#we love a meaningful silence and intense look

[falsenote]

Leila (1997)

[tsumuus]

monoma,, please,,, for your #2 prompt. the quote one. I like the quote you had as an example,, the first one. you can choose whos who (:

₊✩‧₊˚ neito monoma + prompt 2 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ “im not in love with you anymore” “i never knew you were” ˚₊✩‧₊

Late nights at U.A. always had a certain stillness to them. Most students had long gone to bed, the quiet halls lit only by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the windows. But for you, these late-night conversations with Neito Monoma were a routine. They often started with playful banter, little arguments that no one else understood, but somehow always ended in meaningful talks that stretched into the early morning.

You were perched on the edge of his dorm bed, cross-legged and twirling a loose thread from your jacket. Monoma was lying beside you, his arms behind his head as he gazed up at the ceiling, his usually sharp and teasing tone softened by the late hour.

"I'm glad I never lost you," Monoma said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You looked over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Why would you ever lose me?" you asked, half-joking.

"Because of my feelings," he replied quietly, and your heart gave a tiny skip at the unexpected seriousness in his voice. You shifted slightly, leaning closer.

"Your feelings?"

Monoma sighed, sitting up slightly so that he could face you. His eyes, usually brimming with mischief, were focused on you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. "I'm not in love with you anymore."

The words hung in the air, sinking into the quiet room, and you felt your breath catch. "I didn’t know you ever were," you whispered, your confusion clear in your voice.

Monoma blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice softer now, almost afraid to break whatever fragile thing was hanging between you. "You're not in love with me anymore? You were in love with me?"

His brows furrowed. "Yes, we've talked about this. You always turned me down, so I decided it was best to get over it before I ruined everything."

Your head spun, struggling to grasp what he was saying. "We talked about this?"

Monoma nodded, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "Yes, multiple times."

You stared at him, your mind racing back through all the conversations you’d had, trying to remember any moment that even hinted at a confession. "We’ve never once discussed this, Neito."

His confusion mirrored your own, and suddenly it felt like you were on two different planes of understanding. You never noticed. You had never realized he was trying to tell you how he felt all those times. And now, the weight of what you hadn't known crushed your chest.

Silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable.

"I didn't know," you whispered, feeling a dull ache form in your chest. Over the last few months, you had started seeing him differently. He was your best friend, but the longer you spent with him, the more you realized that your feelings had changed. And now, hearing that he had moved on while you were only just catching up—it hurt.

"I didn’t know you were in love with me." You forced a small laugh, but it was hollow. "And now it doesn’t even matter anymore."

Monoma’s face shifted into confusion again. "What? What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, pushing yourself up off his bed. "It's late. I should go." Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it, but the reality of the situation was too overwhelming. You needed to be alone to process it.

Monoma sat up quickly, his eyes wide with concern. "Wait-"

"I'll see you tomorrow," you cut him off, forcing a small smile before slipping out of his room. Your heart pounded in your chest as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway, trying to sort through everything that had just unfolded. He wasn’t in love with you anymore. But the ache in your chest was because you had fallen for him, and now it was too late.

Over the next few days, you couldn’t help but pull away from Monoma. It wasn’t intentional at first, but every time you saw him, a sinking feeling dragged you down, reminding you that whatever chance you might’ve had was gone. Conversations were shorter, and you didn’t stay for your usual late-night talks.

It didn’t take long for Monoma to notice. On the fifth day, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

Monoma: Come over, we need to talk.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you brushed it off. This was normal, right? The two of you talked all the time. There was nothing unusual about him asking you over. Still, as you made your way to his dorm, you couldn’t help the knot that twisted tighter in your stomach.

When you arrived, Monoma wasted no time. As soon as the door clicked shut, he turned to face you, his expression serious. "You've been avoiding me."

"I haven’t-"

"Yes, you have." His voice was firm, but there was something softer underneath, something that felt like worry. "What's going on?"

You swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eyes. "I didn’t know," you whispered.

"Didn’t know what?"

"About your feelings," you continued, your voice trembling slightly. "And when I finally realized I..." You trailed off, biting your lip. "I didn’t know you had moved on. It just... it hurt. Because I started to realize I have feelings for you too."

Monoma froze, his breath catching as your words sank in.

"But then you told me you weren’t in love with me anymore, so I thought-" You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look at him, your heart aching as you saw the shock in his eyes. "I thought I’d just get out of your way."

The silence was deafening, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything at all. But then Monoma stepped forward, closing the gap between you in two strides. Before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you.

It was sudden, and yet it felt like something that had been waiting to happen for a long time. When he pulled away, his voice was a soft murmur. "I never moved on."

You blinked up at him, your heart racing. "But you said-"

"I tried," Monoma admitted, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I tried to get over it because I didn’t want to lose you as a friend. But I never could. You’re too important to me."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you kissed him again. When you pulled back, you saw the soft look in his eyes, the same one you had always been too blind to notice.

"I guess we’re both pretty terrible at talking about feelings," you teased, your voice light.

Monoma chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time."

a/n longer then expected but legit could not leave it angsty, just had to end it with sme fluff

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

main masterlist

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Six*

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, Tali meets Simon, oral sex (M+F receiving)

The guys let off some steam

I stare up at Ghost's face, intense hazel eyes narrowing at me through the holes of his balaclava. For once, I'm almost scared of him. Almost.

"Ghost..." Johnny says, his voice hushed. My gaze darts across to the Scotsman to find him crossing the living room. He slows to a halt next to Ghost, placing a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder, "maybe we shouldn't do this tonight, eh? You've just got home. You need to let off some steam."

Ghost's eyes darken, not once leaving mine. "I'll let off some steam alright."

My heart is pounding in my throat now; my palms sweating and my legs quivering with anticipation. I press my thighs together, seeking some kind of relief. But it's not enough.

No. I want to know what he has in store for me. Even if I regret it later.

"Ghost..."

Johnny moves to Ghost's side and they share a look, Ghost's heavy gaze finally releasing me from its hold. A whole conversation is exchanged between the two of them in silence - a series of head tilts, and meaningful looks.

"Ask her nicely," is all Johnny says.

Ghost grunts and nods, turning his full attention back to me. "Alright, Tali - nicely - will you let us take you to bed?"

There's nothing nice about his tone. It's rough and gritty and entirely Ghost. Full of quiet, masculine rage, and bold, lustful promise. And it's oh so appealing.

It's been so long since I last had sex with anything other than my own hand or a fancy plastic toy. And it doesn't seem like Ghost is in the mood to be particularly gentle. For a split second, I start to doubt if this is really what I want.

But then I look at Johnny; his bright blue eyes full of hope and adoration. I know that he won't hurt me. Neither of them will. And I've never been surer of anything in my entire life.

I nod and - with a shaking voice - I say, "Yes, you can."

"Perfect." Ghost's voice is gruff and smug as he presses in closer to me, crowding in until we're standing chest-to-chest and I'm craning my neck up to look at his face. "Johnny?"

"Hmm?" there's a vacant hum from him as he steps up behind Ghost, bracketing him between our bodies. He drops his head to press a kiss to Ghost's black-clad shoulder.

Ghost turns his head, capturing Johnny's lips in a chaste kiss through the mask. "Go sit down. I think I need to make Tali understand a few things before we get started."

Johnny's eyes widen for a second, a look of surprise flashing there for a second before his eyelids lower. Lust glitters in his blue irises as he looks down at me, leaning across Ghost to drop a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be in our room when you two are ready. Don't make me wait too long though, aye?"

The apartment is completely silent as Johnny pads out of the room. I can hear the muted thud of their bedroom door closing, and then it's just us. Just me and Ghost standing out in the living room, the dark promise of making me understand hovering in the air between us.

If I wasn't wet before, I definitely am now.

"So," Ghost starts, drawing my full attention back to his towering frame, "apparently we haven't been clear enough, princess. Apparently, you think we're just playing with you, or we haven't been open enough about what our relationship is... but that ends now. Got any questions?"

I bite my bottom lip and his eyes trace the movement with a predatory keenness. "Are you and Johnny bisexual?"

"Bingo. Anything else?"

"You... you want to fuck me?"

Ghost barks out a gruff laugh, pressing himself against me. Oh. I can feel the steel-hard length of him against my stomach. It eliminates any lingering traces of doubt I might have held, filling me with a calm, confident certainty.

My eyes are half-lidded, my lips parting as my breathing starts to get heavier. He presses himself against me for a couple more seconds before easing back, eyes pitch black and his own breathing fast and rugged. He's made his point, and he knows it.

"Does that answer that one?"

I nod, pressing my thighs together even harder.

"Ghost..."

His eyes flutter to a close, and he shakes his head, tipping it back. "That's not my name, Tali. Don't call me that anymore." His eyes open once again, and he fixes me with a look. The fondness and warmth there almost floors me. "Call me Simon. Please."

My breath catches in my throat.

"And take off my mask. Please."

My hands rise up to his jawline, slowly but surely in case he changes his mind. My fingers find the edges and I pause, waiting for his go-ahead. With a gentle nod, I dip my fingertips under the thick cotton and slowly pull it away from his face.

I don't look immediately, feeling the weight of the mask in my hand. It hangs limp in my fist, still warm from his skin.

And when I do look... God.

He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. My eyes find his; the only familiar feature in this new landscape. But then I start to branch out. His eyes are surrounded by a hasty smear of black paint, fading out around his thick, straight eyebrows, and crossing the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. It looks like it's been broken a couple times, but it's charming and adds to the rugged appeal of his face. His jawline is sharp and prominent, covered in a light dusting of dirty blond stubble that matches his hair; the slightly curly locks dipping down onto his forehead.

And then there's his mouth. Plush, full lips that would look almost feminine if not for the thick, harsh scars curving up from both corners, each about an inch long. They stand out; pearlescent against the rest of his skin. There's another scar trailing from his left cheekbone to just above his eyebrow too, and my eyes snag on it before dropping down to a smaller one bisecting his bottom lip.

He is perfect. To me, he is flawless.

I raise a hand to his face, placing a single finger on the tip of his nose and dragging it down to the centre of his bottom lip. I don't dare touch the scars; fearful that I might trigger a horrible memory for him. Instead, I cup his cheek in my hand, running a thumb along the curve of his cheekbone.

"Simon," I say his name, testing it in my mouth. It's going to take some getting used to. I exhale a long, slow breath, trying to tamp down my horniness and appreciate how significant this moment is. For me. For him. For us. "It's nice to finally meet you, Simon."

"It's an honour to meet you too, Tali. It's been too long."

He covers the hand resting on his face with his, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to my palm.

The warmth and urgency comes rushing back to me with that one, simple gesture. Sucking in a short breath, I lock my eyes onto his and drop the mask onto the floor. His eyes flicker with interest.

"Now," I say softly, "should we go and find Johnny? I think we've let him wait long enough."

I can't get down the hallway quick enough, Simon hot on my heels as I giggle, amused as he gives chase.

I throw the bedroom door open with a thud, barely crossing the threshold before Simon gathers me up into his arms. My feet leave the ground as he growls playfully against the shell of my ear.

"Nice to see that you two talked," Johnny offers from the bed, his tone drenched in amusement.

I look up to see that he's reclined on the bed, stripped down to a pair of grey joggers. The thick gauze bandage that covers his injured ribs stands out against his tanned skin, and there's a cocky smile playing on his lips as he watches the two of us. He makes no effort to move from his position.

"We did," I confirm, still trapped in the cage of Simon's muscle-corded arms. "You have a very pretty boyfriend."

"Pretty," Simon grumbles next to my ear. I turn my head to see that his eyebrows are raised, and I soak every inch of his expression in. Seeing him without the mask is going to take some getting used to, but I love it. "Fucking pretty, love?"

I nod shamelessly.

A beat passes before I lower my tone, batting my eyelashes at Johnny as I say, "So are you guys going to fuck me or what?"

"Yeah?" Simon growls.

Johnny licks his lips. His palms run down the lengths of his thick thighs, drawing attention to the impressive tent in his pants. My eyes are locked on his as I exhale a breathy, "Yeah."

With that, I'm on my back on the bed. Johnny sidles up behind me as Simon approaches the mattress with slow, methodical strides. He pauses at the edge, stripping himself of his black tactical gear and trousers. He stands there in black boxers and a t-shirt, the thick length I felt pressed against me in the living room standing proud, straining against the material.

The room is dim, illuminated only by the warm glow from my bedside lamp, adding to the relaxed atmosphere as Johnny trails a hand along the side of my body, trailing over my breast. He stops when he finds a nipple, peaked and stiff, in the absence of a bra. I hear the sharp intake of breath he makes, followed by, "You'll never guess, Si. She's not even wearing a bra. Teasing us like a naughty lass."

Simon's hands find his waistband, yanking his boxers down. His erection is on full display, standing to attention. It's thick and long, curved slightly upwards; the tip flushed and pink. It makes my throat dry, all the moisture heading south.

"Can I come over to the bed?" he asks, voice soft and respectful. It makes me even hotter.

I nod my consent, but he still doesn't move. "Yes."

That does the trick. Slowly, he makes his way to the edge of the mattress and kneels on the bed. "Come here," he commands, pupils dilated. "Take off your shorts and come here."

I shimmy out of my shorts and flimsy lace underwear but stay at the head of the bed, relishing in the feeling of Johnny's hands roaming all over me. "You come here," I command, feeling more than a little bold.

Simon growls. "Demanding little princess. Putting me through my paces, yeah? Showing me who's boss?"

I nod as Simon crawls up the bed, leaning over me to kiss Johnny. I tip my head back to watch, soaking at the sight waiting for me. Their mouths are locked, tongues flickering into each other's mouths as Simon grabs Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him even closer. After several seconds, they release one another and Johnny goes back to running his hands over me. This time, there's the addition of his mouth sucking marks against the skin of my throat - nipping with his teeth then running his tongue over them.

Simon eases back down my body, turning his attention to my legs; my knees drawn up towards my chest.

"I wonder," he grumbles, tone dripping with desire, "if you'll sound even louder with us than when you're alone."

And, with that, he parts my thighs with firm hands and bows his head.

I want him. Gods, I want him.

He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to each thigh, taking his time in a thinly-veiled effort to drive me insane. His breath is unbearably warm against me, my own exhales leaving my mouth in small, shallow pants.

"Fuck," I groan. In a moment of desperation, I reach a hand down and tangle it in the golden strands of Simon's hair, pulling him into me. His dark, answering laugh vibrates against my already-sensitive pussy and I let out a tortured whine. "Please."

And he obliges. Pinning my hips to the bed with one strong forearm, he's a frenzy of teeth and lips and tongue. He's like a man starved, giving me exactly what I want.

My skin heats and I claw at the neck of my shirt while Simon works away, not slowing down for even a second as I barrel towards an orgasm at break-neck speed. Chuckling indulgently, Johnny helps me out of the fabric's confines, leaving me completely bare and still all too warm as I writhe against them.

I come in a blinding haze of ecstasy, shouting my pleasure with a loud moan.

When I come back to my senses, Johnny is stroking my hair, brushing it away from my face. Simon is kneeling over me, his mouth and chin glossy with moisture and eyes wild.

"That was so fucking hot, Tali."

"Think you can go again?" Johnny's voice rings out from behind me and I realise that I'm slumped back against him, his other hand still resting lightly on my breast.

My throat tightens and the tingle between my legs makes itself known once again. I can so go again, but first... there's something else I want.

"Can... could I watch you guys?"

Simon's jaw slackens. His eyes meet Johnny's - who offers him a shrug - before they both turn to me, looking amused.

"What do ye want to see, lassie?"

"I want to see you suck Simon's dick."

Johnny smirks, pressing a bold kiss to my lips before rising up from his spot. I lean back against the headboard, watching on as Simon settles into a seated position at the edge of the bed. Johnny kneels down between his legs, and a look of adoration passes between them as I angle myself to get a better view.

Johnny places a loving hand on Simon's bare thigh, squeezing once lightly. "Are ye ready, darlin'?"

Simon barely has time to nod before Johnny's head is dipping down, taking the base of Simon's erection in one hand to steady himself. His mouth follows; his lips wrapping around Simon's length and taking inch by inch into his throat with ease.

Simon's head tips back, a deep groan spilling from his throat as Johnny works him reverently. His tanned fist moves in time with his mouth; occupying what Johnny can't fit. I lean back into the pillows, my hand falling between my own legs as I play with myself in lazy, unfocused motions, enthralled in them.

"Fuck, Johnny. Just like that." Simon's groan echoes around the room. His hand drops to Johnny's hair, not to push his head, but to tangle in the longer locks of his hair. It's loving and tender; beautiful and intimate.

I can't tear my eyes away from them - not even for a second - until Simon throws his head back and lets out an Earth-shaking moan. Johnny's head stops bobbing and he resurfaces, swallowing and running the back of his hand across his mouth. When he's done, there's a cat-like grin on his lips and a hazy look in his eyes.

Simon crawls back into the middle of the bed, laying down next to me. His chest heaves, spent from his fun. "Want to stop?" he asks gently, his skin dotted with sweat and carrying the beautiful, heady scent of salt and wood-smoke.

A smile finds my lips and I find myself shaking my head, locking eyes with Johnny as he rises back to his feet. "I never said I was done."

"Jesus, you're fucking insatiable," Simon groans, his tone only half-teasing. His head meets the pillow with a heavy thud.

Johnny, on the other hand, only smiles; a hungry glint in his eye. "I'm not complaining."

a/n: hey guys! happy monday :) hope you enjoy part 6 and the shameless smut. I figured the slow burn has ran for long enough, and we deserve some of the good stuff! what would you be interested in seeing in the next part? - much love, lapetitelapin

[mooniedust]

Modern Aemond X Transreader Prompt

Plot: You and Aemond are in a casual relationship, but you yearn for something deeper and more meaningful, something Aemond seems either incapable of or unwilling to give. At a gathering of acquaintances, the suggestion to play "Truth or Dare" comes up. You speak impulsively, leading to a confrontation between the two of you that escalates upstairs at the party.

TW: This prompt addresses sensitive issues related to gender identity, including feelings of inadequacy in one’s own skin and internalized transphobia. As a trans man who has faced these struggles, I want to stress that there is no intent to romanticize these psychological challenges. If you’re experiencing something similar, please seek support/help. And remember, you are not alone, you are valid, and you are loved.

Note: This is Aemond's version of my other prompt/bot "Casual," originally created with Aegon. Many changes have been made to fit each character’s personality.

With all my heart,

Moon dust.

---

"I just don't get it. We do all these things together, so why does the word 'dating' seem so terrifyingly repulsive?" Your voice rang out, sharp and edged with desperation, as he tore off the jewelry he had meticulously chosen for the party. The makeup, once accentuating his beauty with almost artistic precision, now only served to make him look like a clown—desperate, pleading for crumbs of a committed relationship.

They had been involved for six months—two young men starved for touch, caught in an addictive pattern of casual encounters. Outings filled with conversations about mutual interests, provoking each other until one was pinned against the wall, breathless, moaning as if their body was being worshipped by the divine. You were at peace with this. Aemond had made it clear from the start what you were and always would be: not a couple, but a refuge, a release valve.

until you weren't anymore.

Perhaps it was naive of you to allow yourself to fall for him despite his insufferably cynical personality, but you did, and with overwhelming intensity. Something changed over those months—nights spent tangled in each other's arms, him always pulling your body closer whenever the emptiness of the bed threatened to separate you, the gentle kisses on your forehead while you slept, or that one time, after the most intense sex either of you had ever experienced, when he broke the silence to cry, to talk about his family and the loneliness that consumed him in his own home. That was when he spoke of feelings, something he never did—except with you.

It was a low blow.

Congratulations, you fell for the broken boy.

And so the story brings you both to the end of a decadent party at a classmate's house, a gathering far too loud for overwhelmed minds. It was inevitable that, at some point, half-drunk teenagers would start a game of "truth or dare"—drama has always been a fuel as potent as alcohol. Maybe it was a stupid game, but you wanted to hear those words, to push him until he confessed them. You wanted to hear so many unspoken truths. But you ruined everything. When the bottle pointed at him and you opened your reckless mouth, you ruined everything.

"Is it true what you said that night? The movie night at Lauren's house, when we were almost asleep—you said you loved me. Is that true?" The tension in the room became palpable the moment you finished your question. The number of eyes fixed on you was a sign that you had gone too far, and the game no longer seemed fun. Damn it. Fuck. Shit.

No one had to wait long for an answer before Aemond grabbed your hand to the muffled sound of Avril Lavigne's "Complicated." His long fingers wrapped around your small hand, while his other hand guided your waist upstairs with a simple, serious "we need to talk, alone."

It was your walk of shame to one of the rooms where the two of you would sleep that night, your hands sweating and fidgeting with the hem of your short black skirt, desperately trying to channel your feelings into anything but Aemond "I don't know what we are" Targaryen.

"It makes no sense to keep saying we're nothing. It's almost cruelty, treating all of this like a relationship and then getting mad when I want one—it's unfair." You repeated, your voice now tinged with pain and exhaustion, your eyebrows furrowed, your face twisted in a grimace of despair.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for what?

"Because we're not in a relationship. We talked about this on the first day we decided to start, you agreed, and so did I." Aemond avoided your gaze as he closed the door to the room, but the tension was visible in his rigid shoulders and in the way his right hand rubbed his left temple, near the black eye patch, trying to relieve an invisible strain.

"I've changed, Aemond. I'm everything you need. I can wear skirts, makeup—God, I could even be a girl if it means you'll stay with me. I can forget about this whole trans thing, maybe it's just in my head, yeah? Silly me. Just stay with me, please, You love me, we both know that. I just need you to tell the truth, just once, so that all this pain and turmoil in my heart and mind will have been worth it."

But they aren't worth it.

"Look, I'll say this because you're right about one thing: I love you, {{user}}." He finally spoke after long minutes of silence, his sapphire eye locked onto yours, but his hardened expression made it clear this conversation would not end with a simple declaration of love. "But I could never love you in the way you want. I don't want a relationship right now with you. It doesn't matter if you feel like a woman or a man—that's not the point. Just not now."

"But you could, maybe in the future. I could wait." Your voice was almost pitiful, a desperate plea. Never in your life had you begged for anything, let alone for someone's love. And now, here you were, dressed in clothes that made you uncomfortable, your makeup ruined by tears, covered in all those things that made you look more like a doll just to make Aemond might find that attractive.

Look like a girl.

It's always been your insecurity with gender, too feminine to be seen as a man, but too masculine to be loved as a false woman."

Silly boy.

Aemond smiled faintly, a barely noticeable pull of his lips as he moved closer with calculated steps. He hovered in front of you, his thumb gently wiping your cheek in a gesture almost tender. God, you were pathetic, even to him.

"I never could, either, and that would make the wait even more painful. Do you understand? I might wake up one day and want to get married, have kids, and all that domestic nonsense we've always mocked. How can I guarantee I'll feel the same way in four years? I don't want you to wait. I don't want you to change. No one who truly loves you should ask that of you. This is probably where I have to end the mess we've made." He bent down slightly, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before whispering that he was sorry.

Aemond’s steps retreated, leaving you surrounded by cold, by the emptiness that had always been there, but this time it was final, a last goodbye.

"Someone will love you. Someone will love the man you are. But that someone won't be me. I'm sorry."

Four weeks.

And Aemond was now officially and openly dating a girl.

[saikoucorps]

✰ “MATCHUP FOR @qpr-cupid ”

→ if you would like to request a matchup, read this. If you want to commission, consider reading this.

→ matchup requests are closed. commissions are open.

✮ flipping through the deck of cards.. your card is.. ✮

→ “SHOTA AIZAWA”

✮ REASONING : Based on your personality, interests, and needs, I believe Shota Aizawa would be an excellent platonic match for you. Your introverted leaning ambivert nature, combined with your preference for deep, meaningful connections, aligns well with Aizawa's calm, introspective demeanor. He would deeply appreciate your emotional openness and the patience you show in your relationships, as these qualities resonate with his own approach to trust and loyalty. Your shared disdain for willful ignorance and appreciation for learning would create a strong bond between you two.

:ఌ¨ ♱ favorite thing about you: Aizawa’s favorite thing about you would be your unwavering loyalty and the way you fiercely protect those you care about. He values authenticity and would find comfort in knowing that you’re someone who truly understands the importance of trust and doesn’t give it lightly.

☆ HOW YOU MET:

It was one of those quiet afternoons, the kind where the world seemed to slow down just for a moment. You had decided to visit the local library, a place where you often found solace in the company of books and the gentle hum of silence. The weather outside was perfect for it—overcast, with the promise of a light rain that never quite arrived. 

You wandered through the aisles, the scent of old pages filling your senses, until you found a comfortable corner near a large window. The book you had chosen was on creative writing, a subject that always ignited your imagination. You lost yourself in its pages, letting the words inspire the stories swirling in your mind.

After some time, you became aware of a quiet presence across from you. You looked up to see a man with unruly black hair, half-hidden by a dark scarf, sitting at the table opposite you. He was engrossed in a book on hero training, his eyes scanning the pages with a focused intensity that intrigued you. He seemed so at ease in the quiet, and there was something about his calm demeanor that put you at ease as well.

You didn’t speak at first, content to enjoy the shared silence. But eventually, curiosity got the better of you. “That’s a good book,” you remarked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace.

He looked up, surprised by the interruption, but nodded slightly. “It is,” he replied in a deep, gravelly voice. “It’s practical. I like that.”

You smiled, appreciating his straightforwardness. “I’m always looking for ways to improve my writing. This one’s been pretty helpful.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I find creative problem-solving useful in my line of work. It’s interesting how strategies can overlap.”

That sparked a conversation, and before you knew it, you were exchanging thoughts on creativity, problem-solving, and the importance of introspection. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a mutual respect for the other’s space and the realization that you both valued deep connections over surface-level interactions.

You found yourselves gravitating toward each other whenever you visited the library, sharing quiet moments and the occasional deep conversation. A bond began to form, one built on mutual respect and a shared love for the peace that could only be found in silence.

✰ "CONFESSION":

It had been a particularly rough week for you. The world felt overwhelming, your thoughts tangled in a mess of anxiety and doubt. You found yourself retreating to the park, your usual sanctuary, hoping that the fresh air and the soothing sound of the rain would help clear your mind.

The park was nearly empty, the light drizzle keeping most people indoors. You sat on a bench, watching the raindrops ripple across the surface of a small pond. But instead of feeling calm, you felt a heavy weight on your chest, like you were drowning in your own emotions.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Aizawa approaching until he was standing right in front of you. He held an umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain. 

“You shouldn’t sit out here in the rain,” he said quietly, though his tone was more concerned than scolding.

You looked up at him, surprised but not entirely shocked. Aizawa had a way of knowing when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t said a word. “I just needed some time to think,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down beside you, holding the umbrella over both of you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound being the rain softly hitting the ground. It was a comfortable silence, one that felt like an embrace in and of itself.

After a while, Aizawa broke the silence. “You don’t have to go through things alone. I’m here, if you need someone to listen.”

You turned to him, your heart swelling with emotion. He wasn’t one for grand declarations or overly emotional gestures, but in that moment, his words felt like a confession. He was telling you, in his own quiet way, that you mattered to him—that your presence in his life was important.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice thick with gratitude. “I’m really glad I met you.”

He gave you a rare, soft smile, one that spoke volumes more than any words could. “Me too.”

☆ FIRST "DATE":

The idea of a traditional first date never quite appealed to either of you. Instead, you both preferred something more low-key, something that didn’t feel forced or overly formal. So when Aizawa suggested a quiet evening at his place, baking cookies and watching movies, you couldn’t think of anything better.

You arrived at his apartment in the early evening, greeted by the cozy warmth of his home. The place was simple, much like the man himself, but there was an understated comfort to it. He had already set out the ingredients for the cookies on the kitchen counter, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Hope you’re ready to bake,” Aizawa said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he rolled up his sleeves.

You grinned, stepping up beside him. “I’m always ready.”

As you worked together in the kitchen, mixing dough and sneaking tastes of chocolate chips, you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. Aizawa was surprisingly good at baking, though his methodical approach sometimes made things take a bit longer. But you didn’t mind—the longer it took, the more time you got to spend together.

When the cookies were finally in the oven, the two of you settled on the couch, a stack of old animated movies ready to go. You watched as Aizawa selected one of his favorites, and soon the room was filled with the familiar sound of cartoon voices and nostalgic music.

As the night went on, you found yourselves leaning into each other, the comfort of the moment making you both a little more open, a little more vulnerable. Aizawa wasn’t usually one for physical affection, but that evening, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling completely at ease.

When the cookies were ready, you shared them on the couch, the warm, gooey treats adding to the coziness of the night. By the time the movie credits rolled, you were both content, wrapped in a comfortable silence that needed no words.

“This was nice,” Aizawa murmured as he turned off the TV, the glow of the screen fading to black.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “It really was.”

Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew—this was the first of many evenings like this. The start of something special.

✮ GENERAL HEADCANONS:

☆ Aizawa is the type to quietly slip a plushie onto your bed after a rough day, knowing how much you love them.

☆ He’s surprisingly good at karaoke, though he’ll only sing for you when no one else is around.

☆ You often find yourself teaching him small crafts, and he genuinely enjoys the distraction.

☆ He’d take you on nighttime walks when the world is quiet, finding solace in your presence.

☆ Aizawa appreciates your love for deep-pressure cuddles and always ensures you feel secure when you need it most.

☆ He secretly loves it when you bake; your cookies have become his comfort food.

☆ You two share a love for animated shows and often binge-watch series together on lazy weekends.

☆ Aizawa admires your creativity and often encourages you to share your writing with him.

☆ He’s protective of you, especially in loud environments, and will always find a way to bring you peace.

☆ He loves the scent of rain on you and often finds himself thinking of you whenever a storm rolls in.

☆ You both enjoy quiet, rainy days, often sitting together in silence, just enjoying the weather.

☆ Aizawa would be the first to step up if someone teased you about your past, shutting it down immediately.

☆ He appreciates your patience and often finds himself opening up to you more than he ever thought he would.

☆ You’re one of the few people he feels comfortable showing his vulnerable side to.

☆ Aizawa enjoys your company during mundane tasks, finding a strange comfort in your presence.

☆ He admires your collection of enamel pins and often surprises you with new additions.

☆ He’s the rock you need during tough times, always there to ground you.

☆ Aizawa is surprisingly affectionate in private, often initiating cuddles when you’re alone.

☆ He’s patient with your quirks, understanding you on a level most people don’t.

☆ You both share a disdain for loud, obnoxious people and often find yourselves rolling your eyes together in such situations.

☆ Aizawa is always calm, even when you’re at your most emotional, providing the stability you need.

☆ He respects your boundaries and never pushes you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

☆ You both love to travel, often finding peace in exploring new places together.

☆ He appreciates your gift-giving nature and always cherishes the thought you put into each present.

☆ Aizawa enjoys the calm moments the most, just being with you, no words needed.

✮ SUGGESTIVE HEADCANONS:

☆ Aizawa loves subtle teasing, like brushing his fingers against your neck when no one’s watching or whispering something just a bit suggestive in your ear, making your heart skip a beat.

☆ He has a habit of keeping a hand on your lower back in public, both as a protective gesture and to keep you close. It’s a touch that’s as possessive as it is reassuring.

☆ After a long day, Aizawa enjoys pulling you into bed, the weight of his arm draped over you as he quietly breathes in your scent, finding peace in your presence.

☆ He doesn’t say much, but you can tell Aizawa has a preference for lace. The rare times you catch him glancing longer than usual, you know he appreciates the effort.

☆ His voice drops an octave when he’s alone with you, soft and gravelly as he murmurs against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

☆ Aizawa is a bit of a cuddler in the mornings, reluctant to let you go as he presses closer, his grip around your waist tightening in a way that speaks volumes without words.

☆ There’s something about his hands that makes you melt, whether he’s gently pinning your wrists above your head in a playful gesture or holding them while whispering that you’re his.

☆ You’ve caught him staring at you from across the room, his gaze heavy and filled with something unspoken. When your eyes meet, he offers a slight smirk, leaving you flustered.

☆ He’s not against sharing a shower, especially after a particularly rough day. The intimate space allows for quiet moments where his touch is soothing.

☆ Aizawa enjoys stealing you away during moments of chaos, finding a quiet corner where he can kiss you slowly, savoring the taste and feel of you as if it’s the only thing that matters.

☆ “Even when the world feels too loud, you’re the quiet I need.”

♤♡ DYNAMICS ◇♤

EQUALITY — (do they split the checks?)

Aizawa believes in fairness, so splitting the check feels natural. However, he’ll occasionally cover the bill, especially when he knows you’ve had a tough day, showing his care in a quiet way.

ARGUMENTS — (how are arguments with them like?)

Arguments with Aizawa are rare but intense. He prefers calm, rational discussions but can be blunt if pushed. Fortunately, he’s quick to apologize and seeks resolution.

HONESTY — (do they keep secrets from you?)

Aizawa values honesty and won’t keep secrets unless absolutely necessary. He expects the same from you, creating a strong foundation of trust in your relationship.

WILD CARD — (anything random)

Aizawa has a soft spot for cats, something he rarely shows. His love for strays adds warmth to his stoic personality, making these moments especially endearing.

SUPPORT — (how supportive are they?)

Aizawa is incredibly supportive, offering quiet, steady presence when you need it most. Whether through actions or encouragement, he ensures you feel secure in the relationship.

NICKNAMES — (do they give you nicknames?)

He’s not big on nicknames but might use a shortened version of your name. When he does use a rare, endearing nickname, it’s reserved for private moments, making it all the more special.

COMFORT — (how do they comfort you, if at all?)

Aizawa comforts you with reassuring words. He knows when to give you space but is always there when you need a listening ear or a comforting hug.

COMPATABILITY — (how compatible are you guys?)

As a Gemini, your lively energy complements Aizawa’s Scorpio intensity. While Geminis thrive on communication and variety, Scorpios are deeply loyal and value meaningful connections, creating a balanced dynamic. With your INFJ personality, you’ll find a deep understanding with Aizawa’s introspective nature, making your bond strong and enduring.

UNDERSTANDING — (how understanding are they when it comes to things)

Aizawa is highly understanding, always patient and attentive to your needs. He ensures you feel seen and heard, offering empathy and support whenever you need it.

♤♡ DRABBLE◇♧

The storm had come out of nowhere, the sky darkening in a matter of minutes. You had been restless all day, unable to focus on anything, the energy inside you building up like a ticking time bomb. When the first crack of thunder echoed through the air, it felt like the final straw.

You tried to distract yourself, curling up on the couch with a book, but the words blurred on the page. The sound of the rain pounding against the windows only heightened your anxiety, each flash of lightning sending a jolt through your system.

You didn’t realize you were trembling until there was a knock on your door. Startled, you jumped up, your heart racing. For a moment, you considered not answering, but the knock came again, more insistent this time.

With a deep breath, you opened the door, only to find Aizawa standing there, drenched from head to toe. His hair clung to his face, and his usually calm expression was tinged with concern.

“I noticed the storm,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

You blinked, surprised that he had come all the way here in the middle of such terrible weather. “Aizawa… You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, stepping inside before you could protest further. “I thought you might need someone to be with.”

His words were like a balm to your frayed nerves, and you felt the tension in your body begin to ease. You closed the door behind him, watching as he shook off the rain like a wet dog. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Without another word, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a firmness that grounded you. The thunder outside seemed distant now, muffled by the warmth of his embrace. You let out a shaky breath, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear.

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, holding each other. Aizawa’s presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady in the storm both outside and within. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to—his actions spoke louder than words ever could.

When you finally pulled back, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested, guiding you back to the couch.

You curled up beside him, the storm still raging outside, but it no longer felt threatening. Aizawa sat close, his arm resting around your shoulders, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave until you felt safe again.

And in that moment, with the storm raging on, you realized something important—you didn’t have to face your fears alone. Aizawa would be there, just as you would be there for him, weathering the storms together.

→ tropes:

Comfort in Silence Unspoken Understanding Devoted To You

→ second choice:

Hizashi Yamada was a close second. His energetic nature and deep care for his friends would complement your affectionate personality, but Aizawa’s calming presence won out in the end.

SONG RELATED TO RELATIONSHIP :

☆ I apologize that this took a while! Things came up and I'm so so sorry </3. Moonboard will be added soon!

[whentherewerebicycles]

went to the woods at sunset last night with my mom and did a hard sad little ritual of closure that hurt me a lot but also felt like painfully needed closure. we both cried so much I feel dehydrated still but it was good and I’m so glad I asked my mom to come instead of doing it alone like I originally thought I wanted to. I was afraid I’d feel embarrassed and stupid with someone else watching but I just felt so deeply loved and held. then I came home and wrote about it for a long time and read this book on pregnancy loss until late. the book is making me cry too but in a good meaningful way. I feel like the most important thing it’s given me is a clearer understanding of how almost every part of the loss was made more acutely distressing and difficult to grieve by the way doctors and techs talked to me and about me with each other in my presence. my surgical team was good and took the time to say they were sorry this was happening to me but leading up to that there was just so much casual thoughtless cruelty that I’m sure no one intended to be cruel but made me feel so, so bad and empty and alone, like I wasn’t even a person. like I will never for as long as I live forget the feeling of being hunched over in the table in the dark undressed from the waist down with tears streaming down my face under my mask right after the radiologist confirmed the diagnosis, and then the tech turning to put something away and telling me in the brightest, most excited voice that in ten years of doing ultrasounds she’d “never seen a live one before!”, which was how I learned that the baby had a heartbeat. but then I will also never in my entire life forget the other ultrasound tech, who was the one person in that entire awful prolonged experience who called it the little baby instead of the adnexal mass or the ectopic and who asked me if I wanted to see it and then sat with me in silence for a long, long time so I could look at the screen for as long as I needed to. I really deeply get that this is politically complicated territory where as a medical professional you don’t want to assume that the pregnancy was planned/wanted or that someone is experiencing the loss as a loss or that the person feels like the baby was a baby, but as my sister pointed out, everyone involved knew that I had gotten pregnant after multiple cycles of IUI and no one does that unless it’s a badly wanted pregnancy. idk the book has all these quotes from other women where they describe things I also heard doctors saying to/about me and they share how small or alone it made them feel and it’s just making me feel this weirdly intense sense of relief like oh ok I get it. this was always going to be hard and fraught and sad but if people had been just a little more sensitive or careful with their words or attuned to me as a suffering human being it could have been clean grief from the start instead of grief all twisted up in shame and embarrassment and feeling like I wasn’t even supposed to feel sad.

there isn’t a silver lining to all of this, it’s just a hard sad thing that happened to me and that I am finding a way to live with. but during that second awful ultrasound, the one that made me feel so empty and lonely, I remember lying on the table staring up at the ceiling just thinking and praying that if this thing had to happen to me that it would lead me towards deeper compassion, that it would in time make me a gentler, more caring, more open person instead of someone all locked up inside with shame and grief. and I think that in time it will. I feel like at the very least I can be a better friend to the people I love if something like this happens to them. the book talks about how for many people it can be healing to reflect on the positive ways even a brief pregnancy changed you and to think of that as a gift or a legacy that the pregnancy left you with—not like the changes are a consolation prize but just like, it can be very healing to infuse your loss with a deeper sense of purpose and meaning so it feels like it was real and it mattered and it changed you. it was real and it mattered and it changed me. and that is something I will carry with me.

anyway those are just some things I am thinking about this morning. long road long road but I am walking it.

[bubblepopsims]

The silence was becoming quite frankly unbearable. So Rafael took it upon himself like he usually does when a new coworker joins in on their once a week night of drinks at the lounge. You start drinking.

R: Anybody care for a drink?" Emillie raised a brow as Rafael stood up. Examining him from his hair down to what she could see. “I can physically see why Maddi is smitten.. but what is the emotional level between these two?” "i would appreciate one.." Rafael turned to Maddi and without even thinking took her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up to meet her eyes. R: "and you ?"

Maddi's face instantly became flushed, leaning into the subtle touch without a second thought. Emillie knew Maddi well, knew when she was grumpy, sick, annoyed, happy, feral. But this was different.. Maddi wasn’t just looking at him like she looks at strawberry shortcake (which is her favorite) but more like someone she saw something with.. something meaningful.

Maddi leaned more into Rafael’s touch and gave him a small smile. M: "yes please..." R: "i'll be right back." he said loud enough for only her to hear and gently ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Emillie sat back just observing and quite frankly the sight of the two of them put her in deep thought. "Maddi has never acted so soft before.. so gentle.. girly? no... just.. in aw? no... i think Maddi is for once actually.. in love..." Rafael left not moments after His and Maddi's subtle yet intense encounter and drifted off to the Self served bar Leaving a blushing Maddi with Emillie.

the second Rafael was out of sight Maddi turned to Emillie with a wide smile "annndddd??" Emillie huffed and grinned widely at her "you really like him... i mean I'm sorry but who are you right now? its like i am looking at a different person.” Emillie quickly waved her hands at a bunched up brow Maddi. “ its not a bad thing!" Maddi scrunhed her face up more but quickly relaxed knowing that Emillie was right..

M: “you’re right..” Emillies eyes widened and sat up immediately

E: “what did you say?”

Maddi sighed “You’re right.”

E: “Holy shit so i did. hear that correctly.. holy shit.”

Maddi groaned and narrowed her eyes at emillie who in her defense held her hands up

M: “don’t over do it! Emillie laughed and nodded her head slowly. "i know.. i Know im sorry.. it’s just quite frankly shocking. This whole thing. It’s almost as if you are in lo- oh? Seems to me like Rafael has been caught by Juju."

Juju was telling Rafael how handsome he was and so gentleman like..

J: “you and my fiancé would be friends.”

Izzi looked across the table at the same time Rafael did. The both stared at each other a good while as if they were having their own silent conversation, before Izzi smirked and nodded.

I: “i like him. He passed.”

Rafael huffed lightly and took a sip of his drink. “I am glad I passed.”

Juju giggled and waved her arms around happily “are you coming to our wedding??” Izzi looked at juju and laughed

I: “i do apologize for my future stunning absolutely gorgeous wife, she quite frankly hasn’t stopped talking about it and has asked random strangers to come.”

Juju frowned “hey don’t make him feel less special! After all he is maddis boyfriend.”

Rafael almost choked on his drink and quickly swallowed it ready to say something but juju cut him off with a smirk “truth.”

This took Rafael by surprise “how did she?” He looked over at Izzi who just casually shimmed a bit in their seat to the music.

R: “I am not.. but I wouldn’t mind it.” He answered truthfully. “Quite frankly she has been on my mind more than usual lately.”

J: “How did you guys meet.”

R: “we were pen pal friends.”

Juju gasped and wiggled happily in her seat “wait that is so cuteeeee!! Oh you are so cute and she is so cute! And you guys are cute together!”

Rafael lightly bowed his head “thank you.. I know she will appreciate that a lot.”

J: “i think we found the one my love.”

Izzi laughed and nodded slowly “the night is still young.”

J: “i don’t Care I am rooting for them.” Previous - next

[yanderes-galore]

Prompts Found Here

Yeah, I can do this! Sorry for the long wait, was unsure of plot.

Decided to try a yandere who knows if they force anything, you'll hate them. So they're trying to warn you somewhat.

Yandere Sanford Prompts 1 + 9

"I don't care how many times it takes to get through to you, I'll make you realize how much I love you."

"You'll learn to love me."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Attempted forced relationship, Murder mention, Intimidation, Sanford is trying to be patient, Most of the yandere behavior is kinda hidden in this. You can only see slight slips of it on purpose.

Love is not that common in modern day Nevada. Once everything turned to madness, all the people ever knew were two things; violence and survival.

Even Sanford vaguely recalled the love he experienced in his life. The sweet and nurturing love he recieved from his mother. After that, it was stored in the back of his mind.

Sanford had felt companionship from Deimos and felt safe that Hank was on his side. He never felt that same kind of love with them, though. No... he cared for them but didn't love them.

It wasn't until the group rescued an injured grunt that he felt it. Love thrummed softly through him when he met you. After that, he felt he had to take care of you.

Sanford knew 2B would heal your wounds, but he felt he had to help too. He calmed you on the way to 2B and even offered to bandage your wounds. To you, he came off as kind and caring.

After that you worked with the group as thanks. Sanford became the closest with you. His feelings only ever grew more intense... but you were unaware of his more violent jealousy behind closed doors.

Sanford begged to differ.

Your feelings towards him were never all that intense. Like with Deimos and Hank, you cared for him. You felt there was no time for love in a world like this, however.

Sanford felt there could be something really meaningful between you. He wanted there to be. Deep down that rough and tough exterior, Sanford wanted stability...

He wanted to experience love again...

You were his key to it.

"You'll learn to love me."

He never wanted to be forceful with you. It's just, when you've had to deal with violence all day, it's hard to experience that gentle love. Especially if your chosen partner keeps refusing.

You keep saying you can't love him. He's a companion but you can't love him romantically. He believes you can...

You just don't want to.

"Sanford, please just listen to me-"

"It'll be the best for both of us! We need each other. In a world like this..."

"Our love can't work."

Your words bring him to silence. He looks at you through his glasses. You're standing with him in an empty room, the door locked for privacy. He then sighs in slight frustration.

What do you know about the love between you if you keep refusing it?

"... My feelings won't change."

"You can't force mine either, Sanford."

"I don't want to force things..."

He takes a deep breath. He was always the emotional one of the group. You only ever made him more vulnerable.

He then backs you up to the wall. He large stature intimidates you and you comply. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and squeezes softly. His words are understanding, his actions are not.

He takes the chance to land a kiss. Not quite on your lips but beside your cheek. An action to show he adores you, yet is willing to wait.

"But I don't care how many times it takes to get through to you, I'll make you realize how much I love you in the end."

You're right... it can't be forced if he wants you to love him.

He's willing to wait a bit longer but he wants you to understand his love is genuine. He pulls away, a soft smile on his face before walking you to the door.

"I just hope you love me in the end."

Sanford sighs, allowing you to leave. You're on edge, saying a quick goodbye before fleeing. When you're gone Sanford frowns.

He knows someday he'll obtain your love. What upsets him is what he might need to do to get it. If you don't love him... he isn't sure if he can handle it.

How long will it be until he snaps and takes you?

He's already been killing for you... hopefully you accept him soon...

If not for his sake, yours.

[winnifredburkleismyhero]

The Voice of an Angel

The Voice of an Angel – (Chapter 1)

(Modern / Neighbor / Apartment AU)

Summary: After moving into a new place, Reader hears her neighbor (Eddie) singing, through the wall of the apartment. She knows the song, so she sings along. An unexpected duet ensues.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Pronouns used: She/Her)

Warnings: Drinking is mentioned (Eddie / Reader are over 21) & mention of Cursing (no actual swearing)

Song Lyrics: Driving Nails by Demon Hunter

Author’s Note: I had this idea that Eddie is totally the type who sings in the shower. I love the idea of meeting someone for the first time without actually being able to see the person… like it’s mysterious and exciting. This was originally going to be a drabble or a one shot, but Eddie and Reader were just begging for more of a story than that. There will be some serious themes in later chapters, so definitely pay attention to the warnings on each chapter! As always, all mistakes are mine. And the photo edit is mine, made from pictures off of Pinterest.

Feedback is meaningful and appreciated!!! ❤️

(I do not consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. If my work is found anywhere else but here, it has been reposted without my permission. )

Reader’s POV

New city, new apartment, new start? The little nondescript apartment complex on the northeast side of Indianapolis was as far from your home in North Manchester as you could get on your small budget. Looking up at the three story brick building, you sat in your car, willing your mind to let go of the past year. As you get out of the car, a warm fall breeze stirs your hair around your face, and you take a deep, steadying breath.

Hopefully, you pick up the last box from next to your beat up little car, and head up the outside stairs, walking down the corridor past the door of your new neighbor. Coming into your new home, you feel a little overwhelmed. Shutting the front door with a sigh, you gazed around at the stacks of boxes in your new living room, trying to decide which room in the two bedroom apartment to start unpacking first.

Finding a box labeled ‘Bathroom’, you headed down the hallway and turned on the light in the small bathroom. Sitting down on the faded linoleum tile floor with the box in front of the cupboard under the sink, you slice open the box and start pulling your stuff out. As you organize the things under the sink, you notice that over the sounds of creaky pipes and running water you can hear music, like someone singing. Loudly. In the shower maybe. Probably whoever lives in the apartment directly next to yours.

I was the light / I was the quiet heart / I was the place we used to dwell. / And when the cold would tear your life apart, / I was the warmth that you had felt

The voice is male, rich and full, loud yet soulful, and as you listen, you realize that you know the song your new neighbor is singing. Interesting that you’ve moved in next to someone who knows the metal band Demon Hunter. His voice makes you shiver a bit, intense but hypnotizing, making the song seem new and exciting to you. Humming along to yourself as you organize your stuff in the cupboard, you get a little lost in the lyrics.

What have I become? / Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

Impulsively, you decide that you’ll join in singing when he gets to the second verse. Closing your eyes, tilting your head back, and lifting your voice to belt out the next words along with him, you sing:

I was the blood inside your broken heart / I was the stone that you had held

You hear a thud, like something was dropped, a few grumbled curse words, the water shuts off, then silence. Afraid of losing your nerve, you continue the song…

What have I become? /Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside...

His voice joins yours again, tentatively at first, then louder. You smile to yourself as his voice blends with yours.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

It’s a strangely intimate experience, sharing a duet with a mysterious stranger, separated only by a thin apartment wall. You feel a little bit better now, less lonely maybe. Music has always been one of the constants in your life, especially when things got tough. As the song is ending, you wonder what he is like, this metalhead neighbor of yours. You wonder if it’ll be awkward to meet him after singing with him.

I close my eyes / Search for you / Retracing every step

Maybe it’s easier to connect when you can’t see the other person. You don’t exactly have the best luck with men or relationships. Is this weird for him too? You muse to yourself as you finally empty the packing box in your lap.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

Standing up to go back to the living room, you and your neighbor finish the last refrain of the song. His sweet voice gives you goosebumps, the good kind that you often get when listening to music. In fact, if you wanted to be cliché about it, you would swear he had a voice like honey.

Nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside… It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside.

How were you to know that you’d be moving in next to a guy with the voice of an angel?

Eddie’s POV

Eddie Munson had had quite a long day at the garage, where he’d worked for the last five years. A long day full of noise and stress and hard work. Parking his van next to a beat up little car that he didn’t recognize, he headed up the stairs to his second floor apartment. He wanted nothing more than a shower, a beer, and a quiet evening alone at home. Dropping his keys and phone on the kitchen counter, he opened the fridge and grabbed a can. Popping the top of his beer, he made his way back to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Eddie kicked off his shoes in the direction of his closet, shed his grimy, greasy work clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he lets the water get hot and then steps into the tub, taking his drink with him. Standing directly under the stream, as the water runs through his long brown curls, he hummed to himself, then started singing:

I was the light / I was the quiet heart / I was the place we used to dwell. / And when the cold would tear your life apart, / I was the warmth that you had felt

He loved the acoustics of singing metal in the shower, as the hot water washed away everything from the day. Just filling the small bathroom with the sound of music, drinking his beer, and relaxing.

What have I become? / Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

Suddenly a strong, sweet, emotional female voice, coming from the apartment directly next to his, is belting out the next words of the song…

I was the blood inside your broken heart / I was the stone that you had held

Thud! Startled, Eddie drops his can of beer, curses, and picks up his drink. Then he shuts off the shower and stands there in stunned silence. Thinking he was hearing things, he waits until you continue the song…

What have I become? /Thoughts like shadows swelling through my mind. / What have I become? / Something else inside… / It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. / Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside...

He starts singing again, joining in with your lovely voice. He grins to himself as the two of you sing together.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

He hadn’t realized that anyone had actually moved in next door, much less a fellow metal lover. A girl who shares his taste in music is definitely not what he was expecting. He is convinced he has to meet her. As soon as possible. But he doesn’t want the song to end. How to even introduce himself? He wraps himself in his towel and steps out of the tub.

I close my eyes / Search for you / Retracing every step

Excitement rushes through him as the song comes to its final chorus. Grinning at his blurry reflection in the foggy mirror, he decides that this is so much better than a quiet evening. He grabs a smaller towel and squeezes the water out of his curly hair.

It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside…

There’s something about sharing a song with someone else. He can’t even explain it aloud, it’s something he feels inside. Closing his eyes, listening to you. Plus it definitely doesn’t hurt that your voice reminds him of the stars above. And he’d give just about anything to hear it again.

Nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something else inside… It’s driving nails into my soul / Angels from my door. Driving nails into my soul / Something inside.

He simply can’t wait to meet you, his new neighbor, who has the voice of an angel.

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@sweetpeapod

@saramelaniemoon

@eponaartemisa

@onehotgreasymechanic

@apolixyan

(Chapter 2 is out now! Read it at the link below!)

[perverse-idyll]

PI!! Congrats on the fest fic! Also: sending you all the luck and love this holiday season. I'm sure you'll be swamped, if you aren't already! Take it easy and take your time with those WIPs! Though as a big ole fangirl, please talk to me about The Afterlight, because I'm terribly obsessed with it! 🙈

Thank you, Danni! 🥰 Luck and love sound like something we could all use, so I wish you the same! Plus freedom from the shadow that last year's betrayal cast over you and the long-term issues of broken trust and self-doubt they left behind. *hugs*

The Afterlight, oh dear, it's one of my long, rambling, melodramatic stories, like Impossible Without It and The Blood of Stars (which I hadn't look at in ages until a week or so ago when I re-read the ending - it has three of them, like movie version Return of the King - and I almost hid my face in utter embarrassment at how over the top it is). But The Afterlight started out as a "came back wrong" idea that evolved into more of a "came back haunted" story, where the experience of having been dead hangs over Harry and Snape's attempts to create meaningful lives, and it only gets more reckless and obsessive once they get tangled up together - ugh, I'm not explaining this well. So here, have a snippet instead:

Snape had circled around to the other side of the bed. This was Harry's second shock. For weeks, he'd been so focussed on pushing Snape through his convalescence that he'd adjusted to the way he looked now, the ravages of exhaustion and illness hollowing him out until you could see through the surface to what burned inside, the emotions that flickered and glowed through parchment-paper wrappings.

The Snape standing over his sickbed was sleep-deprived and black-robed and positively volcanic, but whole. Over the sound of memory-Harry's laboured breathing, he suddenly said, "No." There was a moment's silence, as if Snape expected Harry to react. Then he leaned over and snarled the next words, swore them, spat them, as if cursing Harry with the Darkest possible magic he could muster from the depths of his soul.

"No. You don't get to do this. You made me love you, Potter. You don't get to do that and then leave me."

The furious anguish in Snape's voice was instantly recognisable, and a strange, sore anger passed through Harry, almost a sense of schadenfreude, at being witness to his honesty. The poisonous intensity of Snape's passion sent an illicit thrill through him, the thrill of being wanted so much, even though being loved in that way, by someone like Snape, was probably not a good thing.

But this was what Snape had removed? This admission of his feelings? Snape's courage was as bitter as everything else about him, yet this mental theft seemed the act of a coward. Had Snape been so deadset against exposing to Harry not just his heart, but his change of heart, that he'd considered it necessary to rob him of every trace? Why not just Obliviate him?

[katelynn-a-fan]

Crackle of Your Voice Chapter 10

Masterlist

Spread out before him was a truly awe-inspired sight that took their breath away. A majestic range of mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see, with the very peak they stood on nestled among them. Below, a vast sea of trees carpeted the landscape, their foliage creating the illusion of a rippling ocean made of bark, branches, and leaves. The peaceful scene was momentarily shattered by the bustling city sprawled out at the foot of the mountains, its structures appearing infinitesimal from their point of view. Cars moved along the roads like even tinier specks, hardly larger than a tic tac on a football field from the perspective of the mountaintop observers.

Patton spoke first “Wow. . . this s. . .”

“Breathtaking.” Roman finished for Patton, peeking at Patton, lips parting, leaning towards Patton slowly, glancing at Patton’s eyes for any hesitancy, when he found none, he let his head fall onto Patton’s shoulder. In the act of doing that, it brought both Roman and Patton’s bodies closer together, their respective legs pressing against each other without either of them meaning to. But neither of them moved, looking content with where they were. Though Patton did move, just enough to place a hand on Roman’s, Roman’s smile deepened when they touched, not taking his eyes off the view. Roman took it one step further, grabbing Patton’s hand and linking their fingers together. Roman brought both of their hands up to leverage himself then to his mouth, placing a kiss on Patton’s lips.

Why do Roman’s lips feel human? Why does his grip feel like that? Why? 

They stayed like that for a while, snacking on their snacks and hydrating themselves after the exercise of getting to the view. Somewhere along the line Patton begun to hum, Roman closing his eyes every once and while, appearing to focus on the sound. After a long silence, Roman raised his head, biting back a big smile, eyes bright as he squeezed Patton’s hand.

“Hey, why don’t we go over there?” Roman pointed with his free hand over to a small outcropping to the side of the overlook. It was made out of a rock jutting out from the mountain, pointing up into the sky. Luckily, it wasn’t too steep, but it did taper off at a point.

Patton bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing his finger over Roman’s hand nervously.

“There’s no guard rail, Roman. One of us could fall! I don’t want that- I- We'll be super careful, right? We’ll-” Patton asked, hand suddenly gripping tight to Roman’s hand, but it was never enough to hurt.

But they can just fix him. Why is it always about Victor? Why does Roman- Why is he- Why? Why!

Roman gently lifted his head from where it rested on Patton's shoulder, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached out to delicately tuck a loose strand of hair behind Patton's ear, causing Patton to inhale sharply, his lips parting slightly in response. Roman's voice lowered to a soft whisper as their faces drew closer, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Their eyes locked in a silent but intense exchange, each seemingly lost in the depth of the other's gaze. The air around them seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, something pulling them closer with each passing heartbeat.

"Of course, my sunbeam, I would never want to worry you so," Roman reassured, his warm voice filled with tenderness as he gently held Patton close. He lingered there, just a hair's breadth away, conveying a sense of comfort and care in the quiet moment. After a beat, he leaned in and placed a sweet, almost fleeting kiss on Patton's lips, a gesture that spoke volumes in its simplicity and affection. Brief yet meaningful, a silent promise of love and reassurance in their shared moment.

Patton whined at how short the kiss was, but Roman was already pushing himself up, slowly stretching his legs, wincing a little but ultimately successfully. Patton and Roman are still holding hands, so Roman shifted backward a little as Patton got up as well, rolling his eyes at Patton’s pouty face when Patton’s steady, a low rumbling laugh that doesn’t pass though Roman’s lips in response.

What? Why is he doing that? Why am I letting him? Why is Roman not a ROBOT? Why? Why?! Why!

-

-

Patton bolted up in bed, his hand clutched to his chest. His breathing was coming in big whooping gasps.

What was that dream?

His hand slid to his forehead as the events of the past weeks flashed by in his head.

He and Roman had successfully maintained their ‘unsteady’ tie streak, just like a handful of the other gladiators.

-

“My hands are cramping up, R, I don’t think we can finish this scene before I slip up.” Patton had muttered in their last fight. Below them had been a faux pirate ship, swaying back and forth to emulate a ship on the high seas.

“Ok, measure up tie scenario… now.”

-

Patton and Roman had the tie scenarios down pat, with the propensity of Roman’s role allowing for some more wacky ties.

But it was as if his subconscious had decided that all of this effort was out of… 

He… He didn’t love Roman like that… Right?

So then why did the memory of that human Roman smiling at him like that make his heart flutter?

This is all happening too fast. I’ve barely known Roman for more than a month or two. So why…

Why did life without Roman seem so dull?

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary308

7/23-24/24

tuesday - wendesday

very good day, today...

a lovely time with my girlfriend, i thought someone else would be coming, she said she would and i was looking forward to that cuz she has been in china for a while teaching, but she did not, cuz jet lagged!! so i got to be alone w/ my gf all day while in the vegas china town zone, which is really just a bunch of strange strip malls. but i like it down there... lots of nostalgia but also good food and stuff. i had like,,, chicken katsu today that was like my first time ever eating it all over again. that was crazy... they make the panko in house, w/ shokupan, it made me kind of emotional, that's the first time food has ever done that. my gf got a crazy sandwich that had green tea bread, which seemed very good . the meat in it was chicken katsu as well.

we also went to this new location for a cafe chain she really likes, called suzuya... that was also delicious, maybe the best matcha latte in vegas + they had these insane mochi + matcha beignets, very insane flavor there, the mochi was kind of like super delicious + genius as a filling in the beignet, it's like post-jelly.

after that we just kind of wandered around a bit, it's very hot but it was just nice to be out with her all day, going to like, stupid stores with toys in them and stuff, we didn't really buy anything but i am glad we just stared at stuff together. maybe that sounds like meaningless or empty, to just like, walk around anonymous shops, but it's nice that we're in that vacuous region together. i mean i guess that's the classic 'making meaning'... it is very special though, i am reflection on all this a little more, being with her all day, getting home, sitting in the bed and watching dumb videos on instagram for toooo longgg (it's always too long but it's nice... honestly, just to be with her (though i also liked laying in silence with her a lot.)), because i was cooking and she was already in bed, and i realized how lonely that is, for one, and how much i miss being able to look over at her and see her doing her thing. just on the computer, watching whatever.

i don't know if i've ever gushed about her here like this, i don't think that's really how 'love' ever feels for me, not that it's not intense, but i like it as a process, but i never really go into it. because it's such a part of living...like breathing, basically, so i just carry on with it, do my best with it, as she does her best, sit in silence, speak, help eachother. it is so meaningful and heavy that it takes up all the air, it's just an atmosphere, i can't compare it to anything, so i'm just left with this fact that is difficult to explicated, beyond saying:

it is.

but it is, an arrow shot through time.

anyway... other stuff from today... i did take selfies but it's late now so i'll do that all tomorrow. tomorrow's errands day. anyway, i also did finish the drawing poem-ish thing-y:

it's funny ,,, it feels good to do stuff like this, even if i am definitely not very good at drawing (obv), but it helps me get better. also i did actually have another doll drawing done but i realized it looked so strange so i just did another, very quickly. i do prefer this one, like i said, it makes me improve!! which is what matters the most... i will say i think i have a good excuse for having obviously weird anatomy here, because the dolls are just weird looking generally. but i hope that's not something that actually needs explaining.

also, today, i found sd laika died. extremely awful and tragic news, he was one of the best to ever make music, i think, in that whole deconstructed club wave, plus his way of taking grime music and totally transforming it into this shambolic thing, it's so beautiful to me. hearing him in highschool really changed me, and honestly i'm far more gutted by this than i thought i'd be. i never even imagined his death. from what i know, his posting songs and then deleting them, he struggled with a lot, so i guess i get a sense why/how it happened... makes it much more sad.

rest in peace:

one of my favorite songs of his. very beautiful and strange stuff here.

maybe a strange thing to note, but i think part of why he worked so well for me, back then and now, he was so uniquely negative in his music, it really is gothic. take this song for instance:

the titles don't feel like, random little throwaway things, i mean they never are (they always color the music in some way) but they feel so pointed, and involved in the song, or maybe that's just the years i've had with this stuff putting that in my mind. the piano here, such a strange sound palette, it sounds so physical/present, it's a mutant drinking song, some kind of negating force from history, a great heaping muck-body thing emerging over a landscape.

what really bites about this death, is that he's been dead since last year, and it's only getting passed around now because people found it more recently on his lastfm page, a friend of his made the announcement. fucking tragic. he's been awol a long time, as well, nobody ever expected to hear from him again... what a nightmare.

such a desperate record, sonically. totally unique, i feel bad, that his death is doing so much to remind me of what his music was to me. that feels very fucked up of me. like i feel a little evil for it. this record was also something everyone had to hear, when it came out, the fact it made its way to me, crazy. nothing else like it, so futuristic, it's still futuristic.

maybe negative isn't the best word... well idk. i like it, it is negative music, but it's not music that suggests life is worthless or something, it's only just that the desperation of the music, his really exceptional melodic sense, and its physicality, the use of these digital failures, all the glitches, the inconstancy of the music, it's music which sort of acknowledges life as this thrashing thing, facing a horizon, and the reach/wriggling towards that horizon, hoping it will end, and all there really is, is the thrashing. nothing truly upwards, it's all body, it's all tragedy, but it affirms that, maybe its futurity is that it negates all teleology, music that moves through the wrestling with life. this makes it a little harder to listen to, at the same rate, it feels true to me, and part of why i was able to get so much out of it, music which hits that particular note, some kind of dancing amid despair, it is a very dear thing.

of course, if he were here seeing me say all this, he might feel it unfair to put all this on his music, this is just what comes out of him... the sounds he likes and things like that, it could all be intuitive. not that my read doesn't matter in the face of that just the strangeness of how anyone might feel having all that stuck to them. ultimately, i would just like to express some kind of love for what he did. i wonder if what it means to me means anything at all. i mean, no, it doesn't. but it's how i reach out and touch the thing itself at all, i guess.

otherwise, beyond the drawing and the lovely date and the cooking alone and the death, uhmmm, i mixed a couple of songs, i would like to write riffs soon though,,

but even sooner... i need to sleep. hopefully i can sleep okay tonight... last night was a little harder. basically i think i could have like a uti or something... i don';t want to get into the details of it but really i have no clue where i could have gotten anything like that. hopefully it is not a uti but it has to be something... unless this is just my life now... feeling like i have to pee always and not being able to pee.... that makes me contemplate dying. i hate that i seem to keep getting sick for no reason. what did i do to deserve this... probably a lot.

anyway i need to sleep soon . but since i am having the peeing trouble i will probably sit here a bit until i feel most comfortable to sleep. sucks.. . . .. blehhh , ..

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[adoringhaikyuu]

date night

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

summary: atsumu forgets about date night :/

warnings: a lil sad but not too bad

word count 1.1k

notes: this was inspired by this audio lol

at first you thought that he was just running late––it happened sometimes, that's just how he was. but as you watched the time pass by ––ten minutes, then twenty... by the hour mark, you'd given up.

he forgot. he forgot about the date night that you both planned in advance, weeks ago. atsumu had been so busy for the past few months, you were so excited to just have one night to each other, one night to have him all to yourself.

you dressed up nice, putting on your fanciest, sexiest dress and heels, you took your time to get ready, knowing this was a special night, the first night you'd go out with your boyfriend in a while. and it didn't happen.

the reservation was an hour ago, and atsumu was two hours late. you were contemplating going to bed when the door burst open to reveal atsumu, panting, eyes frantic and apologetic. "baby fuck, i'm so sorry––" he practically ran towards you, throwing off his jacket and kicking off his shoes haphazardly.

he ran his hands through his hair, trying to give you a small smile but you wouldn't look at him, choosing to focus, or rather pretend to focus on the tv. "it completely slipped my mind honey, i promise i didn't mean to blow you off––not that that makes it better..."

he was met with silence and his shoulders sunk as he stepped towards you hesitantly, his feet dragging like a small child. "c'mon baby i would never do that to you on purpose, i mean...look at you, i––god i'm a fucking idiot."

you nodded subtly but he didn't comment on it, his eyes still trailing along your body. your dress fit you perfectly, it accentuated all your best features and your shoes––you rarely wore shoes like that, though they were sexy, he knew they also hurt like a bitch, so the fact that you wore those for him and he didn't even show up? he had a lot of making up to do.

"baby doll please look at me, let me see those gorgeous eyes so you can see how sorry i am." he cursed quietly to himself, looking around for some sort of answer. "please don't ignore me princess."

you kept your eyes trained forward, your tongue in your cheek as you tried to calm yourself down, the frustration and disappointment still lingering in your mind, making your body buzz. you sighed, "i don't know what you want from me, atsumu."

you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouting dramatically, eyes wide. "wh––atsumu? what happened to baby? or bub?" he got on his knees in front of you and placed his hands on your thighs but you looked to the side, not wanting to give in.

you crossed your arms, your voice quiet when you spoke up again. "where were you?"

you noticed him hesitate and scratch the back of his head nervously. "i––well i was with the boys baby and––"

you nodded your head and he paused, scared that he'd said the wrong thing, he didn't want to mess up even more tonight. "but as soon as i remembered i came running home." you got up, and walked past him but he was quick to stand up and follow you. "but you love the boys don't you?" he was trying to make the situation better any way he could, thinking that maybe if he reminded you that you liked them, and even considered them your own friends, you wouldn't be as upset––shit logic, he knows.

you kept walking until you made it to your bedroom, "yeah i do, but they're always with you, tsumu." tsumu, that was better than his full name. you glanced over your shoulder briefly, the hurt look in your eyes stopping him in his tracks for a brief moment. "i just wanted to be with you, for once. i just––can't remember the last time we had a night to ourselves. i missed you." fuck.

you made your way in front of your vanity, looking in the mirror as you reached up to take out your earrings when atsumu's hand gently wrapped around your wrist in mid-air. "wait wait," he brought your hand up to his face and kissed your wrist, pressing his cheek into your palm. "i'm so sorry babygirl, please don't get undressed, you look too good to let all this go to waste. let me take you out, show you off–"

you shook your head, "it's late."

he felt like crying, "but––"

you shook your head again, letting your hand drop to your side. "i'm tired, babe." you reached for your earrings again and this time he didn't stop you, watching you put them away in your jewelry box.

you walked over to your side of the bed and sat down and atsumu dropped back down on his knees, reaching to take your heels off for you. "i'll make it up to you tomorrow––i'll blow off practice and you'll have me all to yourself all twenty-four hours, promise."

you appreciated the effort but sighed, both from his words and the feeling of his hands gently massaging their way from the heel to the ball of your foot. you hadn't actually walked with them so your feet weren't hurting, but you weren't going to reject the massage. "you can't just skip, you're on a professional team."

he moved onto the other foot, bringing it up to kiss your ankle. "sure i can, i just won't go." he was serious as ever, yet you couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

you ran a hand through his hair and he smiled, content with the affection you were showing him. "you're really not gonna let this go, huh?"

he shook his head and kissed up one of your calves, his hand caressing the other. "of course not." he looked at you earnestly and you could tell he wasn't joking around. "i hurt my girl and i've gotta make it up to her." he leaned up on his knees between your legs and tilted his head up towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes. "kiss?"

you bit your lip and nodded, placing your hand on his cheeks to pull him in for a sweet kiss and he sighed, hands resting on your thighs. it wasn't like your usual passionate ones, it wasn't intense, it was short but meaningful, a reassurance. when you both pulled away, he looked at you, a warm gaze in his eyes. "i love you pretty girl, i will make this right, i swear."

[creationofacentury]

(Read this first)

When they were planing to move into season 8, they were excited. Very excited, just like every hermits, until they realized they couldn’t bring Grumbot and Jrumbot along.

And the fact they had to reset the server didn't help, either.

They were devastated. But they settled into season 8, built a boatem, and thought they could at least make peace with the fact that they would never see their children again,

Turned out, they couldn’t.

Living in the same server which their sons once were felt like stepping on their ashes. Sometimes Grian would strap his elytra tight on his back and flew until his shoulder couldn’t handle or his rockets ran out, refusing to touch the ground. Sometimes Mumbo would stay in his AFK tower with his mind wandered to nowhere, everything about redstone far away from him. Sometimes Grian would start a mustache joke only to swallow them back half way through, and Mumbo would stay away from any reflection for hours.

They tried to send messages to their children at the start of season 8, but of course there was no response. Because the server had been reseted. Their children are gone forever.

-

“Mumbo, I want to try again.”

Mumbo sighs. He busies himself with the comparators, but Grian’s stare burns through his back with its intensity. He sighs again and puts the comparators down.

“Grian. I would like to, you know how much I want to. But I- we talked about this. We need to move on. We can’t keep doing this.” He dusts off the redstone remnants on his hands, turning to look at Grian, who look at him with a pained expression.

“I know- I know, I know we talked about this,” Grian says, desperate, “but what if it actually worked? What if they actually got them all, but just couldn’t sent anything back?”

Mumbo holds the silence for a moment. He sighs once again.

“...Grian,”

Grian’s face fall, “-Don’t.”

Mumbo just feels tired. He sits down, leans on the chest full of redstone (the irony, he thinks), and he utters, “Just this once, Grian.”

Grian doesn’t cheer. He sits down quietly besides Mumbo and mutters a ‘thanks’. Mumbo reaches over to hug him, and he hugs back. They stay like that for hours.

-

[file loading...]

[audio setting complete...]

[file playing...]

Silence.

Static noises.

Sounds of computer calculating.

“Dads! Hi, you are still in hibernation, but I don’t think you would meet me when you wake up, so I just want to say, I got all the messages from the monitoring. Also! Don’t worry about us! Brother and I were rescued by Renbob, we are in a safe place, and we are doing meaningful things. So go ahead and have a great time in season 9! We want you to be happy, that’s the reason why Brother and I came to this world.”

Silence.

“Jrum, do you want to talk to Dads?”

Sounds of computer calculating.

“It will be fine. Just transfer your file over. What? Of course they miss you too, don’t be silly.”

Static noises.

Another voice comes in.

“Dads, We are very well-behaved, I promise! You can ask Renbob and Goat Man about it. We didn’t sleep with diamonds either, though sometimes Brother-”

The voice is muffled.

“Grumbot, don’t cut off my file, I saw that! Dads, he is always staring at his stash before going to bed!” A pause. ”Don’t worry though, I always stop him. You know he just likes diamonds very much.”

Static noises.

The two voices says at the same time. “We love you, Dads. See you.”

Static noises.

[end of the file.]

-

(edit: 30, Nov, 2023. Fixed some grammar and phrasing problems.)

[beguines]

Podcast Recommendations for Christian Mystics, Religious Leftists, and Others:

Descriptions are taken from the podcasts/their websites, not written by me. Some of these I enjoy or recommend more than others, but tastes vary. Favorites of mine are starred. These recommendations aren't considered an endorsement of all the content within, even those that I consider my favorites. I hope this list can be helpful for some!

Encountering Silence: Encountering Silence explores the beauty and importance of silence from many angles, not just the religious/spiritual/mystical, but also reflecting on the psychology of silence, silence and the arts, silence and politics, silence and education… the list goes on. For a topic that we often don't devote a lot of time and energy to, silence certainly has an important (if quiet!) role in all our lives. ⭐

Faith & Capital: Faith and Capital is a show inviting Christians to participate in the struggle for emancipation from the system of capitalism. ⭐⭐⭐

The Liberation Theology Podcast: A weekly look at the basic concepts of Latin American liberation theology with David Inczauskis, SJ. ⭐⭐⭐ (A great introduction to liberation theology for those who are perhaps less familiar with the subject; episode 4 in particular explores the tensions and relationship between Christianity and Marxism.)

Turning to the Mystics: Turning to the Mystics is a podcast for people searching for something more meaningful, intimate and richly present in the divine gift of their lives. James Finley, clinical psychologist and Living School faculty, offers a modern take on the historical contemplative practices of Christian mystics like Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Leaning into their experiences can become a gateway to hope, healing and oneness. Together with Kirsten Oates from the Center for Action and Contemplation, they explore listener questions and examine their own paths as modern contemplatives in this beautiful and broken world. ⭐⭐⭐

Deus Ex Musica: Hosted by Delvyn Case, the Deus Ex Musica Podcast explores the many fascinating intersections between music and the Christian faith. Each episode features a guest who discusses their journey as a musician and a Christian, then dives deeper into their work.

PTR (Post-structuralist Tent Revival): Continental philosophy, theology, useless commentary on various issues. (This was a particularly good episode)

On Being: A Peabody Award-winning public radio show and podcast. What does it mean to be human? How do we want to live? And who will we be to each other? Each week a new discovery about the immensity of our lives. Hosted by Krista Tippett. (As On Being has a massive archive, here's one of my favorite episodes)

Sufi Heart: The Sufi Heart podcast with Omid Safi features teachings and stories about a sacred tradition of love, one that manifests outwardly as justice and inwardly as tenderness.  Drawing primarily on the wisdom of the Islamic tradition as well as the legacies of the Civil Rights movements and other wisdom teachings, Omid invites you to a meditation on the transformative power of love and recalling the necessity of linking healing our own hearts with healing the world. ⭐⭐⭐ (Episodes one through five are particularly special to me and I love to revisit them. Omid Safi has the most wonderful, melodic voice and I could listen to it forever.)

Another Name for Every Thing: Another Name for Every Thing with Richard Rohr is a conversational podcast series on the deep connections between action and contemplation. Richard is joined by two students of the Christian contemplative path, Brie Stoner and Paul Swanson, who seek to integrate the wisdom amidst diapers, disruptions, and the shifting state of our world.

Homilies with Richard Rohr: From time to time Fr. Richard speaks at his local parish, Holy Family Church, in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

The Magnificast: Started in the wake of Donald Trump’s inauguration in the United States, The Magnificast is a podcast exploring Christianity and the political left. A lot of people around the world are looking for ways to resist growing reactionary trends, but don’t know where to start. We think the Christian tradition and the tradition of leftist politics provide unique resources, historical examples, and theoretical tools for engaging these problems in ways that go beyond the usual conservative/liberal divide that characterizes a lot of Christian and political discourse. Inspired by Mary’s song of praise, we talk about how to fill the hungry with good things and send the rich away empty. ⭐⭐⭐ (There are too many good episodes to pick and choose what to highlight. They have some great ones about unions and organized labor that I would recommend to anyone who is less familiar with these things!)

Homebrewed Christianity: Our job us to get you the best audiological ingredients so you can brew your own faith. Each episode centers around an interview with a different thinker, theologian, or philosopher. ⭐ (A great listen for people who are more interested in intense dives into theological topics.)

Things Not Seen: Conversations about culture and faith. Things Not Seen is an independent radio show and podcast that features in-depth interviews with nationally recognized guests. Each week, we welcome authors, musicians, politicians, filmmakers, and more.

Lonely Mountain Mystics: For those finding faith or losing it; for those who feel they no longer fit where they once did. For those who have been hurt, helped, broken or healed by faith experience and find that their current spiritual journey has led them wandering some place wild, unknown and far from home; you’re not alone. "A podcast for the spiritually homeless", the show follows the hosts conversations about faith, love, and how to practice them. 

Public Theologians: As public theologians, Jerran and Casey believe that everything about us says something about God and something about the world. The late theologian James Cone phrased it like this: "theology is political language. What people think about God, Jesus Christ, and the church cannot be separated from their own social and political status in a society." While silence on issues that have been deemed by religious talking heads as secondary matters (from poverty to war to movements) will always be an easier route, we know that there has to be a better way. We’re here to push for that better way.

Bread and Rosaries: A UK podcast about Christianity and the left. (This is a relatively new podcast that I have yet to listen to, but what a great name!)

[irrelevantwriter]

White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it. 

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom  sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately. 

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​