#those p much cancel each other out :///

[theorist-fox]

Takes practice

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposting from AO3.

Part 1 >> Part 2

In my feel-good romance era. Usually more of a slap me pull my hair touch me there, there, there - no more talking. But not today. No SIR.

The bit regarding the satellite phones and telemarketers was inspired by the first chapters of Shadowed by Tarajanee. Absolutely adore that work and I thought those scenes at the beginning were lovely!

Word count: 13k

Summary: Simon is deployed for the first time since the beginning of your relationship. Instead of finding purpose in keeping the world clean, he finds it in keeping himself alive, because he's never been this eager to come home.

18+

CW: smut!!! dry humping, mutual masturbation, thigh fucking, P in V. Fluff, this is very fluffy. Soft Simon Riley, Simon is absolutely fucking whipped. Self-deprecating thoughts, intrusive thoughts, angst if you squint so don't squint and you'll only get yearning and love making.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon doesn’t remember your eyes.

He’s been clawing at his face, both literally and metaphorically, because each time he closes his eyelids to succumb to exhaustion, he sees your face.

And you’re pretty. So much. He envisions the curve of your smile and how your lips part to give way to your teeth. The lines at the corners that scrunch your nose and how it flushes when it’s too cold out. He has memorized the shape of your brows for every expression. Knows the line of your cheekbones and how they swell under your eyes when you smile.

Your face is lovely, even when he conjures it in his head. But when your form breaks through the mist, he gets startled every time. Because he can’t see your eyes.

It's like a mock picture of you. A mimicry gone bad. You’re there, fresh and real, whispering sweet words to him, tossing a quip, or moaning breathlessly as he remembers the way he’s fucked you, but your eyes are carved out. Blank spots instead of the windows to your soul, like everyone always seems to chatter about.

Sure, he remembers the shape of your eyes, and if he takes deep breaths, cancels out Johnny’s blabber blaring from his cot, and enters a deep meditative state, he might be able to draw their outline.

But it’s the shade he misses. Are they sapphire, dark, and cryptic? Or frostbite blues. Emerald, maybe. He ponders, but he’s not sure. Brown, like his? Chocolate, with swirling hazels like golden speckles. Stormy grey. Charcoal black. Amber. Gold. Fucking crimson.

He doesn’t know.

But it's only been three months since he left.

And it’s been six months since Simon has taken you on his bed and fucked his name into you. Six months since he’s finally tasted your skin and imprinted your flavor on his tongue. 

It’s your fault, he thinks, if now everything he eats tastes bland. Nothing sweeter than the salt of you. The dichotomy is not lost on him. He’s a rational man, and figures easily that skin can't be sweet, especially not after he made you sweat by pounding you into the mattress. Yet he might have lost a marble or two after that, because now not even honey can compare.

Which is why he’s moved his things in your room. Just because it’s bigger, he told you. No other reason, really.  

Fucking liar. 

But again, you’re as saccharine as you taste. And maybe not as naïve as he thinks. Because ever since that night, six months ago, your hands often intertwine with his own when you guide him to bed – your bed. 

And that’s how he found a nightstand full of his things on the side closer to the doorway of the room. There’s the book you’ve lent him and a re-filled plastic bottle of water right next to it, one that he should probably throw away like you constantly tell him. Something about microplastics, but fuck if he knows. Because ever since that night, he’s lost a bit of his logic, a lot more of his sanity: you can speak for hours on end and he wouldn’t hear a damn thing if not for how your voice vibrates against his eardrums, sending tingles down his spine. 

Surreptitiously, his things have started to appear in your room. He doesn’t have much, a phew photos of his family are shuffled with your trinkets. Plain, white frames stuffed in between your smiles on pictures you’ve taken with friends. 

A frame of his medals, the ones you insisted he kept, nailed to the wall next to your PhD certificate. 

Tidy, onyx wardrobe polluted with pinks and greens. Breathable cotton and faux furs. Fuzzy fabrics that leave a rainbow of synthetic hairs on his clothes. He doesn’t bother to pluck them off, it’s just another piece of you he’s lucky to carry around.

His old bedroom turns into a storage room. Filled with boxes of forgotten things and broken appliances you can’t be bothered to fix. 

And he promises to tinker a little with the vacuum, so you won’t have to spend money on a new one and use your savings for your guilty pleasures. That book you saw when you went out together for groceries? Consider it yours. The cooking classes you wanted to attend at that restaurant you’re always raging about? He’s already bought you a pristine new apron. 

And maybe he’ll take you there, too. Ask for a more secluded table where he can still spot the door, so he can also uncoil the muscles of his back and use his eyes only to look at you, instead of having them dart around for dangers.

But fuck, he can’t do any of that now. 

It’s his first mission after that night, six months ago, and Simon is already feeling withdrawal symptoms. You’re worse than morphine on a dying man; you leave him aching for something he knows he can have because you're so obviously there, but he’s so stupidly far away.

And he can’t even tell you where he is. Can’t even give you some peace of mind. Can barely call you, because Johnny’s been hogging the satellite phone to talk to Lord-knows-who.

The Scot is not selfish, Simon knows he would only have to ask, and the bulky device would practically materialize in his hand. But Simon also knows that if he dared, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Because in the years spent in the task force, he’s never needed to call anyone. 

Can’t call the dead, now, can you? 

And now, popping a question like that would only raise suspicions. It would have his mates up his arse until his head would split in half.

But it’s been six months since that night. Three months since he left. 

And that pocket of time he’s managed to spend with you, uninterrupted, almost made him accustomed to civilian life. To the lack of his mask and the AC of the flat breezing against his face. The taste of homecooked meals. The constant presence of another soul (a beautiful one at that) in his same space. 

With you, he’s never parched – of anything. You feed him mind, heart and body, showering him with that innocent love you so easily dispense, allowing him to bathe in it. 

He’d listen to your never-ending chat for days. His mind has always roared with sounds, yet the more noise you make the more you silence it. Baffling, really, how he’s spent his whole life looking for quiet and found it in the loudest person on earth.

He’s always sated with your kisses, your words, your quick mind and razor-sharp wit, your moans and your mewls, and God, anything you were willing to give. Your lips, your spit, the juices he makes you drip, and the ones he makes you spray. He dreams of cupping your clit with his mouth as he ravages your cunt with two thick fingers until you’re splashing on his tongue. He’d drink you dry, if you’d let him. 

And oh, you have. 

There’s  the wonderful catch. These are not wishes; these are memories. Too real and fresh ones for them to be just another one of his daydreams.

Finally, after three months of pondering – or better, yearning – he realizes that every skin-prickling migraine his mates would induce is worth the sweet, sweet sound of your voice.

He’s disgustingly sweaty. He tugs at the lip of his collar and grimaces when he feels the cotton unstick from the dampness on his chest. 

Johnny's sitting idly, enjoying the few days of break from mayhem. Just a handful of hours allowed, really, enough to get them back on their feet – tactical planning, refill of their resources. Boring shite like that. But at least it’s a breather all right.

“Got the phone, Johnny?” He grumbles.

And Johnny would love to act as none the wiser, but his eyes peek from behind the sketchbook he holds in his hand. The smirk that curls at his lips has Simon roll his eyes. 

He makes a beckoning gesture with his fingers, giving him a pointed look. “Johnny.”

“L.T.” He responds in kind. “Callin’ the landlord?”

Simon levels him with a deadpan look that could freeze the desert they’re stuck in. “Sergeant.”

Bastard’s too cunning for his own good.

Johnny drops the sketchbook immediately, showing the lieutenant his palms in defense. The cheeky bastard that he is doesn’t manage to conceal the absolute fascination in his eyes. He’s studying his superior as if he’s staring at another species.

And Simon doesn’t blame him. He’s like a sock that’s been turned inside out, the negative image of himself. All that gloomy energy turned blinding light, ever since he’s had a taste of what life could be with you in it.

But alas, no one wants to have the Ghost up their arse, so Johnny looks around the messy area around his cot and plucks the girthy satellite phone out of it.

Simon picks it up by pinching the tiny antenna on its side. It prompts Johnny’s smirk to broaden. 

“Haven’t done anythin’ with it.” He quips, letting it hang in the air for a second longer. “Or have I.”

Simon grunts a noise of disgust. “Spare me.”

He finds a secluded spot in the area they're occupying. There's nothing around them but the rubble of a city that has been torn by war and time. The sight is dour, and the silence echoes a dark past he hasn’t witnessed. Even so, the remains of the buildings are tall enough to offer their lot some cover. 

He slides with his back against a wall, knees spread wide. 

He knows your number by heart, his thumb presses each button with newfound resolve. Only when he brings the phone to his ear, does his determination falter. Because he hasn't contacted you in any way, shape, or form for three months. So, what if you’re livid, now? You’d have every right. He’d understand if you’d rip him a new one through the receiver. He just hopes you didn’t spend these days rethinking your choices. 

God, you’ve infected him with this overthinking bullshit.

“Hello?” Your voice breaks through the fog in his brain, like a hand wiping mist from glass, and his own breath threatens to choke him. He’s speechless for a moment, forgetting how to function properly.

Just your voice has sent his mind into overdrive - burnt his synapses to ashes. 

He reckons he’s completely fucked.

“Hello?” You repeat, sounding a little more annoyed. 

You grumble something about telemarketers having lost the decency to call at a reasonable hour. And when he doesn't answer again, he hears you sigh. Your voice gets all clinical, then, as if you were trained to repeat the same script over and over. “Listen, if you’re trying to sell me somethin’, my husband’s not home – he takes care of that stuff.”

He snorts.

“Your husband?”

Silence.

There’s a sort of shifting sound, he gathers you might have removed the phone from your ear and checked for the number on the screen. He can practically see your eyes squinting at the phone.

He hears you gasp, and he hints at a smile. Fucking hell, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s done that.

“Simon?” You venture.

“Hello, love.” 

You squeal, and he pulls the phone away from his ear with a grimace. But he’s tired of lying to himself – his heart is soaring. 

"Christ. Made my ears ring," he deadpans.

You chuckle, sighing afterward, as if a weight has been lifted from your chest. God, you’re a dream to listen to. If only he could also look at your face right now, just bask in the way your smile would light up the room. 

“Serves you right,” you chide him, as if that could ever be a punishment. “Could’ve called a little earlier than three months in. Was already looking for a new flatmate.”

He’s eternally thankful for the skull mask, even if it’s soddened with his sweat because if anyone were to walk by, they wouldn’t see how his face has softened. 

“Yeah?” He sniffs, “Made a new flyer and all tha’?” 

“Oh yeah,” You agree flippantly. There’s a shuffling sound that reminds him of bedsheets. “Made sure to add my boyfriend left me as a footnote.”

The corners of his lips twitch minutely. 

“Thought it was your husband who wasn’t home.” He retorts. “Got a stash of ‘em, then?”

Your chuckle is a breath of fresh air. He wants to have it imprinted in his eardrums, replacing the aggravating tinnitus. 

“Oh, y’know,” you sigh dramatically. “Bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Keeps things interesting.”

“Gotta have a chat with the lad, then.” He taunts, “Set some rules.”

“Good luck with that. He rarely listens.”

He hums fondly. It’s all he can give you, right now. 

He’s new to this, relationships have never been his forte. For the first time in his life, he’s having someone else guide him. It’s hard, he won’t deny it, having another set of hands grasp the wheel, instead of his own. But he’s letting you, however slowly. You’re understanding, and you’re allowing him to leave his foot on the brakes. You never push him, you go at his pace – even if it’s blatantly annoying, how sluggish his movements are. Yet you don’t seem to mind, and he’s eternally grateful for it.

“How…” You start. He can tell you’re unsure, whether or not you can ask these things. Whether or not he can answer them. “How are you?”

His eyes soften. 

“Good,” he reassures you. “’S hot.”

You hum. “North Africa.”

He clicks his tongue. “No.”

“Okay.” A beat. “Middle East?”

Eh.  “No.”

You gasp. 

“You’re throwing me off guard, aren’t you? You said it’s hot, but it actually isn’t.” You say cleverly, even if you’re aware it’s most likely untrue. “North America, then. Like - Canada.”

“Drop it, maybe.” He offers gently. “Making a fool o’ yourself.”

“Alaska.” 

“Love.”  He warns, but his voice is kind. “Wastin’ time.”

“Mh, the script has changed, I see.” You tease him, and he can tell you’re smiling, by the way your voice comes. “Thought you were gonna hit me with the classified.”

“Like to keep you on your toes.”

“Been on my toes for three months.”

His heart clenches a little. He doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want you to live on the line like that. He wonders if you’ve ever felt like this, in the four years he’s lived with you without having anything tethering each other, if not a casual friendship. Were you ever afraid when he left for his deployments? Or is this new to you, like it is for him?

“Fixed the vacuum, by the way.” You tell him lightly, as if sensing the tense air your comment has instilled. 

He silently thanks you for breaking the silence when he couldn’t. A gentle huff of relief travels through the receiver. 

“What was the problem?” He asks, even if not really fussed about the state of the thing.

“Fuck if I know.” You shrug. “Gave it a few whacks and it started working again.”

He fails to keep in a huff of laughter. “Fucking hell, ‘s tha’ what you’ve been doing, then? Hitting appliances?”

“Fixing appliances.” You correct him. “And stress baking. Lots of it.”

“Work’s botherin’ ya?” 

“S’fine.” You sigh sweetly, as though that could give him some peace of mind. “Everything’s fine over here, you don’t have to worry.”

Selfless angel, you are. He would have to be daft not to realize that you’re probably leeching your heart dry at the thought that something might happen to him. He feels like a fool for not having contacted you sooner, even when he had only a minute to spare.

His pride be damned.

“’M sorry I didn’t call earlier.” He apologizes, because the least he can do is hope you forgive him for being like a baby deer on ice about all this. 

“You called.” Your voice is soft. “’S what matters.”

He knows what you mean. He’s alive, that’s what matters. He’s faring good enough to chat with you, that’s what matters. He’s missing you as much as you’re longing for him, that’s what matters. 

He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His offhand runs across his face and he has to rip his own head out of his arse before the thoughts overwhelm him. 

How can he put you through this?  He should’ve left three weeks in, four years ago; should’ve let you share your home with someone more reliable, one who didn’t have a blade oscillating above his neck.

And yet at the same time, he can't let go of you. 

You’re so good to him, you’re the drop of water in a life that’s always felt arid. You made his barren heart flourish without even trying – he didn’t think anyone could, he thought he was bound to be frozen soil, not a garden. But here you fucking are, with your tiny watering can, nourishing the earth and causing it to sprout.

He’s selfish. He is. There is no karmic balance in his reasons. The scale tips in his favor through and through, because he’s sure you’re not gaining anything from this relationship, if not a spike in anxiety and its hand around your neck.

“How long?” You ask, seemingly unable to bear the silence.

"Few weeks." He croaks and clears his throat when he notices how cracked his voice sounds. “Be back in three. Could be two, if things go to plan.”

The silence on your end is deafening. Unwittingly giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Countdown starts, then.” You reply with that sunshine in your voice. Sunbeams through ominous clouds. “Gonna tally the days on the wall with one of your can openers.”

He snorts. “Lotta money to fix.”

“We can put ugly wallpaper over it,” you propose. “So the next person to rent the place will remove it and a whole kidnapping slash ghost story will spread around the neighborhood.”

You’re crazy, he thinks, but not unkindly. His heart squeezes in his chest.

“Fucking numpty.”

“Fucking numpty, or fucking numpty, derogative?”

He smirks. “Former.”

“Wonderful.” You say with a pinch of a smile he can’t see, sounding all smug.

However, nothing nice can last forever, not in Simon Riley’s plane of existence. He spots his captain approaching him, fiddling with the boonie hat in his grasp while his other hand lazily dries droplets of sweat on his forehead.

“Gotta go.” He mutters. Waits a bit. Shuffles through his thoughts and decides to swallow his pride, because you deserve at least that much. “Missed you. Still do.”

You're silent for a moment longer before you give him a last glimpse of your voice. The one he'll hold onto like a lifeline for the next three – hopefully two – weeks. 

“Miss you too.” You say gently. “Come home soon.”

And he’s back suddenly. 

Earlier than expected, at that – one week only. Price was all business, a few days after he caught him sneaking a phone call. Telling him things like “Need you at HQ. Work with Laswell, make sure classified intel stays classified”. And when he questioned why would he send his sniper and lieutenant to do a job an analyst should do, Price answered with a curt “Because I can trust you”.

Honestly, what could he have said to that? Even if it smelled fishy from afar, his reasoning sounded mostly reliable. Because you would send your most trusted to deal with sensitive information, right? And if Simon were a bit more daft and a bit less intuitive, he would've shrugged it off. 

But it was plain as day when his boot landed on British soil, duffel bag in hand. When his phone pinged after he turned off airplane mode, and a text popped up:

[Unknown number]: Take a few days off for the jet lag. 

That he realized the ploy his teammates had concocted. To be honest, he wasn’t as resentful as he thought he was going to be. There was lingering thankfulness – somewhere, deep below layers and layers of stoicism.

[You]: Time zones aren’t that different. 

[Unknown number]: Take a few days off to just rest, then. 

[You]: Not that tired. 

[Unknown number]: Never took you for one to question orders. 

[You]: Never took you for one to put personal life before our job. 

Simon waited patiently under the overhanging lip of the hangar. The Kevlar of his glove crinkled as his fingers curled around the hand of his duffle bag. The rain creates a gentle buzz against the metal.

It took a while for the other bubble to appear, as if the other person – most likely Price, judging by the vocabulary used in the texts – was thinking about the right thing to say.

And the right thing it was, when the words fluttered on Simon’s phone screen.

[Unknown number]: About time you put yours first, though. 

Simon, for once, agreed.

────────────

The keys slide into the keyhole with familiarity. He turns it three times, content to see you’ve locked the door all the way. When he steps in, the flat is quiet, but he isn’t expecting otherwise. It’s late at night, the hands of the clock that’s hanging above the telly mark somewhere around three in the morning, but it’s too dark to be sure. 

He's ever so gentle when he closes the door and gingerly sets the duffle bag at his feet. 

The first thought popping in his head it’s you. You’re not expecting him to be back so soon, and he has this trepidation in him that wants to command his feet to the door of your bedroom only to see how you’d react to his unexpected presence.

But he takes a moment to digest this new feeling. 

It's hard to realize that, finally, you're not dreading something. For the first time in an excruciatingly long while, Simon isn't afraid. While his brain is rigidly wired in a way that makes him refuse to acknowledge his vulnerabilities, the heart knows best.

And he is scared. He’s always been scared, ever since his mother granted him the possibility of walking this earth. Being excited to live has never been his strong suit, but he’s learning. He’s trying. 

Takes practice, to accept you’re worth your happiness.

So, as a novice learner, it’s a little jarring to realize that when his feet land on the hardwood floors of this house, there's no need for fear. He can tuck the dread away, stuff it in a pocket, and close the flap, all the while being sure no harm will come his way. Certainty that with you there’s no need for all that, for vigilance – he can unravel the knots, and simply feel what comes, because it's not going to hurt him. 

You could never.

Hooking a finger under the hem of the balaclava, he snatches it off his head and lays it on the shelf next to the doorway. It’s soaked in rain, but he’ll wash it tomorrow. And he’ll use your fabric softener, so it’ll smell like your sheets. 

The flat looks awfully dull with the lights off. The bright colors are mere shades of grey, and while he’ll never admit it out loud, he truly thinks the orange of the eastern wall brightens the room as you've told him. The thought itself baffles him – Simon Riley now knows a thing or two about home design. You’ve changed him in ways he never expected. 

However, the thing that shocks him even more than his newfound knowledge of home interior embellishments, is when the smell of baked goods bullies its way into his nose. His mouth waters in a Pavlovian response. 

Right.  

Stress baking. 

He kneels to unlace his boots, before toeing them off gently, making sure they won’t thud against the floor and disturb your sleep. Then, he practically floats to the kitchen, still unbelieving at the idea that he gets to come home and find delicacies as such ready to eat. Sometimes, in the span of life he decides to call the “Before you”, he’d snatch a few MREs from the stash in base and eat them once back in his flat. 

Easy, quick, and edible. Even if they taste like cardboard.

And now he gets to walk into a kitchen that smells like blueberries and buttercream and black tea. He gets to grab a lumpy muffin from the tray on the kitchen island and sink his teeth in its golden and blue fluff. The flavors erupt on his tongue, from the saccharine spongy cake to the sweet tang of the blueberry juice as the fruit bursts under his teeth.

He selfishly hopes your stress baking will last for a few more days.

Nevertheless, while he’d gladly eat the whole tray if it were up to him, there’s something he craves more than a full stomach. And you're currently waiting in the other room, probably tucked under the duvet because the British weather tonight is rigidly cold. 

He shrugs off his wind jacket and drapes it over the backrest of a kitchen chair. He can’t afford to take any steps backward. The coat rack is just a few paces back from the kitchen, nailed to the wall near the entrance, but he really doesn’t care. That handful of seconds is too precious to waste.

The steps he takes through the dark hallway are measured and silent; years of special forces training have taught a man his size how to be what his callsign implies.

Discreetly, he turns the knob, trying to make sure he won’t wake you with a startle because the door has barged open. However, the one caught by surprise it’s him. Because you’re not asleep, even if it’s three in the morning. 

Oh, he wants to give you a proper earful – sure, he's not your father, and if you're so keen on staying awake up until this hour on a weekday, then it's your funeral. 

Does it help school the unruly necessity of keeping you as healthy as can be? Absolutely fucking not. You’re a heathen and he hates you for it. 

But now you’re resting your back against the headboard, cross-legged on the bed. Satin blue navy camisole paired with matching shorts, big headphones on your ears, and your laptop on the mattress. You’re typing away. He’s sure you’ve pushed back an assignment from work and now you’re running out of time.

The room is dark, the only light being the screen of your computer casting your silhouette against the wall behind you. It’s silent aside from the patter of rain on the windowpane – you haven’t closed the blinds because Simon knows you love the moon flooding your room with gentle light. However, tonight the clouds are dominating the night sky, but the lampposts across the street are doing what the moon can’t, and you seem to favor that over complete darkness.

It’s clear you haven’t noticed him yet, music blaring in your ears and eyes focused on the monitor. But he’s seen you all right. And your eyes are cast downward, your lashes like annoying curtains depriving him of what he's been missing for the past three months. 

In spite of how muffled his movements have been, you seem to notice a shift in the air. Something that makes your skin prickle, a pair of eyes that shouldn’t be in the same room, nor in the same flat – not now, at least, when he should be mummified in Kevlar and breathable cotton somewhere in the desert. He's secretly proud of how easily you seem to feel fluctuations in the environment. Makes him take a breath of relief, that your reflexes aren't dull even when your senses are already busy.

You lift your head swiftly, and he helps you focus on him by flicking up the light switch. The sudden brightness makes you squint, but you blink it away and finally clock him at the door. 

And your eyes are the color of the sun, he thinks. How could he forget, that they’re the color of a bonfire when it's cold out. Of yellows, oranges, and those occasional sparkles of green when the wood is not dry, but still burns to keep him warm.

Realization paints your face with stunning colors: darkening cheeks, eyes shaped like crescent moons under the pressure of rising cheekbones. Mouth curving beautifully, and it seems to catch your teeth. The smile stretches your lips abruptly, morphing your face in spare seconds.

He sees it happen in slow motion. You rip your headphones and carelessly toss them on the bed, your laptop is skewed to the side so quickly that he instinctively reaches out a hand to prevent its fall. Thankfully, the stars are on your side tonight, and the balance tips it on the mattress, instead of the floor. 

You’re a little hurricane, scurrying off the bed and kicking off the sheets. Getting on your feet and almost slipping in the attempt to reach him in as little time as possible. A tornado of limbs envelops him in the blink of an eye. He barely has time to react that you’re already coiled around him like ivy– arms, legs, and all.

Luckily, the doorway is right behind him, and he manages to tumble back and lean against it. Your arms are vines around his neck. Your legs are roots encircling his waist. You seem to grow on him, supplying his wretched heart with the sap of life you carry – symbiotic. He feels like he can breathe again and has been doing it wrong all this time.

He helps your balance by keeping a firm hold around your waist with his arms, encapsulating you in his warmth. Lean fingers spread on your back, yearning to touch as much as he can reach.

“Easy,” he rumbles. His voice is hoarse because whatever reaction he'd imagined, all this fussing surely wasn’t it.

Your fingers thread through his hair and tug lightly at his scalp. He’s silently apologetic because it must be wet with both rain and sweat, and he's sure the smell wafting from him isn't exactly cologne-worthy. But you don't seem to care, because after you've thoroughly inspected the crook of his neck, your face comes back into view.

Your eyes are the color of joy.

“Welcome back.” You whisper, as if it’s a secret between you two. And you kiss him because surely you must want it as much as he does. A flutter of lashes brushes his cheekbone when you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Nails scrape at his scalp in the gentlest of ways. 

Simon feels your smile before he sees it. “You taste like blueberries.”

And he exhales against your lips. “Found ‘em waiting for me in the kitchen. Baked for an army, y’ have.”

You peck his lips once more, as if you couldn’t fathom a second longer without having them on yours. “Figured you’d be hungry. MRIs can’t be that tasty.”

"MREs,” he corrects. “And you’re right. They ain’t.”

Simon is not sure he’s ever received such a warm welcome, or such warmth in general. He’s not going to complain, of course, but that doesn't mean it leaves him any less rattled each time.

He gently sets you down at the edge of the mattress, standing between your legs – which you’ve pliantly spread to make room for him.

You gesture with your hand from left to right, "Potato, Po-tah-to."

"One is food, the other is medical equipment," he deadpans.

You glare up at him, as if to ask what the hell he wants now – it's three in the morning. Can’t be arsed to correct vowels at three in the morning.

“Potato.” You enunciate it better now, and it steals a lazy grin from him. “Po-tah-to.”

After having flicked your forehead at your insistence, he reverently lays his hand on your cheek and spreads his fingers into your hair.

“Alright?” You ask him.

“Mhmh,” it’s his only reply.

If only to feel you more, he guides your face to his belly. You seem to appreciate the gesture because you're already nuzzling his shirt, fisting it at his back for good measure. Simon feels your back expand and deflate under his palm when you breathe. Feels the rhythmic thump thump of your heart at his fingertips.

You’re life in its purest form. 

Face first into his abdomen, your voice is obviously muffled, but he hears it clearly anyway. "You smell like a sewer, mate."

He snorts, and lightly tugs at your hair, enough to make your head tilt back. He squints his eyes at you. “Cry ‘bout it, mate.”

Simon bends at the waist as you chuckle. Places a kiss on the crown of your head. Your eyes flutter closed and so do his. 

For a moment, there’s nothing but you two. The world muffles its noise to favor the sound of your breaths. The rain patters against the windowpane. Your laptop has gone into standby mode so now the screen is dark. The mellow light on the ceiling, a pale yellow, is like your discreet personal spotlight. 

Then, he reluctantly pulls away, and you chase him for more, pouting when he doesn’t seem to come back. But when he starts to undress, your scowl is easily replaced by a lazy grin. To increase the dramatics of the moment, you lean back on your elbows and wiggle your brows at him, “Well, well.”

You’re not subtle at all with the way your eyes follow a trail down his back, how the muscles fold when his hand reaches to the collar of his shirt and pulls it off his head. Curves and muscles and the indent of his spine. Skin freckled with scars you never ask a thing about because you're kind and you’re giving him time to open up on his own.

He’s put on some weight ever since your relationship has transitioned into something more meaningful, including feelings he still doesn’t have the guts to acknowledge. His abs are not as defined as before, they’re tucked under a layer of fat he’s not really accepting as of lately. The scar running across his stomach and its other companions only add to his self-deprecating streak.

He eyes you briefly as he unbuckles his belt, searching for what he’s sure is going to be a grimace, but he's met instead with the stupidest look he’s ever witnessed. Slow blinking at his form the more he undresses himself. Lips parted as if you’ve tried and failed to catch your jaw.

And that gives him the right to take those thoughts and shove them into the fear pocket. Sew it shut. No need to fear a thing, if you look at him that way.

You bite the tip of your tongue between your teeth. "Givin' me a show, lieutenant?"

The corner of Simon’s lips tugs upward and the sudden self-hatred sublimates under the warm adoration in your eyes.

“Cheeky little thing,” he rumbles, letting his khakis pool at his ankles. He steps out of them and shrugs them off when they catch his feet. 

One last step, and he’s already hooking a finger under the hem of your blue camisole, slowly lifting it up. There's an impish gleam in your eyes that promises trouble and he would love nothing more than to drown in whatever disaster you're planning.

He stands between your legs only in his underwear and after you’ve shut the laptop and placed it on your nightstand, your hands immediately come to rest on his stomach. Simon sighs at the touch.

“You’re a menace,” he says gently when you drum your fingers up to his chest.

Honestly, he hopes you don’t care if he smells like a cocktail of grime and sweat and rain, because, as much as he wishes for a hot shower, the sight of you melts whatever need away. 

Your eyes travel downward, taking a generous eyeful of him. However, he knows you’re not just ogling; you're searching him for wounds. 

Bandages. 

Sutures. 

Anything  that might tell you whether he's hurt or not. 

Obviously, Simon knows you want to ask. But you’re sensible when it comes to his job. In spite of the jabs about all the “Classified” he’s given you as answers, he knows you don’t hold a grudge against him. He also doesn't like to bring work at home, taking pains to leave his safe space untainted by it – instead, he lets you do the detective work yourself. 

A sweet sigh leaves your lips when you settle on the fact that he's unscathed, and you lift your arms up to help him take off your top.

"A menace?" You quip, feigning offense. "M’not the one looking naked and yummy."

“You’re about to.”

You don’t look away from his eyes when his fingers pull your top up and off. The camisole is gently removed past your head, the satin leaving your hair a little staticky. 

“A menace,” he murmurs once more, his tone softer now as he tosses the garment in a vague direction.

You wrap your arms around his waist, propping your chin on the hollow between his ribs, taking in his face as the sight that it is to your eyes. He doesn’t have the energy to question why, and just basks in the adoring attention and in the well-deserved skin-to-skin contact.

"How was it this time?" You ask gently.

His arm drapes over your shoulders, slowly stroking at your skin. A tender kiss to your hairline has you automatically sighing. You do it every time he kisses your head. He's mentally taken note of how his lips press a button of sorts that makes it all wash away, like suds under the jet of water.

“Same as always,” he murmurs, keeping his tone low and soft for your ears only. 

You hum in acknowledgment. "So?"

He smirks, a curve hidden in your hair. “Classified.”

You scoff and playfully slap his butt. He pulls back with a newfound glow in his eyes.

“Not Full Metal Jacket, if you’re wondering.” 

You hum, deciding to play along. “Spies involved?”

He snorts and tucks a rogue lock behind your ear. “Sure.”

You poke his chest as you make your definitive guess. “Three days of the condor!”

His eye twitches when, amongst the myriads of films you’ve ever watched in your life, you quote the one with the CIA involved. He has to flatten his face into something more neutral. Surely yours was a clear shot in the dark that somehow hit the right spot – even a broken clock is right, twice a day. Still, your blind guess doesn’t leave him any less distressed.

“Sorta.” He offers through gritted teeth.

And you don’t push any further, sluggishly resting your cheek on his belly.

"Were you more Robert Redford?” You mumble with half-closed eyes, "Or Faye Dunaway?”

Relief washes over him and he can’t help but huff. Plops a hand on top of your head and smooths down to the ends of your locks, rolling them between the pads of his fingers.

“Faye Dunaway, love.” He rumbles. “No question.”

You playfully tighten the hold around his waist, and with a tug, he's pulled down onto the bed. Simon knows he could easily win whichever battle if you’re the opponent, but he’ll always pretend to struggle just to humor you. He’s careful though, so he props himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you with his bulk. 

Gently, you kiss his nose but he doesn’t pull away, instead allowing the kiss to be reciprocated on your cheek. He reaches out for the switch next to the headboard and turns off the lights. 

Your eyes are the color of a summer’s night. 

They’re dark but twinkle with starlight. Pupils blown and the glowing halo of your irises around them like an eclipsed sun. The light coming from outside seems to favor you, creating shapes around your face able to turn you into a dream made reality.

“I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” You tell him, nose to nose. 

“Won't bother anyone, will it?” He asks mindfully, although he cares very little if your co-workers might get a little miffed about your last-minute call.

You shake your head softly, causing your noses to brush. “Nope, they’ll understand.”

And so, he unfolds, rolling onto his back and taking you with him. Your head is guided by a big hand to rest on his chest. He fits you perfectly into his side, making sure every piece of you adheres like glue to his skin.

“Y’need a shower?” You murmur in his skin, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers are tracing mindless patterns on his chest, skimming over hair and the odd scar here and there.

“Tomorrow,” he replies quietly. “Sleep now.”

“Alright,” you whisper. “Wake me up when you do, yeah?”

“Sure.” He says, looking down at the top of your head. He leaves a kiss in its ruffled mess.

“G’night, love.” He breathes. 

You murmur it back, and fall into your slumber.

────────────

Simon opens his eyes with his heart thundering in his chest. He doesn’t know why, and likely pegs it to mere habit. Three months stuck in hypervigilance will have your body unconsciously overreact at the most subtle of changes, even if there are none.

There’s too much light in the room for it to be night, and a single look at the window tells him the sun is just shy of rising. 

During the night, you must’ve moved around and he must have followed you, because now he has your back to his chest. An arm slung around your waist, the other tucked beneath your neck. 

He gently tugs the duvet a little higher, over your shoulder, and spends the next few minutes just looking at how peaceful you look.

Next to a killer. 

His stomach churns wildly. 

You’re home,  his heart says. You’re not a killer here. 

A shame, truly, that his brain doesn’t agree in the slightest. Two organs fighting like separate entities, and the whole brawl is happening inside of him, mercilessly tearing his flesh apart. 

But it’s already broken, isn’t it? What else is there to shred. 

Yet he’s home and you’re comfortable next to him. So how broken can he be, really?

Torn. Shredded. Lookin’ like you went through the grinder and barely came out of it alive. 

He forces his eyes shut and buries his face in your hair, nuzzling your nape. 

Pretty thing, she is. Who the fuck d’you think you are, mh? 

A sharp inhale. Breathing you in. You smell sweet enough for the sounds in his head to buzz out. Not silent yet, but quiet enough for him to have a breather.

You don’t know how long it takes for his body to expel the exorbitant amount of adrenaline produced in three months of deployment. How his back cracks when it hits the comfortable mattress of yours and his bedroom, after having spent way too much time packed like a sardine on sordid cots or much-too-small sleeping bags.

How he fucking hates it, when you feel so soft and untouched, while he has more scars than bloody years on his back. 

Not right. Ain’t fucking right to you. 

His hand snakes from your waist to follow the curve of your arm. He follows the bulge it makes under the comforter. The rain has turned into a light drizzle, allowing the sound of his skin brushing over yours and the shuffle of the blanket to echo in his ears.

He scoots impossibly closer, pressing your back against his chest hoping your skin would mold with his. Nose buried in the crook of your shoulder; kisses light as breeze following the length of it. 

You smell so good you disarm him. He sighs as if he’s been utterly defeated, lost a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting. 

His mind hushes, finally. His heart unwinds itself – springs let loose, pulse calm. 

There’s you. The way your breaths come. Your limbs stirring at the gooseflesh left by his kisses. The rising sun lapping at your skin. The rise and fall of your back. 

It’s calm.

Your head turns slightly, looking over your shoulder. You must only see his eyes, lazily glancing at you through pale lashes.

Yours are a dawning sun.

They’re soft and gentle, pale yellows and blues, peeking above the sheer horizon of sleep you’re trying to overcome. Idle, slow, but most welcome.

“Hey,” you croak, blinking the drowsiness away. “You okay?”

He hums a quiet yeah in your skin. Hasn’t even noticed his hand returning to your stomach and pulling you in, angling you against his lap. 

And fuck him, but he’s sporting the hard-on of a lifetime. 

He knows you’ll understand that he’s been deprived of such pleasures for three months, but it doesn’t make him any less embarrassed. A hand in his pants, while he hid somewhere more private in the middle of nowhere was a temporary fix that fixed very fucking little. Especially not after having been spoiled by you.

Simon doesn’t necessarily want to fuck you, now. Sure, his dick might have a head of its own, and he wouldn’t complain against it were it to happen, but he still has control of his actions. And now he just wants to feel you, whether inside or out doesn’t matter – as long as it’s you.

Nevertheless, he isn’t expecting you to have much different plans. Naturally, he isn’t going to protest.

Your ass tentatively presses against his length, the satin of your shorts sliding easily along the cotton of his boxers. You’re still so sleepy – he sees you digging a knuckle in your eye, nostrils flaring as you let out a big yawn. 

Were you aware of what you were doing, or were you being a goddamn minx?

“Well, good mornin’,” you murmur, a lick of a smile on your lips. “Brought me a souvenir from bumfuck nowhere?”

Minx it is. 

He snuffs out a chuckle by harshly pressing his lips against your shoulder, sewing his lips shut. Unfortunately, his chest rumbles against your back and you catch it before he manages to catch himself. 

Your hand goes to rest above his own on your stomach, fingers intertwining. 

Soft skin on both sides: palm to your belly, knuckles to your hand. He’s sandwiched in bliss. Three months away, barely any contact, and all he apparently needed to alleviate some wounds was just a handful of hours spent asleep in your presence.

His lips part slightly. Kisses turn wetter and teeth bite at your neck, his tongue darting out to subsequently soothe the ache. Your hand has already guided his own to your breast, and your mouth is breathing sounds he’s missed.

And he tells you, because why should he hide a thing from you.

“Missed ya,” he croaks, voice a little shaky for reasons unknown. He could look in his head (or his heart) and find them – surely, they’re there. But he figures the present feels much better than the jumbled mess inside.

Reasons can wait.

“Let me feel you, yeah?” 

Your head bending backward to his face is the answer you give him, back pressed flush against his chest. You guide his hand up and squeeze it around the fat of your breast to assert your approval. 

But he’s not satisfied with that. Needs your voice to tell him it’s alright, that you’re not under some sleep-induced spell. That you’re fine with having him feel you, and you’re not just offering yourself because he’s been away for so long and you want to give him some sort of reward.

Simply, that you want him as much as he wants you.

His voice is raspy and low, “Words, love.”

"Please," you whisper and vigorously grind your ass against his groin. “Touch me.”

He hisses and presses forward too, meeting your movements. 

He’s still a little out of it, senses overrun by the general fatigue clinging to his muscles as the aftermath of deployment, his bones weary and getting accustomed once more to the comfort of a bed instead of a cot. 

Mind absolutely quiet.

He flicks his thumb over your nipple. Rolls it between thumb and forefinger. Your shuddering breath prompts him to pull at it, and it causes you to arch your back off of him, pressing further against his painfully hard cock. 

He grunts against your shoulder, hand busy teasing your breasts and hips rutting against the plump flesh of your ass. You grind back against him, working in tandem to relieve at least some of that ache. 

Each movement is a languid stroke of fabric that gives him enough pleasure to cause his resolve to falter. When he turns your head sideways, leaving your tits to grasp your jaw, he loses it. Your flushed cheeks, lower lip trapped between your teeth, the whites of your eyes still a little red from sleep.

Lips on lips, slotting together like magnets. 

Too long. 

Too damn long. 

Sure, he kissed you when he came back, a bunch of hours before. But this is a whole other thing. The connection behind it, the pinch of your brows conveying the same desperation he has. Hands grabbing at flesh, bodies grinding against each other. Tongues dancing privately. Eyes closed to shut the world out. Moans and pants, dotted with the occasional curse slipping from his lips when the length of his cock catches the cleft of your ass.

His palm slides down and crosses the threshold marked by your shorts. He’s awfully delighted to find out you have nothing underneath them. Feels blessed when his middle finger slides down your cunt to find it impossibly wet. 

“Oh - Simon,” He hears you whimper, and he almost comes in his briefs then and there because he has no right to hear you say his sullied name with such devotion behind it. 

Seemingly feeling the need to respond in kind, your arm blindly reaches behind, and you slip it between your butt and his groin. Your hand is soft as it palms his cock, the cotton of his boxers an annoying barrier. 

The tip is leaking tremendously, and he should be embarrassed about the obvious wet spot he must be sporting on his briefs. However, he can’t even manage to concoct the thought that your fingers are already fumbling with the elastic band of his underwear and finding their way in.

Simon shudders when your warm hand curls around his shaft. 

You glide your hand up, collecting precum on your palm, before sliding back down again – velvet skin being pulled over the head to steer clear of overstimulation, and then down once more. Similarly, he crooks his finger to gather your wetness and uses it to roll idle circles around your clit. 

And it goes on, and on, and on, and on. It’s slow and drawn out, both of you wanting to reach that high but at the same time don’t – cutting off pleasure doesn’t seem fitting, when both of you have been starved of one another.

He bends the arm beneath your neck to pull your head back, next to his own, cheek to cheek. Simon’s hips jerk to blatantly fuck your fist, yours flow with the movement of his fingers circling your clit, stroking yourself against his hand.

He starts getting antsy, however, when he notices that he can’t properly reach you. Can’t have you unravel on his fingers like he’s done so many times before. Simon wants – needs – to see you unfold and squirm under the pressure of his hand. Needs to have you cream on his fingers – as simple as it’s primal.

He murmurs against the shell of your ear, “Need to stretch you out, love.”

And – goddamn you, you whine. Your hand doesn’t stop its languid movements, but it further slows down, as if you needed all of yourself to cooperate and form a single thought.

“Jus’ do it, I missed you.” You whimper, breathy and high-pitched. “Won’t hurt much, I promise.”

Simon sucks in a sharp breath, closing his eyes because your voice has gone straight to his cock and he needs to disassociate for a second to recollect himself.

You’re a temptress, even in your loving, tender desperation. And how sweet it is to know that he isn’t the only one craving those intimate touches he can only give you. You’ve had your fair share of relationships and lovers, but has he? Some quick ones, enough to get rid of natural aches. Definitely not with a connection so deeply ingrained. 

And he tastes, then, the beauty of mutuality. Of giving and receiving. 

He retreats his hand and prompts you to do the same. Helps you take off your shorts and pulls his cock out of his underwear. He holds you still with one arm around your waist, palm flat against your lower belly to angle you better. 

Gingerly, he guides the tip to your slit, dragging it upward until it catches your clit and you hiss, and then down to your hole. Back and forth, happily realizing that he has, in fact, made you wet enough to make it hurt less. And while he tends to be open to many requests made under the bedsheets, anything that causes you pain is a huge, firm no in his book. 

Which is why he’s a bit hesitant now, pressing chaste kisses against your shoulder, trying to soften the ache that will inevitably come. A juxtaposition, really, to his cock dragging a raw, slow dance down your cunt.

It’s then that you turn your head in the pillow to groan against the fabric, and your legs clamp together and essentially choke him between the plush of your thighs.

The sensation is initially a sharp jolt that makes him spout a series of curses under his breath. But then the glisten of your cunt mixed with the precum you’ve diligently smeared all over him, with your folds and your plump thighs wrapped around him in a warm, wet hug – he sees the appeal. 

And thrusts. Shamelessly – once, twice, thrice. Snapping harshly, only to draw back slowly. Grunting to your skin. Chest vibrating against your back.

“F – fuck,” he manages to choke out, wringing his eyes closed to regain some control over his actions and failing spectacularly.

Your moans don’t help. They perfectly align with the slap of his hips against your ass, with the wet noises of your sodden cunt against his cock. It’s as filthy as it’s fucking wonderful, and he’s terribly afraid he’ll finish before he can even fit the head inside of you. 

The grip he has around your waist only tightens, leaving you breathless by the second. Simon has his mouth next to your ear, giving you the privilege of hearing even the smallest breaths he exhales. 

“You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he whispers, panting from the effort. 

Curiously, he takes a peek over your shoulder as he fucks your thighs, catching the flushed head of his cock stroking your clit and appearing each time he thrusts in. It’s fucking debauched and he loves it to bits. So much that he groans and rolls his eyes, struggling not to paint your thighs with his spend.

“Need to fuck you,” he hurries, choking on the words. “Now, love.”

Rapidly (and reluctantly), he pulls out of the pillowy, snug space your thighs had inadvertently created for him, almost hissing when the cold air hits the sensitive skin of his cock, coated in yours and his arousal. 

“On your back, swee’heart,” he gently guides you down, adding a brisk yet tender “C’mon.”

And you comply, feeling almost like a ragdoll in his hands. Lips parted and slick as they form small Yes’s to convey the same ache he feels. It takes him less than a breath to place his mouth over yours again. 

As he hovers above you, thick arms on each side of your head and chapped lips crashing against your own, he slots his hips between your legs. The softer flesh of the inside of your thighs is still wet from when he’s buried his cock between them. He feels the fluids stick to the skin of his hips.

Taking his time, he lets a hand wander down your chest, flowing to your belly until his fingers reach your core – where you’re wet, and warm, and still pressing up against his cock, searching for friction.

He plunges a finger inside, making the movement of your hips stutter and your mouth gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Gotta stretch you out," he repeats languidly, because he cannot - for the life of him - put words into sentences without thinking about the structure beforehand.

He’s aware he’s big. It used to chub up his ego when he was younger and brash, but now he can’t be arsed about it. Big or small, he’s learned that it’s how you use it – and to be frank, he hasn’t used it much before you.

But he knows it’s going to hurt if he just puts it in with little to no preparation. He hasn’t seen you in three months, and you can trust him when he says he’s as ravenous as you are and can’t bloody wait to be inside you where he’s warm and blessed – but causing you pain? When it can be avoided so easily (and he can make it feel good, too)?

Absolutely not. Categorical. 

He wants you to indulge in the blissful touches and the highs he can bring. Needs you to associate him to kindness and soft breaths and how much he hungers for you – he'll gladly eat you up, but only if you say so. 

“’S not gonna hurt,” you mumble again, sounding a little drunk in the effort to convince him. “Please.”

Your eyes flutter to him, and they’re this dark pool he can’t seem to navigate. Lust overflowing like fat, miry tears that can’t fit in the space of your sockets, and then something even darker – longing. You’re looking at him as if it's the first time you’re seeing him.

He gets it, then, how good you’ve been at hiding it so he wouldn’t hurt at the thought of hurting you. He must've unconsciously taught you a thing or two, by wearing stoicism, neutrality, and more tangible skull masks. 

You’ve missed him body and soul. 

You’re there, eyes heavy and full, begging for him to come back to you. 

How long have you been waiting for me like this? 

“Oh, love,”  he breathes and kisses you again.

A long finger inside, pushing against the place he knows makes your eyes water.

“M’sorry,” he whispers, thumb steadfast on your clit, as if he could apologize just by using his fingers because words tend to fail him when he needs them the most.

And so, he slides in his ring finger too, feeling the momentarily tight fit and the subsequent way you relax to welcome him. Your lips part to sharply breathe in, eyes scrunching close at the stretch. He can feel your hands stiffen against his back until they travel up his spine and tangle through shorn blond hair. 

You’re keeping him close, with your forehead pressed to his almost to the point of pain. Your noses are in the way of the onslaught you’re causing on his mouth. Strained, heavy pants brush his lips when you part from him to breathe, before lavishing him with attention again.

You’re always good with words. You always know what to say, and yet you’re being extremely quiet – it worries him more than the look you have in your eyes. 

“M’sorry.”

For being away. 

For not telling you where I was. 

For leaving you to wonder whether I’d come back, or not. 

For not calling. 

I’m sorry. 

“M’so sorry.”

My girl.  

His hand cradles the back of your head as if he could get you any closer, and he fucks you with his fingers.

“Don’t be,” you reply, your voice so faint and lost in the sounds of your bodies he has to perk his ears for it. “You’re home.”

My sweet, sweet girl. 

And he buries his face in your neck, leaving wanton kisses that have very little erotic power to them. He’s just trying to taste you, really. Trying to commit you to memory again, conveying fierce apologies to your skin. 

He can feel you clench around him, almost sucking him in, each time his fingers reach deep.

“Fuck, need to see you come.” He murmurs to the skin of your neck.

Thumb aching, he replaces it with the heel of his hand. A continuous and tortuous curl of his fingers inside of you, palm cupping your cunt and rolling against your clit. His cock aches when you whimper and stifle it by biting into his shoulder. A sharp exhale. Skin sweaty and pressed against his chest. Hands tugging at his hair. 

“Don’t-” You croak. “Just- just fuck me, Si.”

He groans because stop being stubborn, will ya?

“I’ll cum the moment I get in, swee’heart.” He tries to reason and almost loses it at the raunchy, squelching sounds caused by his fingers between your legs. "Lemme take care of you before tha'."

But it's like talking to a wall.

"'s fine, love. I don't care, yeah?" Your hips move against his hand, but at this point, he gathers it's just a natural body response to pleasure. “You’ll take care of me tomorrow, and the days after that.”

Just when he’s about to rebut, you sandwich an arm between your bodies and curl soft fingers around his cock. The simple act makes him stop his motions, and he feels you pulse and clench around his fingers.

“Please.” You whisper, voice like silk. 

He crumbles, then, at the sight of your eyes. Watery and glossy and wide – lust a long-forgotten thing. 

He nods briefly when he surrenders. A jerky movement of his jaw as he swallows thickly. Doesn’t dare to avert his gaze from yours when he retrieves his hand and loves to catch how your brows pinch at the sudden emptiness inside. Sloppily, he coats his stiff cock with your wetness with a few weak pumps.

His eyes stay on you, as he goes in blindly, guided by touch only, and drives the tip to your hole. Tries to gauge your thoughts by the expressions on your face, and fails miserably, for once, at keeping his own concealed.

Barely aware and in control of what his face is conveying, he gathers you must appreciate it because you shift your palms to cradle his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you do it because there’s nothing on this godforsaken planet that could make his attention swerve to any thoughts but how beautiful you look when your lips stroke his own with featherlight pressure.

And he slides in, comfortably easy. Feels your puffy lips stretch to welcome him whole, inch by inch. Piece by piece of him, in every way you want to interpret it. 

His jaw is locked tight because as soon as your walls envelop the head of his cock, he already feels himself shutting down. His eyes close – he can’t afford to look at how you morph for him. How your pussy swallows the first inches of his cock, puffy clit begging to be touched and lavished. How your mouth parts against his own to yield soft moans and breathy whispers that encourage him to please, please, please go deeper. 

He can’t. Stubbornly thinking he must last long enough to give you some pleasure or it will all be worthless. And so, it’s a repetitive dance: an inch in, and a full pull out. Stop. Another inch, and pull out. 

It’s driving him fucking mental.

“Let go,” you say, tearing his head out of the gutter. “Look at me, and let go.”

He can’t exactly decide whether you’re being the devil on his shoulder, or an angel sent from heaven – either way, the aim is to ruin him. Yet it doesn’t matter when he opens his eyes, and you look so beautiful his heart cracks, with a thin layer of sweat on your brow and the sheen of his spit on bitten lips. 

You don't have to tell him twice at this point, because the way your hands force his face steady so he keeps his eyes on you does most of the trick. His resolve crumbles at breakneck speed.

He bottoms out, pushing his pelvis flush against yours. Your eyes roll back at the same time, legs going stiff and tight around his hips. He does a tentative roll that causes the coarse hair on his groin to press against your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," you breathe, your voice cracking at the edges. He echoes it right after you, or at the same time – he's not sure, but in his defense, he's not confident about a single thing right now.

If not how absurdly scorching you are, all wrapped around him.

With that, he hooks one arm around your waist and tucks his other hand behind your head. He holds you close like you might slip away, and he’s sure as hell not taking any chances.

He fucks you slowly, deep thrusts that fill you up all the way, and greedy love bites on your neck. Open-mouthed kisses at your throat, sliding up to your jaw and cheeks, all the way to your lips. Truthfully, he’s both trying to get his senses chock full of you, and keep his mouth shut so no words spoken while in ecstasy escape.

The slap of his hips against yours drowns the taps of the morning drizzle against the windowpane. He’s got your face buried in the crook of his neck, and your pants echo in his ears like a fucking promise that threatens to unravel him.

Each thrust has him fully sheathed inside of you. It fills him with primal pride and fuels his pleasure, because you take him so fucking well he can't help but think he's modeled you in his perfect image. He grunts against you and tugs at your hair out of sheer desperation to hold on – just a little longer.

But you’re swearing in his ear. Breathless fuck’s whispered like a curse and a vow at the same time. You shift your hips to change the angle and that makes him hit even deeper and he swears he hears you whimper in that telltale way he knows well.

He lifts your hips up and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

And he absolutely rams into you.

“Christ I missed you.” He rumbles and his voice cracks while your moans rise in pitch and your nails scratch his back. “Fuckin’ thought of you," Thrust. "Every bleedin’ day.”

He’s rambling now, intoxicated on the feeling of you. His words are slurred and strained and, deep down, there’s a more sober version of Simon Riley cursing at himself for speaking his heart out.

Luckily, it’s drowned by the slap of flesh against flesh and the wet sounds of your cunt milking him dry. 

Finally, he thinks, he's using his strength not to wield a heavy M4 or to ram against hostiles, but to fuck you on his cock – knee-deep in the mattress for leverage.

He lets go, like you asked.

He murmurs in your ear (Fuckin’ beautiful), words alternated with heavy pants (An’ all mine) and the animalistic grunts of a man cocooned in bliss (All fuckin’ mine).

His hips stutter and he knows he’s close, but you’re not even nearby, in spite of how he can feel you clench around him, sucking him in. And God, the guilt that fills him almost makes him stop even if he has that sweet, sweet release just around the bend.

But you won’t have that, naturally. 

Your fingers thread through his hair, clammy and sticking out weirdly because he’s sweaty and hot. He feels his head being shifted to the side, so you can look into his eyes.

And oh, how can you look at him like that? How is he even deserving of it – fuck you and your relentless ways to crawl under his skin and make him feel like he’s worth a damn, with your eyes glossy and hooded. A thick veil of admiration, fondness, and you. 

You, you, you. 

Where have you been all his life, with this color in your eyes?

“Come inside.” You plead tenderly, breathless and raspy, as he pounds you into your own bed. Your fingers smooth back rogue strands that are sticking to his forehead. “Please come inside.”

And you crush his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. One that marks his demise. He’s falling hard into your embrace, figuratively and literally, too.

He uses whatever shreds of strength he has left to ram into you as if his life depended on it, punching gasp after heaving gasp out of your beautiful lips into his hungry mouth.

It works like a spell because he feels the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock. Syrupy hot warmth runs down his legs to the tips of his toes. Tingling. Tightening. Burning so good he thinks he's melting within you.

Suddenly, his head spins, and he groans in your parted lips as he ruts into you one last time – until he has you filled to the brim. His eyes slam shut as he spills inside of you – cock pulsating and hot. 

His high takes its sweet time, canceling out all background noises and only leaving your sweet breaths to fill in his ears, and the pounding of his heart. 

Simon unceremoniously drops on you like dead weight, allowing your legs to return around his waist. His lips slide off yours until his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. He’s absolutely spent, but there isn’t enough fatigue in this world that could keep him away from you. You’re sweaty and he’s worse, but he doesn’t see why, in the haze of his orgasm, he shouldn’t have his lips reach every inch of skin he can.

His kisses are lazy – a stark contrast from the desperation he’s displayed until now. 

He feels safe. He feels at home, still buried deep inside of you, feeling the come that couldn’t fit inside ooze out and onto the bedsheets. A bummer to clean, he’ll realize when he’ll get his sanity back.

And he wants to tell you so many things when he feels your hands skimming down his back in a soothing dance. Wants to tell you how you’ve flipped his life, with the ease of tossing a coin – heads and tails. Opposites so striking you should be deemed a witch. 

He was in deep fucking shit before you offered your smile. Inching closer and closer to dead-ended alleys and dark, murky thoughts that could only lead to dreadful places.

You gave him something to yearn for, something to miss when he's away, and something to cherish when he's here. 

There’s nothing he can do to return the favor but love you in equal measure. 

It’s not the first time the word love has come up in his head when his mind was lost in memories of you. And while he’d rather not dwell on it now, while you hold him to your chest as he comes back to his senses, he knows the time will eventually come.

Yet he doesn’t dread it. Not one bit.

Fear pocket sewn shut. Finally. 

He lifts his head to look up at you and finds you doing the same – he’s sure he’s thoroughly fucked in the best way imaginable. 

“I’ll take care of everything later,” you say, reading his thoughts. “You okay?”

It takes him a while to respond. Mental gymnastics to reawaken the parts of his brain that are still tingling in the afterglow. 

“Never better, love.” 

“Sleep?” You offer, as if he isn’t still buried inside of you and effectively crushing you under his weight. 

You don’t seem to mind, and so he trusts you and doesn’t either.

His eyes are half closed as he slides down to rest his head in the valley of your breasts. "Y' didn't cum," he mumbles, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the fat of your tits.

Your fingers brush through his hair to keep him close, and when your nails scrape at his scalp he feels gooseflesh rise along his arms. 

"'S fine," you whisper gently, and he's struck by the earnestness in your tone. But then you quip, "I'll have ya on your knees tomorrow."

And he scoffs. "Makin' it sound like a punishment."

You purse your lips and land a kiss on the crown of his head. "Then stop complaining."

He grunts something he himself can't even discern. 

“Y’need to piss first.” He grumbles mindlessly, as if the thought of you standing up annoys him but he knows a UTI is even more aggravating.

You snort. “Charming."

And he responds in kind. "Chivalry's dead anyway."

There's a few seconds of silence only broken by your quiet chuckle. "I’ll wait for you to fall asleep, then ‘m off to the loo. Deal?”

He grunts in agreement, liking the compromise you’re offering. “Deal.” 

And his head stays quiet. Sleazy hands and raging voices cease, silenced under the thunder of your heartbeat.

“I missed you.” He thinks he hears you whisper, your voice thick and wet. He closes his eyes with his head on your chest. “’M so happy you’re home.”

────────────

Simon wakes up with shy sunbeams peeking through the blinds and brushing his brow. You must’ve closed them when you woke up, to shield him from the sun.

He blinks idly, momentarily lost in that phase between sleep and waking life, still unsure of where he is. His mouth is pasty, and his eyes struggle against sunlight. The duvet is up to his chin, and it smells of grapefruit-scented softener, and of you. The pillow is a little wet, and he embarrassingly notices that it’s because he’s drooled on it – he smacks his lips once, twice, but his tongue might as well be a dried-up cinderblock.

It has been a long time since he’s slept like this. Since his mind has shut down and left him alone. Since his night has gone smoothly, sleep comatose and dreamless – nightmare-less.

And you’re not there, but that’s okay.

Because he hears your music from the kitchen, kept at a low volume so you won’t wake him up. The clanking of utensils frames the beat, pans and pots being moved around as you hum to yourself following the melody. The smell of eggs, sausages, potatoes, and fresh veggies – a full English. Wafts of that disgusting coffee you drink in the morning intertwined with the softer notes of the tea you’re brewing for him.

You were right: he is home.

And he can’t see your eyes, but that’s okay too.

He guesses he’ll never remember their exact shade, Simon’s fine with it. No better thing than to discover you once more, each time he gets to come home.

They change with you, following the flow of whatever you allow to show, and of what he’s learned to read. They’re the color of that life he’s unwittingly always looked for. That life promising a pocket of peace for himself. Chock full of love and nice things he’s always been deprived of.

A balm to both his ancient and newest wounds.

He has never shared a single story about his past, never told you why his body is like a tattered book whose tale is as horrific as it looks. But you don’t mind, and he doesn’t know why because he’s firmly set on the idea that you must know someone inside out to be sure you care.

And it’s then that it hits him, that you do know him – better than anyone. You know the man he is. You want the man he is now, the man he will be one day – as mental as it sounds to him. His present, and his future. And sure, his past might have made this man you know, but he’s not the same Simon under his father's thumb or the one felled by Roba’s tortures.

Although he’s not sure he can reopen certain sutures without the wounds bleeding all over the floor, he'll try. He’ll clean up, if he must, knowing that you’ll help him have each injury scab over again. 

What baffles him is that you’re not saying he has to. You’re saying he can. And this choice you’re giving him is a privilege he’s never had the chance to bear.

He can tell you everything, and you’ll listen. He can keep it to himself, and you’ll stay, accepting that there will be places of him you’ll never venture – and to you, that is fine.

As long as he stays, too.

There are no words he can use to express his gratitude. He can only love you – and it might take him a while to acknowledge that he’s capable, but he already does love you.

You appear at the door as he’s lost in his own head, still tucked under the duvet. Strips of sunlight cross your form, curving around the beautiful shape of you.

“Good morning, you.” You say, with a smile that reminds him of the sun.

Lazily, he offers one of his own to you. It’s lopsided and he thinks not quite as beautiful. 

He hopes you forgive him for it: takes practice to be happy, and he’s still learning.

And so, he smiles, and looks at you like you're the most tangible form of joy he's ever witnessed. 

His voice is raspy from sleep, and soft from you.

“Mornin’, love.”

[torialefay]

You Know Whose You Are 👀

hyunjin x gn!reader smut

✨ friends to lovers trope 🔞

✨ request: "Hi!! For your smut prompts can I pls request Hyunjin & 24 (Hyunjin being the jealous one)? Maybe enemies to lovers or friends to lovers scenario? And for the actual p-in-v part can he fck reader holding her up against the wall (like her back against the wall and legs around his waist position)? Sorry if this is a lot, I’m on my period and I’m having many specific thoughts lmao. Thank you!! 🥰🤍" -anon

✨ word count: ~3.5k

✨ warnings: porn with a plot; minors dni!

• you and hyunjin had become close friends quite a while ago.

• he quickly became one of your closest friends after you'd met him in a bookstore after first arriving to korea.

• while keeping your eyes fixated on the rows of books next to you, you accidentally ran straight into his chest.

• after quickly apologizing to him, you both struck up a conversation about your favorite books & authors. you had no clue who he was, and he liked that about you.

• a real friend.

• since that day, you'd messaged back and forth a lot, hung out almost on a routine basis, and made lots of fun memories.

• after a while, you eventually found out he was an idol (it was bound to happen with his weird "work schedule" he always had), but it didn't matter. he was the same hyunjinnie that you'd built a solid friendship with over the past few weeks.

• but that was the problem- you didn't want it to be just a friendship.

• and who could blame you? hyunjin was the most amazing, kind, intelligent person you'd ever met. you had more in common with him than even your very best friend. it was only natural to develop those feelings for him.

• but you knew the feelings weren't reciprocated.

• he'd never made so much as a subtle hint that he was interested in you as more than a friend... and let's be honest, he was basically the most wanted guy in all of korea. how could you compete with all these other beautiful people?

• so you didn't even let your mind wander to that extreme. you accepted the fact that he'd be nothing more than a friend to you, no matter how much you knew it could have worked out.

• "my best friend", you'd learned to teasingly call him. and soon, even you started to believe it. only that.

• one day, you'd gone over to hyunjin's apartment. he mentioned that he wanted to repaint the walls in the living room, so you offered up some of your free time to help him out.

• it wasn't super often that you came to his apartment. only a couple of times. you'd usually only gone out to do things together like go to a new art gallery or to grab coffee and talk about life. cutesy little things.

• you weren't the most familiar with his apartment, but that didn't matter much as you quickly settled in. you placed your phone in the kitchen to blare music, then headed to the living room to help coat the walls with a fresh set of paint.

• it did take a bit longer than you thought, but you didn't mind. when you and hyunjin were together, you always had fun, taking little jabs at each other and laughing to funny stories you had. the time always seemed to melt away.

• after a couple of hours, your playlist turned off. you guessed it had run out of songs.

• "jinnie, could you get a new playlist going on my phone?" you held your hands up, covered in paint. "i think it'd take me a while to do it."

• he laughed, realizing how messy you were compared to him.

• he didn't need to say anything, just got up and walked over to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away.

• as he went to tap the screen, a notification popped up... from one of hyunjin's life-long friends.

• the two of you had met a week or so ago when hyunjin invited him to go to a poetry reading with the two of you. his friend, ha-joon, wasn't necessarily as into the activity as the two of you were, but hyunjin felt bad canceling his original plans with him when he'd found out the event was happening and really wanted to go.

• and now... he was texting you?

• he read the message as it splayed across the screen:

Ha-Joon: Excited to see you tomorrow :) What are you doing?

• it's not that you were very enamored by ha-joon when you first met, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. plus he was friends with jinnie, so you figured he couldn't be too bad. when he messaged to ask if you'd be interested in going out with him, you thought you'd give it a shot. it's not like you had any other romantic prospects.

• "what's your password? i'll flip to a different playlist," hyunjin raised his voice, trying to act non-chalant. he silently thanked the fact that he was just out of sight.

• "2-7-4-4-1-2" you said back to him.

• he quickly scrolled through the playlists and chose one, letting the music blast through the speaker once again.

• "i'm gonna get a drink, do you want one?" hyunjin lied, going to open up the messages on your phone.

• "yeah, i'll take a water if that's okay?"

• "sure, i'll get it in just a sec." he started to sound nervous as he clicked to ha-joon's name on your phone. dang, texts going back to the beginning of the week. he quickly scrolled through to find quite a few message exchanged between the two of you. he scrolled back to the conversation that started last night.

Ha-joon: This might be a little bold, but I'd really like to get to know you more. Not just through texting. Would you want to grab a coffee sometime? Just you and me?

Sure! That'd be really fun :)

Ha-joon: Are you free sometime tomorrow?

I'm not really sure yet. I'm going to help Hyunjin paint. How about we just plan for the next day?

Ha-joon: Sounds good to me!

Ha-joon: Hyunjin will be okay with this, right? With us meeting up?

I don't see why not. He'd probably be happy about introducing us!

Ha-joon: Okay, I just didn't know if I should let him know or not is all.

Ahh that's okay. I don't think we need to rope him into any of this unless things go well between us ☺️

Good plan. I'm excited to see you!

Same here :) Text me tomorrow and let me know where you want to meet up.

Will do! Sleep well 😊

• hyunjin felt his heart break. he knew he had no right to. but he couldn't help it.

• of course he harbored feelings for you. how could he not fall for the one girl he ever felt like truly "got" him?

• but he hadn't wanted to tell you. not yet. he didn't want you to think that was the only reason he kept hanging out with you. he genuinely LOVED being around you. he was himself when he was with you. and he was so scared he'd lose that if he told you.

• but he hadn't said anything. so he couldn't be upset.

• he mentally kicked himself for introducing you to ha-joon.

• he thought on it for a bit as he reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of water for you. he quickly exited out of the app as he rested your phone back on the table to play the music.

• the upbeat tunes coming out completely mismatched what he was feeling in the moment.

• he stood for a moment, then walked back to the living room, where he saw you sitting cutely on the floor, knees bent criss-crossed as you painted the bottom of the wall carefully.

• suddenly, he started to think about how lucky he felt with this sight in front of him. and how he didn't want another man to be able to see you like this: hair tied up, sitting contently on the floor, completely covered in paint, looking so happy just to be there while bopping your head to the beat without a worry in the world.

• he wanted that. he wanted you. and suddenly, he saw red.

• he leaned against the door frame, now subconsciously squeezing the bottle of water in his hand.

• "y/n, can you come over here for a minute?" he said, voice now full of authority. his face looked annoyed, as he looked off, not able to focus his eyes on you.

• you looked at him confused for a moment, then carefully stood up, walking over to him wondering what was wrong all of a sudden.

• "what is it?" you asked, looking up at him innocently. you could tell something had him deeply bothered.

• his jaw clicked for a moment before he finally looked at you.

• "why didn't you tell me you were going out with my best friend?"

• the question caught you off guard.

• "were you going through my phone?" you asked. you didn't mean to sound accusatory, but that's how it came out.

• "i didn't mean to, but there it was." he looked down at you, not backing down.

• "i mean, yeah, he invited me to get coffee... is it a big deal? i thought you'd be happy if maybe we started seeing each other."

• "well, i'm not."

• "look jinnie, i'm sorry. maybe i should have told you, but i didn't think you'd care. surely he's a good person if he's your friend. and i'd like to think i'm a good person, so it just-" suddenly, he cut you off.

• "it's not about being a good person, y/n!" he began to raise his voice. "what about me?!"

• "what about you?" you asked, voice full of confusion.

• "i like you, goddamn it! give me a chance, not him!" he was full on yelling now, pressing himself up against you. suddenly, you felt small, but so fucking smitten at the same time. hyunjin actually liked you? this whole time?

• your head started spinning. it was just... it was a lot. you began to slowly move back from him a bit.

• "jinnie... i don't... i don't know what to say."

• he followed your path, pushing his body forward toward yours. you were about to be trapped in against the freshly painted wall behind you. you had no where else to go without ruining the wall.

• "say you'll let me take you out. not him." his eyes were trying to tell you something, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what. you'd never seen him like this.

• "i can't just do that to him... i mean he's your friend and i don't want to make things weird and i didn't know you even thought about me-" you were just rambling at this point before hyunjin cut you off.

• "i don't give a fuck if he's my friend. i wanted you first." he pushed his body right against yours, your front feeling him completely. he aligned his face perfectly in front of yours.

• "for how long?" you asked meekly.

• "since i first saw you." he let his eyes wander down to look at your lips before coming back up to focus on your eyes.

• being so close to you, he lightly closed his eyes, letting his lips linger next to you. "give me a chance first. if you don't like it, you can go to him... but i want you more than he does. i promise you that."

• goose bumps popped up along your skin. you couldn't believe he was actually into you. it was actually such a shock, you almost didn't even let your mind think on it. you'd wanted it so bad and suppressed it for so long. you didn't even know what to think. so you remained quiet, just pondering on what you could say.

• "let me show you," he whispered into your ear, getting too impatient to wait for your response. "let me show you how good i could be to you."

• again, you couldn't muster up words. you were so shell-shocked, you didn't even know where to start.

• he leaned into your ear, his breath hot over top of you.

• seductively, he whispered into you, "just tell me to stop," before planting a slow kiss to the side of your neck, at the sensitive spot right below your ear.

• you let out a slight moan at the unexpected sensation. you felt the hairs on your body start to stand up.

• hyunjin smiled and moved his small kisses along your jaw and cheek, then planting straught onto your lips.

• he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, running his hands through your hair until he was holding the back of your head in one hand and squeezing your jaw with the other. he wanted full control of you.

• he moaned as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, giving him access to enter inside your mouth too.

• as you smiled into him, he walked you back until you were pressed up against the wet wall. to hell with it.

• you continued grappling at each other, shoving tongues down throats like horny teenagers. you couldn't help it. this was all you'r ever wanted.

• until you started feeling hyunjin slightly buck his hips into yours. you felt his bulge grind the tiniest bit against you, turning you on with the gentlest touch.

• he let out a small chuckle as you moaned at the sensation.

• he kept sucking on your tongue, harder and harder as he more fervently grinded himself into you. you could feel him getting rock hard against you. and fuck did it feel so good. you couldn't help but pant, and run your hands along his body, desperate to grapple onto whatever you could.

• you pulled on his collar, pushed your hand up his shirt to run along his abdomen, tugged on his waist band- anything and everything you could cling to in order to feel closer to him.

• and he reciprocated fully. he moved his hand around your jaw to secure your face down against the wall, pinning you back hard. his mouth never disconnected from yours as he used his other hand to run along your body. down your neck, around your boobs, down your stomach, down to wear he ground against you, hoping to make brief contact with you before taking his hand around your waist to grab your ass.

• you moaned loudly as he shoved his tongue deep into your mouth and grabbed a handful of your ass with a harsh squeeze. the slight pain felt too fucking good to not yell out about.

• your noises only agged him on more.

• he pulled his mouth off of yours for a split moment.

• "let me take these off?" he asked hungrily, pulling at the top of your leggings.

• you didn't have to respond, you quickly yanked the fabric down, along with your underwear and ripped them from your feet and to the side.

• he smiled down at the sight, loving how willing you were to give into him.

• he connected his mouth back to yours as he followed suit and hastily unbuttoned and slid down his pants and boxers.

• when he was done, he grunted as he felt himself now unclothed, finally getting some friction against you.

• you couldn't contain yourself as you heard him grunt for you. you quickly pulled your hand up to your mouth, spitting into it quickly before bringing it back down to stroke hyunjin's cock.

• "ah fuck," he let out, letting himself grow harder and harder. this was the hardest he'd ever been.

• a wave of aggression came over him as he started to feel territorial. he brought a hand around your neck to give it a tight squeeze.

• "faster," he instructed. he reached his hand down to toy with you too, slowly working up pace.

• you felt yourself becoming more deprived of oxygen as you pumped your hand along him, going down to his tip. when he wasn't satisfied, he rested his forehead on yours and began thrusting his cock into your hand, throwing out grunts as he went. he kept working at your hole until you were lightheaded and writhing underneath him.

• he smiled and let out a little laugh as he released the pressure from your neck to let you gasp for air. you felt light-headed and needed to come back down. but hyunjin didn't let up.

• "let me fuck you." it was more of a demand than a question, but you didn't fight it. you slowly nodded from underneath him.

• he swiftly rand both hands down to your waist and then around your ass until they were resting behind your thighs.

• "jump," he instructed.

• you weren't sure about this. you'd never done it before. you were scared you'd fall and ruin the moment, but you decided to just put your trust into it. pushing your back against the wall, you threw your legs up as he guided them and secured them in place around his hips. he made sure to support the rest of you by keeping your back pressed tight to the wall.

• he used one hand to guide his dick to your entrance before steadily thrusting himself inside. it took your breath away at the sudden stretch and feeling of him inside of you. he didn't give you very much time to settle into it though as he started to fuck into you. hard and steady.

• his hand came back up to support under your thighs, securing you on top of him and pushing you back so your head was almost slamming into the wall as he pounded into you.

• you felt so good around him. so tight. squeezing onto him for dear life.

• he hungrily brought his mouth to your next as he sent fast, angry strokes into your. he guided his tongue around, planting sloppy kisses and fast, violent bites that made you scream out. he fucking loved it. he wanted to hear you scream. make you forget about any other man.

• "that's right baby, scream for me. you know whose you are," he growled. he was fucking you so hard you thought you'd pass out from the overstimulation of it all.

• you kept moaning for him, not knowing how to do anything else.

• before too long, you felt yourself start to pant harder, feeling hyunjin hit just the right spot. you started to grow warm inside, getting your breath taken away with each pounding.

• "jinnie," you breathed out, finally opening your eyes to see him with his eyes hyper focused on you, like he was ready to attack at any moment.

• you could only breathe heavily before repeating his name again. "jinnie, i'm gonna cum." you felt yourself reach a breaking point. it was coming. now.

• "that's fucking right. you're gonna cum for me right now... it's just me from now on. only me." he growled, fucking himself into you faster. "cum on me right fucking now!" he ordered, ramming into just the right spot to send you over the edge.

• you gasped as you threw your head back, beginning to spasm around his cock.

• "ahhh fuckkkkk, just like that," hyunjin mimicked you, throwing his head back now too. "fuck, fuck, fuck," he breathed out, slamming into you faster than ever.

• "ughhhhhhhhh," he yelled as you felt him release inside of you. you could feel yourself still shaking around him, not being given any sort of break.

• as he finished out his high, you wiped at the few tears that had built up in your eyes from the overstimulation.

• once hyunjin was done, he slowly lowered your legs off of his hips and set them back down on the floor, keeping his cock resting inside of you as he put you down.

• with you both now panting and trying to settle down, he just brought both hands up to cradle the sides of your face. he pushed himself a bit deeper inside of you, just enjoying the feeling of resting within you.

• he smiled down as he planted a soft kiss to your forehead.

• you smiled back up at him, placing your hands on his chest over his heart.

• "i think this is how we're meant to be," hyunjin said in a low voice.

• "i think so too," you grinned.

• he kept planting tiny kisses onto the same spot of your forehead. "tell me you aren't still going with him tomorrow."

• "of course not. i know whose i am." you gave him a quick wink.

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

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[injvns]

if words were flowers - zhong chenle

wc: 478

notes: based off the title of the curtis harding song :P enjoy!!!

if words were flowers, chenle would give you them all.

you don't know how long it's been since he opened his mouth, but it's been quite a bit since he shut it. 

he started off showing you clips of the latest golden state warriors game, raving about steph curry, then it went to how basketball has been going for him personally, to how if he had his own team he'd make daegal the mascot, and now he's planning a picnic date with you and daegal.

"do you think we could bring those chocolates you like or would that be too risky?" chenle's got his notes app open, writing down his groundbreaking picnic ideas, "ooh! or maybe i can get the macarons from the place in town instead!"

he looks so proud of himself as he backspaces to replace the words 'chocolate maybe??' with 'macarons from that one place.'

you can't help but smile at his excitement, it amazes you how chenle never lacks the imagination to keep endless conversations. words flow out of him like petals in the wind.

he hasn't stopped rattling off ideas, you honestly think his brain runs at least 20 miles faster than his mouth can keep up with. you also think it might be time to finally cut him off.

"babe, we can have a picnic whenever we want, slow down." you reach out to grab his phone from his hands, "figuring out all the details doesn't need to be done today."

he turns to you in sync with the taking of his phone, "but i was on such a roll.."

"and i'm sure you can get your groove back whenever," you put his phone on the table beside the couch before quickly turning back to him, "your thoughts are kind of endless, lele."

he scoffs, "you know you love my voice, don't even try to deny it." the sentence ends with an overly dramatic eye roll.

"i do love your voice, but i also hate you so they cancel each other out." you shrug nonchalantly as you say it, though your grin is anything but.

"then i guess i just have to talk so much that it overpowers the hate." he copies you, shrugging casually, but eyes smiling brightly.

"i guess you do," your head falls onto his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

chenle has never been one to stop talking around you, or at all. it's like his brain is running at full speed while his mouth is on autopilot, and today is no different. you can feel the vibrations of his voice as he talks, head rested where his neck meets his shoulders. it's relaxing, lulling you into a sleepy daze, but you'd rather die than give up listening to the soothing tones of chenle's voice.

if words were flowers, you'd cherish every single blossom chenle gifted you.

[thought--bubble]

Surprise Sweetheart

Will (Salad Days) X Reader (Scream AU)

Word Count: 3,140

This is my submission for @fandomeventcenter 's FanFrankentober Event.

Thank you for reading my rough draft @schniiipsel and @anjelicawrites

Beautiful Header by @vhagar-balerion-meraxes

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Dividers and Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: Violence, Death, Threats, Fear, Smut (P in V unprotected), Emo Angsty Boy Activities

The night was heavy with an unsettling mix of fear and festivity. While you were typically a big fan of the Halloween season, even you felt that having this party, after what had just happened mere weeks ago, was macabre.

Tom's house was filled with the smell of beer and the sound of drunk people laughing and yelling, but Leah couldn't join in on the revelry.

Just a week ago, she had been with Matt, planning this very party when they received a call that would forever change her life.

“What's your favorite scary movie?” A question that seemed innocuous but was the catalyst that set her world hurtling into chaos.

Both you and Leah had tried to convince Tom and Will that the party should be canceled out of respect for Matt, who had recently been eviscerated by the Ghostface killer while Leah helplessly watched from her sliding glass doors.

Yet they both claimed it would be more disrespectful to Matt if they were to cancel the party, citing how much it meant to him and how “This is what he would have wanted.”

Thus, you both acquiesced, and with that reasoning, neither of you felt that you could skip the party without it being seen as disrespectful to Matt's memory.

When you entered the house, pushing through those you recognized from your area, Leah stood in the corner of the living room, her eyes glossed over as she watched their friends dance and drink. You noticed her disassociated demeanor and walked over to her, quickly wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice softer than usual. You wanted to handle her as if she were made of glass because you were terrified she could shatter at any moment.

Leah forced a smile. “I’m trying. It’s just... everything feels so different without him. He should be here.” Her eyes flitted around the room, passing over each party guest before she softly repeated, “He should be here.”

You nodded, trying to be understanding of her grief. “Let’s get some fresh air, yeah? We can have a chat.”

The two of you stepped outside; the cool October air chilled your skin, freeing you to breathe after the stifling feeling of being inside. You could still hear the music and voices carry through the air. It sounded and smelled just like every other party, yet felt so different.

“I miss him so much,” Leah whispered, her eyes beginning to water as she valiantly attempted to blink the tears away. You pulled her into a comforting hug, wishing you knew how to help her, yet having no idea how. What does one do to help someone who watched their boyfriend die in such a gruesome way?

Eventually, you got her inside and sitting next to you on the sofa. It was actually nice as you sat in the living room with friends telling stories about Matt and all the wonderful and silly memories people had of him.

Tom and Will talked the most; it didn't surprise you. The three of them were as close as three friends could be, always taking off into the night together and somehow coming back with money, jewelry, and electronics. You learned quickly not to ask where it came from when Will randomly gifted you an MP3 player filled with classical music.

Leah listened for as long as she could, her heart breaking with every story and memory. So when Tom got up and said they were out of beer, Leah jumped at the opportunity to get some air.

“I'll get it!” she said quickly, jumping up from her place beside you. “It's just in the garage, yeah?”

“Yeah, just in the fridge,” Tom gestured toward the garage door.

“Well, while she does that, I’m gonna pop to the toilet,” Will stood and stretched, the blonde curls from below his gray joggers slightly peeking out.

Your cheeks heated up, and you looked away, hoping beyond hope that Tom didn't catch you staring. Yet as soon as Will walked off, Tom called you out.

“Get a good view, did ya?” he teased. “Only a sliver of stomach, and you're tripping over yourself!”

“Shut it, Tom!” You whacked his chest and laughed. “It was… slightly distracting.”

You chatted and laughed with Tom for quite some time before realizing that Leah hadn't returned.

“She's taking ages, isn't she?” You turned around on the sofa, looking toward the garage door.

“Uhh… yeah… I'll go see if she's alright. I'll be right back.” He jumps up off the sofa and heads toward the door.

“Don't say that! Remember Matt's rule!” You chuckled, recalling Matt's rules for surviving a scary movie.

Tom put his hands up, wiggling his fingers and trying his best to make eerie ghost moans. “I'll be right back!”

You chuckle to yourself as the garage door closes behind him. Tom's a goofball and if Leah is in there crying, you know he will be able to provide her at least some sort of comfort.

Yet, as the party begins to clear out the sky outside growing dark you once again turn toward the closed garage door.

“What is taking them so long?” You think out loud. Then you heard a thump upstairs and felt relieved. That must be Leah. She probably went off to cry by herself or just get away from the overwhelming atmosphere.

Annoyed, that Tom couldn't have been bothered to come and tell you Leah wasn't in the garage, you slowly walked upstairs and peeked your head around the bannister once you reached the landing. “Leah?” you whispered.

“Nah, just me, love,” Will walked over to you. “What are you sneaking around for?”

Your cheeks flushed again, as they always did when Will spoke to you. “I'm looking for Leah. I think she's wandered off somewhere to cry or something. Tom was supposed to find her but hasn't come back yet.”

“Trusting Tom when he's off his face?” Will chuckles “We are gonna have to find her then.” Will's hand slipped into yours as he led you down the dark hallway.

You followed him with a goofy grin on your face. You knew you should be worrying about Leah and her current emotional state, but with Will's hand in yours, you couldn't help but lose focus. Leah would understand; she's your best friend, after all.

Will pulled you into a bedroom and flicked on the light. “Not in here…” he said softly, closing the door behind him with a deafening click.

With your heart racing, you turned and looked at Will. “This is Tom's room, isn't it?”

“Aye, that it is.” He nodded slowly, his eyes raking over you as he takes a slow step forward.

You quickly turned your back to him, attempting to distract yourself by looking at the things Tom had on his shelves: a few dusty books, a silver chain, a mug that should be brought to the kitchen.

Will slowly walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. “Are you aware I'm a bit mental over you?” His warm breath skated across the sensitive skin of your neck, and your chest constricted.

It took you nearly a full minute before you could respond.

“M-me?”

“No, the other bird in this room,” he chuckled lightly into your ear. “Yes, you.”

He turned you around in his arms, brushing his nose up the side of your face. “So pretty, so sweet.”

You preened at his praise, so caught up in the moment that you forgot what you even came up here for.

Will kissed along your jaw, cupping the back of your head in his large hand.

“Been wanting this for a long time.” He mumbled against the skin of your neck as he walked you back toward Tom's bed, and you let him, melting like putty in his hands.

When your legs hit the bed, he gently pushed you down, lifting your thighs around his hips.

“Tom… this is his bed…” you protested weakly as Will continued to pepper kisses along the side of your neck.

“Tom's a mate; he won't mind.” He slid his hand up the bare skin of your thigh and under your skirt. “Trust me, he won't care.”

You lay back, succumbing to his charm. He smirked, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“So fucking pretty,” he grunted, pressing his clothed cock against your core. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me,” he demanded, sliding his hand up between your thighs.

“I want it… I want you,” you whimpered pathetically.

“They always act like they do,” he smirked, bringing his mouth back to the crook of your neck.

Your brows crumpled in confusion, but before you could say anything, he thrust two fingers into your hot core.

“Ahh oh fuck, Will!” You panted as he started to thrust his fingers in and out, biting and sucking on your neck.

“You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?”

You whimper and manage to get out a weak “Yes” Your head fell back against the bed as he continued with his hand, bringing his thumb to your clit and rubbing circles on the swollen nub.

“Let's get these off, yeah?” He pulled his fingers out of you and slid your thong down your legs, tossing it out of sight.

“Hey!” You reached after it, and he grabbed your wrists, placing them above your head. His long, thin fingers wrapped around your two wrists with ease, locking you in place.

“We'll find them after. Right now… I'm gonna take what I've been after.” He nipped at your earlobe before reaching down with his free hand to hastily shove down his gray joggers.

You didn't even get a chance to see his manhood in all of its glory before he was sweeping the leaking head through your wet folds.

“We need a con—ahh oh fuck!” Your call for protection was quickly cut off as Will thrust into you to the hilt.

“What was that, love?” He panted above you, his silver chain dangling just over your chin. “I didn't hear you.”

As soon as you went to speak, he thrust into you harshly again. “Speak louder, love. Or… I'll have to make you louder.”

“Ah ah ah fuck, Will!” Your head fell back, and your eyes closed as he increased his pace, the headboard of Tom's bed rhythmically smacking the wall.

“Louder,” he growled, his tempo continuing to increase. Your skin grew hot all over your body, a pressure building between your legs unlike anything you had experienced before.

“Come on, love, give it to me.” He bit into the cove between your neck and shoulder. “Be mine.” He reached between your bodies, searching for your nub, the magic button he could use to send you soaring. He made quick work of rubbing you in harsh circles.

“Say it again” he growled directly into your ear. “Say you want me, you would choose me”

Your brain has turned to mush but you tried your best to get the words out. “I want you! Fuuckkkk oh god!” Your back arches as pleasure shoots through your body. Crackling like an electric snap through every limb, vein, every inch of skin heated and charged with and overwhelming pleasure.

“YOU WOULD CHOOSE ME! SAY IT!” he yelled and gripped your thighs pushing them forward changing his angle.

With a hint of desperation you whimper “I would choose you! Everytime! Oh god yes every fucking time!” Your legs clamp around him involuntarily and you dig your fingernails into his shoulders.

It's hot, It's explosive, it's electric and god damn it's good.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as Will gripped your hips harshly, battering your insides, his narrow-minded focus on reaching his end taking over.

“Fuck, pet, you look so pretty when you cum,” he gasped out between hard thrusts.

“You have to pull out,” you whimpered as his eyes rolled back and he dug his fingernails into the fat of your hips.

He pulled out at the very last second, his warm seed splashing onto your lower belly.

“Fucking brilliant,” he panted above you, his hips still jerking slightly. “Wait here; I'll get you cleaned up.” He kissed your forehead and pulled his sweatpants and boxers back up.

You lay on Tom's bed looking up at the ceiling, panting, willing the harsh thrumming in your chest to slow.

He returned with a warm, wet handcloth, gently wiping away the aftermath of your encounter from your skin.

He helped you redress, his hands moving slowly and gingerly as he lifted each scrap of material back over your skin.

The soft gentleness of his touch now, was in stark contrast with the rough grip he had handled you with before.

Just as you went to wrap your arms around him and revel in your newfound closeness, there was a knock on the bedroom door. You rolled your eyes and let out a huff. Of course Tom would come to his room now.

“Go away, Tom,” Will stated curtly, with a small smile curling at the side of his mouth. He pressed his forehead to yours and moved in for a kiss before the knocking resumed at the door.

Will growled under his breath. “Hold that thought, darlin.” He disentangled himself from you and went to the door, whipping it open quickly. “WHA—” his word was cut short when he saw Ghostface in the doorway.

“Run, sweetheart!” Ghostface drove his knife down into Will's chest. The scene was too horrific for you to comprehend.

You brought your hand to your mouth and gasped. This can't be happening.

As Will fell to the floor, Ghostface ascended upon you, and your fight-or-flight response kicked in. As he rushed you, you turned, grabbed the empty mug on the shelf behind you, and smashed it on his head before jumping over the bed.

You cringed as you jumped over Will's motionless body and flung yourself into the hallway.

“HELP!!! SOMEONE HELP!” you screamed through the hallway as you flew down the stairs to find the front door blocked by the wooden TV stand from the living room.

Your eyes quickly landed on the garage door, and you rushed towards it. You could hardly get the door open fast enough before sprinting inside, only to come to a screeching halt.

There before you, crushed under the refrigerator, was blonde hair and copious amounts of blood.

“Leah?” Your voice cracked in agony as you took a tentative step toward the gruesome scene. “Leah, please get up… please… PLEASE!”

Your heart nearly stopped as the garage door started to slowly lift, the clanking of the aluminum material feeling like a fatal chime.

As soon as you saw boots with a slight covering of flimsy black material across the front, you bolted back inside.

The hair stood on the back of your neck as you tried to think of a way to escape. You couldn't go through the blocked front door or the garage. The only option left would be the back door through the kitchen.

You scurried down the hallway with such speed that your feet hardly touched the ground.

As soon as you reached the kitchen, you screamed—a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream—when you felt Ghostface’s cold, clammy hand wrap around your arm.

“GET OFF!!!!” you screamed in sheer terror. You had to get away. Ghostface turned you around to face him, and you were staring directly into that mask. That horrid mask.

“Who… who are you?” You didn't bother trying to hide the trembling in your voice, basically succumbing to the idea that you were going to die right here, right now.

When he pulled his mask off, your jaw dropped to the floor. Tom was staring back at you, a smile on his face. He was smiling. How was he smiling?

“You?” You stopped fighting, suddenly overcome with confusion. “But why? Matt… Matt was your friend! Will was your friend!”

“He needed me to,” the eerie response chilled you to the bone.

“Who?” Your voice came out as a broken whisper.

Tom's face changed from one of deep thought to one of deep rage as he lifted the knife over your chest. “He needed me to be a fucking man! I let him down before, but I won't this time!” He plunged the knife down toward you, and you pushed away with all your might.

As you broke free, the knife swung past you, with a movement so strong you could hear it cutting through the air, you turned to run again, towards the back door, but instead ran directly into a hard chest.

You looked up to see Will looking down at you, a soft look on his face.

“Hey” His voice is soft and he strokes your hair gently. Its completely out of place for this moment.

“Oh thank god! Will! It's Tom! Tom's the killer!” The words tumbled out of your mouth as relief flooded your veins. Surely, Will was going to keep you safe after all you shared earlier.

You felt the sticky wetness of his shirt and looked at your fingers. The blood. There was so much blood.

“How… how are you… how are you standing right now?” You looked up at him, your bodies still pressed tightly together.

Will looked right back down at you, but instead of that cute crooked smile you're used to, there was a smile that set your nerves on edge. There is no love of care in this smile. Just pure mania. You felt his hand slide up the side of your body as he brought a white plastic box to his mouth.

“Surprise, sweetheart.” His voice came out garbled and distorted, and your heart sank down to the bottom of your stomach.

“No… no… this can't… no…” Your voice cracked as your world seemed to cave in around you from all directions.

“But why?” Hot tears streamed down your face as you looked up at him. “Leah? Matt? How… how could you!” You smacked and punched at his chest in frustration.

“Leah chose him over me. Rejected me like it was nothing, like they all do, LIKE EVERYONE DOES!” His voice boomed throughout the room, a sound so foreign.

At a loss for words, you simply stared up at him.

He gripped your chin and tugged your head towards him. “Like you would have done.” He rubbed his thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

“I wouldn't… Will, I swear I wouldn't.” You brought your hands up and held onto his biceps, willing him to believe you. “Please.”

Will chuckled and let go of your chin before reaching into his back pocket and raising his knife above you.

“I know, love. You'll never get the chance.”

To be added to taglist click here

[collapsedglasshouses]

Mine [Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Singer!Reader (female)

SUMMARY: You are Noah's girlfriend and helped him out during the concert, because he lost his voice. After the performance he wants to thank you.

WARNINGS: swearing, SMUT, MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex (P in V) (don’t do that), fingering, (let me know if i missed something)

A/N: Surprise! Two uploads today! This idea came to my mind because of I See Stars and Erra helping the boys out. If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging!

TAGLIST: @measuredingold (LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST)

Today had been entirely different than you originally thought. You visited your boyfriend of almost a year on tour and planned to stay in the background.

Being a well known singer in a band as well, you met the boys over a mutual friend, Jesse Cash. You had met Jesse around three years ago when he helped you and your band write on your new album and even featured on it.

Becoming friends with Jesse made it almost impossible to not meet the boys and you were more than pleasantly surprised of how well you all got along.

You almost immediately clicked with Noah, having this mutual interest in music and creating art while living similar lifestyles.

It almost came naturally how quickly Noah and you got closer. First it started with some hang outs that often included creating music together. Those hang outs quickly turned into self-named "friend dates" and before you really realised it, you were suddenly the "friends" who thought it was totally normal to occasionally make out and have sex.

It took you almost a year to admit your feelings for each other. But when you finally did, you did everything you could to find time for each other.

You two being singers of bands that had the opportunity to blow up over night, made it pretty hard to match schedules.

That is why you were more than relieved when you got a couple of weeks off and decided to join your boyfriend and your friends on their tour.

But when you arrived your happy mood quickly changed. After greeting Folio and Jesse, you asked were your boyfriend was but when you found him, he looked everything but happy.

"Hey, Baby. What’s wrong?" You immediately asked and left your suitcase next to the door before quickly wrapping your arms around him.

Almost instantly he returned your hug while sighing and rested his head against your neck.

"I'm so fucking done." You immediately noticed what the problem was. His voice was hoarse and rough.

"Oh no…" You muttered under your breath and rubbed his back.

"I couldn’t even sing yesterday. We had to cut the set short." He confessed to you and slowly let go of you.

"Why didn’t you tell me? I could have brought my special tea and some goodies to make you feel better, Noah." You asked him and caressed his cheek. A smile crept onto his face. "You know, I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you, too."

The next couple of hours were filled with planning and even thinking about cancelling the show but when you all set down and ate, Jesse had an idea.

"What if we help you sing? You just sing what you can and we all step in when you can’t." He explained and Matt started to nod. You saw how stressed Matt was, trying to make the best out of the suboptimal situations that kept on happening this tour. "That would actually be a great idea. We can ask Devin, too."

"Y/N can step in, too." Jesse than suggested and gave you a careful look. You stopped chewing when you heard that sentence and immediately looked between Noah and Jesse.

This would have been a big step, considering the fan base didn’t really know about yours and Noah's relationship. It wasn’t like you were really secretive about it, a lot of them were even guessing it, since you always seemed to be near each other but you never really confirmed anything. If you would sing tonight, there would be little to no doubt that something was definitely going on, considering the fact that you had no reason to be there otherwise than being close with one of the boys.

Your eyes locked with Noah’s, who seemed to wait for a response from you while you waited for his. When he didn’t speak up, you cleared your through before taking a sip from you water.

"I could, if you want me to." You offered and felt how Noah's hand slipped onto your thigh. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before looking at the others. "I would love that."

Erra had finished their set ten minutes prior and now you started to sweat. You wouldn’t be on that stage until they played Just Pretend and for Dethrone at the end, but your heart was racing.

"Are you okay?" You heard a voice behind you and shortly after felt a hand on your shoulder. Jesse.

You quickly gave him a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Just nervous."

"You know, you don’t have to do it. Devin can step in for you. I can step in for you." Jesse tried to calm your nerves. He knew exactly why you were this nervous.

"No, I'll do it." You reassured him and he nodded. "It’s just scary, you know. It’s always been just Noah and I. We didn’t answer any questions that had to do with our relationship status, we just kept everything to ourselves and this is going to change now."

"You'll be great." Jesse answered you and you quickly gave him a hug.

When you sang the last note of the song, you felt relieve. The applause totally overwhelmed you, when you suddenly felt a hand sneak around your waist. It was Noah. His eyes were shimmering and his smile was the brightest you had ever seen. It had been a complete success.

You had to grin so much that your cheeks started to hurt. It wasn't like you never experienced something like that, but it just felt different to stand on that stage with your boyfriend.

You all bowed to the audience before walking ever so slowly off the stage. As soon as you were backstage, you all fell into each other's arms.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!" Folio exclaimed while slightly jumping up and down. You still couldn't stop smiling. The crowd had been amazing and you had so much fun performing with your boyfriend that you forgot about your concerns entirely. Hell, if you had the option right now you would broadcast to the whole world how much you loved him.

"It was absolutely brilliant." Jolly praised the whole group. Jesse still held onto you before pinching your cheek. "You did so well, I had goose bumps." - "You are one to talk. You sounded so great."

Noah still grinned from ear to ear while looking at you all. "I had so much fun. Thank you all so much for helping me out."

"You did so great, Noah. Even with your not so healthy voice." You praised your boyfriend before giving him a big kiss. He held you close when you broke the kiss again.

When the group made their way to the lounge room, you and Noah walked behind them all. He didn't let go of your hands since you walked off the stage and right now you couldn't be happier.

Right when you were about to catch up to the others, you were dragged into the bathroom that was in the corridor before the lounge. You heard the click of the door, which showed you that it was locked.

"Noah, what-..." You tried to say but you were met with his lips on yours. You instantly felt goose bumps form on your body while he kissed you like you would disappear if he stopped.

"This is your reward, baby." He whispered in your ear and seconds later he softly bit your neck. You could feel how wet you got just from that.

He pressed you against the door and kissed his way back to her face. Before you could even catch a straight thought, he opened your pants and let them slight down your legs while kissing you hard.

"You did so well. You sounded like an angel." He almost moaned into your mouth while his hand found its way into your underwear. You moaned out his name when his fingers found your clit. Even though you already got used to his touches, this time felt so different to you.

His fingers began to circle your clit with swift motions and you felt like you were crumbling into little pieces right in front of him. Your hands found their way into his short hair. At times like this you missed his longer hair, because you couldn't grab onto his shirt hair that easily anymore.

"Fuck. I love you so much." You moaned and let your head fall against the door while you slowly started to shake under his touch.

You almost let out a scream when he suddenly stopped fingering you and instead lifted you onto the bathroom counter in a swift motion. You didn't have the time to react properly because he kissed you again.

"You don't know how much it turned me on, seeing you sing my song on that fucking stage." He groaned into your mouth and pulled your underwear down. "Showing every single one how proud you are to be my girlfriend."

"Fuck, I love being yours." You cried out and started to pull on his tank top to get it off of him.

He smiled at you when you finally got the shirt off of him. "Look at you, so needy." - "Only because of you."

You easily opened his pants, but when you tried to pull them off of him, he grabbed your hands and looked you in the eyes. "This is about you, my love. Not me." - "Please, Noah. I need you."

He stared into your eyes but you couldn't form a clear thought in your head and whined again. "Please, Noah. I haven't felt you in so long."

"Is this really what you want?" He asked you in a deep tone and you still could noticed how rough his voice was. You needed to take care of him later. "Please."

"God, you drive me insane, Y/N." He groaned against your mouth before stepping back to pull his pants and underwear down. You felt a rush of heat run through your body when you saw his hardened cock leaking with pre-cum. You needed him so bad, you almost cried out again.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, while you leaned a bit more over the edge of the counter to get closer to him. He ran a hand through his hair, before stepping between your legs and lining himself with your entrance.

He looked you in the eyes again while slowly sinking into you. You moaned out loudly at the feeling of him inside of you, causing him to press a hand over your mouth.

"Even though I love your voice so much, I don't think the boys should hear this." He whispered to you and you slowly began to nod.

His eyes never left yours as he slowly started to move his hips.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his mouth dropped slightly open. His heavy breaths turned in to quiet moans and you thought you were about to lose your mind at the noises he made.

"You feel so fucking good." He almost cried out, causing you to get goose bumps before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. When his thrusts became harder, you felt his hands squeeze your hips even more. You were sure he would leave bruises.

"I love you so much." You whined when you started to feel your orgasm form in your stomach. His head fell onto your shoulder and you felt him twitching inside of you. He also was close.

"I love you." He moaned in your ear and sent you over the edge with that.

You bit down onto his shoulder to contain your moans while you reached your high, clenching around him.

"Oh God." Noah moaned into your ear while his thrusts became more irregular before you felt his cum spread inside of you.

You both held onto each other, while you came down from your highs, before you started to giggle lightly.

"What?" Your boyfriend asked you and slowly pulled out of you, causing you to whine quietly at the loss of contact.

"What's so funny?" He asked again when he started to clean you up.

"You tell me to be quiet, just to almost scream." You teased him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, when he gave you a shocked look.

With that you jumped of the counter and reached for your clothes, when he grabbed your hips and turned you to face him.

"If you tease me again, I'll make sure, you're the one to scream." He threatened you.

"PLEASE DON'T. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO ENJOY THERE EVENING WITHOUT HEARING A FULL ON PORN FROM NEXT DOOR." You heard Ruffilo shout through the door of the bathroom.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got ready to leave, but before Noah could reach the door, you grabbed his hand and pull him towards you.

You kiss him deeply, before whispering against his lips: "Now, let's get you into bed. I'll take care of you."

"God, I love you."

[sinofwriting]

Made For Each Other - Max Verstappen

Words: 3,486 Summary: Max never put much stock into love at first sight until meeting her. Note(s)/Warning(s): Near Physical Cheating, Some Emotional Cheating (on Kelly not reader). So this is the toxic!max fic I mentioned and uh yeah this isn’t super like toxic but it’s something. Also, I will not apologize for inserting found family into this fic.

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“What?” Max presses his lips together, jaw twitching and he’s happy that P isn’t here, but with Daniil’s parents. “Things haven’t been good for us in awhile.” Maybe ever. He thinks and nearly winces, because they had been good in the beginning. But things had changed halfway through the 2021 season and it had only gotten worse as the weeks and months went on. “Kelly, it is unfair to you for me to pretend that I want to be with you anymore.” He nearly says that once the season was over he was already planning on breaking up with her, but manages to hold his tongue. She’s looking at him in that way that he hates, that’s caused arguments because it reminds him of his father. “What do you want me to tell P?” He can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes him at her easy acceptance. “Tell her that I will always love her and that if she ever wants to talk to me, she can call and I’ll do my best to answer.” “Okay.” Her voice is quiet and she looks around his apartment. “There shouldn’t be much here, but what you do find, have it shipped to me.” “Of course.”

He watches as Kelly walks towards the front door and maybe he shouldn’t say anything, doesn’t want to give her false hope, but he can’t help it. “Kelly.” She stops, her hand on the door knob ready to turn it. “Thank you for the past few years and all your support.” He sees her shoulders move as she sighs. “Your welcome, Max.” And then she turns the handle and walks out of his apartment.

He watches the door for a moment, feeling like if he looks away, suddenly she’ll be back. But the handle doesn’t turn and he’s spinning around to move to the couch where he had thrown his phone when Kelly had unexpectedly come here.

His thumb quickly moves across the screen, opening his last text message thread and sending a simple text.

I broke up with her.

It stares up at him and three dots appear along with those little check marks and he can’t help but smile. And god if the media could see him now, smiling after just breaking up with his girlfriend of so long, they’d use this as some sort of proof that he is the devil.

And now what?

His smile grows and his thumb moves again.

And now I come to you.

—

“You know, I thought you athletes had to train. Keep fit for the season.” She teases as he watches her move around her small kitchen. “I’ve barely been here a day and you’re kicking me out?” She shakes her head at him. “No it’s just I know that China got canceled, but you do have another race soon.” He shrugs, “It’s at the very end of the month. Besides, there's a gym close by. I can go there.” “And did you tell your trainer that you wouldn’t be home so he shouldn’t drop off any food or expect you?” His eyes widened. “Fuck.” He curses, scrambling out of the kitchen and to the bedroom where his phone is, her laughter ringing in his ears.

Calling Brad, he hears the phone ring three times before his trainer picks up. “Hello,” “Hey Brad, uh I’m not home right now. I mean, I’m not in the uh country.” “Did they call you for some testing?” “Uh no. I’m not there either. Just took a bit of a break, so don’t worry about meals or anything.” There’s a bit of silence before Brad speaks again. “Max, is everything alright?” “Yeah, yes. Everything is fine. I just needed a bit of a break. I’ll see you in Milton on the twenty-first, yeah?” “Sure.” “Great.” And Max hangs up the call, feeling a bit like a hurricane.

“You’ve made me go crazy.” He tells her when he sees her standing in the door of the bedroom, raising an arm when she doesn’t move. She immediately moves into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist, as his arm wraps around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Have I?” “Yes. Meeting you has made me crazy.” “Do you regret it?” “No.” The answer is swift and firm, because no he could never regret it.

So much had changed since he had seen her for the first time just barely two weeks ago. Most of those changes happened in the past forty-eight hours. But he liked those changes.

He liked how he felt ever since she first looked at him, shook his hand, said his name. Liked how she made him smile and laugh. Maybe it was fucked but he liked how in Austrailia when he won and he nearly kissed her at the afterparty, she had to press her hand on his chest and hold him back. Remind him that he had a girlfriend. Had to stop him from pulling out his phone to call her and break up with her right then and there. Liked that despite that, she had taken his unlocked phone, added her number and told him to text her. Pressed her lips to his cheek and let the scent of her bury itself in his brain. He liked that when he first texted her asking when he could see her again, she hadn’t asked who, just told him they could talk when he was single. Liked that barely a day later he had texted her telling her he was and now he was here, with her, in her home.

Max loved however, her. The way she kissed him when he showed up at her doorstep. The then slight shyness she had over her giving him her number and her text, though there was no guilt or apology to be found in her words. Just more disbelief that she had done so. How she smelled, her house smelled. The way she sat, how her fingers brushed over his skin. How passionate she was about her job, about the music she listened to, and the candle that sat beside her bathtub.

And so it comes out. “I love you.”

He shouldn’t be saying it. People would and will call him crazy for it, but he knows himself. He knows what he’s feeling. And he loves her. Loves this woman that he hasn’t even known for a month. And fuck, people like to talk about how love at first sight doesn’t exist and you don’t know when someone is the one immediately or so soon after meeting them, but that isn’t true. There are outliers. He’s got a cousin that married her husband barely a year after dating him and they are happier than any couple he’s ever seen. One of the guys he grew up karting with met his girlfriend and a month later they were moving in together. He thinks they have three kids or maybe it’s four now.

And she, she feels like he was made for her and only her.

“I love you too.” The words aren’t whispered, no shame or doubt on them. Just certainty and he doesn’t know that she’s thinking the same thing. That she was made just for him.

—

She doesn’t come to the next race no matter how much he begs. Even when he’s about to run late for his flight back to the factory, head buried her neck as he pleads with her to come. But she only laughs, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“You just barely made a statement about no longer being with Kelly.” And he kind of hates that there’s no distaste in her voice about him having a girlfriend when they met. He knows that if she had been seeing someone his blood would be boiling everytime his name got brought up or even hinted at. “Give it a bit to settle.” He straightens with a bit of frown, “I won’t hide you.” She laughs, eyes lighting up and it makes him smile. “I’m not asking you too. Just for patience. I don’t want your PR team to end up hating me.” “Miami, then?” She shakes her head, pushing him away. “You have a plane to catch, Max.” “Imola?” He asks, backing up. Eyes widening a bit when she shakes her head again. “Monaco?” “Max!” And she’s laughing again. “Spain?” And this time she nods her head and he groans, picking up his duffel bag that’s been sitting by the door for probably thirty minutes now. “That is so fair away. You will make me wait that long?” “Oh, poor baby. Having to wait just a little over a month.” He pokes his bottom lip out, unashamed to pout. Because yes, not having her with him for the next four races sounded like torture. He had only gotten a taste of what her support was like in Australia. He wanted all of it now.

She must see that on his face because her smile turns fond, no more teasing and she’s capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “It will go by faster than you think, Max. And it gives me enough time to get everything situated so I can really be comfortable working from anywhere in the world.” “So, you’ll join me for the rest of the season?” “Yes.” He grins, pressing their lips together once, then twice. “If it does not go by fast like you say,” She stops him before he can continue. “Go, Max, it will. And I’m always a call away.”

—

The press eagerly awaits Max’s arrival in Baku. Hoping to see the two time world champion, downtrodden, miserable, regretful. Instead they get an even better story. He arrives at the track on the phone laughing, smile wide and body relaxed. It wasn’t the image of a man who had just separated from his girlfriend of a few years. It was the image of a man happier than he ever had been before.

They all want to ask questions, want to ask who he’s talking to, what or who perhaps has him smiling. Why did he and Kelly break up? Did he break up with her? Did she with him? But none of them are willing to risk the odd relationship that Red Bull has with the press, kind even generous until you cross the line.

—

“No more races without you.” He murmurs when she arrives at his hotel in Spain, his breath causing goosebumps to appear on her neck. “No more.” She agrees, before pulling slightly away, just so they can look at each other. “Hi.” She greets. He smiles at her. “Hi.” “Congrats on Monaco.” He huffs, but something warm fills him with her words. “You said that on the phone.” “That was on the phone.” She teases, before lifting her arms to loop them around his neck. “Proud of you, Max.” He doesn’t know how to respond to that, to how sincere her words are, so he presses their lips together.

“I love you.” She breathes when they break apart, panting slightly with shiny and swollen lips. “I love you too.”

—

The camera's shuttering intensifies as soon as Max’s car that he was given for the race weekend arrives at the track on Saturday. And it only gets worse when instead of just locking the car and starting his walk to the red bull garage, he rounds to the other side, opening the passenger door and helping a woman get out.

This woman is not one that any of them recognize. She is not Max’s mother or sister. She is not Kelly or some sort of model, super, instagram, or swimsuit. And even better they don’t recognize this Max. Who as soon as she is out of the car, purse in hands, shuts the door for her, which is fairly typical for him. But what is not is the way he presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss, before snaking an arm around her waist, a sort of love sick smile on his face as they begin the walk.

“I can’t believe you wanted me to come to one of these things earlier.” She murmurs to him, giving a wave to all the cameras. If she was going to do this, be with Max, she’d have to get used to them and quickly. “I still wish you had.” He murmurs back, squeezing her waist and turning his head to press his nose quickly to the top of her head. “Did you tell anyone about me or that I was coming?” She asks, though she already has a feeling what the answer is as they move further into the paddock and sees some of the drivers do double takes. He smirks, “now why would I do that?” She shakes her head, “your PR team is going to kill you and I’m going to watch.” Her eyes then catch on a slightly familiar man who’s looking at Max with murder in his eyes and she amends her statement. “Daniel is going to kill you and I’m going to watch.” Max pales slightly as he takes a look at the man she only knows from his stories and a few brief clips she’s seen on youtube.

As soon as they enter Red Bull’s hospitality for the weekend, Daniel pounces. Dragging Max and her since Max refuses to let go of her, to Max’s drivers room.

When the door closes, Daniel shoves Max though she expects more gently than he normally would due to her and stands in front of the door, hands on his hips, anger and disappointment warring on his face.

“Max.” “Daniel.” He replies, though it's a bit meek and she can’t help but give his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and stepping away. Not returning to his side despite the offended and hurt look he gives her. She shakes her head. “I told you that you could tell people.”

Daniel turns to look at her, giving her a quick grin. “I like you.” He declares before turning back to Max, grin gone.

“Seriously Max. First there was Kelly and you breaking up, which I found out through social media and you still haven’t told me how that whole thing went down.” She winces at the exasperation in Daniel’s voice. She knew from Max how close they were, considering themselves brothers just about and she couldn’t imagine how Daniel felt learning about Max’s breakup from social media and not the man himself.

“And now this!” He waves his hands around between her and Max. “I’m sure you're great.” He tells her quickly and she gives him a sheepish smile. “I mean really Max. What gives?” Max stares at the older man, unsure of what exactly to say to him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t think the people he was closest to weren’t going to have a reaction to the news of his breakup and now new relationship. It’s just that besides Daniel none of them had really reached out wanting to know what happened because they were all right with not knowing. They knew that if Max wanted to talk about it with them, he would. But Daniel was different.

He talked to Daniel about everything. A side effect of the older man having to deal with him as a teammate for those few years when he was so young and trying to really figure himself out. They had developed a different kind of relationship. One where he knew that he could go to Daniel with anything and everything and receive no judgment, only support. Daniel to him was a weird cross of a friend, brother, and father.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes and his hands tighten into fists a little. Always unsure of himself when apologizing. “I should have called. Told you, explained what happened.” He hesitates, but knows that Daniel deserves the truth. “I nearly did.” And wasn’t that the truth. There were many times he nearly called or texted Daniel to tell him about the stunning girl he saw, then met, then nearly kissed, then got together with. But he hadn’t. He knew if he told Daniel, he’d end up telling everyone. Daniel stares at him, face giving away nothing, making him fidget, before he sighs and gives Max a smile. “It’s all good mate. You’re a bit of a cunt. But,” he shrugs, grinning. “You’ve always been like that.” Max lets out a laugh, relaxing at the familiar energy of Daniel. “Yeah, just a bit.”

He turns to look at his girlfriend, who's looking between the two of them with a smile, beckoning her back to his side. Enjoying how she easily fits into his side. “Daniel, this is my girlfriend,” and he knows his voice is lovesick when he says her name with the way Daniel looks at him. “Darling, Daniel.” “It’s nice to meet you, Daniel. Max talks about you a lot.” Daniel’s eyes flicker to Max, expecting some sort of an embarrassment or denial, but the younger man just nods. And that’s good enough for Daniel, who immediately grins at her before pulling her into a hug. “Nice to meet you as well. Max treating you well? I taught him everything he knows.” He tells her with a wink when he releases her. She lets out a small giggle at his words, but nods. “Very well. And thank you for your services.” She winks, making Daniel laugh.

“Oh, you are amazing. Now, tell me how this happened and what happened with Kelly.” He says gesturing between the two of them, sitting on the folding chair in the room, while they sit on the couch. “They are very much connected.” She laughs, before patting Max on the arm and sitting back fully.

“Oh, no.” Max groans, running a hand over his face. Daniel was going to have a fucking laugh. “So, we met a little before the Australian Grand Prix. Nearly had an incident there.” He tilts his head towards her and Daniel nods, understanding what he’s saying. “I actually nearly broke it off there. She managed to stop me however. But when I got home to Monaco, I broke up with Kelly then and there. Was already planning on doing it at the end of the season.” Daniel nods. “You mentioned that before.” “Yeah.” Max sighs, before telling him the rest.

Daniel stares at him for a moment after he's done before shaking his head, with a sort of breathless laugh. “Only you, Max. Only you. I’m happy for you though.” Max smiles at the older man’s easy acceptance. “Thank you.” “PR’s going to kill you for not giving them any warning.” He rolls his eyes, she had been telling him the same thing. “They won’t do anything. Besides, didn't they want me to be more personable?” “Don’t think this is what they meant or had in mind.” She tells him. “Probably hoping you’d vlog. Do what Charles and Lando do.” His nose wrinkles at the idea, making her and Daniel laugh.

—

“You’re good for him.” Daniel murmurs as they watch qualifying. She turns her head a little, still keeping most of her focus on the track. “Think so?” “Know so.” He corrects, taking a moment to flash her a smile. “Max and Kelly,” he sighs. “They had a lot of issues.” She says for him. “Wanted different things or the same things but not at the same time.” “Yeah,” the older man breathes, feeling at ease with how much she knows. “She made him happy at first ya know? But you,” he pauses to shake his head. “You make him into the person I think he would’ve been without Jos. Relaxed, at ease, happy.” His voice is a little quieter with the last word and she has to blink so she doesn’t start to cry. “I want him to be happy. And I know we fell into this fast, but Max.” She sighs, feeling a smile stretch across her lips as her heart flutters in her chest all at his name, at the thought of him. “I was made for him.” Daniel chuckles, taking in the infatuated, lovesick, expression on her face. It was the same look he had seen earlier on Max. It was nice to see that it really did go both ways. “There might be some fuss around it, but it’ll die down eventually.” He hesitates not wanting his next words to seem to much, but thinks fuck it. They went to the extremes here, and she’d have to get used to it fast with Max, if she wasn’t already. “I’ll message a few drivers that I know will support you and Max. We’ll have your guys back with the media or anyone else.” His support and approval make her reach out, squeezing his forearm for a few seconds. “Thank you, Daniel. It means the world to me.”

---

Tagging: @lapb @gemofthenight @peachiicherries

[goldsbitch]

That next Christmas flight

epilogue p.1 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Few months down the line, Y/N is getting onto the same Christmas flight as a completely changed girl.

warning: cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Another Christmas flight. Traditions linger long and strong no matter how much one tries to resist. It's been a year precisely since the last flight that had turned her life upside down and Y/N found herself standing at the same airport where she shared a first kiss with Lando. Except this time she was thrown off for a completely less glamorous reason, sitting all confused and looking at the cancelled note next to her flight number on the departure board. She was just one of the other anxious annoyed passangers, trying to figure out how to get to Japan on time. Her mom hated when people were late. And she was sure she'll find a way to blame it on her. Bad planning, she'd always say. Love comes in different flavors to anyone, Y/N sighed, looking forward to seeing her mom after so many months, which had brought a rollercoaster of unexpected emotions.

She has had the summer of her life, hard to imagine something topping this one. The ultimate love affair - exciting, sweet and eye opening. Made her question everything she thought about adult life. All those love song suddenly made sense. She understood why people do crazy things for love. There wasn't a cell in her body regretting getting her summer and early September got stolen by one guy. It would not have mattered if he was a server from a local café or a tattoo artist, he just happened to be one of the most famous racing drivers on the planet. She had followed him around his trips as long as her school schedule allowed, making new friends in the process and generally exploring a different way of life. Sometimes, she had to stop in order to take it all in, because his world shined just a little too bright. It took all of her free time to keep up. Once summer rolled to its very end, it started being harder for the pair. Coming back to the school environment was somewhat of a culture shock and suddenly her having her own life was making it harder to drop everything and meet him at yet another race track around the world. Their schedules seemed to be working against each other. Late night cuddles turned into late night / morning calls. Summer romance got a real hard test that October and was forced to mature real quick. And sadly, very few love affairs manage to survive this leap.

There are little things that people in love do for each other. One does not often realize that the other person had been doing these mundane gestures until they are out of sight. Lando would always put Y/N's airpods on the charger when they were together, because he knew that she would just never do that and then would complain about it endlessly. He was even looking forward to the annoyed text she'd send him two days after they parted, almost on the clock. Y/N never learned. Nor did she want to.

Y/N airpods were sitting in the pocket of her coat. Fully charged. Lando and Y/N had never spent more time together than this winter break. After few rough weeks, they got used to the changing tone of their relationship. She finally met his family and spent few very fun days at their house. Lando made fun of her afterwards, because she had been so nervous to fuck it up. He never doubted that she would do a good impression - he loved too much to think that.

Pair of hands hugged her from behind and the familiarity kicked in.

"Thought you got lost, honey," she greeted her boyfriend and potentially the love of her life (spoiler alert - yes, he really was).

"I actually kind of did, I'm sure there must be a bathroom closer that all the way back that hallway," he said, kissing her cheek softly. She was taking him home to Japan to get him introduced to her mom, which made him the proudest guy at that airport. He was worthy of getting introduced and to him, that was the biggest compliment one could give. It had been quite a hectic Christmas break for Lando so far, if he were to be honest, he was happy to get few hours alone with Y/N. On the outside, he was this cool racer chill dude. But he was also a sappy romantic, absolutely insisting on having them celebrate their anniversary on the same flight. Y/N grounded him, kept him at bay in the best way possible. He felt like the best version of himself. Which was also what he told her when they almost broke up over the phone one confusing November night. Their relationship was cut with difficult conversations and the need to untangle things, but it was strangely something Lando loved about their relationship. No stones left untouched, caring so much about each other that any shift in energy was a signal to the other party. Y/N taught him to notice things. He pushed her into making her feelings known.

"My love, our flight is cancelled for today," she said softly, not really knowing what to do. Lando usually had his travel booked by the team, so he was surprisingly not very skilled in booking things anymore. But he longed for any possibility to be the hero that saved the day, so he got to the counter and got them on tomorrow's flight, with an overnight at a hotel.

Y/N let out a sigh once he told her that there is currently no other option. She just wanted to be at her mom's place and show Lando off, like a proper proud girlfriend she was.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, caressing her cheek. "I'll make sure you have an absolutely amazing evening with me, ok? Honestly, getting to spend an extra night with you alone is the best thing I could wish for." She looked at him and there was not a single cell in her body that would doubt what he was telling her. Even after months, every time Lando looked at her, her heart skipped a beat. Every time he embraced her, she completely melted. His skin still felt like the softest thing on this planet. His eyes were the bluest of green that had her mesmerised whenever he shared a glance at her. "There is nothing better I could wish for Christmas either," she said, kissing him softly. "Let's get to the hotel, give your mom a quick call, order a champagne and cuddle without letting anyone else know we're still in England," he whispered like a little devil on her shoulder.

"Hm, maybe we can cuddle like really fast," she insunuated, setting Lando's imagination on fire.

"I have many ideas, honey."

"Good, write them down."

"This will hardly ever skip my mind," Lando laughed lightly and the pair took off, with him having his shoulder around her, both of them hiding their faces under a cap. They soft launched their relationship in the middle of the summer, but there was still a cloud of mystery around Y/N, as she had made sure to set her socials on private. No more of a little secret hidden in a hotel room. Still, privacy was an important thing to the pair, that's why there was a whole fake social media trip happening for Lando right now to redirect attention.

So there they were, toasting with the same champagne a year later, lives intertwined and with their own set of Christmas traditions forming. Two young people with souls still undamaged by the tragedies of life, two young people not realizing how light and magical part of their life they got to call today and tomorrow. Next time you're flying somewhere, don' be a chicken and talk to your hot neighbor on the plane. You never know.

____________________________________________

personal note: thank you so much for all the support you guys gave me for this one, it has grown into my favorite story so far - mainly because I got to put in my own memories and feelings from when I accidentally started dating a semi famous sports guy while having no idea who he was, lol. it was in no way lando level kind of famous, but still, it is a great memory, so thank you for reliving it with me.

there will be blurbs of these two coming in the future, but i wanted to tie the main story to an end. but I can't wait to write more, so i'll be more than happy if you come back for some snap shots of their little moments. thank you - smutty epilogue p2. is on the way

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak  @ophcelia @leclerc13 @starmanv @k4r1402 @biitch-with-wifi @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @starmanv @formulaal @scenesofobx

[animelovelover123]

V's Yandere Alphabet v2.0

Synopsis: An updated and improved version of my original with more content. For those who have read the original, the big changes can be seen in entries L, P, Q, V, X, and Y.

Author's Note: I wrote the original during a troubling time and it resulted in the project taking 6 months and me hatting it by the end. However, after being encouraged by someone asking me if I would write for the other guys and my completionist side being bugged by how the original alphabet was not complete, I went back in and felt more motivated. I actually kind of want to write for the other guys now! Still no promises though.

The yandere alphabet I am using is an edited version of one made by no gender bee on tumblr. I added missing letters, changed some of the letters/descriptions, and altered some of the grammar (like using Canadian spelling).

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction for personal entertainment. If you are reading this, please understand that drawing/writing/reading/imagining things of this nature does NOT equate to desiring or supporting real-world assault.

Abuse = Could they ever hurt you physically or mentally? What would be the reason?

Physically? No. Mentally, kind of. He would not do it with the intent of causing harm, but some of V’s mental manipulation can hurt. He’ll pull at your heartstrings, saddle you with guilt, and talk in circles to get you to comply with his wishes all while using flowery language to mask the manipulative web he is weaving.

A big one, and the most common form of mental strain he gives you, is when he is desperate for attention and at the end of his rope. He will plead for it, reminding you that neither of you knows how long he has left to live and that he only wants to spend it with you. He does this to show you how much you mean to him, but he is also aware that he is inciting guilt in you. He does not realize how deeply and long it can affect you though until you tell/show him.

Both = You are a Yandere too, what’s their reaction?

V is intrigued and finds it amusing at first. His obsessive tendencies take longer to form, and he also does not believe he will live long so he sees your invasive and manipulative actions as entertaining with no fear of long-term repercussions. Even if you think you are being sneaky, he sees everything you are doing and he enjoys watching your reactions as he either plays along with your schemes or effortlessly evades them.

But once he finds himself falling for you in return, he gets rather depressed. He sees how desperately you want him, yet he knows, no matter how much he wants you as well, that all of your attempts to show your love will be in vain. He’ll try to pull away from you, but the more you chase, the more he wants you.

Then he finds out a way to live longer and his restraints are finally broken. You and he revel in your shared obsession, happily lavishing each other with love and attention. He sees your quirks and views them as romantic gestures. He finds out you have been stealing his things? How it warms his heart to know you want him close at all times even when home alone. Why don’t we move in together darling to save you the trouble? You’ve cancelled his plans with others behind his back? Well, why didn’t you tell him you wanted a night alone? He would love nothing more. You’ve killed a supposed love rival? Snuffing out another's life just because they threatened to take his love, though not necessary as you already have his heart, is such a beautiful display of adoration that he just has to give you a reward~

Crazy = How easy do they enter crazy mode? How do they act when they are in it?

It takes a lot for this man to snap. He is the essence of calm and collected, able to keep his composure in circumstances where most would panic and/or become angry. You could rage at him before walking out the door claiming you will never return, and though he will put up a bit of a fight, he knows deep down that you are just lashing out. After you have time to calm down you will be back in his arms soon enough. Whether by your own means or his, that was yet to be seen. This man could be in the middle of getting arrested and he would comply because he knows that this is not the end. He could easily escape prison and find his way back to you. The only true end is death, and that is what will cause him to snap.

Not his own death per se as that mental break will be directed and contained to himself. If his plan for extended life starts failing, he will fight tooth and nail to survive while rushing through the stages of grief. The most this will affect you is that he will disappear for a while as he tries to find a solution before returning when he realizes there is no hope for him and begs you to stay with him until his last breath.

The true snapping point would be a result of your life almost being lost, particularly if you try to take your own. Knowing or, worse, catching you trying to end your life flips a switch in him. He already had a lot of stress from trying to preserve his own life, but when he realizes that he could lose the primary reason he fought so hard to live all of that effort, panic, and stress gets funneled into caring for you. Now that he perceives a proverbial ticking clock for both of your lives, he will no longer allow a single second to go by without you. He will lock you up in his home and become your caretaker, tying you up so you can’t hurt yourself and taking care of all of your needs himself like feeding you and bathing you. You are his everything, and he will not let a second of both of your possibly short lives not be spent together. (see Kidnapped)

Difference = When can you notice a difference in behaviour in them? What are the first signs that their love for you is unhealthy?

At first V’s yandere tendencies were subdued and easily hidden. For the first couple months of knowing you he was under the belief that he was not long for this world. His body was actively deteriorating and soon he would have to return to Vergil.

But then he found a way that he could continue living as his own person. Maybe through killing and absorbing Urizen’s life force rather than merging with it or by somehow stealing it from others. Either way, there was a chance for him to survive and pursue a relationship with you. That is when he changed and that is when you start noticing his obsession with you.

He won't totally indulge in his attraction to you until he has proof that this lead is viable, but he will suddenly become more affectionate. Where he once kept any compliments and flirtatious remarks shrouded in flowery language so that you could not quite tell if he meant it that way became more direct and regular. The few feet he always put between you two was shorted as much as you would allow.

When he does gain evidence that his plan for a longer life is working, all restraints are off. He immediately goes to you and confesses his love. He may even tell you right then his true origins, why they resulted in him being distant at first, and how now that he has a long life ahead of him he is excited to spend it with you.

Enjoy = Do they enjoy what they’re doing to you, your life and the people around you? Do they show it?

V does worry about how some of his actions affect you. He is a bit of a philosopher type, often getting lost in thoughts or conversations about the deeper meanings and effects things have on people and the world as a whole. He is also introspective so he will occasionally worry himself over what he is doing. This line of thought doesn’t only trigger when you show hints of discomfort or hesitation. You could be perfectly happy, but he is privy to the manipulation and trickery of his that you are falling for. He considers and speculates on how his actions could warp your mind in the long run. And when he pictures the worst-case scenario, he might just guilt himself into admitting to, and apologizing for, a recent misconception he gave you.

He did not say those things with malicious intent, he just wanted to protect you from the cruel world and keep you loving him.

Force = What, if any, kinds of things will they force on you? Isolating from friends and family? Going on dates? Physical affection and/or sexual acts?

If you are a demon, to any extent, V will force you into a contract with him, assuming he is unsuccessful in his initial attempt at convincing you to join willingly. Depending on your battle prowess he will even call you to (relatively easy) fights along with his other familiars. Seeing you in battle is just as beautiful as seeing you dance to him so he will gladly do it as long as the risk of permanent harm is practically nonexistent. No matter how skilled you are in combat though, your primary duty as one of his demons is as a companion. With you being bound to him he can call you to him whenever he wishes to be with you, which is most of the time. He’ll try to offer you space and as much free will as he can, but the more obsessed he becomes the more he will abuse this power over you. One thing to note though is that he will not force you into romantic or sexual acts, even if he technically could through your contract. No matter how much he desired you, he would never hurt you in that way.

Alternatively, say you were a human. He would force you, again assuming you don’t fall for his flowery words, to take on a demon familiar. Not just any demon though. Specifically, he wants you to bond with one of his familiars. If you want more than that that is your prerogative, the more safety you have and empowerment you feel is only a boon, but being partially bonded to one of his familiars is his requirement. He tells you that he wants to keep you safe by giving you access to one, or more, of his demons for protection, and this is true. Though V is their primary master, V will willingly put himself at a disadvantage in battle by allowing you to call one of his familiars for protection. And if you don’t call them V will send them to you. He also advertises the practical benefits of having creatures at your beck and call. One aspect that he does not fully disclose though is how being bonded to a demon under his command also acts as a tracking device for when you try to run. (See Hide)

Gross = What is something they think is really romantic/sweet but is actually horrifying?

He writes letters and notes to you using his blood as ink. Sometimes it is just his signature coloured burgundy, and other times you find whole notes or poems scrawled in thin, inconsistently faded cursive which he delivers to your home or work with a bandaged arm.

He already puts his heart and soul into these letters. To him, offering part of his body with them shows you his complete devotion.

Hide = How easy is it to hide from them?

Depends on if he has bound you to one of his familiars yet.

First, let's assume he hasn't. Then, honestly, it’s pretty easy as he is but one man with not a lot of connections. He can send out his familiars to scan the area for you, but they can not go too far from V. That is only if he works alone though because the few connections he does have are with people who hunt down living creatures as their profession. Sure, hunting a demon is not quite the same as hunting a person down and his friends will initially question why you would run off, but V just has to string together a tail of how you are being influenced by a denizen of hell and that they must find you before it is too late. Sure enough, he will convince the morally just crew of demon hunters to find his love and now half a dozen people are calling in favours and travelling the country looking for you. And when they do find you, even if you try to tell them that you ran away from V willingly, V’s story has already cemented itself in their brains so they will drag you back anyway. A caveat to this plan is that the crew will get more and more suspicious if you run away multiple times and V keeps asking them for their help.

One of the benefits of binding you to one of his demons is that he won't have to risk growing doubt within his friends. With you bound to one of his demons (see Force), no matter where in the world you run V can track your location by getting his familiar to appear around you, scan the area to gather information, and relay it to him. And when he is close enough, the familiar can just pin you down and call out like a siren so V can easily find you.

Improve = Will they be willing to recover from this psychotic state for their lover?

Working off of E for Enjoy, V can find the conviction to be better for you. The problem is that he does not really know how to be better. He has only existed as his own entity for a relatively short time and has no experience with having a healthy relationship. He has only ever had you and the, sometimes maddening, urges to be with you. But because of his overwhelming love for you and the fear that his actions risk harming you, he will work towards being better.

He has to look to healthier relationships, like Nero and Kyrie’s and what little memories of Sparda and Eva’s he retains from Vergil, to understand what they look like and how he himself is failing. And if he can’t make the headway he wishes, being unable to stop himself from telling you subtle lies and trying to monopolize your attention, he will talk to someone about his feelings and urges. He understands that he does not yet really understand how to be human and is not above asking for aid in learning, for his own well-being yes, but mostly for yours.

Justification = Why are they acting like this? When and how did it start?

Upon being created, V knew that he did not have long to live. Soon he would join with Urizen and become Vergil once more. When he first started to fall for you, he knew it would not last due to his minuscule lifespan so would not pursue a romantic relationship. He could not, however, stay away from you. You were like a work of art, so utterly perfect that it was a miracle you even existed in such a cold and cruel world. He tried to accept the brief moments of connection you shared as enough to have him return to Vergil without regrets, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

His body was failing though, crumbling away. Perhaps when he becomes whole again Vergil will be able to be with you. But that would not be the same for you or V, and he knew that.

And then, he found a way to continue living as his own person (See Difference). Now he had a chance to have a life with you. But always lurking in the back of his mind is the fear that this means of sustaining his body and life will fail. He does not know when he will disappear or how quickly it could take him. This is why he needs to always be with you. He doesn’t know how much time he has left and he wants to spend as much of it with you as he can. You understand, don’t you darling?

Kidnap = Are they willing to kidnap you? If so, how will they do it? For how long will they keep you and where?

He will kidnap you if you make the drastic decision to try to end your own life (see Crazy). He has given you the freedom to do what you want, far more than most yanderes would, despite the dangers in the world because he trusted you and himself to keep you safe. But now that even you are a danger to yourself, that shattered any trust V had.

When he finds out what you were trying to do, whether it be through catching you in the act or finding out in the aftermath of a failed attempt, he will bring you to his home. He will tell you, and anyone else privy to your attempt, that he wanted to give you a safe place where you can be monitored, rest, and offer an ear to which you can discuss your feelings and thoughts without judgment. And with him being your partner, if other people knew of your attempt, they would trust him to watch over you and stop you from trying this again. And that was exactly what he would do.

So you spend the night with V in his home where he refuses to leave your side for more than a minute at a time. It was understandable though, right? He was just shaken from what you tried to do. But when you woke up you found your wrists belted together, as were your ankles, and were chained to the bed’s headboard and one of the bed’s end legs respectively.

“My love, you are awake.” V greets as he enters the room, a bowl of oatmeal in his hand. “How wonderful it is to see your beautiful eyes finally open.” You can ask him what is going on, but no matter if you question him in fear, anger, or confusion, he will smile sympathetically as he helps you sit up. “I know this may be a bit frightening my dear, but this is all for your safety. You have somehow come to the heartbreaking and erroneous belief that you should not live and have become a danger to yourself because of it. But worry not, for I love you unconditionally and will care for you in your stead. Now, open up~” He coos as he holds out a spoonful of oatmeal.

V keeps you bound for as long as it takes for him to trust you not to attack him. Still, whenever he leaves the house he chains you to the bed to make sure you don’t try anything. Soon enough he stops going out, instead spending every waking moment coddling you. He feeds you by hand, dresses you, bathes you, and loves you through any bout of emotions, be they positive or negative. You don’t get to step foot outside until after you are knocked out by drugs and discreetly transferred to a new home out in some forest. Once there he will be willing to take you on walks, if you can prove you can behave. Even if you do try to escape though, the forest is enchanted so any human without a demon guide will be lost to endlessly loop through the same areas.

After years of living like this and proving that you don’t intend to leave him or harm yourself, you may just be lucky enough to find out how V was able to keep you locked up and disappear without anyone coming to look for you. You see, your friends and family were devastated when they heard from V that you had killed yourself by running off into a demon nest and letting yourself be eaten. And then it was unfortunate but unsurprising when V, now without the love of his life, spiraled into depression, became a recluse, moved away from the city where he and his love spent their time together, and soon after joined you in the afterlife.

“What a tragic tale, isn’t it dear?” He asks you with a proud smile on his face as he feeds you your lunch.

Lonely = They are feeling lonely but you are busy with something else, what will they do?

V is a patient man. If you are busy with an activity or responsibility, he will wait patiently for you to finish. He has his limits though (See Non-Stop). Also, depending on how urgently the task must be done or the rules regarding it, V would like to get involved.

“What are you doing my songbird? Watching something? May I join you?” “What is that craft you are making? How fascinating… Would you do me the honour of teaching me how to do it?” “What are you so furiously researching love? I would so dearly like to hear all about it, and perhaps I can help you search.”

V wants to learn everything he can about you and be involved with your interests and hobbies. And even if you are doing something that he can not assist in, such as writing a paper for school or work, then he will still insert himself by delivering to you snacks, drinks, messages, or simply his silky voice reading out his poetry to calm you and act as white noise while you focus. As long as it does not harm you or put you in danger, then V wants to support you and uplift you in any way he can.

Moving On = If you die or escape, will they be able to move on? How easy will it be for them?

You are his light, his world, and the number one reason that he fought to stay alive. If you were to leave him, he would be devastated. With you gone so is his will to live, and so he will follow you into the beyond. However, one deciding factor for how he will come to his end is how you met yours. If it was some unforeseen tragedy then he would chase after you into the next world immediately. But if your death was in any way his doing, he would drag out his death. Whether it be through starvation or letting his body deteriorate, whichever was more painful and a fitter punishment for the sins he has committed.

Alternatively, if you were to escape and he could not find you, his will would slowly drain. He would spend more time and energy looking for you and despairing over not being able to find you, he would neglect what he needs to do to stay alive. Slowly his failing body would wither away or, if the option is still available, he may just make a last-ditch effort to become whole again. He knows that death would be an easier option than reforming, but his lingering feelings may unconsciously drive Vergil to keep looking for you and you wouldn’t hide from Vergil, right? Knowing you were at least alive would give V’s broken heart and soul some levity while it rotted away somewhere inside Vergil.

Non-Stop = How clingy will they be when you’re in a relationship? How possessive are they? And how much free space do they give you?

V will give you a great deal more space than most yandere’s. He is fine with you spending time with others, whether he is present or not. He will even allow you to go on multiple-day-long trips, like road trips or vacations, with others. Seeing you happy and hearing you excitedly recount your outings was a joy in it of itself for him. Hearing you talk with exuberance and seeing your radiant smile as you describe the event you attended, the activity you did, and the conversations you had was just enough to make missing you worth it. It also helps that he is an introvert so is more than okay with spending some time for himself.

There is a limit to this though. If you have a job or attend school then he can get by with having you in the morning and evening. He will encourage you and praise you for your hard work before and after each day while enjoying having you all to himself. But if, on top of this, you are going out with friends two or three days a week then he’ll get antsy. He won’t get in the way, but he will get a bit needy and clingy, doing things like wanting to walk you to and from places just to spend more time with you and inviting you on more dates and activities to offset how much you go out with others.

But if others try to take up more of your time than that, V will become a lot more proactive. Suddenly you start ‘forgetting’ your phone in the other room all the time, meaning you miss calls and texts. Your calendar and alarms start messing up more, giving you incorrect times and dates causing you to miss events. V seemingly becomes more worried about your well-being. Do you have a bit of a cough? Feeling warmer than usual? A bit of a headache? Well, then it is best if you stay home. Even if it seems small now, exserting yourself by going out could just make things worse. Besides, the weather report said it might rain. So just rest at home today, V will be there to care for you.

Other = Someone else speaks to or flirts with you, how will they react?

V is usually very confident and trusting of you to not betray him so does not mind when others speak to you. He doesn’t blame the person either because you are a truly fascinating person that V can’t get enough of, so others wanting to get to know you is only logical. Other’s flirting with you is usually a similar story, as he trusted you implicitly. But that does not mean he is always complicit. If you or the person give him a reason to worry, such as you seemingly reciprocating that flirtation or the person overstepping boundaries, then V will act.

It won’t be a full-on assault, physically or verbally, it will be a subtle, insidious poison that he seeps into the bothersome person. Through his words he will gracefully belittle and insult the person while showcasing his superior knowledge and sharp wit. Most of his comments don’t even immodestly register as insults, instead, they will weigh the person down bit by bit until their confidence is but dust in the wind and they realize that they have no chance in besting V in his control over your heart.

Persistent = You have rejected/ignored their first attempts at gaining your attention. How many more times will they try and how quickly will their actions ramp up in intensity?

Before discovering a means of sustaining himself, he will see your rejection or obliviousness to his signs of affection as signs and reminders to not pursue you as it will only end in heartbreak. However, if, after proving to himself that he can indeed survive his once-set expiration date and he confesses to you (See Difference), you somehow misunderstand his confession, perhaps as some kind of bout of manic joy from being able to extend his life, then he will take time to calm down so you know he is being serious and tell you honestly and blatantly. He has already waited for so long, suppressing the calling of his heart and soul, and he will not waste another moment of his life not cherishing and worshiping you as you so deserve.

Questioned = How do they react if someone catches on to their odd behaviour and questions them?

V is calm, composed, levelheaded, and a master at manipulation and the ways of the English language. If someone starts questioning his actions then he can easily lead, twist, loop, and end the conversation like a conductor to an orchestra with the other speaker left satisfied and a bit confused on the topic and point of the conversation.

Risk = How risky will they be with getting rid of rivals?

V has no intention of killing anyone. He loves you and, though you may not see it now, he knows you love him too. But if he really feels the need to dispose of someone, he has to be careful. Not so much because he fears the police or the friends and family of the victim. They could easily be tricked and manipulated into cooperating. It was his own family and friends that posed a problem. Dante, Nero, Kyrie, they would never understand. They don’t understand how deep his love is for you. If they found out he killed someone to protect his relationship with you, they would try to intervene or, worst of all, try to get you away from him. V can’t risk that.

So he carefully plans out his assassination. He can’t use his familiars because there is a chance that as soon as the police/family realize the murder was done by a demon they may call Lady or Dante’s businesses for help and they can spot Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare’s work easily. And a physical altercation, even with the aid of weapons, would cause too much of a scene. So instead, V will kill with discreet methods, such as poison, or a disposable method, such as forming a contract with a demon, sending them out on their elimination mission, and then killing the new demon familiar so it could not be traced back to V.

Sweet = Even when they’re Yandere they can be sweet. What’s their sweet Yandere side?

You are his world, his everything, and he will tell you that often. Every day he tells you and shows you how much he appreciates you and all you do, for him and others. Being able to wake up beside you, spend time with you, and hold you at night is a blessing that he will always cherish, no matter how long you are together.

Type = What type of Yandere are they?

Going off of the Yandere Fandom Wiki’s list, V would mostly be a Manipulative Yandere (Focuses on working a series of situations to prevent losing their love.) with a bit of a Submissive Yandere (Only in love with one specific person and will carry out any task asked of them.).

V has a way with words and with his ability to stay calm and collected no matter the intricate lies he is weaving, he will subtly manipulate you into things like spending more time with him and fending off anyone who seriously threatens your relationship (See Other). He won’t just have you wrapped around his finger, as he will also make others question themselves or change their mind through his poetic, complex, cryptic wording. This can range from telling your family and friends that they should not make you go to some even, claiming things like how tired and stressed you are when in reality he just wants more time alone with you, to even beneficial things like convincing your teachers or boss to treat you better because you are such an amazing student/worker.

There is also little he wouldn’t do for you. He will of course do small things if you ask like taking you to and from appointments no matter the ungodly hour it is happening and taking you on dates to all the places you are interested in. But he will do so much more if only you ask it of him. For example, if you come to him for help, telling him about some person or group that is hurting you somehow, either directly or through association, and ask him to get rid of them, he will.

Unsure = How much trust do they have in you? What happens if you break it?

V trusts you a great deal, more than most yandere. Even when you make small mistakes he will quickly forgive you and assure you that he understands that you are doing your best and don’t truly mean any harm. If you do something drastic though, that is different. There is what will happen if you try to hurt yourself (See Kidnapping), but if you do something like cheat on him he will be devastated. He will blame himself for the most part, assuming he has failed to provide you with the love and affection you desire and is determined to be better. He will follow you without being too pushy, not quite a stalker but he will reappear in your life every couple of weeks to try to win your heart back. And between each meeting, he would work on improving himself in any way he thinks he is failing you, from physical to social to financial. At times he may even consider leaving you be, letting you go free, but he can’t help but be drawn to you. In the end, he would rather give up on life rather than give up on you.

Vexation = What is the one thing that you could do to piss them off or worry them the most?

V does not really get angry, being levelheaded enough to stay calm and give you and himself some space if he is getting frustrated. As for worrying him, the thing that will unsettle and worry him the most is if you suddenly, without plausible reason, start claiming that you love him and saying overly sweet things. If you were to say ‘I love you’ without complete sincerity he would see it as the complete opposite. You must be upset and/or unhappy in some way. Though he does not want to pry, if you keep forcing words of affection out it will eat away at him until he pleads for you to stop and instead tell him what it is that is driving you to hurt him like this.

Welcome = Let’s say they’re Yandere for you but you’ve not had your first meeting. How do they initiate it?

If you two have not officially met but you have caught V’s eye, he will avoid approaching you due to the belief that he will return to Vergil soon. He does not wish to hurt you by charming you and then disappearing, though that does have a romantic air to it. So perhaps he will allow himself to be seen once or twice if the situation requires. For example, if you are attacked by demons he will jump in to save you, maybe take a moment to let his mysterious and alluring aura seep in before disappearing like a masked hero, never truly known but leaving a sense of mysticism. At least this way, when the being known as V does disappear from this world, he will live on in you to a small extent.

If/when he knows that he can prolong his life, he will search for you right away. He’ll want to keep up his dark, mysterious, romantic aura as much as possible to make a good impression. This includes not giving you all the answers right away, slipping into the shadows and reappearing for the first few meets, and not letting you meet the blabbermouth Griffon or the horrific Nightmare, at least not at first. Shadow you may meet because he trusts her to not ruin the moment and may even add to his allure as he has a powerful jungle cat at his whim.

He has read countless poems and stories of romance, and he will use that to his advantage to make your introduction to him as perfect as possible.

Xeric = What is an innocuous thing you do that hits a nerve in their twisted mind and really turns them on?

Whether it is done casually during a time when you are relaxing and holding each other or if he is in the middle of something and your wandering mind leads you to do it, having you lightly trace the patterns of his tattoos sets his body and heart on fire faster then he is able to ask you why you are doing it. Having your fingers delicately glide along his skin has him twisting, arching, and bending into your touch, trembling slightly as soft gasps that sometimes sound more like moans, slip from his lips.

Yearning = They want you but you are already with someone else. How will they win you over/steal you from your current partner?

V will not even try. He is already hesitant to get close to you with his mission of becoming Vergil again. You being in a happy relationship with another offers him a melancholy peace as he knows that once he is gone you will be taken care of. In this circumstance, he will not even bother looking for a way to extend his life and simply complete the task he was created to do.

Zealot = If everything fails, will they be able to kill their partner? For the most part, no. Even if you fight, run, reject, and abandon him over and over he will never be pushed to kill you. The only circumstance in which he would take your life is if you have been irreparably damaged, physically or mentally. If, because of a demon attack, the cruelty of the world infecting you with an incurable disease, or you have lost your mind, if your life is nothing but suffering, he will mercy kill you. And he would follow you soon after, to be able to hold you in the afterlife and watch you be free of this pain.

[miautastic-games-blog]

Just a small project i´ve been working on

Inglés/English

When I found out that the G5 series of My Little Pony had been cancelled, I had a nostalgic attack and decided to watch the Friendship is Magic series again, taking advantage of the fact that it is complete on YouTube, to refresh my memory and then watch the "complete" G5, something I haven't done yet because I don't have the money to pay for Netflix and I don´t want to risk with a pirate site to watch the movie :P. The thing is that while I was watching the series at some point I got the idea that the adventures of Twilight and friends would fit very well in an RPG style game, so I started digging around the fandom to see what kind of fangames I could find (don't even get me started on official mobile games, I'm against the business model of those kinds of games), but the thing is that, apart from some horror games like those of Princess Luna or the one of Applebloom in the town without cutie marks, some MMOs, the games based on the Fallout Equestria fanfic and that filthy game with Trixie, I didn't find anything that resembled the idea I had in mind (Don't get me wrong, a lot of those games look really fun, especially "that one") so I said to myself "Hey, what if I made that game?".

With this idea in mind I started to fantasize about what this videogame would be like and I had the idea of ​​making it in clickteam fusion, the same engine that the classic FNaF games are made in, a saga of which I am a fan, so I started to learn about the particularities of this software and to design prototypes for some mechanics that I want to include, such as a mission system and an inventory. What you see in the video is a practically finished version of a character customization system, which has several options so you can create the pony that best suits your personal tastes.

After much thought I decided to call this project "MLP: Harmony is Magic". As I already implied this is a fangame so it does not have the official license nor the support of Hasbro (hopefully not their wrath either). It will be inspired by G4, which includes the main series, the comics both canonical and non-canonical, some information taken from the books, and content related to Equestria Girls. In "Harmony is magic" you will take on the role of a pony who, along with his five friends, must face threats that will put the fate of Equestria in peril and overcome trials in which their friendship will be challenged. Explore this magical kingdom to meet and help its inhabitants and fight in turn-based combats against monsters such as Manticores, Little and Big Dippers, Vampire Ponies, Changelings and others that endanger the peace of the little equines, with the help of an enigmatic being that will not last long when it comes to lending its strength to restore harmony: the Tree.

I still have many things to work on, for example in the aesthetic section of the game, which I can tell it will be in a minimalist pixel-art style to resemble the aesthetic of the series. I also have to polish some mechanics and finish designing others, such as the special powers of each pony race or a cutie mark´s skills system inspired by Pokémon. When I have something more to show, I will return with another post; In the meantime, be happy, learn about friendship, drink water and whatever.

Meow.

=================================================Español/Spanish:

Cuando me enteré que habían cancelado la serie de la G5 de My Little Pony, tuve un ataque de nostalgia y decidí volver a ver la serie de La Magia de la Amistad aprovechando que esta completa en YouTube para refrescar mi memoria y luego ver "completa" la G5, cosa que no he hecho por el momento porque no tengo plata para pagar Netflix ni ganas de meterme en un sitio pirata para ver la película :P. El caso es que mientras miraba la serie en algún momento se me ocurrió la idea de que las aventuras de Twilight y amigas encajarían muy bien en un juego estilo RPG, así que me puse a hurgar en el fandom a ver que fangames podía encontrar (ni me hablen de los juegos para móviles oficiales, estoy en contra del modelo de negocio de esa clase de juegos), pero el caso es que, aparte de algunos juegos de terror como esos de la Princesa Luna o el de Applebloom en el pueblo sin cutie mark, algunos MMO, los juegos basados en el fanfic de Fallout Equestria y ese juego cochino con Trixie, no encontré nada que se pareciera a la idea que yo tenia en mente (no me malinterpreten, muchos de esos juegos se ven muy divertidos, sobre todo "ese") así que me dije "Oye, ¿y si yo hiciera ese juego?".

Con esta idea en mente me puse a fantasear sobre como sería dicho videojuego y tuve la idea de hacerlo en clickteam fusion, el mismo motor en el que están hechos los juegos clásicos de FNaF, saga de la cual soy fanático, así que me puse a aprender sobre las particularidades de este software y a diseñar prototipos para algunas mecánicas que quiero incluir, como un sistema de misiones y un inventario. Lo que se ve en el video es una versión prácticamente finalizada de un sistema de personalización de personaje, el cual cuenta con varias opciones para que puedas crear el pony que más se ajuste a tus gustos personales.

Tras mucho pensar me decidí a llamar a este proyecto como "MLP: Harmony is Magic". Como ya di a entender esto es un fangame por lo que no cuenta con la licencia oficial ni mucho menos con el apoyo de Hasbro (esperemos que tampoco con su ira). Este estará inspirado en la G4, lo que incluye la serie principal, los comics tanto los canónicos como los canónicos, alguna información extraída de los libros, y el contenido relacionado con Equestria Girls. En "Harmony is magic" asumirás el rol de un pony que junto a sus cinco amigos deberán enfrentarse a amenazas que pondrán en jaque el destino de Equestria y superar pruebas en los que su amistad se verá desafiada. Explora este mágico reino para conocer y ayudar a sus habitantes y lucha en combates por turnos contra monstruos como Mantícoras, Osas Menores y Mayores, Ponis Vampiro, Cambiantes y demás que pongan en peligro la paz de los pequeños equinos, con la ayuda de un enigmático ser que no durará a la hora de prestar su fuerza para restaurar la armonía: el Árbol.

Aún tengo muchas cosas en las que trabajar, por ejemplo en el apartado gráfico y estético del juego, que ya les adelanto que será con un estilo pixel-art minimalista para parecerse a la serie. También debo pulir algunas mecánicas y terminar de diseñar otras, como los poderes especiales de cada raza de pony o el sistema de habilidades inspirado en el de Pokémon constituido por las cutie marks. Cuando tenga algo más que mostrar volveré con otra publicación; mientras tanto sean felices, aprendan sobre la amistad, beban agua y que se yo.

Miau.

(Por cierto, si bien soy latino me decidí a hacer este juego 100% en inglés para ir manejando mejor el idioma y todo eso)

[tieronecrush]

Hello! Love your work! Can I get a Javier Pena story where this song is the inspo: https://m.soundcloud.com/user-265940464-259651895/i-miss-u ? Basically Y/N is upset because she thinks Javi is cheating on her because he’s being distant but he’s actually just really stressed out? Can there be lots of fluff :) thank you btw!

thank you so much for your lovely compliment and for sending in this request!!! javi p is my husband so i loveeee love love writing for him!! hope this lives up to what you imagined!!!

cold hands

javier peña x f!reader

rating: M

word count: 2.3k

summary: your boyfriend javi has been distant for the past few weeks; canceling dates, staying late at work, leaving early in the morning, and….lacking intimacy. you can't help but wonder if something is going on, or someone.

warnings: insecurity, distant relationship, thoughts about infidelity, past infidelity, established relationship, pet names, it's javi so he's obviously going to allude to sexy times, very poor highschool level spanish please educate me

“Hey, baby! You leaving the embassy now?” You ran across your kitchen to pick up the landline on the second ring, abandoning the dinner cooking on the stove in hopes that it was your boyfriend. When his deep voice on the other end confirmed it, a smile crossed your face and was evident in the excitement in your tone.

A slow sigh comes from the other end, your heart immediately sinking in your chest. You knew what was about to come next. It wasn’t the first time this has happened in the past few weeks. It wasn’t even the first time it has happened this week.

“I’m sorry, cielto. I can’t make it tonight, Messina has Murphy and me pursuing a lead that has to happen tonight…”

These phone calls with Javi have become routine at this point. Always when he’s supposed to come and spend the night or is supposed to pick you up to come to his place; he’s canceled dates and has been leaving early in the mornings to go to work when you two do get to spend the night with each other.

Always something along the lines of “Messina ordered us”, “This has to happen tonight”, or “They need us to go to Medellín”. There was one time two weeks ago when all three of those reasons were used in the same sentence.

“It’s alright, Javi. See you tomorrow night, maybe?”

“I will come by right after I get off work tomorrow to pick you up and bring you over to my place. Lo prometo, mi amor. Estaré ahí para ti. (I promise, my love. I will be there for you).”

That is when you can’t take it anymore. The promise breaks your heart because you know he can’t keep it, that he probably won’t keep it. Tears fall down your cheeks as you bite your lip to stay quiet, all of your hard work ruined when you sniffle without thinking about it.

Javi’s heard the noise and knows that you must be crying, the image of you alone and upset breaking his heart. He shifts to turn to lean against his desk, prepared to stand there and comfort you until you feel better.

Except, the next second, Murphy is standing right next to him with an impatient look on his face. He’s tapping his foot and rushing him along with his hands, gesturing to his watch and then to the door.

Javi’s chest constricts as he listens to your soft sniffles crack over the line, another sigh falling from his lips.

That second sigh sounds much more frustrated. He must be annoyed that you’re this upset over him canceling, probably wondering why you can’t understand that this is his job. He can’t just say no and head out for the night, it’s not a regular nine-to-five.

As you open your mouth to apologize to him and deescalate any annoyance from him, his voice muffles in a whisper over the phone.

“I’m sorry, cielto. I gotta go. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay —” is all you can get out before the line cuts dead and the dial tone sounds. You hang the phone on the wall again, freely letting out your cries now that you’re alone again.

It wasn’t always like this. Javi has been an attentive partner since you met him; at first, the two of you casually hooked up, a boot call here or there. But eventually, you or he would stay the night which evolved into making breakfast together before work, and then became the two of you spending nights together simply hanging out with nothing else happening. Finally, after a few months of that, Javi insisted and asked, multiple times, to take you on a “real date, with dinner and drinks or the movies or whatever” (his words). You’d quickly agreed after his ramble, and since that night he asked you for a date, the two of you have been together for just under a year. It’d be closer to a year and a half if you count those months spent hooking up before.

If you had been asked two months ago if the two of you were happy, you would say yes without hesitation. These days, you weren’t so sure that Javi was entirely in it anymore.

He’s been distant, the phone calls and cancellations are major evidence that something is going on. But even when the two of you are together, he falls asleep without so much as a kiss for you, sits on the other end of the couch staring into space while you watch TV, has even jumped away from you touching his shoulder when you stood next to him in your kitchen.

The behavior is all too familiar. You can’t help but connect the dots as you did with your ex — the one you were with for a few years before Javi. He had cheated on you. Avoided you for months by canceling last minute or coming up with excuses about work or family stuff. Didn’t have sex with you, kiss you, or even hold your hand when you were together. 

Javi has given you absolutely no reason for you not to trust him. Sure, you’d heard all about his previous reputation from Steve and even from Javi himself, but as far as you know, ever since the two of you had been hooking up, he hasn’t been with anyone else. A devoted, doting boyfriend. Until he became distant.

Insecurity started to fester in the space he created between the two of you. Your past influences your brain to start mulling over if this distance is to make a break up with you easier, or if maybe he’s found someone else, maybe he’s already with that someone else.

The thought seems ludicrous to part of you, but that tiny sliver of doubt is the loudest tonight.

You haven’t talked to him about how these past few weeks have been strange and cold. The thought of saying something, of confronting him, and making it all worse terrifies you. If he isn’t doing anything wrong, if he’s just going through something, you definitely don’t want to give him a reason to break up with you or to think that you don’t trust him. 

The way that he whispered to you over the phone before hanging up sticks out in your mind, and it jumps to the conclusion that he must be around someone that he has to keep a secret from, to keep you a secret from.

It’s irrational, but in your current state, you can’t bring yourself out.

Instead, dinner is chucked in the trash, and the rest of your night is spent cycling between sad, broken tears, angry stewing, and insecure spiraling. Eventually, you exhaust yourself with the constant changes of emotions, falling asleep alone.

You eventually fall asleep and wake up to a hand gently shaking your shoulder. Javi stands over you next to your bed dressed in his short-sleeve button-up and jeans that you saw him get dressed in the previous morning.

“Morning, cielito.”

Half awake, the sight of him coming home in yesterday’s clothes makes tears well in your eyes, and his hand suddenly feels cold against your skin. The only reason you think of him standing there in a day-old outfit is that he must have spent the night with someone else.

His brow furrows with concern as he sees your faint tears falling, his hand moving up to pet your hair, the motion nearly comforting you to the point where you want to forget everything that’s happened and take what he’ll give you, even if there might be someone else.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s got you so sad, cariño? Did something happen last night?”

You sniffle and shake your head, swiping your tears away and sitting up in bed quickly.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Must’ve been a bad dream.”

Javi sits next to you on the edge of the bed, hand moving to your thigh and circling his thumb on it through the faded quilt covering you.

“Cielito, please tell me. We both know that you don’t sleep as peacefully as you were when you have a nightmare. I want to help you, please tell me.”

You pull the covers further over you, covering your mouth and muffling out, “I don’t wanna…Just gonna make things worse…”

Javi looks at you with a faint smile and a chuckle, shaking his head. 

“As adorable as you look, mi amor, I can’t hear you like that,” he reaches over and gently pulls the quilt from your hands, laying it down again. He takes one of your hands that have fallen to your lap, intertwining your fingers, “Can you say that again for me? Please?”

His softness is making more tears well, your eyes trained on your hands as you let out a shaky exhale, voice meek. 

“Are you…Do you still wanna be with me?”

Your gaze flicks up to Javi’s face and his thumb stops brushing against your hand. Thick brows knit together, confusion and hurt mixing in his wide eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak once and then twice, finally holding your hand tighter and matching your volume.

“Of course, I do, cariño. Why would you think I don’t want that? Have I done something to make you feel like that?”

“It’s just — You’ve been so distant the past few weeks. Canceling dates, or telling me you can’t come over, or staying late and leaving early for work. I don’t want you to be upset, but it, um, it's made me feel like maybe you wanna break up or maybe…you’ve found someone else. It’s the same thing that my ex did, and I know you’re not him but my brain just can’t shut up about what it all makes me feel or-or think about.”

“Someone else? Mi amor, you are all I want. I love you. Solo seras tu por el resto de mi vida (It will only be you for the rest of my life),” he peels the covers back from your legs and stands, nudging you over to sit on the bed. His forearm muscles flex as he pulls you across his lap, arms circling around your waist and hand running fingertips up and down your spine methodically.

“There’s been shit after shit piling up at work and Murphy’s been on my ass to stay late and come in early to try to get one step ahead of these sicarios. And then yesterday we got a lead from one of our informants that turned out to be a dead end. I’ve just been stressed, I guess. And not handling it well. I'm sorry…It’s not an excuse for neglecting you, but believe me when I say, all I think about is you. There could never be anyone else ‘cause I can’t shut up about you — you can ask Steve if you don’t believe me, but if we aren’t talking about work, I make one mention of you and he rolls his eyes.”

The thought pulls a subtle smile to your face, hand reaching up to wipe your falling tears. Javi gets there before you, his featherlight touch swiping the moisture away from your cheeks.

“You’ve made me soft, cielito. Lost my reputation as big, bad Agent Peña. Now everyone around the office just says your name and I respond a lot quicker.”

That breaks you, making you laugh genuinely and shake your head. A bright grin on your face pulls your cheeks up and glistens the salty water in your eyes, “You’re definitely lying, but it’s a cute story so I will let it slide.”

“I swear to god, I’m not bluffing. Put me in a polygraph, I’ll pass with flying colors.”

“Oh no, I believe the part about you responding faster to my name and being soft. I don’t believe that anyone at work ever thought of you as ‘big, bad Agent Peña’.” 

Your smile slides into an impish grin, Javi’s mouth dropping open and eyes widening in offense. It doesn’t last for long, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth up as he listens to you laugh at his expense. Affection floods his eyes and he looks at you tenderly, leaning in to press a sweet but supple kiss to your lips. His wide smile is still evident on his face when he pulls away, his sincere tone resonating in your chest.

“I missed you, cielto. I miss you every damn day when I go to work and have to come home alone…” his eyes flash with an idea, a definitive request following, “Move in with me. Solves the problem of you needing a new place and I can come home to my beautiful girlfriend every night. What do you say, mi amor?”

“I say, you better be a good roommate.” 

Javier wiggles his eyebrows as he leans for a kiss, words coated in his signature charm, “I definitely will be. Gonna be the best you ever had, in more ways than one. Don’t think our neighbors are gonna like us, though. Voy a tenerte gritando mi nombre todas las noches (I’m going to have you screaming my name every night).”

The phrase takes a second to translate in your head, mouth falling open in a gasp and a playful smack hitting his shoulder.

“Don’t make the neighbors hate me!”

A smug grin crosses his face as he moves to lay you down on the bed, crawling over you between your spread legs.“I think you’ll be saying something much different after the first night you’re living with me, mi amor. Estarás rogando por más (You’ll be begging for more).”

Your eyes start to roll and Javi presses his lips to yours in a slow, passionate kiss. He lifts his head away from you, adoration in his eyes.

"Te amo, mi cielito. Seré tuyo para siempre si me tienes (I love you, my heaven. I'll be yours forever if you'll have me)."

tagging some peeps from my other javi fic!

taglist: @swiftispunk @pedrit0-pascalit0 @lil-stark @joelsversion @mrsvedder12 @starsandsaints07 @wild-fauxed @rubyshouse @notes-from-my-journal @mi-place @killervirgosworld @paytonispunk @jakecockley @hydrangaces @jupitercorgi @nic0lodean @creedslove @westeros-needs-me @ikigailereve @the-casual-cat @marysucks-blog @midnightswithdearkatytspb @luamarieta @kaletastrophes @nasanatmfers @storyarcscribe @asirenbyanyothername @frustratedpanda @dieterbravo @theelishad @pascalislove @bigbutchenergee @starkovli @scrambledslut @atinylittlepain @beskarandblasters @johnwatsn @thetriumphantpanda

[doubleddenden]

I see some people worrying that the Teraleak will cause Pokemon projects to be delayed or canceled (thanks to a fake leaker who lost his credibility trying to stir the pot like usual), especially ZA.

I'm not a leaker with inside info, I'm not a TPC employee, I'm just a lifelong fan like many others- just to preface this.

My opinion is this, for what little it may matter: I don't think any game projects are in any rush to be canceled or completely restarted from scratch. This leak is huge and does cover other facets of the franchise like anime and movies- those could be possibly affected, but I'd say the chances of anything deep in development being outright canceled is near zero- not impossible, but very low.

Imo the worst that may end up happening across the board is that stories in the works may need to be rewritten, characters planned reworked, certain new Pokemon or forms shelved for later or permanently jailed like other beta Pokemon, or maybe get delayed a bit longer than what they normally would have.

That being said, there's something very important people need to realize about this: Pokemon isn't a passion project, it's a franchise that makes more money than any other. They are a business that makes products to be bought, watched, consumed, all in pursuit of appeasing people in suits who like money. That sounds like a cold take to some, and I'm sure there are plenty involved that are passionate about their work, but money is the MAIN objective here- I think we can all see why SV released so early despite clearly being unfinished with that understanding.

In other words, there are billions of dollars tied into a lot of projects going on. Shareholders and investors will want their money back and extra. Employees need to be paid for their hard work, and while the games don't make nearly as much as mobile games or merch, that's still a pretty heavy billion or more dollars earned with each release, quality not really important. This year, they're banking on merch, tcg, mobile games, and especially TCG pocket to help make up for the gap year.

However that still leaves the next year or two. They are balls deep in ZA and gen 10 production right now, it is literally too late to turn back now or risk SV but WORSE, and to drop it all because of a leak is tantamount to lighting billions of dollars ablaze and shooting your own ass with a pistol.

A source code and a possible PC build being out there can lose a little money, but let's be real: most Pokemon games have leaked before their scheduled launch date to be available for some form of Piracy. I can attest that this has been the case since- from my own memory- HGSS's and BW's initial releases. In recent times, SwSh and SV both were being emulated days and weeks before commercial launch.

And you know what happened? They still made so much money that the more recent games have collectively sold more than most of the older gens.

Sure, you can emulate, you could try the pc build if it ever leaks- but the pc build supposedly requires specific specs to play- in other words, it is most likely a dev build meant for simulating the Switch or Switch 2 specifications. Emulating is harder to do the more recent a game is, and not all pcs are made for it in general (my "gaming" pc can play plenty of Steam Games just fine, but it absolutely shits itself trying to run an RPGmaker game or trying to emulate anything more complex than the gba or n64). Even then, most fans would prefer to play the games on original hardware because it simply WORKS the best and as close to intended as possible, and it is just easier to buy a game than figure out how to get just the right settings to run a Switch game at lower fps and overall quality, let alone find a source for a game that doesn't come preloaded with a virus or a tracker to get you fined. In other words, people who emulate are probably a very small percentage of the total player base, and people who would emulate a more recent Pokemon game are probably smaller in that group. And let's be real- the people who will emulate were already planning to anyway.

Let's be clear- a source code can be worked wonders with... if you have the time and know how to figure out how to do it and THEN the time and know how to also do it. If you're a game studio and it is your JOB to work with it, you get paid to do so for many hours a day. If you're a fan trying to get a game to run natively on pc or other devices, you're most likely going to be doing this while you're off work or dealing with other life commitments, and it'll still probably take more time than if you were someone who originally made it.

Here's 1 more important thing: yes, this is probably the earliest a Pokemon game project has gotten leaked, but A. It is not leaking to the public YET other than 2 or 3 small bread crumbs that barely mean anything OOC and only stated by the one guy who has it. B. Although ZA is playable, even the Leaker himself said that the game still needs to have more side quests and things worked on. It's not the final product yet, in other words, meaning even if he did go back on his word and leak everything, there will still be things missing they haven't added as of August of 2024 when GF was breached. That definitely includes Pokemon, plot lines, etc.

All of this being said- people will buy the games. Simple as that. That's guaranteed money. That's money they want and need. So what this means overall is that ZA and gen 10 will most likely not be canceled- least of all as a way to "punish" fans for the actions of 1 guy.

A delay, perhaps? Well, all we know about ZA's release window is what we've already been told: 2025. That's it. No point in 2025, just the year, anywhere from January to December. If they decide to redo huge portions of the story- which I doubt they'll erase too much- we probably won't even know about it until the next big leak (which if gf have half a brain they'll invest more in their cyber security, if nothing else than for their own safety) or unless we are told to our faces by them directly, which I doubt. Any delays will strictly be internal rather than on our end- maybe they'll need to delay from April to November of 2025 for ZA, but we don't know that because all we know is 2025!

In simple words, if something changes, we won't know anything until after the fact. We won't see a difference from our perspective until later, like how we're now discovering a bunch of new gen 3 and a few gen 5 beta Pokemon 22 to 15 years after the fact. Worst outcome is maybe they'll cut content and blame the leak- but let's be real, they cut content anyway because of anything from time constraints to "kids and their smart phones."

It'll be fine. Don't stress about that.

[practically-an-x-man]

Random OC ask!

Your OCs and their partners have been hit with a musical theatre spell! Every time they have a Big Emotional Moment (TM), they burst into song, which can either be hilarious or quite embarrassing. How do they react?

Haha I love this!! Thank you so much!!

Rae and Warren W: It alternates between really funny and really annoying. Some of their Emotional Moments are just... appreciating that they've made it this far, so it's funny and honestly a little bit sweet if they're just sitting on the couch and suddenly burst into song because they've just started thinking about how nice it is to be given those domestic moments. But on the other side of things... they've had hard times too, and being struck with a big musical number when they're genuinely trying to get through something serious is just infuriating.

Robin and Peter M: Oh, they're having a great time! Robin's a trained stage performer, and Peter is a goofball with no sense of shame, so they just find it more entertaining than anything.

Madison and Alex: Mostly annoyed, to be honest. Neither of them is really the best at emotional moments to begin with, so being startled by a bit musical number when they're finally in a space when they can open up to each other is just aggravating.

Ophelia and Peter P: Eh, similar to Rae and Warren. Sometimes it's funny, other times it's annoying, it just depends on the moment and the context around it.

Gia and Kate: In a weird way, I do think it would push away some of Gia's anxiety - I mean, think about it, it's unexpected enough to stop those overthinking spirals in their tracks, it's strange but it can really help sometimes!

Jasper and Kyle: Oh, they're having a blast with this! They're a fun-loving couple to begin with, and I'm sure they'll find a way to get rid of the curse eventually, but for now they are just hamming it up and having a great time.

Katherine and Ahkmenrah: Ahk is SO fucking confused, and Katherine's trying to find a way to remove the spell - not because it's uncomfortable, it's really fine, but it's kind of distracting.

Kestrel and Warren B: They're both more focused on the fact that it's an unwanted spell (which could be a curse, and the singing thing could be a distraction hiding some more serious curse underneath), so they make a professional agreement to keep their emotions in check until they get rid of the spell. It wouldn't be the first time they'd been struck with some kind of joint curse, so they know the drill by now.

Quinn and Billy: They both find it a little annoying, but One finds it outrageously annoying, so in the end most of that annoyance cancels out and they're mostly amused by how much it irritates One.

Eris and Rick: Eris is so emotionally constipated, it could be weeks before they even realize they're under a spell. And when they finally have one of those big moments... well, somebody's probably grievously injured or something, so that's not exactly the prime opportunity to burst into song.

Nikoletta and Abner: It's just awkward, more than anything. It's kind of mortifying to just burst into song unprompted, especially when they're trying to open up to one another, so it ends in both of them shutting down emotionally for a while until they spell is broken. Not gonna lie, it might take them some time to bounce back from that, since the emotional side of things can be a little fragile for them.

Jimmy and Lars: Jimmy finds it funny, while Lars is immediately set on trying to research and break this spell.

Vivienne and Wojchek: Now that just sounds dangerous. A siren uncontrollably breaking into song at an already vulnerable moment? Wojchek might be fine, but his crew's in serious danger of jumping ship.

Terra, Vi, and Caitlyn: Ew. Pass. Really not any of their styles, they probably end up all going their separate ways until this resolves, just because a big group song just sounds uncomfortable as all hell.

[strangerthingslover69]

Russian roomie

Dmitri Antonov + Female reader (you are shy and have an unhealthy obsession 🫣🤭)

18+ minors do not read!

Warnings ~ swearing and smut ~

Ever since Dmitri moved in your completely and utterly obsessed with him. So much so you take in great pleasure using his bed when he’s at work. Things take a turn when he finds you in his bed naked

‘Remember Y/N, I’m working tonight so won’t be back until the morning’ your roommate said taking a bite of his apple. You sit at the kitchen island watching him, the way his teeth sink down into the skin of the ruby red apple, the crunch it makes as he bites down. The obnoxious noise he makes when chewing but you looked over that. The way his hand gripped around the apple holding it tightly you could see the veins in his knuckles. The way he stood leaning against the kitchen counter slightly slouched, one foot crossing over the other. You observed every move he made. You knew his habits. His routines. His mannerisms. You can tell what kind of mood he’ll be in when you hear him walking through the house. If he’s had a good day or a bad one. You were fixated one everything he did. You were obsessed with him. ‘Hello?’ Dmitri says waving his hands to you. You snap out of your trance and look up, ‘Yeah I know. Late shift. Home at seven’ you say eating your sandwich. ‘Okay then, I’m going to have a quick shower. Try not to miss me too much’ Dmitri says winking at you. You don’t say anything. You never know how to reply when he’s like that. He’s openly flirty with you but you are not so good at flirting back. Dmitri walks to the bathroom turning on the shower. You can’t help but think of him showering. You wonder what he thinks about whilst showering. You picture him washing his hair with your shared apple blossom shampoo. The way he runs his fingers through his hair. Slowly massaging the shampoo in. You wonder if he uses conditioner too. You think of him washing with his body wash, that had a smell of sweet candy and mint. You wonder where he washed first. You picture his hands covering his body with bubbles washing his skin making it shiny and fresh. His hands running down his body. Along his arm muscles, along his chest, up and down his legs, massaging it into his peachy bum, his hands reaching the base of his dick pumping it as he cleans it. How he’d cup his balls massaging the bubbles in them too. You let of a breathy sigh as you picture this. This was a daily occurrence. Vision of Dmitri in anyway possible you could think of.

He’d been living with you for seven months. Seven months. That’s a lot of ways to picture him yet each day you found new ways. The minute you opened the door to him as he asked about the spare room you knew you needed him to live with you. You needed him here. You remember what he was wearing that day. It was a warm day, mid April. You had the window open slightly to let the cool breeze in. There was a knock at your door, it surprised you as you knew you had no visitor expected. When you opened the door you were greeted with a warm smile and the purest blue eyes you’d ever seen. Denim shorts, black belt, white top tucked in with a short sleeved open shirt, white ankle socks with a pair of black sneakers. His voice surprised you when his lips moved. There was an accent you didn’t know but that didn’t bother you. You adored it. You didn’t really know what he was saying as he spoke. You were in a trance. Mesmerised by him. You offered him the room and cancelled on the person who was originally moving in. You sigh happily at the memory.

As you finish your sandwich you get up to throw the crusts in the bin, who actually enjoys those? ‘Y/N have you seen my shirt?’ Dmitri asks walking out of the bathroom. You turn to answer him. You can not. He is stood with glistening skin, still wet from the water. You see the droplets running down his chest. His hair is stuck up slightly as more droplets fall onto his face. The towel hugging tightly around his waist covering the part your curious about the most. ‘Y/N, what’s up with you today?’ Dmitri says making his way over to the fridge, he grabs the orange juice flicking off the cap taking a sip. He closes the fridge and turns to you. You can smell the apple blossom shampoo and the candy mint body wash as he stands only in he away from you. He puts down the juice and walks closer to you. Closing the gap. ‘Have you seen my shirt?’ He asks again. You gulp as you feel his breath on your face. You shake your head. Dmitri sighs, ‘I will check the closest again’ he says slowly stepping back towards his bedroom. You let out your breath that you’ve been holding. Your heart beating so fast you feel like it’s going to burst. Your core aches as it begs to be touched. You wash your plate with Dmitri’s scent still in your nose and mind. ‘Found it!’ He says walking back through. You turn off the water and dry your hands. Dmitri has his trousers and socks on. His shirt on but unbuttoned. ‘What you going to do whilst I work?’ He says as he puts his shoes on. Size eleven by the way. ‘Maybe watch a movie. Read a book. I’m not sure yet’ you say playing with the hem of your top. ‘Well whatever you do Y/N, enjoy’ he says with a wink. Your cheeks flush pink. Dmitri can’t deny he knew what sort of effect he had on you. He knew from the moment he saw the way you looked at him. The way you still do. He found it adorable how worked up he could make you. At first it was by accident but the more he did it the more it turned him on. He loved seeing you all flustered for him. He thought it was sexy. Dmitri grabs his tie from the door knob and puts it on, along with his jacket, hat and badge. He’d found a job with Hopper at the station. He mainly worked nights. ‘I’ll see you in the morning’ Dmitri said reaching for his keys. ‘Have a good shift’ you said in a small voice. Dmitri smiled and left the flat. You knew what you needed to do. The same thing you do every time he got you this worked up. It was so wrong but it felt so good.

You look out the window making sure Dmitri’s bike was gone. All clear. You smile and make your way to his room. You close the curtains too and turn on his lamp. You adored being in his room. It made you feel close to him. You lift up your top throwing it to the floor, along with your bra, knickers, shorts and socks. You stand fully naked in Dmitri’s room. Just like you did at least twice a week when he worked nights. Chills ran through out you. It was such a thrill being this exposed in Dmitri’s room. The smell of him ran through his room. It made you feel like he was here with you. You wonder over to his wardrobe. Fingers hovering over each shirt. ‘This one’ you say smiling taking his blue shirt off and putting it on. You left it unopened and inhaled it. It sent your pussy into meltdown. His scent on you. You loved these times you had. You lay down on his bed on top of the covers. Head on his pillows, legs open. Your hand moves slowly down your body. Excitement reaching through you. You gasp as you meet your pussy. Dripping wet. The sight oh him after his shower send your pussy wild. You start to circle your clit, taking your time, you always took longer when on Dmitri’s bed. You never wanted to leave it

‘Evening’ Dmitri said popping his head into Hoppers office. Hopper looked up from his paperwork. ‘What you doing here?’ He asked surprisingly. ‘Working?’ Dmitri answered walking into his officer. ‘Didn’t Flo call you?’ Hopper asks. Dmitri shakes his head, ‘No she did not?’ Hopper sighs, ‘She was suppose to call you to ask if you could sway shifts as Callahan can’t work tomorrow. He working tonight instead.’ ‘Oh, it’s okay. I can do tomorrow instead. No problem’ Dmitri replies, he doesn’t mind when he works he’s just grateful to have a job. ‘Thanks man, sorry about the mix up. We’ll see you tomorrow’ Hopper says with relief. ‘See you tomorrow’ Dmitri says leaving the office. Dmitri decides to stop off at the shop and grab some snacks and beers before heading to family video and renting a movie for you and him to both watch. It was rare for him to spend a night with you as he mainly works. He was looking forward to it. The errands don’t take him too long. He drives back home. He looks up to the building to see his bedroom light on through the curtains. Odd, he’s sure he turned it off. He walks towards the flat complex, the lift broken again, he makes his way up the steps luckily only on the third floor. He turns his keys into the door and opens it expecting to see you sitting on the sofa watching TV or reading a book or even asleep. It appeared you had the habit of nodding off on the sofa. He was surprised not to see you there. He was about to call you name when he heard something. Something he’d not heard before. Something he knows can’t be real, surely? He frowns in confusion at where the noise appears to be coming from. He sees your bedroom door open but not you in there. He slowly makes his way he sees his bedroom door slightly open with the light on he could see from outside. He peaks through and what he sees shocks him. You laying there on his bed, with his shirt on, legs spread open whilst your fingers pump in and out of your pussy. He can see how wet you are as his covers have a wet patch. Your head thrown back into his pillows, sweet noises escaping you mouth, chest heaving heavily up and down as your fingers twist your nipple. You moan his name loudly. Dmitri’s trousers constrict his now very hard cock. You can feel yourself close as you bring your fingers off your nipple to circle your clit sloppily. ‘Fuckfuck, yes! Dmitri!’ You moan as you feel the coil about the snap. Dmitri pushes the door open ‘Well well Y/N, what are you doing in my bed?’

The sound of Dmitri’s voice comes ringing through to your ears. Your eyes open instantly as you lift your head up from his pillows. Quickly moving your fingers out of your pussy and bringing his shirt to cover your naked body. You were mortified. You felt like your body was burning with embarrassment all over. You try to speak but no words come out. Dmitri shrugs his jacket off throwing next to your clothes on the floor and makes his way over to you. He stops at the side of his bed. You do not look up at him. You can’t face him. Your breath sharpens as you feel Dmitri’s hand wrap around your throat, he turns your head towards his. He leans down so your faces are inches apart. ‘I asked you a question Y/N? You think you can fuck yourself on my bed? Dripping yourself everywhere in my shirt and not answer my simple question?’ He says as his other hand moves your hand off his shirt to open it up. He groans at the up close sight of your body. He lets go of your throat, you gasps trying to catch your breath. Dmitri turns away from you, your eyes follow him. ‘I, I’m sorry’ you manage to whisper off. Dmitri scoffs, ‘Sorry? I think it’s a little late for that don’t you?’ You don’t speak. You can’t. You don’t know what to say. You watch as you see Dmitri undoing his buttons on his shirt, he takes it off before moving to his belt and undoing it. ‘You leave me no choice Y/N’ Dmitri turns to you belt in hand. You gulp at the sight of him. You’ve not seen him like this. His eyes have darkened a very deep blue. A smirk falls to the side of his mouth. He takes slow steps towards you until he stops in front of you, bending down so you face to face. You look away but feel his rough fingers pull your chin. ‘If you want to be a naughty girl. You need to be punished’ he says biting his bottom lip. You feel a twinge in your stomach. You don’t know whether it’s because your nervous or excited.

It all happened so quickly you’re not sure how it did. But right now you find yourself naked on Dmitri’s bed still but his belt is around your hands tied together above your head and wrapped around his headboard. Dmitri has not said anything since saying you needed punishing. He is looking at your like he is the predator and you are the prey as he stands at the edge of the bed. Catching you was so fucking hot. You looked fucked out your mind, he was going to make you feel like that. He was going to do many things to you. ‘Here is what is going to happen Y/N’ Dmitri starts to speak as you see his hands pulling down his trousers and boxers in one swift movement. You can’t help but gasps a little at him. Fuck. He was big. Biggest you’d seen. Not just big but thick. Your pussy clenches at the sight of his dick. Dmitri can’t help but smile smugly as he sees your expression, it also doesn’t go unnoticed how you clenched around nothing. Dmitri crawls on to the bed on his knees in between your legs. He leans down and rests his hands on the headboard, his face inches from yours. ‘Since you like acting like a whore on my bed I’m going to treat you like one. You are now my fuck toy. Understand?’ Dmitri sees your pupils go even wider at his words. You nod at his words. ‘No. Words. I need words’ he says his head dipping into your neck. ‘I, I understand’ you say in a small voice. ‘Good girl’ Dmitri says into your ear sending goosebumps through out your body. ‘Hmm, what to do first Y/N? Do I put my dick into that pretty mouth? Do I fuck you? Do I taste you? Mmm so many options’ he says as his lips ghost your neck. You whimper pathetically at him. ‘I know what I’ll do first, since you seem to enjoy your fingers maybe you’ll like mine too?’ Dmitri says as his lips plant little kisses down your neck. ‘Would you like that?’ He says before harshly biting down, his teeth sink in and suck your tender skin. ‘Y-yes’ you moan out. Dmitri continues to kiss your neck before his teeth sink in, marking you all up so everyone knows your his toy no one else’s. Your head already spinning and he hasn’t even touched your aching core yet, his bites are harsh and hard but you fucking love it. You gaps loudly as with no warning Dmitri pushes two fingers into your pussy. ‘Fuck!’ You moan. Dmitri smiles into your neck. ‘So tight. Your sure your gonna be able to take my cock?’ He says before another bite. You don’t reply you can’t. His fingers are pumping in and out of you harshly. It feels amazing. His fingers reach so far up compared to yours. You tighten around Dmitri’s fingers as the familiar feeling from your lost orgasm creeps up on your already. ‘D-Dmitri! You moan as your legs shake. Dmitri lifts his head and look in to your eyes, he can feel you clenching around his fingers. ‘You gonna cum?’ He says biting his lip. ‘Yes!’ You scream closing your eyes rolling you head back, just as the coil is about to snap but then just like that it goes as Dmitri quickly removes his fingers. ‘You think I’d let you cum already? Silly whore’ he says slapping you clit, you whimper at the sting, opening your eyes and look up to see him looking at you with a shit eating grin, you can’t help but glare at him. Another slap on your clit. You let out another whimper, it hurts but feels good

‘I think you like it when I smack this pretty pussy’ Dmitri says as he does another one. You whimper again. ‘Mmhmm, bit sore’ you say in a breathy voice. Dmitri lowers himself down so he is face to face with your wet core. ‘I will kiss her better’ he says as you feel his lips give you a small kiss on the clit. You let out a gasp at the sensation of his lips on your most sensitive part. Dmitri looks up at you smiling. ‘I must say Y/N you do have a perfect pussy’ he says as he lick a long stripe in between your folds. ‘Fuck’ you moan at the connection. ‘You like that? Tell me. What do you think about when you touch yourself on my bed’ Dmitri says as he begins to move his tongue all around your throbbing core. You try to speak but it’s hard, his tongue does fucking wonders. He lays it flat and licks from your hole to your clit constantly licking up and down. His pace starts to quicken and you are moaning mess. You feel Dmitri teeth nip your clit causing you to whimper at the new sensation. ‘I asked you a question. Answer if you want me to carry on’ Dmitri says in a low commanding voice looking up at you with a wet moustache. ‘I, I think about you’ you say in a near whisper. ‘Tell me what I am doing to you’ he says as his lips attach back to your clit and he begins to suck at his. ‘Fuck!’ You buck your hips up. ‘You, you fucking me. L-licking my pussy. Fingers. God! Anything about you. You, I, I’m obsessed with you’ you moan out as he swirls his tongue around your throbbing bud. Dmitri smiles at your words. ‘Fuck I knew you were a naughty girl’ Dmitri says into your pussy. His fingers come stroking along the up and your thigh and without a word he plunges two fingers back into your pussy. You jolt forward causing your wrists to move, the belt digs into you but you don’t care. With the combination and his tongue on your clit and his fingers pumping in and out if you, the similar feeling comes back. You clench around Dmitri’s fingers feeling your orgasms approaching. ‘You want to cum?’ Dmitri asks looking up at you, he thinks you look beautiful. ‘Y-yes!’ You moan as his fingers curl into your reaching a new spot. ‘Should I let you cum Y/N? You were after all very naughty’ Dmitri says in a teasing tone as his fingers slow down. ‘P-please! You, you can do anything to me!’ You plead, you feel your eyes tearing up as you’ve been close to cumming three times now. Once by yourself and two by Dmitri. You need to let go. ‘Anything?’ He says as his fingers pick up again. ‘Fuck yes, anything!’ Your whole body moves as Dmitri’s fingers fuck you. ‘Cum for me then you whore’ Dmitri says before his tongue latches back onto your throbbing bud as he licks it relentlessly. It’s almost too much. The feeling comes back, your legs shake uncontrollably as you feel yourself about to snap, but another feeling comes. ‘S-stop, I I need to pee’ you beg. But Dmitri does not stop. He buries his fingers deep inside until his knuckles are almost in, his tongue swirling around your clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck’ you scream and yourself a release finally. You feel like your peeing as a liquid comes out of you and coats Dmitri’s tongue and fingers. It all becomes too much as Dmitri does not stop. ‘P-please. To too much’ you breath out heavily. Dmitri detaches his tongue from you, ‘I thought you liked being a whore’ Dmitri says as his fingers still buried deep. ‘But, but I need to touch you’ you beg to him. Dmitri’s eyebrows rise and a smile reaches from eye to eye. His fingers finally moving out from you. He leans forward towards you bringing your fingers to you mouth. ‘Open’ he commands. You do as your told and open your mouth. ‘Taste yourself’ he says, you can’t help but obey. You wrap you lips around and begin to suck his fingers dry tasting yourself. ‘See how good you taste?’ He says taking his fingers out your mouth, you lips make a popping sound, drool runs down your chin

‘I am going to ruin you even more. So much so you won’t remember your name. Y/N, this belongs to me now. No one else. Understand?’ He says cupping your pussy. You nod. ‘Words’ Dmitri reminds you with a light slap on the clit. You buck up at him. ‘Yours. J-Just yours’ you say feeling already fucked out your mind. ‘Good girl’ Dmitri says as he stands on the bed, bringing his cock in front of your face. Your mouth drools at the sight of it. ‘Open’ Dmitri commands again moving his thumb to your bottom lip. You do as he says. Without wanting Dmitri slams his cock into your mouth hitting the back of your throat making you gag and gasp for air. He pulls out and looks down on you. ‘You did say anything Y/N’ Dmitri says as he grabs your hair and pushes you back onto his cock. He doesn’t push it all the way like before but he begins to fuck your mouth. Dmitri’s so fucking big it’s a struggle at first but once you control your breathing it becomes easier. ‘Бля, такая хорошая девочка, забирающая меня целиком’ (fuck such a good girl taking me whole) Dmitri moans into you. You do not understand him but hearing his native language does something to you. His speed picks up as his cock hits the back of your throat again, you hallow out your cheeks so you can take him in more easily. Dmitri’s moans above you are more beautiful than you imagined you moan around him. The extra vibrations make Dmitri moan louder. Dmitri looks down at you to see you looking up, tears rolling down your face, drool all over your chin. He wants to cum so bad but he needs to feel you. Dmitri yanks your hair pulling you off his cock, you catch your breath. Dmitri leans down to you. ‘That’s how a whore sucks. Such a good girl.’ What he does next is unexpected and takes you back. His lips kiss yours, it’s gentle. Just a quick one. He pulls back and looks at you with a smile. ‘Now I’m going to fuck that perfect pussy’ You clench around nothing at his words. Dmitri stands down back onto the bed, he leans down to undo the belt freeing you. Your wrists are definitely bruised but you don’t care. You lay back down as Dmitri gets closer, so you are chest to chest. Your heart beats faster than before. Even after everything you’ve done this feels the most intimate. Dmitri likes up his cock to your pussy, ‘Ready?’ He asks. ‘Ready’ you reply wrapping your legs around his back brining him in closer. Dmitri pushes his cock into you, you both let out a loud moan as you feel him all inside of you. He doesn’t give you a minute to adjust before he start thrusting in and out of you. ‘ебать’ (fuck) Dmitri moans as he finally feels your wet walls around his throbbing cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders leaving crescent marks as you feel him hitting new places. Your feet digging into the bottom of his back, you were already close. ‘D-Dmitri, g-gonna cum!’ You moan as you clench around him. ‘Cum Y/N’. Cum on my dick’ Dmitri says as he latches his teeth on your neck biting it hard. ‘Dmitri!’ You scream his name as you cum all around his cock. As you clench around Dmitri’s cock cumming he is not far behind, ‘бля, наполню тебя. засунуть в себя ребенка, чтобы все знали, кто ты!’ (Fuck, gonna fill you up. Put a baby in you so everyone knows who you are!) You clench again at his words, sending him over the edge. He looks at you as he fills you up, he’s got an even prettier cum face than you imagined. Dmitri closes his eyes and doesn’t move for a minute as he catches his breath. You can’t help but stare at him, you can’t believe how your nights gone. You smile lovingly at him, Dmitri opens his eyes to see you looking at him. He can’t help but smile back, you are perfect. He leans down bringing your lips together again for another kiss. ‘So your not mad I fuck myself in your bed?’ You say in a teasing tone. Dmitri shakes his head. ‘Words’ you say just like what he said earlier. Dmitri laughs, ‘No, I do not mind. I’m very fucking glad. Now you don’t need to. Not now you’ve got me’ he says lifting his hand to move hair behind your ear.

‘Want to know a secret?’ Dmitri asks you. ‘Pre tell’ you reply curiously. Dmitri leans down to your ear, you feel his breath on your ear. ‘You’re not the only one to please themselves in someone else’s bed’ he says seductively. You clench around his now hard cock. You were in for one hell of a night

[doctorstrangereview]

0095: Marvel Premiere #6

Cover Date: January 1973 On-Sale Date: October 24, 1972

For this issue, the fill-in artist if Frank Brunner. It gives us a glimpse into the near future when Englehart and Brunner take over as the regular creatives for a decent length of time. Robert E. Howard continues to get credited with "featuring concepts created by" while Howard P. Lovecraft continues to be ignored despite being the stronger influence. There's an interesting first. Doc purposely kills not one, but two villains in this issue.

Picking up directly from the previous issue, Ebora is closing in on Doc who's trapped in a crevasse. This isn't as hopeless a situation as we're led to believe. Doc has the plan of grabbing Ebora's trident out of her evil hands using that handy cloak of levitation. Clever Doc!

Ebora thinks she can leave Doc to drown in the rising waters. His legs are still trapped after all. Like many people in Doc's orbit, including Doc himself, they don't clean up their messes assuming that the circumstances will finish the job instead of doing it themselves. Well, Doc uses the trident to free himself and caption describes his leg muscles as powerful! I'll bet Clea is a happy girl!

As Doc swims away, a familiar shape starts to follow. The incompetent demon, Sliggith still wants a piece of him. Doc manages break the surface and gulp down some air right before Sliggith grabs one of his powerful legs and drag him under.

Doc, still under the influence of Starkesboro's evil aura that cancels out most of his magic (I guess the Vishanti's time limit was reached) has to turn to the physical again. Good thing he's got those powerful legs! Doc grabs the Sliggith cross and gives the lizard dude a swift bonk on the head. I'm guessing his arms are powerful too!

And there you have it. Doc holds Sliggith's gills shut. Doc straight out murders him.

Sliggith's death causes the next Gardner Fox weirdo to wake up and we are introduced to N'Gabthoth, the Shambler from the Sea.

The suction cup fingers are a nice touch! Meanwhile, Clea and Wong arrive at Starkesboro and immediately run into someone names Johnny Frames who followed his fiancé Deborah back to their hometown. Jonny appears to be Ethan Stoddard-lite. He distracts our supporting cast long enough for the town's lizard-folk to overwhelm them.

They chain the trio to an altar on a cliff and Ebora uses her cleavage to summon N'Gabthoth.

We change scene to Kaa-U where The Ancient One by the little shrunken people from Phantasm Shadowmen. The Ancient One thinks "I can't do anything to help myself here, I'll go check on Stephen." The old boy goes ghost and heads to Starkesboro. Doc is flying over the countryside and sees his underlings (and a stranger) about to get eaten by suction cup fingered thing.

The three really freak out, understandably so. In the nick of time Doc swoops down to the rescue! The cyclopean Shambler's eye beam is too much for Doc who comes crashing down. Ebora thinks she's got this nailed down. But Doc musters up enough mojo to break the captive trio's chains.

Wong, Clea, Johnny and the lizard-folk start beating the crap out of each other while Ebora cajoles N'Gabthoth to kill Doc. Doc thinks he's done. But this is the moment when The Ancient One, in ghost form, arrives and cancels out the towns naughty aura. He's filling in for the Vishanti. With full power, the Shambler isn't much more of a challenge than Sliggith and he runs away. The Ancient One gets particularly vicious.

Doc is like "Nah. Gotta find out where he's going. Then I'll kill him." The Shambler runs back to the Sliggith church and gets and adorably sinister chest hidden under the floorboards.

The two duke it out until Doc finally overwhelms him. Once N'Gabthoth is subdued, we get murder number two!

Doc reunites with his underlings to check out the cute chest. Johnny frets about losing Deborah after all the lizard-folk retreat to the hills. Then feels that his problems aren't really a big deal compared to the man in the cape who just murdered his opponent. Don't worry, when we return to this scene next issue Johnny will have disappeared as if he'd never existed. Doc, Clea and Wong check out the parchment in the adorable chest. It's got a drawing of Stonehenge on it. Guess where we're heading next!

This is a fun one. Gardner Fox displays his usual funky weird style here. He doesn't have the greatest grasp on Doc. Doc has said at least once, but probably multiple times that he is pledged never to take a life. He murders twice in this issue. I can maybe excuse Sliggith because Doc, lacking most of his power, saw no other way to stop him. It's still a lame excuse. For the Shambler, he was at full strength and could have banished him (see next issue for more of this.) Even The Ancient One, who's been a bit shady in the past, seems out of character with the vicious "kill him" attitude.

I don't know why Johnny Frames was introduced. He's completely unnecessary. He doesn't even consume any real estate to stretch the story. A copy of a character introduced two issues ago just gets shoehorned into the story. He even completely vanishes by the next issue. Perhaps Fox just wanted a normie in the story.

Overall, it's a good middle-arc story. We get a couple of one-shot monsters who are mildly interesting, but, fortunately, won't show up again because they're not that interesting. We get an ending that moves the plot. The story doesn't lag and has some good action. We get more evidence that even bereft of magic, Doc has the ability to handle the situation.

[matan4il]

Hi, I’ve seen some gifs of that Thai show, but are those two actors together in real life too?

Hi lovely Nonnie!

Oh wow, I did not expect an ask about Kinnporsche The Series / Mileapo, but I probably should have since I went off a bit in the tags of that gifset reblog, didn't I? XD Please never take me too seriously whenever I claim two specific individuals have invented love, I'm just joking around. Unless I'm talking about David and Jonathan, because they totally did. ;p

But if I'm to try and answer seriously, I would say that officially, the last time either Mile or Apo have addressed the issue of their romantic status, they both said they're single (Mile in Aug 2022, Apo in July 2021 if I'm not mistaken). Of course, that's also the response I would expect from them if they were together. Because just like there are opposite sex couples who meet on the sets of movies and TV shows, and fall in love or just have an affair, there are same sex couples who go through the same thing. The difference is that society (and the entertainment business even more so) is still so homophobic, that these same sex couples often can't come out. I mean, if opposite sex couples sometimes feel they need to keep it to themselves, and we only find out about their romances decades later, like in the case of Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve (if we find out about them at all), then imagine how much harder it is for same sex couples who fall in love as co-stars... (or even when there's a same sex celebrity couple, period)

Other than Mile, Apo and the people they trust, no one really knows if Mileapo actually are a couple and have to be closeted, or if they're just truly the best of friends who bonded so much as co-stars on the set of KPTS that their behavior is hard to distinguish from the way lovers act towards each other. We also have to take into account that they're from Thailand, and the cultural norms for how men are allowed to interact can be very different. Especially when we remember that they starred in a BL (gay themed show) together, and the norm for that is heavy fan service. I AM convinced that even then, their bond runs deeper than fan service, especially since the original production of KPTS was canceled, and the production company that was set up instead explicitly said it would not require fan service. Plus, this company was co-founded by Mile to save KPTS and give Apo his second chance to shine as an actor, after he had been previously bullied by homophobes into leaving the acting world. So yeah, I have every reason to believe their connection is real.

And the fact that this is a part of their unhinged story (that they met briefly as models 7 years before they auditioned for KPTS, that they obviously thought the other one is an attractive man and remembered each other all of these years, that Mile watched Apo's shows, that they re-connected at the auditions and seem to have been inseparable since, for over 2.5 years now, that they fought together for KPTS to be made and then gave us on screen an astounding love story, that they chose to go on working together on their next projects, including the upcoming queer film Man Suang, and continue to hang out even outside of their busy schedule together) brings us to what is most meaningful to me about them. Whether their bond is romantic or platonic, it's clearly so deep that I wouldn't hesitate to call them soulmates. They love and care for each other, support one another, and I think they healed each other in ways that make me feel soft and happy to know that such love exists in the world. So I'm going to continue rooting for them, and possibly joke about it like I know that they're a couple, because in a very profound sense of the word, even if it's not romantic, they are.

This was probably way too long, my apologies. Okay, have a Mileapo being in sync gif just to make it a bit better...

Have a good day! As always, my ask tag. xoxox

[theknightmarket]

Okay, okay. Hear me out. Damien...during his college days. Long before the events of WKM. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted in life yet, maybe he did but was struggling to keep himself on track. That's where our dear reader/future DA comes in.

- Alexandrite

P. S. I appreciate the love! Hopefully I can start out on that project soon 💜

“What if I just sit here and die?”

In which Damien is plagued by indecision, and the only hope in sight is one confident stranger.   

[This is a two-parter, since this has been in my inbox for a while, and I really wanted to get something out. Here's the second part!]

TW: cursing, self-deprecation

Pages: 16 – Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Mid-life crises were common in the university. So much so that you could expect every fifth lecture to be cancelled due to the professor’s collapsing mindset. Was this worth it? Would it lead to anything more? Or was the crumbling of the bridge catching up to you? These were questions that every member of staff asked themselves when they stepped foot onto the campus in the morning.

Mid-life crises were less common among the actual students. For one, most of them were not halfway through their lives, and, secondly, they had nothing to worry about. Half of them would have tracked down future employers, a quarter just waiting to get in on daddy’s company, and the final group filling out the few details on an army enrolment form. Really, crises weren’t only uncommon, they were near impossible to find, like tracking down a fish that didn’t know how to swim yet. Either they were rooted out at the very beginning of the year, or they learned to battle the tides – the only other option was drowning under assignments and expectations. 

And that was what made it so much worse for those select students. Their rarity left them completely alone in the educational world, fleeing from commitments as fast as they could make them. Another reason why they were hard to find was simply because they never left their rooms. They’d wake up, go to class, and then return to their homes while everyone else was out living life with the security of a life after this. It was horror to watch out the window, and torture to hear all of the pushing and nagging from the few friends they might have had. 

Damien was in this unusual group of students, and William was the friend. Go figure, they were in Damien’s dorm room, the man himself staring out the blue-stained glass at a distant football game, while Will tinkered with the knick-knacks on his shelf. If there was one detail that Damien did not fit into, it was that his friend was not pushing and nagging him. Instead, he seemed more interested in the random assortment of objects scattered around his room. 

Placing down a broken slingshot, Will sighed, “I don’t know why you’re so high-strung about this.” 

Damien could do nothing more than sigh; he wondered that too, more times than he could count on two hands. It was an unfortunate routine he had trapped himself in, one that left him in this very position after each and every lecture. He just… he found it hard to understand what everyone else found simple. The professor would say some mumbo-jumbo, a phrase he was sure the guy made up on the spot, and his classmates would nod along, like doing laps in a kiddy-pool. Meanwhile, he was left up a creak without a paddle. Eventually, it would get to be too much, and he’d flop down face first into his pillow and hope to wake up when he could get it. 

The only thing that he actually woke up to was William pounding on his door. He opened it, Will barged in, he asked what was wrong and, not long after, they were in this scenario. The third one this week, if Damien was counting correctly, but he couldn’t be sure that he was able to, at this point. 

“It’s only my entire future and wellbeing,” he replied, barely able to get the words out without straying into the fog of his thoughts. 

Will’s only response was a simple, “Exactly,” – and one that had him falling into the creaky chair beside him, still in view of the field but supported, as if thinking about this dilemma was taking a physical toll on him. 

“What if I just sit here and die?” he muttered. Really, it looked like a better option than worrying all the time. 

“Then you will be sorely missed.” 

William plucked a stack of cards from one of the shelves across the wall and flicked through it like a picture book. A few times they and their friends had gotten together for game nights, but Damien had only won once, and that was when half the group was drunk off their heads and the others too busy stopping them from hurting themselves to notice his crumbling poker-face. After that, he was the designated underdog in poker nights. 

So, gambling his way into fortune was out of the question. 

“It’s better than suffering here.”

The bed to his left dipped down as Will practically threw himself on top of it. The cards exploded out of his hands and across the sheets, as if he were spreading seeds throughout a garden. He was lucky that nothing fell on the floor, or Damien might have opened that window and thrown himself out of it. A bit of an overdramatic reaction, but what else was he supposed to do? There was only so much he could take, and anymore trouble was liable to push him over the edge, be it spilt cards, extra projects or students coming down the hall just slightly too loudly. 

Will didn’t seem bothered by it, though; he blew his moustache away from his mouth and started to collect the cards again. “Then you drop out,” he answered lackadaisically, “or you stay in, who cares? It’ll get you to stop worrying, at least.”

From his spot by the window, he watched as the university football team emptied onto the field. He didn’t know any of them personally, but, from where he was sitting, it looked like an easy life. Throw a ball, then get tackled for it - laugh along with your peers without a care in the world, except for who had the thing next. If only his days were that simple.

“I have to get this degree.” 

“Says who?”

“Every possible employer.”

Technically, this degree was a bit of a stretch. Most of the law offices just wanted any Bachelor’s, but Damien had already switched twice at the start of the year, experiences that had made him too scared to set foot near that block of offices again. He had landed on a Bachelor of Public Affairs and Policy Management, which was a mouthful, for one reason and one reason only. 

It was the one that his dart hit when he chucked it at the board. 

Finally having all the suits in one hand, Will huffed, “Ah, what do they know anyway? When I was your age, you only had to walk in with a smile and can-do attitude to get a job.”

Damien blinked. “You’re younger than me.” Not to mention that the only career that was possible in was, go figure, the military. Sometimes he questioned if his friend would be able to get any other profession, but there was no other choice than being a raging, gun-wielding madman willing to die for a badge.

“What I’m saying is,” Will shifted to sit up straighter on the mattress, “this degree should not decide your future, but you’re letting it.”

“No, I’m not,” Damien sighed back.

“Are, too!”

The image of William staring at him with a pointed figure, a bloodhound that had caught his unfortunate scent, was getting on his nerves the second it appeared. He wasn’t letting the degree decide anything, because he could barely make a decision, as is. If it were to make the choice for him, the better it would be for everyone. For him. 

Damien looked back to the football game.

“Either you get a grip on the situation, or you don’t.”

They seemed to be having fun.

“There are so many other jobs out there that you’re suited to.”

Sure, some of them were hurt, but the comradery seemed worth it.

“If you want to be stuffed in an office all day, you could be an accountant- ah, no, you’re terrible at math… Damien, are you hearing me?”

Maybe he should join the football team.

“Damien?”

God, no, he’d hate that. 

“Damien!”

He whipped his head to face Will, ready to give him a piece of his mind, but stopped short of letting it all out. He was only trying to help, he reasoned to himself, even if his ‘help’ was anything but at the moment. 

So, instead, he let his shoulders drop and eyes cast to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand, Will.”

He didn’t have the same reservations about snapping. “Like hell I wouldn’t!” William yelled, “I’ve listened to you go on and on about this course, I should think I know what you’re going through by now.” 

Now, Damien’s parents were always very hesitant to visit him, or get in touch with him in any other way – ever since he had moved out for university, they had preoccupied themselves with finding Celine a husband. He was empathetic, of course, but there was a larger part of him that was relieved for their attention being off of him. In this moment, however, he realized just how relieved he should have been. The hands on his side, the near scowl, the suspenders. Will looked like the poster boy for disappointed fathers, and Damien was not a fan of this role reversal. 

He shook his head and leaned forwards, lacing his hands over his mouth, “I’m the one talking, and I barely know what I’m going through.”

“Look,” Will pat his shoulder, “the worst thing you could do it drop out entirely, so why not stick with it, eh?”

“But what if it’s all a waste of time?”

“Then it’ll be a waste of time. Hell, you could always come join me in the military.”

This forced a laugh out of Damien, something he was thankful for, but confused at his sudden joke. Hadn’t he just been chewing him out? He chocked it up to wanting to change the mood. “Very funny, Will.” 

He didn’t laugh. 

“Are you serious?”

That’s when his cold façade wilted, and he pounced forward to grip his friend’s upper arms. That old smile was back, and a large grin paraded onto his mouth. There was practically the sparkle of a thousand stars in his eyes as he spoke with such enthusiasm that Damien would have thought he was recounting a moment of heroism. 

“Oh, think about it! We’d go into battle together, whip out our gats, and get shot in the chests by the enemy—” a wistful sigh escaped him, “—can’t you just imagine it?”

With a chuckle more nervous than before, Damien removed his friend’s hands and placed them back on Will’s hips. It was a weird movement that he was surprised he let happen, but the man was more focused on Damien’s words of, “I think I would prefer something… less life-threatening?”

A pout. “You’re no fun.” After he moved to return the playing cards to the shelf, giving Damien time to breath in his personal space again, he bounced back to the bed. “And a career in law isn’t life-threatening?” he partially joked. 

“Not any more than a battlefield.”

A deadpan look overcame Will, a slow blink, and then he counted on his fingers while replying, “Political violence, riots, assassinations…” 

Damien threw his head back with a groan, some of his hair coming askew.

“Ah. Sorry, friend.”

He really knew how to cheer a guy up, huh? Why he even called on him anymore was beyond him, but who else was free to listen to his lamentations. He was becoming a broken record, though he wasn’t happy with it, and he had all but exhausted the rest of his options. Mark gave up after his first crisis, and Celine told him the cut and dry without a second opinion, leaving William the only one to actually hear him out, even if his advice was less than good. After him, the only thing left was talking to the wall. 

Not that he needed to resort to that, because, seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Damien squinted at his friend, suspicious of some ambush he’d orchestrated, but he looked just as surprised to hear the sound as he was. So, while he watched, Will moved to swing the wood open. 

“Ah, Celine!”

God, no. 

“Is Damien in there?”

Why did she decide that now was the best time to check up on him? His inner complaints didn’t matter; at Will’s chipper reply of, “Yep,” she shouldered past him and glared down at her brother, even more disappointed than Will had been. 

Celine had always been an oddball, and he could say that, because he had spent the first sixteen years of his life tied to her hip. Whenever their parents told her to do something, she would ask why, and when they answered, she would ask why again. To the point, she was curious and determined, a combination that the locals thought discouraging for a woman. Of course, she didn’t care. The snide comments rolled off her like water on a duck’s back, and she went about her days doing whatever she wanted to. Even now, she had invested her life into the dark arts, one of the hobbies that separated her from the rest of her family, but Damien never saw reason to stop her. He was worried for her, granted, but that was only because of certain… events that proved it was a dangerous practice. He was just glad to have her in his life. 

Although, at that moment, he regretted sticking so close to her. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded the second she stopped within two inches of him, a glower clear on her face. 

“Wallowing.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.” 

Surmising the last half hour in two sentences put things into perspective, but that just made him fall deeper into the pit with how much time he had wasted. 

Celine, expression as blank as a mannequin’s, answered bluntly, “You’re going into the law sector.” 

Damien could do naught but sigh. That much was easy to get, it was just the next months that were going to be tough. “I know, but…” he trailed off, trying his best to avoid her scornful eyes.

“Not ‘but’. You’re going to do it, and that’s final.”

“How do I get through the year?”

Celine looked at him like he was dumb. “You do the work, take the exams, get the degree.”

“You say that like it’s simple.” 

He hadn’t realized that the ‘you really are stupid’ look on her face could intensify, but, apparently, it could. “It is.” 

Damien hated it when she looked down on him – literally and figuratively, and, this time, the combination of the two exchanged his sorrow for something else. The way she spoke boiled his blood, she hadn’t even gone to university, and there she was, talking to him with sure-fire confidence that was going to get her into trouble! Damien loved his sister, he really did, but there was only so much advice and simplification that he could handle. Will, who was standing idly in the corner with a notebook in one hand, had loaded him with the bags, while Celine added the last straw that broke his back. 

“You know what?” he huffed, shooting to stand up straight. His eyeline met Celine’s, passed by to glare at William, and then returned to his sister. If they really wanted to give out unnecessary opinions, they could commentate that football game. “Out.”

“Damien,” she spoke, simple but stern, but he wasn’t having it. 

“Not ‘Damien’—” he pushed at her shoulders and guided her towards the door again, Will standing to attention beside her, “—leave my dorm room. Go on, out you go.”

Halfway through the doorway, Celine called over her shoulder, “You’re going to have to decide sooner or later.”

“Oh, I thought you’d decided for me.”

“Dam—”

She was cut off by Damien yelling, “Goodbye!” and slamming the door behind the two of them. He felt slightly bad when one of his photos collapsed onto the floor from the shaking of the wall, but he himself was shaking too much to care. To ensure he wouldn’t be bothered again, he dragged the wooden chair away from the window and lodged it underneath the door handle, falling onto it within the next second. 

His group of friends were pushy, stressful and beyond annoying in the best of occasions – but they were his friends, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He just… wanted some time to talk through his knot of thoughts without comments or advice or anyone trying to convince him to do anything else. Yes, he realized that he had no clue what he was doing, but he didn’t need anyone coming in, uphauling his life and telling him what to do with it. He only wanted to be okay. 

That got incredibly harder to do when yet another hit against the door caught his attention. All of his thoughts of peace and calm smashed out the window like frantic doves, while Damien himself all but chucked the chair back where it came from. Not even a second into his break, and someone had to interrupt him! He swore that if it were Celine and William again, he would break something. 

“I told you—oh.”

Except it wasn’t them. In fact, it wasn’t anyone he had spoken to before in his life. 

You were practically a stranger to him. 

That was a regrettable fact, due in no small part to you having shared a class for the last year and a half. Despite Damien not speaking up in class a lot, there was the odd moment that he would hear you answering a question or posing a problem to the leading professor. They always had the ability to make him more secure in the knowledge that you asked about, but it didn’t help when you understood something completely. Hell, sometimes he’d be on the brink of walking up to you and getting the answer from you directly but chickening out at the last second was a fond habit of his. To conclude, he knew nothing of you and you nothing of him. So, that begged the question: why were you standing outside his door, fist still raised in the air and a shocked look in your eye?

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.” 

You visibly swallowed. Had he made a bad impression already? What was he saying, of course, he had. 

“I’m, uh, I’m new- well, new to the campus, I mean,” you laughed lightly to stave off some of the awkwardness that permeated the space between you both, “I’ve been here a while, and I just wanted to introduce myself to the people around my dorm.” You sent a glance over his shoulder and, presumably, spotted the toppled chair. “Sorry if I disturbed you?”

Damien rushed to answer, “No, no, not at all. I just had some visitors.” He could feel the heat radiating off his face, no less sure that it was doused in a fire-hydrant red. 

Nodding slowly, a smile crept over your mouth. “Okay, well, I’m just down the hall in 53. I’ll be seeing you around?”

Damien, too, nodded, but with double the speed and triple the nervousness. He was terrible at socialising, and the icing on the cake was when he, barely conscious of his body, outstretched one hand. Etiquette training from his parents really paid off, huh? He’d made a fool of himself in the first minute of meeting someone, probably even less if you’d heard his yelling. Maybe this was a sign that he should switch university entirely, get away from this horrid introduction with one of the only people willing to be friendly with him. And, great, he must be flailing in the interaction because even his hand is blushing now!

Or going insane, if him forgetting that hands don’t blush was anything to go by; in reality, you were just shaking it back. 

Your hand was… warm. That was the first thing he noticed, the second being the style of your handshake – it was firm and definite, but not mean-spirited. Analysing it might have been weird, but it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from spiralling or squeezing too hard. 

The pressure left quickly, though, and while your mouth moved to say a formal goodbye, Damien didn’t hear a word of it. He was too focused on the possibility of someone to talk to who wasn’t a childhood friend. It both excited him and had him biting back panic. 

As calmly as he could, he closed the door after you’d moved down the hallway. God forbid you or anyone else see him such a mess. He made it a half-step in front of his bed before he collapsed dramatically overtop it. He would have to tread lightly in lectures now, even more than he had before, and that was not something he was looking forward to. 

That following morning, when he shuffled out of the floor of students and into the classroom, Damien was prepared. His plan was set in stone; to get to his desk, set out his books, avoid any and all eye contact with you or anyone associated with you until the class was over, and then leave, possibly to never return, but that was par for the course. He had just about completed the first part of his plan when you arrived, followed swiftly by a couple of your friends. 

Damien dared not look up from the wood as you situated yourself, in your usual seat and ready to get started. He appreciated your enthusiasm, but it didn’t stop at the requirements of electoral candidates. No, unfortunately for him and his steadily cracking stone, it extended to your social skills. 

Once your eyes caught his, you didn’t miss a beat in stalling your conversation with a friend to shoot him a smile and wave. Damien could feel his heart in his throat even after you had looked away. That spark in your eye – it was so mesmerizing, like a firefly that he wanted to put in a jar for safe-keeping. It was a weird feeling to suddenly want to learn about something, be engaged in the present, just because you were. It almost made him laugh; it took you two seconds to do what all of the guidance counsellors on the campus couldn’t do in two years. You really were something, huh? 

While Damien was busy flipping his brain on, you were barely awake. To be honest, you hadn’t slept well the night before, and a class as early as this one was bound to make you none the better. Upon stepping foot through the room’s door, you had been ready to call it quits right then and there – but who did you see but that guy, the one with the dark, combed back hair and alarmingly striking eyes, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you. Damien, if you remembered correctly from the first day on the course. Back then, you had sat at the back, and watched as everyone told the professor their name, his reactions, their reactions to those reactions, and so on, and so forth. It was an exercise in futility because you almost immediately forgot everything you had paid attention to. Or you thought you had, completely and utterly blown from your mind. 

But then there was Damien. Now, you hadn’t said a word to him in the time you’d been in a class together and you hadn’t even known he lived on campus until yesterday. It was a turn of fate that the room George Jacobs had vacated was down the hall from him, and that he was the only one still there to answer the door. 

Everyone else had been down watching that football game, cheering on their selected team. However, you had no sentimental attachments to anything yet, you didn’t care which team won or lost or got injured or called out unfairly by the referee. You were more concerned with the people who would be around you for the next couple months, though your worry went uncomforted because every door that you rapped upon was empty. Either that, or they heard you coming and vowed not to open up. 

You made your way down the hall, shined shoes reflecting the lights of torches on the wall. Even though it was only just getting into autumn, the nights were getting darker, and the days were getting shorter, and you were wondering if investing in fluffy jackets was the right thing to do. As you waltzed across the clean rug, you let your eyes wander. The decorations weren’t half bad; a bunch of old but pretty paintings spread across the walls, and plant pots lining certain doorways. A golden fire extinguisher hung worryingly used at the end, but before you could get to it, you stopped. 

From out one of the rooms, 61 or 62 from your point of view, two people exited. Exited was a general term, really, because they looked to be more shoved out than leaving on their own accord. They exchanged a few words before the darker haired one grabbed the other’s hand and dragged them down the corridor opposite you. Neither spared you a glance before they were out into the stairwell, but that was fine by you, because you were more focused on the door slamming closed after them. 

Anyone else might have been put off by such a clear sign of aggression, but you were far from anyone else. This, to you, only showed that someone was home, and that was someone you were going to introduce yourself to. Besides, you had come out here to see who you were going to live near, and a nameless student with at least two friends and anger issues was a hell of a way to start. 

So, with more of a bounce in your step than before, you jogged up to the door. It loomed in front of you, the peephole practically staring daggers into your soul, until you raised a fist and knocked a rhythm against the wood. Barely a second had gone by before a crash slipped around the hinges and the door whirled open. 

“I told you—oh.”

Your eyebrows jumped halfway up your forehead, registering a slightly familiar face and a completely unfamiliar reaction. It was unexpected and had you pressing your backfoot into the ground in surprise. You’d noticed Damien once or twice in the back of the class, the guy who was always present and presumably ready at the start of the lecture. Thinking back on it, you don’t think you’ve seen that classroom empty. He’d never taken a sick day or been late, and that left you with a somewhat skewed impression of him, not that you knew it was sorely incorrect. 

But all in all, you’d thought that the silent, collected bystander in the class would be the last one to burst out with such a tone. You were left subtly speechless while he looked on in apparent disbelief. 

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.”

And the conversation continued – if you could call it that – in relative awkwardness. You tried to be nice, introduce yourself as your family had taught you to, but you couldn’t help but think that something was… off about the interaction. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was you, or maybe it was just dumb luck that Damien didn’t look like he wanted to talk then. The interaction was quick and efficient, the worst combination for a good chat to be, in your opinion. It left you wondering if you should apologise and start again, maybe during work hours when you weren’t intruding on his personal time. 

While the whole moment was lacklustre, there was one take away that had you looking forward to the next day; Damien had shaken your hand, not something you had expected, but it gave you some information, all the same. A handshake was indicative of someone’s personality, and this time, you were very interested in the results. First of all, Damien had initiated it, so the leading theory was that he was confident when in his own space, when he had the most control. Second was something that contradicted it, though, since his barely-there pressure hinted that he was not sure in his social skills but that he still had them. Likely engrained in him from an early age – like singing a song, but not understanding the lyrics. Finally, and this was your thought as you began to walk back to your room, you were the one to let go. You weren’t a shrink, not by any means, however, you thought yourself good at reading people. It seemed that Damien’s impulse to shake your hand might have started from tradition but continued with the physical touch of your hand. That look in his eye was far-away, the pupils locked onto your handshake, and a faint scattering of red along his cheekbones. People in the university often desired closeness, and you had a feeling Damien was no different. You almost apologized when you let go. 

To conclude, Damien, confident in his area, well-taught but timid, impersonally romantic, and, although it was something you didn’t catch from his handshake, handsome to boot. To say you were intrigued would be an understatement. 

And that was exactly why you found yourself checking the clock and walking up to Damien’s desk. You had to manoeuvre around a lot of other tables, giving him plenty of time to notice you, but he was still staring distantly at his notebook when you came to a stop next to him. 

You cleared your throat. “Hey, there.”

The second that the first syllable made its way out of your mouth, he looked up in surprise, like you’d just told him the president had died. His expression was almost horrified, which wasn’t the way that you wanted to start this interaction, but you could adapt. 

To ground yourself, you leaned back on the desk behind you. The wooden legs creaked and bent under your weight, though they stayed upright while you collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to scare him, far from it, you just wanted to get to know him a little. You weren’t the best at making friends, most of the people you spend time with being the people from down your street when you were a child, so this was a new, but welcome, challenge. 

But first things first, you had to make sure he wasn’t going to run away at the first sign of you being anything but what was expected. 

“I’m sorry if I came off weird last night,” you started, edging your bets with a small chuckle. 

Damien’s eyes darted around your face, looking for something of which you had no clue, but it wasn’t long before they landed back on his notebook. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t… you’re fine.”

“Thanks, I’m, uh, not normally like that, I guess it was just weird being in a new place without any family.” 

“Well, that’s not always a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with this new information. It was a comment you hadn’t expected from him, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with those people coming out of his dorm room. After all, thinking back on it, that first one had the same dark shade of hair as the man before you did. It wouldn’t hurt to take a chance.

“Were the people last night your family?”

This encounter was going swimmingly, since he, apparently, hadn’t expected that from you either. This was a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, huh? 

It took him a second to realise that he was still in a conversation, but Damien’s answer came a moment after. “One of them, yes. My sister, Celine, my twin, actually.” 

“Oh, is she at the university, too?”

“No, no, she isn’t a fan of mass educational environments. Will isn’t either, but that’s what make them a pair.”

“Will?” 

By this time, a fuzzy feeling was rising in your chest, the same kind that you’d get when you clutched a hot water bottle close to you on a cold night. This was a conversation – you were having an actual conversation with someone you’d just formally met! You would have pat yourself on the back had you not been in public, but you noted it down for future reference when you were alone again. 

“Yes, he’s my friend. I’ve known him for years, ever since he accidentally shot a slingshot through my bedroom window.”

That drew a laugh from you, one that surprised the both of you as it came out. Etiquette be damned, that was funny, so you let your true feelings show. 

Your sudden chuckling brought forth Damien’s own few mimics, only interrupted by you shifting your arm to gesture towards your own group of friends. 

“That one’s James,” you commented, ‘that one’ being a blond, more on the shorter side, guy, heavy-set with an ironed shirt that he was nearly bursting out of. You moved your hand to the left, now pointing at a laughing woman, who had an arm wrapped around another boy’s shoulders. You supplied, “Kate and Michael,” before nodding at the last person sitting around the conglomeration of desks, “and Edward.” 

“They seem, uh, nice.”

It hadn’t been a joke, and yet you laughed anyway. You stopped yourself before it attracted any more attention than you had already garnered, and muttered, “Yeah, they sure seem it.” 

“I mean it,” Damien replied, grasping for his pen in the wake of a steadily rising blush. 

“I know you do,” you replied, humour clear in your voice, “but just you wait until you meet them.” 

Meet them? Damien’s redness shot out of him like a bullet as his eyebrows furrowed. You wanted him to meet your friends, or did you mean in general? He weighed the options and found that he’d rather you introduced him, not even considering the fact that you would be introducing him. 

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” you rushed to say when you noticed he looked almost conflicted.

“Oh, no, I do want to!” The words fled from him before he was aware that he was thinking them. It was only when he you smiled a bright, contagious smile, that he started to fiddle with the cap of his pen once more.

“Great!” You might’ve been embarrassed to admit that your heart beat slightly faster, your hands started to sweat, and the urge to scream tapped at the back of your throat. “We’ll get it set up, then, shall we? I was thinking maybe tomorrow at 12, or, if you’re busy, we—” 

“Can everyone take their seats?”

Your head snapped up on your shoulders, spine straightening, and your attention directed to the suddenly full classroom. Or, rather, not suddenly; you’d been too enthralled by getting Damien to talk to your friends that the students filing into the room flew under your radar – not even the person who normally sat in the seat you were occupying cared enough to ask you to move. They, notably, had set themself up where you normally would sit. 

The one time the class was actually full, and it was the time you were definitely going to embarrass yourself for it. 

Ignoring the brightening of your face and choking down an awkward laugh, you met the eyes of the professor at the front. He had this very specific look that you never thought you’d see directed at yourself, but there was a time for everything. It was almost smouldering to look at, and you weren’t sure if it was your face burning from your blush or from his glare.

“Oh, sir, I’m not—” you rushed to explain. 

The glare worsened. You swallowed. 

“Everyone, take your seats.”

You shuffled into the wooden chair of the desk you had been sitting on, confident in only one thing; that you’d made a fool of yourself. The impulse to slam your head through the table was strong, but you fought it if only to avoid further attention. Sheepishly, you cast a smile towards Damien, who offered back a smaller, but still genuine, grin of sympathy.

You could do this. Totally. Why wouldn’t you be able to? It was just sitting next to a potential new friend who had seen you mess up thrice now. 

What could go wrong?

 

[‘Hey, Alexandrite :D

Woah, two two-parters in a week?? Seriously though, apologies for the wait, exams have been kicking my ass. Also, this is a two-parter mainly because I think I just really like writing Damien’s dynamics with his friends. I’ll definitely be getting the second part out after exams all finish, though, so I hope it’ll be worth the wait]