock. “Jake—”

“I fucked up,” he says, stepping closer. “I was scared. Not of commitment, not of you—just of the idea that I could lose you. But I already did, didn’t I?” His voice breaks. “And I can’t live like this. I can’t live without you.”

Tears blur your vision. “Jake—”

“You wanna get married?” He opens the box, revealing a ring. “Then let’s get married. Not because I have to, not because you’re making me—because I want to. Because if being your husband is what it takes to keep you, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

Your breath hitches. “Are you serious?”

He steps even closer, crowding into your space, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you more than anything. And I want a life with you. Whatever that looks like—married, kids, whatever. As long as it’s you.”

A sob escapes you, and suddenly, you’re in his arms. He holds you so tightly, like he’s terrified you’ll slip away again.

“You idiot,” you whisper against his chest. “You should’ve just said that in the first place.”

His laugh is shaky, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Just—tell me it’s not too late.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze, then glance at the ring in his hand. Your heart swells, aching and full.

And then you nod. “Ask me properly.”

His lips curve into a slow, relieved smile. He sinks to one knee, still holding your hand.

“Marry me?”

This time, there’s no hesitation.

“Yes”

[itsnesss]

𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬; minho moon ( series ) O2

pairing ; minho moon x female!reader

content ; fluff, romantic tension, angst, personal conflicts, rivalry, enemies to lovers

summary ; you never imagined your life would change so much with a simple exchange. in canada, everything was predictable, but when the chance to study in seoul came, you took it. you met minho. a tall, serious guy with a cold attitude who made you feel even more out of place. from the very beginning, you hated each other. every encounter was filled with disdainful looks and harsh words. your first meeting was so uncomfortable that all you wanted was to escape his indifference. but as time went on, you realized that minho wasn’t just an obstacle—he was the beginning of something unexpected. what started with hatred and a simple fall led to a connection that made you feel more alive than ever

status ; ongoing !!

— navigation ; OO1. OO2.

TWO ; P.S. People Often Judge

You walk towards the dormitory with a slight sense of frustration. There were no available rooms for you after talking to the director. When you arrive, the girls are already settled.

"Hey, Kitty," you say, trying to sound calm. "How are we going to organize ourselves for sleeping?"

Kitty, with a somewhat uncomfortable smile, looks up.

"Well, Yuri and Julianna decided to share a bed. So, you’ll sleep with me. At least you won’t have to sleep on the couch, right?" Kitty laughs, but there’s something in her tone that makes you think she’s not entirely comfortable with the situation.

You nod, relieved that you won’t have to sleep on the couch, but you can’t help but feel awkward.

That night, when everyone settles in to sleep, you move closer to Kitty.

"Kitty, has anything weird been going on with the girls?" you ask, bluntly.

Kitty looks at you, a little surprised by the question. She doesn’t know how to respond, but when she sees your expression, she knows you want to talk.

"A bit. I feel like there’s something uncomfortable, especially with Yuri and Julianna. They’re always... sticking together. It’s weird."

You nod, feeling a slight melancholy in your gaze.

"I try to keep myself busy so I’m not the third wheel." Kitty sighs. "But the truth is, I like Yuri, and I didn’t know how to tell her. I wrote a letter. But when I got here, she was already back with Julianna. It was a blow for me." Kitty laughs bitterly.

You look at her in silence. You didn’t expect such a personal revelation from Kitty, and it makes you feel a deeper connection to her. Kitty, always so extroverted, seems to be struggling with something much deeper.

"Wow, Kitty, I didn’t know…" you say, genuinely surprised.

Kitty smiles with a mix of sadness and gratitude.

"It’s not something I talk about much, but... well, thanks for listening." Kitty shifts a bit in bed, trying to get comfortable.

You nod, knowing that you understand more than she thinks. Despite the tension of the past hours, you feel closer to Kitty now.

The next day starts like any other, until you walk into the room where Mr. Moon’s project is going to take place. Kitty, as always, is with you, talking about anything to pass the time. However, before entering the room, you stop when you hear a conversation that makes you feel more distant than ever.

"I don’t like Stella that much," Minho says, with a casual attitude that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Kitty, surprised, asks with a teasing smile:

"Really? Doesn’t she appeal to you at all?"

Minho doesn’t beat around the bush:

"No, she doesn’t appeal to me. I saw her at the event, and there’s no chemistry. I don’t know, she’s just not my type." Minho shrugs indifferently. "What about you, though? How do you feel about Y/N?"

Your chest tightens when you hear your name. You can’t help it. The pain starts seeping into your chest.

Kitty responds with a nervous laugh:

"Well, yeah, Y/N is a good girl. I don’t understand why you’re asking, Minho."

Minho, with his usual tone, grimaces.

"I don’t know, I feel like something’s off about her. She doesn’t really convince me."

You freeze. It’s like you’ve been hit in the stomach. That’s the confirmation of something you already suspected. Minho doesn’t see you in a good light, and the discomfort you feel seems to be mutual. Without letting anyone see you, you turn away, your heart full of disappointment, and quickly walk off.

You walk briskly down the hall, not looking back. Minho’s words hit you like a wave, a cold pain slowly filtering into your chest. You don’t understand why he said it, why he made those assumptions about you when he doesn’t even know you well. What right did Minho have to say something like that? You think, your hands gripping the edges of your jacket as if you could erase the feeling of rejection that’s settled in your body.

At first, you try to ignore your own feelings, telling yourself it’s just a conversation without importance, something fleeting. But Minho’s words keep echoing in your head. He made assumptions without knowing you, and not only that, but he tried to sow doubt in Kitty. Why did he think he had the right to judge you?

The idea of going to the cafeteria seems like a useful distraction, so you head there to get something hot to drink.

When you arrive, you head to the coffee machine, hoping the smell of the brew can calm your anxiety. You take your drink in silence, watching as the other students chat and laugh, unaware of what’s going on in your head. You don’t want to think about Minho, but it’s impossible not to. The words he said about you, his assumptions about your life, all of it hurts.

With your drink in hand, you head to the Art Expression room. You don’t feel like socializing, but at least there you can focus on something different for a while. When you enter the classroom, you see Kitty, who is already sitting.

"Hi, Kitty," you say, dropping your backpack on the table before sitting down.

"Hey, Y/N! How’s it going?" Kitty responds, looking at you out of the corner of her eye but not pressing too much.

You sigh, preferring to leave the topic from the morning behind. But just as you’re about to say something else, Minho walks in. His presence fills the room immediately, as it always does. You tense up, and a thought quickly crosses your mind:

"It can’t be…"

Minho walks straight to his seat without even looking at you, but you already know it will be impossible to avoid any kind of interaction. The tension between you two has been in the air since the morning, and you feel it.

As if he hadn’t noticed the heavy atmosphere, Minho casts a mocking glance at you before speaking.

"Wow, what a coincidence. Seriously, can’t you sit somewhere else?" he says, looking at your seat with a mixture of annoyance and sarcasm.

Kitty, seeing the tension beginning to rise, quickly intervenes.

"Come on, guys. Can you stop fighting for five minutes? It’s not that serious," Kitty says, rolling her eyes and placing her hand in the center of the table, as if she’s some sort of mediator.

The atmosphere in the classroom becomes tense for a moment, but soon the door opens with force, interrupting the conversation. All the students turn to look at the entrance. The man who appears is tall, with a firm and elegant posture. It’s none other than Mr. Moon, Minho’s father, who is also the teacher in charge of the class. A murmur of surprise spreads across the room.

"Good morning, students," Mr. Moon greets in an authoritative voice. "Today we’re going to do something different. This isn’t just any class."

You and the rest of the students pay attention. What could he have in mind?

"Today we’ll determine who among you will earn a spot in the Advanced Voice program. We’ll also decide who we’ll cut off the mic as judges."

A feeling of excitement and nervousness fills the room. Some students seem excited, others tense. You, though somewhat surprised, can’t deny that the idea of participating in such an important event gives you a mix of anxiety and adrenaline.

"Each of you will present your performance, and I will be scoring. I’ve prepared a sheet with options for notes, so make sure you’re ready. Remember, it’s not just about talent; it’s about the connection you manage to convey. Trust your instincts," Mr. Moon adds.

You try to calm your nerves. You look at your sheet, quickly writing down some notes, before looking at the rest of the class. Minho, of course, seems completely confident, while Kitty can’t help but look at you with curiosity.

Finally, Mr. Moon begins to listen to each of the students. The room fills with singing, some more confident than others. You watch carefully, noticing how Minho, despite his arrogance, has a presence that draws attention. However, it’s not the only thing that stands out that morning.

At the end of the exercise, Mr. Moon begins announcing the results. Dae is the first to receive praise. Mr. Moon looks at him and says firmly:

"Dae has received unanimous approval. Well done!"

The class breaks into applause, and you can’t help but feel relieved for Dae, though your mind is preoccupied with what’s coming next.

Mr. Moon continues with the ratings until it’s Stella’s turn.

"Stella, I’m afraid I can’t accept your performance. Only one person voted for you... and that was the only one who agreed that your presentation had something to offer," Mr. Moon says with a neutral tone.

Stella stands in silence for a moment, looking at the other students before speaking.

"I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings," she says softly, referring to Minhee, who is in the same row.

Minho, who has been silent, can’t help but intervene.

"He’s hurtful to let someone with no talent think they have what it takes," Minho says with a cold look, making it clear that he doesn’t plan to soften his words.

You feel the anger starting to build inside you.

"And what do you know about what it takes?" you respond quickly, not thinking too much about your words. "Maybe the problem is that you think too highly of yourself to judge others without seeing what they really have."

Mr. Moon watches the interaction between the two before speaking again.

"Minho is right, in part. Sometimes the truth hurts, but it’s better to know it. We can’t let false talent take over something this important."

Annoyed but unwilling to let it go, you just looked at Minho one last time. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but something told you that your teacher’s words wouldn’t be the last word in the internal battle you felt toward him.

After a long and exhausting day, you finally returned to your dorm. The living room was empty; your roommates had gone to a gay club. A mix of relief and loneliness filled your chest. You had the whole place to yourself, with no interruptions. You decided to take advantage of the quiet to do homework and disconnect from everything that had happened.

Sitting at your desk, surrounded by books and papers, you slowly worked through your assignments while thinking about what had happened with Minho that morning. You felt exhausted, as if you were incapable of understanding everything that was going on. Despite trying to focus on your studies, your mind kept returning to him—the boy who had turned your life into chaos in such a short time.

When you finished your homework, you collapsed onto your bed, deciding to take a break. You grabbed a bowl of ice cream from the fridge and turned on the TV, looking for a romantic movie to help you forget, even for a little while, the tension you felt. You couldn't allow Minho to keep occupying so much space in your mind.

It was late, and your roommates still hadn’t returned, so you enjoyed the peacefulness of the room. However, something bothered you: Stella had gone out with Minho. What did he see in Stella? You didn’t understand. You couldn’t deny that you felt a little jealous, though you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself. What was Minho doing with a girl like Stella? It was hard to comprehend.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your phone vibrated. It was your sister. You decided to answer, hoping for some comfort in the call.

"Y/N? How’s everything going?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Hey, sis," you replied, relieved to hear her. "I’ve had a weird day. I’m here, doing homework, eating ice cream, and watching a movie… I don’t know, I’m just a little confused."

"Why?" she asked, noticing the tension in your voice.

You took a deep breath and told her everything you had been going through.

"I understand how you feel," your sister responded. "But remember, you can’t control what people do. You have to focus on yourself. That’s why you went all the way to Korea."

You weren’t sure if you felt better after the call, but at least you had a different perspective. You decided to go outside for a bit, get some fresh air, and clear your mind.

As you left your room and walked down the hallway, you ran into Minho. He was standing there as if he had been waiting to see you at that moment. You looked at him and, without being able to help it, frowned.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to control your tone, but your frustration was already evident.

As you walked toward the building’s corner, you heard footsteps. You looked up, and to your surprise, you came face to face with Minho.

"Seriously?" you said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to deal with him again, but there he was.

Minho looked at you with a cynical smile, almost as if he had been expecting this to happen.

"What’s wrong, Y/N? Were you hoping I wouldn’t find you here?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Without thinking twice, you immediately responded, showing all your disdain.

"And what do you want now, Minho? Keep making annoying comments and thinking you can tell me what to do?" You were fed up. There was no way you were going to tolerate more of his jokes and condescending attitude.

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly unaffected. His expression was full of arrogance.

"I’m just here to remind you that you’re not as special as you think, Y/N. Sometimes, you need to come down from that cloud you live on. You think you can control everything, but you can’t."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your composure. You stepped up to him quickly and gave him a shove, not caring what he thought.

"You know what? I’m so done with you, Minho. You’re full of assumptions, opinions I didn’t even ask for. Do you really think you have the right to talk to me like that? To make me feel like I’m beneath you?" your voice was tense and fierce.

Minho, unfazed by your shove, didn’t move an inch. He stood there, watching you with a mix of irritation and arrogance.

"You have a lot to learn, Y/N. Maybe not everyone is here to please you, did you know that?" he said, stepping closer, his voice laced with disdain.

You glared at him, your eyes burning with anger. You couldn’t believe you were standing there, letting him act like he had control of the situation.

"You know what?" you challenged, your tone sharp. "Enough. Do you still think you’re better than me just because you have some talent and people adore you? Well, don’t be mistaken, Minho—I have my own strengths, and I don’t need your approval."

Minho smirked, unfazed.

"I never said you needed my approval. I’m just making it clear that not everything revolves around you."

Without wanting to hear more, you turned around and walked quickly back to your dorm, leaving Minho behind. There was nothing else to discuss. Every word he said only fueled your hatred toward him. And you weren’t going to stop.

With your heart racing and your stomach in knots, you slammed the door shut as you entered your room, searching for the peace you so desperately needed. Why did Minho have to be like this? What did he want from you? The only thing you knew for sure was that the more you saw him, the more you hated him.

The day of the relay race competition arrived, and the atmosphere was filled with tension. Students lined up on the track, eager to prove their skills, but something was off. Q wasn’t among the runners.

"Where’s Q?" Kitty asked, her voice full of concern as she scanned the empty field. Dae and you looked around too, frowning.

"I don’t know…" Dae replied, glancing around as if expecting him to appear at any moment. "Where is he?!"

You sighed and crossed your arms, looking at the clock that marked the start time of the competition. Something wasn’t right. Q would never miss such an important race. Suddenly, an idea flashed through your mind, like a spark igniting a warning light.

"What if… Jin made him disappear so he couldn’t compete?" you murmured, causing Kitty to react with shock and anger.

"That would make total sense… He was at the bar with him all night, and Jin would totally do something like that, wouldn’t he?" Kitty said, eyeing the competition organizers.

"We can’t let it start, not without Q," Dae said, looking at you with concern. You nodded, already starting to plan a way to interfere.

"We need to act fast," you say with determination, feeling adrenaline rush through your body. Kitty gives you a quick glance before turning toward the track, her mind clearly working at full speed.

"You know what? I have an idea," she suddenly says, her tone filled with excitement. Before you can ask, you see her striding confidently toward a table where an organizer had left a microphone unattended.

Your eyes widen as she grabs it without hesitation and brings it to her mouth.

"Come on, everyone! Let’s cheer for the runners!" she exclaims with exaggerated enthusiasm.

But the silence that follows is deafening. Only a few murmurs ripple through the crowd, and though the discomfort is obvious, Kitty remains unfazed. Instead, she starts jumping, waving her arms as if that alone could ignite energy in the spectators.

"Come on, guys! Get excited, join in!" she insists, but all she gets in return are laughter and a few boos. The organizers, now visibly annoyed, approach her, signaling for her to leave the track.

"No, I’m not leaving!" she shouts, gripping the microphone stubbornly.

You take a deep breath, feeling desperation creeping in. They can't just kick her out, not after everything you've tried.

"I can’t believe I’m about to do this…" you mutter, closing your eyes for a second before moving toward her.

Without giving anyone time to react, you dramatically collapse to the ground.

The impact isn't too strong, but you force yourself to stay still. Instantly, the murmurs grow louder. You hear gasps, whispers of concern spreading through the crowd.

"What’s happening?" someone asks.

You sense Kitty’s presence close by.

"Help! Someone, please!" she shouts, her voice perfectly mimicking panic.

Rushed footsteps approach. You’d recognize that walk anywhere. Before you can react, Minho kneels beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/L/N, are you okay?" he asks, his voice carrying a mix of concern and amusement.

For a moment, you hesitate. Is he actually worried, or is he just enjoying watching you in this situation?

You crack one eye open slightly and murmur in a tired voice, "I’m trying to create a distraction, idiot."

The way he rolls his eyes and frowns almost makes you laugh, but you hold it in. He steps back, crossing his arms, though he doesn’t leave entirely.

Just as you start wondering if the plan is actually working, an eruption of cheers and applause sweeps through the crowd. Q comes sprinting onto the track, his figure instantly recognizable.

You spring to your feet, abandoning all pretense, and a triumphant smile spreads across your face as the students begin chanting his name.

"Q! Q! Q!"

You did it. Q is on the track. The race is about to begin.

But your joy fades quickly as the competition starts. Jin, with his usual confidence, surges ahead effortlessly, and even though Q gives it his all, it’s not enough. Jin crosses the finish line first, raising the trophy with his signature smug grin.

Your jaw tightens. After all that effort… Jin is still the winner.

"That was painful to watch," Dae comments with a nervous laugh beside you.

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation.

"At least we tried," Kitty says, giving you a knowing smile.

You nod slowly, because even though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, at least you did everything you could. And deep down, you know this isn’t over yet.

tags ; @snowyblossomsx @awhrin @rkivesfilm @dangelnleif

[flowery-mess]

THE FIRE WITHIN

chapter 1 (series masterlist)

Pairing: fire fighter Noah x female reader (Tess Monroe)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / fire / explosion / death /death of firefighters / description of dead fire fighters / complicated call / description of fire and explosion / being affected by the call / therapy / let me know of anything else!

Words: 3k

Author's note: Finally! I'm so excited for this! I know this chapter may come off as boring, because there's not really any interactiom between Noah and reader, but that will change in the one. I appreciate feedback in any form! Hope you like it♥️

Be aware you're reading this at your own decision, it contains sensitive topics, so please think twice before reading as I wouldn't want to cause anyone any discomfort while reading my work!

Hungry for action, determined to be the best. That’s how you could describe Lt. Noah Sebastian.

It was never his dream to be a firefighter, until he started the job. After high school, he didn’t have any direction in his life, until his buddy who joined the LA Fire department year earlier than Noah, told him about it.

Noah got into the academy, finished it as one of the best and got sent to a station 25.

He likes the life of a fire fighter. He works 24 hour shift, then has two days off. On those days off he usually goes to the gym, hangs out with his friends and then flirts with girls at his local bar. Because being a fire fighter is the ultimate pick up line, isn’t it.

If you’d ask his colleagues, they would say Noah is disciplined, but still a funny guy. He’s young, so he brings fresh air to the station. He’s full of jokes, making their shifts go by faster.

On calls he’s focused on the work that needs to be done. He follows orders, does his job properly and leaves every shift with gratitude that he can come home alive.

Noah lives alone in two room apartment just 20 minute drive from the station. His house is small, but it’s nice. He’s not big on decorations and stuff, but it’s cosy and home for him. He has made the bigger room into kitchen and living room area, the smaller one into his bedroom.

Noah drives black Range rover that he’s very proud and careful of, because he bought that car himself. His upbringing wasn’t bad, but not perfect. He’s an only child. His parents lived in LA long before he was born, but few years ago they decided to move somewhere more quiet. Noah stayed in his hometown with some money from his parents to take care of himself, he used the money to buy his apartment and then had to make money for himself. He bought the car with his and only his money and that’s why he’s so proud about getting it. His mom texts him like once a week to see if he’s doing okay and he calls his dad once a month to catch up on life, but that’s it. He's grateful for everything they’ve done for him but feels pretty much alone now.

So he really appreciates the fire department and guys on his shift, because they feel like a family. They joke together, play games or do make friendly pranks against each other, but when they’re on a call they know they have each other’s backs. They trust each other, because without trust you can’t do this job properly. So when they start doubting Noah’s trust on calls, that’s when things start to get a bit uncomfortable.

*40 days ago*

“Man I hope we can get more than 5 minutes of sleep.” Nick said when him and Noah entered their bunk.

“Don’t say shit like this or the exact opposite is gonna happen.”

“I hope not, I need to sleep.”

Nick is Noah’s best friend who got him into this job. They didn’t start at the same station, but Nick got sent to 25 just a few months ago.

Noah had to agree that tonight’s shift was a busy one. They had two car accidents, one house fire and two false alarms behind them. With only 5 more hours of their shift remaining, Nick and Noah laid in their beds and fell asleep from exhaustion. Little did they know the shift was not going to be over in 5 hours.

Just an hour of sleep later Noah, Nick and the rest of the shift were woken up by the alarm and announcement “Ladder 25, Engine 25, Aid car 25. Structure fire reported at Hoover street. Heavy fire and smoke visible on arrival. Possible hazardous materials on site. Evacuation in progress. Multiple alarms requested.”

“Fuck.” Nick was first to react as him and Noah made their way down to get into their vehicles and leave the station.

“Sounds big.” Noah responded before he started with his gear, putting it on, making sure he has everything he needs on him and then jumping in the back of big vehicle with “Ladder 25” on its side.

As they were approaching the site, they could already see and smell the smoke from streets away. Blue and red lights already at the place, the number of fire cars on site signalizing that it was a big call.

Everyone got to their job immediately, taking in captain’s orders.

Noah’s job on this call was to go inside and extinguish the fires on his way to the fire centre. One rule they always follow: fire fighter is never alone, they work in pairs. Noah’s colleague followed closely behind him as they run into the building.

Others were already running out to get a new oxygen tanks or with workers from the factory in their arms. When they entered the building, Noah already felt something was off. He couldn’t tell what, but something wasn’t right.

They followed instructions on where to go, extinguishing small fires along the way until they reached the big hall where they couldn’t see the other end, because of the smoke and fire.

“Fuck, this bitch is big.” Noah heard his mate and had to agree. He hadn’t seen fire like this before.

“Sebastian to Captain 25. Starting the attack now, requesting additional units. The fire’s big. Copy.” Noah said through his radio to update his captain who was outside giving orders.

They immediately started what they call “the attack” and tried to contain as much fire as possible. He saw Nick along with another Lieutenant run inside and start the same thing.

“Our tanks are running out Noah, we need to leave soon.” Noah just nodded his head and heard the familiar beeping of their tanks when they start to run out of oxygen.

They turned around and started running towards the exit. Once they were outside, they went to get a new tank and update the commander on the situation outside.

The fire didn’t seem to get any smaller when the two of them returned back inside and started the attack again. To Noah it felt like eternity. He was looking into the fire with hose in his hands, trying to find the source like if he could aim the hose at one particular spot and the fire would be over.

Noah’s concentration was interrupted by voice in his radio “Command to all units, there are gas tanks hidden under the main hall. Everyone get out. This is a high risk situation, I repeat evacuate, evacuate, evacute!”

That was the last thing Noah heard before loud explosion went off at the other side of the hall. He saw the fire lit up the whole way to the ceiling, the smoke extended and even through his mask he could smell the gasoline.

When the tanks blew up, the explosion was strong enough to lift fire fighters from the ground and threw them metres away from where they were standing. Noah only felt the ground vibrate and moved few steps back, but what he saw he will never forget.

For a moment after the explosion it was like if everything around him stopped, before going fully into motion again. Some of the guys stayed laying on the floor, some were moving and yelling from the pain and then guys like Noah, who were still capable of doing their job, ran to help those who couldn’t leave that hall on their own.

But not Noah. Noah stood still at the same place and watched everything happen in front of him. He saw the panic in everyone’s eyes. He saw Nick lifting another man in full gear and run towards the exit. He saw others checking pulses of those who were laying still and move to another when they realised the pulse was not there. He saw someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear anything.

He saw one of the older guys at his station laying on the ground, not moving. He saw his face, lifeless. It was like Noah was watching the worst they were warned about and trained to handle those situations. But all he could do was stand there and not move.

He was literally facing death in front of him and that was scary as fuck.

He felt someone’s hand grab his arm and drag him away from the spot he was standing at. He realised that the someone was leading a way out for them both, he knew he was alive, but didn’t feel like that.

When they reached the outside the panic didn’t stop, in fact the lights and ambulances and blood and bodies and injuries were even more chaotic than the scene inside.

Someone sat him on the ground and took his mask and helmet off and immediately got him on oxygen. Noah was like a robot, just nodding his head “yes” or “no” when asked questions, his eyes still following the chaos that went on.

It was like a switch inside his body when he realised he didn’t do anything to help inside. He stood up and tried to put his full gear on saying “I need to help them.” and “They’re still inside I need to get them.”

It took three people to stop him from running inside and it took one look at Nick who was sitting in an ambulance with a mask on his mouth that made Noah break down.

He fell to his knees and started crying. He felt overwhelmed by everything and everyone, he tried to protect his ears with his hands, but it still couldn’t stop the noise.

Nick saw his best friend and gathered all of his strength to get up and walk to him. Nick was fine, just smoke inhalation, but one look at him in that ambulance and thoughts of what could have happen to him just broke Noah.

“Hey Noah, it’s me.” Nick said when he knelt next to Noah and put his arm around him. “Just breathe, we’re okay.”

Nick continued to talk Noah through his break down and then helped him inside the same ambulance he was just a minutes ago to get checked up.

The fire was extinguished from inside by additional units, everyone who needed medical help was transferred to the hospital and coroner took care of bodies who lost their lifes as heroes on that call.

When Noah and his crew made it back to station it was already 3 hours after their shift ended. Crisis briefing was ordered at the beginning of their next shift.

Noah didn’t waste time with shower or changing into clean clothes, he started his car and took off.

---

When he came home he threw his bag on the floor and immediately went for the shower. He stood still under the shower for good 20 minutes before he broke down again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know those calls can happen, he just never really thought it would happen to him and his station. He wished he’d never come across death, but that’s impossible with his job.

He leaned his head on the shower wall and just let his emotions out.

He didn’t go to gym or reach out to anyone, he stayed in bed until it was time to go back to work again.

---

“Good morning everyone, thank you for coming today.” you said as you started the briefing at Station 25. You had the whole shift in the conference room sitting around big table. “My name is Theresa, but you can call me Tess. I’m therapist for the fire department and today I’ll lead this sitting. This here is my colleague, John.” you introduced yourself and John as positively as it was possible in that situation.

“We know things like this are not comfortable for everyone, so we’re not going to push anyone today. But it’s important to go over what happened and come to a conclusion you did everything you could.” John started the speech and you scanned the men sitting in front of you. Some of them were looking fine, mostly the older ones who have been through similar stuff before.

Your eyes couldn’t miss Noah. He was beautiful, you thought, until his eyes met yours. It was just for a second, because he moved his gaze to the ground, but even the second was all you needed to know that he was for sure not okay. He had dark circles under his eyes, so he probably didn’t sleep much since the call. His eyes screamed “tired” at you and his whole appearance just gave him away. But it wasn’t just him, few more guys seemed to have the same feelings like Noah did.

“I heard you lost your colleagues that night. I’m sorry, that is always the hardest part.” you saw wave of emotions go though the room after you said that. “How about we start with how was the shift before the last call. Anyone wants to tell me?”

There was a moment of silence, but one of the older guys broke it. “It was shit of day honestly. It was busy shift for all of us, I think I can speak for everyone that when we went to sleep before the last call we just really wished that the sleep is gonna be at least until the end of the shift.” and you saw few of them nod their heads in agreement, which was great start.

“Oh really? What were your other calls?” you asked.

Another man started talking “Just a regular calls I’d say, car accidents, but nothing serious. Then two false alarms which is always annoying, but one of them was in school, so we at least had some fun with the kids.”

As you and John navigated the discussion towards the last call, you noticed Noah and two other guys were not really present. When everyone was nodding or laughing along, they didn’t. But you knew those reactions are okay too, everyone handles their emotions differently.

When John finally asked about the call the mood in the room shifted, but everyone was still talking with you and John.

“It was horrible. I was not even inside when the explosion happened, but hearing it outside and not knowing what’s going on was scary.” was the first confession of feelings and then it was easier for everyone else to speak up.

“I saw him fly like two metres above the ground before he fell. I knew he’s not gonna make it when I saw his body on the ground. I didn’t want to go check on him, but I had to.” guy with a mustache talked about seeing one of his colleagues lose his life.

Those sessions don’t have particular time stop, unless there’s nothing more to talk about, you’re leading the discussion.

At the end you always ask everyone to promise you they don’t have anything else they need to talk about and that they know they did everything they could. Everyone always does, but you know not everyone means it. Just like you know Noah didn’t mean a single letter when he muttered ‘I’m okay.’ in the end.

“Captain I think it was mostly successful briefing, but keep an eye on them. You can call me or John anytime you need us.” you shook your hand with the captain and made your way to your car.

Before you left the station, you saw Noah cleaning the front of their Ladder and took that as a chance to speak to him.

“Hi. You don’t have to tell me anything, I know everyone handles their emotions differently. But I can see that you’re tired and maybe overwhelmed by the situation. Don’t be scared to reach out if you need.”

“Yeah whatever.” was Noah’s answer, but he still took your card and put it in his pocket.

------

But since the tragic call Noah couldn’t get back on track at the job. He felt better, but still not good enough to give his job 100%.

“That’s enough Sebastian. You’re going to see the department’s therapist or you’re on desk duty.”

“What?” Noah faced his captain next to the vehicle they just used to extinguish small garden fire.

“You’re not yourself since the call Noah, you need help.” Captain said as gentle as possible. He didn’t blame Noah for being affected by the call, but it was dangerous for him and for his crew.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t need any help.”

“You yelled at a kid today Noah.”

“But that was for his own safety.”

“Really? Didn’t have to anything with the gas bomb they had close to the fire? Or what about last week’s call to the clothes factory when you demanded to know if they have any gas or another explosive things in there? Or week before that when you went for safety check up and yelled at a woman for not having a fire system installed?”

Noah didn’t have any answer, because he knew all of his reactions were because he became extremely nervous after that call. He always hated when people didn’t think about their safety enough, but he never yelled at someone because of it.

“I want you to see a therapist or you’ll sit behind the desk. I want the first session this week and I want a paper that says you’re able to do the job while going to therapy. We’re short on people Noah I don’t want you to sit behind a desk and wait for months to have your papers signed, so please, help both you and me and do something.”

----

When Noah came home after that shift, he grabbed the small paper that was on his table since the briefing and texted you “Hi, are you free this week for a therapy?”

---

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

----

Tag list: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans

If you want to be tagged click here

[jinmindeulle]

vulnerable | k. mingyu, j. wonwoo (3)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 kim mingyu x fem!reader x jeon wonwoo

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff | friends-with-benefits!mingyu, neighbor-and-highschool-crush!wonwoo | you decided! wonwoo is your choice.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions about sex i guess?

mingyu is taking his time. wonwoo stays by your side.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

Your heart hurt. It really did.

But Wonwoo was right in front of you, and Mingyu had taken his damn time. You knew from a friend in common that his routine hadn’t changed much. He still met with his friends and attended his after-office get-togethers. He was doing fine.

But you weren’t. You opened his inactive chat at least six times a day. Sometimes you typed and erased, sometimes you just stared at it, hoping Mingyu started typing by the force of manifestation. It never happened.

“I can’t help but ask you, is everything alright?”

Ever since you got closer to Wonwoo, you would regularly visit each other. All it took was a minute-long walk from one corner of the first floor to the other. Now that he had a tiny and fluffy companion, you had more excuses to stop by when you got home from work.

“It’s complicated” you sighed, gently scratching the kitty’s neck.

“I like complicated” he chuckled, bringing his can of beer to his lips as he looked at you with attentive eyes.

“Well… I’ve got this friend who has been my best friend ever since college. We met when he banged on my dorm’s room at two in the morning because he was drunk and thought that was his dorm.” you giggled, reminiscing about that crazy first week as a college student. “He was everywhere I looked, and he seemed to like talking to me. We became close and he has been my rock for more than eight years. But last year, things changed a bit between us”

“You fell in love, right?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows rose.

“Kinda?” you shrugged, giving an awkward laugh “We started as friends with benefits, with some rules to follow. We could kiss and have sex. We could make it stop when one of us asked to. We banned jealousy and we were not exclusive…except-”

“You were being exclusive” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t see the problem, though. If you two were fine by how things were going…”

“He was not” you sighed, taking a sip of your can so you could continue the story with a little bit more courage “He asked me to start seeing other people so we could follow that stupid rule, and he explicitly said ‘I don’t want us to be a couple’”

Wonwoo seemed to be contemplating where the narrative was heading before he asked “But he still wanted to fuck you?”

“We were not having sex every time we met up — that was what bothered him the most, I guess. Not because of the act in itself, but because he felt we were practically a couple when he came over, cooked with me, and cuddled to sleep instead of being all over each other”

“So…”

“We fought and he finally came over to apologize. But now we’re in this weird position where he doesn’t know what he wants and I’m waiting for him as if I were Rapunzel trapped in a tower. He knows I don’t see him as a friend anymore. But I don’t want to lose him if he chooses to make this end” you looked down to your lap, eyes welling up. Wonwoo shifted from his side of the couch and scooted closer, hugging you with his right arm so you could place your head on the crook of his neck.    

“You won’t lose him. It might be weird at the beginning, yes. But he needs you as much as you need him. Do you think he is willing to cut ties with you if he doesn’t choose commitment?”

“I guess he’s not” you mumbled, taking in Wonwoo’s scent to calm down your hiccup. 

“If he is the one, and you are his one, there’s nothing to worry about,” his low and calm voice had a magical effect on you, and as you felt the vibrations of his voice through his neck, you began to soothe your worries “ If you still think he’s the one when he’s still not ready to treat you as his girlfriend, maybe time will eventually bring you two together. And if time doesn’t, then… I’m still gonna be here” 

“You are an angel” you mumbled, feeling your eyes heavy. 

“Only for you”

. . . . . . . . . .

Three weeks. Exactly twenty-one days had passed, and Mingyu was still nowhere to be seen, or heard of.

Day twenty-two was your limit. You had to make a decision, even if he hadn’t made up his mind yet. It was killing you to know that he could come and destroy everything you had built over eight years, and you would remain with a broken heart until he decided to either mend it or turn it into ashes. 

You had to prioritize yourself.

We need to talk.

It physically hurt to finally type and send the text instead of erasing it. Your heart started pounding and you thought that it was about to explode, expecting an answer that took three and a half hours to come. And after you read it, you regretted even having the thought of sending that text.

I’ve got plans.

Hot tears traveled down your cheeks, frozen in place, holding your phone close to your heart. Who was that person? Mingyu would never, could never.

And yet he could. He sent those eight years of precious, heartwarming moments to the trash. All those nights you had stayed awake to help him on his projects, while you could have been working on yours. All those events you had been his plus one to help ease his nervousness when you could have stayed at home to study for your postgraduate course. All those kisses that had felt so real, so caringly true. 

It was over.

Dinner is ready!

I don’t know if you are coming but if you are, you better hurry.

[Picture]

Homemade, just how you like it 😌

At first, you thought that there was no way you could go in that state. You were just going to ruin that Friday night for Wonwoo. 

But after you rubbed your last set of tears away, you took a look at yourself in the mirror and decided that it was not too bad. Wonwoo had seen you worse back then. Also, you needed him. More than anyone else.

Even more than Mingyu.

So you answered.

On my way!

And left your apartment.

“Hi! Oh… What did he do?” the concern in his eyes made yours flood up with tears once more.

“I think he dumped me? I don’t even know if that’s accurate to what happened”

“Come in” Wonwoo mumbled, taking your frame under his long arm and embracing you as soon as he closed the door behind him. “Let it out”

“But the pizza is turning cold” you cried, face buried in his collarbone as he held you close, ruining his shirt with tears. 

“We’ll reheat it later,” when he kissed your temple, you felt how your heartbeat got faster, and how relaxed your breathing turned out. His scent always had the effect of a tranquilizer on you, and you were beginning to feel it little by little, from head to toe “Wanna talk about it?”

“I just need to forget him” 

And you were determined to do it. 

Plus, Wonwoo was making it so easy for you.

When you felt that you had no more tears to shed, he led you to his sofa, and Bomi, his cute kitten, quickly rested himself comfortably on your lap. 

“He knows you’re sad” Wonwoo smiled as he came back from the kitchen, a wooden tray with the two yummy-looking pizzas on top.

“He’s too cute” You kept yourself busy petting Bomi as you waited for Wonwoo to bring the wine he had promised.

“Is it too out of place on my part to say ‘Cheers’?” the man asked, giving you your glass and extending his your way.

“You’re the only one I would allow to do that” you softly giggled, clinking his glass with yours “Cheers.”

“Cheers” he chuckled, looking at you in the eye. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Six days after your now ex-best friend/ex-friend-with-benefits cut you off, he decided it was the right time to reappear in your life. And you thanked whoever or whatever was above that Wonwoo was holding your hand from the other side of the table when the phone lit up with Mingyu’s notification.

“He’s back” you mumbled absentmindedly, taking the device with your other hand and reading the text aloud “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I’m ready to talk now”  

Wonwoo’s face fell.

“What…what will you say?”

You sighed, and the first thing your eyes landed on was your and Wonwoo’s intertwined fingers. He was caressing and holding them with so much care that your heart skipped a beat. You raised your gaze to his eyes and laid your heart before you, just for him. For the one who deserved it.

“I told him to take his time, and I must own up to that. However, I never said anything about waiting for him to decide. He will understand that my thoughts and my heart belong to someone else now. Even if it’s soon, even if it has just started. I mean it when I say that I want you. Hell, I have wanted you ever since I was twelve”

“Wh-what?” he squished your hand, and you had to giggle at his response.

“I might have taken a break from being in love with you a couple of years ago. But ever since you came back to my life, it has felt the same, Woo. You might have changed a little, yes, but your kindness, your responsibility, your sensibility, and sensitivity are still the same — I fell in love with you because of those traits of yours. Not to mention your handsomeness.” 

It felt right. Wonwoo felt right.

“Why didn’t you say something back then?” he looked cute in that state. He looked as confused as happy. 

“You were not as straightforward as you are now” you shook your head “Woo, you ran away from all those girls. How would I assume I had a chance?”

“You were the only one I would have stayed for” he mumbled, and your heart melted. “I’m sorry I never showed it to you. I was the one who assumed it was too obvious on my part”

When your phone lit up again, you decided it was time to let Mingyu know that you were not waiting for him. That you had a right to move on.

“Let me take care of this,” you said, moving to the corner of the table “Proceed with your drink, please” you smiled, softening at his expression. If he was a cartoon, a question mark would have appeared over his head.

You angled your phone and after a couple of shots, you were content with the outcome.

[Picture]

I’m the one who’s busy now. And for real. 

When you left the café hand in hand, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if Mingyu had reached out sometime earlier. 

Maybe, just maybe…

But he hadn’t, and you were truly happy with where your life had headed. Right across your door, Wonwoo appeared when you least expected him to. He was there to hold you, to caress you, to care for you — for your meals, for your sleep schedule, for your working hours. He was there when no one else had been. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” the reason for your many sleepless nights and enamored sighs during your teenage years asked, squishing your hand as he led you into your building’s elevator.

“You”

As the doors closed, Wonwoo wasted no time and pressed his lips to yours, gently cupping your face with his large but soft hands. You steadied yourself by gripping the sides of his black t-shirt, angling your head to let him have you. All of you.

His kiss felt even better than you had imagined all those years ago. He showed hunger and patience at the same time, he wanted to feel what he had missed for so long and also save it for later. 

“You’re amazing” he mumbled over your lips, a gentle smile on his face.

“You are”

“I’m too happy to argue right now.” he pecked your lips again, just in time to get out of the elevator. “But I might do it later”

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

epilogue: wonwoo as your boyfriend

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

part 1 | you decide... mingyu (2) or wonwoo (3)

please like and reblog!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Private Lessons

Rating: Teen and up Audiences

Warning: party theme...

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x !dancer reader

Fandom: Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: being a dancer has it's perks...

Credits to @muwapsturniolo and our dancing convo!

Madison always threw the best parties. She had this way of making everyone feel like a VIP, even if it was just a random Friday night at her house.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy in the room was electric. As one of her backup dancers, I was used to letting loose when we weren’t on stage. So when Sexyy Redd’s “SkeeYee” blasted through the speakers, my body moved instinctively.

I danced with the girls at first, laughing as we hyped each other up, our movements sharp and effortless from muscle memory. But then—just as I dropped low, rolling my hips to the beat—I felt someone behind me.

Chris.

I didn’t have to turn around to know. I could feel his presence, the way his hands hovered just close enough to make my skin tingle. He matched my movements seamlessly, his chest almost brushing my back.

Okay, so he could dance.

I smirked, pressing back just enough to test him.

Chris didn’t back down. Instead, his lips brushed my ear, voice low and teasing.

"Damn… I might need some private lessons."

I bit my lip, glancing over my shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but those blue eyes held something dangerous.

"Think you can keep up?" I shot back.

Chris just grinned. "Guess I’ll have to find out."

I nearly forgot about it. People say things at parties all the time. I didn’t expect him to follow through.

But then I checked my work schedule, and there it was:

New Private Lesson Booking: Chris Sturniolo.

This man actually signed up for a private dance lesson.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I texted Madison.

Me: "Your boy's brother really just booked a private dance lesson. What do I even do with him??"

Madison: "LMAO don’t play, he’s lowkey smooth. Have fun with that 😭"

I wasn’t gonna lie—I was intrigued.

Chris showed up wearing sweats, a loose hoodie, and that cocky little smirk that made my job a thousand times harder.

"You came prepared," I teased, arms crossed.

"Of course." He leaned against the mirror, tilting his head. "Gotta impress my instructor, right?"

I rolled my eyes, motioning for him to stand in front of me. "Alright, let’s see what we’re working with."

Chris mirrored my stance, waiting for direction. I stepped closer, placing my hands on his shoulders to adjust him.

"Relax," I murmured.

"You’re tellin’ me to relax?" He chuckled, shifting his weight. "Kinda hard when you’re all up in my space like this."

I smirked. "You did ask for private lessons."

"Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be this hands-on." His voice dropped slightly, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

I raised a brow. "You scared, Sturniolo?"

Chris scoffed. "Nah. Just wondering how long it’ll take before you admit you like me touching you."

Oh.

My stomach flipped, but I refused to let him win that easily.

"Focus," I said, stepping back before he could see the effect he had on me. "We’re starting with basics."

For the next hour, I walked him through body rolls, footwork, and rhythm control. He wasn’t bad—actually, he picked things up pretty fast.

Every now and then, though, he’d find a way to get under my skin.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked at one point, purposefully messing up just so I’d correct him.

I sighed, stepping behind him. "No, your stance is too stiff. Here—" I placed my hands on his waist, guiding his movements.

Chris turned his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to touch me?"

I huffed a laugh. "You’re so annoying."

"You love it."

I didn’t answer.

Because, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

Chris stretched his arms, rolling out his shoulders. "Not bad for a first-timer, huh?"

"You did alright," I admitted, trying to sound unimpressed.

He smirked. "You gonna reward me for my hard work?"

I raised a brow. "And what exactly do you want as a reward?"

Chris stepped closer, tilting his head. "Dunno. Maybe another dance?" His voice dropped. "Or… you could just admit you like having me around."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"Probably not," he said, grinning. "But I’d love to hear you say it anyway."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Fine. You’re not the worst student I’ve ever had."

Chris clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow. So heartfelt."

"Take it or leave it, Sturniolo."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I’m taking it. But don’t worry, instructor—this isn’t the last time you’ll see me."

Something told me he was right.

And for some reason… I didn’t mind one bit.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[ominium]

do i look like him?

character : geto s. context : suguru want satoru but satoru not there >:(  pov : second (you bruh) content : angst no comf :( never comfort :( also written with lyrics/song-based (some verses are skipped) + one (1) curse word

note(s) : got flooded with ‘like him’ edits (tyler, the creator), so here you go. also i’m alive soz for not posting >.< ++ not edited, if there's a part that looks confusing buh! +++ i know 'like him' is abt tyler's relationship with his dad...i'm taking the lyrics very face value here

—

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost 

Every morning, you woke up in the estate to an empty bed. Stretching your limbs, you get ready for the day to do what you did yesterday: walk around, and be a trophy. 

I don’t know who he is

Some days, you would stroll around the garden, counting each blooming flower for the millionth time. Others, making small talk with the people.

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost

On a good day, you would get to share a conversation–maybe even a meal–with Suguru, who always seemed busy with his ‘cause.’ Most of the time, though, you seldom even get to see him: always going to bed alone, always waking up alone.

I don’t know where he is

One thing you did notice, however, is the interesting amount of photos littered around the estate: almost none. You had taken some with your beloved partner, but you’ve only ever seen them as your own background…and you weren’t allowed to take a peek at his device. 

Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost

“Hey, I need to talk to the people tonight. Can you join me?” Suguru asked, taking another spoonful of his soup. You ponder, staring down into your untouched bowl. The both of you know that you have no plans…you never do. So why the hesitation?

“Alright. I will see you then.”

Do I look…

At the event that night, you sat next to Suguru at the main table, nodding and clapping along as you needed to during his speech. Eloquent words spewed from his mouth, seemingly filled with passion and raw emotion; emotions that you wished could reach you again. 

At some point, Suguru had wandered away from the table to share conversations–most likely with the top financial supporters. All you could do was watch from afar, sipping your lukewarm tea every now and then. People-watching wasn’t new to you, and being a trophy partner certainly wasn’t new at all during events like these. 

As you looked around, analyzing each attendee, your eyes fell to a shine to your side. With widened eyes, you dare to keep a straight face while staring down at the cell phone. ‘He’s never left it unattended…’ Your thought trails off, eyes wandering out to find him. 

With his attention completely focused on a large group of people, the urge starts to creep up, stubborn to breach your mind. You trusted Suguru, right? You followed him out here because of your trust, right? Because he cared for you just as you cared for him?

You wouldn’t look through your partner's phone out of distrust, right?

Slowly, your thoughts shifted to self-manipulation: it’s perfectly fine to look through your partner’s phone on a whim–out of, say, boredom. You knew of the trust between the two of you, so it wouldn’t have mattered if you looked through his phone or not…even if you’ve never done it before. 

(Like what?)

You grasp the device, palms getting clammy…the device feeling heavy. Is this right?

Like him 

You look back up to make sure he hasn’t moved. Why would you check though? Why did you check? You shake the thoughts out of your mind, looking back down at his phone. 

I would never ever lie to you

Clicking the power button, your eyes stare dead into the screen. Your first instinct was to move to Suguru, who filled up half of the screen. He looked as beautiful as he was right now, his long hair tied back, an unfamiliar yet natural smile adorning his face. The tiniest smile crept up onto you, seeing what you thought was a great look on him.

You ain’t ever gotta lie to me

I’m everything that I’ve strived to be

Your smile finally falters to near-horror seeing not you, but a white-haired man sharing a similar grin. A feeling of confusion, realization, grief, and despair swirls around you all at once. 

It was Gojo Satoru. Gojo. Fucking. Satoru. Your eyes widened more, staring at the picture as a whole. It was a selfie of the two of them, looking happy, as if the world wasn’t going to tear them apart. It was taken before that mission.

It was taken when Suguru was happy. 

So do I look like him?

As you put away the phone in haste, your eyes wander back to Suguru, who had moved on to another group of people. How long has he been like this? How long had Gojo been at the forefront of Suguru’s mind?

Was what Suguru felt to you real?...or did he just replace who he couldn’t have to someone he could.

Do I look like him?

Your mind wanders back to the garden, lined with the blue Forget-Me-Nots and white Lilies. You think back to every meal shared…they, ironically, always fell on the same day of every month: the 7th. You think back to last December, reminiscing about the more-extravagant dinner that he had set up. “It’s to celebrate Christmas early, honey. You know I get busy around that time.” You think about all the other 7th of the months you had eaten with him. “I just had free time today.” “The world seemed a bit brighter today.” “It was a striking blue, with a few of the whitest clouds I’ve ever seen.”

It all made sense now.

(Like him, like him, like him, like him)

You stare at Suguru with despair, frustration…disappointment. He was happily chatting away, unbeknownst to the new knowledge you’ve uncovered. Each passing second, you think back to every speck of affection he had shown you. The bouts of doubt that he would erase with one caress, one hug. 

The candy bowl that was never empty.

The assortment of cakes you were able to eat wherever, whenever.

The signs. They were there. They were always there.

I don’t look like him

The evening was over…to you, at least. With the music seeming to not end, the conversations not dying, you decided it was best there and then to leave. To escape.

There was no point in finding reason. There was no need to put in the effort to understand. What was missing? What could’ve fixed it all? That it was all just a mere coincidence?

You left the event hall, each stride heavier than the last. Your mind was foggy, but you knew one thing: you wouldn’t sleep until you got away.

(Like him)

[anjeliquesworld]

ABC hc for Kageo or Nathaniel pls😞 take your time! I dont really see much writers for killer peter💔

Nathaniel ABC headcanon

Note: Im finally back and I've passed my exam I'm so happy y'all 😭Btw i'm also planning on uploading Kageo,Johann and Kim Soongu versions. As always hope you enjoy it✨

Cw: slightly nsfw,sadism

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

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

A - Attention: Once Nathaniel has decided someone is "his," he would be impossible to escape from. Nathaniel’s idea of affection isn’t about giving space—it’s about keeping you close, always. You'd find yourself constantly in his presence, whether you wanted to be or not, and it might feel suffocating at times.Nathaniel’s way of loving you is intense, fiery, and unwavering.

B - Baths together: A relaxing bath together is one of Nathaniel's favorite ways to unwind after a long, stressful day. The intimacy of the warm water, combined with the closeness, allows him to be tender without the weight of his usual intensity. He loves the way your skin feels against his, the subtle way you two press together under the water, and the rare, gentle moments of quiet he can share with you

C - Candlelit dinners: Nathaniel adores planning candlelit dinners at home. It’s a chance for him to show you his softer side, where he can take care of you, cooking a healthy meal and showering you with romantic attention. The dim light, the soft music, and the warm atmosphere enchanting your beautiful face as he adores you.

D - Darkness: Nathaniel’s soul is haunted by darkness. It’s not just his profession, but also his personal demons that keep him from truly feeling at peace. His mind often goes to darker places, and he finds comfort in that darkness rather than seeking light.

E - Experiments: Nathaniel’s curiosity about life extends to dark experiments. He has a twisted obsession with the idea of improving human anatomy and testing the limits of the human body. He’s often caught sneaking away to perform experiments in secret, under the guise of research.

F- Fragility: He's surprisingly fragile when it comes to his younger patients.Nathaniel's love for children is beyond evident. He goes out of his way to make sure every child feels special and safe in his presence. Whether it's a patient who needs a check-up or just a quick visit, he has a special bond with them that transcends his professional role. His nurturing side is often seen in the way he interacts with every child.

G - Grumpy, but not to you: Nathaniel tends to be grumpy, especially when things aren’t going well. He can get snappy or irritated, but he reserves the softer side of himself just for you. When you're around, his grumpiness takes a backseat as he focuses on keeping you safe and happy. He might sulk or scowl, but he’s always attentive when you need him. You’re his exception.

I - Intellectual Pursuits: Nathaniel has a deep love for intellectual challenges. Whether it's reading philosophical works, solving complex puzzles, or researching obscure topics, he thrives on expanding his knowledge. One of his favorite hobbies is collecting rare medical texts and old anatomy books, appreciating the beauty in the history of science. He often gets lost in thought, dissecting concepts and theories, which sometimes leads to long, quiet nights of study. He also enjoys challenging you to debates or intellectual games, seeing it as a way to bond and sharpen each other’s minds.

J -Jealousy: Nathaniel’s jealousy is like a quiet storm, building slowly beneath the surface. At first, it doesn’t reveal itself with loud outbursts or obvious signs—he’s too composed for that. His patience thins, and he’s quicker to dismiss the things that don’t align with his expectations. He’ll test your loyalty, subtly pushing boundaries just to see how far you’ll go, even though he never openly admits it. And when you finally notice the shift, he’ll feign indifference, acting like nothing’s wrong—though beneath it all, he’s silently aching, craving the attention he feels slipping away.

L - Loyalty: Nathaniel’s loyalty is not unconditional. It’s based on whether his lover proves worthy of his attention and dominance. If he feels betrayed or disrespected, he has no qualms about showing just how vengeful and cold he can be. You would need to earn his trust, but once you do, Nathaniel’s loyalty is hard to break. It’s just… on his terms.

M - Master of Chess: Nathaniel enjoys playing chess, often using it as a metaphor for his twisted relationships with others. Every move is calculated, a mind game, a strategy to manipulate and control. He never plays for fun—it's always a way to exercise his intellect and control.

N - NSFW : Nathaniel would definitely enjoy a pet/master dynamic when it comes to intimate time. He would expect you to be obedient, submissive, and ready to follow his every command.He would treat you like a prized possession, and Nathaniel would relish in the control he has over you. He’s not kind, but he is always watching, always guiding, and always taking charge.

O- Ornate Jewelry: Nathaniel has a fondness for giving you intricate, one-of-a-kind jewelry. He loves to choose pieces that symbolize something meaningful between you two—these pieces are always carefully selected, reflecting your taste and style.He may not be overly expressive with words, but his gifts speak volumes: they carry deep meaning and obviously a sense of ownership.

P - Pain as Pleasure: For Nathaniel, pain and pleasure are intimately linked. He enjoys seeing you squirm—whether it’s from emotional pain, physical discomfort, or fear. He doesn’t take pleasure in meaningless cruelty; rather, he views it as a form of connection, a way of asserting his dominance and maintaining control. His sadistic tendencies are never random—they are a way for him to gauge your commitment and test your loyalty.

Q-Quite aftercare: He would be someone who would take aftercare seriously, focusing on emotional reassurance and support.He would bring you something to drink, gently caressing you hair as he tells you how well you did,how good you were for him.He values your well-being because he understands how intense and overwhelming your encounters can be for your body.

R - Rope Play: Nathaniel has a particular fascination with bondage, especially when it comes to using rope in creative ways to restrain you. He enjoys the process of tying you up, making sure the ropes are tight yet comfortable, and watching as you--all flustered and needy--surrenders to the control he has over you.

S - Sadism: To Nathaniel sadism it's a deeply rooted need to exert control, to bend others to his will, and to experience the twisted pleasure of seeing them suffer in both body and spirit.For Nathaniel, the pleasure lies in the imbalance of power, the unspoken agreement that his pleasure comes from your obedience, your pain, and your compliance with his rules. In his eyes, this dynamic brings clarity and purpose to the world around him—a world where he is always in control.

T - Teddy Bear in disguise: Though he’s often tough and unapproachable, Nathaniel has rare moments of pure softness.He might let his fingers trace your face as you sleep, his eyes softening when you smile at him. In those rare, tender moments behind the cold exterior, there’s someone who feels deeply, though he won’t say it. Instead, his affection will show in the gentleness of his touch, his eyes lingering longer than usual.

U - Underground Music: Nathaniel has an interest in obscure, underground music—especially genres with dark or melancholic undertones. He enjoys listening to lesser-known bands or artists who blend experimental sounds, industrial beats, and haunting melodies. When he’s in his private space, he often plays this music to match the mood of his thoughts, finding solace in the eerie tones.

V - Vintage collection: Despite his busy life as a doctor, Nathaniel has a love for reading, particularly historical fiction and children’s books. He often reads fairy tales or gentle stories to the kids in his care, both to calm them and to teach them important lessons about kindness and resilience. He even has a small collection of vintage children’s books in his office.

W - Water: Nathaniel finds peace in water—He often spends time near water when he needs to recharge, as it gives him a sense of balance and tranquility. It's his personal form of meditation, something he can’t quite explain but always turns to when he needs to think.

Y - Yearning for More Time Together: Though Nathaniel might not show it, he yearns for every moment he can spend with you. When you're apart, he’s already counting down the moments until he can see you again.But that's his personal secret.His quiet longing only strengthens the love he feels for you.

Z - Zero Tolerance for Failure: Nathaniel has no patience for failure — either in his medical work or his personal endeavors. If an experiment fails or a patient doesn’t meet his expectations, he can become unreasonably cold and ruthless, seeing it as a personal affront to his superiority.

.

.

.

.

.

-------------------------------------------------------🎀