#[ not the best example of a friend‚ but The First... and this is what counts ]

[littledata]

@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

#warrior nun #avatrice #extra writing

[nazorneku]

Otto reminisces memories with Void Archives featuring @saganarr

#Ⓐ : visuals ( void archives ) #[ deepbreaths.gif ] #[ im okay— im totally okay ] #[ to say that Otto's death chapters traumatized me in more ways than one would be a monumental understatement ] #[ Gaius vc: such devastation... this was not my intention ] #[ VA hates this man for locking him up‚ but he also was the first human connection— cube even calls Otto “an old friend” by self in APHO ] #[ tho he would throw a tantrum and deny‚ when Otto would call VA “a friend” ] #[ im not okay— Otto was the first to simply TALK with the cube after 1500+ years of silence (after they dug up VA) and now he is gone too ] #[ like for self-aware AI it's v important to connect and converse with creators‚ to learn from them‚ to know them ] #[ and then you are put into a fucking cube for smth beyond your control and ppl just use you as a tool ] #[ your will‚ your personality‚ is ignored and left to stagnate... ppl just dont regard you as a person‚ just a tool or machine to be used ] #[ despite all the bickering and resentment‚ VA had a lot of fun with Otto— he rly was the FIRST friend after so many thousands of years ] #[ not the best example of a friend‚ but The First... and this is what counts ] #[ im so v much okay rn— im not crying bout my synthetic children ] #hi3 spoilers #gif warning #♢ ：実際には互いに鏡像です : fool & key (saganarr) #[ slaps the tag for the worstie and calls it a day i cried enuff today already ]

[eeldritchblast]

Some misc. Wyll facts I collected while browsing his dialogue files like a madman

If Wyll dies and you ask his corpse what is ultimate goal is, his response is "Freedom from Mizora".

Wyll's mother died when he was born. Growing up, he was so close with his father that he never felt like he needed anyone else, but as an adult, he's questioned what it might have been like had she lived.

Wyll does not consider himself a man of faith - in fact, he resents "the so-called good gods for tolerating the curelty of the evil" - but rather believes "the faith that matters is that which you hold in yourself, in the ones that most matter to you."

More than one devnote reveals Wyll intentionally tries to downplay his emotions. Example: "Not too sad outwardly even though he is."

Wyll's father trained him how to use a rapier, sword, and bow.

Wyll uses "a light spritz from a vial of jasmine dust" as perfume.

Wyll considered dukes to be hypocritcal for their diplomacy with bad people.

When Wyll was a young boy, he was smitten by Stelmane.

When Wyll was eight, he snuck into the Counting House to see if the rumours of mythical treasure it held were true. The guard spotted him and took him straight back to his father.

When Wyll was fourteen, he had his first alcoholic beverage, and got so tipsy from wine that he puked in Dillard Portyr's bushes.

Wyll had his first kiss in The Blushing Mermaid when he was fifteen.

Wyll claims he's spent some time in the Underdark in his adventures as the Blade.

Wyll says he's killed a vampire-spawn before, when Player!Astarion confesses he's one himself.

Wyll claims his toughest kill was a minotaur, and one of his scars is from the battle.

Seven years prior to the game, he made his pact with Mizora to defeat the Cult of the Dragon, and was disowned and exiled from Baldur's Gate by his father. He was seventeen at the time.

Five years prior to the game, he took on the mantle of the Blade of Frontiers, after rescuing a child from a band of goblin attackers near the Cloakwood.

Karlach calls Wyll her best friend.

#wyll #bg3 wyll #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[lightseoul]

endearment

synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing

word count. 1.9k words

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.

“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”

From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.

The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.

You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.

Go figure.

He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.

Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.

“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.

Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”

Humming an okay, you click the accept button.

“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?

You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”

At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”

You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”

With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.

You poke at his side, trying to be playful.

“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”

He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.

Huh.

The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.

“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.

You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”

From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”

Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.

You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”

At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”

“Yeah…”

You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.

Emergency contact.

You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.

“You named his contact…Bakugou?”

Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”

Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”

Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.

When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.

Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.

“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.

The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.

You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.

Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.

With his mother, of all people.

“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.

She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”

Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.

Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”

In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.

When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”

“Oh—I—uh…”

You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.

You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.

Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”

To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”

You could simply nod in response.

From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”

A fourth time does not end up happening.

Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.

‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.

Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.

Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?

You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.

Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.

A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.

Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”

At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”

You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”

You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”

“Bad news face?”

Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”

“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”

You shrug sheepishly.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”

He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”

“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”

With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.

A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.

“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?

You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”

Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.

He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”

“What are you talking about?”

This is what made him act weirdly the past week?

“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.

“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”

“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.

“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”

 You shoot him a knowing look.

You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.

Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.

You gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

He only grunts in response. You press on.

“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”

You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.

“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”

“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.

Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”

He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”

At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.

He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.

“Stop laughing at me.”

And when you don’t: “Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”

He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”

You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”

At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.

“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”

You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.

“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”

bonus:

“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”

“At this hour?” he snorts.

“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”

You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.

Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.

At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.

Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”

He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.

“Can I call you babe?”

Bakugou chokes on his spit.

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

#as i said #we love an emotionally constpiated bakugou <3 #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst

[srjlvr]

[ LET’S GET MARRIED ! ] — lhs <3

PAIRING. lee heeseung!student X femreader!student !

SYN. the uni is giving away free dorms! under one condition, in order to save your desperate broke ass student’s life, you’d have to get married. and who’d be the lucky person to marry you if not your childhood friend? no feelings involved of course!…..right?

GENRE. he fell first but she fell harder, basically being in denial for feelings at first, childhood friends to a married couple, fluff fluff fluff !

WARNINGS. mentions of getting married(obv), rest of enha and lesserafim’s yunjin & chaewon are in it too, mentions on having kids(no, there will be no kids here its nothing serious!!), mentions of food, being broke because of uni student life. (pls do lmk if i missed something!) || NOT PROOFREAD AND VERY POORLY WRITTEN!!

WORD-COUNT. 5.1k+ (damn!)

NOTE. this is me being extremely sorry for not continuing my heeseung smau by releasing a heeseung oneshot yay!! i actually got the inspiration from HAPPINESS (one of my fav kdramas!) please leave some feedbacks!! i really wanna know what you thought about it<3

when you were younger, you’ve made a wishing list to you in the future, as soon as you turn an adult.

three important wishes were ;

first, never go broke while being a uni student.

second, never get married before the age of 25.

third, never ever fall in love with your best friend since childhood, aka lee heeseung.

first one is already being a huge failure. younger you would be definitely disappointed in uni student you, not that you care that much, but being a broke student sucks.

“my parents are literally about to kick me out, i get that, i’m a 22 years old uni student who’s still living up their asses, they probably want some peaceful and quiet life” you smacked your head over the lunch table, both of your friends looking at you concerned.

“maybe it’s time for you to pay for the dor-“

“never! yunjin, tell her how broke i am”

“she has like 1 dollar in her bank account, she’s still taking loans from her parents” yunjin nodded and you rolled your eyes.

“you didn’t have to go that far”

“oh i did”

“oh i know! what if you just start working?” chaewon raised her voice a bit.

“i have no time!”

“excuses excuses blah blah blah” she mocked you.

“look at heeseung for example, he works in a part time job at the convenience store right next to uni” yunjin pointed out.

you searched through the lunch hall and found the one person you’ve been looking for, lee heeseung.

you’ve been stuck to him ever since childhood, with your mothers being the biggest best friends you’ve ever seen, it was pretty hard to not see him every day in your young days.

both of your mothers even got pregnant at the same time, and gave birth around the same time, you’re two days younger than him.

your photo album is full with pictures of you and him, and so are the hanged photos on your house wall.

your mother and his mother were your biggest shippers, forcing you both to hug each other and even wear matching clothes.

your elementary school memories are filled with heeseung next to you and the whole class shipping you two.

highschool days weren’t better either, guys who wanted to try a move on you were always so scared of heeseung, they were so sure you and him are dating, with the amount of glares they got from him it was really hard to think otherwise.

your highschool crushes rejected you, always giving the excuse of not wanting to be in a relationship, hiding the fact that heeseung warned them that if they’ll say yes he’ll make sure they never see a daylight again.

he was joking, really. he’s not the violent type, and he couldn’t really explain why was he feeling so jealous whenever he saw you confessing to a guy who isn’t him.

heeseung got used to watching you from afar and protecting you, and you got used to search him everywhere you go even in crowded places and having his company ever since childhood.

“hee!” you called and waved at him, he waved at you back with a smile on his face.

“i swear if i didn’t know both of you were childhood friends i would’ve think you’re a married couple or something” chaewon rolled her eyes and you scoffed.

heeseung continued his way to his usual table with his friends.

“thinking about ways to confess your love to her?” jake smirked and heeseung shook away his thoughts.

“hm? who?” he asked.

“it’s obvious who! don’t play dumb come on!” sunghoon playfully pushed the older one.

“we’re talking about Y/N! everyone in uni are talking about you, even those who know nothing about the two of you” jay remarked.

“there’s nothing between us, we’re just friends” heeseung shrugged.

“and i’m queen elizabeth” sunoo tsked.

heeseung rolled his eyes and began to eat, “you know, even if i did have a crush on her, why would she even accept my confession?”

“ohhhh~” his friends teased.

“it’s kind of obvious she likes you, we’ve watched her ever since we became friends with you, and the way she looks at you is just different” jungwon shrugged and ni-ki nodded.

“she’s always searching you in a crowded room, as if you’re her guardian angel and she only needs you in her life in order for it to be perfect” ni-ki then stole a few bites of heeseung’s meal.

“hey! not cool” heeseung scoffed and ni-ki giggled.

“it’s not bad to have a crush on your childhood friend, you know?” jake smiled, “sometimes all you need is a miracle” jay added.

“hey, let’s go on a work search for yo-“

“no no no yunjin not you too!!” you sobbed, “i have no time to work and i need to search for the cheapest dorm, a one i can actually afford as soon as possible”

“why don’t you just go and ask heeseung for help” chaewon shrugged.

“it’s not that easy, i don’t want him to worry about it too much, he works hard for his money too” you pout and they nodded.

“by the way! how’s the money for the uni dorms is going?” jake asked heeseung who was busy fighting with ni-ki over his food.

“i’m just a few shifts away from getting enough money, i’ll ask y/n to become my roommate as soon as— what?” he noticed his friends looking at him.

“y/n and you? being roommates?” sunoo teased.

“hey, me and y/n spent all our childhood together, my house is her house and her house is mine, it has been like that for a while” heeseung sighed and they all nodded hesitatly.

“still, you said y/n’s parents told you about her not being able to pay for the uni dorms, are you really willing to pay it all?” jungwon asked.

heeseung shrugged and took a bite from his food again, “it’s either that or she’ll get kicked out by her parents”

“you really are her guardian angel” ni-ki whispered.

“good morning! you have afternoon classes today right?” your mother woke you up with a smile smeared all over her face.

“mhhm” you hummed, still trying to adjust the bright sunlight that hit your face.

“i need you to bring some medicine for ms lee! she’s been sick and i bought her some things” your mother helped you to get up and shoved you a bag, “here”

“can you please just let me get—“

“you can get ready at theirs! quickly quickly go!” she pushed you outside of your house. damn, she really does hope you’d get out as soon as possible.

she was right though, heeseung’s house is your house, and your house is his. you have a few clothes and even a toothbrush at his house and he has the same at yours, getting ready there was never a problem to you.

a walk to their house is even less than 5 minutes so you weren’t worried about someone from your neighborhood getting a jumpscare and thinking you’re some kind of a zombie.

you took out the keys and opened the door, heeseung was sitting in the kitchen and eating his breakfast.

“don’t ask, been a rough morning, where’s mom by the way?” you asked him and he pointed at her room. you got used to call his mom your mom too.

you saw her sleeping so you left the bag and the medicine next to her, leaving a note saying good morning and instructions of how to take the medicine, as if she doesn’t know all of that.

“you have afternoon classes too?” you asked heeseung while getting ready. he was in his room, lying on his bed while playing some games on his phone.

“not really, i don’t have any class today” he chuckled.

“since when don’t you have any classes today?”

“ever since i decided that im too tired to go to uni”

you rolled your eyes and threw one of the pillows at him, “don’t be stupid! get up and get ready to go!”

he giggled and shook his head, “i’m joking, i took evening classes for today”

you pressed your lips together and nodded, you don’t know why but hearing him giggling always made your heart skip a beat, but you don’t have any feelings for him, like, at all. right?

afternoon classes started and before you knew it, it was already lunch time.

“y/n! you won’t believe it!!” chaewon shout.

“what is it?” you shout at her back even though you were sitting right in front of her.

“i found you a solution! you can get a free dorm!” she shout back.

“what!” you shout.

“can you stop shouting! for god’s sake you’re literally a 1 cm away from each other” yunjin, who was covering her ears yelled.

you and chaewon shared an eye contact and froze. yunjin is so scary when she’s angry.

“continue please” she coughed and let chaewon continue what she had to say.

“it might seem crazy what i’m about to say,” chaewon sighed, “the uni is giving away free dorms—“

“no way omg omg omg please tell me i’m dreaming this is not happening right now right this is not real righ—“

“under one condition!” she cut you off and took her phone out of her pocket to read the terms.

“in order to get a free dorm, you have to have at least one option applied ;

one, you’re younger than 18. two, you’ve been scoring A+ on ALL of your exams and three, you’re between the ages 18-25 and got married, or engaged” she finished reading and turned off her phone.

“but chaewon, i’m not younger than eighteen” you complained and rest your head on your arm who was lying on the table.

“nor scoring A+ on ALL of your exams” yunjin added.

“thanks yunjin, i needed that”

“always here to help”

“then you know what’s left” chaewon smirked and you sat up, looking at her with innocent eyes.

“no” you let out.

“oh yes”

“i have no one to marry to” you argued.

“yes you do!” yunjin replied.

“i do not!”

chaewon and yunjin raised a brow and crossed their arms, “you don’t?”

as heeseung entered the uni entrance, you ran towards his direction and stopped in front of him.

“y/n why are you still here—“

“let’s get married” you said it out loud in front of everyone who was around.

your surroundings suddenly became quiet and everyone was staring at you two, starting to whisper and waiting for heeseung’s answer.

instead of answering he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the entrance into a place in the garden next to the uni.

the walk there was making you so nervous and anxious, what if you were a bit too much? asking your childhood friend to marry you just to get a free dorm? are you that desperate?

when he finally stopped, he let go of your wrist and cupped your cheeks, looking straight into your eyes.

“what did you say?” he asked, his eyes looking for any sign or answer from you.

“i said, let’s get married”

heeseung could’ve swore his heart skipped a beat because he for real felt like he died at that spot.

“let me explain!” you said before he could respond.

“the uni are giving out free dorms to anyone who’s between the ages of 18-25 and is married or engaged” you sighed.

heeseung let go of his hold and sighed, looking down and closing his eyes.

you really didn’t mean that genuinely, did you? something in him really hoped you did.

“hee?” you asked, biting your lower lips, suddenly feeling more anxious than before

“sure, let’s get married” he chuckled.

you broke your second main wish on your list.

heeseung was just a few shifts away from getting enough money to get the both of you a place to live in, he could have told you that too, but he chose not to.

only crazy people would agree to this idea, you were so desperate that you actually just asked him to marry you, and he guessed he was one of those crazy people, because he had no idea why he said yes.

he had other way, without marrying you, but something about the idea of marrying you made him feel excited.

“i knew it i knew it! only crazy people would agr— wait what” you blinked a few times after you realized his answer.

“i said sure, let’s get married” he smiled softly and you were about to faint.

“no feelings are involved….right?” you hesitantly asked him, hoping he wouldn’t agree with you.

instead, he nodded slowly and hesitantly, “no feelings involved”

you regretted that sentence so bad because the day after, when he kneeled on one knee and held a ring out for you in front of everyone and proposed to you, your couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you actually broke your third wish on your list a few years ago, you were in love with lee heeseung for years.

“y/l/n y/n, i have loved you ever since i can remember, i watched you grow up and grew up with you as well, i got used to being with you 24/7, i can’t see the rest of my life without you in it, will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to marry me?”

even though it was an act(according to you), it felt so real to the point where you cried and sobbed so badly, while putting on the ring he bought for you less than 24 hours ago.

it wasnt planned. the proposal wasn’t planned at all.

the plan was that you and heeseung will go to the uni secretariat and request an application for the free dorm since both of you are engaged now.

heeseung had no reason to put on this whole show and show everyone that you’re now engaged. you have no idea why he did it, and instead of getting angry at him, you fell in love with him even more.

it felt wrong, it felt not right.

but you didn’t care, you always knew your feelings for heeseung were somewhere deep inside your heart. you tried to push them away all the time, because there was no way your childhood friend, the popular boy in your highschool, the kid who grew up with you, had feelings for you.

you tried to deny your feelings but now you realized thrre was no use anymore, so you let yourself love him as much as you can.

it wasn’t the desperation that lead you to ask him to marry you, because then you’d ask literally any other guy, it was your pure love to him, to the guy who was always there for you when you needed him.

“heeseung! explain what was that!” his six other friends gathered in a circle, surrounding him and not letting him go.

“what was wha—“

“you and y/n? married?” jungwon shout.

“have you gone crazy?” jake added.

“and she said yes! something is not right” jay joined.

“yesterday you told us you have no feelings for her!” sunoo remarked.

“you didn’t even believe us when we told you she’s obviously in love with you” sunghoon tsked.

“something isn’t sitting right to me” ni-ki gasped.

“explain now!” they all said at the same time.

“calm down!” heeseung coughed, “i’ll explain to you everything later”

by later he meant after classes, at his house, together with you and your friends yunjin and chaewon.

“yunjin, chaewon” heeseung nodded at your friends.

“lee heeseung” they glared at him.

“come on! both of you knew about it even before” you pleaded.

“doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be stealing you from us now” they rolled their eyes.

“i’m still so confused” ni-ki tried to quicken everyone and get to the point.

“me and y/n are getting married—“

“yeah no shit sherlock” sunghoon cute him off and heeseung glared at him.

“anyway, y/n would you like the explain why?” he turned to you and smiled.

“the uni is giving away free dorms to married couples between 18-25 so—“

“you decided to get married to get a free dorm” jay finished your sentence.

“have you gone mad? heeseung worked his ass to get enough money to get the dorms for the bo— mhhhhmmm!!!” sunoo roamed but jake covered his mouth before he could continue.

“sunoo!!” jake coughed and turned to you with a smile, “don’t mind him he’s been stressed from work and uni lately”

the rest of you giggled awkwardly and tried to ease the atmosphere.

after you yunjin and chaewon left, the boys stayed with heeseung, looking at him with concern.

“what?” heeseung looked at them back with his bambi eyes.

“i don’t know hee, it feels like….she’s kind of using you” sunghoon spoke, jay slapped his arm and he whined.

“he’s right though, marrying you only to get a dorm is quite crazy” jungwon nodded.

“he’s even crazier for actually agreeing to all of this” ni-ki said and jake shushed him.

“ni-ki is right, i am crazy, i have no idea why i said yes but she wasn’t forcing anything on me” heeseung shrugged, “besides, i’ve liked her for so many years so—“

“ah ha!! we knew it!” they all said at the same time and heeseung sighed. what have he got himself into?

after everyone left, heeseung texted you, asking you to meet him in your usual spot.

you got ready and for the first time, you took a while to do so.

you stared at yourself in the mirror a few times and even checked different outfits. this has never happened to you ever before, especially not when you knew that you’re going to see heeseung.

heeseung saw you at your worst, why are you dressing up for him now then?

“i must be crazy, crazy crazy!” you shook away your thoughts and got out to meet your soon-to-be-husband.

“hee!” you saw his back facing you and as soon as he turned around you froze.

did he dress up for you too? why does he look so breathtaking suddenly? his bambi eyes match the rest of his beautiful features on his face so much, you’ve seen this man grow up, you know every detail about his face and you couldn’t explain why it was so sudden that you got caught by surprise because of his beauties.

shaking away your thoughts, you walked closer to him and smiled.

“hey hubby” you grinned.

“hubby?” he asked.

“a new nickname for my soon-to-be-husband” you chuckled and he nodded.

“i actually thought about something,” he turned to you, “our parents will figure it out sooner or later, should we tell them the truth or—“

“no, let them believe we’re getting married without any reason other than being in love”

you have no idea why you just said that. but you hid your face as soon as you realized what just came out of your mouth.

heeseung felt too flattered and suddenly didn’t know what to say. you keep on making him speechless.

“ahem,” he cleared his throat, “you do know that they’ll probably rush out things and even take the wedding plan to their own hands“

i don’t care, i’d like to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you as soon as i can. is what you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“y/n?” he asked. he noticed you were too deep in thoughts and waited for you to come back to sense.

“i’m aware” you nodded, “i’ve also got a text from the uni, we’ll be getting our dorm in the next week, so we should start preparing”

heeseung nodded and looked at you. you were suddenly feeling so nervous and shy to share an eye contact with him, so you broke it as he just kept staring at you and taking in your beauty.

“hey y/n” he said, “hm?”

“i don’t mind marrying you and spending the rest of my life being married to you”

you looked over him and he had the genuinest smile you’ve ever seen.

it felt like the world had froze, and the snow that was falling suddenly stopped, it felt like it was just the two of you in this whole world.

“YOU’RE GETTING WHAT?” your mother yelled.

you and heeseung planned a dinner with both of your parents, to announce the big news.

things became quite awkward between the two of you, ever since your last encounter with him you could barely face him.

his sudden confession freaked you out and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “oh, okay” in the most dry way ever.

you wanted to tell him you feel the same, you wanted to tell him that you’ve been in love with him ever since forever. but one moment that caught you off guard ruined your chance.

you were stupid, stupid and idiot. heeseung probably thinks you hate his guts now.

heeseung in the meantime felt like he was breaking apart slowly. oh, okay?? that’s all you had to answer?

he felt dumb, he felt hopeless. the confession was completely out of the blue and unplanned, your beauty hypnotized him and he was so mesmerized by you that the words just came out of his mouth naturally.

what if you hate his guts now? what if he made you uncomfortable? what if you’ll regret it the last minute because you weren’t feeling the same about him?

all of those questions were eating him alive, and you didn’t help either. each time he came up to you, you were suddenly in rush and told him you have to go, it was breaking him inside slowly.

the dinner was one chance to finally talk with you again.

“married, mom. we’re getting married” you repeat what you already said a few seconds ago.

“when? where? how?” heeseung’s mother asked.

heeseung looked at you and smiled warmly, “it just happened, we’ve been together ever since childhood, it already felt like being in a relationship for so long, so we decided to marry each other” he chuckled and held your hand tightly, “to belong to each other until the day we die”

your parents looked at the both of you. you were sharing eye contact for so long, with heeseung smiling at you, looking deep into your eyes, and with you looking at him with nothing but pure love in your eyes that was making everyone in the room feel so jealous of you two.

“now kiss!” your mother said.

you and heeseung broke the eye contact and blinked a few times.

“what?” you asked.

“kiss then! i want to picture it and keep it in my photo gallery forever!” his mother added.

you were about to speak up until heeseung held your cheek to turn you to face him and it was only a matter of seconds until you felt his lips on yours.

it was your first kiss ever, your first time kissing someone, and it was his as well, but he lead you on so good that it made it look less awkward.

you were his first kiss. you, his childhood friend, stole his first kiss.

“we knew that it’ll happen one day!!” your mothers cheered, “we even have a whole wedding plan ready!!”

you and heeseung broke the kiss and shared an eye contact again.

you didn’t need to hear him say to know how much love he holds for you, and how he cherishes you so much.

and your eyes told him everything, they held the answers to all of the questions that bothered him. you love him as much as he loves you.

“i can’t believe you’re getting married, my little angels” your parents cried altogether which made heeseung let go of his hold on you and grab some tissues to wipe their tears.

“i love that ring by the way! heeseung you did a great job” your mother gave him thumbs up and he chuckled.

if only she knew that it was a ring he bought you in less than 24 hours and even rushed your friends to come with him and help him pick it only because he wanted his whole life to properly propose you.

it was a moving day already and your parents helped you pack every last thing, they even cried through the way, how could their princess leave them so fast?

“you can visit our house anytime!” you tried to comfort them.

“we’ll update you before that, we don’t want to catch you while doing the thing you know” your mother winked and you rolled your eyes, “mom!”

“i see you’re all packed and ready” heeseung came in to check on you.

“she is! take her away already!” your mother complained.

“not before you take this with you!” she went away for a few seconds and came back with a huge wrapped photo frame.

“don’t open it yet!! only when you get into your new house and get everything in place!!” she excitedly hugged the both of you and you nodded.

moving in was quite rough, you had a lot of boxes to unpack and organized, and you and heeseung never felt more awkward after the first kiss you shared.

you’ve barely spoke with each other and your friends were starting to get concerned.

“he told me he doesn’t mind marrying me and spending the rest of his life with me” you pout.

yunjin and chaewon shout and giggled, “girl! he’s more than in love with you!! he’s lovesick!!” they both said.

“what did you answer then?” yunjin asked.

“i told him okay” you smacked your head on the table.

“no way” chaewon gasped.

“yes way” you whined.

“you’re stupid!!” they both smacked you.

“then!!” you shout, “we had our first kiss on dinner in front of our parents” you whispered that part.

“what did you say? couldn’t hear you” chaewon said.

“oh she said that they shared their first kiss on dinner with their— YOU HAD YOUR FIRST KISS WITH HEESEUNG??” yunjin’s eyes widened.

“what happened after that?” chaewon asked curiously.

“we just finished dinner, and now we barely even talk” you sighed, “each time i see him i’m just blushing and running away, i can’t face him!”

“you have to!! you’re moving in soon!!” yunjin argued and chaewon nodded.

“it’ll be the death of me” you sobbed and they chuckled.

you were right at first, but slowly and surely heeseung made a joke and both of you got back to normal in no time, as if nothing happened between you two.

you even helped him organizing his closet and his room, and he did the same.

after a long day you and heeseung finally laid down on your now shared sofa.

“it’s been a rough day” you sighed.

“should we order something?” he suggested and you nodded immediately. you ended up ordering your favorite food.

“let’s open up the picture!!” you said and grabbed the picture your mom gave you earlier today.

you and heeseung both unwrapped it together and revealed an old picture of you and heeseung hugging each other with a huge smile on your faces.

“look at us then and look at us now” he giggled.

both of you hanged the picture right above your sofa and kept staring at it for a while.

“hey hee,” you spoke, “yeah?”

“i wouldn’t mind marrying you and spending the rest of my days with you too” you turned to him, “until the day i die”

“is that your way of telling me you love me too?” heeseung froze for a second. you caught him off guard for the countless time already.

although he understood very clearly your feelings after you shared your first kiss, hearing your words made his heart beat fast.

it was a confirmation for him that all of his feelings for you were actually mutual all this time.

instead of answering his questions you grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

he put his hands around your waist and pushed you closer to him, holding you tightly as if he’s too scared to let you go.

breaking off the kiss was hard, but the lack of oxygen was kicking in, you pressed your foreheads together, still with your eyes closed.

“does that answer your question?” you giggled and you felt him smiling.

“i don’t think so, i need a bit more of it to feel certain” he teased and you tsked.

“i don’t need to be in a relationship with you to feel certain about my feelings and my willingness to marry you, i want to spend my life with you, i love you” you said and pecked his lips.

“i love you too, y/n” he pecked your lips again and it suddenly got into a fight between you two about who pecks the other more, until it ended up in a long, deep kiss.

“so let me get this straight. you and heeseung had been in denial for many many years and manipulated yourself into thinking that you don’t like each other at all at all, then when y/n’s desperate and broke ass heard of a chance to get a free dorm by getting married, she went up to you, heeseung, and asked her to marry you, you agreed to the proposal because at one point you stopped lying to yourself and realized you’re actually lovesick, and the rest is history” ni-ki finally breathed out after almost rapping this whole story.

“by history i mean y/n waking up from her denial and realizing her feelings to you” he added.

“yes, exactly” heeseung nodded and you chuckled.

you were sitting together with your friends on one table, yunjin and chaewon who were already aware of the story added a few notes here and there as ni-ki summarized your whole story.

“this is a story to tell your children” jay smiled and the rest nodded.

“we’re not planning to get pregnant anytime soon, we didn’t even have a wedding yet” you sighed.

“you never know y/n, you never know!” sunoo slowly nodded.

“why did you say that as if you went through something familiar” jungwon teased.

“you never know y/n, you never know!” sunghoon mocked sunoo.

“that was a good one!” jake laughed with him.

“children, literal children who found themselves in uni somehow” you sighed.

“at this point we won’t even need to have any children when we have them” heeseung agreed with you.

“it doesn’t matter, as long as i’m with you” you smiled and pecked his lips.

“get a room you two will you!”

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v (bold means cannot be tagged)

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

#enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #enhypen heeseung #heeseung angst #lee heeseung x reader

[kbspangler]

This is the public statement from @alepresser and myself which went up at Webtoons tonight.

Now for some ranting. Just from me, not from Ale—she's innocent of the art crimes I've committed in the past, and boy howdy have I committed art crimes.

This is the first page of my first webcomic, A Girl and Her Fed. I started this thing back in 2006. (I don't actually need a head count of those reading this who weren't yet born in 2006. I'm sure you're delightful and I wish you well in college.)

And this is the last page I drew in early 2020 before I turned art duties over to Dr. Beer. It's better, right?

Well, these days, A Girl and Her Fed has pages like this:

I drew this comic for fourteen fucking years because it's a story I wanted to tell, and I thought webcomics were the perfect format for it. I didn't know how to draw. I got better through sheer obstinate perseverance and sticking to deadlines as best I could for, again, fourteen fucking years. I sought out a replacement artist when I ran into time constraints and couldn't do art plus writing anymore; I'm a much better writer than an artist, so I had no problems whatsoever kicking art to the curb.

The first time Ale sent me art that would go up on the website—art I hadn't needed to draw myself—I literally cried in relief because I had been grinding myself down for, yet again, fourteen fucking years.

So when I read comments from people who say they want to make a webcomic but can't draw themselves and therefore need to resort to AI, that little line between my eyes gets dangerously deep.

This isn't like I'm some old dude who's bitching over student loans getting cancelled after making regular payments. This is me, someone who threw raw art onto the internet like a monkey hurling fresh poo, because I wanted to make a webcomic and the art is part of the process of storytelling via webcomics! I could've (arguably should've) hired an artist right out of the gate, and that would've been part of the process of making comics, too: a partnership between an artist and a writer is also something which grows and develops over time.

For example, after Dr. Beer and I spent two years working on AGAHF, we decided we enjoyed our partnership so much that we set out to make another webcomic! It's great! It's got wonderful art and consistent storytelling! You should read it!

But turning art duties over to unaltered images generated by AI because you want to make a webcomic but "just can't draw" is, frankly, a bullshit excuse. I'm not talking about persons who are physically unable to draw due to disability—I'm talking about people who say they want to make webcomics but simply don't wanna do the art part.

Friends, if you don't want to show your entire ass in front of God and country, you don't actually want to make a webcomic.

Do the thing yourself.

If you're scared, don't be. Take the plunge. Set a goal of twenty strips and do the thing yourself. If you can already draw but can't write? Great! Write twenty strips, write forty panels, etc. You might surprise yourself. If you can write but can't draw? Great! Draw twenty panels and see what happens.

Whatever comes out of it, it's a thing you've done yourself. It's something new you've given to the world, no matter how big or small. Be proud of that. And if you need to partner with someone else to make your comic dreams work? You can do that, too! It's still a thing you've done yourself, and many projects are stronger when done together.

...but maaaaaaaaaybe hire that partner before you've busted your own ass for fourteen fucking years. That one's on me.

#webcomic #webcomics #side quested #comic #comics #indie comics #webtoon #webtoons #AI #ai art #ai generated #ai image #ai artwork #artificial intelligence

[sadprose-auroras]

On Top – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hi! I have been able to think of literally nothing else but this character, so I simply had to. Shoutout to all the incredible writers who have been doing the lord’s work writing for Hazel already, you’re all amazing <3 I just had to add my little contribution.

Content: mild violence, sexual themes and making out, cursing, out of practise writing, no use of y/n.

Summary: Cheerleader!reader and Hazel have the hots for each other. Other stuff contextualises that, but it’s not as interesting. That’s about it. Please let me know if you enjoy! Word count: 4.4k

You first heard about the club when PJ and Josie approached you in the hallway as you were searching desperately for a book in your locker.

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, when the pair came up behind you suddenly.

“Hey!”

You yelped in surprise, whipping around.

“Oh, hi. PJ. Josie.” You smiled. You weren’t particularly close with the two best friends, but you were friendly. Josie, more so. It wasn’t hard to be a little annoyed when you saw PJ treat Hazel the way she did. Okay, so maybe it infuriated you. Sure, your immense crush on Hazel might have had something to do with it, but nobody deserved to be tossed aside carelessly like that.

“What’s up? Um, we have a proposition for you,” Josie said. You frowned.

“Okay, what is it?” You were suddenly a little nervous.

“We think there is a serious lack of female solidarity at this school,” said PJ.

“Agreed,” you nodded. And you really did.

“So we’ve started this women’s, uh, like, um, solidarity club, to help us, y’know, come together, beat the patriarchy, learn to defend ourselves, it’s in the gym after school if you feel like coming along?” PJ asked.

“That actually sounds great.” You were excited. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly terrified of everything that was going on.

“Really? Great! And we were thinking that maybe you could bring along, y’know, some of your friends? Like- oh gosh, for example, Brittany and Isabel? Or-or- any of your, y’know fellow cheerleaders.”

You suppressed a smile. They were so not obvious. But you were down. Although you were considered fairly popular being a cheerleader, you were keen to hang out with some other girls. It felt like nobody truly understood you.

“I make no promises about Brittany and Isabel but I’ll ask! I’ll see you guys then,” you smiled, closing your locker. The bell rang, and you said your goodbyes as you headed off to class. You gave up on finding your book. Classes were weirdly short at your school, anyway.

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

It didn’t take much convincing to get your friends to join you. Isabel was immediately excited about the club, and Brittany, bless her soul, followed Isabel anywhere she went. Your shoes awkwardly squeaked on the gym floor as the three of you walked in and approached the group. All eyes turned to the three of you, some sitting, some standing, and a silence fell among everyone. You cleared your throat, speaking up first.

“Hey, this is the women’s solidarity club, right? We want to join.”

To your surprise, Hazel was the first to bound over and smile. Your heartbeat rapidly increased and your cheeks warmed, so you quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey you guys, come on in! We were just about to start-“

“Trust exercises.” Josie interrupted.

“Wrestling- wrestling each other.” PJ said at the same time, her eyes locked on Brittany. “It’s a fight club, actually.” You frowned. Surely if you were going to start a club, you’d have a clear picture of what it was going to be first? They seemed to have no idea what they were doing.

Your friend seemed completely ignorant, or at the least unphased by PJ’s crush on her. Hazel cleared her throat, and you felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. Not that you would ever tell her that. You could barely look at her without melting into a puddle. Her big, dreamy eyes that you could pretty much drown in. Her smooth-as-honey voice. Her radiant smile. The way she was so sweet to everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. How she was simultaneously so sure of herself, seemingly so confident. Her floppy hair that was always getting in her eyes, and just looked so soft that you always wanted to just reach out and-

Oh shit. You were definitely staring now. You looked away quickly, heart racing.

“We’re not supposed to talk about th-“ Josie mumbled to PJ. “It’s a self defence club,” she explained to the group. “Come on,” she gestured, and you all gathered in a circle, sitting down. Hazel sat next to you, and you had never been so aware of somebody’s physical presence before. All you needed to do was move your leg over a few inches and hers would be touching yours. You were vaguely aware of PJ explaining that you were going to practise defending yourselves against each other, but you were only half listening. You were too busy staring at Hazel’s knee. It was so close to yours. You were snapped out of your thoughts by her knee nudging yours. You looked up at Hazel, mortified that you were caught out.

“That’s you,” Hazel said.

“Huh? What? Oh,” you laughed nervously, putting two-and-two together. Josie had said your name. You gulped. You really didn’t want to go first. Surely fighting each other was counterintuitive for solidarity? You sat up, moving to the middle of the circle.

“And um… Hazel.” Josie said. Your eyes widened. You particularly didn’t want to fight her. What if you hurt her?

“Right, okay,” Hazel chuckled awkwardly, standing up to move into the middle as well. You smiled at each other nervously and began circling each other.

“C’mon!” someone shouted.

“Hit each other!” somebody else yelled even louder. Your heart racing, you took a step forward, swinging your fist, nowhere near as hard as you could have, cringing as you did so. Hazel, thankfully, ducked, and you missed. Continuing to circle each other, you both laughed nervously.

The group shouted encouragements, egging you both on. Hazel swung this time as you attempted to dodge. You didn’t quite move fast enough though, and her fist made contact with your cheekbone. You bit back a smile. It was not okay how much you enjoyed it.

“Get her, Hazel! Slay queen!” Sylvie shouted, as she swung again, and this time you ducked quickly. Using the opportunity, you thought you’d better try again, and attempted a right hook, cringing internally when your fist made contact. Hazel smiled. She actually smiled.

“Nice one,” she said, hitting you again, knocking you down onto your back. Amidst the shock, you were vaguely aware of your lip bleeding from where Hazel’s ring made contact. Before you could move to get up, she was on top of you, hips straddling yours, pinning down your wrists. The way her body was pressed against yours made your head spin and your breath quicken. Not to mention the throbbing between your thighs. Your cheer skirt had ridden up in the process, and it was difficult not to notice the only thing covering you were the thin bike shorts underneath.

“Ready to give up yet?” she asked, smirking. You smiled, using all of your strength to push her off you, the two of you rolling over so now you were on top of her. There was something about this particular situation that was making you so much more brave then usual.

“Definitely not,” you replied. There was a bit of back and forth as you rolled around, eventually ending up on your back, Hazel on top of you. Not that you were complaining. The soft noises she made, grunting and groaning as you fought, were possibly the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your entire life. It made you wonder what she sounded if they were noises of pleasure, instead of pain, if she might moan in delight if you were to kiss her neck, if you were to be between her legs, how she would gasp-

“Hazel wins!”

Oh fuck. Your train of thought had absolutely distracted you. You literally had forgotten to keep fighting back, too busy enjoying yourself. Hazel stood up, the loss of the feeling of her against you a large disappointment. You picked yourself up as well, wincing at the pain. Hazel was looking pretty worse for wear as well, blood dripping from her nose, hair mused. You vaguely wondered if it was normal to find it incredibly sexy.

“Well done,” you said, as she reached out to shake your hand. God, she was so endearing. You tried to ignore how much sweat had pooled on your palms.

“You too,” she said, “you were amazing.”

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

The next few weeks in the club were truly amazing. Despite the fighting being the thing to bring all of you together, you really felt like you had bonded with every single one of the girls more than you could have imagined. There was a beauty in the trust you put in each other’s hands to be that violent with each other.

More than anything, you felt closer to Hazel. You could actually speak to her without feeling like you were going to explode with anxiety, instead wanting to explode with affection. The pair of you had developed a habit of sitting next to one another, and after every meeting you would hang around after everyone else had left, caught up in conversation. Those small moments were such a safe space, they felt electric; you felt like you could tell her anything and she would listen. And vice versa.

Well. Almost anything.

The two of you were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the gym floor, facing each other. You couldn’t even remember how long ago everyone else had left.

“I dunno, I just feel like this is the first time I’ve had actual, real, friends in school, you know?” Hazel said. The sadness in her eyes and twitch in her brow made you want to scream, to grab the shoulders of anyone who didn’t want to be her friend and ask what the fuck was fundamentally wrong with them.

You nodded sympathetically.

“Me too. I mean, I love Brittany and Isabel, but we didn’t even talk about anything that wasn’t cheer or schoolwork or petty relationship drama until we joined the club. Now we talk about real things.”

“That’s so great,” Hazel said softly, turning your insides to mush.

“You’re so great,” you breathed out quickly, gently placing your hand on her leg before you could think. You cleared your throat, drawing your hand back and placing it back in your lap, clasping your hands together.

“Thank you,” she said your name, and you fought the urge to melt into the floor at the way your name passed through her lips.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you both whipped your heads to see who it was. PJ wandered in, and you stiffened.

“Hey, I left my backpack.” She jogged up, grabbing it off the ground and swinging it onto her shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, possibly a little too defensively.

“Yeah, just talking,” Hazel said, standing up. You basically deflated with disappointment.

“We still on for tonight? I really need some help,” PJ said to Hazel expectedly, and she nodded in response.

“Yeah, for sure. See you later,” she smiled at you, and you tried to hide your disappointment.

“Bye guys,” you waved, waiting until they left to lay down on the floor and groan.

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

“PJ, you’re a liar!”

“Yeah, well, you have no friends and a skank as a mom, so…”

The pain on Hazel’s face was evident. She looked like a kicked puppy. Your blood boiled. How dare PJ say that, after everything Hazel had done for her? Enough was enough. You shot up, stalking over to PJ, rage burning inside of you. With one swift movement, you swung your fist right to the centre of her face, knocking her clean onto the floor.

It suddenly dawned on you what you had done. All of your friends watched in shock, mouths hanging open. Nervously, you turned around, Hazel gazing at you in shock.

“I-uh-“ you stuttered, utterly humiliated. Before you could apologise to PJ for taking it too far, before anyone could say anything, Hazel darted off, the doors shutting loudly behind her.

“PJ, I’m sorry, I-“ you stuttered out to the girl still laying on the floor, before taking off after Hazel.

“Haze, wait!” You followed her figure out the gym, down the hallway, around a corner, and into the toilets.

You entered, taking a deep breath. Hazel was leaning against the sink, chewing on her fingernails.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for. I know you don’t need me to stand up for you, and I know you like PJ, and that was so not my place, and-“ you said quickly. “I’m just really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me,” Hazel sighed. “You were incredible. I should be thanking you, really.”

“Oh.” You took a small step forward, hands clasped behind your back.

“I don’t like PJ, by the way,” she shook her head, chuckling. Your stomach rolled and dipped.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly.

“I just hear the way she speaks to you, and I don’t know, I think you deserve better than that,” you shrugged.

“I know I do,” she said, shuffling back and forth nervously. “I just always want to see the best in people, I guess.”

“I love that about you,” you said quickly, without thinking. Blood rushed to your cheeks. You were getting dangerously close to confessing the entirety of your feelings for her. She was the one who made you feel brave. Hazel looked away shyly at this, grinning. God, she was beautiful. You took a moment to admire her.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t be self-assured and brave at the same time,” you continued. “Really, I’ve always thought that you seem so confident.”

“I’m not as brave as I could be,” she said quietly, scanning your face. “As you.” She inched ever so closer to you. Her eyes were burning into yours, making you feel positively dizzy. “There’s so many things I wish I could do, but I just… don’t have the confidence.” Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke.

“Like what?” you asked, nibbling at your bottom lip. You didn’t even remember when you got this close to each other, all you had to do was lean forward just a bit and you would be-

“Oh my god, Hazel are you okay?” the door swung open, and you both jumped back.

“Y-yeah, thanks Josie,” Hazel replied, her adorable face reddening. “It was a wake-up call, if I’m honest.”

“Between you and me, PJ had it coming,” Josie said, placing her hand on your shoulder. You smiled at her gratefully. “Someone had to do it. I really think she’ll come to her senses and realise that she needs to treat you better, Hazel.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I don’t even care that much anymore,” she shrugged, stealing a glance at you. Your breath quickened.

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

It took a few weeks, but everything pretty much went back to normal. PJ was genuinely showing Hazel how sorry she was, appreciating all of the work she did for the club. You and PJ were fine, as well. You forgave each other. Meetings went back to normal, and you found yourself constantly grateful for the group of strong, brave, kind-hearted, supportive girls.

You were currently sitting on your bed, books sprawled out in front of you, ‘studying.’ Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely concentrating on science homework. Maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get a certain brunette out of the forefront of your mind. Particularly a certain near-kiss incident. You always presumed there was no way she liked you, that she liked PJ, but now you weren’t sure. Would she have kissed you if you hadn’t been interrupted? Your doorbell rang, and you sighed in relief at the distraction from your rumination. Being home alone, you went down your stairs, heading towards the door and opening it before checking who it was. Nothing could have prepared you to see Hazel standing there, looking incredibly nervous and incredibly adorable. She was wearing a back and white shirt paired with a black vest that should have been illegal to look that good in.

“Hey!” you said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “What are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?”

She grinned that smile of hers that you swear could cure any disease.

“Yeah, thanks. Just came to see you, if that’s okay? I know it’s a bit weird, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” You shook your head as she wiped her feet before entering, and you shut the door behind her.

“Just studying. So boring. I’m grateful for the distraction,” you chuckled. And you truly were grateful. It’s as if all your worries and anxieties about Hazel disappeared as soon as she was in front of you. Because it was just Hazel. Your Hazel. Your friend. And no matter what, you loved her. And you knew she cared for you, romantic or not. And that wasn’t going to change.

“Look, I-“ she started, taking a deep breath, and then beginning again. “I’m trying to be brave like you are. To say what I feel when I feel it.” Her voice was steady and even. You wanted to correct her, tell her that you don’t say what you feel, but she continued.

“And what I feel, is that I might just die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

Holy shit.

Instead of responding, you placed your hand behind her neck, both of your bodies moving in sync towards each other. The moment your lips met, you exhaled through your noses in sync. As if you were both saying, finally. Her hands found your waist as your lips softly grazed one another’s, testing the water. You parted your lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Kissing somebody new usually felt daunting as you learned to navigate it, but you had never felt safer. Hazel’s hands moved back and forth on your waist, as her tongue darted out ever so slightly. You moaned softly into the kiss, hands gently threading through the hair at the bottom of her neck. It was just as soft as you imagined.

You pulled apart for a moment, faces close to one another. Neither of you could contain your smiles. You vaguely wondered if it was possible to faint from feeling so many butterflies. Not being able to help yourself, you reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Wow,” you exhaled.

Hazel was the first one to move this time, crashing your lips together with more urgency this time. The kiss grew more passionate as you wrapped your arms around each other, yours draped around her neck, hers engulfing your entire back. It was as if you couldn’t get any closer, as if you were drowning and kissing each other was oxygen. Pulling apart ever so slightly, you gave her one last kiss, then another, because you simply couldn’t help it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You giggled, arms still draped around her neck.

“Me too,” she whispered, before kissing your forehead. God, could she get any cuter?

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, as you both began to move to get more comfortable on the couch, sitting beside one another.

“Yeah, are you kidding!?” she said dramatically. “But you’re like this hot, popular cheerleader, I never thought I’d have a chance with you!”

“I’m hot? Have you seen you?” you asked in disbelief.

She blushes a deep shade of red, mouth opening slightly as if she was going to say something, then closing it again.

“I didn’t even know if you were gay,” she eventually says.

You laughed.

“Don’t you remember the first time we fought? That was like, a sexual spiritual awakening. That was the gayest shit ever.” Hazel threw her head back and laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“I can’t ever forget.”

“Oh! Also…” you said, grinning from ear to ear, absolutely giddy with disbelief that this was actually happening. You pulled your top up slightly to reveal your ribs, where a small tattoo of a pair of interlocked scissors resided. You both laughed. Hazel’s cheeks reddened, and she stuttered.

“Well, I- I mean… maybe you want to be a hairdresser?” she laughed, eyes glued to the tattoo.

“God, that’s so hot,” she mumbled under her breath. “Can I?” she asked reaching out, and you nodded, heart lurching at her care for asking. She gently traced the tattoo, and you let out a shaky breath. She was barely touching you, and yet her effect on you was all-encompassing. Goosebumps prickled your skin everywhere, not just where she was touching you.

“Hazel,” you whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “You can take it off if you want.” Your voice came out shakier than you anticipated. Hazel gulped, nodded, then pulled your top off, your arms stretching up to help her. She tossed it on the floor, eyes scanning all of you as if she couldn’t quite take it all in. You were in a plain cotton bra, still wearing your cheer skirt, but Hazel made you feel like you were wearing the most expensive, fancy lingerie ever. You cupped her face, thumbing her cheek, before pulling her in for a kiss. You kissed her with less urgency this time, taking the time to explore each other’s mouths slowly and passionately. She pulled you onto her lap, so you were straddling her, her hands resting on your hips. You slowly began to move against her in rhythm, moaning into the kiss.

Hazel murmured your name against your lips, breathing shakily.

“I want- I- you’re so-“ she tried. “Jesus fucking christ,” she said as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair. Hazel began to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Whatever you want. Do whatever you want with me,” she whispered into your ear, and you quite literally nearly came right there and then.

“No, what do you want?” you asked, thumbing at her lip. She opened her mouth, sucking on your thumb before releasing it with a pop. You swore, she was going to actually put you into cardiac arrest. Despite this action, you could tell nobody had really asked her that before, and she was at a loss for words.

“I want to make you feel good. Is that okay?” you asked, instead of letting her answer.

“God yes,” she basically moaned, kissing you. Meanwhile, you pushed her vest off, making quick work of undoing the buttons of her shirt. You tossed the items on the floor, barely breaking your lips apart for a moment.

“Lay down for me,” you moved off her lap, letting her get comfortable. This gave you the perfect opportunity to run your eyes over her body. She was left in a soft black crop top and jeans. Looking down at her, her chest rising and falling, soft skin to die for, eyes wide with desire, lips plump from making out, it crossed your mind that you had never, ever, ever, seen a more heavenly sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out, moving to straddle her again, intertwining your fingers together above her head.

“You’re the most beautiful,” she retaliated, nudging your noses together. You both giggled, and you kissed her softly.

“Take the compliment, baby. I mean it,” you said, kissing her again, before she could respond again. Still holding one of her hands, you moved the other down her tummy, lightly tracing patterns on her skin. Her eyes fluttered as she bit her lip.

“Touch me,” she said. You smirked.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you chuckled, glad she was asking for what she wanted.

“Can I take these off?” you blinked at her, fiddling with a belt loop on her jeans.

“Please,” she said breathily, arching her back slightly. You undid the button, the zipper, then stood up so she could shimmy out of them, you yanked them off her legs a little too hard, your feet giving out beneath you as you stumbled backwards, landing on your ass on the floor in shock. You looked at each other for a second, before both bursting out laughing.

“Smooth,” Hazel said between loud laughs. “Really smooth. How did you even manage that?” she teased, getting off the couch, instead onto the floor with you, crawling towards you. Your eyes drifted down to her cleavage, then back to her eyes. You inhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” you teased back, as she moved on top of you, pinning you down.

“I feel like we’ve been here before,” Hazel mused, holding your wrists down.

“I’m definitely getting flashbacks,” you laughed. “Except this time, I can just…” you kissed her, a little sloppily, but neither of you cared because it was so hot.

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

The very next day, you and Hazel walked hand in hand into a club meeting, giggling and whispering to each other. You were the last ones to arrive, having gotten a little distracted in the janitor’s closet.

Everyone turned to look at the pair of you, all seemingly realising what was happening at the exact same moment.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!”

“You fucked! Finally!”

“You were so obvious!”

“Slay queens!”

A chorus of excitement engulfed you, as everyone crowded around you, hugging the pair of you. PJ included.

“I’m really happy for you guys. This-“ she pointed back and forth between you, then made some inappropriate gestures, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Thanks, dude.” Hazel smiled at her.

“Okay, let’s start!” Josie chimed, and you all sat down in a circle. You didn’t let go of Hazel’s hand for a moment. “As per our new protocol, we’re drawing names for pairings.” She held up a hat full of slips with all of your names on it, shaking it around. She stuck her hand in, swirled it around a little too long for dramatic effect. She drew a paper out, reading it aloud.

“Hazel!” You internally groaned. You didn’t want anyone else to get that close to your girl.

“And….” She picked another piece, reading your name out. You grinned.

“Are you game?” Hazel asked, and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Only if you are.”

“Are you kidding?” She leaned into your ear to whisper. “Any excuse to get you on top of me.”

#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #bottoms fanfic #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan smut

[lilislegacy]

Okay, I’ve been thinking about something lately

All the time I see people make statements about Percy that start with “Percy would never…”

Some examples I’ve seen: “percy would never kill someone/something in front of his mom” “percy would never yell at someone he loves” “percy would never get drunk” “percy would never let his child go to camp-half blood”

Now if you passionately believe one of those, hear me out. I’m not necessarily saying I disagree!

I’m saying… who would have ever thought Percy would torture a goddess and choke her on her own poison? And…. enjoy doing it? If someone had said that on tumblr pre-HoH, every single comment and reblog would have been “PERCY WOULD NEVER!!” I mean, who would have thought Percy would do a million things he’s done? He’s done some very not so ‘silly little guy’ stuff. He is an extremely complex character. In his own head and to some people, he’s sweet and fun and silly, but to many people he’s reckless and scary and dangerous. Some people see him as someone who’s very gentle and relaxed, but some people see him as someone who’s quick to get very angry and cause destruction. And the truth is, he’s all of it. It depends on his mood. Consistency does not apply to him in many aspects. He has consistent traits, like loyalty, humor, and bravery, but his actual actions and reactions are NOT consistent. I understand why we think Percy would never do certain things. We think we know based off of his past and his history with his mom, or with Gabe, or with Luke. And I’m not saying I think he would do those things, but unless he specifically states it, we can NOT, ever, infer what Percy Jackson might or might not do.

Like for instance, the drinking thing. I am not saying percy would be a big drinker, if one at all. And he probably does have an aversion to the smell of beer because of how the apartment used to smell when he was young. But we have no evidence that Percy associates all alcohol with Gabe. Alcoholic drinks aren’t just foul smelling hard liquors. There are a million different forms that you can consume alcohol in - some of which don’t even smell like alcohol, and barely taste like it. And in The Chalice of the Gods, it’s said that Sally drinks a glass of wine every night. And Percy thinks Sally hangs the freaking moon. So if his mom drinks, he definitely doesn’t believe that alcoholic beverages = the enemy. And here’s the thing, if Annabeth and Piper and Leo were all drinking and having a good time, like college students do, and they go “Hey Percy, come sit and have a drink with us!” there’s a very good chance that he’s so comfortable with his best friends, and just wants to let loose and be a college kid, that he wouldn’t even think about Gabe. He’d just be like “Sounds fun! Count me in!” But I don’t know. That’s the point. I don’t know. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. I truly think it could go either way. And even if he does drink, maybe he never - not even once - gets drunk. Maybe he’d drink in college and as a young adult, but when he becomes a father one day, he decides he doesn’t want his children to ever smell so much as a drop of alcohol on his breath, and therefore completely stops drinking. Or maybe he doesn’t ever like it, even in college. Or maybe he’s like his mom, and he and Annabeth just have a glass of wine with dinner. Who knows?

Not us. That’s what I’m saying. WE don’t know.

I’m not saying we can’t have headcanons based on what we know about him. I have a million. But the point is, I feel like we can’t try to pretend like we actually know what Percy wouldn’t do. As a fandom, we analyze him and his choices WAY more than he ever thinks about a single choice. He definitely does not think about his life and his actions as much as we do. (I’m not saying that he’s dumb or doesn’t contemplate his life and his actions, but he doesn’t nearly do it to the degree that we do.) Us, we pretend like it’s simple math. (Our first mistake, since math is consistent and full of rules, which is the exact opposite of Percy’s character.) We go “okay luke did this and gabe did this so therefore percy would never do this.” But Percy doesn’t think that way most of the time, especially not in heat of the moment matters. The only thing we 100% know about Percy is that he will always be loyal to his loved ones. But even then, we don’t know what that loyalty will look like. Is it sacrificing himself for someone? Is it murdering the enemy? Is it manipulating someone else? Percy lives in the moment. He doesn’t often think too much before he acts. He just acts. Whether it’s in a life of death situation, or his after school activity for the day. He is unpredictable, like the ocean. It’s one of his defining traits.

Honestly, I think that’s why annabeth is so drawn to him. With everyone else, she can read them super easily and know their next move. But with Percy, she has no idea. Which is frustrating to her, but also exciting. It’s a big part of her initial attraction to him. It’s also why many of us like him so much. We don’t know what’s coming next, and we never know what he will do in a situation. Like, how could we possibly know what he would or wouldn’t do when HE doesn’t even know? Half the time I don’t think Rick himself even knows.

We become so sure that Percy wouldn’t do something because we understand his character so well, right? But I think the truth is, the minute we become certain about what Percy would or wouldn’t do, is the minute we don’t understand his character at all.

Thank you for reading my analysis of Percy on why we can’t reliably analyze Percy

#the only thing we can predict is that he’ll be unpredictable #none of us know what he wouldn’t do #analysis #pjo analysis #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #sally jackson #piper mclean #leo valdez

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

[lisired]

waiting game

pairing: best friend’s dad!johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf au, age gap, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap yo mf willy!), orgasm denial, edging, half the fic is just johnny & mc teasing each other to death, oral (f receiving), fingering around people

summary: Your best friend’s dad is a smoking hot dilf seeking vengeance after you’ve spent the past couple of years teasing him, but it seems that you can’t handle a taste of your own medicine.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: ¼ of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

Time was something ironic to you. It flew by quickly when you were having fun, yet seemed to drag on when the moments were dull. If you had to give a prime example, it would be now.

This current moment, with you listening impatiently to the vexing sound of your clock ticking while counting down the minutes before you got to see Johnny again. You had a study date with your best friend - his daughter - in over half an hour, and you were beginning to wish that you hadn’t planned your outfit so far in advance. Now you had nothing to distract you from your throbbing heartbeat in the meantime. 

To say the least, every moment with Johnny was nothing short of thrilling, no matter how brief. He had the power to summon a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with a mere smile - unbeknownst to him, of course. As far as you knew, Johnny knew nothing of your silly little crush on him and you wanted to keep it that way. It was fun to imagine what it would be like if he reciprocated your crush, but that’s precisely all it was—your imagination. Hypothetical situations you could only fantasize about. You had to give yourself the tough reminder that he’d never be into his daughter’s best friend. He could never.

Still, you liked Johnny. He was friendly and though he told his dad jokes, he was funny. He was confident. He knew how to cook and he was smart, and you liked that he always knew how to direct conversation. You and Johnny talked sometimes, usually whenever you stayed for dinner, or breakfast. He had never let you feel invisible, or like you were invading a space that wasn’t yours. He welcomed you.

But of course, he was also smoking hot. Smoldering, even. You recalled the first time you laid eyes on him, when you were visiting your best friend and he was in the front yard, mowing the grass. Sweats and a tanktop. Hair stuck to his forehead like a second layer. Drenched in sweat as he battled the summertime heat. Sometimes you still wondered if he caught you gawking, whether it was when you first saw him looking like that or when he told you that he was your best friend’s father and not her brother.

(You were even more surprised to hear that he was in his forties. He could have passed for late-twenties, and you almost scanned his head for a sight of a single grey hair but decided that would have been rude).

Yet as attractive as he was in every sense of the word, there came again the rough reminder that he was equally out-of-bounds. It always slammed roughly against you whenever you daydreamed about him, forcing you to remember that there was a boundary between you both. You could not have Johnny. And even if he were to want you, he couldn’t have you, either. God forbid you thought about how unrequited this was.

None of that ever stopped you from liking him, though. In your heart, there was still an ounce of hope that maybe something could blossom between you, weeding its way through the cracks of the invisible boundary.

What were those cracks? Easy: temptation.

Like any other day, Johnny looked absolutely mouthwatering. He wore a satin shirt and dark jeans, brown hair parted and his skin gleaming beneath the kitchen light. You desperately wanted to make your move right then, but your best friend crashing into your arms forced you to remember why you couldn’t.

“Gosh, I missed you,” Jessica cheered as she wrapped her arms around you firmly.

“It hasn’t even been three days since you last saw me,” you replied amusedly, nonetheless hugging her back. Jessica wasn’t your best friend for no reason. She was closer to you than anyone else, even your own parents. She knew everything there was to know about you. You knew that you could tell her anything, but this was different. You’d rather take this one to the grave.

She rolled her eyes as she loosened her embrace and let you go, “Whatever. Three days, three weeks, it all feels the same,” she said dramatically, making you both snicker. “But for real, my dad was like, just making dinner. Wanna join us?”

It had smelled delicious all the way from the front door. But that was Johnny for you, with cooking being one of his favorite habits. You would feel bad about eating their food though, so you leaned towards declining.

As if he could hear your reply before you said it, Johnny chimed in from the kitchen, “I made your favorite.”

That shut you up before you could reply. Your mouth hang open then closed, and after a moment of self-debate you opened it again. “Shit, pass me a plate,” you’d have to be running a fever or replaced by a shape-shifting alien to turn down Johnny’s chicken Alfredo.

You rested your backpack for now, ignoring their laughter as you strolled inside the kitchen.

By the time dinner ended, Jessica had to unexpectedly leave, mentioning something about a work emergency that you failed to completely catch. You didn’t mind too much, of course. It gave you the perfect excuse to stay in company of Johnny, and you even offered to help him wash the dishes as a thank you for dinner.

“Thank you for helping me with the dishes. You didn’t have to,” Johnny said, stretching his arm to put one final dish away in the cabinet. His sleeves were rolled up so you eyed his biceps like they were the meal, but forced yourself to look away before he could notice.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after you made such a wonderful meal, sir,” you replied respectfully. In the same breath, it took everything in you not to let your eyes trail down his body. His shirt was unbuttoned, leaving all the good stuff out in the open.

“Don’t flatter me,” Johnny joked. “Do you know how to cook?”

You couldn’t stop your laughter. “Of course not. I’m a safety hazard in the kitchen.”

Johnny snorted, “Why do you say that?”

“Sir, my expertise extends to instant noodles - hardly even that. One time, I burnt them and nearly killed my microwave.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. He knew now to keep you at least six feet away from his microwave, maybe even forbid you from touching his stove or oven. He also thought about giving you lessons. “How in god’s name did you do that?”

“I forgot to put water in them!” You explained, tone laced with shame. “Even if I did know how to cook, my skills are no where near yours. You’re like, the cooking connoisseur. I can’t imagine you forgetting to do something as simple as putting water in noodles.”

“It was an honest mistake,” he replied sympathetically. “But I like hearing about it. Tell me more about your failed cooking escapades.”

“God, where do I even begin? Let me tell you how I got banned from contributing to Thanksgiving dinner,” you said, and went on to explain the whole ordeal.

The way Johnny was snickering at you, it was almost like your conversation had the Victorious laugh track - except his giggles were genuine and the frequency of them didn’t irritate you. He had a beautiful laugh, one that made you simper. It went without saying that Johnny found you entertaining. He knew that he could never drink anything as long as he was around you, in fear that you’d have him spitting out his drink at every funny comment you made.

Johnny also let his eyes linger on your frame. Never had he ever seen anyone make skinny jeans look as stunning as you did, and it helped that your body was highlighted. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but chalked it up to your imagination running wild again. There was no way in hell Johnny Suh was checking you out.

Little did you know, that was exactly what Johnny was as doing. He so desperately wanted to fuck you then and there, but resisted. The opportunity would surface some other day, and to be honest he wanted to see where things would go. You weren’t half as subtle as you thought you were but he was going to play dumb until you quit these little games of your own.

“I’m an excellent cleaner, though,” you added once you concluded your story. Your lips curled into a smirk for the most brief moment, yet Johnny still caught it.

He also didn’t fail to catch the flirtatious undertone. “Yeah? Is that how you secured an extra slice of peach Cobbler versus all your hungry cousins?”

“And siblings. And uncles. And don’t forget my aunt’s seventh husband. But yeah, you get it. Favoritism also goes a long way.”

Johnny was amused, to say the least. He was still stuck on the fact that you had practically just offered yourself as a housewife to him, although it wasn’t necessary. He could think of plenty other ways to use you, other ways that you could put in work for him. It was tempting, but he was more determined to make you wait. He wanted to bottle you up until you exploded, and only then would he bother to clean up your mess.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway ended your conversation abruptly. He seemed quick to wrap things up once he heard the car door lock. “That’s Jess. Thank you, again, for your help. You two are probably about to study now so have fun, and make sure to tell her I’ll be working in my study!”

So typical of Johnny to drown himself in work. A workaholic if you knew one. You were disappointed by the conversation coming to an end, then aroused by a thought in even less time. You knew that he had to be exhausted and could only think about letting him take his stress out on you, bending you over his desk and fucking you with his entire being.

Shaking the thoughts away, you replied, “I will.” Inevitably would you revisit them (or they would revisit you, rather), but for now you had to focus about studying with your best friend.

You weren’t slick at all, and Johnny wondered if you knew that.

In the following week, you had been coming over more often. That in itself wasn’t suspicious, but he noticed that your clothes became shorter by the day. Nothing completely out of line, yet he couldn’t help but catch how the inches decreased day after the next. He noticed that you became less shameless in flirting with him. At one point he thought that the only way you could be any more obvious was if you confessed the truth, but then you started lying to him. You made up silly excuses as to why you showed up when Jessica wasn’t there, and he had a different plan.

As always, excitement flowed through your veins when you walked through his door. You were always eager to see him, and even more thrilled to show off today’s outfit - one of your favorite skirts paired with a cute top. To be honest, you didn’t know why you were doing this when you had nothing but your intuition to support you, but something told you to dress nicely today.

It was no shocker that Johnny did too. His sleeves were rolled up yet again, muscles peeking through the fabric, and you could only wonder if you’d ever have the luxury of seeing him completely shirtless. Jessica had mentioned earlier inviting you and another friend to chill in the pool this Saturday, but that didn’t mean her dad would be involved. You could only hope, though you were pulled away from the thought when you heard him call your name.

Cluelessly you blinked, asking dumbly, “Did you say something?”

The presence of a smirk was on Johnny’s face for a sliver of a second. You had caught it, and felt your cheeks warm at the thought that you had been caught staring - much worse spacing out - at him.

He repeated, “I said, what’s it today?” And you flushed some more. You obviously knew that you had been over more recently, that was the entire point. But something about him acknowledging it was thrilling yet frightening.

“You say that like I come over every day.”

“It sure feels like it. You might as well keep a key and put some of your things in the spare room,” Johnny retorted. Your heart sank a little at the thought that maybe you really were overdoing it, and sensing a drop in your mood, he added, “Hey, I’m just messing with you. How may I help you today, princess?”

Princess. He had no clue, you could be such a sucker for pet names. You didn’t even know if it was the pet name itself that had your knees wobbly or how it sounded rollling off his tongue, but you didn’t care. You were losing your mind and hardly covering it up.

You cleared your throat. “I left my notebook here, and I just wanted to pick it up.”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. “Jessica said that she dropped it off at your place this morning.”

Well, that backfired. It was true that you had left your notebook, and intentionally, but it wasn’t apart of the plan for Jessica to bring it back to you. Now you could only play dumb and pretend that you hadn’t known about it.

“Oh, um,” you were caught, and damn Johnny’s suffocating gaze for not helping at all. You felt like wilting beneath him while he stared at you like that - cynical and inscrutable.

Instead of giving you time to form a reply, Johnny only walked forward, and you had no where to run but backwards, until your rear hit the wall and you were grounded in place. “You wanna know what I think?” He crooned, hardly containing a laugh at how bewildered you looked. “I think that you haven’t been forgetting anything this whole time. I think that you wore this pretty little skirt, all for me.”

You gasped when his hand landed against your skin, raking up your thigh and underneath your skirt. In that moment, you were thankful that you had worn it. Johnny had complete access to your body, and you liked it. You liked how his gaze rooted you in place, still as though he would have somehow punished you for making any sudden movements. It was clear that you could have moved if you wanted, but even clearer that you liked the feeling of power he had over you. You wanted him to control you, to maybe push him to any surrounding limit to see just how commanding he could be.

“I think that you just want my attention, baby girl. Is that right?” He asked, as though he wasn’t feeling the answer. With his fingers circling your panties, you knew he was only asking for any other reason than confirmation.

You whimpered, “Sir, please.”

“Please, what?” Johnny questioned, playing clueless. He knew what you wanted. He had definitely known much longer than expected, you realized. All those times where you were so obviously flirting with him, he was choosing to play dumb and ignore your antics.

“Please touch me,” you begged.

Johnny smiled softly - condescendingly - but he still wore that fake confused expression on his face, “I am touching you though, aren’t I?”

Fuck, were you already getting tired of this. He knew damn well what you meant by touching you, and this wasn’t it. You wanted more. You wouldn’t care if he manhandled you right now, you just were in desperate need of his contact so then, and only then, would you be satisfied.

You could sound no more desperate as you whined, “Sir, please, I need more.”

He only laughed - dead in your face. “I don’t think that you deserve it.”

“I’ll do anything,” you knew that you sounded pathetic, but you had been waiting far too damn long for him to be teasing you like this. You couldn’t think of one reason why you wouldn’t deserve it, but there was already a mental list brewing of things you were ready to do to convince him. If a blowjob was what it would take, you’d be on your knees in an instant.

The offer tempted Johnny and he would be lying if he said that it hadn’t. But you had been teasing him for years now, and he wanted you to know how it felt when the tables were turned. If you were going to play games with him, then he was determined to beat you, to push you to every edge until you caved in to defeat. Johnny wanted you on your knees begging, and he was determined to have that. What better way to play than to give you nothing at all?

He liked the premise of you can look, but you can’t touch. There was no better way that he could punish you than by giving you a taste of your own medicine. Restraining himself was much more difficult than he had let on, but he knew you had half his patience at most. With the tricks he had up his sleeve, he’d have you caught inside his net in no time.

He tilted his head. “You want this?”

“Need it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Just as quickly, Johnny pulled his hand away from underneath your skirt, and therefore followed the little relief he had permitted you. An instant whimper fell from your lips, but it was clear as day that he didn’t care. His laugh mocked you, teased you, and you couldn’t fathom why he was playing with you like this. You wanted to ask him why he was toying with you, but he would beat you to any words.

“That’s too bad,” he replied, nonchalantly. “I want you to wait for it.”

You whined, “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

You didn’t realize how close he was to you until then. Nevermind how his eyes pierced holes through your skin and made you swallow hard, instantly making you regret saying anything. How you could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto you without him touching you - even if he practically was. How he towered over you and made you feel so much smaller in comparison to him, how he made you feel frozen in place with nothing but a mere glance. It was power. It was prominent in his eyes, whispering, You’ll do anything for me. You couldn’t tell if it was a simple statement or a demand, but it was true.

“Don’t you think that I’ve waited long enough?” His eyes were cold. You wanted to move backwards, but there was no escape. You were trapped beneath his gaze with no where to run. “Don’t be so selfish. You’ve been playing your little games with me for the past couple of years. Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

It was then that you realized what this was. It was revenge - sweet to him, yet so bitter to you. Karma really was a bitch.

You heard a car pulling into the driveway, and Johnny finally stepped away from you. “See you later,” a day, two days, a week - whatever amount of time defined the wait of later, it was too much. Call it greed. Call it selfish. But you just couldn’t wait. You wanted him. You needed him. Your body was yearning for touch, but you could feel nothing but cool air.

You needed Johnny now, and yet he refused to give himself to you.

It was finally Saturday, and you were nothing less than thrilled. The days in between now and the last time you’d seen Johnny felt closer to weeks and now that you had an excuse, you were going to be downright insufferable. As if you weren’t going to be insufferable either way. With the way things turned out during your encounter with him, you realized than instead of wallowing in defeat, you needed to play back harder. That meant leveling-up and making it known that you weren’t going down without a fight.

As you hoped, Johnny was also in the backyard. Jess had invited you and her crush Mark over for a pool day, and Johnny insisted on grilling for the three of you. You were ninety-nine percent convinced that you were half the reason, with him simply wanting to get at you - and that he did. He looked more mesmerizing than he usually did, sweat making his skin gleam, and it took you back to the first time that you’d seen him.

You shoved the memory into a dark corner in the back of your brain. Determination filled you to the brim, and you had just the trick up your sleeve to make Johnny lose his mind.

“Ready for the pool?” Jessica asked as you both stepped out onto the patio.

It was difficult to hide your smirk as you replied, “Born ready.” You had been planning this moment out for days, and you refused to let reality not match your expectations.

She rushed to get inside the pool with Mark, but you took your sweet time, waiting for the moment when you could feel Johnny’s eyes on you to drop the towel. It revealed a bright red bikini, and the look on his face when you glanced up to capture his reaction was worth a million bucks. He was looking at you like he wanted you, and that alone was enough to satisfy you.

Don’t burn the food, you mouthed cockily, just before sending him a week and diving into the pool with your two friends.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of mutual stares that lingered far too long, and by the time the day began to fade dull you had been in and out of the pool and Johnny had gone inside. With Mark and Jessica being equally sprung for each other it was easy for your third-wheeling adventure to begin, and you were yearning for more excitement, running out of battery from earlier’s thrilll.

Some time later, you all agreed to end the night here and Mark and Jessica decided to go on a walk before he went home. It being implied that you were going home, you all bid your good farewells to each other and headed out of the pool.

But when they left, there was Johnny standing on the patio, eyeing you as you stood by the edge of the pool. “Heading out?”

“I was,” you replied, but if he intended on staying out here then maybe you’d charge your mind.

“So not anymore,” Johnny smirked as he put the pieces together. “Let me join you.”

You shrugged, as a sign of not caring what he chose to do, in spite of the fact that your heart was racing. You sank back into the water, preferred it over the feeling of freezing air prickling your skin. Johnny’s eyes never left yours as he made move for the pool, but yours left his the moment he tugged his shirt above his head.

Of fucking course, he was ripped.

Feigning nonchalance was becoming difficult - your mouth watered and you could hardly stop your eyes from popping out of their sockets. To make matters worse, he looked even better in the water with his skin golden, water gleaming in the moonlight. The cocky look on his face proved he knew it all too well, and you were struggling now more than ever to restrain yourself.

“Bet you thought you were slick for what you pulled this afternoon.”

You smirked at the memory. Of course, you didn’t. The whole point was to provoke him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” Johnny groaned. It sounded hotter than it should’ve, and now you were ready to clip the conversation and cut to the action. “You walking around trying to provoke me.”

You retaliated, “I wouldn’t have to if you would just fuck me.”

It was clearly the wrong answer, you concluded from the way his eyes seemed to darken. He’d put you in your place right then and there if that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But it was, and Johnny knew that in spite of your front you were crumbling. It wouldn’t be very long before he had you bowing down at his feet.

He seemed calm, though the look in his eye was anything but. “I told you, you don’t deserve it,” Johnny replied patiently. You were a pain in the ass, but he still enjoyed making you wait. It was so obviously driving you crazy, and the day what little patience you had remaining dissipated, he was going to have so much fun with you.

“How can I earn it?” You asked meekly. It was slowly coming to you that Johnny had a resolve of steel, and it would take more than flaunty outfits to get under his skin. You didn’t know what to do and it was making you want to yank your hair.

“Behave,” he said, like you were a toddler. “And maybe I’ll consider it sooner.”

He was climbing out of the pool before you could even think of a response, and even when you called out his name he never turned around. You wondered what he was getting out of this. You knew that all your teasing played a major role, but it seemed to have the opposite effect of what was intended. Instead of wrapping him around your finger, Johnny walked further away from your spell. A part of you kind of liked it. Another part of you wasn’t sure how to adapt. Most boys came to you in a flock at the sight of skin, a little flirting here and there and they were your pawns. But Johnny was so much more complicated, and for once the instructions were unclear to you. You winded up frustrating yourself further instead in your attempts to frustrate him.

He was a puzzle with a million pieces and you couldn’t figure out how to put him together. A stranger you weren’t to challenges, but he was the toughest competition you’d face and the worst part was that he seemed to have you all figured out.

You always used to think that people were exaggerating when they expressed their desire for someone else. No feeling could ever be so strong as to tear someone apart that way. Yet now that you were in a position where something so close to you felt so far away, you finally understood. You finally knew what it meant to yearn for someone, and it was killing you slowly.

You craved Johnny. It didn’t matter if you were in the same room because he’d pretend as though everything was normal between you and you couldn’t fathom how he could ignore the tension so easily. Especially when it was all you could feel whenever you were in the same space together.

Next Friday was when things began to stir up. Jessica had invited you and Mark over for dinner and considering their obvious crush on each other, they sat beside each other. That left one seat remaining - the one across Mark, directly beside Johnny.

That’s how you landed yourself in this predicament. Johnny’s long fingers plunging in and out of you from underneath the table. It started with his hand simply resting on your thigh but then he started rubbing circular patterns, until he inched between them and underneath your skirt. You were fighting back noises and expressions, yet in contrast he joined in enthusiastically on the conversation like there was nothing happening beneath the table.

“Johnny, they’re right there,” you whimpered when no one was watching. You were thankful that Mark and Jessica were so invested in one another, it decreased your chances of getting caught sneaking around with Johnny since they hardly paid full attention.

“Guess that means you’ll have to be quiet then,” he whispered without a care in the world. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You could only give a casual, slight nod. If you spoke, you were at risk of letting out moans and that was the last thing you wanted.

Johnny purred, “Good girl.”

Fuck, that was hot. If it weren’t for your two friends sitting at the table with you, you would have moaned right then. All the titles and names Johnny called you made your skin feel hot and made your desire for him multiply. It felt like a test on your patience and you were failing.

In his attempt to act as though nothing was wrong, Johnny asked to no one in particular, “Any plans for the weekend?”

Jessica didn’t miss a beat. She announced excitedly, “Mark and I are going bowling. He sucks and wants me to teach him.”

“I do not suck!” Mark instantly protested. “I got a strike once!”

“Once, as in one time,” Jessica giggled.

Any other time, you would have leaped at any opportunity to tease Mark, but you couldn’t even focus on the rest of the conversation. Johnny’s fingers felt too good inside you, reaching impossible places with precise angles. You couldn’t lie, he did a magnificent job at pretending he was completely engaged in whatever conversation, but you could tell he had shifted most of his attention to you. Even without looking at you directly, it was almost like he could see your reaction and Johnny was determined to steer you right off of the edge.

Whenever a moan approached you, you bit your lip, hard. Or shoved a forkful of spaghetti into your mouth. Whatever you could do to prevent yourself from moaning. The brief glimpse of a smirk you saw on Johnny’s lips confirmed that he was enjoying this, but you couldn’t be mad. You were enjoying it too - especially considering this was probably the most you would get from him for a while, you could only be satisfied.

You were only snapped out of this trance when you heard your name called, snapping your head up in the direction of Johnny.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Huh?” Oh how familiar this situation had felt.

“I said, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Johnny reiterated, looking at you so normally that even you started to believe he wasn’t fingering you right now.

Oh, did you. If Johnny insisted on not fucking you any time soon, then you were going to have a good ole time with your pal, your vibrator. You couldn’t exactly say that though, and even if you could you wouldn’t dare speak more than three words at once. Not when you were so close. So you opted for simply shaking your head.

“Perfect. With Jessica gone I’ll need someone to help me repaint the walls,” Johnny joked, yet you could see right through what he was saying.

Jessica grumbled, “Dad, no. I told you I’ll help you when I get back.”

You forced your voice up as front as you could, “I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyways and,” you fought the sound back into your throat before you continued, “-and it’s the least I could do after leeching off you guys.”

“You’re not a leech,” your best friend reassured. “But if you really want to help him then suit yourself.”

If only she knew you couldn’t care less about the walls, not when you were focused on a completely different type. You wanted Johnny to paint your walls, simple as that.

Conversation didn’t die, but neither did the feeling between your thighs. They were trembling as you approached your orgasm, and you could feel it creeping up on you. You were about to duck your head to hide the pleasured expressions on your face until you couldn’t feel it anymore.

You nearly whimpered, staring at Johnny with only shock. It wasn’t really surprising considering everything that had happened since that day, but you were disappointed. Johnny kept dropping you off before you got to your destination, and you were sick of his teasing and being unable to do anything about it.

“Sorry, princess,” Johnny murmured, but he didn’t look the part even slightly, with a grin playing on his lips. “I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow.”

You guessed you could wait one more day.

730 days.

365 days.

2 weeks.

The countdown was done. The stalling and wait was over. The amount of days you had been waiting for this one specifically you had no clue, but none of that would matter to you anymore once you finally tested on your tongue the sweet taste of victory. You were ready.

You could feel nothing but nerves and exhilaration, but you liked it. You liked how you weren’t sure if you were breathing when you rang the doorbell, but you knew that you weren’t the moment Johnny opened the door. If you had a quarter for every time Johnny had left you breathless, you’d be rich. You couldn’t fathom how a man could look so attractive, and it wasn’t like he always put extra effort into it like you sometimes did. It was something raw.

Johnny smiled when he saw you. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied. You sounded relaxed, although you were anything but calm. The mere thought of the events bound to happen in the following moments had you overjoyed.

Johnny let you inside and shut the door. You didn’t get far down the hall before he pinned you back against the wall, the way he did the last time you had been in this scenario. But you knew the outcome would be different this time.

His stare was still hard and deep, but his grin never left. “Ready to paint some walls?”

Damn the walls. You weren’t even remotely concerned about anything that wasn’t on Johnny or in between your legs.

You held his gaze and smiled back as you joked, “Isn’t that your job?”

“I see you brought your jokes with you,” Johnny observed. Then his hand scooted underneath your skirt and squished your thigh. “And another pretty skirt.”

Melting into the warmth of his touch was your only option. You were so starved that you weren’t sure if the smallest touch was enough to get your gears in motion, or if your greed for more was insatiable and it would never be enough. Though it was certain that you wanted him, and concluding from the way Johnny was eyeing you like you were his prey, the feeling was mutual.

His hand crawled closer in between your thighs and the whole time you felt as though you were holding your breath. Johnny had a way of effortlessly making you defocus on anything that wasn’t your desire for him. You weren’t concerned about what was right or what was wrong. You weren’t concerned about the consequences. All you cared about was feeling his skin on yours and meeting him inside of the sheets.

“Just for you,” you murmured, somewhere on the verge of breathless. Johnny knew you weren’t lying or saying things just to make the moment. With your history, it was easy to believe you had picked it out especially for his taste.

The skirt was a personal favorite of Johnny’s. He had never stated it outright, but the way his eyes were constantly on you was more than enough confirmation. Of course you would use your speculations to your advantage - the moment had been dragged out enough and by now it was established that you were beyond impatient.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Wanna show me what’s underneath?”

More than anything. You wanted to lift up your skirt right then and there. Instead, you opted for nodding your head, unable to come up with any words let alone a sentence. 

Johnny took no time to toss you up in his arms. He carried you into his bedroom and launched you onto his sheets, eyeing you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, princess,” he cooed.

For once, you had no smart reply - you just let him move on his own accord. You could feel the tension in the room soaring as he crawled above your body, silent and sly as he slithered between your thighs. Johnny could feel his mouth water as he pushed your skirt up, finally getting a full view of what was underneath. Your panties - pretty, lace, and blue (and drenched.)

He pushed them to the side. “Did you wear these for me, too?”

He honestly didn’t even have to ask. The two of you had been down this road before and it was simply a given that you dressed to impress him particularly. Keeping in mind his favorite color plus how much he fancied your wardrobe on you came naturally when you were this desperate.

You nodded again, then asked, “Do you like them?”

“Love them, baby. You look so pretty in blue,” Johnny murmured. His distracted fingers teased your folds and made your breath hitch. You were already wet, but his touch had you melting into a puddle on the mattress. “You ready?”

There was no hesitance in your voice as you whined, “God, yes.” The moment had already been dragged on too long and though you understood that Johnny would probably want to take his time with you, you needed things to pick up the pace, even if just a little.

“Good, because I wanna taste you.”

Johnny pushed your legs out a little more to give himself the room to roam between them. Then he started with pecks to your inner thigh, gentle and sweet and arousing. As if you weren’t aroused enough already. He admired the way your folds glistened with wetness - he knew that you most likely assumed he was taking his time out of being hell bent on teasing the life out of you, but that was only half of the truth. You were just so pretty that he wanted to savor the moment forever.

His tongue teased back and forth over your slit, almost tentatively as though he was only taste-testing you. When you needily bucked up your hips with a whimper, Johnny decided to quit his games and went in for the kill. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, slow enough to pay attention to detail yet fast enough so that you weren’t left hanging. You bit your lip when you felt him on your flesh. It didn’t subdue your sounds completely, but enough to where Johnny could tell that they were being muffled.

He drew back, dissatisfied by your lack of volume. “Don’t bite your lip. No one’s hear with us so I wanna hear you.”

You were a little dazed when you nodded, present physically yet mentally beginning to tune out. His lips distracted you, coated with a glossy layer of your slick. Minutes ago it was an image that had only seemed to exist when you closed your eyes, imagining this moment as you had longed for its arrival. Now it had become a reality and you were beyond blissful. You wanted to freeze time and prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.  

The only thing capable of sucking you back out of your mind was the feeling of Johnny’s lips reattaching themselves to your skin. You couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from your mouth then even if you tried, caught off-guard as you were absorbed in your head. You could feel the smug grin dashing upon his lips but it was hard to care when he was practically sucking the life out of you. This was all you had ever wanted and needless to say Johnny didn’t disappoint not one bit. He was everything you imagined he’d be times two.

“F-feels so good,” you stammered. There was nothing to fake even if you wanted to, it genuinely felt good and he was serious competition for anyone that had ever gone down on you before. Your brain felt clouded and your skin felt hot and you liked it. Loved it.

Johnny would have been insufferable with the dirty talk if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was currently preoccupied between your thighs. You could already hear the words he’d probably say if he didn’t have a mouthful of pussy, “Yeah? You like that, princess?” Oh, and the never-ending pet names. You were usually fond of them, but he made them seem next level. Maybe it was his voice or some other factor, but you knew that you were attracted to it regardless. 

On his end, Johnny was absolutely wrecked on you. From the way he’s going down on you, with an eagerness that only a starved man could possess (and in a sense, he was one), it’s no secret, either. With how well he managed to hide his desire it got difficult for you to remember that he wanted you as much as you did him, and that was an unsafe amount.

You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you steadily. Your gut was practically screaming it at you, and god you couldn’t wait to cum on his tongue. Every day after the next wasn’t simply edging, but plain orgasm denial. Today was the day the torture was meant to stop.

“Close,” you moaned, as if it weren’t obvious enough, “gonna cum.”

He hummed a muffled, “Yeah?” Johnny knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. Aside from the sensation tearing through your stomach, all the outwardly noticeable clues were the tremble of your thighs and the sounds you made. Though much to your misfortune, the next would be of disappointment instead of delight as he moved away from you yet again.

“Sorry, baby,” he for once sounded decently apologetic. “But I want you to cum when I’m inside you.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, although you didn’t have to. Johnny was set on his goal the moment he brought you into his bedroom.

“Trust me, I am. Come here.”

Your movements showed no hesitation as you crawled onto his lap. His lips latched onto your neck and aroused a subtle, soft gasp of surprise from you. You made no attempt to fight his actions though, his hands attacking your skin simultaneously as he tugged at the remaining articles of clothing. As his fingers went for your bra, yours came for his own clothes, unbuttoning his top and slipping it down his shoulders.

Johnny chuckled with amusement at how eager you were. Nevermind himself; he was pinning you back down against the mattress roughly, lips attacking your flesh as his hand slinked beneath your skirt. It wrenched your panties down your thighs and found your clit seconds later, meanwhile his mouth was practically glued to your skin, sucking at your chest, neck, and collarbone. Your neck was most likely covered in hickeys and you knew that, but it felt too good to get concerned over. You figured Johnny would probably have wanted to see them anyways.

The sounds you made each time were cute, but only made Johnny yearn for more. He was going to be an animal the moment he got inside you, wild, untamed, and hunting.

Johnny drew back one final time, knowing what he wanted and that he needed it now. He rummaged throughout the drawers of his dresser swiftly.

You crooked your head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Finding a condom. Practicing safe sex. Unless, you don’t want me to wear one. I’m clean.”

At that, you were chewing at your bottom lip. Your mind was filled to the brim with dirty scenarios you had thought of before, Johnny cumming inside and making you feel full. You knew the sex would be good either way, but damn it, your imagination had won today.

“I’m on the pill. You can go bareback, if you want,” you murmured, in your attempt to appear as though you hadn’t daydreamed about him fucking you raw.

And of course, he saw right through you. But he only grinned smugly and replied, “Say less. Get on your hands and knees.”

As expected, you took no time to comply. You crawled into position as soon as you heard the command, resting on your palms and knees with your back in an arch. Johnny grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath you, ensuring your comfort first. “You good, baby?”

You nodded. “All good.”

Johnny hummed. He positioned himself behind you not much longer, one hand clutching your waist and the other holding his dick as he then slid inside you. The two of you sighed out immediately in relief - you could feel his grip on you tighten the moment he entered you, and he heard the moan you chirped. There was no doubt that the little waiting game only made this moment better for the both of you, wanting each other in a way that was incomparable to any other feeling you’d ever experienced.

“Fuck, so b-big,” you stammered. You were as aroused as you could have possibly been, but Johnny still had a size you knew would leave you breathless once you saw it through more the print against his pants.

Easing in and out of you, Johnny cooed, “Dick too big for you, baby?” He wouldn’t pick up his pace until he was sure that you were entirely comfortable, and would give you the time to adjust if you needed it. He wanted you to enjoy this as much as he would.

You shook your head. “N-no, I can take it.”

Johnny sported a grin, proud. He whispered, “Good girl.”

He had dreamed of moments like this. Moments where it was just you and him, shutting the world out as you felt each other as closely as you possibly could. Moments where he was pressed deeply inside you, making you moan from every thrust. Moments where he would finally taste a slice of the heaven he had wanted for much longer than he could identify. Johnny had known you wanted him since before a couple of weeks ago. Before that evening in the kitchen, before he confronted you in the hallway, and way before your pool shenanigans. You had always been anything but subtle, and even if you weren’t particularly as bold as you were now, there was always a subconscious ache for him in you that he couldn’t help but sense. You didn’t know it, but you just couldn’t hide your lust.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well, just like you said you would, princess,” he whispered. That was all it took to make you weak. You were too dazed to tell for sure, but you knew you had probably moaned a little at his praise.

You pushed any other thought back into the spider-y corner in the deep shadows at the back of your brain. Thinking about anything other than Johnny and how he felt between your legs was nearly impossible, and you were relaxed in a way that you hadn’t been in a while. He was just so easy to melt into, someone that made you forget about every other minor and major problem and consequence you’d eventfully have to face.

While he was pounding you from behind, Johnny brought his hand right back underneath your skirt and to your clit. You weren’t surprised that he hadn’t taken it off since he was always unsubtle about his favoritism towards it, and he thought you looked lovely like this.

You whimpered needily, “Johnny.” His fingers were fast at work on you, and in the most positive way possible, you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“You feel so good, baby girl,” Johnny growled. If anything that only made you want it more, although you already him and he had you.

Sex with Johnny was already better than either of you had ever imagined. There had always been this picture in his head, but now that he could feel you taking every inch of him, he wanted to heighten the feeling and surpass the limits. It was the same for you — your fingers and vibrator could never compare to the feeling of having him inside your walls. He was driving you crazy and you were driving him even crazier.

Even if once was already know risky enough, you were already fantasizing about the next time. You were determined that you could do this “under wraps” thing with him if it meant that you could recreate this feeling again. It was too good to pass up, too good to only have once. There was something so intoxicating about how Johnny felt in you, and how he made you feel generally. Being underneath him alone was somehow one of the most pleasurable things you’d ever felt.

Keeping things under wraps, however, was going to be easier said than done. Not only did it mean keeping this a secret from your best friend, you couldn’t afford to have anyone else find out. But with how the bed creaked, and you were moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to know what was happening in his bedroom, you were going to need more than a good excuse. You could only hope the walls were thick enough to subdue most of your sounds. The only sounds audible in the room were skin-slapping, moans and grunts, heavy breathing and you swore that you could hear your heartbeat in your brain. You wondered if Johnny could hear it too, or if the banging in your chest was something that only you would be able to pick up on.

The force of Johnny’s thrusts knocked your body forward, enough to cause your face to crash into a pillow. He went at a tolerable pace - not too slow, yet not too fast - and yet, your heartbeat was racing. Maybe it was all the action unfolding around you, or maybe it was simply the exhilaration making your blood feel as though it was zipping throughout your veins. Whatever it was, you knew that you liked it.

There was nothing to not like — Johnny fucked you too good for that. It hadn’t surprised you not even a bit, but Johnny was better than anyone who had ever been between your thighs. He was relentless. The pressure your body felt right then was enough to make you implode.

That was when you could feel it approaching again. It was louder, even more prominent, and you were desperate for Johnny to make you cum. Now that you had finally proved to him that you deserved it, you would snap if he edged you even once more. You were tired of being denied pleasure, and you knew Johnny was tired of denying himself the sweet victory.

“C-cumming, Johnny please,” you begged, plea half-muffled into the pillow. You weren’t above it, not when your orgasm was in arms reach. Johnny had tamed you, and whatever shame or face you had to save was discarded ages ago.

“Fuck, yeah? Hold on,” he muttered.

Johnny changed your positions, moving from behind you to above you, and you underneath him. You glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what prompted the change.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Wanna see your face when you cum, baby girl.”

That made your heart flutter.

It was always painfully obviously when you were far from it. As long as whoever was fucking you was doing a good job, there was never a need to question it, and Johnny was doing a phenomenal one. Never had anyone had you as weak as he did and it was dangerous. You were addicted; and now that you were hooked, it was possible for you to take more of him than was safe.

Yet you couldn’t be bothered. Not now, not when you were so, so close to having it all. You didn’t care what was too much, because it didn’t seem like there was even a such thing as enough. You were on the brink of an orgasm, thighs trembling yet again and your face twisting with pleasure. Johnny hissed at how you were clenching around him, tightening his hold on your hips. He wasn’t at all very much far behind you.

“Johnny,” you cried out.

He leaned low, peppering kisses to your neck. “I got you, baby. Cum for me,” he crooned, almost as breathless as you were.

Moans tumbled from your mouth as you did exactly that, wounding your nails in the bare flesh of his back. Johnny was set off only moments after that, either by your expressions or how you were relentlessly clenching around him, painting your walls with his cum as he groaned sexily into your ear. You couldn’t move, barely even breathe as you rested against your sheets. Your chest rose and fell quickly, but Johnny kissing your skin soothed you; it made everything feel okay.

“How do you feel, princess?” He cooed beside your ear.

You answered through a shallow breath, sporting a grin as you replied, “Full.”

Johnny murmured, satisfied, “Good.” He was showing the utmost appreciation to your body and skin, kissing you and holding you and treating you so gently. It was like being beside him alone made the whole world disappear. He was still inside you, softened up, but he wanted to wallow in this feeling a little longer.

“We’ll do this again, right?” You asked. Maybe it was a little desperate, but you needed to know.

“Of course, baby girl. You thought we did all that waiting just to go one time?”

No, you wanted to say. It wasn’t that you had, but Johnny was unpredictable whenever he wanted to be. You needed a little confirmation, just to be safe.

Instead, you opted for shaking your head. “Will you make me wait again?”

“No,” Johnny shook his head back, “not unless you decide to be a brat again and need to be punished. Think you can be a good girl for me, babe?”

You smiled softly, bobbing your head. The last thing you wanted was to be put through that torture ever again, and if all it took to never experience it again was submitting to Johnny, then it was say less.

You had that out of the way. Johnny was accessible to you, and you to him. There was one small conflict now, you remembered as his phone began to ring, with the caller ID being daughter.

There was still another game that you both had to play; hide and seek.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny x reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny suh smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

[where-dreams-dwell]

*spoilers for One Day*

For people saying ‘it’s tragic, Dex and Em only got 3 years together’ no. They got 15 years together.

Glossing over the span of their life together to sum it up as ‘only 3 years together’ misses all the love and time they had together that wasn’t solely romantic.

Why is their relationship only ‘important’ or ‘counts’ when it’s a romantic one? Maybe there was always romantic love buried in there or growing steadily but there was a whole lot of platonic love there too.

For 15 years they were the most important person in the world to one another, they described each other as their ‘best friend’ and the person they reached out to at every high and low moment. And for the last 3 of those years they were also a couple.

There are loads of examples of Dex reaching out to Em when he’s at his lowest: the last birthday with his mum, then he’s reeling from his divorce, when he’s scared people will hate him on TV. And you *could* read that as pathetic and Em being his emotional crutch, with Dex latching into her. But you could *also* see that as when you’re struggling and low, you just want your best friend. Because they *get* you. And part of being a best friend is being there in those low moments.

And Em has done the same with Dex, just in different ways. That first year out of uni Em had no idea what she was doing; in a job she couldn’t wait to leave, a relationship that didn’t make her happy, not sure where she was going in life or what she was doing. Em writes to Dex often, and doesn’t need him to reply to her, just to read her letters and be *her* emotional crutch and person to vent to.

Even at that breakup-dinner, Em has things she ‘needs to talk about’ and she’s reached out to Dex to do it. We don’t see her discussing it with Tilly, we see her trying to talk about it with Dex. She’s at arguably her lowest moment (hates her job, hates her partner, hates her home) and she wants her best friend to listen to her. Just like he did when she was 24 and thinking about giving up and leaving London, and Dex convinced her to stay and keep going.

So they are emotional crutches *to one another*. That’s also part of being someone’s best friend.

And for all the low moments Dex also wanted to share his best moments with her too: when he’s excited about the TV pilot he calls Em to say ‘the only person I want to share this with is you’, and begs Em to find a way to be there. Yes this is also him dismissing and ignoring her achievements, yes this is self absorbed and rude and at the height of his egomania, but in that moment of triumph he only wants his best friend there with him.

When they see one another again at Tilly’s wedding Em is brave and self assured when she reveals she’s ‘thought of you every day, missed you every day’, and that even though they are friends again now the fact that Dex will have a wife and child ‘feels a bit like loosing you all over again. Because people with families have different priorities…’ That’s how close they were before.

The sentiment that ‘we grew up together’ is really true, for the both of them. They were very different people throughout their lives, and if they had tried to be a romantic couple earlier there is no guarantee that version of them would have lasted the course.

Would Emma have stayed with a peak-of-his-tv-fame Dex, partying and living life ‘to the full’? Or would they have explosively ended and decided they were too different for one another for it to ever work?

Would Dex have even tried for a career in TV or a full year of travelling if he’d become a couple with Emma after Uni? Or would he have done something else but grown resentful of what-could-have-been?

If they had sorted out their issues and apologised after their fight and Em had left Ian, would Em have found the strength to turn rock bottom into a spring board and finally write her book? Would she have even hit that bottom at all? Or would the hook have remained a pipe dream while she continued as a teacher, happy with Dex but professionally unfulfilled?

We will never know what could have been, and that doesn’t necessarily make those alternatives the ‘better’ option that they ‘missed out on’.

Maybe they would only ever have had 3 years together as a couple and getting it in their mid 30’s the way they did was their most mature and peaceful version.

So yes at times their relationship feels like it’s moving toward the inevitable conclusion of a romantic partnership. But the time before they get there wasn’t wasted or unimportant or unnecessary. And they were always together.

#one day netflix #one day #emma morley #dexter mayhew #friendship #platonic love #romantic love #star crossed lovers #I just get frustrated when people boil ‘they always loved one another’ down to ‘oh so it was romantic from the start and never changed’ #like bitch the power of friendship?? #the bonds of brother/sisterhood and all that jazz #to say nothing of platonic soulmates #or love that changes and grows #spoilers

[celiastjamesoscar]

No Hard Feelings

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Tara makes plans with you to go to dinner and watch a movie, but she forgets and can’t go. So she sends Sam in her place

Warnings: slight spoiler for No Hard Feelings (small scene, no significance to plot), light cussing, mentions of Ghostface attacks

Read part 2 here

Word count: 7.6k

Tara sat on the floor of her and Sam’s apartment with a mountain of papers spread around her. To her demise, her past self thought it would have been a good idea to put off her month and a half project so she could-in her words-"be older so, therefore, wiser,” and she would get a better grade on it. Now, her present self wishes she could go back in time and politely murder her past self, as she would have to stay up all hours of the night even to get a passing grade on her project. She could call Y/N and ask for help, but she knew that the girl was probably busy doing who knows what.

Since the move to New York City, Tara found it hard to make friends she could trust; the only real people she did trust were the Meeks-Martin twins, Anika, her roommate Quinn, Y/N, and Sam.

Tara met Y/N when she first moved to New York through Anika, as she was her roommate. Anika introduced her to the core four one night while they watched movies and swam at their shared apartment. When Y/N first met everyone, she immediately clicked with the group, except Sam.

Sam was naturally standoffish towards new people, especially Y/N. Sam didn’t know if she disliked the girl because she shared the same love for horror as Mindy, her undeniable charm, her beautiful features, or the fact she was a fucker that fed off of Tara’s little fucker energy. So together, they just become this giant mass of fucker energy that wreaks havoc on innocents. Sam tries her best to make sure that her and Tara are not left alone together-God only knows what mischief they would get up to if left unattended-but that usually meant she was the one keeping an eye on them. From dragging them out of karaoke bars to forcefully stopping them from shooting fireworks at each other, Sam has seen enough to know she wasn’t too much of a fan of Y/N.

On the other hand, Tara and Sam haven’t always had the best relationship (Sam left her for five years with her alcoholic mother), but they loved each other dearly, and everyone knew that. However, Tara does things to get under Sam’s skin for fun. For example: going to frat parties after Sam told her not to, getting too drunk at said parties, throwing up because of the alcohol after Sam specifically told her not to, waiting until the last minute to do projects, and the one Sam hated the most, trying to set her up with her friends. Tara would spend days writing out plans of setting Sam up with her friends, pouring hours she should have spent doing homework into Sam’s love life.

Sam found it funny how Tara and Mindy worked together to try and set Sam up with someone, even though she never went out with the people they set her up with. She also admired their dedication to it, but she would never tell them that. Tara would invite some of Chad’s football friends over for a game night and hope one would hit it off with Sam, but Sam shot down every guy. Eventually, Tara got fed up with it and asked Sam, “Are you ever going to give a guy a chance?” Sam just looked at Tara with the most trustworthy eyes as she spoke, “I’ll never give a guy a chance again.” And with that, Tara stopped trying to get Sam with men.

Since that conversion, Mindy had been Sam’s “wingman” in picking up women, and it was not going well. At all. They’d go to a bar every other weekend, Mindy would point out a woman that Sam might be interested in, and immediately get shot down.

“What about her, Sam? She’s pretty, plays the guitar, and keeps looking over at you?”

“No.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘no’?”

“No, she looks like she bites.”

“Biting can be good in some instances.”

“No.”

“Okay then, moving on. What about her-”

“No.”

And it continued like this until Mindy eventually had enough of it. “Dude, your sister refuses to give anyone I point out a chance! At first, I thought she was wary of getting romantical with someone because of he-who-shall-not-be-named, but now I think she’s doing it out of spite.” Mindy complained to Tara over a game of Uno one night.

“She’s not doing it out of spite; she’s doing it because she knows she’s getting set up.” Anika butted in while placing down a blue five. “You just need to set her up with someone without her knowing it’s a setup.”

And at that, Tara and Mindy shared a telepathic thought when their eyes made contact and simultaneously reached for their phones. Not reading the room, Chad threw down a blue draw two while standing up and yelling, “Uno!”

Mindy sent him a glare before speaking, “Do you want me to call her, or should you?”

“I’ll call her; just wait for me!” Tara exclaimed as she left the table with her phone in hand, walking about ten feet from the group before dialing Y/N’s number. Mindy and Tara’s plan began to hatch that night.

Tara would invite Y/N to the apartment everyday. She would even invite her over if she had somewhere else to be later that night, leaving the poor girl alone with either Sam or Quinn. Y/N was rather fond of Quinn; she enjoyed the redhead’s stories about her strange hookups and they played a very intense game of Blackjack on occasion. On the other hand, she hated being left alone with Sam. Sam would either not say anything or just glare at Y/N; she didn’t know which one was worse.

Sometimes when Y/N was over, Tara would excuse herself to leave her and Sam alone for long periods. Naturally, the two of them would sit in awkward silence while the tv played in the background. They would occasionally discussed what was on TV, but that never lasted more than four sentences.

Of course, Y/N was drawn to Sam: her beautiful tan skin that she sometimes dreamed of stroking, those beautiful brown eyes that reminded her of old brick libraries and vintage books she sometimes got lost in, and her protectiveness for her sister.

She's Everything. Y/N’s just Ken.

In the present, Tara groaned and rolled around the floor, “Why do I do this every time?” She whined while looking at her papers.

“I know; I thought you would have learned your lesson by now,” Sam joked as she watched her little sister dramatically roll around the floor. “I told you to spend at least twenty minutes a day working on it, but nope. You said you would be smarter by putting it off, and now look at you.”

Surprised by Sam’s words, Tara quickly sat up and looked at her sister before falling back onto the floor with an exaggerated groan. Sam rolled her eyes at Tara’s actions and sat on the couch. “What are you working on?” Sam questioned as she picked up a piece of paper with chemical formulas.

“I’m supposed to show what acid, like from soda, does to teeth. But I hate chemistry, and I’m seriously considering dropping this class.” Tara stated as she picked herself up off of the floor and stretched. As she was stretching, there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it. You just finished your project.” Sam said as she got up and walked towards the door, ignoring the slight grumble of words Tara let out as she sat back down on the floor.

As she approached the door, Sam looked out of the peephole, as no one in the apartment was expecting any guests. When she saw who was at the door, she uttered a small cuss word as she opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a gentle smile, “Tara and I have plans tonight to go to dinner and see a movie; I’m here to pick her up. Why? Are you jealous I’m here for her and not you?” She finished with a smirk that Sam wanted to smack off her face. She just scoffs at her words but lets her into the apartment.

Sam took in her outfit as she walked in: black dress pants, a black blazer, and a black lace strapless corset top. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume you and Tara had a date planned, which hurt her heart a little.

“Hey, Tara, you ready to… go?” Y/N asked as she looked around the living room and found scattered papers everywhere.

Tara looked at her with bug eyes before frantically searching for her phone. Once she found it, she checked the time and date, which resulted in her smacking herself on the forehead. “Oh my god, I am sorry, Y/N. I completely forgot about our dinner and movie night; I just got so wrapped up in my project.” Tara apologized as she stood up from the floor.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Y/N stated as she popped her head to her left. Sam noticed that Y/N does that whenever she’s upset or doesn’t like talking about something. Sam hates that she sees the little things that Y/N does: rubbing the back of her neck whenever she’s anxious, bouncing her right leg when excited about something, and picking her nails whenever she’s stressed. The list goes on of the little things Sam noticed about Y/N, but she’d simply defend it as making sure Y/N wasn’t lying to her about whatever she and Tara were doing.

“No, it's not. You’ve already bought the tickets and made the reservations for dinner. I don’t want it to go to waste because I pushed off this stupid project.” Tara complained as she turned towards the spread-out work. “Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“I’m serious, Tara. Don’t worry about it at all. We can go another time.” Y/N suggested. She didn’t want to see Tara upset over some movie tickets and a dinner reservation.

Tara sighed as she looked at Y/N, “But you’ve gotten all dressed up-you look amazing, by the way-and I don’t want it wasted.” Tara said as her eyes slowly drifted towards Sam, who was listening in on the conversation from her bedroom doorway, and a brilliant idea popped into her head. “Actually, what if I found someone to go with you?”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed at the question but told Tara to continue. She had no idea who Tara had in mind but hoped it wasn’t Sam. She could hardly stand to be in the same room as the movie. Let alone go on a dinner and movie date with her. Not a date, though, because Y/N would never think about Sam in a more than platonic way. No way at all.

“Uhh, sure. Who is it?” Y/N as she looked at Tara with wary eyes, already knowing who Tara had in mind.

Tara looked at Y/N with innocent eyes and a mischievous smile, “Sam will go with you.”

“Abosulety not,” Sam said as soon as her name left Tara’s lips, already walking back into the living room, “I am not going anywhere with her.”

“Sam, you are going whether you want to or not. You’ve been talking about going to see No Hard Feelings since the trailer came out, and now you can watch it; I’d be a bad sister if I let you pass it up.” Tara reasoned while staring at Sam with determined eyes. She has the perfect opportunity to force her two favorite people together, and she’ll be damned if she lets Sam wiggle her way out of it.

“Tara, please, it’s not that big of a deal. If Sam doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.” Y/N pleaded, hoping Tara would let it slide.

“Yes, I agree with it,” Sam stated rather dryly.

Y/N turned to face Sam and pointed at her before exclaiming, “Hey! Do not call me ‘it’! I have feelings and thoughts!”

“Yeah, feelings and thoughts of being a pain in the ass,” Sam said as she rolled her eyes at Y/N.

“I will fight you right here and now, Samantha!” Y/N declared as she walked towards Sam, invading her personal space.

“Don’t call me ‘Samantha,’ you fucker.” Sam stated as she pushed Y/N’s shoulders, causing the woman to stumble backward away from her. Y/N ignored how gentle the push was and fought the urge to smile at the thought of Sam not wanting to hurt her.

“Hey! Knock it off, you two!” Tara commanded as she stepped between the two women, even though she wanted to see how their ‘fight’ would end. “Sam, go get changed into a nice outfit. Y/N, you’ll help me with my project while you wait for Sam.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue with Sam, but Tara's glare caused her to close her mouth quickly. So instead, she sauntered into her room and looked for a decent outfit. “I’m going to shower and get ready; give me thirty minutes.” She called out from her room.

Y/N grumbled while sitting on the couch, waiting for Tara to give her instructions. “Why are you making me take her? I know that Mindy wants to see it. I can just take her instead.”

“Because, Y/N, you and Sam will have fun. You’ll go to a fancy dinner and watch Jennifer Lawrence in a comedy. It’s like the ideal date.” Tara said with a devise smirk on her face. Tara knew Y/N’s feelings for Sam and used that as leverage over the girl.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” Y/N said as she looked at Tara with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll just call Mindy and explain the situation to her.

“Wrong. I’m just a little guy, so I cannot be held accountable for my actions.” Tara informed as she sat down on the floor.

Y/N scoffed at her words and rolled her eyes, “You cannot use your size to justify yourself for being an asshole.”

“Yes, I can, and I will. Now shut up and help me with this.” Tara stated as she turned on the tv and picked out a movie for them to watch while they passed the time. Y/N looked up at the tv once the film began playing. “‘The Babadook’? Really?”

Tara knew of Y/N’s irrational fear of the Babadook and loved to tease the poor girl about it. They’ve had many arguments about the movie: Y/N claiming it’s the scariest movie ever to exist, while Tara defends it saying it’s a comedy movie. Y/N believed Tara had lost her mind. Tara believed Y/N was a baby.

“It’s my favorite movie. Why wouldn’t I want to watch it?” Tara questioned as she began working on her project while Y/N made zero effort to help.

Y/N scoffed at her words before uttering, “I’d stab someone too if they told me their favorite movie was ‘The Babadook.’” Tara playfully hit Y/N’s leg while rolling her eyes before returning to her task.

Tara told Y/N about the Ghostface attacks she and the core four survived after knowing her for a few months. Tara knew she could tell the girl anything and wouldn’t be judged. Y/N listened to Tara talk about the trauma her and her friends went through, and when Tara was done, Y/N lifted up her own shirt to show Tara where she had been stabbed in her stomach.

It was in the left lumbar region. Y/N had little cuts that littered her torso, but none went into her body besides the one. Y/N explained to Tara that she understood what she went through, as she was eight years old when Jill Roberts tried to murder her. The two bonded over their shared trauma of Ghostface stories and quickly used it to joke with each other.

As Tara worked in peace while watching the movie, Y/N sat away from the tv, refusing to watch it. They patiently waited for Sam while the annoying sound of Samuel’s voice could be heard in the background.

“I hate that kid; he deserves every bad thing that comes his way,” Y/N stated coldly, refusing to watch the tv.

“You just hate little kids,” Tara replied, turning her attention to Y/N. “You should check on Sam; it’s been over thirty minutes.” Y/N didn’t see the smirk on Tara’s face.

“So she can stab me? Yeah, no thanks.” Y/N shrugged. Sam could stab her, and she’d thank her, but Y/N would never tell anyone that secret.

“Just go check on her, you giant baby,” Tara stated as she threw a shoe at Y/N. And with that, the girl got up and walked over to Sam’s room, gently knocking on the door, hoping the woman was ready to go.

“Sam? It’s been over thirty minutes. Is everything good?” Y/N asked quietly, afraid Sam would strangle her if she spoke any louder. Not that she would complain: Sam could do almost anything to Y/N, and she wouldn’t complain.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a minute.” Sam called out from behind the door.

Not even a minute passes before Sam calls out again, “Could you help me with something? I’m in a bit of a bind.”

Y/N looks at Tara with wide eyes, silently pleading with the girl to intervene, but Tara does nothing but mouth “Babadook-dook-dook.”

Y/N flipped Tara off before replying to Sam, “Yeah. Of course. Just let me know when it’s okay for me to come in.”

Sam instantly replied to Y/N and told her to come in, so she did. Sam was facing a full-length mirror in the corner of her room. She wore a black dress with a leg slit on her right leg that wonderfully highlighted her curves. She wore black heels as well. When Sam turned to face her, Y/N was left speechless. The dress had a shallow dip that showed off Sam’s cleavage beautifully, and Y/N had to fight herself not to stare at the woman’s boobs.

Sam noticed the way Y/N stood straighter when she walked in. She saw the way her eyes refused to leave her own. And she noticed how Y/N wiped her palm on her pants, trying to get rid of sweat.

“I need help zipping up the back,” Sam admitted with a defeated tone, turning back towards the mirror.

“Y-yes, of course,” Y/N mumbled while approaching the goddess before her. She went to grab the zipper on the lower part of Sam’s back but accidentally bumped her hand against Sam’s ass, causing the woman to stare down Y/N’s eyes in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Y/N apologized while refusing to meet Sam’s challenging gaze.

She grabbed the zipper and gently began pulling it up. Y/N looked into Sam’s eyes through the mirror, and they held each other’s gaze until the dress was zipped up. The atmosphere was so full of tension that Sam swore Tara could feel it in the living room. Sam wanted nothing more than to throw Y/N onto that bed and make her her own, but she had to show some restraint as she didn’t wish for Y/N to get the idea that Sam liked her. She could hardly tolerate the girl, let alone care for her enough to want a relationship. No way at all.

Y/N let her hands linger on Sam’s back before whispering, “Okay, all done.” Afraid her voice would give out at any second. Sam slowly turned around to face Y/N; they were so close that their breath fanned each other’s lips.

“All ready?” Sam questioned, still making eye contact with Y/N.

Y/N nodded as she spoke, “Yeah, let’s go.” She wanted to stare into Sam’s eyes forever but quickly glanced away, afraid Sam could read her not so pg-13 thoughts.

They left Sam’s room and bid Tara goodbye before going to the apartment level. Once they had left, however, Tara quickly sent Mindy a message, telling her that their plan worked and that Sam and Y/N were on their way to dinner.

A month and a half ago, Mindy and Tara devised the “perfect, fool-proof plan” to get Y/N and Sam together. The plan was relatively simple: Tara puts off doing her project, makes plans with Y/N to go to a fancy restaurant and movies the night the project is due, and then bails because she hasn’t started the project. Tara had done her entire project in one night and stashed it in Mindy’s room, so now all they had to do was sit back and relax while their plan unfolded.

When they reached the ground level, Y/N walked out in front of Sam and held the door open for Sam as they walked out onto the street. Y/N gently touched Sam’s lower back and led her to her car. Sam ignores the way her touch shot sparks throughout her body. Y/N opened the door for Sam—which Sam scoffed at—but she climbed in nonetheless. Y/N walked around the driver’s side and got in.

The two sat in awkward silence while Y/N started the car. Her phone automatically connected, and the soft voices of Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus could be heard. Y/N looked over at Sam after pulling out onto the road. “You look beautiful.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.”

Sam refused to admit that Y/N’s words caused her face to heat up, and a small smile threatened to appear on her face. She’d never had someone call her beautiful before, but to hear that word fall from the lips of someone she wanted to strangle and kiss all at the same time, she thought her head might explode.

The two drove the entire way to the restaurant in silence; the only thing that filled the silence was their fast-beating hearts and the graceful voices of Boygenius.

When they arrived and walked into the restaurant, Sam had to clench her first, trying not to murder Y/N violently. The restaurant they were at was an upper-class one, and Sam felt out of place, borderline uncomfortable. She began fidgeting with her hands, and her eyes nervously darted all over the room. Y/N noticed this and slowly reached for Sam’s hand, hoping the girl would accept the lifeline, and she did. Y/N held Sam’s hand down by their waists as she approached the front desk. “Hello, I had a reservation for two under L/N.” She spoke politely to the hostess. The hostess quickly looked through her book before leading them to a small table set up just for two.

Y/N gently pulled out Sam’s seat for her and pushed it in once she sat down. Y/N then walked over to her seat and joined Sam at the table. The two looked at their menus silently, waiting for their waiter to take their order. A small but enthusiastic man approached their table, “Hello, my name is Matt! What can I get for this lovely couple?” He asked with a gentle tone.

“We aren’t a couple.” Y/N and Sam both stated at the same time while looking at the man. He seemed a bit taken aback but quickly recovered. After that, they both ordered their meals and watched the man disappear.

Y/N laughed to herself before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “he thought we were a couple.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N's comment but didn’t say anything in return; she knew arguing would have been useless.

“So, what do you do in your free time?” Y/N questioned as she leaned her elbows on the table, eagerly awaiting Sam’s response.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I would like to know you on a more personal level. I don’t like the level I’m on right now.” Y/N stated as she looked into Sam’s eyes, maybe sneaking a glance at her boobs as well.

“Fine, but you have to stop looking at my boobs,” Sam said with a playful smile as she called the girl out.

“I’ve only done it a couple of times!” Y/N defended with a blush on her face that Sam noticed. “I promise to stop looking. For now.”

Sam nodded and drank her water before discussing her interests, and Y/N listened. Y/N loved the sound of Sam’s voice and wished she could hear the woman talk forever. She had the kind of voice that could put sirens in a trance, and Y/N loved it.

The pair bonded over their love of nature and wanting to live in a cabin in the woods. They both loved reading and discussed their favorite books. As their food was brought out, Y/N brought up different scenario questions, and they went back and forth with their answers.

Talking with Sam was just as easy as breathing for Y/N, and Sam would hate to admit it, but she slowly felt herself loosen up around the girl. She could see now why Tara trusted her; she was easygoing, normally calm, and always had a good smile. Sam felt like she could trust Y/N with anything, which terrified her. She hated the idea of trusting someone that wasn’t a part of the group from Woodsboro, afraid that if she let anyone in, they would betray her. So, she began asking Y/N what her interests were; she wanted to know more about the girl in case she became a threat, and definitely not because she started to warm up to the girl.

Y/N talked about her love for horror movies, even though Sam already knew that. She mentioned her fear of the Babadook, and Sam found that hilarious (and cute). She even mentioned a “band” she was in with her friends.

“I play the guitar for my friend’s shitty band,” Y/N admitted with a slight frown as she picked at her food.

Sam noticed the slight frown and the way Y/N’s eyebrows turned down, “You in a band? I don’t believe it. Bud why do you sound so disappointed?” She questioned.

Y/N sighed as she looked up at Sam, “It’s not a band; we just do shitty covers of songs for fun. That’s about it. But we don’t do it as much anymore because we all moved to different states for college.”

As Y/N spoke, Sam felt her heart break a little when the woman mentioned how her friends had moved away from each other. Against her better judgment, Sam reached across the table and grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently, subconsciously rubbing her thumb on the back of Y/N’s hand, “I’m sorry about your friends moving, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes quickly shot toward Sam’s hand, and smiled at the contact. She wasn’t used to Sam being nice to her, so seeing this new side of Sam was interesting, but she slightly missed the grumpy Sam she had grown accustomed to. As Y/N admired how Sam’s hand squeezed her own, Matt quickly made his way to the table, a knowing smirk plastered on his face when he saw the women rapidly pull their hands back when they felt his presence. “Alright, ladies, how are we doing the check today.”

“Seper-” Sam began to say, but Y/N quickly cut her off.

“Together, please,” Y/N stated while looking at Matt, refusing to acknowledge the death glare sent at her from the end of the table.

“Okay, I will be right back with your check,” Matt said, hoping to leave the tension-filled area as soon as possible.

Once he left, Y/N looked at Sam with puppy dog eyes and gave her the most loving smile she had ever seen, which made her heart yearn. “When you told me about what you like to do, you always mentioned how Tara liked to do them. You always said, ‘Tara and I’ or ‘I do this because of Tara.’ You never said that you do anything for yourself. I’ve known Tara for roughly six months now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything just for yourself; you are always taking care of others. You never let anyone care of you. So tonight, I want to do that. If you’ll allow me.” Y/N said softly, hoping she didn’t push things too far. She wanted Sam to know she cared for her and saw her as more than just her best friend’s sister.

Sam didn’t say anything back. She couldn’t. Sam tried to muster up words, even a thank you, but nothing left her lips. She simply nodded her head, praying that Y/N would understand her predicament. Sam never had anyone in her entire life do something for her that was out of the kindness of their heart. They always expected something in return, but when Y/N smiled at her after she handed Matt her card and asked her if that was okay with her, she felt every doubt she had about Y/N slip her mind. Y/N ignored the tiny tears that formed in Sam’s eyes, and Sam felt like kissing her for not saying anything about it.

Once Matt returned Y/n’s card, they left the restaurant and got into Y/N’s car. Sam was the first to break the silence as they drove toward the movie theater. “Thank you,” was all she said. Y/N looked at her and smiled, admiring the alluring woman on her passenger side. She started to let her eyes wander down to Sam’s breasts but was interrupted by Sam yelling, “Watch Out!” Y/N quickly slammed on the brakes, almost running the red light.

Sam was getting ready to rip apart Y/N for being reckless but was interrupted by Y/N’s laughter. Sam didn’t understand why the woman was laughing, but she soon joined in until she gained enough sense to ask her why it was funny. Y/N turned up the radio as Taylor’s voice softly sang, ‘You almost ran the red ‘cause you were lookin’ over at me.’ Sam rolled her eyes and softly slapped Y/N’s arm as the other woman drove again once the light turned green. They both ignored the way Sam’s hand never left Y/N’s arm.

The movie theater was in an outlet strip mall, surrounded by food places and clothing stores, but most importantly, a dollar store. “Come on; we’ll go to the dollar store, buy our sneaks, and get our popcorn and soda at the theaters,” Y/N said as she got out of the car and approached the store. Sam laughed at Y/N’s words but quickly followed behind the woman.

As they are walking, a faint song could be heard playing over the speakers, and Y/N suddenly spins around in a circle with her arms stretched outwards, singing, “To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you’d call and say, ‘Meet me behind the mall.’” She ended while pointing at Sam.

Sam stared blankly at the girl while saying, “I will never call you nor tell you to meet me behind some mall,” with a serious tone but a playful glint in her eyes. Y/N just scoffed at Sam’s remark, goes to say something, but closes her mouth, as they approached the front doors of the store.

Y/N held the door open for Sam, then led the woman to the candy aisle in record time. This clearly was not the woman’s first time sneaking in candy. “I’m going to get some sour patch kids along with-What the fuck?!” Y/N exclaimed as she bent down and got a closer look at the candy.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked while laughing at Y/N’s words. She reached for her own box of sour patch kids.

“I’m going to cry. They don’t have cookie bites,” Y/n said as she stood up and pretended to wipe a tear from her eyes, “my life is over now.”

“You can probably buy some at the theater,” Sam suggested as they made their way to the checkout.

“Yeah, but I’m not paying $6.50 for a box of candy,” Y/N grumbled with a slight pout on her lips. Sam almost kissed it off of her.

“Whatever, stop being a baby,” Sam stated when she saw Y/N cross her arms as if she was throwing a fit. Y/N mumbled something under her breath at her remark.

Sam paid for her snack while Y/N paid for hers and left the store. Y/N led them back to her car, where she grabbed her backpack purse and put the snacks inside, then they made their way toward the theater. Once again, Y/N held the door open for Sam as they entered the theater.

The two got their tickets and ordered drinks and popcorn while Y/N still groaned about her cookie dough bites. After entering their auditorium, they sat down and silently watched the previews. They had rather good seats, third row from the front and in the middle. Sam just hoped it wasn’t too busy for no particular reason at all.

Once the lights start to dim, the screen cuts to a woman walking through a puddle on the ground, and Y/N immediately turns to Sam, “We come to this place for magic,” she says along with Nicole Kidman on the screen. “We come to AMC theaters to laugh, to cry, to care. Because we need that, all of us.”

Sam rolled her eyes at Y/N’s words, trying to pay attention to Nicole, but then turned toward Y/N once she stopped talking, “If you do not stop, I will leave.” Sam threatens.

Y/N smiles as she continues, “That indescribable feeling we get when the lights begin to dim, and we go somewhere we’ve never been before.”

Sam quickly looks around, only seeing four other people spread throughout the room before whispering, “Stop it right now, or I will walk out. I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Not just entertained, but somehow reborn together again. Dazzling images on a huge silver screen–hey, where are you going?” Y/N asks whenever Sam gets up to leave. Whisper-shouting at Sam as she walks up the aisle, “Sam, come on, stop being an asshole.” And with that, Sam walks out of the theater. Y/N felt her heart shatter when Sam left; she felt she had fucked up her one chance to be with the woman of her dreams. All she wanted to do was make Sam laugh and forget about all her problems, but all she did was make it worse. Y/N was an overthinker, and her thoughts quickly filled up with outcomes of her and Sam’s situationship–if one could call it that–and none of them were good.

Filled with shock and not knowing what to do, Y/N quickly sends Tara a text message telling her that Sam had just walked out on her. Tara soon responds with a thumbs up, saying, “Very nice.” Y/N grumbles at the text message but shuts off her phone and slides down into her seat, praying that no one else in the theater just watched the perfect woman leave her.

The intro to No Hard Feelings begins to play as she gets ready to text Sam, ‘I’m sorry I continued talking after you told me to stop. I should have listened to you. I was just trying to make you laugh, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Will you please come back and watch the movie? If you don’t want to, I will take you home. I am so sorry, Sam. Please give me another chance. I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up,’ but before she hits send, Sam walks back to her seat and pretends as if nothing happened. Y/N quickly turns off her phone, hoping Sam didn’t read any part of the pitiful message she almost received.

“Jesus Christ, Sam! Don’t do that! I thought you had left!” Y/N whispered while Jennifer Lawrence appeared in the background screen. Sam chuckled before shoving a small candy box into Y/N’s side.

“You got me my cookie dough bites? Why?” Y/N quietly asked while looking at Sam like she had just hung the moon and stars.

“So you won’t bitch the whole movie. Now shut up; Jennifer Lawrence is on screen.” Sam said with her eyes glued to the screen, trying her best to ignore the woman she’s put in a trance beside her.

When a beach scene comes up, Y/N leans forward in her seat; her lips form into a mischievous smirk while her eyes are lustful. Sam is about to ask Y/N why she is so suddenly interested in the movie when a naked Jennifer Lawrence storms the beach and beats up three teenagers, even suplexing one. “I want her to do that to me,” Y/N muttered, staring at Jennifer Lawrence like she was a god. Sam just scoffed at the woman, her chest getting heavy with jealousy, but nodded in agreement because same.

When the movie ends, everyone begins to leave the auditorium except Y/N. “Hey, the movie’s over; let’s go,” Sam says quickly, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder while she stands up.

“There might be a post-credit scene, so we must stay,” Y/N says, looking up at Sam with puppy dog eyes.

Rolling her eyes at Y/N’s words, Sam states dryly, “Not every movie needs a post-credit scene.” Y/N stares at Sam before getting up, causing Sam to move her hand from Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N frowns slightly at the loss of contact but doesn’t say anything as they leave the room.

When heading towards the doors to leave, Y/N quickly stops as she exclaims, “Oh my god, Sam! I have to get your picture next to it.” Sam turns to look at what Y/N is talking about and then rolls her eyes.

Y/N has stopped in front of the Barbie poster. “I am not taking a picture with the Barbie poster, Y/N,” Sam said as she crossed her arms.

“Yes, you are. Now get it in front of it.” Y/N said as she put the popcorn bucket between her arm and side and took out her phone.

“No.”

“Sam. Get it in front of the poster. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because it will be funny, Sam! Just do it for me.” Y/N pleaded, already having her phone opened to the camera. Sam rolled her eyes at the woman and walked over to the poster. She stood with her hands by her side and didn’t even bother to smile. “Come on, take your picture.”

“No, you have to smile and do the pose Margot Robbie is doing.” Y/N motioned to the poster beside Sam.

Sam turned her head and looked at Margot Robbie's pose, “absolutely not, Y/N. You wanted a picture of me next to the poster, and you will get it. Just take the damn picture you-hey! Do not throw popcorn at me!” Sam exclaimed as she reached down the front of her dress to grab a stray piece of popcorn Y/N had thrown at her.

“I will continue throwing popcorn at you until you do the damn pose!” Y/N deadpanned, getting ready to throw more popcorn. Giving in, Sam raised her right leg slightly and lifted her left arm up into the air with barely a smile. Y/N quickly took the picture with a giant smile on her face, definitely because she had gotten Sam to do the pose and not because when Sam lifted her leg, it showed off more skin.

After the picture was taken, Y/N showed it to Sam, “See? You look so beautiful in it too.” Y/N said honestly as she tried to fight the blush that crept up her neck. Afraid to speak, Sam just nodded and told Y/N to send her that picture as they left the building.

When they arrive at Y/N’s car, Y/N again holds the passenger door open for her while saying, ‘My lady,’ as Sam gets into the vehicle. She smiles at the woman’s words as the door closes. Y/N jogs around to her side and gets in. “So, what did you think of the movie?” Y/N asked as she started the car and drove back to the Carpenter’s apartment.

“It was good; I’m glad that raunchy comedies are coming back; too many superhero movies,” Sam joked as she looked at the beautiful driver.

“I agree with you on that,” Y/N said as she stopped at a light and looked at Sam, quickly glancing at the woman’s lips before turning her attention back towards the road. Y/N hoped that Sam didn’t notice how she smiled when she looked at Sam’s lips, wondering if they felt as soft as they looked. As they drove, Y/N asked Sam to text Tara on her phone to let her know they were on their way back.

“Why can’t I just text her from my phone?” Sam questioned as she took Y/N’s phone from her hand.

“Because I might have texted her and told her that you walked out on me during the movie, so I feel like a text from me would be best.” Y/N reasoned as she brought the car to a stop at a light.

“Okay,” Sam simply said, not wanting to argue with the woman, “What’s your password?”

“120384.”

“Any significance?” Sam questioned while she typed in the password.

“Yeah, that’s when my wife was born. Natalia Alianovna Romanov,” Y/N stated with a dreamy voice.

Sam didn’t respond to Y/N, as she opened Y/N’s phone to the text message Y/N almost sent her. Her heart was flattered when she read, ‘I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up.’ She felt her entire body heat up over those few words, and she couldn’t help herself as she thought about having a relationship with the younger woman.

Not wanting Y/N to know what she just read, she quickly backed out of the chat and entered her chat with Tara, “Alright, right do you want me to say?” Sam questioned as she read the text message Y/N had sent to Tara.

“‘Just kidnapped Sam, heading back to the apartment now. I severed minor damage, but I will live.’”

“Really? You kidnapped me? Alright then.” Sam laughed as she typed the message out. Y/N nodded her head in agreement.

The drive back was filled with jokes and laughter, and Sam pretended she didn’t notice how Y/N drove the entire way under the speed limit. When they arrived at the apartment, Y/N walked Sam back to her place. As Sam opened the door, she felt sadness fill her chest as she prepared to say goodbye to Y/N. “Despite my better judgment, I actually had fun with you tonight,” Sam said as she stood in the doorway to her apartment.

Tapping her foot on the ground, Y/N grinned at Sam, “Yeah, I had a lot of fun too, Sam. Even when you walked out on me.”

Sam laughed at Y/N’s remark and subconsciously moved closer to Y/N. When Sam stepped closer, Y/N rubbed the back of her neck while her eyes darted around the room. She took a deep breath before asking, “Would it be alright with you if we did this again sometime?”

Smiling at Y/N, Sam leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaving behind a faint outline of her lipstick, “Of course, Y/N, I’d love to go on another date with you.”

Flustered and taken awake, Y/N automatically placed her hands on Sam’s hips before dropping her hands back down to her sides in case she made Sam uncomfortable. “Yeah, a date. Of course,” Y/N said as they made eye contact and simultaneously looked at each other’s lips. Sam slowly leaned in to kiss Y/N when a voice called behind her, “Hey, you’re home!”

Tara practically ran to the door and quickly stopped when she saw how much space Y/N and Sam put between each other. “Am I interrupting something?” Tara questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Y/N and Sam both exclaimed; now Tara knew that she had, in fact, interrupted something and was getting ready to smack herself for it too.

“Well, alright then. I’m just going to leave you two to it then.” Tara said as she sent Y/n a playful wink.

After ensuring Tara was far away, Sam returned to face Y/N, “Text me when you get home, okay?” She said as she placed her hand on Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N lightly pressed her face into Sam’s hand and gently kissed her palm. “I will, Sam. Don’t worry.”

They shared one last smile before Y/N left, but she stopped halfway down the hallway and sent Sam a wave. Sam softly smiled and blew Y/N a kiss, which the girl pretended to catch and place on her heart before turning to leave Sam with a yearning heart that they both shared.

When Sam saw Y/N disappear, she shut the door and made sure to lock up the front door before quickly disappearing into her room, sending Y/N a text asking if she had made it out to her car safely.

Unbeknownst to the two women, Tara crawled out from under the couch after listening to their entire conversation. She quickly sent Mindy a text, “Our plan worked!”

(I projected a little bit of my fear of the Babadook onto the reader ngl)

#sam carpenter #scream #tara carpenter #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #jenna ortega

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #fic:thoseeyeschico #kookslastbutton

[tunafruitt]

--> || ❝ I’m The Favorite! ❞

Reverse! Isekai/SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, some crack :3, gender neutral reader

[ Reverse Isekai with the genshin boys !! A day out for the first time since they were somehow transported into your world… ] [word count: 1.9k]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, ITTO, KAEYA, DILUC, CHILDE, KAVEH, XIAO, AL HAITHAM

“Your Grace, with all due respect… THIS ISN’T FAIR AT ALL!”

“I understand what you’re saying Venti but I can’t bring all 20-something of you outside… 8 people is already too much! An average friend group has around 3-4 people and I’m bringing double that! I promise I’ll take the rest of you out some other day.”

Hearing consecutive sighs of disappointment, you turn to look at the rest of the men. They were visibly upset. It’s not that you DON’T want to bring them all outside! Really! It’s just that some… or, most, of them have features that would stand out in a public setting. Take Gorou and Tighnari for example! Their ears could maybe be hidden for some minutes at a time using a hood or beanie, but what about their tails? Not to mention ITTO. He literally has the most red, obvious horns.

You did your best to make them look somewhat normal. Kaveh and Wanderer could pass as a normal citizen if you removed some accessories, but characters like Diluc and Neuvillette couldn’t. So it was up to you to dress them up! Yayyy!!!

No. This was NOT an easy job. Diluc’s bright red hair couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard you tried. Neuvillette’s long hair could maybe pass as normal... maybe. His horns though? I guess you’ll have to go with the “Oh! Why are they dressed like that? Well you see, my friends just left a cosplay convention a while ago. They look cool right? Yeah.” Excuse.

You gave them what you had left in your closet. What did fit them were sweats, loose pants, pajamas and some old shirts. It was odd not seeing them in their usual complex and pretty outfits. The buffer and more muscular characters looked (not surprisingly) attractive in your shirts… they were tight just around the right spots. They noticed your eyes in their direction with your face ever so slightly flushed, but decided to not say anything about it. ( THEY KNOW.)

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

With the boys dressed up and ready, it was finally time to head out! The people you brought with you were: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Kaveh, Xiao and Al Haitham.

Xiao insisted on being the one to “protect you”. Denying his request felt awkward for some reason…

Kaveh had been interested in the simple and strangely large buildings cramped next to each other. You wouldn’t be so mean to deny his request to go see some of them in person right?

Al Haitham was interested about your world and wanted to learn more about it, maybe he’d find some books that weren’t all fiction and romance.

You’d feel bad if you only brought one Ragnvindr brother.. so you brought both. You also didn’t want to hear Kaeya bickering with Diluc about him going out on a “date” (it wasn’t.) with the Creator.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley look a bit intimidating so maybe they’d scare people off. Who would’ve known you’d have two scary looking men protecting and looking after you?

And Childe….. well he’s Childe. He was stuck to your hip.

You didn’t really know where to go.. The park? A restaurant? A supermarket? All of these options were a bit difficult since they’re usually filled with people. Of course, no matter where you go there’s likely to be people, but it’d be easier to not have to be completely and utterly aware of every stranger around you in fear that they might find out who the men you brought with you actually are. Your only option was to ask them if they had an idea or if they wanted to visit an area.

“Oh! Can we go to one of those food places you’ve talked about before? What is it called.. uh.. curly… curly fries..?”

“Jack in the Box. The name is Jack in the Box, Childe.” Wriothesley remembers every little thing you talked to yourself about when the only way they were able to feel you was through a screen. All of them would listen to you talk about a movie you watched, something funny that happened, or gossip that was spreading around your school or workplace. Anything.

You let out a small chuckle at their conversation. Their recommendation isn’t bad you think. All they’ve been eating is whatever you had back at home, since ordering takeout for more than 20 people would be wayyyyy too expensive.

So a fast food restaurant it is!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The walk there was…. tedious. Childe was trying his best to not wander off, he really was! But there was so many new things he’d never seen before, so it’s not his fault. Neuvillette was probably the calmest out of everyone. He was right by your side following your lead. Maybe holding onto your arm once or twice.. on accident! (it wasn’t) Xiao was observing his surroundings a little too hard.. yeah this is all new to him, but I guess he was serious about protecting you. Though you didn’t really need it with 7 tall men around you.

“Mortals… The need for human interaction is what makes them weak.”

Diluc and Kaeya would not SHUT UP. If you passed by a bar, Kaeya would ask if he could go in, just for a second! He just wants to see how different they are from the ones in Mondstadt, really. Diluc would follow up with “You’re no better than that… that drunkard Venti.”

Kaveh would stop mid-street to look at the buildings...

“These buildings are so… long. How do they hold up so much weight? It’s impressive! What would they need so many floors for though… Why is there a man’s face as the logo in that restaurant? Oh! He’s glowing?”

“If you get ran over by one of those vehicles it’ll be your fault.”

“Huh? Al Haitham! YOUR GRACE! Wait for me!”

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

The next problem was choosing what to eat. Ordering food for 8 people, not including yourself, was expensive. You knew that! But you didn’t mentally prepare for the bill.

“Oh god…”

“Your Grace? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. Eat up! We can go somewhere else after this if you want.”

You had realized that a woman had passed by your table countless times. She was very obviously staring at the men, looking almost flustered? Oh, she must think they’re attractive.

……

SHE THINKS THEYRE ATTRACTIVE??!

Okay. Thats okay. As long as she doesn’t ask for their numb—

“Uh-uhm.. excuse me, sir. Can I have your number? Or.. just Instagram is fine too.” She was staring directly at Wriothesley. You should’ve known letting him go out in a tight shirt and loose pants would’ve attracted more people.

“Uhh.. Pardon me, ma’am. Number…? As in… prisoner number..?” The Duke had an obvious confused and conflicted look on his face.

“Huh?”

“Aha.. ha… forgive him. He’s taken! So he can’t give out his number to just anyone.”

“Oh.. S-sorry. Forgive me I’ll just— I’ll get going.“ She was very obviously embarrassed over this whole ordeal.

“What did she mean by number, your grace?”

“Don’t… don’t worry about it…”

The group of men began to eat. (Neuvillette ordered a cup of iced water and Xiao didn’t eat anything.)

“Your Grace, there’s some food on the corner of your mouth.. Here. Let me help.” As Kaeya was about to reach his hand and wipe off the food with his thumb, there was thud on the window next to your table. Huh? It’s Itto.

It’s Itto?

“WHAT THE HELL. HOW DID HE GET HERE!?” You whispered screamed as turned to Itto. Did he follow you here? Was he here this whole time????

Through the glass Itto was saying something. His voice was muffled but you could make some things out.

“Your Grace! Don’t let this… this BUFFOON touch you! I, Arataki Itto will volunteer instead!”

You let out a loud sigh. You had to go get him… imagine seeing a tall, buff man with white hair and what looks like horns with a black hoodie up against a restaurants window…

Yeah that looks weird from an outsiders view.

You signal to the rest of the men to follow you out. When you got outside you wanted to tell Itto to never do something like that again… but he looked so sad, almost like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry Your Grace… I just wanted to accompany you! I might have gotten a teenyyy tinyyyy bit distracted on the way. You never told me there was so many cool lookin’ beetles in your world! There was one that that was very small and red with black spots, probably not useful for beetle fighting though. And I also saw some… uh.. not to disrespect anyone but there was a really weird lookin’ dog..”

SIGHHHHHH. You started to wonder what would have happened if he really had gotten lost, or what if someone recognized him? The thought of losing one of the men scared you. Would you be to blame if one of them never made it back to Teyvat?

“Itto… I love you and everything, but never do something like this again. What if we never found you? What would have happened then? I think we should head back home..”

Itto was on the verge of tears. He’s had more beans thrown at him than he could count, but nothing ever hurt as much as this.

It took Itto a while to process that you had also said you loved him.

“M’ bad Your Grace.. I won’t follow you next time… but, I love you too Your Grace!!”

The men turned to him SO FAST?? Xiao was about to take his spear out, Al Haitham looked DISGUSTED. Kaveh and Childe’s jaws were wide OPEN.

“DUDE YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT!”

“Childe’s right, we all love Our Grace, not just you.” Diluc only said this because he wanted to be the one to say “I love you”, but you didn’t need to know that. If it was for anything else he would never agree with a harbinger.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Why can’t I love and appreciate our beloved Creator? You guys are all just mad that I, the Number One Oni, Arataki Itto, am Your Grace’s FAVORITE.”

“WHAT? NO! Your Grace is that true?”

How many sighs have you let out today? This must be a full time job because you just let out another sigh.

“No, it’s not. I love all of you equally! Don’t start any problems with each other in public, please… We should be heading home anyways. Look at the sky, the sun will set soon.”

Almost in synch, the men respond “Yes, Your Grace!”

Seeing them like this made you feel all happy and giddy… It was nice seeing them together with you in the picture. You smiled at them and they just stared. They waited for you to turn around before looking at each other almost competitively. It was clear that each and every one of them wanted you for themselves in some way.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

It was finally time to head home!!! After one long and exhausting day, you finally made it back.

The rest of the men were waiting patiently for you (Venti, Wanderer, Lyney and Heizou had to be held back by Albedo, Dainsleif and Pierro.)

“*SNIFF* AUGH.. YOUR GRACE! *SNIFF* WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

“Hi, Venti… I missed you all too..” Venti’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, while he cried onto your shoulder.

“Your Grace, you’re here!” Thoma looked.. tired. Just what happened while you were gone? You decided to ask just incase.

“Hi Thoma, and everyone else. Did anything happen while me and the others were gone?” You had a gut feeling that something happened… they were unusually quiet… too quiet.

“A fight broke out between The Puppet and Cyno.”

“WHAT??”

AAAAAHHHHHHH thank you so much for 200 notes on my last fic omg y’all got me giggling to myself and spinning in my bed stop.. First long fic!!1!1! I plan on making little comic based off of the “The Creator has a.. LOVER?!” fic with the Zhongli and Venti scene with reader!! Yayyy! I Hope u guys enjoy this AUGH it makes me so happy to see people liking my noob writing thats really just me writing my thought and daydreams ilyily

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #neuvillette #wriothesley #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #kaveh #xiao x reader #genshin #x reader #gender neutral reader #yayyy

[blyth-me]

make up: coriolanus snow

Summary: Coriolanus pushes it too far in an argument and after days of receiving the cold shoulder, he's tired of being ignored.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, arranged marriage, mentions of Sejanus, cursing, unhealthy ways of dealing with arguments, mentions of alcohol, dom!coryo, possessiveness, biting, penetrative sex (p in v), unprotected sex, young politician!coryo, praise

SMUT 18+ MDNI! IF I CANNOT SEE YOUR AGE, DO NOT INTERACT. ALL MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is the first thing I've written in years so please be gentle. This is unedited, sorry for any typos. based on this post.

"Never leave a fight unresolved."

It's a saying your parents drilled into you as a child. They would rarely argue in front of you, but when they did, they made sure to apologize in front of you, too. They were the perfect examples of love, forgiveness, and compromise. As a child, you followed suit, always apologizing and forgiving quickly. When you didn't want to be quick to forgive, you would replay the saying in your mind over and over until you believed it. Thankfully, you didn't get into too many arguments or conflicts and the words of your mother and father were rarely necessary. Unfortunately, not everyone grew up with your parents.

"It's the secret to a happy marriage." Your mother insisted as she adjusted your veil before you met your father to escort you down the aisle. A happy marriage, you thought, not an arranged one. Your father had risen to significant political success and popularity when you were a child and he intended on maintaining his legacy. When you turned twenty-two, he explained as though it was no big deal that you, his "precious girl" would marry Coriolanus Snow. Your face crinkled in disgust at the news, you remember it clearly, but you forgave your father. You told yourself if you forgave your father and practiced tolerance with your assigned husband, you could be happy one day.

This, however, was not the case.

Coriolanus met you for the first time a week after your father broke the news about your husband-to-be. He came to your father's summer house and was polite, a little blunt, and reserved. He seemed cold, but not necessarily towards you. There was something... inexplicable and sad about him. You decided that all the rumors you heard about his time in the districts were true as you listened to him speak about Mr. and Mrs. Plinth. He seemed to have remorse? No, suspicious guilt, as he spoke about his late friend Sejanus. Somehow, the death of his "dearest friend" turned carefully into a discussion of his heroism and kindness to the Plinth's after the death of their beloved son. His expert manipulation made your skin crawl as you watched him win your parents over that dinner. You had to forgive him for that to make your arrangement tolerable. After all, this marriage was to further his career as a young politician and cement your father's.

For the first months of your marriage, you took all of Coriolanus' distance with a grain of salt. "He's seen things out there," your mother reminded you, "be understanding." You did your best to uphold your wifely duties to a man you didn't love (or really even know) yet and he did his best to uphold his. The two of you operated more like a well-oiled machine than a newlywed couple. The capitol balls and events felt more like a chore since most of the time he discussed politics with his colleagues and you were grouped off with the other wives to gossip. At night, you often tried to get him to open up to you as you had to him, but he wouldn't. You forgave your husband. The cycle went on and every night you crawled into what felt like a strangers bed.

Coriolanus, you quickly discovered, didn't apologize. He didn't apologize for manipulating your parents. He didn't apologize for his short answers to your common and normal questions. He didn't apologize for the lack of intimacy in your marriage or the lack of friendship between the two of you. He didn't apologize for keeping you waiting at dinner when he'd promise to be there on time. He didn't apologize for keeping himself at a distance. Your only option was to forgive him, but not tonight.

You couldn't remember how the argument started, but you did know how it ended. You freed yourself from his death grip on your wrist and told him to "go to hell", promptly wandering off to your room. You locked the door and climbed into the bed (which felt emptier than you thought it would), ignoring his incessant knocks and demands. Coriolanus fell asleep outside your door that night.

You didn't know much about your husband, but you did know that he loved power. He was a powerful man already in politics despite graduating the University only two years ago. He loved having power over conversations, which you observed at capitol events and when he met your parents formally. He loved having power over his life and therefore, loved having power over you. You were usually very forgiving, but not this time. So, you decided quietly before you slept, Coriolanus would have all chances at power revoked until you dragged an apology out of him.

For Coriolanus, the next days were torture. He was forced to sleep in the guest room of the penthouse you shared since you hid the bedroom key and moved all of his necessities to his new space. Nobody kicked him out of anywhere, let alone his own wife in their house. He tried to be extra sweet with you when you left the master bedroom to make breakfast, only to be met with curt responses if any. When that didn't work, he tried to slip notes under your door only to find them crumpled in the waste bin by his desk the next day. By the third day, Coriolanus was confused and angry. How could you be so immature? He tried to sit with you at dinner, but when you calmly stood up to eat in the silence of the bedroom, his face turned red with rage.

"You're acting like a child." He snapped. You stayed silent and kept walking.

"I am your husband! Don't walk away from me when I'm speaking to you." He shouted after you, scooting his chair out to follow you down the hallway. If kindness hadn't worked, maybe intimidation would have to do.

"I regret the day I agreed to marry you if this is how you'll treat me." He spoke pointedly.

You froze in your tracks, unable to pinpoint exactly why that statement affected you so much. You took a deep breath and continued moving until: "I wish your father would have mentioned you be a bitch behind closed doors, too."

Without a second thought, you spun around and threw your wine at him, tears pricking at your eyes. You watched as Coriolanus breathed heavily and examined his stark white dress shirt. You almost opened your mouth to speak, but bit your tongue and wiped your tears. You forced your half-eaten plate at his now maroon shirt and slammed the bedroom door without another word.

Hours went by as you curled up in bed, weeping at the words of the man was supposed to love you. This was not how you envisioned getting married. It was supposed to be your choice, not your father's. It was supposed to be a union, not a business deal. You weren't supposed to welcome home a cold man every night and sleep on opposite ends of the bed. Despite all the hurt Coriolanus put you through, you still wanted to be happy with him. He was attractive, but insensitive. He knew how to speak to people, but couldn't open up. Sometimes, he even looked at you like he could love you, but never showed you a crumb of affection beyond being polite. You could not forgive him.

A knock came at your door close to midnight. Against your better judgement, you opened up. On the other side was a disheveled Coriolanus, looking relieved that you answered before quickly regaining his composure.

"Good evening." He greeted. "You don't have to talk, I just..." He took a deep breath as you eyed him. "You should know that I regret our argument the other night."

You waited expectantly for the words "I'm sorry" to leave his lips, but you simply stared at each other.

"This arrangement has been strange for me." He began again as you scoffed. "I haven't been good to you, I see that now."

You pushed the door open a little further and stepped out from behind it, wearing your sleep clothes already as Coriolanus drank in your appearance. Suddenly, in a gesture you weren't expecting he dropped to his knees.

"Can you forgive me?" It came out as a whisper as you stared in disbelief. "Please."

The sound was satisfying to your ears as you looked down at him. He seemed exhausted and distraught, his white t-shirt snug around his shoulders as he looked up at you. You almost feel like drawing this out, making him formally apologize, but you're reminded of your parent's words: "Never leave a fight unresolved". For the first time in days, you spoke.

"Okay." You whispered.

Coriolanus' head shot up and his eyes met yours. In another gesture you weren't expecting, he stood up and cautiously wrapped his arms around you to pull you into a hug. Hugs weren't foreign between the two of you. Coriolanus would often sling his arms around you at public events and would hold you close if you were dancing at a dinner, but touches like this in private were extremely rare. You gingerly wrapped your arms around him in return as you inhaled deeply. His peace offering had been accepted.

"I want to start treating you like my wife." He turned his head into your neck and mumbled against it. "Affection like this should be normal." You shivered at his words and the feeling of his lips against your neck. You nodded and whispered a shy "yes" as he held you closer.

"You should never go to bed untouched. Especially looking like this." The words went straight to your core as he stood straight to look into your eyes. "Would you like that?" Your lips parted in surprise at his sudden change in demeanor.

"Hm?" He hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Let me show you." He leaned down and captured your lips in an experimental kiss. You couldn't bring yourself to push him away, the smell and feel of him becoming too much. He was everywhere. Coriolanus reconnected your lips feverishly and walked you backwards into your shared room.

"Coryo..." You whimpered as he nibbled your bottom lip.

"Be quiet." He ordered. "You didn't want to speak to me for days, you can be quiet while I fuck you."

You were ashamed at how wet you were becoming. It wasn't your first time having sex, but it was your first time having sex with Coriolanus. He laid you back on the bed and began to kiss and mark your neck.

"My wife," He breathed. "Don't disrespect me like that ever again."

"I didn't-" You were cut off by a quick slap against your thigh.

"Not a sound." He growled against your shoulder, biting down onto the skin as you tried to keep quiet.

In no time, your pajamas were off and so were his. Somewhere in between the messy, passionate kisses, Coriolanus slipped inside you with no warning. You gasped against his lips and whimpered quietly as he bottomed out.

"So fucking tight." He gasped into the skin of your neck.

Coriolanus began moving slowly inside of you, giving you time to adjust before picking up the pace. His icy blue eyes met yours as he kissed you deeply, feeling the way your walls sucked him in.

"Look at my wife. You're taking me so well, aren't you?" He asked mockingly.

You nodded quietly, fighting back the moans threatening to spill past your lips.

"Good girl."

The praise caused you to flutter around him as he kissed and nibbled your neck.

"You're all mine, do you understand?" Coriolanus slowed his thrusts and buried himself deeper inside of you.

"I-I understand." You responded breathily, making your husband smile wickedly.

"That's right baby. You're not going to ignore me anymore are you?"

You felt dizzy as his thrusts began to speed up again, unable to form words. He let your silence go becoming lost in pleasure himself. As Coriolanus continued fucking you passionately, he reached down between you to rub you clit.

"I'm close, Coryo." You moaned, holding his shoulders tightly.

Your words seemed to have the desired effect as his thrusts got sloppier as he buried his head into your shoulder. He nipped and kissed at the skin, making sure to praise you along the way. He told you how good you were, how tight you felt (just for him), and how pretty you sounded moaning his name like that. As you felt yourself cumming around him, you also felt yourself forgiving him.

Coriolanus pulled you close as you both basked in the afterglow. You decided, as you drew patterns on his chest, that this arrangement wasn't so bad if it meant nights like these. You decided, as he kissed your temple and played with your hair, that maybe a life with him was exactly what you needed. Just as you fell asleep in the arms of someone who finally felt like your husband, you decided you would always forgive him especially when it meant making up like this.

#coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coryo snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow imagine #coriolanus snow fic #coryo snow fic #tbosas #tbosas smut #tbosas imagine #tbosas fic #smut #imagine #fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fic

[gogolatte]

Kiss me hard before you go ✮⋆˙

✧ pairing: College Student!Fyodor x Fem!Reader

✧ nonnie requested: Hiii! Your work is amazing. If you have the time I'd like to request a collage AU Fyodor x reader. Where Fyodor is like the typical "star student" who is popular but doesn't really care much for most people in the school. And then a new student comes around who has the potential to rival him in both popularity and studies, but instead he falls deeply inlove (like, he is whipped) after meeting her during one of his chess sessions with Dazai (reader and Dazai are friends). But reader kind of only takes Fyodor's advances as a technique to manipulate her and ignores them. If you want to do a one shot it could be, for example, about reader getting in trouble with a teacher, first time meeting, a party, confession, first kiss or everything in one. But headcanons/scenarios are also greatly appreciated. You can take away some parts if needed and I'm okey with nsfw, if you want to go there. And understand fully if this gets ooc, delusion is my favorite poison :)

✧ word count: 3.7k

✧ contents: nsfw, fingering (f!receiving), praise, teasing, Fyodor is ooc, slight public fingering, roughness (if you squint). If I missed any warnings please kindly let me know!

✧ author's note: nonnie, I love you so much for bringing all of these ideas, they’re all so so amazing. I twisted it a bit, taking away some things and adding others, but hope you like it either way<3

The class was highly boring. The teacher's explanation has long been ignored by almost everyone inside the small classroom— Some people were chatting silently in the back of the class, others even playing cards underneath the desk and others simply sleeping.

Well, it seems like either she has very bad sight or just decides to ignore lazy students since they probably won't listen even after she threatens to send them to the principal's office.

You, sitting almost in the front row, couldn't enjoy slacking off because she would most likely notice and find it disrespectful, which would eventually lead to getting in trouble.

But the sleepiness was starting to get you.

You were resting your face against your palm, eyelids heavy as you fought to stay awake.

Slowly, the teacher's voice seemed to grow distant.

Before you can gladly slip into the land of dreams, someone kicks your foot, making you flinch awake once more. Turning to your side, Dazai was chuckling.

“I don't want you getting in trouble y’know? You still have to come with me to my chess session after class.” He flashes you a mocking pout before returning his attention to the teacher— He wasn't listening either, after all, he had earbuds on.

Oh, right, you promised Dazai to go to his chess session because he "would feel lonely if his bestie is not there”. Actually, he probably just wanted to show off his abilities since he knew you lack of understanding in chess. At least that's what you thought.

Dazai told you he usually has this session with Dostoevsky, the top student with the best grades on campus. Nobody truly knows who of the two is the best, but no one can deny their big brains. You inevitably roll your eyes at the thought of two smarties having a deep conversation in front of you during their chess game.

The two of them were popular, though Fyodor doesn't seem to care about it. He doesn't want more friends than the two weirdos he's with, nor does he care about having a good relationship with other people on the campus— When someone asks him for help about a certain subject, he shoves them off by telling them “Go ask the teacher about it.”

Dazai on the other hand, it's much more social and gets along with almost everyone, but he has very few people whom he really trusts. You are one of them.

The bell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Everyone stood up as quickly as they could to leave this tedious class and get some fresh air. Sadly, you had to face yet another unamusing event.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe this wasn't too bad? You had to think positively. Maybe you could even learn something from these two nerds.

You stretched your arms up, relaxing your muscles and letting out a soft groan before standing up from your chair and putting your things back in your bag. Dazai did too, and after you two had gathered your things, you left the classroom.

You don't know Fyodor at all. Other than knowing he's fighting for the Top Student position with Dazai and that he has two friends— everything else about him is an enigma.

You can't deny you were at least a bit excited about seeing him perform his chess tactics. Despite your lack of knowledge about the game.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

After walking along with Dazai for a while, going upstairs to the last floor of the building, where there were empty classrooms reserved for club activities, you stand in front of the chess club door. The hallway was quite empty, and not a lot of people chose to participate in clubs these days— You knew these rooms were mostly for other activities that went from occultism to having sex. However the latter doesn't happen anymore since cameras were installed. You're thankful for that.

“Don't be scared of Fyodor. He won't bite as long as I'm here.” Dazai laughs softly as he opens the door of the room. His words only make you frown at him.

The room was quite spacious and there were a few other students playing chess too. There was a nice silence around. The only noise is the chess pieces being placed on the chessboard with each turn.

“You're late as always, Dazai.”

Your attention is drawn to Fyodor, who's sitting with his arms and legs crossed, one above the other; a stoic expression on his face.

He was wearing a black long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, his coat was hanging on the back of his chair, his hair was tucked behind his ear and you noticed that he had a silver necklace with a cross.

Your fingers twitch slightly and your heart beats a little faster.

Ah, he is prettier up close.

What? No.

You didn't realize that you were staring at him for so long until his dark purple eyes went to your face and he raised an eyebrow.

Fyodor eyed you up and down as if you were a piece of meat for him to enjoy. The way your body tenses under his gaze; hands sneaking behind your back, lips pressing together, eyes trying to look anywhere but his. All of it gives him the hint that you'll be a nice prey.

“Oh? You brought a guest I see.” Fyodor smiles at you briefly, kindly, before looking back at Dazai who was placing his bag on the floor and sitting in front of him. He was very calm though he was facing another smart man such as him.

“She's my lucky charm.” He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, unamused. You sat in front of the small square table, arms crossed, ready to watch the development of this game.

“Shall we begin, then, Dazai?”

“Of course.” Dazai giggles, wasting no time grabbing a white piece and making his move. “Seems like I have the upper hand today.”

Fyodor smirks, his slim fingers moving so delicately as he takes his turn.

Both of them seemed very relaxed as they played. Discussing random topics, and speaking with difficult words made it a little hard for you to understand their conversation.

But the tension was slowly starting to build up— Each turn was beginning to take more than a couple of seconds. They were taking their time before making any movements, and the smiles on both of the men's faces were starting to disappear as they went silent.

You, on the other hand, were almost falling asleep like back in class. What was the point of watching them play if you didn't understand how the game goes? Plus, they were in complete silence, how was this supposed to help you learn more about their stupid smart brains?

Ah, might as well take a little nap then.

“Shit.”

Dazai groaned in annoyance as his phone suddenly vibrated, distracting him from the game. After seeing who was calling, he stood up from the chair and walked out of the room without even excusing himself.

Your eyes followed Dazai as he left the room, lips parted in confusion.

Great, now you were left alone with Dostoevsky— Well… almost. There were other people playing chess in the room too but they were minding their own business.

Fyodor sighs, looking down at the chessboard before looking at you and tilting his head to the side.

Of course, he was going to take advantage now that the two of you were alone. He was eyeing his little prey and hopefully, he could get a pretty reaction if he pushed the right buttons.

God, forgive him for being so greedy.

“Do you want to play?”

You look in his direction, blinking a few times in confusion.

Telling him that you don't know how to play was going to be embarrassing as hell. He was going to make fun of you, probably. But, you didn't know that he could read you like a book. So Fyodor already noticed that you didn't understand the rules of chess.

You press your lips together, avoiding his penetrating gaze that makes something inside you tingle.

“I'll teach you, just pay attention because I'm not going to repeat myself.”

You nod, giving him a shy smile before taking Dazai's seat while begging internally for him to come back. Was that call so damn important?

“Move Knight to e6.”

“Sorry— what?”

Fyodor raises an eyebrow, waiting for your move. Like he said, he won't be telling you the same thing twice.

Looking down at the chessboard, you try to identify who's the “Knight”— Which wasn't so difficult, but now you have to move it somewhere you don't know.

When your eyes move from the board to him, you can see he's smiling. Oh, god. You hope Fyodor doesn't notice the way your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

But he did.

As if reading your mind again. Fyodor stands up from his seat and walks behind you; One hand on the back of your chair and the other pointing at a square from the chessboard. Dark locks of hair tickle your cheeks, a faint scent of coffee emanating from him. Would his lips taste like coffee too?

You press your thighs together, lowering your head down a little as his chest grazes against your back slightly; you can't help but feel smaller against him.

“…Now, did you understand?”

His smooth voice rings against your ear; low as if he was telling you a secret. Hell. You could even feel his lips brushing against the helix of your ear.

“I—”

You're interrupted before you can speak.

“Well, seems like we need to continue this game for later, Dos—”

Dazai stops in front of you with his phone in hand. His eyes opened wide and his lips parted in surprise.

“You two are getting along I see.” He snorts, grabbing his bag from the floor. “I’m leaving though, have fun. See you tomorrow, Dostoyevsky.” And with that, Dazai walks out the door again.

You panic.

You can't be alone with Dostoyevsky again after knowing how nervous you get with him close; how you look at him with a dumb expression after he speaks because you're too focused on his pretty features.

Fuck. No, what are you thinking about? He's not that handsome.

Fyodor is a smart man, he's probably just teasing you with light touches to rail you up and make fun of you later for being so easy. There's no way you're going to let this man play with your mind as if it is his toy.

“Wait! Osamu!” You quickly leave the chair, grabbing your bag as well and leaving behind Dazai.

For a small second you turn around. Fyodor's eyes met with yours; he was smiling again. Your eyes widened and you swore you could read his lips saying “Goodbye, my dear.”

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♱ ˚₊‧⁺˖

It's been a few days since you last interacted with Fyodor. And, since that first and —hopefully— last encounter, you were trying to avoid him.

You don't want to fall deeper into him.

After Dazai saw you two being very close, he kept messing with you about it.

“You two would make a great combination. The not-so-smart introvert girl and the top student intimidating Dostoyevsky… top student after me of course.”

“Why do you blush every single time he speaks? Do you think his voice is hot or something?”

“I saw you staring at Dostoyevsky in class today, are you sure you don't like him, hm?”

What a nuisance.

Of course, you didn't like him. You were trying to avoid him at all costs. Doesn't that make your dislike for him much more obvious?

In fact, you were sure you hated him.

Each time he spoke in class he always answered right with that unamused expression and with that egocentric tone that makes you roll your eyes.

There was no way you could fall for someone like him.

You sigh, currently walking down the hallway to the library, hoping to find some rest and silence from the noisy students and from your stupid brain that had been thinking about Dostoyevsky these last days.

The library had an old tone to it; yellowish lights and dark brown old shelves that went from the floor to the ceiling. Two floors full of books from all the subjects any student could find for their projects or to pass the time.

Even if it was full of people, the silence was almost absolute if it wasn't for a few people whispering and giggling. Still, it was a very peaceful place. Sometimes you wish you could stay here forever.

Since you know the place very well, you went straight to your favorite spot in the enormous library— It was under a stair, where there was an old dark green couch that was kind of comfy, enough to spend more than a few hours reading on it.

You remember leaving a book yesterday on the couch, after all, nobody went there; it was after walking through a long-ass corridor and after a few turns. Who would explore this big library completely like you did? No one, of course.

Well… You were wrong.

“What the fuck?”

“Hm? What a wonderful surprise…”

Seriously?

You cross your arms in front of your chest while looking down at Fyodor who was sitting on the couch with your book in his hands. You were trying to avoid him and he was the one that came to you. Funny.

Fyodor closed the book, placing it to the side before leaning back with his legs spread and his arms crossed as well.

“Nice book. You have good taste, sweetheart.”

The hell with this—

You turn around ready to leave, but he quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him until you are standing in between his legs. His dark eyes look up at you.

“Why are you avoiding me? I'm not stupid, I see everything, you know?”

He loosens his grip on your wrist, his thumb caressing the back of your hand slowly. From this close, you can see his dark circles and his pale skin. Damn, he looks like a vampire…

“It's none of your business.” You frown, pushing his hand away.

“Do I make you so nervous, hm?”

Fyodor grins, leaning back once more. His smug expression only makes you more mad and you're beginning to wonder if he's doing it on purpose to get a kick out of this like last time.

He can't deny that he's enjoying it; You're so easy to get riled up that it's almost boring. Though your pretty pouty face is worth it.

“Shut up. You're in my seat. Leave.” You tried to keep a stern voice but Fyodor didn't budge from his seat.

“I'm not moving. If you want to sit on this couch so badly, might as well sit on my lap.” He pats his thigh, giving you a smirk.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He was playing with you again, probably laughing internally too— thinking you're just a stupid silly girl who can fall so easily into his trap.

He was using you as his entertaining resource.

Fine. You might as well play along.

With a hum, you flop on his lap, getting comfortable and leaning your back against his chest to which Fyodor immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Such an obedient girl.”

You squirm on his lap, feeling how butterflies flutter inside your tummy. While trying to mask your sudden arousal, you reached for the book you wanted to read and opened it to where you left it before. While doing so, Fyodor's large fingers start kneading on your waist, slowly, as if he was savoring the feeling of your body against his palms.

“Are you enjoying your reading?”

You nod. The truth is that you can't even read with his hands exploring your waist and his pretty voice against your ear. You're only looking at empty words in the book, your mind not paying attention to the sentences or paragraphs.

Fyodor's hand brushed against your neck, and the coldness of it made you flinch. He pushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to him.

“Why don't you read for me out loud?”

“Why should I?” You shrug, completely leaning against his body again, trying to suffocate him or something— though it seems like having the contrary effect as his hands pull your hips to him.

“I want to know if you're focused on your little book or me.”

Cocky bastard.

You clear your throat to begin with your reading, but as soon as you open your mouth, his lips brush against the skin of your neck, leaving a small peck.

“Go on. I'm waiting, dear.”

Then, he presses another peck, waiting a few seconds before doing the same.

God. You can't react in this situation. Your body squirms with each touch or whisper. Your thighs pressed together and you look down at the book, trying to focus on the words but it's impossible.

“Ah—”

You whine, feeling his tongue teasing the crook of your neck before sucking on your skin. Arms wrapping around your waist again, caging you against him.

The air was starting to get heavy and you had already forgotten that you were in a public library; your mind getting foggy with the thought of what was going to happen eventually.

As he pulls away, kissing the new hickey he left, one hand wanders down to your thigh, squeezing it.

“You know you can leave if you don't want this, right?” You didn't answer, not wanting to fulfill his egocentric wishes.

“Hey, I'm talking to you.”

A hand slides to your neck, pressing a little, as he leans closer to your ear. He thrusts up while keeping your hips against his, trying to “fix” his position.

Ah, but you can feel his hardness against your ass.

“It seems like you're too shy to speak, so, let's do this; If you want to leave, just push my hands away from your body and I'll set you free…”

He chuckles, placing another peck on your neck.

“But if you don't want to leave… Spread those thighs for me, dearest.”

How humiliating; Your body was reacting on its own, and you spread your thighs for him. Without wasting any time, the hand that was on your hip slides inside your pants, lithe fingers finding the wet spot on your panties.

“Huh, how naughty.” You can hear him chuckling behind you.

You barely close your thighs again, feeling shy as his fingertips tease up and down your covered pussy, emanating soft moans from you. With your lips parted, he slid two fingers inside your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Suck on them and don't be loud, honey.” He whispers, kissing the back of your neck soothingly to distract you from the advance of his other two fingers over your pussy.

Pushing your panties aside, he groans at the wet and warm feeling. Coating his fingers with your arousal first before slowly inserting a finger. Fyodor rolls his eyes at the sensation— you were squeezing him so tight that he almost felt pity for your cunt; If you were already squeezing his finger so much, how would it be when he's balls deep inside you.

Saliva slips from your lips down your chin as you keep sucking on his other fingers that are keeping your mouth entertained. Trying your best not to moan out loud when his finger that was over your pussy began sliding in and out, reaching that sweet spot of yours with each thrust.

“I'm going to add another finger, pretty. Keep being good for me..”

Another groan leaves Fyodor's lips when you squeeze his finger at his praise. Oh, well, he was going to make sure to praise you lots then.

As his middle finger makes its way inside you and you whine at the stretching, his whole hand clads your mouth, not letting any noise escape from you.

“Fuck… Do you want someone to catch us?”

You shake your head from side to side, picturing how humiliating it would be if someone finds you sitting on Fyodor's lap and moaning because of his skilled fingers that reach where yours can't.

When his two fingers start moving, you're already in heaven. Grinding your hips and spreading your thighs further to give him space to go knuckles deep.

“Is my sweet angel going to cum on my fingers? Do it, dear, be a good girl for me.” Fyodor moans against your ear, slightly grinding his hips against yours as you approach your climax.

Your thighs close and you let out a muffled whimper as you come all over his fingers, walls clamping down on him as he presses his hand harder against your mouth, whispering sweet praises before sliding his sticky fingers out of your cunt and taking his hand off your mouth to let you breathe.

Fyodor is nice enough to push your panties back in place before removing his hand from your pants. His sticky fingertips tap your lower tip a few times so you can open up and lick them clean.

“Good girl…”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, caressing your cheek, and you take the opportunity to turn around and fall to your knees in front of him, placing your hands on his thighs. You might as well worship him like he did with you.

He was nice to you, so why not be nice to him as well? After all, you were eager to see what's underneath his intimidating façade.

“Ah— Right now it might not be the moment, dear.”

You frown, resting your cheek against his thigh.

“My apologies, but this place is quite risky, you already made a lot of noise and people might be wondering,” Fyodor smirks before leaning down to kiss the crown of your head as he removes his silver necklace to place it on your neck instead.

“We'll continue this another day, I promise.” He tilts your chin up, leaning in and kissing you slowly, slipping his tongue past your lips and groaning against your mouth while his hand squeezes your cheeks together, not letting you pull away before he's done with you.

So he does taste like coffee.

Fyodor withdraws, leaving one last peck on your lips before completely pulling away.

“Goodbye, my dear.”

Giving you one last soft smile, he stands up and walks away, leaving you sitting on the floor with red cheeks and heavy breathing.

You look down at the cross hanging from his necklace. Now resting on your chest.

God, you want to taste his lips again.

© 2024 pinklacydovey

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