#yes that sweater is from one of my other ocs

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

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Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration���not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

[msbigredmachine]

An Angelic Christmas (Roman Reigns)

On their first Christmas together, Roman and Naima share heartfelt gifts, tender moments, and an intimate celebration that deepens their connection. A glimpse into the unlikeliest of love stories that’s about to unfold.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This is based off characters from my upcoming multi-chapter Roman fic (yes I know, it's been a while, lol) to be out in January. Look out for it!

gif belongs to @romanreigns

divider belongs to @bernardsbendystraws

The Miami sun is high in the sky, casting its golden rays over the famed city. Palm trees sway gently in the breeze, adorned with twinkling lights that sparkle even in the daylight, giving the vibrant streets a festive charm. 

Roman’s penthouse, perched high above the bustling streets, is no exception. Ornaments of red and green and gold glimmer on a ten-foot high Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, a towering contrast to the sleek modernity of the space. It’s not exactly the snowy holiday Naima grew up with in Atlanta, but she’s not complaining. Not when she’s with her man.

Naima hums along to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blasting through the speakers, twirling a wooden spoon in her hand as she checks on the smoky jollof rice in the kitchen. The turkey is ready and well stuffed, so that is settled. Her bare feet pad softly across the hardwood floor, her movements fluid and effortless, the dancer in her kicking in. Chief, their three-month-old Staffy puppy, is sprawled nearby, lazily gnawing on a holiday-shaped chew toy that she bought him.

Roman sets the table, looking at his girlfriend with an amused smirk. “Mariah again?” he teases, his deep voice cutting through the music.

Naima turns, feigning offense. “Not you actin' like you don’t love this song, big guy.”

He chuckles, stepping closer to her. “It’s a classic, I’ll give you that.”

She rolls her eyes, scoops a spoonful of rice and blows on it before holding it up to his lips. “Here. Taste this.”

Roman takes the bite, chewing slowly. The smoky flavor hits his tongue first, followed by the rich spices that taste even better than the last one she made a month ago. He lets out a low hum of approval.

“Damn, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Naima grins, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling. “That’s just the rice. Wait till you try the turkey and plantain.”

Roman glances at the counter where the massive golden-brown turkey rests, surrounded by perfectly caramelized plantains and a big bowl of sapasui specially made for him. His diet, meticulously planned for his wrestling, is going to take a serious hit tonight. But he doesn’t care. It’s Christmas, and Naima’s cooking is worth every cheat day.

“Diet starts tomorrow,” he declares, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her close.

“Tomorrow,” she insists, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Tonight, you’re eating everything I made, handsome.”

Roman chuckles to himself as she kisses his cheek and walks away, his gaze dropping to those long, shapely legs of hers. Naima has been in his life for a while now, but every time they are together, it feels like a fresh challenge—a battle of wills he doesn’t mind losing. Most of the time.

The table is set with mismatched plates—his playful touch—and candles flickering softly in the center. Chief sits obediently at the side, eyeing the turkey but making no moves toward it, as if he knows better. The couple sits right next to each other on the table. Roman’s red-and-green sweater fits him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Naima’s matching sweater is oversized and hangs loose on her frame, exposing one shoulder and riding up her thighs each time she moves. Of course, Roman notices, and his hand rests possessively on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles in that affectionate, sensual way that always leaves her weak.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Naima says, nodding toward the huge tree and the perfectly arranged garland along the fireplace. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing like that.”

Roman smiles, his hand tightening just slightly on her leg. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d cry if we didn’t at least have a tree.”

Naima smacks his shoulder, though a grin spreads across her face. “You ain’t right!”

“I’m just sayin’,” he teases, his baritone laced with humor. “You been talking about Christmas since Halloween ended. Couldn’t let you down, mamas. After all, this is your first Christmas outside Atlanta. Am I right?” 

Naima nods and sips her glass of champagne. “Yep. Feels weird not being with Adara and Julien, but…this is nice. Different, but nice.”

Roman cuts out a large piece of turkey and places it in Chief’s bowl, the little puppy gobbling the meat happily. “You talk to them today?” he asks. Knowing how close she is to her sister and nephew, he can already guess the answer.

“Of course,” she replies, “Adara says hi. And Julien was hyped about that new wrestling game you sent him. You officially won Christmas with that.”

He chuckles, proud. “Kid’s got good taste.”

Naima leans back in her chair, watching her boyfriend for a moment. There's something so easy about the way they’re together, the way they fit into each other’s lives despite their wildly different worlds. She loves this version of Roman—relaxed, unguarded, a far cry from the intense Tribal Chief persona that dominates the squared circle. Here, he gets to be just him. With her. His safe space.

She's honored.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” she tells him, affection in her voice.

Roman’s gaze softens. “Me too, baby girl.”

After dinner, they retreat to the couch, plates of leftover plantain and wine glasses in hand. Chief curls up at their feet, munching on a leftover turkey leg. Roman’s arm is draped over Naima’s shoulder, his fingers lazily playing with her long hair. She rests against him, her legs stretched across his lap as “Home Alone” plays on the 64-inch TV.

“You got one more present,” Roman announces suddenly.

Naima raises an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed on no more presents.” They've already exchanged small gifts earlier in the day—she gave him a custom leather wrestling gear bag embroidered with his initials, and he surprised her with a sleek pair of Saint Laurent knee-high boots she’d been eyeing for months. 

“I ain’t agree to shit,” he smirks, a small, wrapped box materializing in his hand. “Here.”

Naima sits up, taking the box from him and unwrapping it carefully. Her jaw drops as she takes in the unmistakable Harry Winston packaging, her fingers trembling slightly as she unties the ribbon. She carefully opens the box, her breath catching as her eyes fall on the exquisite piece inside—a diamond necklace that glimmers like a constellation of stars. The delicate chain, made of intricate diamond clusters, forms a flawless, radiant circle that exudes elegance and timeless luxury, leaving her utterly speechless.

“Baby…”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says, his tone casual, though the way his eyes linger on her face betray how much the gift means to him. “You light up my life, mamas. Figured it was fitting.”

Her throat tightens as he helps her put the necklace on, the cool chain resting against her skin. “Thank you. It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.

“Well, it was either this or the anklet,” he adds with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows as he caresses the back of her leg, “Woulda been great for these long-ass legs I can’t stop staring at.”

“You always gotta be so extra,” she giggles, her voice teasing but shaky.

Roman grins, his eyes bright and happy. “You bring it out of me,” he whispers, his heart swelling as she holds him tight. He will never tire of moments like this with her.

“Your turn,” she announces, reaching behind the couch to grab a flat, rectangular package.

Roman unwraps the paper carefully, revealing a framed portrait of the two of them sitting on an equipment crate backstage after his match at Summerslam. He was still in his wrestling gear, his Undisputed Championship resting on his lap, while Naima sat beside him, close enough for their thighs to touch. Her arms are around him and their eyes are closed, heads tilted and leaning against each other as if the world had disappeared for just that moment. The image, captured by Naomi, radiates intimacy and quiet strength, capturing everything unspoken between them in that stillness.

He is quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on the frame.

“You don’t like it?” Naima questions, suddenly uncertain.

“I love it,” he breathes, his voice low but full of emotion. “This…” He trails off, his fingers grazing the edge of the frame. “This is amazing, baby girl.”

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of who’s always in your corner,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.

Roman sets the frame down carefully and hugs her again. “I love you. You’re my everything,” he murmurs, the weight of his words settling between them.

Naima shivers, her heart racing for him like it always does. “I love you too. And you’re mine.” Her fingers clasp behind his neck as she pulls him in for a kiss. It starts slow, purposeful, their lips meeting in a way that feels as natural as breathing. Naima’s hands frame Roman’s face, her fingertips brushing against his beard as their mouths move in perfect sync. It's sensual, unhurried, yet electric enough to send shivers down their spines. 

Roman’s large hands roam down her back, possessive and sure, pulling her closer until she’s in his lap. When she moans softly into his mouth, it ignites something primal in him. The sound drives him crazy, her lips and her voice working together to undo him in a way no one else ever has. It’s a reminder of everything they share—the connection that goes beyond words, beyond the teasing and playful banter.

When they finally pull apart, she rests her forehead against his, her breathing unsteady. “Believe it or not, I got one more gift for you,” she informs him, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “It’s red and made of satin and lace.”

“Yeah?” Roman’s voice roughens, his hands still on her hips.

She leans in close, her teeth tugging on his earlobe as she whispers, “Mm-hmm. But you get to see it later.”

Roman groans low in his throat, his hold on her tightening. “You really tryna test my patience, huh?”

Naima laughs, sliding off his lap before he can pull her back. “Ya know what they say, baby; patience is a virtue.”

The rest of the night passes in a haze of laughter, wine, and stolen touches. Chief dozes near the fireplace, his tiny snores filling the silence of the now-muted TV. As Naima cleans up the dishes from their late-night snacks, Roman leans against the counter, watching her.

“You ever think about what’s next?” he asks suddenly.

She glances over her shoulder, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“For us,” he elaborates, his voice unwavering.

Naima pauses, her hands stilling. “I mean…I’m happy right now. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I am. But I’m talking like, big picture. Like, what happens when we’re not doing this flying-back-and-forth shit anymore? What if you moved to Miami permanently? With me.”

Naima turns to face him fully, leaning against the sink. “That means leaving Adara and Julien in Atlanta. Leaving Exotica. I know you’d love that,” she rolls her eyes.

Roman shrugs. “Well, it is your workplace, regardless of my feelings towards it. But we can figure that out together. Right?”

She exhales, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. I try not to think about it too much. Kinda feels like jinxing it.”

He pushes off the counter, narrowing the distance between them. “I get it. I just want you to know I’m serious about this. About us. I don’t care where you came from or what you’ve done. I just…I’m all in with you.”

Naima gazes at him, her chest tightening. “You sure you know what you’re gettin’ into, Reigns?” she whispers.

Roman grins, his hands finding her waist. “Baby girl, I’ve been sure pretty much since the day I met you.”

Her smile is wide and her heart feels impossibly full. “Guess I better go put your present on, then.”

Roman’s laughter echoes through the penthouse as she saunters off, her long legs carrying her toward his bedroom. “Don’t take too long,” he calls after her.

Ten minutes later, Naima’s heart is still racing with excitement. She can feel the heat of the shower still lingering on her body, buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. Roman’s words echo in her head; “Don’t take too long.” 

A playful grin crosses her lips. It will definitely be worth the wait.

The silk robe is soft and gentle on her skin as she moves around the bedroom. The lights are dimmed just enough to set the mood. She reaches for the speaker, turning on a playlist full of sultry, slow R&B songs that she uses for her private dances. Usually, she has an audience of several, tossing dollars at her, hungry for more. Tonight, her audience consists of just one, the most important one; Roman Reigns himself, her man…her everything.

She stands in front of the full-length mirror and lets her long, damp hair cascade down her back, shimmering under the soft lighting. She takes a deep breath as she eyes her reflection, seeing a stark difference between the woman staring back at her and the one from seven years ago.

Well done, Naima. Well done.

She quickly goes to the gift bag she’d tucked away, pulling out the lingerie she had purchased specially for him—a festive red set with white fur trim and a playful Santa-inspired design. The bra and thong set hugs her curves perfectly, and she can feel herself getting wetter, more eager. She doesn’t need much of an excuse to get her man all worked up, but tonight? Tonight is different.

She peeks her head through the door and calls out to him, her voice low and teasing. “Baby, I need some help in here!”

As he enters the bedroom, his gaze immediately falls on her—no longer in the oversized sweater, but in blood red lingerie, looking like a vision. His mouth goes dry, his pants tightening as he drinks in the sight.

“Goddamn, baby girl,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with desire. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes scanning her, taking in the way the fabric clings to her slender body. “You look fucking incredible.”

“You like it, big daddy?” she asks, her voice dripping with temptation as she strikes a pose that extends her already long legs.

“Like it? I fucking love it,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “But how the hell are you not tired from all the cooking?”

Naima’s lips curve into a sultry smile as she inches closer to him, her hips swaying with every step. “I’m never too tired to please you, Ro.”

Roman’s expression softens, but there’s a spark of something else in his eyes—anticipation. He doesn't respond at first, just watches as she takes his hand and leads him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He obeys without question, his body already tingling with desire.

She walks over to the speakers and turns the volume up just enough. The sultry, slow beat of “To My Bed” by Chris Brown fills the room, its sensual tone ensconcing them both like a velvet blanket. She stands for a moment, letting the rhythm of the song take over her body. The satin fabric of her lingerie shimmers as she dances, her movements sensual and determined, drawing him in. There’s no rush from her—each motion is deliberate, designed to drive him crazy. 

Roman’s hands rest on his knees, gripping them tightly, the intensity in his gaze saying more than words can express. His breath quickens as she turns and gives him an eyeful of the thong that’s swallowed up by her fat, bountiful ass cheeks. Then, she slowly approaches him, her legs long and lithe, flexing with an effortless grace. She leans forward, pushing her chest in his face, her hands smoothing over his broad shoulders. 

“You like what you see, big guy?” she inquires, her voice low and smokier than her jollof, dripping with sex and authority, knowing she has him in the palm of her hand.

“Damn right I do,” Roman growls in response, his hands closing over her breasts, the tension in the air as thick as a storm about to break.

A slow smile plays across her lips, a smile that sends shivers through him. She reaches up and places a Santa hat on his head, her fingers brushing over his scalp before letting the hat sit on top.

“Guess you’re my Christmas gift, huh?” she teases, winking at him, her fingers lightly tapping the top of the hat.

Roman can’t help but snicker despite the lust pulsing through him. “You know it, mamas. Just unwrap me already.”

Naima stands in front of him for a moment, her body swaying, the sheer satin glistening against her skin as the lights of the room catches the fabric just right. Roman’s eyes roam over her, memorizing every inch. Her body, her long legs, that damn sexy smile of hers, the way she looks in the tiny underwear. She knows how to play him like a violin, and tonight he is her willing instrument.

Naima’s smile grows as she slowly unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the floor, exposing the breasts and pierced nipples that never fail to make his mouth water. She drops down low, then slowly rolls back up as her hands run over her curves, caressing herself. She hears his breathing getting heavier, and that only fuels her further. She lets the music take control, her body moving with a confidence that only Roman can bring out of her.

His eyes are glued to her, his expression a mix of lust and admiration. “You’re killing me, mamas,” he growls, his voice clogged with desire.

She stops for a moment, standing in front of him, her ample chest rising and falling with each breath. “Oh, I’m just getting started, big guy,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. “You’ve been a good boy tonight, so I think you’ve earned a little something special.”

Roman chuckles darkly, his hands resting on the bed now, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “You’ve got no idea what I’m gonna do to you after this.”

Naima smirks, her confidence skyrocketing as his hungry stare stalks her every move. With her back to him, she sensually shimmies between his parted legs and lowers herself onto his lap. Her backside rests right on his crotch as she keeps moving, rolling her ass back and forth in a manner that makes his jaw clench. She throws a sly glance over her shoulder, catching the way his hands twitch, aching to touch her again.

“What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle it?” she taunts, her voice low and teasing.

Roman exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling as his hands shoot up to grab her waist. His fingers dig into her skin as she bounces her ass on him, the enticing rhythm making his entire body flare up with heat. “Goddamn, baby.”

Naima’s laugh is rich, full of mischief and lust as she presses back harder, causing him to groan. “That’s right, daddy, watch me throw this fat ass on you,” she moans, steadying herself with her hands on his knees while her hips and ass do all the talking.

Roman tilts his head back for a moment, shutting his eyes tightly as he feels himself throb from the near unbearable friction. “You keep this up and I’m not gonna last long,” he growls, reaching out to squeeze her backside wreaking havoc on his stiff crotch.

“That's the plan,” she shoots back, grinding against him some more before standing up abruptly, leaving him gaping at her like she’s just snatched his soul. “Gotta give Santa his Christmas dance,” she giggles, stepping back and twerking to the music again.

Roman licks his lips as he adjusts himself and the hat on his head. “Santa’s getting impatient, baby girl. You better finish that dance quick before I take what’s mine.”

Naima's eyes are fixated on her man as she tugs on the waistband of her thong and slips it down her legs, tossing it playfully at him which he catches easily. Her body is now completely bare, save for the light sheen of sweat that clings to her skin, making her glow. She straddles him again, leaning in so their noses almost touch. “What if I don’t wanna finish, big daddy?” she murmurs, her lips brushing his teasingly.

This time, Roman doesn’t hesitate. He grips her thighs and flips them over, pinning her beneath him. The bed shifts under their combined weight as he stares down at her, his smirk widening. “I know where I wanna finish,” he mutters, his voice catching right before he crushes his mouth to hers. His big hands eagerly roam her curves as he presses himself against her, the warmth of her naked body sparking a fire he can’t extinguish.

With a teasing grin, Naima pulls his sweater off him and helps him shove his pants down. Then, moving with surprising speed and strength, she rolls them over so she is back on top. Her hands smooth down his chest, running her fingers over the muscles of his abdomen, and she reaches down to grip his length, massaging him for a second or two before sliding him inside her. 

With a soft moan, she sits up and presses her hands on his chest, pinning him down as he drops his hands from her waist to her ass, squeezing the supple cheeks. His grip tightens as she rides him with the skill of an equestrian, her shapely hips rolling and rotating, seemingly spelling her name on him. He can feel her wetness seeping between them, the friction driving him crazy.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “You make me lose my fuckin' mind.”

Naima dips down, capturing his lips with a passion that sends fireworks off in his brain. The kiss is deep, intense—needy. Their tongues tangle with an urgency that speaks volumes to their never-ending lust for each other, Roman’s hips joining the frantic dance of want as he meets her halfway with deep thrusts right against her sweet spot. The scent of her perfume—something floral and warm—mingles with the sweet musk of desire, and his head spins from the intoxicating combination.

“Shit, Ro…” Naima moans. She grips the pillow behind Roman’s head as she pounces and bounces on his dick with increased urgency, the slickness of her pussy, the feel of him deep inside her, making everything feel like it’s about to explode. She lets out another breathy moan, her face nuzzling his neck, her heavy pants sprouting goosebumps on his skin. Roman’s breath catches in his throat as the feel of her beautiful body writhing on top of him, along with a dizzying myriad of sensations, nudges him closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” he growls, his eyes hazy with pleasure as he stares up at her, “Baby, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

Naima smiles down at him, her hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves, her chest rising and falling in tandem with her rising and falling on his dick. She cups his face, gazing right into his eyes as she whispers, “Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Roman’s eyes darken with lust. It’s the easiest confession he’ll ever make. “You're the best I’ve ever had, baby girl. By a mile. Don’t nobody fuck me like you do,” he professes.

Her body responds to his praise like a fine-tuned instrument. Her movements become faster, more desperate with every dropdown. Their foreheads press together, and she groans as he suddenly shifts and flips her underneath him. He hitches her legs higher around his waist and pumps into her determinedly, cursing as the new angle deepens his reach inside her. Overwhelmed, Naima's eyes squeeze shut, her fingernails in his back, swept away by the intensity of their passion, reverberating through the entire master bedroom as euphoria comes calling. The bed rocks harder from the force of Roman's thrusts, indescribable pleasure drawing them closer and closer.

“Open your eyes, Naima. Look at me when you come,” Roman coaxes her with a kiss, his voice almost pleading as his fingers brush along her stomach and find that sensitive spot between her legs. He toys with it, his personal pleasure button, playing with the sticky mess she’s made and luxuriating in the sounds of her shaky moans as he fucks her into the mattress.

Naima obeys and locks glazed, unfocused eyes with him, barely holding on as the world crescendos around them. Only a half-minute later, it all comes crashing down like a tidal wave—powerful, overwhelming, all-encompassing. Naima screams as her juices gush from the impact, all over his dick, her entire frame shaking with the bone-tingling intensity of her orgasm. Roman’s grip on her and on reality falters as her pussy tightens around him, sparking his release, his drenched dick pulsing and twitching as he fills her to the brim. They collapse together, panting and sweaty, spent and wrecked. He rolls onto his back and immediately pulls her close, his face buried in her hair as he struggles to catch his breath.

Naima lets out a contented sigh, smiling as she nestles against his chest. “Guess that was a Christmas gift for both of us, huh?” she murmurs.

Roman chuckles, his lips meeting her forehead. “You’re the best gift I could ever ask for, baby.”

She smiles up at him, her heart warm and full. “And you’re mine. You don’t know what you’ve done for me, Roman.”

And with one more heartfelt kiss, they cling to each other, their bodies still buzzing from the most beautiful experience, knowing that the holiday season has brought them even closer—if that was even possible.

🎄THE END...for now.🎄

Read Finding Angel here

Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

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[whizzing-fizzbee]

Laundry Day

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI; all characters are adults Words: ~3,300 Tags: MDNI, smut, light dom/sub, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, third person POV

Summary: Sebastian Sallow's clothing continues to disappear from the laundry and he can't figure out why. Once he discovers the truth, he gets repayment for his missing wardrobe. A brief continuation of Death By A Thousand Freckles.

Notes: This is just a quick little random nonsense sequel to Death By A Thousand Freckles, though you don't necessarily need to read that first. Nothing too out of the ordinary, and now I'll return to writing inbox requests. ❤️

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow could have sworn he’d sent three green sweaters to be laundered that week. It was one of the many perks of being a Hogwarts student. The school house elves did the laundry twice per week, magically whisking away all the clothing and returning it clean and neatly pressed.

But only two green sweaters were returned to Sebastian today. He frowned as he dug through his trunk in search of the third. Perhaps the house elves had lost it, though he’d never heard of such a thing happening. The house elves were meticulous and organized, but Sebastian decided it would be quite easy to mix up the students’ uniforms. It wasn’t like Sebastian was the only seventh year who wore Slytherin sweaters. Still, it struck him as odd that various items of his wardrobe were vanishing without a trace.

It started with his house scarf. It went missing at the start of the spring term, but Sebastian assumed another student had mistakenly picked it up.

But then his button-down uniform shirts started to disappear. He wasn’t particularly fond of those, but he needed them for classes. But every other Slytherin owned the same shirts, so perhaps there’d been another mix-up.

It wasn’t until his quidditch jersey went missing that Sebastian became aggravated. He began to suspect that one of his roommates was playing a prank on him.

“Have you seen my laundry?” he asked Ominis Gaunt one morning.

Ominis scowled at him. “I don’t see much of anything,” he answered smoothly. Sebastian sighed.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “What I meant was, has any of my clothing wound up with yours?”

“Can’t say it has,” Ominis responded.

“Well, has any of your laundry turned up missing?”

“Can’t say it has.”

Sebastian groaned, but decided to let the matter drop. But one by one, piece by piece, more of his clothing items disappeared; so much so, Sebastian had to make a trip into Hogsmeade to buy more. But whenever he brought the matter up to his friends and roommates, they all shrugged and insisted they hadn’t taken anything.

It was maddening. Sebastian began to wonder if he was losing his mind. 

One day, he decided to wait on the house elf in charge of his laundry. Sebastian lounged impatiently in his room until the unsuspecting elf wandered in. 

“There you are!” Sebastian exclaimed, causing the poor elf to squawk in surprise. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Mister Sallow,” the elf said as it bowed to him. “Pebbles is just here to fetch the laundry.”

“Thank you, Pebbles,” Sebastian said kindly. “But I was wondering if you’d seen some items of mine. I’ve lost quite a few articles of clothing and they always seem to go missing on laundry day.”

Pebbles’ eyes grew wide. The tiny elf shrank backward toward the door in a panic, causing Sebastian to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“Pebbles,” he said as gently as possible. “What do you know?”

“Pebbles can’t say!” the elf squeaked. “Pebbles promised the nice girl. She made him swear.”

“Nice girl?”

“Yes, Mister Sallow. The nice seventh year… also in Slytherin… always kind to Pebbles and always has bubblegum. She swore Pebbles to secrecy.”

Bubblegum. Of course.

Sebastian rocketed himself off the bed and scrambled for the door. “Thank you, Pebbles!” he called over his shoulder as he hustled into the corridor, leaving the poor elf flustered.

Sebastian made a beeline toward the girls’ dormitories, where he knocked on the second door on the right.

“Open up!” he called out. The door swung open and he was met by a scowling Imelda Reyes.

“She’s not here, Sallow,” Imelda huffed. “And if you barge your way in here again, I’m going to hex you all the way to Clagmar.”

Sebastian sighed. “Sorry,” he said as he backed away from the door. “Do you know where she is?”

“Try the library,” Imelda shrugged as she eyed him sharply. “And try doing your laundry for once. You wore that shirt yesterday.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and left for the library.

As soon as he strode between the row of long study tables, he spotted her. His girlfriend, Emilia, sat quietly as she flipped through her Muggle Studies book. And she was wearing a green sweater that appeared to be two sizes too large for her.

Sebastian sat down across from her, the scrape of his chair grating loudly across the wood floor. Emilia winced as her head snapped up.

“Sebastian! Where’ve you been? You missed breakfast.”

“I didn’t have anything to wear,” Sebastian replied simply. He could swear he saw the traces of a smile tugging at the corner of Emilia’s lips.

“Oh?” she asked innocently. “Did the house elves forget to do your laundry?”

“That’s what I was trying to figure out. I had to ask Pebbles.”

Emilia pursed her lips to suppress a smile. Sebastian could see the muscles in her face twitch. “Oh?” she continued. “Is Pebbles the laundry elf?”

“You tell me.”

Emilia cocked her head to the side playfully. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sebastian’s eyes fell pointedly to her chest. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re also not sure how you ended up wearing my sweater.”

“Oh, is this yours?” Emilia asked innocently. She dipped her head to study the fabric. “I had no idea.”

Sebastian gazed at her in exasperation. “Come on, Em,” he sighed. “Fess up.”

Emilia finally flashed a full smile, rendering it impossible for Sebastian to remain cross with her. “Okay,” she laughed. “So maybe I borrowed a few of your shirts and sweaters with Pebbles’ help.”

“A few? Em, I barely have any clothes left.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She was looking far too amused for Sebastian’s liking. Not the least bit remorseful.

“So are you going to give me my clothes back?”

“I will in due time,” Emilia answered casually. “But right now, I need to finish studying.”

Sebastian blinked at her. She loved to get under his skin; not that he minded, but he was also running out of clothing to wear.

“Alright fine,” Sebastian said as he rose to his feet. He leaned across the table to press a kiss to her cheek and smiled innocently at her. “See you at dinner, darling.”

As Emilia returned to her reading, she failed to notice that Sebastian didn’t actually leave the library. Instead, he slipped up the spiral staircase to the second floor, where he peered down at her from the railing overheard.

“Retexo,” he whispered as he pointed his wand at Emilia. A magic, invisible thread connected the tip of his wand to her. He could feel a faint tug, ensuring the spell had worked. Now, he just had to stand back and wait.

He watched Emilia study for another twenty minutes or so. He admired the way her eyes scanned the pages of her book, her lips mumbling the prose quietly to herself. Light from the library windows poured over her frame, her dark brunette hair glimmering with just the right movement of her head.

He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. But ever since that day in the quidditch locker room showers, they’d discovered a new level of affinity that left them more attached than ever.

But for as much as Sebastian loved and cherished Emilia, he’d be damned before he let her off the hook for petty theft.

So when Emilia rose to her feet and gathered her books, Sebastian smirked. He watched as she pushed her chair into the table and turned for the library doors. 

She didn’t notice at first. With each step further from where Sebastian stood with his wand, her sweater began to unravel from the hem upward, pulling and pulling until her midriff was showing. 

Sebastian used his wand to give a sharp tug, straining the emerald thread harder. Emilia was halfway to the door when she finally realized half her sweater was missing. She gasped as she stopped in her tracks to examine herself, a nervous flush creeping over her cheeks. Other students looked on in amusement, a few giggles echoing across the library.

Emilia’s eyes followed the thread across the library and upward until she met Sebastian’s laughing gaze above. He winked at her and flicked his wand. The thread tugged again, revealing even more of Emilia’s torso. 

“Sebastian!” she hissed loudly, drawing more snickers from the students seated nearby.

Sebastian doubled over in silent hysterics as tears of laughter filled his eyes. Hurried whispers rolled over the room, indicating that Madam Scribner was coming.

Emilia frantically fished her wand from her bag. “Diffindo!” she hissed. The long thread severed, leaving it dangling from the tip of Sebastian’s wand. He flicked it casually to disconnect it, the green strand fluttering to the floor as Emilia made a rude gesture with her hand toward him before attempting to storm out.

“Miss Bell!” Scribner’s voice was short and shrill, an indication she was particularly agitated. Emilia heaved a sigh and stopped in her tracks, waiting for the librarian to scold her. “Miss Bell, what is the meaning of this? What happened to your jumper?”

“Sorry, Madam Scribner,” Emilia said with as much sincerity – and dignity – as she could manage. “I guess a loose thread must have snagged on my chair.”

“Loose thread? My dear, there are barely any threads left! You’re showing a dangerous amount of skin and causing quite a distraction. Do cover yourself up and sort out your… wardrobe malfunction immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Emilia shot Sebastian a scathing glare. He chuckled and hurried from the library before Madam Scribner could catch on to his antics. He could see Emilia’s retreating form across the Central Hall. She was heading toward the nearest girls’ bathroom.

Before he could catch up to her, she disappeared inside. Sebastian stood just outside the door, waiting patiently as he leaned against the wall nonchalantly. 

Suddenly, the door swung open and a pair of hands seized the front of his robes, dragging him inside.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian cried out. His eyes widened as he realized Emilia was standing completely topless and bare in front of him. The sweater – or what remained of it – was tossed atop a sink.

“Give me your cloak,” Emilia ordered. 

“What? No! You’ve already nicked enough of my clothing!”

“And you ruined my sweater!”

“Your sweater? Don’t be so dramatic, darling. Just Reparo it and get on with it.”

Emilia shot him a deadpan stare and pointed her wand toward the sweater. “Reparo,” she said blankly. Nothing happened. Sebastian cursed. “It’s beyond repair.”

“Yes, I see that now,” Sebastian sighed.

“So give me your cloak,” Emilia repeated. “Unless you want me parading topless all the way back to the common room.”

Something stirred within Sebastian. He smirked with his arms folded across his chest. 

“And you think I’m just going to hand over another article of clothing, after everything you’ve taken from me?” he mused.

Emilia blinked. “Seb, this is an emergency! Quit playing games.”

“Oh? And what about when I had to make an emergency trip to Gladrag’s because I ran out of shirts to wear?”

“That’s different!”

“The hell it is.” The wheels spun in Sebastian’s head at breakneck speed, hurtling them both toward something much more salacious than some stolen garments. This was too perfect of an opportunity to squander. Of course, he’d ultimately give Emilia his cloak, but she’d have to earn it. After all, it was no secret he liked it when people were indebted to him, even his own girlfriend – especially his own girlfriend.

“You can have my cloak,” he purred. “If you give me something in return.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Emilia fully understood his implications, because she understood Sebastian. She thought how he thought, spoke as he spoke, and behaved as he behaved. Most people found it endearing. Ominis called it alarming.

This was their game; their own intimate way of passing the time; their favorite cat-and-mouse dynamic for keeping the other on their toes. 

“Really, Seb?” Emilia groaned. “Here? In the blasted bathroom of all places?”

“Why not?” Sebastian murmured, reaching to snake his arms around her waist. “After all, you’re already half undressed.”

He leaned in to press a kiss just below her earlobe. Emilia’s resistance waned entirely.

“Fine,” she sniffed, her fists balling the front of Sebastian’s cloak. She tugged him into a forceful kiss, the tattered remains of the sweater forgotten as a familiar ache sprawled between her thighs. Sebastian's cloak crumpled to the tile floor. 

Sebastian smirked into the kiss, one hand drifting from her waist upward to her breast. The chill inside the bathroom went forgotten as his warm palm cupped her, his thumb gently teasing across her nipple. 

“What’d you steal all my clothes for anyway?” Sebastian murmured gently as his eyes scanned her body. 

“Because they smell like you. And I like to be reminded of you,” Emilia answered simply.

“Darling, you see me every day.”

“I know, but I like to think of you even when you’re not around.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’ll give you something to think about for days, weeks even,” he breathed in her ear. “Something much more satisfying than some ratty old sweater.”

He kissed her until she was spineless in his arms, guiding her backward until the cool porcelain sink pressed against her lower back. 

“But I like those sweaters,” Emilia protested. 

“And my uniform shirts? And my favorite scarf?”

“Sharing is caring.”

“And what are you going to share?”

Emilia smirked in response. She rocked onto her tip-toes to kiss him again, her tongue dragging against his bottom lip with deliberation. Though she knew Sebastian wasn’t actually cross with her for stealing half of his wardrobe – he’d give her anything she wanted – she figured it would be fair to provide him with some repayment, especially when the investment would serve them both.

Emilia’s hands found Sebastian’s belt buckle, though her twinkling eyes remained on his. She could undress him with her eyes shut by now – and she certainly had before. The buckle clinked apart and a swoosh of fabric and hungry hands left Sebastian bare below the waist. He was already hard.

The moment Emilia’s hand gripped his erection, Sebastian groaned. His head dipped backward and his eyes fell shut as she stroked him, her soft thumb swiping across his tip. Her hand pumped faster until Sebastian was panting, his abdomen tight with a cresting release.

Hands suddenly spun Emilia around so that she was pinned forward against the sink, her wide eyes peering at her own surprised reflection in the mirror. Her skirt was hiked up and her panties were pulled to the side as Sebastian’s fingers snaked over her folds. He hummed at her wet arousal.

Emilia held her breath, anticipating the intrusion of Sebastian’s cock. Instead, he sank two fingers inside her, his other arm hooked around her waist as his own reflection smirked at hers. 

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmured as he watched her teeth drag against her own bottom lip. She whimpered in response, her walls clenching around his fingers in a silent plea for more friction. Sebastian curled his fingers and pumped his hand.

Emilia moaned as Sebastian’s free hand drifted to her breast, plucking at her nipple as the fingers of his other hand continued their rhythmic pressure. They paused only to press against her clit, sweeping long, fluid swipes until Emilia could feel the muscles tense from her core to her thighs. 

Her white knuckles matched the porcelain as she gripped the sides of the sink, the mounting climax ready to breach its dam. Sebastian’s erection pressed against her ass as he held her close, ready to feel her entire body quiver against his. When it finally began, Emilia’s cry rang across the bathroom while Sebastian’s fingers scraped a searing sensation from her clit. She doubled over the sink, her knees threatening to fail until the shiver subsided.

“Merlin, you look so stunning when you come,” Sebastian croaked. He lined his impatient cock against Emilia’s slick entrance and sank inside before she could catch her breath. “Fucking hell,” he sighed with content.

Emilia’s back arched and her eyelids fluttered shut as she moaned, her walls stretching to welcome Sebastian’s cock. His hips snapped forward until he set his preferred pace, burying himself to the hilt until he retreated to repeat the motion. When his stare searched for Emilia’s in the mirror, he sank his fingers into her open mouth, eliciting an unsuspecting gasp.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you.” It wasn’t an ask. Emilia nodded silently, her obedient eyes locked on his as Sebastian’s slick fingers continued to part her lips. 

He fiddled with the knot in his necktie, his hips still rocking against her until the green fabric was loose in his hands.

"Give me your hands," he ordered, reaching for Emilia's wrists. "You like wearing my clothes, huh?" he said as he tied them behind her back. He thrust hard, drawing a breathy moan from her.

Sebastian groaned at the vision before him; Emilia looking so submissive and seductive, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, her features contorting the closer she reached toward her climax; and there he stood, looming behind her as she whimpered and whined while he ruined her. The mirror and its frame became a portrait; a masterpiece that could only be named Sin Incarnate. 

Sebastian reached for her throat and Emilia swallowed, sending a fleeting pulse across the curve between his thumb and forefinger. Her gaze narrowed as she struggled for composure, her weak legs ready to quit as he plunged into her plush folds.

The vibrations from Emilia’s gurgled moans coursed across Sebastian’s hand until he was grunting with glee. 

“Just like that,” his voice rumbled against her ear. He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and could feel her body respond, her cunt clenching in arousal around his cock. His pistoning hips became erratic, indicating his impending undoing. But as the sounds of the sharp snaps of their union bounced off the tiled walls, Emilia’s eyes lingered on their forms.

“You like watching yourself?” Sebastian observed. “You like seeing how good I fuck you?”

He rolled his hips and drove himself hard through her walls. Emilia’s bottom lip was raw and red, but her teeth continued to gnaw as she inched closer to her edge. Sebastian’s bedroom eyes studied her reflection until he could see the familiar expression creeping across her features. 

“Going to come for me? Go on, then. Let’s both watch you give in. Then I'm going to come in you and you're going to wear me."

His cock speared her until the tip drove into her sensitive spot. Emilia’s mouth fell open and her back arched, a primal cry chorusing across the bathroom as her body obeyed. Sebastian thrust so hard, her feet nearly lifted off the floor, her pulsing walls coaxing his own completion.

His hips pinned Emilia hard against the sink as he spilled inside her, her tired legs struggling to keep her upright as her thighs became slick. Sebastian’s frame slackened when his peak subsided, his chin resting atop her shoulder as they both recovered.

The bathroom returned to its still state, the only sound now the occasional creaking of pipes. 

Sebastian pressed a final kiss to the back of Emilia’s shoulder, his eyes still smirking at her reflection as he loosed his necktie from her wrists.

“Now, about my sweaters… and shirts… and scarf,” he started as he backed away to redress. “You’re going to return them, right?”

Emilia’s reflection pouted at him. “Don’t you think I earned them?”

Sebastian didn’t answer until he was fully clothed, stooping down to pick up Emilia’s skirt and undergarments. When she reached for them, he pulled them away and flashed his teeth.

“Tell you what,” he drawled. “I’ll keep these for now and I’ll give you my cloak. You wear that – and only that – for the rest of the day, and we’ll call it even.”

He winked at her and darted from the bathroom.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Concrete Impressions

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 1.3

Authorial Note: I hope you like it! This is basically the precursor fic to Cradle Me! I am making this an au, this is a little bit on how Quinn and Cookie meet! I will be making a part two to this fic!

TW: Not edited, swearing.

The day Quinn encountered you was the day he knew there was no one else for him. It was a warm autumn day on campus, though there was a significant breezing blowing with a spiteful chill. Your brown hair was tucked away in a neat plait down your back, a brown wide- ribbed sweater overlapping your dark patterned jeans which were rolled up over the top of your sneakers. You were waiting at the coffee cart, behind half-a-dozen people in line for their daily sustenance as well. Quinn watched from a table where he was placed, surrounded by a large group of his friends... well of some them were, other acquaintances, such as the sophomore girl who was trying desperately to giggle her way under his skin formed the majority of the numbers in the group. As you inched closer to the little counter at the front of the cart a blonde man, clearly impatient bumped into you. Quinn watched with wide eyes as you toppled over, books in hand spilling onto the dirty brick footpath.

Quinn had watched the young man who, essentially bumped you from your place in the line, stepped up to the vendor and ordered his drink. It troubled Quinn deeply that this young man had little to no regard for what he had done, or who he had done it too. At this point in time you didn't even know Quinn existed, or that he had singlehandedly decided that he need to know you, know if you could be the one. Because as he watched you part your hair from you face, tucking the unruly strands behind your ears as you pulled yourself and your books up from the ground, brushing the debris off your knees, Quinn knew that he needed to be the prince in your fairytale.

"Quinny! Where are you going!" the blonde girl, previously wrapping herself around his arm, nuzzling into his shoulder whined. This drew some attention from other members of the group, the watched as Quinn peeled the girl from his arm and quickly half walked, half jogged to where you were still trying to fix yourself up.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Quinn crouched down next to you, when you looked up at him, wide caramel eyes and a charismatic smile on your face he swear he almost melted.

"Oh! Yeah.. yes." you puffed out with a small laugh, "Just a bit of a topsy terby morning!"

Quinn was amazed at your optimism, it seemed like you were going to let the little situation upset the rest of your day. "Could I buy you a coffee?"

"Oh! You do not have to do that, I was purely just trying to get a small caffeine hit before my next class." you spoke, slinging your bag onto your shoulder, "Maybe even one of their amazing double fudge brownie cookies."

Quinn's lips tipped up in a small smile, "Don't ya think all of that chocolate is a-"

"Bit sweet?" you cut him off and Quinn nodded, letting out a breathy laugh, "I know. I love it though, especially when they heat it so the inside is all gooey!"

"I take it you like sweet things?" Quinn asked.

"You could say that!" you giggled back at him in response, stepping forward in line to the front, Quinn following beside you as you turned to the barista who was holding a cup and nico pen ready to take your order. "Could I please have.. a dirty chai on almond? Would you like anything?"

Quinn was surprised when she turned and asked if he wanted something, he stumbled out, “I’ll have a flat white.. two shots, two sugars please.”

Quinn smiles to himself airily, ‘she’s as gracious she is courteous.’ After shaking off his daze he spoke, “Didn’t you also want one of those… death by chocolate cookies?”

“Oh yes! Could I please have one of your double chocolate brownie cookies?” you asked, “Could you heat it up too please?”

The barista nodded and turned away to make your coffees and to retrieve the fabled cookie. Standing there Quinn realised he didn’t actually know your name, nor what you were studying. Just that you liked cookies and had a killer sweet tooth.

“So Cookie, do you have a name or am I gonna have to call ya that?” Quinn stated, breaking the ice.

“My name is Y/N, but you can call me Cookie if you would like stranger.” Y/N smiled back, eyes gleaming with humour.

“My name is Quinn.” He corrected. “You mentioned having class soon? Can I ask what you have?”

“Well Quinn.. I have modern history next.” You spoke, quietly thanking the barista as she passed over the two coffees and the box holding chocolate lava-y goodness. Together the both of you gravitated away from the cart, moving back in the direction of where Quinn was originally sitting. The group still crowding the tables.

“With Professor Ryan?” Quinn questioned hopefully, he had modern history next as well, was this his lucky day?

“Yeah! In the Carsledine building!” You took a sip of the steaming beverage in your hand, the other still holding the cookie box to your chest.

”I have MH too! Would you want to sit together in his lecture?” Quinn leaned over and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, exchanging a Quick handshake with a mate of his.

“Sure! I don’t normally sit with anyone but.. I guess things can change.” Y/N smiled, walking alongside with Quinn through the campus courtyard, taking note of the amount of female attention he received.

Quinn let Cookie slide in the door before he did, holding it open for her as she stepped into the expansive lecture hall. He followed her small frame as she nimbly weaved her way through the rows of fold up chairs. Cookie approached the the left side of the lecture hall, the wall was interrupted by a humongous window, offering an extensive view over the rest of the campus. Rain clouds hung low today, dew covered the bare branches of the deciduous trees. Quinn sat down next to her, he admired her gorgeous face as she pulled her iPad out of her bag. Quinn noted the way she meticulously set up her note taking page with her screen pen, placing in all the text boxes and writing headings out. She pulled a keyboard attachment out of her bag, navy coloured too. Being around you Quinn's gaze sharpened and his body longed to know every detail he could, like the fact that navy appeared to be a favoured colour. The glasses that you had delicately slid onto the bridge of your nose were a deep shade of navy blue with gold arms. The scrunchie you were tucking your long shimmering hair into a ponytail with. Your phone case, iPad case and keyboard as well as the colour of the ink she wrote onto the digital page with were all the same blue.

"Do you like sports?" Quinn had one channel of small talk he could always revert back too, and he was damned sure he was going to use it.

"I don't mind sports!" Cookie replied, looking up from the screen she was writing on, "I like skiing, cross country specifically none of that moguls business. I also run too, cross country as well!"

"Are you on the track and field team?" he asked, curious.

"I am! I captain the track team!" Cookie looked over at Quinn again, waving silently to the professor who had walked in. "What about you?"

"I play Ice Hockey." Quinn spoke, he wished to play his cards right. If he did so, maybe he could get her to a game. "I'm projected to draft in the first round of the NHL entry. I fly out to Dallas with my family in about a month and a half for it."

Cookie smiled, a little bewildered, "That is seriously awesome! Congratulations!"

For the first time Quinn didn't get that rolling feeling in his gut after telling someone where he was projected to go. Y/N took it with so much grace, she didn't pester him about it, she didn't instantly try to suck up and seduce him. She just accepted it. Congratulated him and seemed like she genuinely cared.

Holy fuck. Is this what being in love feels like?

[rqsie63]

STORM! - Carlos Sainz Jr.

Carlos remembers his ex Girlfriend's fear of storms, so he simply decides to knock at her door on a scary stormy evening.

🏁: carlos sainz x ex girlfriend! oc (her name is maia☝️😌)

🏁: exes to lovers. angst. very soft sex scene (nothing explicit). i think my english is improving but yeah, still not my first language.

🪻: soooo, first carlos post yasss. honestly i was inspired by another post with the friendly exes trope but i wanted mine to be more like a "okay we should get back together" sort of thing. It's probably the most used plot in this app but honestly I don't care, I wanted to have my own lol. enjoy!

The rain came down in sheets, relentless and loud against the pavement. Carlos stood at Maia's front door, drenched despite the hoodie pulled over his head, fingers curled into a fist just inches from knocking.

He knows he shouldn't be here. Not after what happened.

But the storm was loud —too loud— and he remembered, like muscle memory, how she used to curl into his side during nights like this, asking if he could stay until the thunder passed.

So he knocked.

When Maia opened the door, her eyes widened. She was barefoot, wrapped in a soft sweater. "Carlos?, what—"

"I thought..." He hesitated, suddenly unsure. “You hate storms. I figured you might want… company.”

For a moment, silence. The kind of silence filled with everything unsaid, unresolved. Then she stepped aside.

"You're soaked," she murmured as he passed her, his presence filling the quiet the way it used to. "You didn't have to come."

"I know," he said, voice low. "But I wanted to."

She didn´t ask why, she didn´t need to.

Maia returned from the kitchen with a towel, tossing it gently toward him. "Here. Before you drip all over the floor."

Carlos caught it with a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”

As he dried his hair, she hovered by the edge of the hallway, clearly unsure of what came next. He didn’t blame her. The last time they stood this close, they weren’t exes yet.

"I can take the guest room," he offered, almost too quickly. "If it´s okay."

She hesitated. And then, quietly, “There’s a couch in my room that you can take.”

His hands froze, gaze lifted to meet hers. She wasn’t looking at him, not directly. Her eyes were fixed somewhere near the floor, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was afraid of what she’d just said.

"It´s just... I don´t like sleeping alone when it's like this," she added, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know that."

Carlos swallowed. A hundred words burned the tip of his tongue, but he just nodded.

“Okay.”

Maia turned around, not waiting for him to follow—but he did, his heart beating too loud, matching the rhythm of the storm outside. The hallway felt too short, the space between them too charged.

Her room looked the same. Books stacked unevenly on the nightstand, the lamp casting a warm amber glow, and yes—a small couch tucked into the corner, still covered in the same old throw blanket he remembered from last year.

She pointed to it wordlessly, and he gave her a small, grateful smile as he sat.

But then she stayed standing. Just watching him.

He tilted his head. “What?”

“You’re really just going to sleep on the couch?”

He blinked, startled. “Well, yeah. That was the plan.”

Maia laughed, a nervous, quiet thing. “Right. Of course.”

She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, back turned to him. A beat passed.

Then another. And then, barely audible over the rain: “Good night, Carlos.”

He stared at the ceiling. “Good night, Maia.”

But neither of them slept.

The storm refused to settle. Wind howled outside the windows, and the rain tapped against the glass like fingers desperate to be let in. Carlos stared into the darkness, one arm tucked behind his head, the other curled tightly against his chest like it could somehow hold back everything he wanted to say.

Maia shifted in bed. He could hear it—the rustle of blankets, the sigh she tried to muffle. Then...

A bolt of thunder split the sky, loud enough to make the walls tremble. Carlos sat up instinctively.

So did Maia.

“Okay, no,” she whispered, kicking off the blankets. “This is ridiculous. I’m not sleeping like this.”

He blinked as she padded out of the room, her silhouette vanishing down the hall. A few minutes later, she returned, holding two mugs. Her shoulders were tense, her steps quiet. She handed him one without a word and crawled back into bed.

“Chamomile?” he guessed, sniffing the steam.

She nods, knowing the tea won't help but takes a sip anyway.

Carlos let the silence settle again. Outside, thunder growled, softer now but still menacing. He glanced over at her, catching the way her eyes kept darting toward the couch. Then to him. Then to the bed.

She bit her lip. “Just get in bed, Carlos.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” she said, a little too casually. “There’s a pillow between us. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos hesitated, then set the mug on the nightstand and moved slowly toward the bed. He climbed in, careful to stay on his side of the pillow barrier, heart pounding louder than the storm.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Just breathing in sync, lying inches apart like they hadn’t done this a hundred times before.

Then Maia broke the silence. “You’re quiet.”

He swallowed. “What do you want me to say?”

She hummed. “I don’t know. Maybe why you left me?”

Carlos closed his eyes. There it was. No warning. No mercy. Just the question that had haunted him since the night he walked out.

“Maybe it´s a dumb answer but,” He exhaled. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked, voice calm. But her fingers were curled around the edge of the blanket too tight.

“From me,” he admitted. “From this life. The chaos. The distance. The media. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go.”

She let out a breath—half-laugh, half-sigh. “You know what the worst part is?”

He turned his head, barely able to look at her. “What?”

“You never asked me if I wanted to be protected.”

The thunder rolled again. Neither flinched this time.

Carlos looked up at the ceiling, guilt pressing heavy on his chest. “I’ve felt like an idiot every day since.”

Maia smiled, just barely. “Good. You should.”

At some point in the night, Maia drifted off.

Maybe it was the tea. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion. Or maybe—most likely—it was the comforting presence of the man who used to be her entire world lying just inches away.

She didn’t remember the moment sleep claimed her. All she knew was that when she opened her eyes, the storm had passed.

Soft light peeked through the curtains, casting a pale morning glow across the room. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, and everything felt... warmer.

Maia blinked, disoriented for a moment, and then she felt it—an arm draped over her waist, a solid warmth behind her, a slow, steady rise and fall of breathing pressed against her back. The pillow was gone.

She froze, heart thudding, then slowly turned over. Carlos.

Still asleep, his brows slightly furrowed, lips parted in a soft breath. He looked peaceful like this, defenseless in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. His hand was curled loosely near her hip, like it had been there all night. Like he belonged there.

Her breath caught.

She couldn’t stop looking at him. At the messy hair, the faint stubble on his jaw, the warmth of his body next to hers. It was overwhelming—how right it felt. So she did what any emotionally confused person would do.

She pretended to be asleep.

She shut her eyes just in time to hear his breathing shift. A small groan. A soft stretch. Then silence.

Then..., “I know you’re not sleeping.”

Her eyes snapped open on instinct, and Carlos was already watching her, a lazy smirk spreading across his face. “You were staring at me,” he said, voice thick with sleep.

“I was not.”

“You were,” he teased, propping himself up on one elbow. “It was either that or you developed x-ray vision in your sleep.”

Maia covered her face with both hands, groaning into them. “This is so embarrassing.”

Carlos chuckled, warm and low. “You think you´re embarrassed? I’m the one who threw away the best thing I ever had and ended up crawling back during a thunderstorm.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, trying not to smile. “You didn’t crawl.”

“I emotionally crawled.”

She burst into soft giggles, and he grinned like he’d just won something. And in a way, he had.

They stayed like that for a while—facing each other, tangled in quiet and warmth, the morning creeping in too gently for either of them to move.

Carlos brushed a piece of hair from her face, his fingers lingering a second too long. “You look the same,” he said softly. “And totally different.”

Maia raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or a riddle?”

He grinned. “Little bit of both.”

She laughed under her breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Then she rolled onto her back, arms tucked under her head, voice casual—too casual.

“So,” she started, “do you think the storm was, like… a sign?”

He shifted closer, intrigued. “A sign?”

“Yeah. Like, fate pushing us back together.” She turned her head to look at him. “Or maybe we just needed one night to sleep together again, get it out of our systems, and never see each other ever again.”

Carlos blinked. “Wow. Two very different interpretations.”

She shrugged, lips twitching with a smirk. “Just weighing my options.”

He looked at her for a long beat, unreadable. Then, voice low and quiet, “It’s morning, so I don’t know about the one night part.”

Maia’s breath hitched.

He hadn’t moved closer, but somehow he felt closer. The air between them tightened. She could feel the heat of him, the pull, the want.

She swallowed. “That sounds dangerously like you want this to be more than just one night.”

Carlos’s eyes dropped to her mouth. Then slowly back to her eyes.

“Maybe I do.” The room went still.

Maia didn’t move. Neither did he. They were centimeters apart now, her heart in her throat, her breath shaky.

Carlos leaned in, breath warm against her lips, eyes flicking between hers and her mouth.

Maia didn’t move. She didn’t want to move.

And just as their lips were about to meet—boom. A low, distant rumble rolled through the sky, followed by the sudden patter patter patter of heavy rain returning against the windows.

They both flinched just slightly, like the storm had reached between them and tapped them on the shoulder.

Maia blinked, her forehead still pressed against his. A shaky laugh escaped her lips as she pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Well,” she whispered, “that’s our cue, apparently.”

Carlos let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Apparently.”

A beat passed, and Maia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to recover from the moment. The storm outside was steady now—less aggressive, more like a reminder that it was still there.

She turned toward him, softer now. “When do you have to go back?”

His brow furrowed slightly, like the question pulled him out of the warmth of her bed and back into reality. “Tomorrow. My flight’s in the afternoon.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “So you’re still just Carlos for one more day.”

He smiled at that—quiet, grateful. “I guess I am.”

Maia hesitated, then sat up a little, the blanket falling from her shoulders.

“Then stay,” she said. “Just a little longer.”

Carlos stared at her. Like maybe this was the real turning point. The invitation that wasn’t about tea or thunder or couches. This one was about them.

“Okay,” he said, no hesitation this time. “I’ll stay."

Maia padded into the kitchen first, barefoot and still wrapped in the oversized sweater she'd slept in. Carlos followed a few minutes later, his hair a mess, wearing one of her old hoodies—one she forgot she still had, and that looked unfairly good on him.

“I didn’t peg you as a hoodie thief,” she teased as he rubbed his eyes.

Carlos gave a half-smile. “You left it on my side of the closet. That’s practically a dare.”

Maia rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

The rain still whispered against the windows, the whole apartment wrapped in that soft gray light only stormy mornings could offer. She set a pan on the stove, pulling out eggs and bread while Carlos leaned against the counter, arms crossed, just watching her.

She could feel it—his gaze. Hot. Focused. Like it physically pressed against her back.

“You’re staring,” she said without turning around.

“You’re cooking,” he replied, casually. “It’s hot.”

Maia turned then, raising an eyebrow. “You think me doing pancakes is sexy?”

Carlos smirked. “It’s the whole vibe. Sweater. Barefoot. Looking like a storm woke you up. Dangerous territory.”

She tried to ignore the warmth rising in her cheeks, turning back to the stove with a shake of her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He stepped closer, just enough for her to feel him behind her.

“But you missed me,” he said low, near her ear.

Maia froze. Her fingers tightened on the spatula.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she flipped the pancake with unnecessary precision.

Then—softly—“You have no idea.”

Carlos didn’t move. Just stood there, close enough that his chest nearly brushed her back.

Carlos reached past her, hand brushing her waist as he grabbed a plate from the cabinet.

It was a simple touch. Light. Casual.

But Maia’s body stiffened.

He noticed.

She didn’t move away, not exactly—but she went still. Her hand faltered over the spatula, and her breath caught in a way that wasn’t playful anymore.

Carlos stepped back a little, brows drawing together. Then, a hypothesis forms in his head.

“Maia?” he asked softly. “Are you… seeing someone else?”

She turned sharply, blinking at him like the question had pulled her out of a dream. “What?”

“I just—” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling. “You went quiet. And I thought maybe… there’s someone. And that this is just…”

Maia shook her head, eyes wide. “No. God, no, Carlos.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, voice lower now, almost pleading. “Because I can feel something here. And I think you feel it too. But you’re holding back.”

She looked down, her voice tight. “Because I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you,” she said, the words raw and too fast. “Of how badly I still love you.”

That silenced him.

Maia let out a breath, trembling just slightly. “You left once. And I understood why, I did. But it still broke me. And now you’re here and everything feels like before and I—I don’t know how to be the kind of person who fits in your life. I’m not built for that.”

Carlos’s heart ached at the sight of her—the way she tried to sound steady but couldn’t quite pull it off. He stepped closer again, slower this time.

“You were never a burden mi vida,” he said gently. “You were the one part of my life that felt real.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy now. “Then why did you leave?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor.” His voice cracked. “And it was the worst mistake of my life.”

The kitchen fell into silence after his confession.

Carlos stood there, open and raw in front of her, and for a moment, Maia couldn’t breathe.

He looked like he was waiting for her to walk away.

But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance, slowly. Her fingers brushed his—hesitant at first—then threaded through them like they used to.

Carlos’s breath hitched. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice almost trembling. “Every single day.”

He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissed her knuckles like she was made of something sacred. “I never stopped loving you.”

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “Then show me.”

It wasn’t a demand. It was a plea.

A quiet invitation to close the space the world had opened between them. And so he did.

He kissed her gently at first, like he was afraid she’d disappear. Like he didn’t quite believe he had permission. Her hands found his jaw, pulling him closer, anchoring him in the moment. And when she kissed him back—truly, finally—it wasn’t desperate. It was home.

Somehow, they made it back to her bedroom, their bodies already learning each other again. No rush. Just the quiet unfolding of something that had been buried under silence and hurt for far too long.

He undressed her like she was a secret he’d never wanted to forget. She touched him like she was trying to remember him right this time.

There was no rush in it—just soft gasps, reverent hands, whispered names like prayers.

When he was inside her, everything stilled.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. It was real. It was Carlos and Maia, stripped of titles and fears, holding onto each other in the dark.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“I know,” she breathed, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “You always did.”

They moved together slowly, like the world outside didn’t matter anymore. Like the rain could fall forever and they’d still be wrapped in this moment, in each other.

And when it was over, when their breaths calmed and the storm settled once again, he pulled her into his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Stay,” she whispered sleepily, her fingers tracing circles on his skin.

Carlos held her tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

© rqsie63 - 13/04/2025.

[asteiioss]

The One With The Proposal

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), slight BDSM (use of cuffs), delayed orgasm, P in V sex, unprotected sex (people pls be safe), creampie, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Well... Okay. There's a few things you need to know about this piece of work you're about to read. This is actually a part of my series that I'm writing on Wattpad. I will put the link below in case you want to read the whole thing. It's not finished, I'm still writing it. This chapter, however, can be a standalone and can be viewed as a one-shot, so I decided to post it here, too. I wish you an enjoyable reading. Oh, and this is not read through, so if you find some mistakes, pretend that you didn't.

Wattpad acc link: here

Spencer Reid. A man known for several things. His knowledge. A brilliant man, whom the FBI owes many thanks. Uncountable cases that he helped solve that would probably stay unsolved without him. His blabbering. He had a whole paragraph ready to shout out on anything you say. The sky? Fun fact... The book you're looking at? Fun fact, the author actually... A specific person who's dead or alive or never surfaced for something they did? Fun fact about them...

You will never see him wear anything outside of professional clothes. Comfortable professional clothes. Sweaters, cardigans. He sometimes reminds me of older women who wrap themselves in their cardigans. You will never hear him swear. Not in public, anyway. The most he said once was goddamn it. The entire team was left in shock. Penelope was even scared of him that day.

He will stutter in conversations and situations that make him even slightly uncomfortable. He has a germ thing. He never shakes hands or hugs with random people. He makes contact with his friends, me, and some close people like his mother, Diane.

Now put all that into an image and try to picture that man. A shy, uncomfortable, boyish man. Stuck reading books when he has free time. No, no. He cancels plans to stay indoors and read books. Even re-read them.

That same man proposed to me half an hour ago. It was small, intimate, and sentimental. We walked by the restaurant where we confessed we loved each other. He let my hand go and I took a few steps ahead. When I turned back, he was down on one knee and held a small box in his hands.

I said yes.

I said yes more than once.

He was the sweetest man. He was mine. I loved to be loved by him. Delicate, heartwarming, caring and sweet. The man I just described above.

That same man was driving us home at the moment, his dick hard, bulging in his pants, one hand or the wheel, the other deep in my cunt while curving his knuckles at a new angle as he fucked me.

Every person has two sides.

And boy, oh boy, did I love his other side.

Everything anyone knew about Spencer, they would say he would be a sweet, whiney, submissive man during intimacy. I beg to differ.

His fingers twirling inside me, I huff as I refuse to moan just yet. I hated the way he could make me fold so, so easily. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My mouth is open and I can't hold in pleads from him. His fingers are long. I love his fingers. But his cock is bigger.

He pulls into our parking space and he removes his hand from under my dress. He walks out and comes around to open my door. I begin to come out when he stops me, picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I yelp, feeling almost powerless. He slams the door and locks the car and continues to carry me up almost three flights of stairs. The apartment door flies open before we go in. He closes it with his leg and heads directly to our bedroom.

I can't help but blush. I felt like a tiny girl. How disgusting that the tiny girl imagined all the things he would do to her in a few moments. He slides me down and steps back to look at me. His eyes scan me, from the smallest hair on the top of my head all the way down to my toes. There's a devilish desire in his eyes, his mouth parted ever so slightly. His eyes come back to mine and he, almost growling, says, "I kneeled for you, now go ahead and kneel for me."

Tingles run down my entire body. I don't hesitate to obligate his request. Not a request. He demanded. And I wasn't going to defy this. I wasn't going to defy him. Not breaking eye contact, I slide down on my knees, perfectly aligned with his belt. I look ahead, seeing him painfully hard in his pants. I slide my hands up his legs and start undoing his pants. Every clank makes me tingle between my legs.

There was a specific time when a powerful, strong and independent woman only wants, no, only needs to be told what to do. I raised myself from nothing. No one helped me. I could only thank myself for everything I have accomplished in my life. I would listen to no man. No man had the power over me. No man could take nothing from me. Except him. He had all of me wrapped around his little finger.

And I didn't mind.

Being submissive to someone means so much more then people think. It means trust. It means love. Truth be told, not every submissive person tends to be like that in everyday life. Don't get me wrong, I know what comes to mind when you think of someone like that. Porn taught us so wrongly. And this? This was so much more intimate then just porn. This was desire, lust, and pure neediness.

After undoing his belt, I pulled down his pants, tugging his underwear to, removing them to. I would skip everything just to feel him. Being released from his clothes was hitting him sweetly as he took a sharp breath when my eyes fell to his dick.

I look up, almost lustful, maybe waiting for him to tell me to touch him, maybe even to beg me, a whole 180 to what I just described myself as. His eyes were dark and watching me from a high. He simply smirked, almost reading my mind and what was going through it.

"Go on," he half whispered, voice deep just like the darkness around us, "be the slut the outside world has no idea you are."

And that was all it took. My hand takes his base before I stick out my tongue and slide it up his entire length. There was a lot of length. He inhales, pushing a groan down his throat at the first touch I plant on him.

This was going to be a long night.

The kiss I leave at his tip as I start stroking him with my hand sends his head falling back. The motion pushes his curls off of his forehead. I loved when his hair fell on his face. It made him look messy. It made him look more flustered. And the image of him like that made me throb between my legs.

After enough slow-play, I stick out my tongue and take him in my mouth, slowly, reaching as far as I could before I feel him touch my throat. He feels he reached far and he groans. The funny thing is I had taken only half of him. He looks down again, his hairs flying back to his face. His fingers twist around in my hair and tug slightly, almost like he was checking the grip he had on my head.

But I soon found out it wasn't the grip why I thought he wanted it. He held my head in place as he started to rock back and forth. He was using me. Using my mouth to be precise. And he started fucking it. At first it was slow, almost shallow thrusts, reaching where he first did. But as time passed, he became more fierce. He started going deeper, hitting the back of my throat with more force making me gag. My eyes started to water as I had no control over anything. His hand held my head in place as he now almost pounded into my mouth.

As he continued, I could feel him twitch on the top of my mouth. And so did I. I felt my panties dampen with every second that passed. I was horny because my boyfriend, my fiancé, was fucking my throat like it was just something for him to use.

Muffled moans and occasional groans escaped his mouth. He was about to finish. I could easily tell by the increased speed of his thrusts and their force. Finally, he pushed himself almost the whole way, deep into my throat and let himself release there. I gagged pretty hard, trying to keep him down and not throw out his cum.

He pulled himself out and let go of his grip on my hair. His hand slid from behind to my chin and he lifted my face up. He was taking deep and long breaths, his chest falling and rising every time. His eyes scanned me, a fucked mouth, watery eyes and bright red cheeks. Must have been quite a sight.

"Swallow, baby." he said and left his mouth slightly opened, watching as the small bulb went down my throat and he smiled in satisfaction. "Good girl. Your turn."

He bent down and picked me up to carry me to the bed. Back facing the mattress, he climbed on top and roughly kissed me. I loved when he did that. After what I just did, he didn't hesitate to kiss me. He didn't get disgusted to do so. His fingers hooked around the hem of my dress and he pulled it off in one quick motion. I was left in my bra and panties that were already soaking wet. Every time he saw me like that, dressed but not dressed, I'd get shy.

I never liked my body. And yet he worshipped it.

"God, you're so gorgeous." he hovered over me, his eyes trailing over every inch of my body. I shivered from his words that sounded like a prayer. It was half whispers. Like he was afraid that if someone heard what he had, it would be stolen from him.

His lips come down and start kissing my neck, my weak spot. Just the warmth of his kiss makes me moan, eager for more as I buck my hips up towards him. I feel that I caress his cock against my thigh, and as soon as he feels it, he pushes my hips down with his hands.

"Needy, are we?" he chuckles against my skin as he now slowly moves lower and leaves a trail of kisses at my collarbone.

"I hate when you do this." I whine, my fingers roaming through his hair.

"You hate when I kiss you?" he says between kisses, one on my shoulder, one at the base of my neck, one directly in between my breasts.

"No, I-" my words get interrupted when I moan. I feel him smile when he hears me. "I hate when you make me wait. You tease. Every time." I take a deep breath in between every sentence to take in his kisses. As much as I did hate the delay of the actual sex, I loved feeling him everywhere. I didn't know what I wanted more.

He continues kissing, his lips reaching my stomach and he stops. I look down to see him slightly smirking as he is settled just between my legs. I feel shivers. He lets go of my hips and slowly pulls down my panties, sliding his fingers down along my legs in the process. He is continuing to tease me with every touch he leaves on my body.

When I finally think that he is going to stick his tongue at my cunt, I am yet again met with disappointment. He comes over me and trails his hands, slowly, around my back as he keeps looking me in the eyes to catch every whiney face I make as I plead him to fuck me already using no words. But he knows. Oh, he knows that's what I'm asking of him.

He unhooks my bra and I am completely naked. His shirt comes off as he makes us even. Again, I hope that he will now go down. It doesn't have to be his mouth, I'll be happy if he would just stick his fucking fingers into my pussy and rummage through it. But, no. He bends down and kisses my breasts, moving from one to the other. Kissing it, sucking on the nipples, squeezing them with his hands.

If he was kissing and/or sucking the right he would be squeezing the left. There was no space left for me to catch a breath. Then, he bit down on one, just enough to make me squeal. He chuckled with my tit in his mouth. I had enough. I gripped his hair and pulled him up to my face.

"What do you fucking want from me?" I say with a whiney voice. I sounded desperate. I hated it. I loved it, too.

His face had a drunk smile across it. He was enjoying this. My torture was satisfaction for him. Fucking great. "I want you to beg." he said through a whisper. His head was tilted back as I was pulling his hair.

I hated to beg him. Especially to do what I wanted. I knew he knows what I want, but he loves when he makes me break and I have nothing left but to fucking beg him to do the most unholy things to me.

I roll my eyes. "No." I simply say.

He smirks and bucks his hips so his dick slides over my dripping cunt. My entire body arches and he smiles again. "Beg, my love. Use that mouth for something else then a place for me to dump my cum."

That mother fucker. "You assh-" he bucks his hips again and breaks me mid-sentence. I growl at him.

"I don't think that's how begging works. C'mon. Beg me to fuck you. I know you want to."

It was weird hearing him swear. Not just swear, but use vulgar words in general. I used them everyday. It was like saying 'hi' to someone. But Spencer? Noup.

I gave up. I close my eyes and just make peace with my fate. "Please, Spencer."

He bends down and kisses my lips. "You have to be specific, my love. What do you want from me?"

I'm boiling at this point. Do I have a choice? If I want to be fucked, not really. "I want you to fuck me, please me, make me cum. I'm fucking tired of being teased." I practically cry out the last part.

He smirks and I let go of my grip on his hair. He doesn't move, he is still looking me directly in the eyes as he slides one hand down and caresses my inner thigh. He goes over my cunt with his entire hand and I loudly gasp. He watches, enjoys the reactions he gets as he touches me. He brings his hand up and licks his two fingers and then slides them down again.

Baby, you don't need no more moisture, I'm wet enough.

His hand finally connects to my core and he starts making circles around my clit. My body erupts. I no longer have control over my reactions. My eyebrows furrow, my mouth is wide open and it's letting out moans, whines, sounds I didn't even know I could make. And he simply watches. From time to time he would bend down and kiss my neck, maybe even bite down on it, making me buck my entire body up.

"God, you're so fucking wet." he says and starts rubbing up and down my entrance. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl."

I'm melting. Melting into his sinister hands that are touching me in the most horrid ways. And I wouldn't stop him even in a million fucking years.

He slides the fingers in, gently, slowly, caringly. I let out a loud moan, slapping my mouth after I do. Just as I did, his other hand takes my wrist and pulls it off. Holding it, he collects my other hand and pins both of them above my head. "Why would you do that?" he asks. But I don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. "You sound so beautiful when you moan for me. You sound so pretty."

His knuckles are now buried deep inside my pussy and he starts to pump them in and out. When he slides them back in, his thumb hits my clit and he curls his fingers inside just enough to hit that little spot. Every movement he made was followed by that wet sound. I just knew his fingers were drowning in my arousal, and I just knew he was so eager to put his cock inside there too.

He kisses my jaw, my neck, my cheeks. He is enjoying this. Pleasuring someone you truly love is pleasure to you as well. His other hand in on my thigh, pulling it away so he has better access and can slide in deeper then he usually could. In between my own sounds, I can hear him groan whenever I jerk my hips upward and slightly stoke him against my leg.

I want more. Now, I'm just desperate because I don't want to finish now. I want to cum over his cock while he is buried all the way inside. I want him to see that little blub in my stomach appear and disappear as he fucks me.

Like on cue, as if he heard me, he pulls his hand away and climbs the bed again. Pushing my legs fully apart, he aligns himself at my entrance. He pushes, but purposefully jerks himself up so he slides against my clit. I see him place himself on my abdomen as if he is looking how far he goes when he's inside.

"Look at how deep I can bury myself in you, love." he admires and glides his fingers over my skin. He pulls back and leans over to the drawer next to our bed. For a moment he rummages through it. "Shit."

I look over, trying to figure out what was going on. "What is it?"

He pauses and looks at me. "We don't have any condoms."

Well shit.

But I put on my big girl face. "And?"

He looks slightly surprised by my reaction. "No protection?"

I shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?" I smirk, moving myself lower on the bed and connecting myself with him. He really was hard.

He says nothing and just enters. He pushes in with quite a bit of force. I let out a quiet scream at his motion. I still needed time to adjust to his length. But he didn't care. He was already in full force, starting to pick up the pace of his thrusts. His hands go down and wrap around my hips and he uses them to pull me on himself as he continues to pound me.

The room is filled with my whines and moans, the sounds of our hips connecting and slamming against each other, and his groans. I love when he groans. I know he feels good. I make him feel good.

"You're so tight. It's so warm inside." he says through rough groans.

His fingers are diving inside the skin of my hips. I feel pain as he squeezes them. I push the feeling away, I even don't have to. The feeling of his dick hitting my deepest point is strong enough to push it away almost instantly.

The repetitive slamming into me lures my finish to approach. It's forming in my gut and I feel it slowly coming as he continues fucking me mercilessly, rough and fast thrusts.

"I'm gonna cum- Oh, God, Spence." I saw, although I'm not sure how I managed to.

Just as I said that, I felt my climax get at its highest point, and I was about to finish-

He pulls out.

What the fuck?!

"Wha- what are you doing?" I stutter, the high still in the air but it's fading away.

He looks down and has a wicked smile on his face. His cheeks are deep red and his hair is damp from his sweat. "I'm not done with you. Turn around."

I'm mad. Furious. I want to defy him so badly, I want to say 'no', maybe even flip him off. But I want to finish. I was just about to. So I do as I'm told. I prompt myself up and turn around and stand on all fours on the bed. Might I add that this is my favorite position.

I expect him to align himself again and continue to thrust like he did, but he gets off the bed and walks over to the corner of the room. The corner where he keeps his bag for work. I hear a clank before he walks back behind me. He places his hand on my upper back and slightly pushes, indicating for me to lower myself even more. My face and chest lay on the mattress. My ass is now the only thing in the air.

This position gives him more access. I am ready for it to hurt before I can adjust myself to his length again at this angle. Yet again, I don't get what I'm expecting. He takes my wrist and places it behind my back, then the other and connects it with my other one. I hear that clank again. He takes one of my wrists again and puts the metal around it.

It's his fucking cuffs.

He puts his cuffs on and thugs on the chain between them to pull my arms back. He pulls so much that I have to lift myself slightly off the bed. I tremble. Out of excitement. Our of slight fear. Out of horniness, simply.

I feel him bend down and kiss my back. He knows I love that. It feels very intimate to me. He kisses down my spine and then slaps my ass. I yelp, not just by the sudden contact, but also because he slapped it pretty hardly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but it will definitely go red in a few seconds.

"You ready?"

There are certain points in our sex life when he asks, or even simply warns to hold on tight to anything. Since I was obviously restrained, he's asking. That is enough to know this was going to be really good.

"Yeah." I whisper, my face buried back into our bed.

"You know I love you, right?" he whispers again and pushes his tip into my cunt.

My breath trembles since I was still sensitive from the high I missed a few minutes ago. "I know."

"Good. Because for the next few minutes it might not look like I do."

He didn't give me time to respond. He slammed himself inside, making me scream out. This was enough for the neighbors to hear. He started thrusting. I still wasn't adjusted to this position, and his cock was hitting from a new angle that allowed much better access. I felt pain. But, God, was it good. My eyes started watering from the pain as I couldn't take it. I prayed that my pussy would stretch just slightly so I could take him a bit easier.

After a short while, I did. The slight pain was still there. It couldn't really go away from the force he was driving himself in. And then it happened. He slapped my ass again. It was a strong slap. His hand was big enough to cover my entire cheek. I yelp at the sudden pain.

As he continues to thrust, I feel him occasionally twitch. That can mean only one thing. He is about to cum again. Just when I realize that, he speeds up. He pulls on the cuffs and makes me get up from the bed. He's pulling hard enough to hold me in the air.

He hits again, going back to squeeze after. I feel the slight burn of his slaps. Another one connects to my skin and with it I feel that high again. I don't want it to escape again, so I bend slightly so he feels me letting him slide even deeper.

Spencer quickly realizes what I'm trying to tell him, but there's not much left before I feel him hammer himself once, then again, just as I feel my climax release. I scream out, and I feel him empty himself inside.

It takes him a few seconds to calm down before he lets me fall down on the bed again. I'm a fucking mess. He takes off the cuffs and places my hands on my sides before he bends down and removes my hair from the back of my neck and kisses in that spot.

"My perfect girl." he cooed. "You're so fucking special."

I breathe deeply. "Well..." I begin as he lays down next to me. "That was fun." I feel his cum drip down out of my cunt.

He chortles. "That's one way to put it."

I was about to marry this man. I loved every inch of him. Every version there was of him. There was nothing that could take that away from me.

[prodagustd]

the road not taken | myg

part one: back home

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

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Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all. 

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said. 

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad. 

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much. 

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again. 

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again. 

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent. 

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house. 

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.” 

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but  laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands. 

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little.  “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes. 

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked. 

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.” 

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy. 

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee  “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows. 

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine. 

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you. 

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details. 

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived. 

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you. 

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?” 

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why are you here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse. 

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen. 

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. 

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him. 

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference. 

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you. 

“So?” He asked, persistent as always. 

“So what?” You played dumb. 

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up. 

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking. 

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.” 

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more. 

“The black sheep?” He repeated. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you.  “You’re not giving me a lot of context.” 

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you. 

 “Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie. 

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car. 

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options. 

 “Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.” 

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am” 

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth? 

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?” 

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him. 

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly. 

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he was going to agree with you. 

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.” 

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy. 

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes. 

He laughed. “Boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl. 

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell you are doing right now with my car.” 

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained 

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?” 

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.” 

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what. 

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing. 

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.” 

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back. 

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.” 

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong. 

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different. 

 “C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.” 

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you. 

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood. 

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.” 

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?”  You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well. 

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.”  He leaned on your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments about her neighbor’s daughter, about how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.” 

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool. 

“And since when do you care about what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to die and born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again? That woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body.”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right. 

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.” 

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured. 

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.” 

Believing Yoongi surely was not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it came to believing in yourself it was a whole different thing. 

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving away from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously. 

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed. 

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.” 

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay. 

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words were sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.” 

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed.  “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes. 

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes  “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.” 

You could hardly hide the smile on your face, you had to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it. 

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart. 

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl. 

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi. 

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself. 

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home. 

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either. 

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him. 

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal. 

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when your best friend, Emma, finally got a girlfriend last summer, then it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years. 

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight. 

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.  

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.  

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around. 

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy. 

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather. 

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm. 

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed. 

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.” 

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.” 

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first. 

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had. 

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned. 

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.” 

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was. 

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking. 

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could. 

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be. 

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2. 

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas” 

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best. 

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were. 

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you. 

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell. 

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet. 

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little. 

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.” 

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.” 

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.” 

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap. 

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!” 

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?” 

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room? 

“Mom, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sure I told you!” 

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in. 

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today. 

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.” 

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it. 

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended. 

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie. 

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked. 

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?” 

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.” 

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.” 

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused. 

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened. 

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work. 

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right. 

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls. 

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?” 

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.  

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered. 

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours. 

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat. 

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer. 

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback? 

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?” 

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied. 

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?” 

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work,  you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place. 

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do. 

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words. 

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved. 

 “We are clear.” You confirmed. 

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach. 

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.” 

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened. 

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were. 

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying. 

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded. 

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.” 

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth. 

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away. 

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long. 

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months. 

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now. 

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.  

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist. 

@kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopefulchick @heroinanne

[cat-crowned-8]

bc y'all def asked, here's my top fic recs

marauders edition

(organized from shortest to longest)

forget-me-not - rxgulus

my summary: James gets hit with an amnesia spell, and basically only remembers his boyfriend regulus. regulus is not in fact his boyfriend.

wordcount: 13,325

james is WHIPPED, basically all fluff, very cutesy

a bee for the honey - rxgulus

my summary: James finds out regulus is a honey badger animagus and brings him little gifts of honey and sweets

wordcount: 20,670

my summary is hesitant bc I haven't read in a while, planning on doing so soon so I'll be back to change it if anything is different. I know I thought it was rlly cute tho. James is a simp

The Barista, the Burglar, and the Sofa - orphan_account

my summary: struggling barista Remus comes home to find sirius (a stranger) in his flat, who continues to break in to furnish his home

wordcount: 21,344

sirius basically sugar daddies his way into remus' life

nothing happens (series) - jaywalkers

my summary: childhood friends James ang reg form a very codependent and minorly toxic friendship that will begin to cross boundaries

wordcount (so far): 43,795

i'm actually obsessed with these characterizations, James is kind of a douche sometimes but their devotion to each other! anticipating the next installment

the coffee shop au - third_crow

my summary: sirius w Harry come into remus' coffee house and they both continue to pine endlessly

wordcount: 54,626

haven't read in like a year but I remember absolutely adoring it

Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule - courfee

my summary: 10 things I hate about you inspired, sirius asks James to "fake" date regulus so Sirius and remus can get around a curse walburga placed on them. reg was unaware any of it was fake

wordcount: 91,325

literally just reread, quite frankly think that the angst could've been drawn out more, James frustrated me a lot but he's trying

whatever our souls are made of - damagecontrol, solmussa

my summary: hanahaki disease, a no Voldemort au, reg comes VERY close to death

wordcount: 157,821

THIS ONE IF YOU ARE GOING TO READ ANY OF THESE LET IT BE THIS ONE. I absolutely adore this, and its probably my favorite hanahaki fic of all time. its literally the reason I'm making this post, people need to talk about it more

The Long Game - lackadaisical_lizard

my summary: in high school, jock James and artsy regulus work on a project together and bond

wordcount: 250,008

literally THE muggle high school au, James becomes regulus' muse its adorable

Kill Your Darlings - MesserMoon

my summary: regulus follows sirius to play hockey and they heal (yes it's jegulus), features deaf remus

wordcount: 303,706

this was my first true introduction to rosekiller, and its what made me fall in love with them. the wolfstar was so sweet, but honestly I remember rosekiller the most from it

Sweater Weather (+ sequel) - lumosinlove

my summary: PT Remus and NHL captain Sirius fall in love, has a whole cast of OC's that are super cute

wordcount: 423,079

one of the first non-magical wolfstars I ever read, the ensemble really add so much to it

[samcrosfaith]

COSTUME CHOICE

Soft!Happy Lowman x random fem!oc because I suck at writing character x reader.

a/n; please feel free to leave requests in my ask box for Halloween and Christmas One Shots. Happy and Jax only please because I'm not good at writing the other characters lol. If you have a specific wish/look/backstory for your OC, please let me know— otherwise I'll come up with something. 🦇🎃🕸️

If you wanna get tagged in these just let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the tag list. 🤎🍂

this one here was requested my one of my lovely Wattpad followers!

tag list; @ravennaortiz

word count; about 1.4k

Happy couldn't believe his eyes as he entered the living room and saw their family dog, a white pitbull puppy, in a Halloween sweater for dogs, the wooden floor creaking under his heavy boots, announcing that he was home. Cassie, his beautiful wife, sat on the floor with their one year old son placed in her lap, the little boy stuffed into a pumpkin costume while their three year old daughter ran towards him in her ladybug custume, her blonde hair sitting in pigtails on top of her head.

This might be a strange view for some people, but for him it was normal by now, knowing his wife was an absolute Halloween fanatic. Scented candles made sure the house smelled exactly like it should during this time of the year. He couldn't care less about the way his house smelled, Cinnamon and apple definitely wouldn't be his first choice though. But as long as Cassie was Happy, he was too.

"Daddy! Look at my outfit!" The three year old girl spun around a few times, making sure to show off her whole outfit with the brightest eyes. "You like it?"

Happy watched his daughter's face light up even more as he picked her up, her little arms wrapping around his neck. "It's perfect, bug. You picked it out?"

"Yep! I wanna be a ladybug", the girl sing-sang, wobbling her head from side to side.

Happy winked at the woman on the floor, almost unable to take his eyes off the woman he had married five years ago. "Glad Mommy showed you the costume, you definitely chose the right one", he assured the little girl.

"Hey Baby", Cassie greeted him with the sweetest smile, getting up from the floor with their son. "This little fella here I thought would look cute in a pumpkin costume. I just couldn't leave it at the store", she explained, her tone almost sounding like a whine. "You have no idea how hard it was to only take two costumes. Well, threeᅳ I had to get Ace a costume, too."

"Yeah, bet it was such a hard decision", he rasped, his tone mocking yet still loving before he bent down a little to capture his wife's soft lips for a kiss. "Means you're ready for tomorrow?"

"Yep, as ready as we can be", Cassie nodded eagerly, stealing another kiss from his lips. "You're coming too, right? We'd love that, baby."

"Yes! You have to come with us, daddy", the three year old girl added quickly, tracing her father's head tattoo with her tiny finger.

Happy let out a raspy laugh before placing a kiss on his daughter's cheek and running a hand over his babbling son's dark hair, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as the boy happily squealed at him. "Of course I'm comin', I promised you."

Cassie smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. For a moment she had been afraid something had come upᅳ club business or whatever. "Good, can't wait to go trick or treatin' with you guys."

"Our kids better get enough candy or I'll take care of it personally", he winked at his wife, earning a giggle from her in return before following her in the kitchen, the smell of Cassie's perfect lasagne filling the air. "Smells good, babe", he praised, giving her ass a quick slap as their daughter was distracted looking over his shoulder to see what Ace was doing.

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully as she sat their son into his highchair. "Stop scaring our neighbors or our kids won't get anythi at all anymore. Now sit down, dinner's ready."

"They can try not giving them anythin", he said with the slightest smirk and a murderous glint in his eyes before he listened to his wife an sat down, placing their daughter on the chair next to him.

The rest of the evening was almost like every other. After dinner they watched a movie with the three year old, a Halloween one of course, while their son was already in bed, before spending some quality time together and preparing some trick or treat bags for tomorrow after they had out their daughter to bed.

ᅳ

The next evening it was finally time and, as promised, Happy had taken the time for his family. Together with Jax, Tara, Abel and Thomas they had walked through some streets in Charming to go trick or treating.

After Jax and Tara had decided to go to Gemma's, but the three-year-old hadn't had enough of collecting candy, Happy and Cassie had decided to stroll a few more blocks, wanting to let their children have some fun.

Happy's eagle eyes kept an eye on the three-year-old, her ladybug costume with the blinking shoes so conspicuous that they couldn't really lose sight of her. Their son was sitting on his arm, his other one draped over Cassie's shoulder.

"Oh, someone's tired", Cassie cooed as the one-year-old yawned on Happy's arm and rubbed his eyes with his little fists. "Maybe we should get home soon."

"Probably", grunted Happy, running his large hand over his son's head as the boy sighed theatrically and stuck his fist in his mouth as always when he was hungry. "And he's hungry too", Happy added, snorting a laugh.

Cassie rolled her eyes in amusement. "Of course he is, it's been an hour since his last meal. Poor boy is probabl starving already."

"Yeah, I think he needs his mom", the SAA chuckled before whistling in the next moment. He immediately had not only Ace's attention, who was happily running beside them and wagging his tail, but also that of the three-year-old who came running, her tiny feet carrying her quickly to her parents. "Your brother needs some sleep, we're going home, okay bug?"

"Noooo", the three-year-old pouted, clutching the handles of her black bat-shaped candy bag. "I don't have much candy yet!"

Cassie lifted an eyebrow in amusement, crossing her arms. "Oh, that's a lie. How about we go home and eat some of the candy, huh?"

The three-year-old parted her lips, ready to protest, which looked pretty cute in her costume and gave her parents a hard time staying strict. "Butᅳ"

"No buts, little Lady", Happy replied sternly, gently pulling her closer by her hand. "If you come with us now, we'll make some popcorn and pick out another movie. And tomorrow you can wear your costume again. Deal?"

"Really?" The three-year-old's eyes lit up, her small protest forgotten as she took her mother's hand and went home with them without throwing a tantrum.

"Thanks", Cassie mouthed, flashing her husband a smile. It was at moments like these that she always fell in love with him all over again.

ᅳ

Happy looked down as his daughter's soft snores mixed with the singing of the movie. Nightmare before Christmas was a huge hit in the Lowman house, but apparently this time it wasn't exciting enough to keep the three-year-old awake.

"Look, she even has a popcorn in her hair." Amused, Cassie plucked the popcorn out of her daughter's hair and put it on the table before peeling herself out of the cozy blanket and getting up, earning a confused look from Happy. "Take her to bed, I'll wait for you in the bedroom."

"That's what I've been waiting for." Within a few seconds and a grin on his lips, Happy stood up and carefully scooped the three-year-old into his arms while Cassie turned off the TV.

After a few minutes and both children asleep, Happy made his way to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with a huge grin as he let his eyes wander over his wife's body. Wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, she lay on the bed, her body propped up on her elbows.

"Come here", she said sultry, running her fingertips down her stomach and between her legs as she bit her lip. "Time for your treat."

"That's my kind of treat", he croaked, followed by a deep growl rattling through his throat.

With a kick of his foot, he quietly kicked the door shut. Happy got rid of his own clothes before he buried his head between his wife's legs after removing her slip, a satisfying grunt coming from him after getting the first taste of her arousal.

For him, listening to her moaning and whimpering his name, was the perfect way to end the day.

[chaosandcandies]

almost, always - ch 5

Warnings (only for this chapter) - social anxiety hinted, insecurity, swearing, overly exaggerated Pairings - idol!bangchan x female!bsf(oc) Read chapter one, two, three and four here!

Chapter Five: How to Accidentally Trauma Dump in 3 Easy Steps

THOUGH HANUEL ENJOYED her time at Chan's birthday party and got closer with his members, she had never expected to be added to a group chat with them.

Her phone buzzed continuously when she was trying to complete her homework. Too distracted to continue, she picked up the phone and checked out the incoming texts. From the past few days, she has been texting with them, reacting to the memes Felix would send and the sassy replies Minho and Seungmin always managed to come up with.

But these recent texts completely dumbfounded Hanuel:

[Group Chat: JYP’s Headache ;)]

Yongbokkie: Hanuel, come to the practice room 👀

Binnie: Yes, we need moral support. Chan is destroying us.

Drama Llama: Bring snacks too!

Jeonginnie: Waffles too, thank you :)

Han River: i prefer soda

Seungmean: This is why our trainer cries.

Hanuel let out a breath as she tried to type a reply.

Hannie-bee: I would love to come but I have assignments to complete. Plus my shift will start in like 4 hours. Maybe next time?

Just as she hit send, the chat blew up with messages from the boys, all begging her to come. But it was one text from Minho that had her jumping up, throwing on jeans and a sweater, and slipping into her sneakers. She fired off a quick reply before he could change his mind.

Hannie-bee: I'm just leaving. Please Minho, don't leak my baby pictures.

Within half an hour, Hanuel stood in front of the JYPE building. She stepped inside, spotting Han behind the receptionist counter. He waved, grinning, before leaning over to whisper something to the receptionist.

Hanuel waited as he slipped out from behind the counter, leading her towards the elevator. In the quiet hum of the elevator, Han leaned against the wall, glancing at Hanuel out of the corner of his eye.

“So, how’d they convince you to come?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Hanuel tugged at her sleeve. “Minho threatened me with baby photos.”

Han snorted so loudly that it echoed. “Of course he did. Bet he’s got a PowerPoint presentation ready, transitions and all.”

“I don’t even know where he got them,” she muttered, face burning.

Han tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Probably hacked into Chan’s computer. Or bribed your mom.”

Hanuel gasped. “Would she do that?”

“Absolutely. Moms are chaotic beings,” Han said solemnly.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with us now,” Han declared, grinning as the elevator dinged. The doors slid open, revealing a hallway lined with practice rooms. “Welcome to chaos.”

He started walking, but then slowed down, matching her pace.

“Are you...okay? Last time was, well, overwhelming.” he asked, voice quieter, more careful as he referred to the incident in the kitchen.

Hanuel’s chest tightened, but she forced a smile. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Han didn’t push though the expression on his face conveyed that he wasn't convinced and just nodded as held the door open for her as they reached the practice room. "Brace yourself."

The first things Hanuel noticed was Hyunjin attempting a flying kick — only to crash onto a mat with a dramatic wail. “I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!”

“You can’t,” Seungmin deadpanned, not even looking up from his phone. Meanwhile, I.N was wearing a traffic cone on his head, spinning in circles.

“Why do we even have that?” Hanuel whispered, eyes wide.

Han patted her shoulder. “Don’t ask questions. Just survive.”

“Hanuel’s here!” Felix yelled, flopping onto the floor like a starfish.

The room went still for exactly one second before everyone rushed toward her, shouting over each other.

“Let's dance!”

“Did you bring snacks?”

“Wanna wear the cone?”

Hanuel blinked rapidly, “I — what?”

“Guys, give her some space,” Chan said, shooing them away before turning to Hanuel, his smile stretching wider — dimples and all. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Hanuel’s heart did an embarrassing somersault. “The guys said you were overworking them. And Minho blackmailed me with my baby pictures if I didn't show up.”

Chan’s eyes flicked to Minho, who was stretching with the smugness of a cat that knocked something off a shelf. “Seriously?”

Minho shrugged. “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“I was protecting us,” Hyunjin piped up, doing a dramatic side split. “What if we collapsed from exhaustion? Or worse — ran out of snacks?”

Changbin threw an empty water bottle at him. “You ate all the snacks, genius.”

“I’m growing,” Hyunjin whined.

“You’re like six feet tall, stop growing,” Seungmin deadpanned.

Chan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad you came. Even if it took blackmail and snack-related panic.”

Hanuel smiled shyly, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “I, uh, brought drinks if that helps?”

Hyunjin gasped like she’d handed him the moon. “You’re an angel.”

Felix grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her toward the mat. “Okay, you brought drinks. Now stretch.”

“I don’t know how to dance,” she protested, planting her feet.

Chan snorted. “What are you talking about? You used to be a trainee, you —”

The room fell dead silent.

Hanuel’s stomach dropped.

Han sat up like a meerkat. “She WHAT?”

Minho slowly turned to Chan, his eyes gleaming like he’d just found the juiciest piece of gossip in the universe. “Elaborate.”

“No, no, no, no elaborating,” Hanuel blurted, waving her hands. “Chan’s just... confused!”

“Am I?” Chan whispered to himself, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor.

“Hyung, are you telling me she trained with you?” I.N blinked, tilting his head. “Like...as an idol trainee?”

“Were you a vocalist? A rapper? A dancer?” Changbin leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Felix clutched his chest. “Why didn’t you tell us?! We could’ve formed a sub-unit!”

Hanuel, cheeks burning, turned to Chan like he’d just personally ruined her entire life. “I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin threw himself across the doorway. “Over my dead body.”

Hanuel, without missing a beat, tilted her head. “That can be arranged.”

The room quieted down.

Then it erupted as quickly.

Han doubled over, wheezing. Changbin collapsed onto the floor, pounding it with his fist. Felix choked on his water, coughing through his laughter. Even Minho let out an impressed, "Damn."

Hyunjin clutched his chest, staggering back like she’d stabbed him. “Why do you hate me?”

Hanuel shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I don’t hate you. I’m just highly allergic to drama.”

Chan nearly dropped his water bottle from laughing so hard. “I can’t breathe. This reminds me of how you used to be.”

Hanuel took the opportunity to slowly back towards the door, inching away as the chaos swelled. She glanced over her shoulder, hand brushing the door handle.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Minho’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Hanuel froze.

Hyunjin lifted his head from the floor like a zombie resurrecting. “SHE’S ESCAPING.”

“GET HER!” Felix yelled, diving dramatically.

She yelped, bolting out the door, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Divide and conquer!” Changbin shouted, and suddenly they were scattering, a full-fledged manhunt unfolding inside the building.

“Lock the elevators!” Seungmin called, already running in the opposite direction.

“I’ll cut her off at the stairwell!” I.N declared.

Chan just laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot how intense they get.”

Minho cracked his knuckles. “She won’t get far.”

And Hanuel, sprinting for her life, seriously considered jumping out of a window.

She skidded around a corner, nearly crashing into a vending machine. Footsteps thundered behind her like a stampede, Hyunjin's voice echoing down the hallway like a war cry.

Just as she thought she’d made it to freedom, Felix appeared out of nowhere, arms spread wide like a goalie. “You shall not pass!”

She screeched to a halt, spinning on her heel — only to find Changbin and I.N blocking the other side of the hallway, grinning like cartoon villains.

“Nowhere to run,” Changbin sang, wiggling his fingers menacingly.

Hanuel backed up against the vending machine, chest heaving. “You guys are insane.”

“We thrive on chaos,” Hyunjin said, panting as he caught up, collapsing to the floor dramatically.

The rest of the boys arrived one by one, Chan trailing behind them, hands on his hips and trying not to laugh.

“You know we’re just messing with you, right?” he said, his dimples showing.

Hanuel bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “I figured... around the time you sent Hyunjin to emotionally traumatize me.”

“Character development,” Hyunjin wheezed, still lying face-down on the floor.

“We should’ve filmed that,” Seungmin snickered.

“I’m never coming back,” Hanuel gasped, but her words were undercut by the laugh bubbling out of her chest.

“You’ll be back,” Minho smirked. “We still haven’t seen you dance.”

Her smile faltered, heart clenching. But before she could overthink, Chan clapped his hands.

“Okay, okay. We tortured her enough for today. Let’s actually practice,” he said, ushering everyone back toward the room.

Felix held out a hand to help her up, winking. “Come on. You survived the initiation.”

Hanuel took his hand, dusting herself off, and followed them back to the studio. Her pulse still raced, her mind still echoed with distant memories — but for now, she let herself laugh with them.

The boys were sprawled across the studio floor, limbs tangled and breaths heavy from their impromptu hallway chase. But as soon as Chan clapped his hands, that devilish spark reignited in their eyes.

“Let’s do a dance-off,” Hyunjin blurted out, sitting up like he’d been electrocuted.

“What? No!” Hanuel protested, but the boys were already scrambling to their feet.

“TEAMS!” Changbin shouted, and everything descended into chaos.

Felix grabbed Hyunjin, cackling. “We’re unstoppable.”

“I want Seungmin,” I.N declared, latching onto his arm like a koala.

Changbin and Han fist-bumped, already choreographing some absurd routine with exaggerated body rolls.

Minho cracked his neck and turned to Hanuel, smirking. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Hanuel groaned, covering her face. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re blessed.”

“Cursed.”

“Inspired.”

Chan was already laughing so hard he had to lean against the mirror. “Okay, okay. You get fifteen minutes to make a routine. Winner gets bragging rights for life.”

“Or until the next practice,” Seungmin deadpanned.

Hanuel reluctantly stood, stretching her arms out. “I haven’t danced in years,” she muttered, anxiety curling in her chest.

Minho nudged her. “You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

She squinted at him. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

Fifteen minutes later, the teams were ready. The room buzzed with anticipation.

Felix and Hyunjin started first, performing a dramatic, unnecessarily sensual routine that had Han howling and Seungmin covering I.N’s eyes like a disapproving parent.

Seungmin and I.N went next, flawlessly executing a ridiculously adorable choreography, complete with synchronized finger hearts and an accidental elbow to the face.

Changbin and Han just...freestyled. It was mostly body rolls, unnecessary floorwork, and Han randomly yelling “LEGENDARY!” every five seconds.

Then it was Hanuel and Minho’s turn.

The music started.

Minho immediately hit the most disrespectful body wave Hanuel had ever seen, finger-gunning at everyone in the room.

Panicked, Hanuel defaulted to her muscle memory, falling into sync with him. They flowed through sharp hits and smooth transitions, and somewhere along the way, Hanuel forgot she was supposed to be anxious.

The song ended with Minho dropping to his knees in a dramatic pose while Hanuel stood over him, one hand on her hip and the other pretending to wipe a tear.

The room erupted.

“Oh, they ate that,” Felix gasped.

“LEFT NO CRUMBS,” Hyunjin shrieked, rolling across the floor.

“I’m filing a complaint,” Seungmin muttered.

“WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?” Chan exclaimed, staring at Hanuel like he’d seen a ghost. Hanuel simply shrugged, red colour creeping onto her cheeks as she wiped her palms on her jeans.

"Why did you even quit?" I.N asked, looking genuinely heartbroken. “You're so good. Was it because of the food? The company meals are kinda bad.”

“Was it the endless practice?” Seungmin asked, cracking his knuckles like he was about to start an interrogation.

“Did someone bully you?” Minho’s eyes narrowed, already planning a revenge arc.

“Was it the mirrors?” Hyunjin whispered, haunted.

Hanuel pressed her hands to her face, groaning. “Can we NOT do this right now?”

“Oh, we’re absolutely doing this,” Han grinned, sliding up beside her. “What if you were the missing piece to our choreo? The ace we never knew we needed?”

“Stop exaggerating please!”

"It was because of Chan, wasn't it?" Changbin accused, "He traumatised you into quitting because he was too good?"

“What? No!” Chan yelped, waving his hands frantically. “She was better than me!”

Felix clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “So you’re saying... we’ve been dancing with a secret weapon this whole time?”

Minho stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. “I say we win.”

Hanuel shook her head, collapsing onto the floor. “I regret everything.”

I.N lay next to her. “Let’s form a subunit.”

Hanuel sat down, chest heaving, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now. She caught Chan’s gaze, and he gave her a small, proud smile.

The room gradually quieted, breaths evening out, until it was just soft chuckles and the occasional grunt of exhaustion.

Minho sat up, stretching. “Why’d you quit, though?”

The question lingered in the air, heavier than expected.

Why did she quit?

She wished she had an easy answer.

She sat down, legs crossed, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “It...it got too much, I guess.”

Chan shifted beside her, brows furrowed. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “You already had enough on your plate.”

She traced patterns on the floor, memories surfacing like bruises. The long nights of practice. The constant pressure to be better, faster, stronger. The endless cycle of hope and disappointment. Her brother.

“I wasn’t cut out to be an idol,” she admitted, voice shaking. “I'm not exactly pretty and I lacked manners. My anger issues were quite serious back then. Plus I kept messing up evaluations. So, I just stopped.”

Felix sat down next to her, his voice gentle. “But you’re amazing. You just danced like you were born for it.”

Hanuel shook her head, biting her lip. “That’s because I’m not afraid of failing in front of you guys. But back then...every step felt like a test. And I kept failing.”

“It’s normal to mess up,” Seungmin said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We all did.”

“Hyunjin still does,” I.N whispered.

“I HEARD THAT,” Hyunjin shrieked.

Hanuel snorted, covering her mouth to muffle the laugh.

Chan rubbed the back of his neck, guilt radiating off him like heat. “I...I wish you’d told me. Maybe I could’ve helped.”

She looked up at him, her chest tightening. “You already did.”

And it was true.

Back then, Chan had been her anchor. The one who stayed late to practice with her. The one who told her she was good enough, even when she didn’t believe it herself.

But even anchors can’t save you if you don’t want to swim.

Before the mood could get any heavier, Changbin clapped his hands loudly. “Okay, this is too depressing. Someone do something stupid.”

Han shot up like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. “I’M GONNA BACKFLIP.”

“NO YOU’RE NOT,” Minho barked.

“I WANNA TRY,” Hyunjin screamed, already running towards the mirrors.

Felix gasped. “I’ll film it!”

“PLEASE DON’T,” Chan panicked, grabbing Han by the hoodie before he could launch himself into the air.

“Hyunjin, sit down!” Minho chased after him like an exhausted babysitter. “I AM NOT DRIVING YOU TO THE ER AGAIN.”

Hanuel watched the absolute chaos unfold, her chest still heavy, but her heart... lighter.

She wasn’t okay.

Not yet.

But maybe — just maybe — she was getting there.

Hahahaha double update!! Gosh, my inspiration is practically overflowing atp. I haven't proofread this so if you find any mistake please point it out ＞﹏＜ As always, don't be a ghost. Leave likes and comments. Reblogging helps a lot too <33 Stay safe and I'll put out ch 6 soon! ~Candy \(￣︶￣*\))

[npookie0]

Flowers for Your Thoughts. Ronin x OC

A story for my oc Luce x Ronin, first date, fluff with a little twist.

Cw: blood, descriptions of murder, spoilers for Killer Chat!

"Are you sure about this Angel?" Luce said while her friend stood in front of her, putting pink eyeshadow on her eyes.

The woman was getting ready for her date, a date with Ronin Beaufort, a serial killer she met through Slaughterhouse Losers after Angelic, also known as The Heartsick Angel, invited her to the server.

It was a surprise for Luce when the man showed interest in her, after all they had two completely different aesthetics and she thought that she's way too light and pastel for his liking. Yet somehow the two of them had great chemistry, Ronin being the flirt that he was and Luce not shying away even if his words made her flustered.

Ronin always complimented her kills whenever she sent them in the server or a new news report met the daylight after the police finally shared some information with the press.

<goreboy> wow luce, you're Really Lighting up the streets with your lil art <goreboy> truly The last light Of Our lives

He'd call her whenever she saw her online and sometimes send her his kills in DMs as an excuse to send her a selfie.

The whole server saw their obvious interest in each other, Angel taking over the role of Cupid, getting the two of them to go out on a date instead of flooding the server with their "little fling."

So now, here Luce was, having her make up done by her best friend while she stressed out about the date she was about to go to.

"For the hundredth time Luce, yes I am sure about this! You look fabulous already and I am barely halfway done with your make up." Angel sighed and put away the make up brush.

She took Luce's hands in her own and looked into her light green eyes.

"Luce, you're one of the prettiest girl I know, you have a heart of gold and are an amazing person. If Ronin won't like you, which I am sure will never happened because all I hear about from him is you, then I will beat the idiocy out of him." The youtuber squeezed her friend's hands gently and gave her a soft smile. "Now, let us finish you up with some lip-gloss and blush." She pat her on her shoulder and tucked some of the loose blonde strands of hair behind Luce's ear.

"Thanks Angel, it means a lot." The florist replied and let her friend continue with her make up artist duties.

Luce stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself in awe. Her dark blonde hair usually put up in a bun, were now put in two braids with two light pink bows at the end of them. Her fair skin was smoothed out with make up, her light green eyes were framed with glittery-pink eyeshadow, Angel paid extra attention to the make up to make sure that Luce's freckles were still visible "for more cuteness". Her outfit was just adorable; pastel pink baggy turtleneck-sweater, brown chequered pattern short flared skirt with a Hello Kitty pink bow attached to it. On her legs she was wearing dark brown tights, white legwarmers with pink bows and black Mary Janes. She was also wearing a light brown jacket and a pastel pink scarf, it was late February after all.

"So, what do you think?" Angel asked excitedly, standing right next to Luce and looking at her in awe.

"Woah... I look so... beautiful." She felt like she could cry right there and then.

Luce, a woman who fought her whole life just to be able to be the woman she desired to be for so long, now looked at her reflection in her mirror and could happily say that she sees a woman, maybe slightly taller than most, but still a very beautiful young woman. If it wasn't for the make up on her face she could tear up and cry in Angel's shoulder, thanking her for helping her so many times.

"Thank you Maria, without you I don't think I could ever find so much love for myself." She whispered, pulling Angel into a tight embrace.

The model smiled, rubbing her friend's back gently. "Shh, look at yourself sweetheart, you're a brave young woman and I believe there's a guy waiting for you in front of your house." She giggled, looking out the bedroom's window to see Ronin standing next to his motorcycle right outside Luce's home.

"He's already here?!" Luce turned around, gasping in surprise. "Oh my god... He's here!" She wasn't sure if she was more excited or stressed, but she was quick to pick up her tote bag with daisies painted all over it and kissed Angel on the cheek before she made her way out of the house, shouting a quick "Remember to lock the door when you leave and text me when you're home, dearie!" to Angel.

She walked slowly towards Ronin, shyer than she expected herself to be, after all she was much more open and brave in calls with him.

"Hey there, pretty lady." Ronin said when she finally stood in front of him, taking her hand into his and placing a quick kiss on the top of her hand.

Luce's cheeks burned up at the gesture, her eyes straying away from Ronin for a second. "Good to see you too, emo boy." She collected herself quickly. "Wow you finally changed that skull t-shirt." She said, looking him up and down.

Ronin was attractive to say the least, even if Luce would be playfully rude to him from time ot time, that emo aesthetic was definitely his and she couldn't imagine him as anything else but a bastardising Shakespeare emo guy.

"And you on the other hand wore as much pink as possible," He paused and leaned in closer, his mouth at her ear. "you wear the colour well, love." She nudged him with her elbow. "Ah sorry, sorry, I forgot you're trying to play a mean cool girl today." He chuckled and backed away.

"I'm not-! Ugh, never mind. Are we going for that date or do you want to let Angel watch us?" She asked and turned away to see Angel giggling and trying to hide behind a curtain.

Ronin shook his head and waved at Angel.

"Yeah, let's get outta here, doll." He outstretched his hand towards Luce who accepted it with no second guessing. Holding hands with Ronin? On their first date? Seriously, the butterflied in her stomach will kill her one day.

Luce didn't live in Uptown for long, so she was really surprised when Ronin took her to an ice cream shop that she was yet to see before. It was really sweet, its main colours were white and yellow and it had lots of sunflowers everywhere she looked. They were seated at a small table at the very back of the place, next to a window with a view at the square where some smaller artists sometimes came to sing or play for tips.

"So, how dya like it?" Ronin asked, sitting across from Luce, holding a cup of apple crumble ice cream in his hand while he moved a plastic spoon through the dessert.

Luce was digging in her own ice cream, strawberry and vanilla flavoured. She looked around once again, smiling at the beautifully growing sunflower standing near the counter. "It's a sweet place, thank you for taking me here Ro." She gave him a beaming smile.

"Heh, I'm glad ya like it, wouldn't want to bore my pretty girl to death, now would I?"

"Yours, am I now?" She chuckled and gently kicked him from under the table.

"Well, you have my aorta between your fingers, just how you usually have the flowers you take care of, it's time for me to take your aorta." He lowered his voice so no one else besides Luce would hear him.

Her green eyes sparkled with joy when he said that, nothing's more romantic than a serial killer telling another serial killer that she owns his heart.

"You're so in love with me already, Beaufort?" She asked teasingly, eating some of her dessert.

He chuckled. "And what if I am? Is it a crime to love a woman who lights your day?" That was an obvious play on Luce's killer name.

She scoffed. "Even if she could be the last light you'd ever see?" Luce raised an eyebrow, not caring if anyone heard her or cared to think more about her saying a name of a serial killer.

"Oh darlin', for woman like her? I'd become blind any day." He chuckled and dug out a bigger portion of his ice cream. "Say ahh." Ronin said, bringing the spoon closer to Luce's mouth.

"What is this? A romcom?" She titled her head, some of her hair falling on her cheek.

"you said you loved 'em, didn't you? Now, open wide~." He chuckled. "I'd bless ya with a taste of heaven."

She rolled her eyes, letting Ronin feed her with his snack. She felt the ice cream melt on her tongue, the taste of a sweet apple mixed with the spicy crumble left a pleasant aftertaste on the woman's palate.

She pouted when Ronin stole some of her ice cream. "Trade, dessert of dessert." He shrugged with that shit-eating grin on his lips.

"What's with you and trading hm? Secret for secret, story for story and now even ice cream."

"'s my brand."

"One of many." She rolled her eyes and fixed her hair, getting annoyed by the feeling of her hair on her face.

"You get me so well, pretty." Ronin said jokingly. "Alright, chop chop, we have places to be."

"Huh? What do you mean?" She asked, confused.

"What? Ya didn't think this was the last of our date?" He cackled. "Nah baby, we're going for a lil romantic sight seeing."

"I feel like 'sight seeing' isn't necessarily what most people would have in mind." Luce said, eating a big chunk of her ice cream, enjoying this last bit of peace.

"Awh, you know me so well, darling."

Turns out; Luce was right. They were standing at a end of one of many Uptown's shabby alleys, truly a prime spot for a date. Sight seeing turned out to be people watching, Luce told him what flowers the people reminded her of, explaining to Ronin why and what the meaning behind said flower was.

"That big guy is a yellow rose?" Ronin asked in disbelief, cackling as if Luce just told him the funniest joke ever.

"Obviously! He looks like he's the best friend you could ever have! Like the type of guy who gives you bear hugs and stuff." She said it like it was the most commonly known thing about a random person.

"Yeah, yeah, you just gave me a random flower, didn't ya?" Ronin laughed and put his arm around Luce's shoulder.

Luce laughed nervously. Her mind wasn't in the same place as her body, she was lost in thoughts, worried about something.

Ronin noticed immediately, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, what's up? I see you're not really present here with me." He said, rubbing her shoulder with his hand.

"It's nothin-..." She didn't finish, there was no reason for her to lie, Ronin saw right through her anyway. "I... prepared something for you, but with the route we're taking I don't think it's possible for me to take you to the gift naturally." She sighed and added in a hushed voice. "And I worked so hard on that thing."

"Oh? A gift, for me? Darling, you should've said so. C'mon, now I'm all curious." He turned her face so she'd look at him and looked straight into her eyes. "Won't you indulge me now. my light?"

She scoffed and nudged him with her elbow. "It's Your Last Light, butcher." She took his hand in his. "Now come on, or your eagerness and curiosity will be the death of me." She dragged him out of the alley and led him further into the deepest and filthiest parts of Uptown.

Ronin knew the way so well he didn't even need to look around to know where they're header. The graffiti on brick walls, broken glass scattered on the floor, piss and vomit staining the walls of the long closed corner stores. An even cuter and romantic place for a date.

"You decided to take the devil to his Purgatory?" He asked once the two of you stood in front of said alley, the alley known and feared by many, the alley belonging to the sinner and saint of Uptown, the man who brought them ruin and salvation. The Devil's Butcher.

"Yeah, cause I came here to kill you." She said lightheartedly, dragging him deeper into the alley.

"Oh, there's nothing I wish for more. A woman after my own heart really." His grin was wicked, sick even.

Ronin was proudly watching his little "workshop", not noticing that Luce wasn't holding his hand anymore and was kneeling between the gore and fifth of the place, in front of a body The Butcher didn't leave there.

"Close your eyes!" She shouted, standing up from the ground, holding something in her hands.

Ronin listened, covering his eyes with his and and listening as Luce's footsteps got closer with every move she made.

"Ready?' She whispered.

"I was born ready, doll." Ronin could beat that she rolled her eyes when he heard her scoff.

"Then... open your eyes."

Ronin heard the change in her voice, she sounded nervous, it piqued his interest more.

What he saw when he opened his eyes was just beautiful.

Luce was holding a human skull in her hands, a real, fresh human skull. White lilies tangled into its eye holes, blood staining them. His breath hitched when he took the carefully prepared gift from her hands.

"What's the meaning?" He asked.

It was a form of art, of course it had a meaning.

"You're in my thoughts. Haunt me in my dreams." She whispered. "It's not a heart yet, but I hope that my mind is enough for you, for now." She said, looking away from him, finding her shoes very interesting.

Ronin titled her head up, the look in his eyes, insane, sick, loving. Luce never seen him so happy before, the sight itself made her stomach go crazy.

"It's the best thing you could've given me," He whispered. "and trust me, that heart will be mine soon, darling."

Flowers dipped in blood little by little, just how the devil was falling for the light.

An art of Luce and Ronin made by @sincerelyyourslilly <3

I love my sillies and I hope that you guys will adore my baby girl Luce just as much as I do!

Funfact : her voice claim is Lest from Arcane!

[femminger]

Art practice by trying some other artist's styles that I'm a huge fan of!

From Top Left to Bottom Right:

@ghostishere0 - the original reason I started this doodle, as I wanted to draw a "shepherd lovers squad" and their OC (who I don't know the name of F) was the perfect fit for it.

@luminesparkz - the best interpretation of Pom pikmin. If I were Mr. Nitendo, I would make them the official comic creator along with the manga comics.

@marblyso - If I was a little more unhinged and made a shrine to Erma Shepherd, it would be mostly marblyso's art of her, it's my absolute favorite Erma depiction <3

@rexscanonwife - another OC that I don't know the name of, but she makes such a cute pair with Shepherd and has such cute art that why not, let Shepherd have multiple canon wives at this point.

@citruscrisp - I think this is secretly Alph in an alternate universe where he makes comics about himself, because citrus has Alph's character SPOT ON, and also loves to put that boy in a situation (which I am happy for, I enjoy seeing that boy in a situation)

@daisythecomic - oooaaaaaaaaaa they look like little mice people they look so soft and sweet I love them so muuuuuuuuuccchhhhhhhhh

@louie-posting - I can't not include actual Louie Pikmin on this list.

@kiwilittle - the soft, the sweet, the one who makes the best family style art, really making me wish I was an inch tall so I could go to holidays with the olimar family, also their wife design is so cute that if Olimar didn't already get it I would shoot my shot for her m a a m

@pikbugz - really nails the soft aesthetic that makes pikmin such a calming series, and their coloring style is so soft and good that it gives me the ratatouille nostalgia flashback moment.

@splitster - more than just the wraith au guy, they are the one who makes incredible and funny comics; I've seen so many fics with the rescue corps where I can pick up that yes, this trait came from a splitster comic, and that's a GOOD thing. Made me actually LIKE Dingo, the nerve.

@diesaur - I can't do diesaur's incredible, unique art justice, they are amazing at using geometrics and have the best charlie (his little teefs...)

@solluxander - Cars, one of my favorite pikmin Ocs I've ever seen! Collin deserves a slightly unhinged sentient fluffball boyfriend, and I always love seeing the new ways Cars will interact with him.

@sillypikmin - all hail the best pikposter, who I'm still convinced is an actual leafling living on actual pnf-404, literally every time I have a bad day I look at drawings of Moss and feel better.

@eggpathy - thank goodness they came back to give us old man yaoi. I keep their drawing of olimar kissing the pikmin good night on my phone and look at it before I go to sleep and so far I have yet to have a single nightmare.

@the-knife-consumer - the only person I trust with Louittany, toxic yuri my beloved, I just adore their beasty brittany design so so much, I wish I could have a small brittany to live in my house...

anyway they have the best headcanons for our beloved blorbo hamster people

@natibranch - there's a voice line of Louie going "wa-ha!" in this really cute sing-song voice and every time I see any art by natibranch I hear that sound in my head as a little burst of serotonin, they just nail that exact feeling so so well.

@pikked-min - Another of my favorite Pikmin OCs, Yuva! A really interesting and unique character concept with a lot of thought put into the worldbuilding, followed by a strong unusual personality that had me looking at the pikmin world through a new perspective entirely. Please, someone, give them some sunglasses. Read the fic it's so good

@ssserf - artistic and deep while still somehow looking like official nintendo tm art, genuinely the best at the pikmin proportions, how could I resist trying my hand at the classic amazing beautiful Brittany Fruit Sweater moment, literally SO iconic

@kashi-pon - while I was working on the part of this that was just kashi's various highlife dresses there was a part of me that wanted to dedicate the rest of the space to paying homage to the joke comic of Louie lifting his skirt to show Olimar that he's wearing shorts, except this dress....well......

@diamondwerewolf - the reason we got louie in a little bunny outfit anyway, and thus why we got kashi's dress version. you single-handedly turned Louie into a tumblr sexyman, how could you

[zoloxolo]

Project Thoughts: Student Film "Heard Somebody Cry" [April 12th 2025]

New semester, new student film to work on!

As I said in my last update, I decided to drop my uncompleted film "Lost and Found" last semester due to the amount of baggage it carried during production. I knew that I wanted to do something a bit more light-hearted and fun for the next one, even if it meant working on something as cringe as an animated music video of my two precious ocs.... a but indulgent, yes, last year was very difficult for me so dont judge.... Unfortunately, because i am using a song from a popular band, i won't be able to enter it into any film festivals. The most i can do is hope my film gets selected for my college's screening and maybe win a single award if the judges like it enough.

Anyways enough blabbering, here is what i have so far!

Lemmie first introduce you to my characters I'm going to be animating! The man in the green sweater is Omar, the other ghostly figure with the beret is Benjamin. Back in 2021 when i was attending CSSSA, I attempted to animate a short film of these two which was gnna be named Acquainting Painting. Looking back after years have passed.... it was very silly of me to think I could finish a 1 minute film in just a week, but I managed to have the storyboard done at the very least. I haven't uploaded the film on youtube yet so maybe sometime in the future I'll be able to link it here, but I aint gnna lie, I am a lil too lazy to find the video. I think the file itself is gone forever from my hard drive failing, but I definitely have the file exported as a mp3.

Here is what Benjamin looks like in human form with his proper colors. This was concept art for his redesign, thus the outdated outfit.

Here is what he's supposed to look like in the final product after adding in the effects, but tbh, I'm still not fully on board with these colors. It's got a nice pallet, but i want him to pop out more in a lighter blue since the setting is going to take place in an art gallery at night. By the time i roll out another update, I'll update his FINAL final look.

And now, for the animation segment!

In total, i wanna say i put in about over 40 hours of work into this since 3 weeks ago. I definitely should've put more work into this segment during that time, I was sorta dilly dallying for a bit. There's a few more boards beyond this, but i wanna wait to show it off after the majority of this segment is animated. It was super hard to animate Benjamin glitching since the only things i have ever animated up until this point has been character acting. I had to watch a lot of aimkid beforehand to study the way she makes her character move. I definitely need to watch more 2d animated movies that aren't disney related and get caught up with the times... but i can't help it, i love animating the Richard Williams way 😵‍💫

That's it for now. Its 8am and I stayed up all night trying to type all of this out. I'll see yall preferably next week.

[nvxzaa]

── .✦ Summer coffee

Masterlist

Pairing : no¡idol!Kim Seungmin x oc

Word : 1k

Genre : fluff

Warning : none

The last weeks of summer are slowly slipping by, with that slowness typical of moments you don't want to end.

Sohane spends more and more time at Seungmin's house. At first, it was just evenings after work, then mornings when she didn't even need to go home. A toothbrush in her bathroom. A sweater left on her chair. Her perfume mixed with his in the sheets. Nothing official, but it's all there.

They never put into words what they were, any more than necessary. It just happened naturally. And the more the days go by, the more obvious it becomes.

One afternoon, as they lay on the living-room carpet, the windows open to the tepid late-August heat, Sohane absent-mindedly draws on Seungmin's arm with her finger. His eyes are closed, a half-smile on his lips.

- Are you going to sleep?

- No, I'm just enjoying myself.

- Enjoying what?

- Of you, here, like this. You're calm. You don't grumble. You don't have your apron full of coffee. That's rare.

She laughs softly, her gaze lost in the shadows on the ceiling.

- We'll have to go back to school soon.

He opens one eye, sighs.

- I don't feel like it.

- I don't feel like it.

- I don't feel like it either.

Quiet. Not heavy. Just there. Like a suspended bubble.

- Do you think it'll be different?" she asks after a moment.

- Different how?

- Us. With the classes. The stress. Less time.

He turns to her, rests his cheek on the carpet to get a better look.

- Maybe we will. But we'll deal with it. The schedule's not going to change my mind.

She raises an eyebrow, amused.

- Do you have an opinion about me now?

- I do. And it's pretty excellent.

She raises her eyebrows, but he can see she's smiling.

- You're not very romantic, Seungmin.

- I'm just romantic in my own way. I make you pasta at 2 a.m., I let you steal my socks, I put up with you when you have your drama days. Isn't that what love's all about?

She lifts her head and kisses him softly, without warning.

- Yes, it is. That's what it is.

The next few days are filled with evenings on the balcony, ice cream eaten on a sidewalk corner and long walks with no specific destination. They don't do anything extraordinary, but everything takes on a special value. Because they know. Because soon, things will get faster, and blurrier.

And they want to hold on to every minute, every stolen moment at the end of summer, as if it were the last time they could experience this kind of simplicity.

One evening, when the night has fallen cooler than expected, they're both in bed, wrapped in the same blanket. Sohane traces invisible circles on Seungmin's chest.

- Are you scared? That it'll fade with time?

He thinks, then blows against her hair:

- No, I'm not. Because even if it changes, even if we see each other less... I'll always know where to find you.

She closes her eyes. And she believes him.

Waking up gets harder every morning. The air is still warm, but you can feel that summer is drawing to a close. The laughter becomes a little more melancholy, the evenings a little quieter. And even though they try not to think about it, the end approaches, lurking behind every stolen moment.

One evening, after a busy day at the café, they return to Seungmin's house. Sohane collapses on the sofa, her hair a mess, her cheeks still flushed from the heat.

- We survived August," she sighs. Give or take two days.

Seungmin places two glasses of water on the coffee table before sitting down next to her, his eyes still full of fatigue.

- My legs are gone. I think I'll have to be rolled in class like sushi.

She bursts out laughing, slumps against him.

- I'll buy you a little plastic box. You'll make a very believable maki.

He smiles, tired but sincere. Then, in a moment of calm, he slips his fingers between hers.

- I'm going to miss you.

Sohane turns her head towards him, a little caught off guard.

- We'll be in the same town, Min.

- Yeah, we will. But not like this. Not every night. Not waking up together. Not living in this kind of quiet bubble.

She looks down, her fingers tighten on his.

- Are you ready to see that bubble burst?

- Not a bit. But I'm ready to get back to it as soon as we can. Even smaller. Even a weekend version.

She looks up at him. He's serious, not worried. Just... determined. He really cares about her. And she feels it in every word.

- We're going to make it," she whispers, more to herself than to him.

- Of course we will. We're not the type to forget ourselves, Sohane.

She smiles, leans her head against his shoulder.

- And if you miss me too much, you write me letters. Just like in the movies.

- Or I show up with burnt cookies and a crappy playlist, the Seungmin version. Much more realistic.

- Much more you, yeah.

They stand there for a while, entwined in the silence of the living room, listening to the city slow down beneath their windows. The world around them is changing, slowly. But they're just trying to hold on to what they've built.

And despite the shorter days, the new schedules and the seven o'clock wake-up calls... this bond remains solid.

Like a thread stretched between two daily lives.

And for now, that's enough.

It took Seungmin a whole summer to understand. To realize that what he felt for Sohane wasn't just comfort or quiet affection - it was bigger, deeper. He could have ruined it all, with a curt word or a misplaced silence. He almost did, sometimes. But she let him learn, she let him love her in his own way. And now they're here. Together. Solid.

The tumult of the early days has subsided. The awkwardness has given way to a gentle routine, with projects taking shape without them really realizing it. They don't say it out loud, not yet, but in their silences, in the muffled laughter between the sheets, in the improvised Sunday morning plans... there's the future. There's them.

And they're good. They really are.

THE END

[hydrangeyes]

Unnamed

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

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

Edit Nov.8.2023:

*Looks everywhere but at you* it..it was going to be pwp.

Botw link x male lynel hybrid

Warning: kinda slow burn, romance is there????, it is, courting, violence, slight misunderstanding, belly bulge, big dick, cum play, ass eating, blow jobs, pet play, overstimulation, nipple play/light torture, somniphilia, crying, light angst, public sex, voyeurism, switch link, switch oc, updated as I write lmao, this is pretty slice of life tbh, just with porn, ruts/heats, This is some wild shit, Wow google search please don’t 

Are you telling me lynel's exist and someone hasn't once thought "maybe 👀 these centaur babes can get it?" Cause I honestly don't believe that.

================================================

Chapter 1: I love Chabi, I feel like she would be a gremlin.

Note: Puuuuuure self-indulgence. Like listen my brain went brrrrrrrrr, this is for fellow monsterfuckers

Traveling after fighting Ganon all at once was rather...fun. Maybe it’s because he went straight to the source of evil and somehow lucked out. And now don’t have a sense of urgency to get to that end goal. The collecting of his memories happened right after as well and by then the princess herself wanted to truly rest up before traveling with him.

He didn’t like the thought of leaving her behind, but he felt a little more at ease that at least she would be staying with Purah for the time being.

Link shivers as he tugs up the fur around his neck. Snowfield was feeling extra chilly for some reason.  He moves a little faster, shuffling through his pockets as he ate one of his emergency peppers. Imagine his relief when he sees the stable just up ahead with a few of the tiny town’s stacked together houses.

“Ah, link!” A voice calls to him once he steps in. The tavern/horse stable wasn’t too packed thank goodness but there was a familiar face. Chabi grins waving at the surprised Hylian.

Chabi and he became pretty good friends after the handful of times Link has saved her as well as traded monster parts with her. She mainly stuck to warmer places and just barely the edges of goron city. It seemed she was acting as an in-between for Kilton and fellow travelers. But being so far from the usual land she would circle in?

“Chabi? A bit far from the base aren’t you?” Link said softly with gesturing to the whole thick woven sweater she was in. Giggling chabi smirks puffing out her chest. “Call me the official Monster tradesman! I’ve started traveling a little further out for those rare materials. Kilton even gifted me with some weapons that’ll protect me better!” she starts up, gesturing him to join her at the little table she was sitting at.

“And so I thought why not start the one place I know the boss doesn’t care to visit. He doesn’t like the cold, he says it makes his feet clammy.”

Link holds back the many questions that pop up in his head about that. Best to store that away with the other questions he has under Kilton’s name. “I..see. So Snowfield was your first stop or?”

“Hm? OH no hehe. Rather some interesting rumors brought me here.”

Feeling like this will be a long one Link waves over a barmaid to buy some spicy curry and hopefully a few fish skewers. Maybe buy a bed for the night as well, just in case, the others get taken.

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

“-And so there I was! Hearing about a lynel wandering between the mountains and near the ruins! And oh I just had to see for myself, maybe ask for a few loose fangs or toenails you know?”

“No. I don’t know.” Link muttered into his drink. It felt like hours since she started this story, before finally getting to the point. He learned way more about how to skin mokoblin guts than he wished. Anyway- “I doubt they would give you a fang but what’s this about it traveling to the ruins?” As far as Link knew most lynels up here were feral or didn’t live anywhere close to the ruins.

“Well, which ruins now that I think about it…” Link asks as Chabi finishes up the last fish skewer. 

“Mhh, Well I say ruins but really it’s the forgotten temple.”

Now that got his attention. What could a lynel want in that guardian-ridden place??? Link frowns leaning back o think about it. That temple of any was the most dangerous and well...Link couldn’t help but feel a little responsible since he didn’t exactly break down the guardians still in there. He was still getting the hang of dealing with those, much less the mobile ones.

The thought of those stalkers since a bone-deep type over shiver. “Why don’t you let me check out if the rumors are true or not. I know you can take on a hoard of bokoblins but even when they’re going easy on you lynels are tough, and rather approach you than vice versa.”

Chabi yawns pouting a bit, sleep probably just now getting to her. “Mm, I suppose. If you can leave them a welcoming message to trade with me please?” she half pleads and half demands. Link nods getting up for a stretch, absolutely happy that she didn’t stop him. He was ready to collapse on the nearest free bed. “I will, soon as I get up I’ll head on over okay?

“Link if I wasn’t so devoted to the boss, I could just kiss you right now!”

“Please don’t.”

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End Notes:

Basing a lot of this on my 3 playthroughs of botw. And I played them chaotically, as well as just overall making some things up. I kinda want there to be a lot more people in the botw world, like stables have small villages of their own (tarrey town size at least).

 I have a whole dnd esc Au for this where most monsters have their own tribes etc. but lynels, Lizalfos, and maybe wizzrobes interact with humanoids and trade with them. Except for maybe wizzrobes, I feel like they’re more steal your shit and bargain it back, type people.

This issss planned to be very long like, there’s a whole courting arc I have in mind, If you’re here just for the porn, it’ll be marked.

Anyway, this will all probably be unedited and sloppy. It’s for fun and the chapter lengths will probably vary as well. Idk why but I like the thought of the monster appreciators hooking us best friends (or partners) and link is just there, rethinking his life choices. 

But again real talk I right this whenever my mind gets staticy so please excuse any grammar issues, the many run-on sentences, etc etc 👍

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Chapter 2: O-oh someone fucked a Lynel.

If there's one thing he loved about the snowy areas it was waking up to fresh snow in the morning or nights.

Breathing in that crisp air and starting his journey. Link rubs his cold cheeks, face a bit flushed.

But Chiba woke him up first thing and he will admit he was also wondering about this traveling lynel. The locals (at least the ones up) all mentioned how the lynel kept to themselves, and only came to buy directly from the farmer.

Makes him wonder if the lynel was checking out the area to maybe start up a new home. Shaking his head Link focused on climbing the hill and not sliding off. 

[miles-soong]

Here’s too much info about my self-insert Trek OC- Rei Suro

About:

-pronouns: they/them/he

-26

-ship: Data (boyfriends)

-autistic

-aro/ace-spec

-Rei is awkward and shy but tries to be social with everyone.

-engineering, works primarily on the warp core and doesn’t work well on the bridge

-holds rank of lieutenant

-their father was a Starfleet engineer on the Enterprise, so they grew up on the ship

-after their time at Starfleet Academy they worked on a Starfleet base before joining the Enterprise crew

-they teach music lessons and do art in their spare time

-they enjoy the holodeck, but usually, only if it’s to spend time with others

-they’re Data’s boyfriend, they complement each other’s awkwardness, and Data brings Rei out of their shell

-Data and Rei met through Geordi, who introduced them at a music recital

-the two of them are fascinated by each other and spend long hours talking and learning from each other

-they make each other feel more human

-Rei has accommodations to wear sensory-friendly clothing and chooses to wear the same comfortable sweater

-they wear a uniform occasionally, and the Crushers eventually gift them a cozy sweater that resembles the engineering uniform top (it was Wesley’s idea)

-friends with Geordi, Reg, and Wesley

-awkward when interacting with Geordi, but Geordi is very patient. They hang out in Ten Forward for lunch often. They met through working together

-Rei and Reg met after Geordi mentioned Reg to Rei. Rei bravely introduced themselves to Reg one day, and eventually the two of them play Pokémon on the holodeck regularly (yes, Pokémon exists in my Trek universe)

-Wesley became curious of Rei when Rei and Data started dating (as many people did). He got Data to introduce him, and Wesley and Rei become friends over the memes they both create and distribute over the PADDs.

-Spot likes Rei a lot, and Rei adores Spot.