#and windows taking over an hour to update (and i do update regularly!) when i tried to restart my pc :(

[voidpidgeon]

drawing techno, but my pc is fighting me to the death

[girlyteengirlcore]

— until you learn

sevika x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, age gap (early 20s/late 30s), 🤏🏻 of obsessive sevika, verryyyyy dom/sub btw, strap-on sex, strap is referred to as “dick”, oral, dubcon (reader is a little bit intoxicated), orgasm control, clit stimulation, overstimulation, impact play, little bit of spit, squirting, degradation, aftercare

a/n: sorry for my little disappearance, this is my apology!! also, i’m so bad at the whole plot thing so i’m really sorry if the start of this sucks

wc: 3.2k

⌞friday night, 6:54pm ⌝

You had just finished getting ready for a night out with your friends, checking your phone every five minutes to see how far away your uber was. Once you got the notification that your ride has arrived you jumped up, nearly running out of the house. Your wife grabbed you by the arm, stopping you just before you reach the door.

"You forgetting something, doll?" Raising her eyebrows at you eagerness to leave.

"Oh sorry, babe," you stand on the tips of your toes, bringing your lips to hers.

When you pull away you give her a sweet smile, before turning on your heel and running out of the house. You glance back just before you hop in the car, waving at Sevika standing at the door.

"Update me regularly, please," the way she says it almost makes it sound like a question, but you know better than to assume she was asking. She was expecting you, telling you, to update her every now and then.

"Will do, love you!" You yelled your response at her from across the front yard, blowing her a kiss as you finally sat down and closed the car door.

⌞7:24pm⌝

It took about half an hour to get to the designated restaurant. Your friends spotted you from across the room once you arrived and went inside, ushering you over to your seat where you see they've already ordered some appetisers for the table. It feels like forever since you've seen them and it will probably be a while until you see them again, so you saver every hug from them as you go around the table.

You sit down and immediately get bombarded with questions about your life, you take some food as you answer all of their questions.

Once all of you had had your fill, you went up to the bar to order the first round of drinks. One round soon turned into two, then three, and once it got to four you suggested a bar hop. And when you actually found your second bar of the night, every second round of drinks signalled the trek to a new bar. However long the walk may be.

⌞10:13pm⌝

By this time it was about quarter past ten, and you only realised once you checked the time that you hadn’t been doing the thing that you promised to do. Update Sevika on the going ons of the night. She really doesn’t ask for much, truly, as she states in the multiple messages displayed at the bottom of your lock screen.

7:34pm

╰┈➤ Did you get there safe, baby?

8:06pm

╰┈➤ How’s it going?

9:03pm

╰┈➤ Baby

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤Are you okay?

9:22pm

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤ Where are you?

╰┈➤ I asked you to update me and you said you would, a simple ‘yes baby I’m fine’ would be amazing?

10:03pm

╰┈➤ I don’t ask for a lot and you can’t even do that much, I just want to know how things are going.

╰┈➤ I’m coming to get you

╰┈➤ Missed call

⌞10:16pm⌝

By the time you saw the countless messages and missed calls she left it was too late to message, she wasn’t going to answer since she was driving. You opt for the best option you could think of; sitting outside and waiting for her. You say goodbye to all of your friends, promising to see them again soon, wishing them the best for the time being. Then, you take your leave and find a comfortable space on the front concrete stairs of the establishment.

You’re scrolling on your phone when, soon enough, you hear a car pull up and park right in front of you. You look up and lock eyes with your wife through the open passenger seat window, she does not look happy.

Why were you getting excited? She’s about to berate you for disobeying her, so why are you feeling giddy?

You make your way over to the car, dragging your feet. Luckily you ordered some side dishes to eat while you were drinking, helping you to not get too drunk. But honestly, even if you didn’t, the feeling of her eyes burning into your head as you step inside the car would definitely do the trick.

“I’m really so—“

“Don’t wanna hear it.” She leaves no room for argument, no room for apologies, and absolutely no room for your endless excuses she knows you made up while waiting for her.

The rest of the drive home is silent. She left a cold bottle of water in the centre console that you graciously took, not bothering with manners since you know it won’t help your case.

You can’t lie though, the tension in the car mixing with the alcohol in your system was making you feel hot. You couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to do once you got home, smiling to yourself while looking at the window, trying your absolute hardest not to make it obvious that you were squeezing your thighs together. The butterflies in your stomach were making your clit throb with anticipation. The way she put her hand behind your head rest and turned around, using the palm of her hand to turn the steering wheel to back into the garage didn’t help the throb either.

You both sit in the stilled car for a moment, but you’re both still for different reasons. She’s thinking of what to say, while you’re waiting to be told what to do. She actually appreciates your behaviour for the first time all night.

“Sit on the bed.” You expect her to say more so you turn to face her, but once you receive a look that says ‘what?’ you get out of the car and head to the bedroom.

You’re waiting for some time before she comes in, stopping momentarily to glare at you, you shiver subtly under her gaze. She turns and closes the door, still standing facing away from you when she talks next.

“What is the one thing I asked you to do?” Turning around slowly to face you, walking over to you in a less than reassuring way.

“To update you,” your voice was small.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” she kneels down in front of you, staring up at you and yet it still feels like she’s looming over you.

“You asked me to update you.”

“Right. And what didn’t you do?”

“Update you.”

“I said speak up,” she says through her teeth, in an impatient manner.

“I didn’t update you. And I’m so sorry Sev, I just forgot.” Your apology was rushed, thinking she would interrupt you again. But she didn’t, she stayed silent.

“Take your clothes off.”

You swallow your nerves and lift your dress up over your head, sitting in your underwear. You don’t waste any time in taking off the rest, leaving you sitting completely bare in front of her.

“Lay on your stomach.”

You move further onto the bed, turning over and laying on your stomach just like she asked. She lifts up your hips with ease, placing a pillow underneath them. Then, the sound of her palm coming down on your ass fills the room. You hear it before you feel it. When you do feel it, it stings so badly that it feels cold.

She won’t make you count, she never does. That isn’t the point of this punishment. The point of it is to have to crying and begging her to stop while chanting empty promises along the lines of ‘I’ll never do it again!’ These pleas fall on unwillingly ears; she listens, relishing in the sobs that come out of your mouth every time she brings her hand down, then ignores you. Just like you did to her.

“Shut it. You want me to listen to you? Yeah? How do you think I feel, sweetheart?” She grabs your hair, turning your head to face her. The look in her eyes doesn’t do much to help the dripping between your thighs, but that doesn’t make it any less intimidating.

“I’m so sorry ‘Vika, I swear, it won’t hap- happen again,” stammering over your words due to your uncontrollable sobbing.

“You sure you’re not just saying that to get on my good side so I can play with your little pussy, babe? ‘Cause she looks pretty desperate,” the smirk evident in her tone.

“I’m sure.”

Out of nowhere she gets on top of you, straddling your thighs. She gets real close to your ear, make you shiver as you feel her lick the shell of it.

“Think you deserve to cum?” She hums in response when she sees you nod your head.

You feel her fingers slowly creep their way to your weeping pussy, but you stay still. You feel her knee nudge your legs open for easier access, but you still remain unmoving. It was only when her fingertip dipped slightly into you that you jolted, earning a chuckle from the woman above you. She gets off for a second and guides you to turn around. Still keeping your hips elevated but now you’re on your back.

She presses her knee to your shoulder, making it near impossible for you to move. And rubs your clit slowly with her hand, causing your eyes to close at the direct contact. You notice the light disappearing from behind your eyelids and open your eyes, only to see Sevika’s face above yours.

“Open wide, whore,” looking down at your lips with an expectant look.

You close your eyes agin and open your mouth, feeling a drop her warm saliva dribble onto your tongue. You swallow it immediately.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” A rhetorical question, of course. You both knew that answer.

Her other hand comes down to lift the hood of your clit up, making you clench around nothing as your clit is exposed to the cold air. Using her other hand to gather some of your arousal on a couple of her think fingers, a rub them roughly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching, and toes curling. Then, she shows you absolutely no mercy. Moving off of you and finding her place between you thighs, face to face with your drooling slit, licking her lips.

And she devours you, her hands do well to keep you from moving too much but even when you do, her face follows you. Never letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure. Sevika sucks your clit into her mouth, using her tongue to subjugate it to an unrelenting torture. As you feel your orgasm sneaking up, she lifts her head slightly, gaining your attention.

“Don’t cum yet.” What?

“I can’t hold it-“

“You’re going to have to, baby. I wasn’t asking.”

She gets right back to work, adding two of her thick fingers. While she seems to be enjoying herself, you have to fight off your pleasure while being forced to endure her tongue on your pussy. Not an easy task at all. You tell yourself to focus on your breathing, trying to hold it off for as long as possible but it doesn’t seem to be working at all. Little did you know, this is exactly what she wanted; to push to the point where you have to beg her to let you cum. Her favourite form of humiliation.

“Sev- vika, ohhh god, I can’t- I can’t hold it. Ohhhh my god, I can’t hold it— pleeeaaase baby! Fuckkk,” your pleas came out as screams through your teeth.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. I really don’t think you deserve it, at all.”

The room was filled with the only words you could get out; pleasepleaseplease was all she heard, and she loved it. In fact, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once your hips started moving erratically, you both knew there was no holding it for any longer. She’s not worried though, she wasn’t planning on making you wait any longer anyway.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Go on, make a mess.”

The dam walls break, the noise you let out was ungodly. Your orgasm washing over you in such an intense way that your whole body starts shaking. The shivering didn’t stop Sevika from prolonging it, dragging your orgasm out by slightly slowing down the pace of her fingers. It was such a overwhelming sensation that you don’t even hear her get up, too fucked out from only one orgasm to see what she’s doing. The ringing in your ears stops you from hearing the sound of metal clanging together. She’s already fastened the harness around her hips and is lubing up the strap by the time you turn your head around, your eyes widening at the sheer size of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I c- please Sevi, I can’t cum again,” trying to give her the sweetest look you could muster up, looking for some type of sympathy.

“Don’t give me that, you’ve got plenty more in you.”

She gets on her knees on the bed, using one of her hands to lift your hips up and the other one to guide her strap into your drenched pussy. Swiping it up and down to gather all of your cum that has dripped out of you, using it as extra lube. You wince as she pushes in. Inch by inch, she’s filling you up. She’s so slow too, making sure you feel every detail of the fake dick.

Once you adjust to the size of it, she lifts both of your legs so that both of your feet are hanging over one of her shoulders. Your hips are off the bed completely and she wraps both arms around your legs, and she goes crazy. She moves back, only bringing her hips forward whenever gravity makes you impale yourself on her dick. The sound of skin slapping soon fills the room, almost drowning out the beautiful noises you were making.

Your mouth lolled open, drool finding its way out of your mouth and down the side of your cheek.

“That feel good, baby?” She already knew but she loved to hear you say it.

“Mhm,” your bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y- yessss, oh my fucking g- gooddddd!!!” Voice changing as she angles her hips slightly upwards, pressing into that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

She doesn’t stop when you cum for the second time.

“Aww, look baby. You’re creaming all over me, does it feel too good, sweetheart?”

She doesn’t stop when you squirt all over her abdomen.

“Ohhhhhh, you’re makin’ a mess.” Bringing her hand down and rubbing sloppy patterns over your clit, forcing more out of you. Making you scream through your teeth. She chuckles through her teeth and your reaction.

She doesn’t stop after you start begging her for a break.

“I thought I told you I don’t wanna hear any of that, of course you can take more.”

“I- I can’t! Vika pl-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself, we aren’t stopping. Not until you understand— not until you learn the consequences of your actions.”

And oh my god did she stick to her word. She’s still pushing into you even now, even after you’ve stopped making noise and your mouth is just hanging wiiiiide open, even after you’ve cum another handful of times, even after she starts getting tired. She’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

She pauses for a second when she hears you mumble something under your breath, grabbing your jaw. She taps your cheek lightly.

“What’d you just say, baby? C’mon, speak.”

“I— I’m sorry,” tears, real tears pour out of your eyes. Not tears from the hours of overstimulation, not tears from the overwhelming pleasure you’re still experiencing, but tears from being genuinely sorry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t li- listen, I won’t- it won’t happen again. I love you.” Your words are quiet, almost a whisper, and slurred. And your sobs and hiccups weren’t helping you to become more coherent, but she still understood what you said. You didn’t even need to say anything and she would still know.

She pauses, her eyes are darting all over your face. And she leans down to kiss your tears away softly, lovingly.

“Okay, baby. It’s alright, I love you too. You’re gonna cum one more time and we’ll be done. Yeah?”

She hums when you give her a nod, but you’re surprised when she pulls out. She’s slow with it, not wanting to hurt you. You focus your eyes to see her kissing down your stomach, until she reaches your sore pussy. You clench around nothing when you see her just looking, staring. Then, she leans in.

Immediately dipping her tongue in, her eyes rolling at the taste of your cum on her tongue. She doesn’t waste a drop, swallowing it all.

“Relax, baby. Deeeep breaths, yeah that’s good.”

She guides you through the build up, helping you to overcome to pain of your sensitive clit being stimulated once again, helping you to calm down, telling you when to breathe in… then out. During this time, you rely on her words and actions to know how to behave. She’s calm, so you’re calm.

As your orgasm builds further, you become a little erratic in your movements. Breathing becoming faster and more unsteady, hips lifting off of the bed and pulling away? or were they grinding on her face? neither of you could tell, and back arching.

“Baby, calm down.” Her authoritative voice was still so smooth like honey, making you shiver. You nod.

“I’m- gonna, gonna cum. Pleasepleaseplease- Vika I’m gonna c-“

“Yeah, I heard you. Calm down and let it alllll out.”

And when that cord inside you finally snaps, she’s there. Following your hips, forcing you to ride it out.

⌞probably veryyyyy early into the next morning⌝

Your back is against her chest, she’s running her hand up and down your torso. The warm bath water engulfing you both, making you sleepy. You could feel her watching you, so you open your eyes.

“What are you looking at?” Playfulness lingering in your tone.

“My beautiful wife,” she says without even thinking.

You smile, closing your eyes again and leaning back against her chest.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” She chuckles at your answer, letting the comfortable silence fill the bathroom again.

After a couple of minutes she speaks again.

“Don’t ever make me worry like that again.” Her voice calm, but threatening.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I mean it, baby.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Right,” rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

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Masterlist

[2i1han]

Slowly, Then All at Once

1 : before it all began , slowly

pairing: classmate!leehan x fem!reader │word count: 8k

genre: slow-burn , young adult, coming-of-age , romcom

tags: boynextdoor , non-idol au, high school/college au , first love , neighbor!leehan , extrovert!leehan , cold!leehan , extrovert!reader

characters mentioned : kim leehan , kim woonhak , sakai moka , kim minji , han taesan , park minju , jung wooyoung , ham jinsik

warnings: no warnings! sfw

synopsis : you and leehan have always known each other—classmates since ninth grade, always familiar but never really close due to leehan's indifference. but when his brother enters the picture, and you ending up in the same building as him, everything starts to change. unresolved situation that were once buried begin to surface, and leehan must decide: let go or finally take a chance.

a/n : hi, everyone! this is my first fanfic on tumblr, and i’m still getting used to the platform. this story will be divided into five full parts, so if you enjoy it, i’d really appreciate your support! i’ll be updating regularly, usually every 2 days. enjoy!

♪ playlist : midnight fiction/illit , so let's go see the stars/boynextdoor , serenade/boynextdoor , but i like you/boynextdoor , so tender/say sue me , bad/wte , light/wte , chocolate/bol4 , some/soyou , would you love me/stella jang , everyday/haebin , star drawing/yuziii , apple cider/beabadoobee

middle school

the morning was still young, and the sun had barely risen. the classroom remained dim, the fluorescent bulbs providing the only source of light while the first rays of sunlight had yet to seep in. the room was silent, occupied only by two students minding their own business-and a brunette boy sitting by the window, lost in thought.

"hey! kim leehan!"

a loud, enthusiastic voice called from the doorway, instantly breaking the quiet.

before leehan could even turn to see who it was, a familiar presence loomed over him. his friend was already there, grinning and scratching his head.

"stop it!" leehan chuckled, standing up to pull his friend in for a quick dap.

"it's the first day of your last year as a middle schooler. how does that feel, hyung?"

woonhak, ever the energetic one, nudged leehan's arm before plopping down in the seat beside him, a wide grin on his face.

leehan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "nothing out of the ordinary. school is still school," he said, voice hinting with indifference as he shifted slightly to face woonhak more comfortably.

woonhak let out an exaggerated sigh. "nothing to say about missing me? you'll leave again for high school next year." he rolled his eyes, sulking. "it's just like when i was in fifth grade, and you moved here for middle school."

leehan huffed out a small laugh at his friend's dramatic antics.

they had been best friends since their early years in elementary school. leehan, ten at the time, and woonhak, eight. being two years apart, but that never stood in the way of their friendship. if anything, their differences made them an even better match, with leehan's matured, and calm-extroverted appeal balancing out woonhak's childish and loud aura.

school didn't excite leehan much, not that it did for his friend either. but while kim why would i even need algebra in a performing arts university woonhak, treated school like a never-ending chore, leehan simply went through the flow, doing what was necessary without getting too caught up in it. outside of class, his world was split between two passions: music, and nature.

he spent hours in his room, practicing vocals and perfecting dance moves in front of his mirror, losing himself in the rhythm of the music. whether it was a slow ballad or an intense choreography, he found an escape in the way his body moved to the beat, in the way his voice carried emotion that words alone couldn't. performing gave him a sense of control, a rush of energy that school never did. but when he wasn't singing or dancing, he sought quiet comfort in his other hobbies, raising fish and tending to his plants.

his aquariums, filled with different species, were his personal oasis. he could watch them for hours, mesmerized by the way they glided through the water, unbothered by anything beyond their glass world. his room smelled of greenery, lined with potted plants he carefully nurtured. he liked the balance of it all. music filled him with energy, while his fish and plants gave him peace.

occasionally, he'd swing by woonhak's place to make music together, testing out harmonies or working on choreography late into the night. woonhak, ever the extrovert, always had something new planned, dragging leehan into whatever wild idea he had. not that leehan is the biggest introvert, nor minded, he loved performing just as much. he just didn't show it as openly as woonhak did.

despite his mixed feelings about school, his grades weren't bad. he was smart enough to keep up without trying too hard, unlike woonhak, who barely scraped by with last-minute cramming and a whole lot of luck.

"of course, i'll miss you." leehan sighed, shaking his head. "but the high school I'm going to is just near hongik. i'll visit you after classes. it's not like i'm moving overseas." he rolled his eyes before chuckling. "you're so dramatic."

woonhak let out a whine, slumping onto his desk. "well, can you blame me? this is my first year finally being in the same middle school as you, and it'll also be our last. i barely survived sixth grade without your help in elementary." he pressed his palms against his forehead, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "i have to lock in, hyung."

leehan chuckled "yeah, you should. you'll be on your own again next year." he leaned back, arms crossed. "let's just enjoy this one while it lasts, woon. save the worrying for later."

his friend peeked up from his hands, lips tugging into a small smile. "fine. but you better not forget about me when you're off being a cool high schooler."

leehan rolled his eyes again, but there was also brotherly warmth in his eyes. "as if i ever could. also, call me leehan-sunbaenim from now on," he said, completely straight-faced while pretending to look at his phone

woonhak just dramatically turned his head to leehan and let out an aish, throwing him an unimpressed look. leehan, however, burst into laughter, clearly enjoying his friend's reaction.

"that was cringe," woonhak muttered.

"how is calling your senior by a proper title cringe? hey, kim woonhak, where are your manners?" leehan teased in an exaggeratedly authoritative tone, crossing his arms like a disappointed teacher.

woonhak rolled his eyes but is chuckling. "you're still a year away from being a highschooler. i will not obey you."

leehan just rolled his eyes barely able to finish a sentence between chuckles.

they spent the rest of their free time chatting, catching up on summer, mostly woonhak complaining about how fast it ended and leehan roasting him for his questionable choices.

as time ticked on, leehan glanced at the clock and raised a brow. "woonhak, are you seriously still here? your class is in the other building."

his friend just waved off his concern like he was swatting away a fly. "oh, no, it's still early. it's not like the bell's gonna ring any sec-"

ring

the school bell blared through the hallways, as if it heard woonhak talking.

"you've got to be kidding me," he groaned, lazily scrambling to grab his bag.

leehan who's already gasping for air, tapped him on the back. "kim woonhak, good luck today," he teased.

woonhak shot him a glare as he rushed toward the door, waving over his shoulder. "catch you later, peace!"

the minute slipped away like a gust of wind, and before leehan knew it, their teacher was already standing at the front of the classroom.

"good morning, teacher," the students greeted in unison, rising briefly before settling back into their seats.

"good morning, everyone. settle down," the teacher instructed, adjusting his glasses as he placed a stack of papers on his desk. "now, before we begin, i'd like to introduce a new student who will be joining us for the school year."

then, the classroom stirred. students exchanged whispers, some craning their necks to get a better view of the doorway. the air buzzed with curiosity and the murmurs resembled a beehive.

with a subtle glance from the teacher, the new student, you, stepped in. you had a short hair that barely reached your neck, neatly parted to the side, wispy bangs, and pair of round glasses sat comfortably on your tall nose, framing your soft and slightly chubby cheeks. unlike most new students who fidgeted or hesitated, you walked in with an effortless calm.

"hello, everyone! my name is y/n. i'm 15 years old and just moved into the neighborhood down the street. i hope we can all be friends!" you bowed lightly with a voice that's bright and confident. you had a natural ease, as if introducing yourself to a room full of strangers was something you did every day.

a few students nodded approvingly, while others leaned in to whisper among themselves. you can see other students already smiling at you, while others just talked to each other.

meanwhile, the teacher scanned the room for a vacant seat. his eyes landed on leehan and the empty chair beside him. as if you're also following your teacher's vision, you see the quiet boy who seems lost in his own little world.

"you can sit there, next to that boy by the window," he said, gesturing toward leehan's row.

you nodded, and just as you're about to move, a student behind leehan raised a hand.

"sir, han taesan sits there. he's just absent today." and you're stopped to your track, standing there. though, you admit that it felt awkward, at least for yourself.

the teacher paused, nodding in acknowledgment, then began eyeing around the class again. after a brief scan, his gaze landed on a seat in the second row.

"alright, you can take that seat instead."

you nodded again, and made your way to your new spot, and within moments, you had already struck up a conversation with your seatmate, you always had this welcoming demeanor that contrasts the usual stiffness of first-day introductions. even as a kid, your parents would already describe you as a social charmer and a people person. extroverted, but balanced.

the first few periods blurred together in a haze of just few introductions for the start of the school year. the morning sun had crept higher, casting beams of light through the windows, and shining dust particles that swirled in the air. you sat comfortably listening to each hellos and my name is your classmates presented. even though the entire class you're new at already knew each other since the beginning of middle school, the new teachers are still yet to know them, and so do you.

when the bell finally rang for break, students wasted no time swarming out the door, dying to stretch their legs and escape the classroom, and you are no exception.

you had no trouble blending in. you'd already found a group to sit with, chatting easily as they made their way toward the school café.

and just as you're about to leave, your eyes caught sight of leehan, who unlike the rest of the class that had scattered in pairs or groups, remained at his desk. his left elbow rested against the desk supporting his chin, while his right hand moved lazily over a notebook, jotting something like it's straight out of an ancient manuscript with his illegible handwriting.

you admit. leehan's expression was unreadable. as a person who's good with people, scanning through people's thoughts or emotion by their body language is a piece of cake to you, but leehan? he's neither focused nor completely absent, as if his mind is hovered somewhere between a coherent thought or nothingness.

curious, and being the social butterfly ever, you adjusted your glasses and approached him.

"hello, i'm y/n. what's your name?" you said with a wave.

leehan didn't react immediately, and for a second, you thought he'll ignore you. instead, he finished the last stroke of his writing before slowly lifting his gaze. his eyes flickered towards you, scanning your face with little to no recognition, as if you're someone he sees daily.

"leehan. kim leehan," he replied flatly. his voice was low and unamused, giving the smallest head nod. his lips curved into an almost nonexistent smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

the contrast between you and him was almost like seeing black and pastel colors from the point of view of a third person. you, with your bright, welcoming energy, stood opposite leehan, whose presence seemed more like muted, but not completely colorless either.

still, you were unfazed. but you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a tinge of awkwardness, or maybe even concern.

not everyone you met responded positively to your friendly nature, and that was fine. but something about leehan felt strange. he didn't seem uncomfortable around you, nor did he try to avoid the conversation. yet, at the same time, there wasn't even a hint of enthusiasm in his words and actions. it was as if he existed in a space between acknowledgment and indifference.

"are you not going to grab a snack with a friend? you can sit with us!" you offered in a warm and inviting tone.

leehan barely hesitated before pressing his lips together. "no, i'll be out. thank you," he said in the same monotone, standing up, and nodding his head subtly as he slung his jacket over his shoulders.

without waiting for a response, he walked past you heading toward the door, most likely in search of woonhak.

you just tilted your head slightly looking back at the door watching him go. if you're bothered by his lack of interest, you didn't show it. instead, you just shrugged it off deciding that leehan was probably just the reserved, introverted type.

that thought lingered in your mind for a moment before you went off with a quiet sigh. whatever it was, you figured you'd understand him better with time. with that, you turned away and made your way toward the café, where your new friends were waiting.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"class dismissed."

and just like that, the first day of classes in your new school comes to an end. the ring of the bell echoes through the hallways, and the classroom instantly bursts into motion. students scrambling to shove books into their bags, some reapplying makeup, others fixing their hair, and chatting away about everything and nothing.

you stand from your seat, adjusting the strap of your bag as you turn to face minji, your newly made friend. "where are you headed after class?" you ask, casually stuffing your things inside your bag.

minji, in the middle of combing her sleek black hair, tilts her head in thought. "hmm, i don't know. ask moka. i'll just tag along wherever you guys go."

moka, seated beside you, stops fussing with her hair long enough to glance up. "it's only 4:40 pm. how about karaoke?" she suggests.

you nod in agreement, and minji hums in approval. "okay, well then, hurry your butts up," moka adds, snapping her compact mirror shut.

you lean toward the small mirror in her hand giving yourself a quick once-over. with just a simple tuck of your hair behind your ears, a few pats to settle your bangs into place, and a slight nudge to adjust your thick-framed glasses, you're good to go.

"alright, done. let's go?" moka asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

you and minji nod in sync, stepping out into the busy hallway. but just as you're about to walk away, your gaze drifts back into the classroom, landing on the seat across the room.

leehan is still there, quietly packing up. alone.

there's something about him that makes you hesitate. it's not pity, not exactly. you've always had this habit of noticing people who seem isolated, of wanting to make them feel included. but over time, you hated it. you've realized that not everyone who sits alone is lonely. and not everyone who is quiet is sad.

still, the thought didn't stop you as you take a step forward, considering approaching him-

"kim leehan, work your slowass up, we got a gig to waaaaatch!"

a voice booms through the doorway like a bomb being dropped, so loud it cuts through the noise of the corridor crowd. you nearly jump at the volume. turning your head, you see a boy bolting into the classroom, all energy and mischief.

leehan looks up at the source of the noise. he saw you standing on the doorframe, and woonhak approaching him. but his whole attention seemed to be only towards his friend. and that's when you see it— his entire demeanor shifts. his lips curve into a genuine smile, his eyes scrunching up with amusement as he watches woonhak walk towards his desk.

the sight catches you off guard.

that smile, it's real, and bright, almost like there's a light shining behind him.

you realize then that leehan isn't some tragic, brooding loner. he's not an outcast, not sad, not lost. he has a friend. a good one, by the looks of it.

a quiet chuckle escapes you as you shake your head, cringing at your own assumptions.

i misinterpreted people again, you think, making a mental note to quit assuming stories to strangers before actually knowing them.

with that, you turn back to moka and minji, linking arms with them as the three of you make your way down the hallway.

as leehan and woonhak followed towards the door and to the hallway, the latter nudged him with a mischievous grin. "so, how was your day?"

leehan exhaled through his nose. "it was fine. there's a new student."

"ooooh." woonhak's eyes lit up. "is it a girl?"

leehan gave him a look and chuckled. "why is your first instinct always to ask if it's a girl?"

"because that's the important part, duh," woonhak shot back. "so? spill."

leehan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "yeah, it's a girl. she's... nice, but weird."

woonhak practically bounced in excitement. "weird how? like, quirky weird or talks-to-ghosts weird?"

leehan squinted in thought. "more like... i'm the weird one. i kind of left her hanging when she tried to talk to me. i felt bad but, i just can't."

"oh? that's not a classic kim leehan behavior. you're pretty friendly."

"and my hands went cold. it was like i was getting an illness." he flexed his fingers in mild concern.

woonhak stopped in his tracks. "hyung," he pointed an accusing finger. "are you sure you don't like her?"

leehan let out a dry laugh. "nonsense, that's ridiculous. i just don't wanna talk to her kinda."

"right, right," woonhak smirked, but his mischievous grin stayed.

"enough of that," leehan grumbled, picking up his pace. "let's just go."

woonhak, of course, didn't let it go. he kept teasing, making dramatic heart gestures and batting his eyelashes.

"shut up before i leave you behind."

"say it with feeling, hyung. your voice is shaking~"

leehan rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the amused grin tugging at his lips. woonhak was insufferable, but at least he made the day less dull.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

now walking down the busy streets of hongdae, just a few minutes from your school, the scent of street food and the buzz of students unwinding after classes fill the air. the neon lights flicker even though the sun hasn't fully set yet, giving the streets that signature youthful energy.

as you walk, you turn to moka, who's sandwiched between you and minji, and ask, "moka, is leehan really that introverted?"

both of your friends glance at you at the same time, puzzled.

"kim leehan? the leehan from our class?" moka asks, raising an eyebrow.

you nod. "yeah, he barely spoke. he just seemed cold."

moka and minji exchange a knowing look before minji giggles. "cold? leehan? are we talking about the same guy? he's pretty social, y'know."

moka nods in agreement. "yeah, i mean, he's not the most talkative person ever, but he interacts well. he's fairly outgoing. everyone likes and knows him."

"not to mention he's good-looking and talented too," minji adds with a cheeky grin.

moka gasps dramatically, shoving minji's shoulder. "oh? not as handsome as taesan though, right?" she said with a teasing smirk on her face.

minji's ears turn bright red, and she immediately hissed in annoyance "ah, this is about leehan! can you stop?"

the two of them burst into laughter, teasing each other while you zone out, lost in thought.

good-looking? you never really thought about it. leehan just seemed strange. but what's even stranger is hearing that he's supposedly social.

"but he barely interacted with anyone," you point out. "aside from his friend earlier."

"oh yeah, that loud guy. what was his name again?" moka snaps her fingers, trying to recall.

"woonhak, seventh grader." minji supplies. "they're close, huh?"

"how do you even know that? well, anyways" moka shrugs. "i noticed that too. maybe leehan just wasn't in the mood today. it happens. you know, some days you just wanna shut the world out and listen to sad music while staring dramatically out the window."

you scoff. "that's... oddly specific."

minji laughs. "she's speaking from experience."

"ya!" moka glares playfully. "i'm just saying, don't take it personally. give him time. he's nice."

their words settle in your mind, giving you a bit more confidence. they knew leehan longer than you do. maybe he didn't dislike you for no reason. maybe it really was just a bad day.

as you reach the karaoke bar, the bright led lights reflect off your glasses, and moka swings open the door. the entire evening had been fun with your new friends. although, you miss your old friends back in busan, you're still keeping in touch with them all while establishing new relationships.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

as soon as you got back to your brother's apartment where you're living. the familiar aroma of spicy ramyeon fills the air, instantly making your stomach grumble. your brother, wooyoung, is at the stove, stirring the noodles in the bubbling pot.

"you're finally home," he says, not even turning around. "it's already 7 pm. how was the first day?"

tossing your bag onto the sofa across the room, you plop down onto a dining chair and immediately reach for the cookie jar, popping one into your mouth. "it was great me and my friends went to karaoke after classes, so i got home a bit late."

wooyoung lets out an amused "ohh," lifting the pot to pour the steaming noodles into a large bowl at the center of the table. "karaoke, huh? and you didn't bother to tell me you'd be late?"

you roll your eyes, still munching. "i messaged you. you didn't answer."

wooyoung pauses, then shrugs. "oh, yeah. i was at the studio all day. just got home like, thirty minutes before you." he grabs his phone from the counter, flips it over, and sees the unread notification. "ah, whoops. my bad. haven't checked my phone."

"figured," you say, watching as he sets the table, placing down the kimchi and chopsticks before settling into the chair across from you.

then, suddenly, his face shifts into amusement. "wait, friends?"

you sigh, already regretting bringing it up. "mhm, friends from my new school," you say, trying to sound as casual as possible.

wooyoung leans forward, resting his chin on his hand like he's about to hear the most exciting gossip of his life. "and here i thought you'd spend the first month brooding in the corner."

you groan. "why do you act like i'm some kind of hermit? i do talk to people, you know."

"mhm, am i surprised, though? you've always been good at making friends. mom used to brag about how easygoing you are," wooyoung says, setting his bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

you smirk at the mention of your mom. "you're louder than me. why would she even brag about that?"

"mhm, and not just louder. i'm also cooler," he says, smoldering.

you rolled your eyes, and scoffed "right. 'cooler.'"

"glad we agree." he grins, then leans forward slightly, sneering "so... any special friends?"

you swerved a chopstick at him. "stop."

he laughs, dodging it. you sigh, knowing full well he won't let it go. "alright, alright," he says, finally getting serious. "so, what's the deal? someone already giving you a hard time?"

you hesitate. if you tell him, he's not going to leave you alone for the next thirty minutes straight. but the thought is already out in the open, and now he's just waiting for a word, watching you expectantly.

you twirl your noodles around your chopsticks, avoiding eye contact. "not really. it's just, there's this guy in my class. i tried talking to him today, and he was just, i don't know. cold? kinda distant."

wooyoung pauses mid-bite, then slowly sets his chopsticks down, his grin creeping back. "oh, he likes you."

you nearly choke on your food hearing that. "that's stupid."

"classic," he says, shaking his head. "a guy being cold to you? that's just a poorly disguised crush."

you scrunched your nose and cringed, squinting at him. "that's the worst logic i've ever heard. is that how you're supposed to act around the person you like? sounds pretty dumb to me."

wooyoung waggles his finger. "ah, you still have much to learn. sometimes, guys get all awkward when they like someone. you know, trying to play it cool and mysterious."

you make a face, just proceeding to slurp on the ramen. "right, and that's why you're single."

wooyoung gasps dramatically, clutching his pearls. "wow, that hurts."

you roll your eyes, and he finally drops the teasing, getting serious. "but honestly, maybe he's just not in the mood. or maybe he's not a super social guy. it's literally the first day. give it at least a week. or a month, even."

you think back to what moka and minji said, and now your brother too. maybe you really were just overthinking it.

"yeah... you're probably right," you admit, taking another bite.

"of course i am," he says, smug. "older sibling wisdom."

"you literally just told me some fake dating psychology."

"hey, it works for some people," he says, laughing.

you shake your head, but you're smiling now, too.

as you finish up dinner, the conversation drifts to other things— his work at the studio, how living in seoul is going so far, and what ridiculous thing he plans to waste money on next. (apparently, it's a limited-edition plushie he claims is an investment.)

you're now in your bed, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp against your pillow. staring at the ceiling, you replay the day in your head- you having fun with your new friends, the laughter at karaoke, and the small, nagging thought of leehan's. you just don't know why you wanted to be friends with him so bad. the day had felt both so long and short. sighing, you turn onto your side, reaching for the lamp beside you, and clicking it off.

the next few weeks and months follow the same routine. you've settled into your new school, growing comfortable with your routine. minji and moka have become your closest friends, the kind you can joke around with, text random topics to in ungodly hours, and count on to save you a seat during lunch. you've even managed to branch out a bit, making casual friends in other classes, effortlessly slipping into conversations and forming easy connections.

but the case with leehan? still the same. frozen.

you're still stuck in the same frustrating loop of forced interactions, half-hearted conversations, and long silences. you've been paired up with him for projects multiple times, and each time, it's a painfully dull experience. he never speaks unless spoken to, and even then, his responses are as dry as toast-short, flat, and uninteresting. if he ever does talk, it's out of necessity, like asking how to blend a color for an art project (since, unlike you, he's not exactly gifted in that league). and that's it. no banter, no effort to make things less awkward. it's not like you expect him to be a chatterbox, but come on, a little effort wouldn't kill him.

"hey, what do you think about adding some shadows here?" you ask during one of your art projects, pointing at a part of the sketch.

he shrugs. "looks fine."

you stare at him, waiting for more. anything more. but he just keeps painting, completely unbothered.

"okay, well... do you think we should use blue or purple for the background?"

"blue," he says simply, not even looking up.

he isn't rude, but not nice either. you sigh, dragging your brush across the palette. working with leehan is like texting someone who only replies with k. It's frustrating, and more than that, awkward.

it's not just during projects, either. whenever it's just the two of you left in the classroom, the silence is so heavy it feels like an actual thing, pressing against you, urging you to break it. and when you do, when you attempt small talk, ask about his hobbies, his music taste, just anything to spark a conversation, you always get the same dead responses.

"you know, i have a brother, and we liked watching basketball together. do you like any sports?"

"no."

"mhm, i see. well, do you have any pets? i have a pet goldfish in our house."

"yes."

"really? what is it?"

"the same. fish."

"what type of fish?"

"corydoras,"

at least he's honest, you cope.

that's how every conversation goes. it's like he's allergic to words longer than three syllables. and at first, you think, okay, maybe he's just like this with everyone. maybe he's one of those people who just doesn't like talking.

but you see stuffs, like how he laughs when he's with other people. how he's actually talking, laughing, contributing more than just a robotic "okay." he's not this indifferent with them. just with you.

and that's when it really starts to sink in.

it's not that leehan is quiet, or shy, or socially awkward.

he just does NOT want to talk to you.

that realization hits harder than you'd like to admit. you try to brush it off, tell yourself that not everyone has to like you, that it's fine, really. but the more you see him laughing with others, joking around, talking normally, the harder it becomes to ignore.

it's not that he struggles to make friends. he's just choosing not to be friends with you. and that affected you. not because it's leehan. it's because you had thing about being left hanging.

still, over time, you learn to accept it. some people just don't click, and leehan is clearly one of them. it's not like you need his approval. you have minji, moka, and a handful of other friends.

so you stop trying. stop initiating conversations. stop going out of your way to talk to him. and for a while, that worked.

then, something shifts

it's subtle at first, so subtle that you don't even notice it. but then minji nudges you during lunch, her voice dropping to a whisper

"hey," she says, leaning in. "i think leehan's staring at you."

you snort, not even bothering to look up. "yeah, right."

"no, really. he's been looking over here for, like, a solid minute."

you roll your eyes, but curiosity gets the better of you. when you glance up, leehan's gaze flicks away so fast it's almost unnoticeable.

you think about it for a second but ultimately shrug it off. it's not like it changes anything. he still doesn't talk to you. ye still keeps his distance. and you certainly aren't going to waste energy trying to break through his icy exterior again.

but you start to notice things, like how he stiffens whenever you walk past, his posture going unnaturally rigid. how he deliberately avoids eye contact, like meeting seeing your eyes might physically kill him. how, no matter what, he always seems aware of where you are in the room, never too close, but never completely out of reach.

it's weird. and, honestly, you're starting to think that maybe he just really hates you that much.

minji and moka notice it too.

"i swear, leehan is straight-up ignoring you," moka mutters one afternoon, barely paying attention to the notes she's supposed to be copying. "it's like you don't even exist to him."

you sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook. "whatever. it's not like it matters. as long as he cooperates when we have to work together, i couldn't care less."

minji hums thoughtfully. "or maybe... he likes you?"

you blink. "what?"

minji nods, looking more convinced by the second. "think about it, he's only like this with you. everyone else gets normal responses, but with you, it's like he forgets that he's a human being."

you stare at her, then at moka, waiting for her to back you up. but instead, she tilts her head, considering.

"actually... i don't think so." she suddenly snaps her fingers. "ah! remember park minju? that pretty girl from the next class?"

you frown. "what about her?"

"well, leehan had the biggest crush on her back in eighth grade. and when I say biggest, i mean biggest. he was, like, ridiculously obvious about it. everyone knew."

minji's eyes widen. "oh my god, you're right. he was so dramatic about it."

the two of them burst into laughter while you sit there, entirely unimpressed.

"wow," you deadpan. "so, basically, leehan just really, really doesn't like me."

moka smirks. "yeah, to the point where it's almost impressive. like, what did you do to him in a past life? he avoids you like a virus."

minji swats her playfully, but you just shake your head. "but yeah, if he likes you he'll be obvious about it."

confirmed. leehan hates your guts, for god knows what reason.

and with that, you decide you're done thinking about him. if he wants to pretend you don't exist, then fine.

the next few months, you ignored leehan completely. and, of course, he noticed.

at first, he didn't seem to mind, or at least, he pretended not to. but it didn't take long for moka and minji to catch on. from across the room, they could see it, the way leehan would glance at you when he thought no one was looking, his expression unreadable.

and then there were the times when you two ended up in the same group for another never-ending project. you would talk to everyone except him. it wasn't that you were mean about it, you were perfectly civil, but you just didn't acknowledge his presence. no eye contact. no small talk. nothing.

but leehan wasn't stupid. he could tell the difference between indifference and avoidance.

at some point, it must've started bothering him too, because moka and minji began whispering to each other every time they caught him hesitating, fidgeting like he was debating whether or not to approach you.

and, he almost did.

it was homeroom, and the teacher hadn't shown up. the class was in full chaos-desks rearranged, chairs turned backwards, students perched on tables, chatting and laughing. you sat comfortably in your usual spot with moka, sipping on jelly, while minji sat comfortably on moka's desk, the three of you bantering about something completely ridiculous.

you felt a presence behind you.

moka stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flickering up. minji did the same. then, she discreetly nudged your knee under the desk, her silent way of saying look behind you.

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of leehan standing there.

your posture straightened instinctively, but you kept your expression neutral as you turned fully to face him.

his hands fidgeted at his sides, his lips parted slightly like he was rehearsing his words in his head. swallowing hard before speaking

"y/n, i just wanted to say tha-"

"HELLO, Y/N!"

a voice suddenly interrupted, cutting straight through the moment.

you blinked, turning your attention to the source, ham jinsik.

jinsik was, by all definitions, the classic popular guy. tall for his age, charming, effortlessly good-looking. he was the type of guy who never seemed to take anything too seriously, which was probably why he was grinning at you like he'd just won the lottery.

as leehan shifted, glancing over his shoulder, your eyes flicked from jinsik back to him, just in time to catch the way his expression dropped, just for a split second before he quickly looked away. retreating before he could even finish his sentence.

but before you could say anything, jinsik was already speaking.

"jinsik, hi! what's up?" you smiled, brushing aside the awkwardness of the moment.

behind you, moka and minji were losing their minds. they weren't even trying to be subtle, nudging each other aggressively while failing to hold back their giggles.

jinsik flashed you a sheepish grin. "i was wondering if you're free later? i mean..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "we're in the same group, right? and, uh, i could really use some help with the topic we're working on."

moka and minji's snickering worsened "sure, help".

you shot them a quick glare, swatting their knees in warning before nodding at the boy in front of you "of course, i'm down."

jinsik visibly relaxed, a small little yes slipping past his lips before he cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. "great! we can walk together after class. don't worry, i won't keep you out too late."

you laughed lightly. "alright."

as jinsik walked back to his group, who immediately started hyping him up, you finally turned back toward your own friends, rolling your eyes at moka and minji's exaggerated expressions.

but then you remembered.

leehan

you glanced back at him, half-expecting him to be looking in your direction, but he wasn't. he was sitting at his desk, chatting with the student in front of him like nothing had happened.

you exhaled, excused yourself, and walked toward his desk. "hey." you stopped beside him. "sorry about earlier. you were saying?"

leehan turned to you, blankly

whatever light that had been on his face while talking to his classmate disappeared, replaced by something colder. his lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tensing slightly.

"i forgot," he said flatly.

you blinked. "oh, okay then."

you didn't want to waste energy overthinking it, so you just hummed, nodded, and walked back to your seat.

what you didn't see, however, was leehan's gaze following you. nor did you notice the way his eyes flickered toward jinsik, his jaw tightening slightly, fingers clenching into a fist on his desk.

just like that, the days blurred together, and everything fell back into the usual routine.

middle school came to an end faster than you expected.

one moment, you were stressing over exams, avoiding unnecessary drama, and pretending not to notice the way leehan had stopped trying to talk to you. and the next? you were standing in a packed auditorium, surrounded by classmates who were buzzing with excitement and nerves.

the school hall was chaotic, students darting between friends, taking photos, and exchanging yearbooks filled with scribbled messages they'd probably cringe at in a few years. the air smelled like fresh paper, perfume, and faint traces of cafeteria food.

you were standing with moka and minji near the entrance, your neat uniform geeling slightly too tight but strangely comforting.

"so... where are you guys going for high school?" minji suddenly asked, fiddling with the hem of her blazer that she only wore properly today.

"seoul high school," you answered, adjusting your ribbon. "it's nearer to my place."

moka gasped dramatically, clutching your arm. "no way! that's where i'm going too!"

minji's eyes widened before she broke into a grin. "me too! do you think we'll end up in the same classes again?"

"i don't know,"you chuckled, feeling lighter than you had in months. "but at least we'll be at the same school. that's what matters."

moka sighed in relief. "good. i don't think i can handle high school alone."

"you? alone?" minji snorted. "you'd make friends in five minutes."

"that's not the point! you guys are my friends."

your heart warmed at that. as much as you teased each other, you knew moka meant it. and truthfully, so did you.

before you could respond, the speakers crackled to on, signaling the start of the ceremony. the noise in the hall gradually died down as students shuffled toward their assigned seats.

you exhaled, turning back to moka and minji with a smile. "i'll catch you guys around there."

and as you took your seat, listening to the opening speech, everything suddenly felt light. you glanced around the room, taking it all in.

you caught glimpses of familiar faces, some you'd just known this year, and some you barely spoke to but still felt a sense of connection with.

and then there was leehan.

he was a few rows ahead, sitting with his group of friends. he laughed at something one of them said, his usual easygoing smile in place. you preferred him like that, a human.

he didn't look in your direction.

you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not. but you pushed the thought aside. today wasn't about old tensions or unanswered what-ifs. it was about new beginnings. and, you'll leave hongik to a new school, a fresh start, and the comfort of knowing moka and minji would be there with you without leehan's heavy and contagious aura creeping around the corner.

because really, what were the odds that he would end up at the same high school as you?

at least, that's what you thought when 10th grade began.

seoul high school

you arrived at your new classroom earlier than most students, enjoying the quiet hum of the morning. the sun and streamed through the windows, reflecting soft lights against the wooden desks. the wind gusted from the open pane and slightly blew your now slightly longer hair that reached your shoulder. everything felt light and promising. as usual, you struck up conversations with a few early classmates, effortlessly easing into small talk. it was a good day. nothing could ruin it.

or so you thought.

because then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of someone standing at the doorway. and with how the room temperature suddenly dropped, you already knew.

kim leehan.

no way.

yes, kim leehan.

his hair was a lighter shade of brown now, and he'd grown taller, noticeably so. a lot can change in a year, but somehow, he hadn't. you found yourself staring at him, completely unaware that your gaze was practically burning a hole through his forehead already.

and yet, leehan barely reacted.

he met your eyes in a blink, nodding slightly before walking past you. bot a single change in expression. no surprise. no recognition beyond what seemed like just common courtesy.

and, of course, he settled into a seat at the very back of the classroom. a mile away from you. predictable.

your shoulders tensed as you quickly looked away, patting your hair into place as if that would somehow steady your thoughts.

"what the hell is he doing here?" you hissed under your breath.

a million possibilities ran through your mind. had he always planned to come to seoul high? did he know you'd be here? or was this some dumb fate?

it didn't matter.

you hesitated for a second. maybe this time would be different? maybe he'd actually talk to you? but the way he acted, or rather, his complete lack of one was all too familiar. it's still the same stern leehan from middle school, at least when it came to you.

you swallowed back whatever words had formed in your throat, pushing away the disappointment, and turned back to your desk.

you don't know what it is with you desperately wanting to figure leehan out, maybe because you're still left hanging without knowing why.

the classroom had started filling up, students pouring in with laughter and chatter, and you forced yourself to join in.

the girl sitting next to you introduced herself, and you made an effort to be friendly, though it didn't come as naturally as it did with moka and minji. speaking of them, they were five classrooms away down the hall, which meant you'd be sitting through long, exhausting classes alone, at least for now.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"WHAT?!"

moka's shriek echoed through the cafeteria, loud enough to make half the students turn in your direction.

panicked, you lunged forward, clamping a hand over her mouth. "shut up," you hissed, glancing around as a few nosy students tried to eavesdrop.

moka peeled your hand off, her eyes still wide with pure disbelief. she leaned in, this time whispering harshly. "what?!"

you sighed, rubbing your temple. "yeah, he's in my class."

moka blinked at you, then at the ceiling, as if trying to process some kind of divine punishment. "no freaking way. out of all the high schools in seoul, and out of all the students... kim leehan?!" she shook her head. "that's terrifying."

"i know." you exhaled dramatically, slumping onto the table. "i didn't expect him to be here either."

moka crossed her arms. "and you're telling me we got separated, but you got stuck with him? this is the worst trade deal in history."

before you could respond, minji arrived, setting her tray of food down. "what are you guys talking about?"

moka wasted no time. "leehan is in y/n's class."

minji blinked. then-

"WHAT?!"

you and moka immediately reached over, swatting at her arms. "hey, shut up!" you whispered aggressively.

minji lowered her voice, but her eyes were just as wide. "wait, deadass? is this real?"

you sighed and nodded.

she hummed in thought. "ah, that explains it. i thought i saw a familiar back earlier, but i figured i was just hallucinating." she stabbed her food with a fork. "turns out, my nightmares are real."

moka shook her head in disbelief. "i mean, him being in the same high school? fine. but in the same class as y/n? that's like a match made in hell."

"a horror movie in the making," minji added.

"that time severus snape reincarnated as my classmate." moka laughed, as minji was enjoying it too. you rolled your eyes, reaching over to steal a chip from your friend's tray. "ha ha funny. let's not talk about it." but you admit, that was actually funny.

"we are talking about it," minji said, smacking your hand away from her chips. "how is he?"

you made a face. "what do you mean, how is he? he's the same leehan. acts like i carry the plague."

minji let out a long, unimpressed sigh. "figures."

"ugh, boooring." moka leaned back in her chair.

they both waved off the topic like it was a failed drama plot twist, swiftly moving on to minji's latest tragic news: taesan transferring to another school. minji whined about it for ten minutes straight while moka wordlessly devoured half her tray of food.

for a moment, you let yourself relax. laughing at their gossips, listening to minji's endless whining, watching moka inhale her meal like it was her last. everything felt normal.

then the bell rang, and just like that, it was back to reality.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the days blurred into a familiar cycle: class, break time, dismissal, repeat. you sat through lectures, quietly counting the minutes until you could meet up with minji and moka.

and leehan still existed like some kind of background npc with an unskippable quest. he sat at the farthest corner of the room, never spoke to you, never looked at you, never acknowledged you unless absolutely necessary. his coldness was almost unreal at this point. good ol' days

it was still bothering you at first. the way he moved through the world like you were invisible. the way he nodded politely to everyone else but barely glanced in your direction.

then, you just stopped caring, like, for real this time.

you weren't enemies. you weren't friends. just civil. yet, you made little to no efforts to ask leehan what's wrong. maybe that was your mistake.

somewhere along the way, the irritation faded into indifference. the tension between you two solidified into an invisible wall neither of you had any intention of breaking.

this went on until the end of 12th grade.

to be continued ..

[shamefulsho]

03 || 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 ♫

✩ - 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 Sero Hanta and L/n Y/n are each others hallway crush. ✩

genre: fluff/slice of life/ pining

requested: no

edited

pronouns: she/her

wc: 1,083

warnings: curse words, suggestive jokes

masterlist || 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 ♫

          "That's enough for today," Soft sun rays peaked through the gym's windows as Aizawa stood and began collecting his belongings. "Go shower and eat breakfast. And take it easy, overdoing it will give you opposite results."

          Because of his impressive performance during the sports festival, Shinso began his training with Aizawa for the hero course before school hours. Everything he was behind on,  Aizawa helped him with: Quirk training, costume design, support items, and most of all physical training.

          Shinso tiredly stared up at him from his position. He was sparring with Aizawa moments before when he had been body slammed, losing their brawl. Too exhausted to move just yet, he laid there on the cold gym floor, arms and legs littered with bruises.

          With a huff, Shinso forces himself back onto his feet, following his teacher's suit. "Hey, Mr. Aizawa, you're the home room for Class 1A, right?"

          "What of it?" Aizawa glances at him while he wraps his scarf around his hand.

          "What's your opinion of Sero Hanta?"

          Aizawa furrows his eyebrows in curiosity before closing his eyes and runs his free hand over his messy, tied up hair. "He has a good quirk and can use it well. He's not the brightest, but he makes up for it with his up-beat attitude. He'll be a good hero."

         Shinso hums approvingly before slinging his bag over his shoulder and exiting the gym. The grass around them gleamed, mildew still covering it.

         "Why do you want to know about him?" Aizawa questions while falling into step beside his student.

          "No reason,"

          "I answered your question. You answer mine,"

           Shinso hesitates, glancing at his mentors red eyes.  He takes in a deep breath of the clean, crisp air surrounding them before responding. "You aren't the type to involve yourself with student drama, so I guess I can tell you. I have a friend that's seen Sero at lunch, and she's into him. And he's very obviously into her."

           "You're right. I've seen more than enough school drama, drama exactly like that, for one lifetime. If I can help it, I'd rather not get involved,"

           "The problem is they haven't really talked. We only know his name because of the Sports Festival. We know nothing else about him,"

           "Ah, I see,"

            "Yeah, I figured if he was a horrible person, we should find out now rather than get to know the guy, and my friend gets taken advantage of or something similar,"

             "There are a few Class A students I'd suggest avoiding, but Sero isn't one of them. I'd even go as far as to say he's one of the better people in the class," they stopped as soon as they entered the large school, the humid, natural air being quickly replaced with cold, artificial air.

              "Tomorrow, same time, you know the drill," Aizawa reminds him before slinking off in the direction of the teachers' lounge.

             "Right," Shinso responds, heading towards the boys locker room.

              With the half hour he had remaining,  Aizawa took a quick shower before he settled into a corner in the teachers' lounge and attempted to finish updating a progress report on his students. Most of the information came easy; how they have improved and what weaknesses they still have, but there were some students that, while they did improve, it was skills that would improve inevitably with training it regularly.

           He chewed thoughtfully on a granola bar as he stared at Sero's file. The only weakness he could see was that his quirk wasn't necessarily strong. It was versatile but alone wouldn't do damage. Personality-wise, Sero was a fairly confident person. It shocked him that he didn't simply stride up to Shinso's friend and ask her out. Or perhaps he wrongfully assumed he was like Kaminari.

           Aizawa hummed before looking back down at the remaining 9 reports he had to complete. Without a second thought,  Aizawa shut the computer in front of him. He truly couldn't find it in him to be bothered right now.

          Grabbing his sleeping bag, Aizawa walks to his classroom, and as if on cue, the moment he reaches his class's familiar door, the bell loudly echoed through the halls.

           Students, all wearing UA's uniform, file into the halls. In spite of the early hours, each student energetically chatted with someone adjacent to them.

            Aizawa leaned against his door observing, and envying, the energy radiating off each student. Even when he was their age, he didn't have that liveliness.

         As he continued to observe each upbeat kid, a tired Shinso catches his eye, sticking out in the midst of beaming students. His pupil blinks at him repeatedly and harshly at him before gesturing with his eyes to the girl walking beside him, who was gazing affectionately at a very smitten Sero, who walked in the opposite direction of them.

           Sero's cheeks are dusted red and his eyes sparkle as he flashed a soft smile to Shinso's friend, who returned his smile and fiddled with her fingers as they passed each other. Even though the exchange lasted a handful of seconds, it certainly felt like an eternity.

           And, to add insult to injury, as Sero approached the door, he looked over his shoulder to steal one last glance at her disappearing figure, his lovesick smile still plastered on his face.

            Finally turning to take note of his surroundings, Sero immediately locked eyes with his teacher. Aizawa quirked a knowing black eyebrow at him. The faint red on his cheeks deepened and his soft smile morphed to a shocked expression. After a beat, the black-haired boy in front of him flashed an awkward, strained smile at him.

           "Mr. Aizawa! You're early.." he exclaims almost unsurely.

  ��       "Never again," Aizawa sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose as he retreats into his sleeping bag in a corner of the room.

           That was absolutely a reminder of why he didn't get involved in students' affairs. Watching High School drama unfold unfortunately came with the job of being a High School teacher. He noticed how certain pairs in his class looked at each other, but those pairs at least have had a conversation before.

           Shinso was certainly right; it didn't take an expert to see that they were pining for each other. Though, it did take an expert to notice that Sero's patience was wearing. His eyes held a gleam that appeared in training when he was determined to jump into action. Maybe he'll approach her soon.

[primaviva]

━ GWEN STACY

📂 all my gwen stacy works are written below ! this will be updated regularly.

oneshots

been like this

gwen has been acting distant lately. first, she started taking longer to reply to your texts, then she became less responsive to your calls, and now you hardly get to see your girlfriend at all. every time you do manage to talk, it feels like she's dreading something yet to come. it's starting to seem pretty obvious to you that gwen doesn't want to be in a relationship with anymore. and maybe you're not too far off from the truth. can she make it up to you though? (angst, suggestive)

drummers interlude

while hanging out in gwen’s room, you find a neatly folded piece of paper on the floor of her messy room, which is weird considering how messy she is. she clearly cares about it and upon questioning her, she doesn’t wanna spill her secret. it had you thinking, what was so special about the sheet of paper? (fluff!)

kiss it better

it's a rainy friday night, and you and your girlfriend, gwen aka ghost-spider, had plans to hang out. but when she stops responding to your texts, you can only worry. hours pass and your fears are realized when she finally shows up through your window. bloody, beaten, in need of the care only her favorite nurse can provide. you. (suggestive, angst, fluff)

gingerbread (xmas special)

making gingerbread with your girlfriend—gwen stacy. (fluff!)

better than revenge

gwen has liked you for a long time, harry knew this. to gwen's surprise, harry actually liked her for much longer, something she only learned when he confessed and asked her to prom. gwen's rejection hit harry hard. you can imagine gwen's shock when, just as she was about to tell you how she felt and ask to be your date, you revealed that you already had a date. harry osborn. (angst, suggestive at the end w/ fluff)

back to december

gwen couldn't sleep, her thoughts of you keeping her up all night. despite the snowy weather, you woke up from your sleep, exhausted and annoyed by notification that kept repeating on your phone. your expression drops when you see a text from gwen. “can i come over?” (angst to fluff)

wasted summers

one minute you were fighting the vulture, the next you were caring for gwen stacy. she hated you at first and thought you were just another person taking pity on her. as the two of you became closer, gwen realized she needed you. maybe as a friend or maybe as something more. but that all changed once miles came back. two months later, you were dropped. just like that. was everything between you two just all in your head? she said it herself, you were just a waste of time. (heavy angst to fluff)

personal heater

it’s getting a little cold in queens, and gwen doesn’t mind being your personal heater. even tho her methods are… unique. (fluff, suggestive)

truth or dare

paranoia and the creeping feeling that someone is watching you have been happening ever since the start of the school year once you got together with your boyfriend, randy robertson. but when he gets murdered and queens starts an uproar over this secret ghost killer, you get a call at night from a stranger in the middle of the night, and they wanna play a game. truth or dare? (angst, suggestive, slight fluff towards the end)

headcanons

barbie world

how gwen and you go to see the barbie movie (fluff!)

girlfriend

how you met, confessions, and relationship headcanons for your favorite ghost-spider. gwen stacy. (fluff, suggestive, small angst)

national girlfriend day

short drabble/headcanon on how gwen acts on national girlfriend day. (fluff!)

kisses

kisses and make outs with your girlfriend, gwen stacy. (suggestive, fluff)

jealousy, jealousy

your jealous girlfriend, gwen stacy, headcanons and imagines (fluff, suggestive, small angst?)

bookworm

gwen stacy with a girlfriend who loves reading. (fluff!)

icks

what gives gwen the ick in a girlfriend. (toxic traits, angst)

blurbs

can’t sleep without you

gwen has trouble sleeping sometimes due to all the stress of being spiderwoman and a student. when this happens and you’re still up, you’ll both stay up texting for a while before she forces her eyes to close. but the days she really wants to relax, which is every time she can’t sleep, she finds herself begging for you to take her in. (fluff!)

series

speak now (100 special)

more coming soon…

© 2023 primaviva — please do not copy or repost any of my works without my permission.

[fratboycipher]

for the oc ask meme:

break and nightmare for bit

failure, future, and pain for fan :)

HEHEHEHEHEHE

for bitflip

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

a handful of things! chief among them untreated psychosis and close behind it, killing the guy he currently derives all of his safety and security from. that second one would get him even on his meds i think

whats it look like? well, a psychotic break-- becomes withdrawn, violent, jumpy. cornered-animal type behavior. keep your hands out of biting distance

and yep, mattie has. he was weird about it. it did not end well for anyone, by which i mean somebodies corpse ended up getting cannibalized. bummer!

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

he doesnt have nightmares unless hes already in a bad state, which is to say unmedicated and not feelin safe. when he Is, the nightmares are mainly just unspecified freaky things that he wakes up from distressed but cant remember, or extremely mundane ones of realistic bad things happening he cant quite seperate from reality. he didnt really deal with them so much as just sometimes he was even more jumpy than usual, or hed half to take a bit to readjust to things that clearly had not actually happened he has not specifically mentioned them to anyone but thats just bc hes never seen the need to. however once he did greet mattie with "huh, you arent bleeding" and then didnt elaborate

for fan

failure: What’s your OC’s greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

i mean, he doesnt really consider anything in his life a failure, hes a surprisingly positive "bummer! oh well better luck next time" guy. like nothing really haunts him and regret isnt really an emotion he like, has great access too. gun to his head if he had to pick something he'd say not hightailing it out the window when tea screamed and hoping the whole situation got attributed to a weird dream, but thats not so much regret as he didnt much enjoy getting baker acted and would preferred to have avoided it. also he thinks its kind of embarassing

on that note yeah hes moved past it. hes moved so far past it that it makes tea mad does anyone else know? i mean like, faelan and probably other people hes friendly enough to talk to regularly have heard it cuz he tells it as a funny story sometimes. oh and everyone who was following his active longfic at the time on ao3 sorta-knows bc he missed a bunch of updates and then updated with the note "sorry i got baker acted"

future: What’s the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it’s a possibility?

related to the above, getting sectioned again but this time for more than 72-hours. in a broader sense, being forced back on medication followed by confinement. he reaaaaaaaally does not like antipsychotics hes taking steps to avoid it like obeying his restraining order zealously and being legally considered dead by everyone who knew him and stuff like that. its working out great! completely non-sarcastically actually hes well aware its a possibility, and he says thumbs down

pain: What’s the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

you are asking this question to a man who got partially dissolved by acid during sex once and thought it was great fun

though if you ask him directly what the worst pain hes ever felt is, he cant really answer it all that properly, because his brain kind of skips around a lot of those parts in order to maintain his "im a normal guy who hasnt like, died" delusion. so he cant provide an unbiased ranking exactly. as for pain he Can remember and rank, probably the time he dislocated his shoulder, not even from anything dramatic or over the top, he just fell out of a tree when he was like 8 his pain tolerance is like, normalish high, with the caveat of the brain skipping mentioned above, but hes also just the kind of guy who will walk on a sprained ankle because hes got somewhere to be regardless. however he is a HUGE whiny baby about basic burns. like they can be barely worth noting tiny injuries and he'll be whinging about it the whole time its healing. he just hates them

[impossiblesuitcase]

what are your fave jacinter hcs post revolution? :)

Here's one:

A few years after the revolution, Jacin starts medical school on Earth. That means a lot of time away from Winter, which he doesn't like, but he still has time to comm her during class and see her during the day. She stays local to his university, working with the Lunar embassy there in public relations.

They're both happy over that time. Jacin finally, finally starts to lose a bit of his grumpiness, his performative apathy, returning to the more openly emotional man she knew before he became a guard. Even their friends are surprised at this less abrasive version of him, but he still remains pleasantly snarky.

They want to get married, of course. Except he's being flogged by exams, and planning a wedding would take a lot of time and energy and he wants to give Winter the full attention and support she deserves. They agree to wait until there's a lull in his studies before that.

Then he starts his residency. He's working 12 hour shifts, with a 5 hour window for sleep, while still being on call. He gets breaks, sure, but he is flat out (Australian for busy). He sees Winter occasionally. Well, every day, but it's 5 minutes of a rushed meal and chatter and then he's off again. He hates it. She is generally frustrated by it. Still they both know it's where he should be right now, and he loves finally knowing how to help people, rather than just wishing he knew.

Six months in, Winter gets a comm while he's on a break:

Jacin: Winter, im sorry that im making you put up with this. you deserve to have the wedding that you dream of and a person who will be there for you always like i promised i would be. i dont deserve you.

Now another thing Jacin doesn't like--he isn't around to protect Winter. Sure, years have passed and she's more in control of her trauma and fears, but his peace of mind is never settled if she's not right next to him. So this residency period is hell for him. She spends a lot of time with their friends, sending him pics to assure him that she's with good company, regularly updating him on her wellbeing in what she calls 'sanity checks', a term he dislikes--"You're not insane."

So one day he's doing his final shift for the week when he receives this comm:

Winter: My darling Jacin. You mean everything to me. I need nothing more in life so long as you are in my arms, physically or in spirit. The walls bleed with you, my love, bleed water and diamonds and joy...

Walls. Bleeding?!

Jacin sprints out of the hospital. He tracks Winter's port, finding her just in the park on the next block. He's panting and stumbling when he finds her by the lake. She's donning a summery white dress, which on her rivals any vogue bride, and is holding a flower crown in her hands. She's decidedly not screaming or sobbing like the last time he saw her mention bleeding walls.

"Love?" he garbles out, racing up to her.

Winter gestures for him to slow down. Once in arm's reach, she plops the crown on his greasy, unbrushed hair and steadies his shoulders with her grip. "My darling Jacin. You mean everything to me. I need nothing more in life so long as you are in my arms, physically or in spirit," she repeats, in what is evidently a rehearsed speech.

"Bleeding walls?" he interrupts harshly.

"Hush." She pulls him into her arms. "Jacin, you are everything I deserve. I never want you to question that for a moment. Never let those clinical lights and smell of antiseptic confuse your senses into believing that I wouldn't want you, just the way you are."

There's more words spoken, from him and her, and his bewilderment and worry is still not supplanted with relief. Yes, she might assure him of this now, but he'll be back to endless shifts, and her patience will run out.

"I don't want to wait until things are calmer," she confesses, "because I love you with how things are now as much as I would at any other time." She pulls away and reaches up, adjusting his crown. "The crown has a purpose, you know. I bet you just thought I brought it because I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy."

She closes an eye. "You thought my message was crazy."

He's silent, because yes, he did.

"Once upon a time, I was a princess. So if I marry a boy, he becomes a prince. We aren't married yet, but I declare that we should make a promise first." She leans up and kisses him quickly. "There. That will suffice until the wedding. And this"--she gestures to the crown--"gives you your title."

"Title?"

"My prince. My knight and best friend. Until I change that to something else."

"Fiancé?"

"I was thinking husband."

He kisses her. Then he spends the next month in comms with his supervisor. He wrangles a 5-month break out of them, but he has to work 6 months first. During that time of work, he proposes, and now that he's more established in his residency, his hours drop. He does have time for wedding planning, and they wed the first week of that break. It's a busy few newlywed years, but it quiets down once he's out of his residency. He's still protective, yes, but he doesn't need to be by her side constantly anymore to be calm. He does not want to be known as a prince, even when Cinder and Kai joke that they'll make him one against his will.

He never protests when Winter calls him her prince.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Random Hashira Post #6

Another massive shoutout to the angel, @kindestwalkingmentalbreakdown for this idea! All credit goes to her

Car Trip with the Hashira

Himejima Gyomei

Gyomei is the one driving

Don’t ask how he is doing it. He just is

He is pretty silent, focusing on the road but if everybody is doing karaoke, he’ll join in

He doesn’t really mind staying in the car for a long time

Though, getting out to pick up food for Mitsuri or stopping for brief breaks is completely fine with Gyomei

He can finally take a break from driving and stretch after hours of being sat in a moving metal contraption

Kanroji Mitsuri

Mitsuri tries her best to make the trip fun but most of her attempts end in a awkward long silence

She has Shinobu(who’s in the passenger) play music and sing so everybody else will join in

Bad idea tbh. She’ll feel sick from how much she is upper-body dancing

Mitsuri always sits besides Obanai and ends up falling asleep on his shoulder

She can’t stay up for the night shifts, no matter how hard she tries

Mitsuri notices animals in the bushes and points them out to her fellow as they zoom past

Iguro Obanai

Most likely is doing his own thing instead of looking at the sights from the windows

Obanai gives less of a fuck of taking a long car trip but he gets bored quickly

So, he’ll sees it as a good opportunity to catch up on the books he has been putting off

Mitsuri falls asleep on him and his heart shoots out of his chest

Doesn’t care where he goes in the huge car. Either the front of the rear-end, it’s fine with him

Obanai, alongside Sanemi, take over night shift driving so sometimes, he’s sleeping to prepare for that

Kocho Shinobu

Refuses to sit in any spot but the passenger

It does seem bratty but she hates being squished so she ends up fighting with Sanemi for it until she wins

Shinobu spends most of the trip on her phone. She is bored in no time and tries to entertain herself

Shinobu is quite organised so she has everything she may need for the long trip at her feet

Likes to stir up her fellow Hashira by hiding away food from them for a bit

Shinobu will, most likely, text or call her girls back at the Butterfly Estate

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi definitely won’t definitely will take pictures of specific pasting sights for Genya

He argues with his fellow over using his window. They have their own, don’t bother him by looking over his shoulder

Sanemi takes power naps throughout the trip to prepare to take over for Gyomei

Sanemi gathers the rubbish of the Hashira’s dinner/snacks to put away himself

At times, he may buy things other than food/drinks on their brief stops like maybe a cute keychain for Genya

Sanemi, behind the wheel, purposefully wakes up his friends by honking the horn

Tokito Muichiro

Muichiro is fucking sleeping

He spends about 70% of the long-ass trip sleeping and sleeping peacefully, may I add

When awake, Muichiro is watching the clouds slowly shift from above. Without noticing the sights

Muichiro is regularly the one to point out when the car is low on fuel

Is definitely one of the quietest people on this trip

Muichiro draws random patterns on the foggy window when the outside is cold and the car is warm

Uzui Tengen

Tengen and cars. A common ally, so he finds the car trip to be casual. Not fun but not boring

Tengen, like Shinobu, chat with his wives over the phone at specific times to keep them updated

This man is a troll so whilst the car is driving, he will start shaking the car(very slightly) to annoy or worry his fellow Hashira

Tengen goes to the bathroom the most of the Hashira(since he always brings Sake) and is ballsy enough to release himself on the side of the road

Tengen draws with a art book he bought to kill time

He has dynamite in his travelbag so the Hashira have to stop him from throwing a lit stick at a asshole driver

Tomioka Giyuu

Once again. He doesn’t want to be in this situation at all

Giyuu hides in the furthest back seat in the car and simply watches out the window the entire trip

He’ll simply take his food off Mitsuri and eat in silence as everybody else chats away

Giyuu surprisingly knows how to fix a flat tire so if the car ever did need a quick tire change, he does it behind the Hashira’s backs

Giyuu collects cute accessories and/or gifts for Tanjiro and Nezuko

Giyuu likes to make a cute blanket nest before he goes to sleep in the car. It’s more comfy then the hard seats

Rengoku Kyojuro

Like Mitsuri, Kyojuro is attending the singing karaoke and eventually gets so loud that he can be overheard over the music

Kyojuro views the road trip as fun and is still so excited, even a hour or more into the ride

Brought portable board games to play with any nearby fellow Hashira

Kyojuro styles Muichiro’s hair to practice his hairdressing skills whenever he is bored

Is surprisingly a night owl so he stays up pretty late and offers to take over the night shift drive

Kyojuro also has a backup bag of clothes incase anybody needs some!

Once again, my creative juices are a bit floundered but hope you guys like it

[sincerely-sofie]

Check-in for October 24, 2023

I'm planning on doing regular check-ins that peeps can read or skip as much as they please. If you want to see behind the scenes of my projects or get to know me a bit better, feel free to peek below the cut! If not, just look at this color palette I made for my web dev class and admire it:

I know green and pink are my favorite colors, so I may be just a tad biased, but look!!! Look at how pretty it is!!!

I plan to use the palette for a website that is basically a guided tour of a fictional town that's populated by bug people, and while the colors used in the initial character sketches are still my preference, I don't think they look too bad in this proof of concept image! They definitely need some tweaking, and some details in the art itself need correcting, but all around it's not too shabby :>

I also made the logo for the website which, while uninspired, doesn't look that bad. I'm not in a logo design course, so I can't be too upset about that. I made two versions--- a light and dark one--- so that I could have it appear on most colors of background.

Also, I've printed off tons of art and stuck it on my walls over the past few days to inspire me. The art wall has been very successful in beautifying my space, but I've been a bit too worn out to draw much other than the start of a project where I draw individual generations of pokemon by memory. Venusaur looks exactly like I remembered it, but also nothing like that at all. Charizard's line only looks halfway decent by virtue of Twig existing.

I must say, though, that I am charmed by these drawings' doofy lil grins. Just look at Bulbasaur. He is raring to go! Charmander is ready to shake your hand! Look at these lads!!

I've been trying to learn Clip Studio Paint by drawing a new The Present is a Gift comic in it, but I cannot begin to explain to you all how intimidating of a program it is for me. I'm a Procreate gal, y'all. I have a conniption whenever I look at the Photoshop interface. When I look at this:

I am desperate for the cozy white space of this:

I spent over an hour struggling to draw a simple piece for Instagram, admittedly while desperately trying to get OBS to not give out on me while I recorded my screen, but I think that I'm slowly learning how to not faint whenever the Paint window boots up.

Anyhoo--- enjoy the WIP teaser for the upcoming comic featuring a chat between Dusknoir (piloting a KO'd Twig) and Darkrai amidst a cave-in. If I am found dead, know that said comic worked alongside Clip Studio Paint to kill me.

As an update for The Present is a Gift in terms of the fanfic, I recently broke 6,000 words for the first draft. I haven't been writing too regularly--- when I do, it's usually to just sit down for 30 minutes max to try and get a little bit of a head start on NaNoWriMo coming up--- but whenever I do, the words come in batches of 400-700+ at a time. My dudes, I used to take a week to reach the lower end of that amount. I've been beating perfectionism back with a stick while sobbing "Quantity begets quality! Quantity begets quality!", but since I've set myself a challenge to write as many garbage words as possible without editing them until the first draft is done, I've been writing--- and enjoying the process of writing--- more than I have in my entire life.

I've been trying to win NaNoWriMo, a challenge where you write 50k words in November, for the last 7 years. I resigned myself to being a NaNo rebel and trying to write just 15k words next month. But if I keep cranking out 1,500 words in under two writing sprints per day--- without properly trying to eliminate distractions--- I think I could actually win for once??? I didn't think Pokemon Mystery Dungeon fanfiction would be what gave me a fighting chance at winning NaNoWriMo, but here I am. PMD brainrot truly is a miraculous thing, but I'll have to see exactly miraculous it is on the 1st of November.

So... yep! I probably should have figured out a way to sign off on check-in posts before deciding to publish this. Oops. Welp. Um. Thanks for reading?

Sincerely, Sofie

[irregulardiaryposts]

20:40 07/03/2024

okay wow well its been well over two years since i updated this 'diary' blog lol

so weird seeing all those old posts about being a teenager with existential thoughts lol i dont really think like that anymore, at least not so much. i guess an update is in order then lmao okay so im in my 3rd year of uni now and im doing my year abroad! doing it in a small city in spain and i really quite like my job, ive only got 14hrs, i have a 3 day weekend, the city is small so i can walk everywhere and this job really gives me a sense of purpose that ive been missing in my life. makes me really realise that university is NOT for me lmfao i was so depressed during my second year i probs went to like 20% of my classes loool. im pretty sure i mightve almost failed aswell but since the professors were doing a marking boycott they released grades without marking the final exam and so since i was already doing well enough in all my classes i passed! quite lucky i think cos i wouldve been so entirely embarrassed and ashamed if i had to repeat a year cos of mental health. i think things are better here tho my issues havent disappeard completely like eg i have these evening classes 6-7.40pm tuesdays and thursdays and for the past like month i havent attended :/ at first it was cos i was sick (i think it was covid lol either from glasgow or on the plane back idk) and then i just didnt go back to class. i think my main excuse is that that is dinner time for me and i dont wanna move dinner time lol. but also i think the class itself is just not for me i dont feel like i learn a whoooole lot while im there and learning on apps is easier for me? but i always felt better for going to the classes cos i was like ha! im not depressed would a depressed person do this!? but of course depression doesnt work like that and i think i need medicated ! but that seems too scary to say. but at least i found someone to do a language exchange with! ive only had one hour with her in spanish, which was yesterday, but i already feel like ive improved lmaooo like i literally dreamt last night in a mix of spanish and english ahahahah cos when i think about it i literally have not ever regularly spoken spanish, ive only really spoken for activies in class or speaking exams so no wonder i have 0000 confidence in my speaking abilities but im hopeful that this will really improve my speaking :) about my job i guess- i work in a high school and i really enjoy interacting with the kids they really do make every day different and more interesting so i am grateful for them but sometimes damnnn sometimes i wanna jump out the window especially with this third year class they are the class KNOWN for being a bitof a pain lol and sometimes i have to lead the class by myself lmaooo mid u ik im 20 but i dont look it and they certainly dont treat me like an adult or a teacher and ngl they are a bit disrespectful at times but also what are u gonna do they are 14 and i have no proper teaching experience to help them by myself i can only hope that im actuallt helping them learn english lol. it is quite difficult tho with my scottish accent to try and sound as clear as possible because i pronounce almost 100% of the vowel sounds differently than rp english which is what i think they are used to so i have to realllyyyy annunciate all my words and man is it tiring lol.

what else. im going to madrid this weekend with bestie and im really looking forward to having a relaxing and fun time but i still havent packed my bags looooooool i alwyas do this tho and its fine not a big deal at all but i def need to do it tonight cos im leaving tomorrow immediately after work so ill have to have an actual breakfast and take snacks with me. im really enjoying my time in spain or at least im trying to but i feel like i have pushed myself enough out my comfort zone to be able to look back on this and say yeah i really took advantage of that. like i think i need to be more personable (is that a word yes it is i used it right) in teaching and be more interactive with them and stuff also i feel like i shoulve arranged a language exchange sooner cos i think this will really help, and i need to interact more with the other assistant but the thing is is im just not a sociable personnnnnnn aghgh. any way cutting this short cos i need to pack my bags for my trupppppp

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted part 7

I’m back! Married and ready to rumble! I am actually a Price now too haha. I finally have the game which I spent like … 6/7 hours playing today 😂 I’m loving it!

Thank you to argella1300 on AO3 for the suggestion about the sunburn and lotion lmao, I loved it!

Warnings - smut tbh. Explicit smut. That’s it I think 😂 some fluff and angst

I can’t work out how to do a tag list it doesn’t work 😭 this isn’t proof read!!!

Part 8

A few days later you had been sent to Suez, in Egypt. A brief mission to intercept some stolen weapons, while you were waiting for Makarov to make his next move. Laswell was keeping Price updated. The plan was for the boys to raid the local Suez port, locate the weapons cache and return to base. Bish. Bash. Bosh.

The morning sun beamed in through the dusty windows of the small base you were situated on. You were in your room finishing getting ready when you overheard Gaz and Soap talking. ‘Soap, you’re not harder than the sun. You need to put on sun lotion.’ Soap snorted ‘Naw pal, I’ll be fine! I don’t burn.’ Hearing this absolute stupidity you grabbed a bottle of factor 50 and stormed down the corridor. ‘JOHN MCTAVISH!’ His eyes widened in fear as your voice boomed into his ear. Gaz and Price smirked and left out a laugh in unison. ‘You’ve fucked it now son’ Price laughed.

Rounding the corner you stood arms crossed glaring at the terrified solider. ‘If you come back burnt, so help me god I’ll slap you into next week. You’re pale as fuck of course you’ll burn! Our Celtic skin hates the sun you absolute dickhead. Put. This. On.’ Soap looked like a scolded child as he went to open his mouth. ‘Don’t. You. Dare’ you interrupted, ‘skin cancer is a leading cause of death. Wear it.’ Price and Gaz were stifling their giggles as John took the lotion from your hand. ‘That goes for you too’ you scowled looking over at Gaz and Price. ‘Yes ma’am’ they replied in unison.

Ghost walked in through the front door after preparing the jeeps for the journey. He was wearing tan cargo pants and a tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up exposing his tattoo. ‘Fuckin boiling out there’ he muttered under his breath. He walked in to you staring down the rest of the team ‘alright?’ He questioned looking cautiously over to you. ‘Yeah, Soap just thinks he’s harder than the sun is all.’ You shot him a warning look out of the corner of your eye. Soap fake surrendered putting his hands in the air, still looking like a terrified child.

‘Anyway … ‘ Ghost continued ‘let’s move out. Meeting our contact in 30 minutes. Gaz you’re driving, Price upfront, me and Johnny will take the back.’ The three men nodded and filed outside, Ghost approached you and squeezed your wrist. You smiled up at him ‘be careful Simon. Please?’ He silently nodded before walking out.

As you glanced down you saw Soap had left the sun lotion on the table. That stupid fuck. Grabbing the bottle you barged past Ghost and launched the bottle full force at Soap. The bottle collided with the back of his head with a satisfying thump. Gaz and Price fell about laughing, trying to keep some composure before going on the mission. ‘Don’t fuckin try me John! I ain’t dealing with you like last time!’

The last time being when you were in Mexico on a stakeout, Soap and Ghost had gotten horrendously sunburnt, burns and blisters on their arms. It was cloudy out and they didn’t listen to your warning of the high UV index that day. They both came back with crispier skin than the chickens at KFC. They needed inadine patches to help the skin heal and the open sores to be cleaned regularly. Which of course meant more work for you, you gave them a huge lecture on sunburn and the dangers of it. Ghost took it on board, Soap however clearly did not.

It took weeks to heal and they both moped around base grimacing in pain every time they saw you. Soap tried to avoid you as much as he could, petrified you’d show him the pictures of sunburn again. ‘McTavish! Sit your ass down and look at these. This will be your skin if you don’t apply lotion. I’ve told you time and time again to wear it. You’re a pain in the fuckin neck.’ It took all of your restraint not to slap his sunburn to teach him a lesson.

Soap rubbed the back of his head, a red patch forming already. ‘Fuckin hells bells woman! You need to be on a rounders team with an arm like that.’ Laughing to yourself Ghost came up behind you ‘could you not concuss my Sargent before the mission? He’s useless as it is.’ Soap shot his head around ‘aw come on now Lt. I know you’ve got a soft spot for me.’ Ghost rolled his eyes before walking over the the jeep and sliding in next Soap.

Over the next few hours you caught up on paperwork of minor injuries you had to deal with. Ready to put onto their clinical notes back at base. You cleaned your Glock 17 and timed yourself taking it apart and putting it back together again. Determined to beat Ghosts time he set.

The boys retuned and filled you in on the operation, it actually went straightforward for once. A couple of scrapes and bruises but all in all nothing much for you to do. ‘Laswell found what she needed to?’ You asked Price tucking into your protein bar. ‘Just waiting for confirmation kid, Makarovs been seen back in Russia, fucker is working with Hassan. Known terrorist, who we also know is working with the cartel in Las Almas.’ Your eyes widened, Jesus, this was extensive. ‘Christ, back to Mexico I take it then?’

‘Yeah, meeting up with Shadow Company. They’ll be assisting us with finding Hassan, and in turn Makarov.’ Price rubbed his beard as he spoke, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Evac tomorrow at dawn, get your heads down. Got a hell of an operation a head of us.’

1 week later

You sat in your new clinic at Alejandro’s base in Las Alma’s, Alejandro is the leader of Los Vaqueros. Smooth talker and passionate about protecting the people who live there. Rodolfo, the cutie that he is, is Alejandro’s right hand man, served with each other for 20 years. They looked after you and got you what ever you needed.

There was a knock at the door, turning round your eyes lit up seeing Ghost stood at the door. ‘Hey’ you said quietly, offering him a small grin. ‘We’ve got a hit on Hassan, heading out tomorrow. Just waitin’ for Graves.’ Your smile soon dropped. You hardly spent any time with each other since the night you spent together. Part of the job you guessed, but it still got you down. You walked past him and shut the door, locking it. ‘What you doin’?’ He asked puzzled. You leant on your door with your hands behind your back and bit your lip. ‘I don’t know when I’m gonna see you next. This operation is huge. I have you here and now, I’m making the most of it.’

You slinked over to him and slid your hands down his arms. You inhaled his scent, musky and clean, grabbing hold of his wrists you stroked his skin peeking out between his sleeves and gloves. He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Your touch always managed to break down the walls he kept up, ever so slightly. It offered him some grounding from the never ending storm that consumed his mind. He cupped your face, and studied your eyes, your beautiful eyes. ‘I’m comin’ back’ he said gently. Tears began to stab the back of your eyes ‘I’ll hold you to that Riley. I like havin’ you around.’

He pulled you into him and encased you in his arms, you both stood like this for some time. He placed a masked kiss on your forehead, ‘I take it you locked the door for a reason?’ You smirked and looked up at him, giving your best doe eyes. ‘Maybe.’ With that he pulled up his mask to his nose and swooped onto your lips. He forced his tongue inside of your lips, both tongues fighting for control. Teeth clashed together in the fierce mess of desire that was your kiss. Struggling for breath you pulled away, adrenaline surging through you.

Fumbling with his belt, you eventually undid it before undoing your own. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so needy’ he mumbled into your ear. ‘Shut up Simon.’ You slid your hand into his trousers and grazed the tip of his hard cock, eliciting a gritted hiss from him. ‘On your fuckin knees’ he growled as he pulled your hair. Doing as he wished you sank to your knees, maintaining eye contact with him. Shimmying his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock you placed a tender kiss on the tip. He cupped your jaw and caressed it with his thumb.

Taking him into your mouth he threw his head back, a guttural moan building in the depths of the chest. You swirled your tongue around his shaft before you started bobbing your head. Setting up your own rhythm you dig your nails into the material of his trousers. The length was perfectly perfect, but he was thick. Placing his hand on the back of your head he pushed you beyond your limit. Gagging noises filled the room, tears pricked your eyes as you fought for breath. The familiar taste or pre-cum slid down your throat as he let out desperate breaths. Spit adorned your chin as you tried to keep up with his demanding pace. Seemingly knowing you were reaching your limit he pulled out and stood you up, licking the drool of your chin. ‘Atta girl.’

He backed you up against the counter and lifted you onto it with ease. Yanking down your trousers he pulled one leg free and hooked it around his waist. He spat into his hand and cupped your already soaking cunt. ‘Fuck, so wet already.’ You moaned in reply, the feel of his fingers on your swollen clit felt like ecstasy. ‘Just fuck me’ you moaned into his mouth kissing him, ‘please. Need you so bad.’ He lined himself up at your entrance and slid himself in with ease. You pulled him into your neck groaning into his ear as he peppered your neck with kissed. His hips slammed into yours, the feel of your wet cunt around his cock made him pick up his pace. He found your collarbone and bit into it, ‘fuck Simon.’ You grasped at the back of his neck trying to steady yourself. ‘So … tight … fuck’ he moaned into your neck. ‘Harder Simon, f … faster, please please please.’

Your needy begs were making him come undone, the whimper in your voice drove him to the edge. He was so close but he refused to finish until you did. He placed your hand on your clit ‘show me, show me what you do when you think of me’ he demanded. You rubbed firm circles onto your clit, instantly you felt your stomach tightening. ‘God I’m so close Simon’ you panted. ‘Good girl, keep goin’ for me, wanna feel you come.’ He pulled you closer by your hip, bruise marks were certain, but the thought of him marking you excited you even more. You slammed your forehead against his chest to muffle the moans, your other hand cradled the back of his head. ‘Come for me, that’s it come on my cock.’

The building orgasm was becoming unbearable, the coil in your stomach was so close to snapping. A flurry of begs left your mouth as he he whispered filthy praise into your ear. Finally it snapped, your moans bordered on sounding possessed as he slammed his cock into you. ‘Where?’ Almost immediately you answered ‘come in me Simon, please, I wanna feel you.’ He pulled your head back by your hair ‘you’re a fuckin filthy bitch’ he groaned as he slammed his lips into yours. Kissing you he came as he moaned into your mouth. His come filling you up, leaving you feel completely satisfied.

As he pulled away the sudden realisation of what he’d done had set in, his widened as he looked at you. Knowing instantly what he was thinking you cupped his jaw and laughed ‘I’m on the pill, don’t worry.’ He relaxed into your touch as he pulled out, watching the mess he’d made slip out of you. ‘In that case, can’t waste it can we?’ He used two fingers to push his cum back into your freshly used cunt. The sudden overstimulation took you by surprise, yelping in surprise. ‘Fuuuuuck Simon.’ Your eyes rolled back as you bit your lip.

As the wave of pleasure slowly dissipated you were met with Simon staring at you. ‘Yes?’ You smiled. He leant in and kissed you again before tucking the stupid strand of hair behind your ear. ‘Man of many words aren’t you Riley?’ You teased. But you knew he struggled to say how he felt, so you’d take his gestures of affection. Actions speak louder than words so they say.

After he helped you clean yourself up he held your hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Come back to me Simon’ you repeated ‘please.’

‘Can’t leave you lookin after Soap on your own can I?’ You snorted, he was like your child, especially with the type of banter you had between you. ‘No, you absolutely cannot. I’ll kill him.’ Ghost stood and placed one more kiss on your forehead ‘We’ll update you when we can love.’ Nodding you watched as Ghost left your room, sadness weighed heavy upon you. This was a huge mission before them. You knew they were more than capable, all of them. They were your boys.

Ghost couldn’t cope with all the emotions he was feeling because of you. His mind was screaming at him not to carry on with you. To break your heart and stay away from each other. But his heart wanted you, wanted some happiness, wanted something his mother would be proud of. The last happy memory he had was of hugging his mother. But he felt he didn’t deserve happiness, he was a killing machine, cold, somewhat psychopathic. He didn’t deserve you, your touch, your smile, your warmth. He deserved to feel the way he feels because of everything he’s done. But your presence never left him, never left his mind, his thoughts. He couldn’t shake how you affected him, how much he needs you. You completely and utterly haunted his mind.

[piedpiperworld]

Functional Duck Pond [DESCRIPTION]

Farm your own ducks, collect eggs, feathers, befriend them, while teaching your kids resposibility and duties!

THIS MOD IS BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

How does it work?

1. To begin farming ducks, first you need to buy the Functional Duck Pond from build/buy mode, it can be found under Outdoor Activities category and it costs 250 simoleons.

2. Once placed, you can click on the pond to purchase ducks to inhabit it. You can choose between two types of ducks (white or mallard). Once purchased a duck vfx of the respective ducks will show up in the water.

Taking care of your ducks

The pond needs to be cleaned regularly. You can see your pond’s  status by hovering over it with your cursor. Usually you'll see three statistics constantly - activity level (indicates you own ducks), hygine level and hunger levels. And two other statistics will show up on certain occasions - eggs level and feathers level (shows up only when they are ready to be collected, usually once a day).

When the pond is dirty, make sure you clean it so your ducks will stay healthy. Sims must also click on the pond to feed the ducks, to feed them is required 5 barley grains (so make sure to download the harvestable). Make sure to remember to do  this every 12-15 hours to keep your ducks well fed, if you leave your duck hungry for too long they can die from starvation. Hovering over the pond  will show you whether your ducks are hungry or fed.

The pond has custom states and animations! When it's dirty has the stinky vfx from the chicken coop and the back container gets full with dirt.

When your ducks lay eggs, the nests fill with eggs.

NOTE: If at the same time the pond is dirty and the eggs are ready, it won't show both states, only one of the two!

You can find a golden egg!

When collecting eggs your Sim has the chance to find a golden egg, which they can then exchange for money or they can find 6 regular eggs that can be used in cooking, they are SCCO tagged.  They can also collect duck feathers, which can be sold for profit or used to make pillows on the Loom. The interaction for eggs and feathers show up only when there are items to collect, otherwise they are not visible.

NOTE: If you keep your ducks hungry for too long, there won't be a warning notification, they will directly die from starvation (I tried to add notice, but no matter what I tried it didn't want to show up)! So, make sure to feed them frequently.

Socializing with your ducks

Your Sim can socialize with the ducks, which will increase their relationship. Any sim from child to elder can take care of the ducks. Children and teens develop their responsibility when taking care of the ducks. Sims can also hug ducks and ducklings. Toddlers can talk to the ducks and observe them.

Exchange for meat

This interaction will send your ducks to the meat store and in return your Sim will find in their inventory 5 packages of duck meat. No need to worry for pressing the option by mistake, because you'll have a pop up window asking you if you are sure you want to perform this interaction. If the relationship with the ducks is over 60%, the whole household will recieve a sad moodlet.

If the ducks die from stravation, a generic sad moodlet from the game will be added to each household member, no matter of the relationship value with the pond.

UNSOLVED PROBLEMS:

For now there is still no sound effect for the pond, I tried everything I managed to find online, I even managed to make the sound work until the latest update and then it gone again. I'll see in the future if I can update this.

When you exchange the ducks for meat the generic moodlet which shows up when the ducks die shows up as well, for now I couldn't avoid this either.

DOWNLOAD (Early Access)

Release to Official Patrons: 22nd of May

Release to Public: 1st of June

@maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz

[random-yandere-fandom]

Hi 💕. Can I ask about Ciel, Meliodas and L with pregnant darling 👉👈. (Everything you write is amazing!)

Thank you!🥰 I hope you like it!

Btw. Tumblr had a new update or something and writing with it is different now and I despise it. For some godforsaken reason it won`t let me add any gifs on my laptop, I`ll try again later on my phone. Alright, it at least works on my phone. Sorry, just had to rant about it.

Yandere Ciel with a pregnant darling

To say he is worried is an understatement. There are so many factors that endanger the child`s life that frustrate him to no end. First, Ciel doesn`t know for certain how much time he has left and if he would be a good father. Second, he is constantly targeted so from now on you`re only allowed outside in the garden when at least two servants, Sebastian or himself are with you. Even then the Phantomhive is anxious, but your health is more important now. 

On that note, Ciel is thinking about assigning you your own personal doctor, the best of the best. He believes that having Sebastian around isn`t enough this time, especially since the demon has other matters to attend to. He`ll search for someone trustworthy and competent and with his abilities he`ll find the right person.

All servants are told to protect you even more than before and to get you anything you wish for. At least one of them is always near you. Tanaka makes you calming tea, Baldroy tries to make anything you might be craving, Finny tries to fill the garden in front of your window with beautiful flowers and birds, while Mey-Rin tries her best to keep everything around you clean and neat and Sebastian takes care of the mess those three make. 

After getting over most of his paranoia Ciel will spend entire days around you, moving his workload to wherever you want to be. He studies about pregnancy and childcare in his free time, informing you about anything he deems as important. He`ll be there for you when you have morning sickness and through anything else that might come. The closer the due date gets, the more excited and anxious he will become.   

Yandere Meliodas with a pregnant darling

He`s a lot more cheerful, wanting to celebrate as soon as you tell him the news. Meliodas will want to invite everyone in the whole kingdom, that`s how excited he is but after being told that stress is not good for you, he`ll settle for the other sins and their partners. Another fact that plays apart of that decision is his possessiveness and protectiveness, after calming down a bit he`ll start to worry, too. 

The party will be without much alcohol, something very unusual, but Meliodas can`t stand the thought of you or the child being harmed in any way, be that through someone else in their drunken stupor or through glasses getting accidentally switched and you consuming some. Everyone except for you will get exactly one glass and that`s it.

The demon might have noticed your pregnancy before thanks to his perceptiveness if he wasn`t so clueless about it. While the thought of a mini you running around has crossed his mind and he liked it, that was as far as it got. Now though, he will make his research, specially about hybrids if you aren`t a demon. To ensure both the health of both of you, Merlin will regularly check up on your body, carefully using magic as to not harm either of you.

It won`t look like it, but Meliodas is far more alert than normal, covering it up with his normal humor. Any threat will be taken care of discretely and quickly, you`ll barely notice that Meliodas was gone.

All in all though he`s the most excited, he`ll lay his head on your belly every so often and the day he feels a kick for the first time he`ll be grinning for hours, exclaiming how your child will surely be a good fighter with such an amazing attack. Meliodas will talk proudly about his kid to anyone who might listen and won`t stop for a long time. He`s impatient when waiting for them to be born but he`ll be even more gentle with you than ever before, listening to most of your requests with no complaints.   

Yandere L with a pregnant darling

L will notice your symptoms and put two and two together before anyone else. He will suggest to test it right away, being quite blunt about it. When his theory is proven right his reaction will be more subtle than anyone else`s, but for you it`s noticeable from the start. 

While it seems there isn`t much emotionally going on inside his head, his actions tell otherwise. He`ll have a house prepared, somewhere further away from civilisation but safe, maybe next to a lake if that`s what you like. In the end it`s important to him that you can get fresh air whenever you need it and he`ll make doing his job there work somehow. Even though it seems like you two are alone, there will be high security and a doctor on stand by some kilometres away. 

L knows that this can be scary for you, so he tries his best to be there for you and comfort you, any doubts you might have will be erased through his irrefutable logic and assurance. Watari will be ordered to buy anything you want and get you some books on pregnancy so that you can inform yourself.

Fascination is the best way to describe how L reacts, he will be enchanted, occasionally glancing at you and your belly even though he should be working. His head is full with ideas of possible names and stuff he has to get that it`s hard for him to concentrate. You`ll also notice that he will become more and more clingy as time progresses, he`s a fan of touching your belly and talking to it, hoping that the child reacts in some way. 

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[booppooo]

Body Guard: Chapter Two

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader Series

( Gif by @korgidorgi )

AN: just wanted to let you guys know this book is going to have very slow updates, I've been working a ton lately and been super tired and not motivated to write too much. I want to focus on quality over quantity, so I hope you guys do enjoy the story. Also I'm always open to like writing tips and if you spot any grammatical errors lemme know!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

Word count: 3345

-

June 11th, 46 hours remaining

Y/n followed Abby like a small child, practically stepping on her heels. Abby had left base countless times so she had no reason to fear what was beyond the walls of the stadium; but Y/n did. When she traveled she went with groups of armed soldiers and never traveled on foot. She wasn't built to be a traveler nor a soldier, therefore the terrain beyond her comfort zone would be treacherous, whereas to Abby, it was second nature.

She gripped the straps of her pack and mentally double checked what she had packed. Needless to say her load wasn't very light or practical, but in the midst of a zombie apocalypse who knows what could happen. This world was full of death and destruction and thousands more 'what if' scenarios, and as a doctor she needed to be prepared to respond to all 'what ifs.'

"Uhm, the main exit is that way." Y/n chirped from behind the taller woman.

Abby continued off in a different direction, "We're not taking the main exit."

Although Y/n was book smart and quick on her feet in a hospital setting, she lacked street smarts. Luckily for her, Abby had a solid stone face when lying and knew how to maneuver her way around people to avoid getting in trouble. Whether it was a real skill or not, it was helpful, especially now that they needed to lay low.

They managed to slip from the stadium and began the same route Abby journeyed on to retrieve Owen. Y/n mumbled how unprofessional and shallow it was Abby was for bringing back Owen, but low enough that Abby didn't notice, or didn't want to notice. To Abby, this was going to be a quick mission - get in, grab the supplies, get out, the only real obstacle was going to be Y/n's egotistical attitude which Abby had yet to figure out how to conquer.

On the flip side, Y/n was riddled with anxiety. If she failed to heal Isaac - she was toast. Not only that but she had never in her life killed another human being. Sure she had shot some infected, but hand-to-hand combat and shoot-outs were foreign to her. Growing up she was always kept in the shadows and hidden when danger lurked, then once she landed a position at the WLF she was always handled with great care and sheltered from combat. She wasn't sure how'd she'd react to seeing death before her eyes and not being able to run to their aid. Would she just freeze? Would she scream?

Abby used the butt of her pistol to break a window and leapt through to the room inside. Y/n could hear her shuffling through drawers and shoving items into her pack.

"What are you doing?" Y/n wondered, standing her ground.

"I could ask you the same question." she shoved some cloth into her pack.

"I'll cut myself going through this."

Abby rolled her eyes with a sigh. Usually she was traveling with people who's hands were roughed up enough to not get sliced up going through broken windows, but she was dealing with someone who regularly washed their hands and used lotion.

"No you won't, just...get a running start and jump through." this was common sense to her.

Y/n scoffed and peered at Abby in disbelief. She couldn't quite grasp how she would have her do something this dangerous so nonchalantly. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a choice, and Abby was already shuffling around in the next room. After silently cursing Abby's name, she took a few steps back and then launched herself through the window. However, she wasn't able to stop her momentum and found herself slamming into the cement wall and then back on her ass.

Abby popped around the corner from the other room, "See, it worked." a smirk on her lips.

Y/n mocked her with an immature voice and brushed herself off. This would be one of many windows she would be leaping through, and one of many snarky comments from Abby. Good thing they only had to spend a few more hours together.

-

June 11th, 37 hours remaining

The sun was setting over the horizon and the Earth began to cool. The color show was vanishing from the sky and a few stars began to shine in the darkness. Pressure was staring to set in and the bomb that was Isaac was ticking away. Both women knew they should catch some rest so they would be able to plow through the last few miles to the hospital, but rest seemed ridiculous when fate was on the line.

"We should keep going through the night." Y/n insisted, they could rest back at the base.

Abby shook her head, "It's too dangerous, infected roam more freely at night."

"So? Why can't you just kill them?" it seemed so simple to Y/n.

"It'll be a little hard to when I'm dead."

"Who says you'll die?"

"Who says I won't?"

The soldier smirked at the doctor's long face and urged them to set up camp for the night. It was the smart thing to do, but time wasn't on their side, it was better to return early than late. They had landed in an abandoned motel and had already cleared the area, all that there was left to do was lay out their sleeping bags and eat dinner.

"Abby we have to keep going." the doctor implored edging her way away from the motel.

"No, we don't. We need to eat and sleep."

Y/n was not fond of the irony nor Abby's stubbornness. She needed Abby to guide and protect her, and without her she was surely a goner. But Y/n wasn't going to let Abby force her to be stationary for the night, they were going to continue. So, Y/n turned on her heels and waltzed off. Abby surely knew how helpless she was in the face of death and would be on her tail in no time.

The blonde watched her walk off, arms crossed and leaning against the wall of the motel. Abby was certain she would be back, realizing she had no clue which direction to be waltzing off in. And if she didn't, she'd find her stuck somewhere struggling to open a door or too scared to break a window.

Or she'd be dead.

"Shit." Abby grumbled to herself, sliding her pack back on and jogging off into the night.

-

It was damp and cool that night, the man in the moon was smiling brightly down on the world and offered eerie yet comforting light for Y/n. She had just passed through a gas station and an old book store and was now following the open road.

Truth be told, she was lost, but she was moving forward. In her mind it was better than sleeping and Washington wasn't so expansive that she'd throw them completely off track. The only aspect that worried her was Abby hadn't made an appearance, and she feared she wouldn't. Eventually she would run into some unwanted company and have to fight them off, though it wouldn't be much of a fight. All Y/n had was a switchblade tucked away in her sock, and if things took a turn for the worst, there was a loaded pistol in her pack - a loaded pistol that she had never used.

As Y/n traveled she studied the overgrowth of Washington and how it seemed to consume the buildings and roads like a black hole. Mother Nature was swallowing the concrete and towers into its soil in an attempt to restore its natural beauty. She imagined the world filled with with greenery and flowers, flowing streams and tall, shady trees. The earth was on the path to restoration by unleashing the cordycepts infection on man kind, now all that was left was destroying what they had built - civilization.

-

June 12th, 30 hours remaining

"Shit shit shit!" Abby swore frantically.

She had quite literally been running all night looking for Y/n. At first she was confident she'd find the doctor struggling to bypass a building or worst case scenario past out from hitting her head or something other. She was sure she'd find her by sunrise and convince her to sleep a few hours and get something to eat. But now the sun was up and another day had begun...and Y/n was MIA.

Abby groaned about how she was going to lay it on Y/n once she found her, and now that Abby was sleep deprived and hangry she was that much more irritated. Then after grumbling under her breath about how she was going to grab up Y/n the moment she found her, guilt would settle in her stomach and make her feel heavy. All this time she was thinking about how she was going to punish her and she could be dead. It certainly wasn't a factor to rule out, nor was it pessimistic since the reality of it was Y/n was virtually dead the moment she walked away from Abby.

The blonde splashed some water on her face and took a deep breath. Right now her main objective was getting the doctor back, they could bicker later. If she did turn up dead, she'd go back to the base and hope Isaac wouldn't use his last moments strangling her.

Then a whistle pierced the air.

"Fuck."