#but i just really want to send someone cheesy songs

[stardust-on-crustedblood]

Can I be loved in a non-platonic way for a change?

[zeppelinlvr]

Kiss Your Eyes Again

Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you and Sam head home from the bar before dean, the two of you get ready for bed but you find yourself wishing you had gotten a room for just the two of you.

Notes: Like half of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it and I almost cried. Also, the fic literally has nothing to do with the song Anything by Adrianne Lenker I was just listening to the Songs album while writing this. I want to thank all of you for the continuous support, I appreciate it so much. Also feel free to send in requests because I'm running out of ideas 💔

Warnings: Cursing, this gets frisky but there's no actual smut, making out, fluff.

w.c 1.4k

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You placed two beers for Dean and Sam down and a seltzer for yourself, on the small table at the bar. Sam, Dean and you were in the middle of a case, Dean and Sam had done interviews with victims and visited the morgue while you looked at autopsy reports, symbols they had found, and the contents of the hex bags they had discovered. You knew the three of you were dealing with a powerful witch as the spells you found being used were from around the 15th century.

“This witch is hardcore, her end goal looks like she wants to be possessed by or summon a demon, we need to get to her before she can even attempt to do that” You told the two as you sat down.

“Why the hell would someone want to be possessed by a demon?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“No clue” you shrugged “Some witches have sex with demons too, they use it as a way to seal the pact they made with the demon”

Dean scrunched his face “I’m glad you're smart but you don't have to share everything you know”

Sam was watching you with interest in what you were saying “so we’re not just dealing with some everyday pagan?”

“Nope, this bitch is crazy” you told him with a giggle.

Sam gave you a soft smile, the two of you had been dating for a while but he always looked at you like it was the first time he’s seeing you, his eyes wide, taking in how beautiful you are.

The conversation carried on, the two boys sharing about the people they had met and how a few seemed off their rocker.

You finished your drink then said to the two “I’m tired, I’m gonna head back” You gave Sam a look, wanting him to join you, not only because you didn't want to walk in the dark but you missed the two of you being alone together and you were hoping to get some time with just him.

“I’ll go back with you, I’m tired too” Sam responded.

“Don't be gettin’ your freak on you two, I’m not gonna be out all night, I’ll have a couple more and head back” Dean told both of you, a smile on his face at your reaction of embarrassment.

“He’ll be done before you even finish your next drink” you joked, earning a laugh from Dean and Sam quick to defend himself with statements about how it wasn't true.

You and Sam headed out of the bar, the motel was only about a 5-minute walk away. You gave a dramatic shiver in hopes to get his jacket.

“Sammy, I’m so cold” you giggled and rubbed your arms dramatically

“You don't deserve my jacket after that comment” he replied, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders.

“We both know it isn't true and that's all that matters” you told him, putting your arms through the sleeves and cuddling into it, his smell engulfing you.

Sam laughed and brought his arm around your shoulder, his larger frame completely overshadowing you. You brought your arm around his waist and began to gently scratch his back. He placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not really tired, I just wanted some alone time with you” you admitted “I love Dean but I want to be alone with you sometimes”

“I know baby” he told you “how about we get ready for bed then we can cuddle and watch some desperate housewives”

You smiled at the mention of the cheesy show the two of you had gotten invested in, it started off as a background show that you’d turn on when you waited for the boys to come back to the motel, or when you and Sam were trying to fall asleep, but you quickly became invested and so did Sam.

“That sounds perfect” you told him

The two of you had returned to the motel, Sam unlocked the door and you made your way over to your duffle bag, changing into your pajamas, Sam did the same. You made your way to the bathroom Sam close behind, you brushed your teeth at the same time as him, unable to hold back your giggles at the toothpaste that dripped down his chin and how aggressively he brushed his teeth.

You washed your face and he watched you closely, eyeing the products you put on your face.

“Why do you have so many potions for your face?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Sam, its three things, and it's so my face doesn't break out and get greasy” You explained

He was nothing short of intrigued by your explanation “But why is your face wash called la roach pussy?” he asked, reading the bottle

“Its probably french or something” you shrugged “I don't know how to actually say the name”

When both of you were ready for bed, you turned on the current episode of desperate housewives that you were on.

You snuggled into Sam, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you leaned into his shoulder. Both of you attempting to cuddle while still being able to see the show.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of your head “I’m sorry we don't get a lot of alone time, I wish I could give you a white picket fence life, but I think we both know that's out of the question by now”

“Sammy don't apologize, and I’m okay with not having a Stepford Wives style of living” you paused “It’s more interesting to research monsters and see you come back sweaty and covered in dirt, its hot” you giggled and poked his chest, he shook his head in response, but a small laugh escaped.

“Sam, I really do love you and I wouldn't trade the life we have for anything, I like knowing we helped people at the end of the day” you added earnestly.

A smile played on his face as he brought you in for a kiss. It was slow and loving, he brought a hand to hold the back of your head, gently toying with your hair. You scratched and rubbed his shoulder, your other hand on his neck playing with the tufts of hair.

The kiss became heated when Sam picked you up and set you on his lap, doing it with such ease it felt as if you weighed nothing. He worked kisses along your collarbone, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sensation. He placed a few kisses on your shoulder before pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare chest, running his hands along your sides a few times, tracing your figure, before grabbing one of your breasts with his large hands, he began to gently toy with your nipple. Your incoherent encouragement and praises followed, you were unable to speak properly, it had been a while since you had been able to be so intimate with Sam.

“I know baby, it's okay” he said in response to your babbling.

You ground down onto his lap, earning a groan from him, you had your hand around the back of his neck tugging on his hair more desperately now, your other hand holding on to his large arm. You felt his growing erection against your core, your arousal pooling at the overwhelming sensations you were experiencing.

Sam brought his lips to yours again, his chest heaving as he harshly breathed while kissing you. His hand on the back of your head pushed you into him, holding you close. You continued to grind down onto his lap, Sam swallowing your soft moans and letting out groans and soft whines of pleasure.

As Sam was beginning to pull off your pants you heard a knock at the door. You sighed, not wanting this moment to be cut short. You threw your shirt on quickly and climbed out of Sam’s lap, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Are you two decent” Dean yelled through the door

Sam was uncomfortably shifting around, pulling the blanket over his lap.

“Yep, just watching tv” You yelled back

You heard the door unlock and Dean entered the room, laughing at Sam’s messy hair and your disheveled shirt, he chose to keep his comments to himself and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Sam pulled you into him, his chest flush against your back, he wrapped his arms around you, and you snuggled into him. You could tell he was still aroused, his erection poking you. You giggled at his issue, and he sighed but also laughed.

“We’ll get our own room next time” he told you and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

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[tokoyamisstuff]

Sweet Tooth

Homelander x GN! Reader

Summary: Homelander is a regular customer at your little coffeeshop, visiting anytime he craves something sweet - you, in particular. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cussing, HL is horny and also a douche Words: 1,575

"Seriously, Y/N? Who the fuck drinks a milkshake at 8am?"

Ah, there he is. You almost got worried because he ran late today.

"What are you, five? Grow the fuck up." That said, the gruff man in front of you pulled out a few loose dollar bills, cheekily slamming them on the counter. "One for me too, please."

You smirk, putting the cup down after slurping it in one go. Ouch, brainfreeze. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

That's what he likes most about you: Finally someone that can take a fucking joke. People he usually surrounds himself with are either afraid of him, or got a damn stick up their asses.

Communication wasn't really his forte without someone dictating the lines he'd have to say. But with you it came refreshingly easy, that back and forth was so enjoyable that he almost felt human.

"Coming right away" you chant, already busying yourself with the ingredients. "With how often you're ordering this drink, I should name it after you."

Homelander snorts at the well-deserved mockery, unable to keep his mouth shut since you look so adorable when irritated. "As you should, considering I basically fund this place."

"Hey!" you put a warning finger in the air, lighthearted voice earnest now. "I can tolerate a lot, but that's no joking matter."

Okay, the location you were able to afford was neither central nor in a remotely good part of the town. It was so small that there was only space for two tables, and the interior honestly decaying.

But at least it was honest work, and you did the best you could.

"With the new Starbucks across the street I'm basically bancrupt." Oh godfuckingdamnit, he fucked up. Homelander here to unwind, and certainly not to listen to you whining about your insignificant little life.

Maybe Vought should send you a check, though - losing this spot would be annoying.

Initially Homelander came to your café out of sheer coincidence, wanting to calm his nerves after his first encounter with Sister Sage. He took a longer stroll through some shady alleyways, hoping to run into some lowlife to rip apart...

...instead, he found you. A pathetic excuse of business and surely not even remotely close to achieving the American Dream, but whatever.

John had found himself entranced with the cheesy decoration, a desperate attempt to make a place like this feel cozy. He secretly admired people with the ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Well, the menu looked good enough that he decided to treat himself with something sweet as matter of exception - and now it had become part of his daily routine.

Things had just settled like this, with you offering him your sincere company while he'd cryptically vent about anything on his mind.

"Here: For my favourite customer!" you cheered proudly as you presented him the shake. "Made with extra love."

"Secret ingredient, huh? You're just nice to get an extra tip" he tries to hide the insecurity behind a sassy remark, but you instantly parry his claim. "What, why, because you're so generous? Nonsense. You're just lucky you're so cute."

It was no lie, really. John had a rough shell and wore his heart on his tongue, but you appreciated his honesty and the good conversations you shared.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but notice how you turn down the radio despite continuing to hum the song it was playing. He once told you about having misophonia, and how much he hates modern pop music. You actually listen to him, consider his feelings unlike the imbeciles he's used to.

"Woah, maybe tune it down with the sugar, darling" he thought aloud as you poured yourself a coffe. Damn, he needs to save himself after this one - but the only thing he comes up with sounded more like a backhanded compliment at max. "You're already sweet enough, don't ya think?"

"Charming as always, I see." Your face contorts into a mixture of confusion and amusement at his words, and feeling bold you turn around, giving a provocating slap to your own ass. "As long as the fat goes into the right places."

John bites his bottom lip at the sight of your tight leggings framing your curves too well. Yeah, that'd be a great place to dig his fingers into. Some cushion wouldn't bruise or make you whine if he'd become a little rougher. Shit, his pants feel awfully tight right now.

"You're staring." Seeing him being the flustered one for a change sure was a great feeling, considering that he was very aware of his own good looks. So you decide to get him off the high horse, playfully poking his soft belly. "Also, you're one to talk."

Homelander shifts on the barstool, closing his legs so you wouldn't notice his cock twitching in anticipation at the sudden proximity. God knows how often he had daydreamed about slamming you onto the next best surface and fucking you stupid.

"You really shouldn't be mean to someone that could spit in your drink." He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forwards until his unfairly handsome face was just inches from yours. "Joke's on you - I'd savour every last drop."

The audacity. You physically fight rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. "Sometimes I think you're the most obnoxious person in the world, John."

Liar, he thinks to himself.

Nothing is hidden from his abilities, neither your raised bloodpressure nor the scent of the wet spot forming between your legs. He prided himself on that fact. And yet you stand there all taken aback, trying to play coy. Cute.

Well, it wasn't as if you had no interest in him. He's been coming here for weeks and you're still working up the courage to at least give him your number - but he was so incredibly out of your fucking league that you never considered actually going through with it.

Homelander on the other hand decided he had let the opportunity slip for way too long already. Except for both of you the shop was empty as always, and even if it wasn't he wouldn't care. Hell, he'd already imagined what it would be like pounding you naked against the display window to show every passenger who you'd belong to from now on.

"John, I-"

"Shh" he hushed you, his silencing finger lingering on your lips. You pulled away, just to be caught by a firm hand on the back of your neck. "Tell me if I should stop - but we both know what you want me to do to you."

Oh, he's insufferable.

Honestly, you should just slap him and tell him to go fuck himself - but a primal need had already shut down the rational part of your brain. "Damnit John, will you kiss me now or do I need to fuck that shiteating grin out of your face?"

Shit, what's not to love about you?

"Hands up in the air you two shitheads, this is a robbery!"

Un-fucking-believable.

While you immediately went into panic mode, seeing a weapon up close for the first time in your whole life, John nonchalantly leaned against the counter, an aggravated groan escaping his throat. "Dude, worst fucking timing."

"John, don't provoke him-" He threw a hand up in the air, signalizing you to be quiet. "Stay behind and let me handle this, sweetheart."

You nod quietly, John shielding you with his body as you shakily paced behind the counter. A shot was fired and you shrieked at the sound, apparently the criminal wasn't exactly patient or he just didn't like your customer's tone.

"John! God John, are you alri-" Your words got caught in your throat as you saw the shell fall to the ground. Must be the adrenaline clouding your view, but there seemed to be not a scratch on his body. He winks cockily at you before turning around, using the lasers in his eyes to make a quick end to this before you'd involuntarily get caught into the crossfire.

"So, is the drink on the house or what?" The hero jokes unfazed after just having spread literal brain matter on your tiles.

You were still trembling when he squatted in front of your cowering self, reassuringly patting your back. This shit is like second nature to him, and sadly the little empathy he possessed had dulled over time. "I told you to stay down, silly."

As soon as you've calmed down to a certain extend, you pulled your savior's baseball cap from his head, revealing disheveled blonde hair.

"Are you the fucking Homelander?!"

"Can't deny that after what you've just witnessed" he answers truthfully, offering you a hand to get up. "Took you long enough to figure out, though."

Your strained pants turned into hysterical laughter, probably due to the shock. "I-I honestly have no words."

That means he wins today's banter, he jubilates internally. You could've been a little more thrilled about the reveal of his identity, though - but hey, you can show him your gratitude later on.

"Thank you, I guess." You finally release the breath you were holding, tension leaving your body as you collapsed into his arms. Police sirens could already be heard fast approaching. "I- could you please bring me home after the investigation is over?"

"Sure" he tries to hide his excitement, cradling your exhausted self against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll take you to go."

[cozy-writes-things]

I am absolutely fucking insane and want to see Edgar in pain

Like physically not emotionally or mentally

I’m weirg

I didn't want to be simply cruel to our lil guy in this so its very tame... it simply goes against my programming to be mean to my pookie bear lmao But I'm so thankful for the request!!

“I’m fine,” Edgar pressed, annoyance evident in his shaken voice, “seriously.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and groaning. “Edgar, seriously, you have so much dust buildup in those vents it could cause a fire.” You gestured toward his base component. “I just need to clean it with some compressed air. It’s literally not a big deal!”

He whined again.

“To you, it’s not! To me, it feels too… personal. I’m very sensitive, you know.”

Your shoulders dropped at his words. “Edgar, please? I just don’t want you to get hurt. Or set the apartment on fire. Or both!”

You deployed your best pleading tone for this, hoping, praying, that he’d let you inside to clean him. You just couldn’t bear to see him get so gunked up like this; it made you feel like a bad friend, in a way. He wasn’t able to clean himself, so naturally, that responsibility fell on you. Who would you be if you continued to let him deteriorate like this?

His screen went dim as he thought over your words. You always had a way of swaying him, he feared.

He knew you were right. He was just really, really nervous. An emotion still new to him, but all the more unwelcome. It ruminated inside of him, bubbling up and out of his fans. They struggled to rotate, and he could feel his internal temperature struggling to maintain itself.

“Fine,” he murmured, “but I want to stay on. I don’t need to be plugged in, just… I’m not powering off.”

A weight lifted from your chest as you let out a weary, bated breath. “Oh, thank goodness. I promise, I’ll be careful. I kind of have to. I don’t want to get shocked.”

He chuckled, voice deep and thick with nerves, yet it reverberated through your chest and down through your fingertips. Why were you so worked up about this? It just felt too intimate, for whatever reason. The way your fingers brushed lightly over his casing to move him, eliciting a small whimper of surprise barely whispering from his speakers, your screwdriver carefully unscrewing each little screw, the atmosphere growing thicker with every passing second. The air felt thick and hot. Edgar stayed silent, but you could nearly tangibly feel his fear pricking the air like electricity. It tingled against your fingertips as you carefully lifted his casing to reveal his insides.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You quite literally restored him; you’ve spent hours scrubbing the gunk off his motherboards. But that was before. Before you knew who he was and before you began to harbor very confusing feelings for the old computer. That was before you heard his playful voice praising the ground you walked on, complimenting you till you became a mess of nerves, making songs for you…

He did not seem to understand the meaning of casual.

You had mulled this concept over many nights; what he could possibly be feeling for you. Is this sentient machine flirting with you? Don’t be ridiculous. But who would ever write a love song dedicated to someone like that? Who would send constant sweet messages of praise and encouragement, or do domestic tasks like make coffee every morning, or microwave leftovers, or sit snugly in your arms, watching cheesy rom-coms? Is that platonic? Do you feel platonically for him? What are you feeling?

“Okay, I see where most of the dust is,” you, with great force, willed yourself back to reality to face the task at hand. “This is probably going to be really cold.”

You took your can of compressed air and angled it against the little dust bunny caked against his vents and pulled the trigger. A hard, icy stream of air shot out, fanning across his motherboards, ports, connectors, and quite literally everything else.

You couldn't help but wince at the harsh sound it made.

He hissed loudly, causing you to jolt and cease your icy barrage. If he were able to, he would have jumped out of his casing right then and there.

“Agh, stop! I- I can’t. I can’t do it, it’s cold- it-” he began panting, somehow, despite his lack of lungs, “it hurts. I don’t like it…!”

His whine tore at your heartstrings. You hated to be the cause of such discomfort. The dust bunny was nearly three-fourths gone now, and just one good-angled blast of air could probably clear it out. You swallowed your bubbling emotions and forced yourself to be firm yet gentle.

“C’mon Edgar, I know it hurts, but I’m almost done. Just one more time, and it’ll be over, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Your voice was thick and sweet like honey as you spoke to him. He cursed himself for feeling some kind of way at your voice. The icy trail the compressed air had left seemed to disappear as quickly as it came as he began to heat up at the sound of your words.

The way you were so gentle with him despite how utterly helpless he was…

Why did he like it so damn much? Why was he almost excited? Why did he feel like things between you were going to be awkward for the rest of the day?

“O-okay… I trust you, just- please? Be quick?”

You softly smiled at him, and damn it, this shouldn’t feel so intimate but it did. He felt guilty thinking these things while you were just trying to help, but could you blame him? Who in their right mind wouldn’t want someone like you doing something like this?

Damn.

He’s got it bad.

You pulled the trigger to the compressed air again and this time he bit back the yelp of pain. It hurt, but it also felt… good? He was confused. Was this relaxing or not? Did he like the feeling of being cared for in this way? No, it felt like shit. It was cold and harsh. But it was gentle and soft.

The stream of air suddenly became a bit too frigid for his tastes.

“Ah, stop, stop! It’s too cold, I- ugh, am I clean yet?”

You halted your blast of air, checking his screen for any signs of real damage, yet he seemed to be fine, just shaken.

You examined his vents one last time. “Yeah, I think you should be good for a while.”

He sighed dramatically. “Finally!”

You carefully assembled him back together again. He almost purred as you did so, his plastic warm to the touch. His fans whirred to life as you smiled at him. You could already hear how the airflow had improved.

“Ah, see, isn’t that better?”

His little green screen rolled its eyes. “Yeah, whatever. It feels great. Now watch movies with me! You owe me.”

His voice boomed with energy. You supposed it worked better than he expected it to. He already seems much more chipper and energetic. Are you going to regret this later? Probably. But his constant pestering for your attention endeared you.

You laughed and petted his casing as his little digital face leaned into your touch. “Alright, you’re right… What do you want to watch?”

His face turned mischievous, and sometimes when he looked at you like that, you swore you could see little horns sprout atop his head.

“Something dirty!”

“Absolutely not.”

[chiffaust]

𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗕𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 ! — Tsukinaga Leo x reader

xxx. PLAYLIST . I wanna be your boyfriend by Hot Freaks.

— he loves you, yet he is never able to voice out what he felt towards you... But all he needs is a little push from a friend whether it was intentional or not.

xx. c : use of gender neutral terms, gender is not mentioned/specified for reader. insane levels of yearning from leo tsukinaga and some level of doubts and insecurity with him. wrote at like 10 pm on a weekday so this might be shitty, not proofread — might be ooc !

note . this is completely different from the beta... but i think i like this version better. i wrote leo as 'cool' instead of his usual 'cuteness' in mind. he's still just as pathetic though :3 maybe pathetically cool

It's a mystery how his mind works, and much less was it a miracle for him to realize everything. From the start, his feelings weren't always as platonic as he'd thought towards you. The realization alone sends him into a frenzy of denial and childishly denying his ever-growing crush on you yet always throwing a childish tantrum and sulking around his friends whenever he sees someone getting a bit too cozy with you to his liking.

Nonetheless, Leo realizes — he can't just sulk behind a corner without doing anything while hoping you'll look at him the same way as he does if he doesn't do something about it. Oh, but was it hard to even look at you in the eyes; the thought alone sends his heart into frantically thumping against his chest; his face become hotter and redder while stutter he did pathetically over his words and waste his chances... It's really no good! He wants to seem cool in front of you, but he just can never muster up the courage at all, it's annoying!

His friends were to help and give him advices when it comes to love, but none of it were exactly trying to help him. “ Be cool ” — Leo simply could not. “ Try to strike up a conversation about something you two have a common interest with! ” — if that happens, he's afraid he'll go on rambling until he talks your ears off and you'll find him annoying because of it! “ Buy them whatever they want as a gift ” — now, he isn't exactly sure if he has the type of money to do that... “ Trick them into signing a marriage contract and cling onto them forever ” — that'll just drive you away!! Leo's even more concern now, and his friends' advice weren't making him any less confident in talking to you!

To you, Leo was just a friend you occasionally see and to him, you were his whole world — one he would be more than willing to serve his heart on a silver platter to as he yearns from the side. Truly were you his love — his muse; his everything and unbeknownst to you, he had written a song or two unpublished to the public with the thought of you in mind. He grows frustrated amidst his embarrassment much to his dislike of acknowledging it.

... The sweet melody and cheesy lyrics of “ love ” — he feels like a fool! Occasionally he would lose his cool and throw the stacks of paper everywhere across and in deafening silence, he dealt with his own thoughts; how embarrassing. He's seriously doing everything but telling you how he feels.

Even as the corner of his phone lights up the dimly lit room, on the screen shows across the room with your contact number messaging him. He suppose even if he could never confess his love for you romantically, you like him just the same “ platonically? ”

He would be fine (in his words, but he is ABSOLUTELY NOT) with only liking you from afar... That is if you aren't also dating anyone else — he would go insane if you're suddenly dating someone else, and that's the conclusion his mind thought of when suddenly you had gotten so close to that Izumi Sena.

Never once had Izumi ever showed romantic interest towards you; in five people (Knights)— he obviously loves and yearned for you the most and the longest. It wasn't like they weren't aware of it. They knew you were completely off limits ever since the first time he confessed to wanting to do the cheesiest things with you to them they got sick and tired of it.

And yet, his mind he thought you like him romantically — and so did Izumi. You two were laughing at each other's joke and you were beautiful like that; bright eyes and smiling... A sudden feeling of dreadful doubt dropped down his stomach and just as suddenly he felt so sick even if it was just his insecurities.

He thought so too; maybe he's overreacting. Maybe there's nothing going on in between you two, he's sure of it! That's what he tells himself, but slowly this banter went on for days and slowly turned into weeks of utter torture for him. He saw you exchanging contacts, plan on hanging out together — and he felt jealous.

He never liked this feeling of jealousy — especially towards a dear friend like him, but with confusing emotions mixed together came unassumed anger of jealousy. His patience doesn't last long until he gets sick and tired of it and came in between you two with a glare that might've sent chills down Sena's back a bit.

Leo took your hand and ran away with you from him; dragging you far away to somewhere outside the building until his leg gives out — alas, there was only you two all alone on the park as the sun slowly sets into dusk. There was nothing going in the way between you two now.

"I'm sorry for dragging you away like that all of the sudden." He muttered, unable to look at you not for the reason may he make a fool of himself if he stares too long; but instead out of guilt overwhelming his heart.

"... But, I really can't stand it anymore, you know? I see you laughing and being happy with Sena... I want to do that with you. I want to laugh along with you and be happy just as you were with him, so I got jealous...

... This might be selfish, but I really really liked you from the start! I know compared to Sena, I'm childish and all I'm good at is writing music — he's better fit as a "boyfriend" compared to I do, but I really... Like you, [Name]! And I really wanna be your boyfriend!" All these times, the words, the doubts — he was suddenly spilling them out loud to you and he was just as surprised as you. For the first time in a while, his heart feels light from burden despite the nervousness he felt, thus he continued to spoke;

"I might not be as good as Sena — or a pretty model, but I could treat you as half as decently — if not better than he ever could! I'll even compliment you frequently if that's what you want — no, I'll compliment you a lot! " Leo's eyes lit up with sincerity and for the first time, there was confidence and a look of seriousness in his eyes as he looked into yours while gently clasping your hands in his, but he feared he was being a bit overbearing and pushy and his confidence slowly fizzled away.

"Please... Think about it, alright? Because I really like you; I truly do." His tone were calmer, but there's also a melancholic hymn to his voice despite how he tries to force out a smile to you.

He's always the happy go-lucky guy — eccentric in ways, but he always had the purest intentions in his heart. It would be kind of embarrassing if he breaks down in front of you all of the sudden.

He can't stay any longer; if he stays, he's afraid he wouldn't be able to control his emotions any longer. Slowly, he lets go of your hand and exchanged one final glance before trying to walk away — but just as that, you held onto his wrist and pulled him back which surprised him.

"Leo, don't be like that... You didn't even give me the chance to reply." You muttered, your gaze softens looking at him and he simply couldn't look away... You're just so beautiful to him.

"I like you just the same. I'm sorry for making you feel bad all these times — I... Didn't realize."

Your look of sadness sends him into frenzy, he stutters from nervousness because of you.

"H-huh...? Why're you apologizing? It should be me who's apologizing — plus, it's my fault for keeping my emotions hidden all these time from you! You didn't knew at all!"

"... You know, Leo; I had a hunch you liked me... And it wasn't like you were being discrete about it anyway."

"Ah..." Leo stays still, completely surprised. Well, it is true he couldn't keep his emotions from spilling out sometimes, but he was so sure he was being discrete about his feelings for you. He wasn't sure how to react; was he supposed to be embarrassed? Sad? Angry? Even amidst his confusion, he finds amusement in his own embarrassment. He laughs aloud, and it was like he didn't had the saddest look of melancholy in his eyes just a moment ago.

With a big grin on his face, he soon falls onto you with all of his weight and hugged you tightly. The mature and cool Tsukinaga Leo is in touch with his emotions was no longer there; he was now the childish and impatient Leo you knew from the start — and yet, that never changed a thing of how you felt towards him.

"Leo...!" You groan out, stumbling back slightly at the sudden force of his weight against you. He was using his every weight on his body towards you.

"Aha, I just can't help it — I'm so happy, [Name]! I'm really so happy!" He giggles, but his fit of energy quickly dissipates as he gently leans in closer to you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist so you wouldn't escape his hug while his other hand gently intertwine with yours.

"... Let's be together forever, [Name]."

[lovelikealcoholic]

Do you think you could do sibling alien stage head cannons?? Like if the alien stage characters had little siblings, how would they act towards them?

i love all the ideas im getting I hope I don't let you guys down, I'm so hungry for Alien Stage content....

ALIEN STAGE CHAR WITH A LITTLE KID SIBLING

im imagining this as you being a child but if you want like a little sibling in the same age range uh I can do that if u ask....

IVAN

I feel like he'd cherish his sibling a lot, especially a younger one.  

He loves caressing your head, playing with your hair, 100% 

Or hold your hand and rub circles on the back of it while looking at you with a smile. 

He is always by their side, no matter what. If you're crying, he's there. If he chooses to run away, he takes you with him.  

The way he comforts you is by pressing your head against his chest and running his fingers through your hair before placing a small kiss on it, whispering quietly to help you release all negative emotion. 

He's a bit of a hypocrite when telling you what to do. He wants to send you on the right path in life because you deserve the best in the world, so of course, he's always giving you advice, caressing your head, and telling you via story books. 

He still manages to rub off on you, if you’re a ray of sunshine you have a serious look on your face and people get scared off and you don't mind much as long as you have your brother. 

You’re unafraid of the big dog like aliens who bare their teeth at people. You brainlessly put your head in its mouth or put your forehead to its nose and close your eyes, feeling a connection to it. 

Every time he finishes a song you run up to him which makes him smile, remembering partly who he is doing this for.  

If he ever had a friend to talk to, he’d always mention you, i mean, you’re all he has. 

And in return he would tell you about the people he knew, when you asked about Till he would tell you, but his head would be in the clouds. 

HYUNA

She doesn't lie to their sibling at all. You will know the situation, and she won't hide anything from you.

You need something? She always has your back. You're spoiled rotten.

She raised you to be tough and headstrong so that you could live your best life when you grow older.

She gets so excited every time she notices you growing older that she shakes or hugs you while jumping and showing you off to everyone. only to her close friends because shes a bit secretive about you.

gets really mad when someone she doesnt like mentions you

Loves to kiss your cheek, mwah mwah mwah! Before biting it playfully.

She wants you to know that you own yourself and don't have to please anyone to be happy! If you do something, it's because you want it!

When she notices that she's rubbing off on you, she squeals and tells her buddies, telling them she's so proud before rubbing your head to mess up your hair because you can't be cooler than her.

She'll hug you whenever you feel down and tell you it's all going to be alright, that no matter what, she was always there, and she'd kick anyone's ass for ya.

she's not a fan of getting all cheesy, so she'll squish your cheeks and tell you to raise your head high.

LUKA

He wants you to be independent so he does the worst thing he could possibly do. ignore you.

He thinks it will make you strong, so you'll be capable of handling things if he ever disappears, but it just makes you wish he'll acknowledge you.

You get everything that you want except your brother's attention.

So you do everything to try to impress him, even starting to practice singing and accomplishing every task given to you.

And when you're standing next to your brother in front of your owner, when the alien leaves, he just rubs your head and walks away with a small smile.

When he notices he's rubbing off on you he either frowns because who do you think you are? or he smirks and doesn't say anything.

He never talks with you, only really short talk

Whenever you show that you feel down, tears in your eyes as you call for your brother, he gets a bit angry. You shouldn't be showing that; you won't survive in this world if you do.

He'll probbaly slap you........

He's not good at caring for you; he doesn't know how much it would affect you.

MIZI

She'll do anything for you. She wants you to smile always.

Everything she does is for you. She always thinks about you every second, wondering when she'll get to see you.

She buys you many gifts, so don't ask her how she got them; she has her ways.

She sings you to sleep, picks flowers for you, and hugs you daily.

If anyone knew her, they know you're her number one priority.

If you ever feel down, she will sing you your favorite song and gently rock you to sleep, trying not to cry, too, because she's supposed to look strong for her sibling.

When you show similar behavior to her, she smiles and gets so happy she'll tell the whole world, similar to hyuna but she brags to everyone.

TILL

um.

He tries, he really does but he's a bad influence and tries to distance himself from you so you'll be safe.

another part of him is too love sick to have anyother resoponsability

But you dont know that nd so you stick to him as much as you can, showing off anything you made or just anything you learned to impress him.

all he does is nod not even looking your way before saying "yeah great job."

He yells at you only to protect you. he wants you to not be seen with him so you don't SEE how much trouble he is, how horrible he is.

he loves you, but hes let you go for the best........

sorry if Luka and Till's werent good, if u wan ill remke.... any ideas are welcomed , maybe part 2s

its 2 am........ ill catch up with the other requests soon/..

[sohnric]

bad idea, right? – k. sunwoo

pairing: soundcloud rapper! sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: exes to lovers, angst, suggestive. i know this is toxic as fuck dont @ me sometimes i like to write shit like this because it's realistic...

word count: 4k

warnings: a whole lot of arguing, swearing, both of them being toxic and childish, a heated makeout session, overall just..messy. so messy.

a/n: similivinlife u inspired this. not my proudest moment but oh well 😵 the original of this draft was for the fic dancing in my backseat on @rrxnjun that i didnt end up using and revamped for this, so if u see any similarities it is because both fics are mine :P and once again, as always, thank u @csenke my sweetest beloved for beta reading 🤍

“I don’t think you can imagine the things I have to deal with about that track, like, I was literally in the town yesterday and around six people stopped me and wanted the backstory and I don’t know what, and it’s really, really annoying–”

Your voice cuts off, being replaced by a beat that makes acid taste on your tongue and hair stand up all alert, like a feral cat’s would when you try to get close to it, making you immediately turn off the song, letting a scream out into your pillow. There’s a storm of emotions inside of you as you take the phone you’ve been listening to the new song on back into your hand and pull up his number– because you blocked him everywhere else in hopes of never seeing his face again– and shoot him an angry text about the matter.

you [7:21pm]: are you kidding me???

you [7:21pm]: you are really so damn egoistical for doing this 

you [7:21pm]: really don’t think about anyone else except yourself huh

you [7:21pm]: ignore my messages again like the last time and i swear to god i’ll send someone to beat your ass

Fingers quicker than your own thoughts, you hammer down the messages on the keyboard, laced with the fury that’s been shaking with you ever since you learned that he released a new track that included yet another one of your voice messages you sent to him. It was excruciating to listen to, to say the least– your dignity stripped away slowly, piece by piece with the unsettling realization that your personal matters are now out there in the open, for everyone to see and judge, for the whole world to pick apart and analyze. Which is kind of funny, considering the nature of your breakup– you’re not so sure his fans would like what they would find out about him, had they dug deep enough.

Not saying that you are innocent in this matter, of course– you just don’t think it’s really fair to not have the platform to tell your side of the story.

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: feisty one aren’t ya

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: what’s this about

Clenching your jaw as you stare at the messages popping up on your screen only a few minutes after yours get delivered– which is unusual for him, to say the least– you work your way through another angry reply.

you [7:25pm]: your song???

don’t pick up [7:25pm]: did you like it? ;)

A dry chuckle escapes your throat at the last message. Of course you didn’t like it. You weren’t really a fan of the invasion of your privacy. You didn’t like the fact that he once again used your voice without permission, letting the whole world listen to your angry words that were addressed to him and only him. What was there for you to like about the song? His cheesy lyrics? The way he acted like he was way above you, belittling you with the power he had over you with all those voice messages? 

you [7:26pm]: yes i loved the invasion of my privacy a lot, thank you sunwoo

you [7:26pm]: isnt this illegal? ill look into it

don’t pick up [7:27pm]: now you’re being ridiculous.. its just a song y/n :) 

Was he being serious? Just a song? What about the prying eyes staring at you whenever you walk through the campus? What about the whispering behind your back whenever you sit in the school cafeteria? The pointed fingers whenever someone recognises that it’s you– the one that dated the good-for-nothing Soundcloud rapper and then broke his poor little heart. Was it ever really just a song?

you [7:28pm]: you cant be fr rn..

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: ah…let’s just talk abt it then

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: i’ll pick u up at 8? 

Staring at the messages on the screen, you let out another dry chuckle. The skin of your fingertips tingles when you swipe across the surface of your phone, opening the messaging app once again and tapping on the little bubble on the bottom, making the keyboard appear. The gears in your brain turn in swift motion as you try to sound nonchalant in your response, typing and deleting the message again, never getting the tone quite right. 

Responding to your ex boyfriend’s jabs and teasing in person seems to be easier for you, contrary to popular demand– you don’t have much time to think of your answer before the time frame between your arguments would turn too awkward with the silence, so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. It comes naturally to you, though, and while you don’t particularly enjoy the fury and adrenaline that his smug smirks and jarring words make you feel, the tension his sudden messages built up only makes you more hesitant. 

You haven’t met up with Kim Sunwoo since the day you ended things, and you know damn well there’s a good reason for it.

Seeing him around campus or at parties of your mutual friends is a whole other thing than being with him in a closed space, all alone. It’s been a month since you ended things and while you are fairly certain that Sunwoo is a major jerk that is out to ruin your life, you can’t really tell if you’re actually over the major jerk that is out to ruin your life.

Seemingly letting Sunwoo know that you have the chat open, letting him watch your chat bubble pathetically appear and disappear in consistent time intervals, another quick message is shot your way, making your heart drum against your rib cage in even swifter motions. Running your hand through your hair, you sigh and drop the phone into your lap, helpless.

don’t pick up [7:40pm]: i’ll take it as yes

Sighing to yourself, you stand up from your bed and put on some presentable clothes. You don’t want to give Sunwoo any ideas, and that’s why you only change into clean sweatpants and a tank top, not putting much effort into your appearance at all. You need to send him the signal of being nonchalant– although your stance on the way he uses you in his songs is full of anger and resentment, you don’t want it to seem like you care much about the man himself at all.

Dragging yourself out of your room and putting on your shoes, you bump into your roommate Aeri passing you by with a mug of tea, her hair in a towel as she just came out of the shower. “You’re going somewhere?” 

“Going out,” you grunt.

“Oh?” she hums, leaning into the doorframe, “with who?”

The question catches you off guard. Turning around on your heel, you flash her an innocent smile, brain thinking of every possible solution you could use to not tell her that you’re going out with the exact person you’ve spent the last few weeks grunting over in dismay. “No one important,” you start, when her face morphs into a distressed frown.

“Is it Sunwoo?”

“Look, I-”

“It is fucking Sunwoo! I heard you scream into your pillow just now, I should’ve known it was that prick again,” she grunts, her guess confirmed by the very obvious discomfort on your face, suddenly in a hurry when you try to get out of the house in one swift motion and save yourself from the cross-examining conversation that’s surely about to happen judging by the look in Aeri’s face.

“I gotta go-”

“What about all your ‘I don’t ever wanna see him again’ talk?” she sighs, clearly disappointed with your life choices. 

“Look, it’s about the songs he’s been putting out. He’s being an ass about replying back to my messages and god knows I’m not calling him, or else he’d record it and put it in another song like the freak he is,” you squint your eyes at her, making sure your intentions are clear to your worried roommate. 

“Oh, right, because he’s going out with you just to talk,” she mutters, “when all you two have done since you broke up is argue. Mhm, seems about correct,” Aeri adds, making the situation even worse than it already was, because she’s right, after all– when have the two of you held a normal conversation in the past few weeks? Seeing him tonight might just be the worst idea of your life– right after deciding to date him, of course– and you’re completely aware of the fact.

Opening your mouth to answer with a jarring comment meant to put your roommate back in her place, the words are taken off your tongue when you hear the ring of your phone, the notification on your screen flashing with his messages.

don’t pick up [8:04pm]: youre 5 mins late

don’t pick up [8:05pm]: come out

“Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble as you take your bag off the hanger, Aeri’s disapproving eyes following you as you head towards the door. 

“Right. Have fun,” she ironically sings, knowing very well what Kim Sunwoo’s intentions are for the night. Still, you fakely gag to her comment before you’re out the door and walking down the entryway.

As your figure walks out of the apartment complex, you almost don’t notice the man. You were expecting him to be waiting just behind the door, resting against the wall as he usually did back when you two were dating. The sight that meets your eye shocks you a little when you find him leaning against a 2007 Audi A4, the silver exterior of the car contrasting with the darkness of his clothes, hands folded on his chest as he watches you with an overly-confident smirk. 

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you finally cut through the distance. 

“Didn’t know you were so eager to see me,” you bite back, eyes scanning the vehicle. “Did you finally get a car with that new profession of yours? Or is that another one of your friend’s again?” you point towards the car, making the boy chuckle.

“Mine,” he says, “my ‘good-for-nothing career’ is taking off, as you may have noticed,” he hums, referencing all the arguments you two used to have about his dreams and ambitions, making you wince a little at the comment. You never believed in him ever making it big– you just didn’t think his dreams were ever really realistic– but judging by the way it’s been going for him, you must admit you may have been wrong with your snarky arguments before.

“Well, it’s not much, then,” you mutter instead, pretending to judge the state of his old, used-looking car.

“Gets the job done,” he shrugs as he peels himself off the door, opening the passenger side and sparing you a short glance. “Hop in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t wait for you to sit down so he can close the door after you– instead, he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, getting in himself– much to the gentleman he’s always been. Making sure you slam the door shut with as much force as you can, just to anger the man and his new toy, you fasten your seatbelt and watch as Sunwoo winces, but doesn’t mention it when he turns the engine on with a turn of the key and drives off the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, watching as the male snickers to himself. The calmness of his composure makes you oh so annoyed, making you despise every second spent together with him in the small space breathing in his cologne and listening to the songs playing through the speakers, reminding you of the playlist he’d always put on when he was given the privilege of the aux cord.

“What? Are you scared I’m gonna kill you?” Sunwoo jokes.

“Seeming that you’re batshit crazy, one can’t know what to expect from you nowadays,” you grunt, making him cheese with amusement.

“I thought I was just ‘a loser Soundcloud rapper that can’t do anything in life’,” he repeats to you a sentence you uttered out upon your breakup, the emotions getting the worst out of you after the way he’s been treating you. “Would a loser like me kill you? I don’t think so.”

“Very funny, Sunwoo,” you ironically bite back, rolling your eyes at his composure. The fact that he seemingly has the upper hand on you in the conversation makes you falter a little bit. “I just wanted to talk about the songs you’ve been putting out.”

“You wanted to tell me how much you like them? Thank you, I’m flattered–”

“No, you idiot. I wanted to talk to you about how uncomfortable they’re making me feel!” you yell out, making the male wince. 

There’s a momentarily silence in the car as the male drives, the streetlamps disappearing out of sight as he drives away from the city, into more sparse areas. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks up now, the lack of teasing in his tone making shivers run down your spine. “I don’t think it’s that serious, really.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “Because I don’t find it fun when people stop me on the street and ask all about our relationship, Sunwoo. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but you never asked for my permission when you used those.”

The sound of your own voice resonates through your brain, the first voice message he ever used in one of his songs (the one that made him finally more popular, funnily enough) making you sigh out in the darkness of the car. ‘Just.. I dunno, I said sorry, I apologized, I don’t know what more you want me to do.. like, what’s going on? Literally nothing, so like.. can’t we just… move on from this and… fucking let it go?’

“One would think you’d stop sending me these after the first one,” Sunwoo utters out, voice low and almost a little amused, which makes you tip over the edge.

“And I would think you wouldn’t use audio of me being vulnerable with you in a fucking song that everyone would hear, Sunwoo!” 

“Oh, did you mean that part where you called me a hypocrite for hanging out with my friends from high school without telling you? Or the part where you cursed me out after you broke up with me because I dared to text you again–”

“I was trying to pierce things back together!” you yell, making the male quiet down, resulting in taking a right turn towards a dead-end, the road approaching a forest. Not a single soul is to be found around here except the two of you, and when he turns the engine off, but stays staring ahead of him towards the trees, you continue with everything you’ve been holding inside of you– instead this time, your voice is more quiet, not having to scream over the sounds of the car anymore.

“I was apologizing. I was trying to make us work, Sunwoo. And just because you didn’t see it or didn’t have it in you to pay attention to me that night, it doesn’t give you the right to exploit me for your gain and make a fool out of me in front of everyone,” you say, watching as the male chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You are the one that broke up with me,” he says into the silence, “not the other way around.” 

A moment of silence hangs over you two like a heavy jacket. You were well aware of the fact– you broke up with Sunwoo after the night he went out with all of his female friends from high school, not telling you a thing about it before you found out through an Instagram story of one of them. You knew he was being petty, you knew he was doing it just to get back at you– because you never passed out on a chance to make him feel jealous, getting back at him for all the controlling comments he would make whenever you went out to clubs with your girlfriends– but it still drove you up against the wall and made you break.

Maybe you and Sunwoo weren’t made for each other. There’s no denying that you loved each other– you just didn’t really know how to handle your relationship. You never really learned how to handle problems. How to resolve issues. Both of you were too immature for the other, and it would never work– you only came to this conclusion after many tear-filled evenings, but coming to peace with it is still yet to come.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

The male scoffs, turning his head towards you, meeting your eye. “Did you even listen to the songs?” 

“Of course I did, how else would I know–”

“Then you must have noticed that I’m not making fun of you, or putting you on blast, or belittling you, or whatever you and your friends have said about me for the past month,” he counts on his fingers as he recites the words with an annoyed tone, big eyes bearing into yours. 

“You exposed me being vulnerable.”

“I’m vulnerable in these too!” he urges out, eyebrows furrowing at you in exasperation.

“That’s your fucking choice! Don’t drag me into it!”

While you must admit that none of the lyrics Sunwoo’s ever written about you were lies, or making fun of you or throwing harsh words in your direction, you still feel as if a chunk of you has been thrown out in the open, for anyone to pick apart and poke around. You always told Sunwoo you liked his way with words, and there is no denying that his lyrics, although they were painfully honest, were quite beautiful. If you weren’t the one the songs were about, maybe you’d even like them. Maybe you could give them a listen without feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Maybe you could add them to your playlist without feeling ashamed that you’re still thinking about the male, picking apart your relationship like every outsider has been doing since the songs went viral, but instead, finding places where you could’ve done things differently and kept him by your side.

It was hard to listen to his words and see the reflections of your past flashing in front of your eyes like a movie. While you admit that he did the timeline of your relationship justice, you do despise the fact that his words are getting to you so much. 

You don’t like hearing about the things you’ve done wrong. You don’t like listening to him apologize– although he would never do so directly. You don’t like to hear him say that he misses you, because it makes it hard for you to keep your fair distance from him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you drive me home, Sunwoo? We’re clearly not on the same page about this,” you say, averting your gaze from him towards the window.

“No.”

“Sunwoo, can you please drive me–”

“Not until we talk about this, no,” he says firmly, watching you foam over with fury.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Us!”

“There’s no us anymore, Sunwoo! And I think it’s the time you come to terms with that and stop abusing our failed relationship for your stupid songs,” you bark, throwing daggers into his skull with your fierce eyes.

“So you get to go and post angry tweets and badmouth me in front of your friends, but when I cope in a perfectly respectful manner, it’s wrong?” he argues, scoffing and shaking his head at you.

“God, you’re unbelievable. You’re comparing two vastly different things–”

“Do you not like the songs because you feel exposed, or do you not like them because I’m saying exactly what you don’t want to hear?” he asks, eyes bearing into yours with such heaviness you feel like you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Like what? That you think I regret breaking up with you?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why else would you pick a fight with me every time I call? Why pick it up at all?”

“Why do you call, then?” you challenge him, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The male leans closer to you, sparks dancing in his eyes when his voice resonates through the car like a low thunder, making the tips of your fingertips buzz and your heart beat faster.

“You know exactly why I call.”

“To make me angry and get me to scream at you?”

“If that means I get to talk to you,” he shrugs, a subtle grin overtaking his features, a churn of your stomach warning you of the dangerous area you just entered.

Eyes never breaking contact with his, relishing in the way his hungry gaze picks you apart, you attempt to conceal your true feelings with an annoyed comment. “This isn’t going anywhere,” you muse, “god, I never wanna see your face again.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, teasing you. “That’s what you said last time,” he says, “so what are you doing in my car then, babydoll?”

The pet name makes your stomach drop, the lightness in your head coming back to you as you furrow your brows at the male, trying hard to come up with a smart remark. Your brain turns into liquid and there’s buzzing in your ears as you try to focus on staying calm and true to your best judgment, but the moment Sunwoo’s head leans even closer to your face, his words render you both speechless and thoughtless as he mutters a sentence that’s barely louder than a whisper, yet powerful enough to pull you in.

“Stop fighting me for once, will you?”

Your lips are pushed against his with force, the kiss mirroring the essence of being starved of each other for the past month. His plush lips move against yours with the skill that only a man you’ve spent tens and hundreds of nights kissing would acquire, his hand placed on your jaw to steady you, adjusting the pace of his kisses just the way you always liked it. 

A force that’s greater than yourself brings you out of your seat and into the driver’s lap, giving the male better access to your throat as you settle comfortably under your newly acquired human chair. His strong thighs flex under you when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him back up to connect your lips together before he breathlessly pulls away, gazing at you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why did we even break up again?” he jokes.

You reply to him with the same lightness of your tone, shrugging. “Because you were a jealous, possessive prick and I had a short temper that always egged you on?” you say, watching as the male pretends to ponder on the information, humming to himself.

“I think I can put that past me.”

“Can you?” you joke, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, a sly smirk playing with your lips as you lean over him and press a firm, yet short peck to his swollen lips. “Or will you make another mediocre song about it?”

“Don’t call them mediocre,” he squints at you, eyes tracing your face when your hands slip further down his face to cradle his jaw, thumbs padding his lips.

“I easily outdid you on your own song, Kim Sunwoo.”

“That’s why I add you in, actually.”

“Really?” you snicker, tone full of fake disbelief. His hands hold your sides when you lean over the man and latch yourself to his neck, dragging out kisses up and down his warm skin. “Will you make a song for each of our arguments, then?” 

Teeth scraping the skin of his throat, you find the male humming under you in pleasure and satisfaction. He has you right where he wanted you– and although this is not how you imagined the night to go, you don’t find yourself disappointed with the turn of events. The previous annoyance is still there, but now is shielded by the need in you, the longing for him you can’t really battle whenever he is around.

Settling deeper against his body, you feel the male slip one hand into your hair, tugging at the roots of your hair gently to bring your face back to his, averting your attention away from the love bites you’ve been placing on his skin. 

“Unless you give me another topic to write about,” he suggests, his hungry lips swallowing your reply. 

You and Sunwoo were never really good for each other. Too messy, too turbulent, but too consumed with the other to ever truly let go. Seeing him tonight surely wasn’t the best of your ideas– but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t silently hope the evening would turn out this way.

You and Sunwoo were never the ones to make good decisions when it came to the other one anyway. What’s one another badly calculated step in your relationship gonna do?

[yutarot]

DEAL OR NO DEAL [mark lee smau]

BONUS WRITTEN CHAPTER: THROUGH THE YEARS.

wc: 1.3k

— 5 months after the deal.

you loved life. the people you had in it, the endless memories you’d been making with the band. the time you had been spending with mark, it was endless.

or so you thought.

it hadn’t dawned on you the entire year that soon you would have to say goodbye, to college, to the band, to your friends…

and to him.

it hadn’t dawned on you until that day. your graduation.

you wore your robes and your hat with a sense of fear that you’d never feel such belonging in a place ever again. and it haunted you undoubtedly as you made your way across the stage, shaking hands with multiple people and holding back tears.

it was bittersweet, yet you felt you had more to learn, more to experience, more to see.

you have been successful as to not cry the entire day, but as you reached the end of the stage and stood shoulder to shoulder with your boyfriend, you let yourself go.

his proud smile faded.

“yn..?” he said softly, as if your name was something that shouldn’t be spoken, forbidden, just for him. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him and when his eyes connected to yours, he understood, he understood it all.

“you don’t want to leave.” he stated.

but you shook your head.

something about this moment made you realise why you were really crying.

“no,” you said, confusion etched into his brows, “i don’t want to leave you.”

he smiled, and it’s comfort, it’s everything you’d ever expect from him and he whispered his next words to you as if they would only ever be meant to you, for you.

“i’ll keep my side of the deal. no matter what.”

and that’s all you’d ever need.

— 1 year and 5 months after the deal.

you were so unbelievably proud the day that mark received his basketball contract. although you and mark had lost contact with donghyuck as he’d moved to another college before you could graduate, you immediately let the rest of the group know about marks success, sending message after message in the group chat. nothing had made you happier than seeing the smile on his face when he came back home to your shared apartment that night, tears of joy running down his face as he came to hug you.

“i can’t believe it!” he had said. had kept you awake that entire night, rambling about his basketball career, all the people he was going to meet and all the games his going to play. he was happy, and so were you.

but you couldn’t help but feel sorry for yourself; watching your bestest friend and boyfriend do so well for himself, you felt as if you were letting him down.

not only had you given up with your music career, but that meant you had broken your side of the promise.

and although mark still loved you anyways, it wasn’t enough for you.

so that night, as soon as mark had rambled his way to sleep, you put up a social media post.

‘looking for members for a band. no past experience needed.’

nothing could have prepared you for what came. not in the slightest, as you received three dms.

three very familiar dms.

— 5 years after the deal.

marks career was growing fast to say the least, signed to one of the biggest basketball teams in the nation, you had supported him, indefinitely, along the way.

just as much as he supported you.

so as you sat, cheesy smile on your face as you watched your best friend natty walk down the aisle, nothing could have hindered your happiness. it was perfect, every last moment, as chenle took her hand, forever.

as the ceremony ended to make way for a night of partying, you and mark chatting away to chenle and natty about their new married life, you noticed a certain someone try to grab your attention.

“one song.” he mouthed from a distance, “please.”

it was mingi.

if you were honest, when you received that dm from him 4 years ago asking to join the band with you, you were skeptical. but reuniting with the other members, you felt at home. it was where you were meant to be.

besides, mingi had spent the past 4 years trying his best to slowly build up your friendship, with the help of mark who was, suprisingly, happy to see the original band back together. it was nothing like before, which only meant you were happy to let him back into your life as a band member.

it felt right.

and so here you were, hands tracing the drum sticks sat lazily on top of the the drum set, jeno, yunho and mingi with smiles plastered on their faces.

it had been 5 years, and still, here you were, the same, old group from college, performing together.

mark grinned up from the dance floor, and though you wished he was on stage with you, you knew that he never truly cared for guitar and the band.

for all he ever wanted was for you to be able to play.

and after all these years, as you drum the rhythm to one of your old songs, mark has got everything he’s ever wanted.

— 11 years after the deal.

it had been a while since ncity records had decided to sign you, it had been a while since you had released your first album, it had been a while, since you and mark had decided to take your relationship that one step further. and nothing compared to that night.

the night that mark proposed.

it was windy, yes, but the stars that shone above you illuminated the skyline in a way you had never seen before. there was something about that night that was different from the rest. so as mark got down on one knee, diamond ring in one hand and your trembling palm in the other, you felt nothing but the comfort of saying yes.

you had cried and cried and cried, mark holding onto you, laughing and crying with you.

who knew that the stupid bet you had made with eachother so many years ago in college, could have led to this?

and you wouldn’t wish it to be any other way.

— 12 years after the deal. present day.

so now here you are, head held high, once again holding back tears as you walk your way down the aisle. surrounded by everyone who has ever been dear to you, you scan your eyes around the room. natty, chenle, jeno, julie..

and mark. there he was.

you turned face to face to him, a smile twitching in his lips when he finally sees your face fully.

but your not listening as the registrar asks the next question.

“should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

the room is silent. so, incredibly silent, that you look up.

nothing could have prepared you for the face that you see, a smug grin plastered on his face as he stands in the doorway.

it’s donghyuck.

he speaks. “i think that, if there’s anyone who should be married today..”

silence.

“donghyuck?” mark asks in sheer disbelief, finally seeing his college bestfriend after twelve years of not hearing from him. and god, how he had changed.

“it should be yn and mark. my two bestfriends.”

a sigh of relief leaves you as marks face retorts from one of panic to annoyance.

“that’s not funny, man!” he complains, but donghyuck only laughs, along with the rest of the room and eventually mark too.

as the laughter subsides, you continue with the rest of the ceremony.

but unlike the deal you had made with mark in college, it was nothing compared to the deal you were making with him today, the deal which could only be summed up by two words. two words that you said with nothing but pride and warmth, holding the hand of the man who you made a stupid bet with when you were twenty.

“i do.”

and the deal, at last, was done.

[FULL SMAU MASTERLIST]

NOTES: this was actually so painful to write im hurting so bad

TAGLIST - CLOSED - @therealbobbyshloby @lostinneocity @aek1ra @haechansleftshoulder @sunghoonsgfreal @cyjzzl @nanaxwi @neocrashed @candied-czennie @alethea-moon @vantxx95 @nerdsungie @morkiee @sthwaaberry @sunnystarred @p-d1ddy @starfilledgaze @markeroolee @polarisjisung @222brainrot @grassbutneo @minsugahh @neogothyuckie

[morgana-larkin]

Me againnnn lmao I have another request could u do Melissa x reader where reader is normally quiet but someone brought up their special interest and everyone is kinda weirded out coz reader gets so happy and starts talking about it and sharing facts and stuff but no one except Melissa knows reader is autistic and someone says something mean to reader and she gets upset and Melissa comforts reader and also stands up for her (as always no pressure I’m so so so happy! u r the first person that iv come across who writes fics about Melissa and autistic reader I get so happy when I see a notification from u i literally jump up and down with happiness and your fics really help me to accept im autistic coz I’m still trying to come to terms with it anyway hope u r doing well🫶)

OMG YES! Info dumping! I love it. And I’m so glad my fics are helping you. Feel free as well to message me directly if you ever want. So my other obsession besides Lisa Ann Walter, is Doctor Who and Jodie Whittaker, so of course I chose to have the reader talk about her as the Doctor… I regret nothing 😊. I went a little extra at the end but I’m too gay for Melissa to care. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this so thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! As always, not edited in the slightest.

For everyone, feel free to keep sending me prompts, and I was thinking about writing a one shot about Cheesy as there’s not enough imo. Let me know if I should or not.

Title based off the song from Shrek 3 and the Italian word stronzo means asshole.

Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself

Warnings: someone is mean to reader, reader struggling with having autism(small part)

Words: 2.3k

You’re sitting in the break room at the table with Barb and Melissa. You get up to get a coffee and when you do you hear someone starting to talk about Doctor Who and you perk up.

You turn around to see Jacob, Mr. Morton and another teacher talking about it. “You guys watch Doctor Who?” You say and they stop talking and look up at you. Normally you’re quiet and don’t really say much as you’re recharging before you go and have to teach your kiddos again.

“Yes, do you watch it?” Jacob asks you and you nod with a big smile. Melissa looks up at you and sees your smile and she can’t help but smile herself. She’s had a crush on you since about 4 months after you started and it’s almost been 9 months that you’re working here.

“Well come here and share your thoughts about it.” Jacob says and you walk over to them, coffee in hand.

“What exactly is your discussion about?” You ask them.

“About the first female doctor, the 13th doctor.” Mr. Morton says and you keep smiling.

“She’s my favourite doctor! Like she’s so enthusiastic and passionate and she just loves everything about what she does! And she’s so funny too, it’s just a joy to watch Jodie play her!” You start and they look at you confused, wondering why you’ve always been quiet but now you’re talkative.

The truth is, you're autistic and the only one that knows is Melissa and she promised not to tell anyone since it’s your secret not hers. You told her because you felt like you kept missing social cues or taking things too literally, so you wanted someone in your corner to help you and she had no problem doing that for you. She looks at you talking so passionately about your favourite show with a smile and heart eyes before going back to her phone, secretly still listening to you.

“And her Tardis is so amazing, oh and her companion’s compliment her so well, and her outfit looks amazing. Did you know that Jodie helped decide on the outfit to support the LGBTQ community since she’s a huge ally. And also…” and you keep going on for about 5 minutes about how much you love the 13th doctor and her era on Doctor Who. Until the other teacher, you don’t know their name, the one Mr. Morton and Jacob were talking too, says something.

“OMG! Would you please shut up!” He says and you quickly shut your mouth. “I preferred it when you didn’t speak at all.” He says, glaring at you. And you look down at the ground, embarrassed before running out of there.

Melissa looked up when he started speaking and is now getting up and walking over to them. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that. You should count yourself lucky that I won’t contact one of my guys on you.” She says and looks at Jacob. “Why didn’t you say anything?!?” She says to him “or you?” She says to Mr. Morton.

“Sorry Melissa, it all happened so fast.” Mr. Morton says and Jacob nods in agreement.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She says to the teacher that was mean to you.

“Hey, we were just sitting here talking about it until she cuts in and starts talking about everything that we weren’t even discussing. And she wouldn’t stop talking.” The teacher says , only making a deeper hole for himself. Melissa glares at him.

“I don’t care what you think! There’s better ways to do that!” She says to him.

“She shouldn’t have talked so much and knew that it was too much.” He says, still trying to defend himself.

“She’s autistic you stronzo!” She yells at him and then realises that she just told your secret and has wide eyes. All 3 of them look at her speechless, now understanding that you got excited and were info dumping and didn’t mean to talk so much. Melissa turns around and walks out of the break room and goes to find you.

She ends up finding you in your classroom crying on your chair, hugging your legs. She knocks on the door, “hey y/n it’s me, just wanted to come check on you.” She tells you.

You get up and unlock the door then open it. Melissa’s heart breaks a bit when she sees you. Eyes puffy, red and watery, tear stained cheeks and red nose from you blowing your nose.

“Oh hun.” She says and you walk back to your chair hugging your legs again. Melissa walks in and closes and locks the door then walks over to your desk. “Hey, he was an ass, he shouldn’t have said that to you.” Melissa tells you and crouches down and you look at her.

“No, he’s right, I was talking too much. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in their conversation. I just got so excited,” you tell her and you sniffle a bit.

“Hun, it’s understandable, I know how much you love Doctor Who. You have nothing to be ashamed about.” She tells you and grabs your hand. “Btw I might have accidentally told them that you’re autistic. As in I told them and called that teacher a stronzo for you.” She tells you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to slip out, I just got angry that he was mean to you.” She says, rubbing your hand with her thumb.

“It’s ok, they would have found out eventually. But this is another reason I don’t engage in conversations, cause I might talk too much.” You tell her. Melissa gets up and opens her arms out.

“Come here.” She tells you and motions to hug her. You put your feet down on the ground and then hug her waist since you’re still sitting in your chair. “Why don’t we go back in there, finish lunch. And then after school you can come to my place and I can make you some food and we can watch whatever you want.” She suggests and you look at her surprised.

“Really?” You ask her and she nods. “I would love that.” You tell her and she smiles. She helps you up and then unlocks the door and opens it for you. You both walk out and she sees you’re nervous about going back. She puts an arm wrapped around your back and her other hand on the arm closes to her and rubs it, providing comfort for you.

You get back in and when you enter everyone stops and looks up at you. Melissa can feel you immediately tense up. “What are all youse looking at?” She says and glares at everyone. Everyone immediately looks back down to their phone or food and continues what they were doing. Melissa leads you back to the table where Barb is and Barb gives you a comforting smile.

The teacher that was mean to you gets up and comes over to you. Melissa sees him coming over and glares at him, almost daring him to hurt you again. He has his head hanging a bit, looking embarrassed and stands beside you and you look up at him.

“Hey y/n, I just wanted to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I’m sorry.” He tells you and you nod your head at him. You’re too overwhelmed right now and can’t speak. You finish your lunch without saying another word and Melissa keeps glancing at you, worried about you.

You finish up the day quietly. You get the kids to work on their book report so that it’s silent and you don’t have to talk much. At the end of the day, when your last student was picked up you glance over at Melissa down the hall. You taught first grade so your classrooms are close together.

You can’t help but stare at her. She’s bending over and offering one of her students a high five before waving bye to them to go with their parent. You decide to leave now while she’s distracted, you think that maybe it wasn’t the best to get Melissa involved in your situation and shouldn’t have told her you’re autistic. So many people have had to accommodate you or help you and you feel like you should be able to do it yourself now that you’re an adult.

Melissa sees you look at her with a sad expression on your face before leaving. She can’t help but feel like maybe you won’t come over to her place now. When her last student is leaving with their parent a couple minutes later, she practically books it to the parking lot but sees your car is already gone.

She drives home and gets to work on cooking dinner, hoping you’d show. But then she gets a text from you saying that you won’t be able to make it tonight, and she sighs. She researched autism when you told her a few months ago and she knows that when autistic people get overwhelmed, they hide themselves away. She offered for you to come to her place to de-stress with food and tv, so she does the next best thing. After she finished cooking, she packed it into a container, and brought it with her to your place. She went and knocked on your door.

You answered it not too long later with leggings and loose shirt on. “Melissa? What are you doing here?” You ask her.

“Well since you won’t come over to my place, I thought I’d come to you.” She says with a warm smile and you now feel even more guilty for cancelling on her. “I brought over food I made. So either we can eat here or we can go back to my place. Choice is up to you.” She tells you with a shrug. You decide to go to her place and when you get there she gives you your favourite hoodie of hers and you sit on the couch. You’ve been to her place before and you told her that the plastic felt weird to sit on and she removed it the next day so that you’re comfortable when you go there. “Hey, you don’t have to speak but I just want to know that you’re ok.” She says and you nod. She gives you a plate of the food and you see that it’s her spaghetti and meatballs dish. Your favourite food of hers and you smile at her. She joins you on the couch, sitting next to you and then hands you the remote so you can decide what to watch, you decide on Shrek 3.

You watch the movie while eating, with Melissa right next to you, you in her hoodie, and you finally feel like you’re calming down. You put your head on her shoulder after you put your empty plate on the coffee table and she wraps her arm around you. You continue the movie, quoting some of the lines, and when it plays the ending scene with puss and donkey singing thank you, Melissa gets an idea. She guides you up and leads you to the empty space beside her couch and starts dancing with you. When the chorus comes on she sings it to you “I wanna thank you for lettin me be myself…again” She sings and you laugh. When she says the line again, she spins you while singing. The second chorus comes up “come on sing it with me.” She tells you.

The both of you sing it while dancing “I WANNA THANK YOU FOR LETTIN ME BE MYSELF…AGAIN.” You both sing at the top of your lungs. When it ends you’re both laughing and she hugs you.

“Thank you for letting me be myself.” You tell her and she looks at you with a warm smile and places a lock of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek.

“It’s not a problem hun, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re autistic you know. You just think differently, and that's alright.”

You look in her eyes and you lean forward and kiss her. Melissa kisses you back and moves her hand from your cheek to the back of your head and places her left hand on your waist. You pull back and look at her with a smile.

“You kissed me back.” You say to her and she nods. “Why?”

“Because I like you. I have for a few months now.” She tells you.

“For how long?” You ask her and she thinks about it.

“Around the new year.” And you look at her in shock.

“But that’s after I told you I was autistic.” You tell her, putting the pieces together. “You knew I was autistic and you still like me?” You question her.

“How would you being autistic make me not like you?” She asks you, confused.

“Because I’m different than other people and have struggles because of it.” You tell her like it’s obvious.

“So? Everyone is different in their own way and everyone has their own struggles.” She tells you. “For example, I have trouble letting people in, because of trust issues. And I can have a short temper too.” She says and you look at her with so much love in your eyes. You kiss her again and she doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

When the person says “you may kiss the bride” , she doesn’t hesitate to give you a kiss then either. With a huge smile, she brings you closer to her and gives you a kiss, as wife and wife.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

Let me know if you want to be added! 🙂

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 117 }

shut up and dance with me.

tsukishima kei x fem.reader x oikawa tooru

college au

banner credit to @luneariaa ( and @madeimoisellesoleil for helping! )

dedicated to @svrakas for showing me the specific tiktok by @/5yaff that inspired this fic ♡

tsukishima kei was not a person who enjoyed going out to clubs-

yet the same couldn't be said about you, his girlfriend of 3 years.

he honestly felt so tired after coming home from a long day of classes. all he wanted to do was cuddle up next to you on your couch, put on some cheesy rom-com he knew would make you laugh and smile while indulging on your favorite takeout order.

yet the moment he entered your shared apartment and was greeted by your saccharine smile and melodious laughter, kei knew he was screwed.

because this- this was a telltale sign that you wanted something from him.

"alright spill, just what the hell do you want?"

you sputter a bit, appearing flustered while stomping your feet a bit (okay, he'll admit it, you were too fucking cute for your own good.)

"there's no need to be so rude, kei! i-i just thought, well... aren't you feeling a bit of cabin fever here? we haven't left our apartment in months."

kei scoffs while pushing up his glasses. "we've left the apartment plenty of times. or have you forgotten that we need groceries every month?"

"that's what i'm saying kei, i don't wanna leave our home just to do mundane things! i wanna go out to bars, i want to dance and just have a great time with my boyfriend!" as kei watches you go on and on about your supposed cabin fever, he notices how you kept pacing back and forth, sending him cute little pouty glances his way, your expression reminding him of a puppy desperate for attention.

"please can we go out and do something fun, kei, pleeeeaaase?"

he could feel the impending headache that was close to settling near his temple, yet something about disappointing you left a bad taste in his mouth.

with a sigh, he clenches his eyes shut while massaging the bridge of his nose. "alright fine, we can go out, but only for a few hours! when 11pm hits, we're out of there, got it?"

an excited squeal was heard coming from your parted lips, and kei relishes in the way you jump up against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to place a kiss against his lips before hurriedly bouncing away from him.

"i'll be out in 30 minutes, babe!"

he listens as you slam the door shut, running a hand through his blond hair while his golden irises narrow in annoyance, knowing he had to take some tylenol before heading out, just as a precaution to prevent any migraines from rearing its ugly head.

{ ... }

to say kei felt pissed the moment he stepped into the club would be a complete understatement.

he allows the heavy fumes to surround you and him, buying you one of your favorite drinks as he stands off to the side. his glare was obvious, and he kept you by his side throughout it all.

this was the worst idea ever, since kei did not feel like dancing. he refuses to remove himself from his spot on the wall, taking sips of his strawberry daiquiri that was way too sweet. from his periphery, he sees your jittery movements and asks what was wrong.

"uhm, well, this is my favorite song that's playing, and i'd really love it if you could dance with me, kei."

by now, the tylenol clearly was not working, for he could feel the pinpricks of a migraine beginning to break through, the dull pain coursing through him as he places the rest of the drink off to the side. your name comes out of his lips in an exasperated sigh. "if you want to dance, just dance by yourself. i have a headache and don't feel like doing anything."

kei refuses to allow your hurt expression to sway him, ignoring the painful lump in his throat at the sensation. he hated being the cause of your pain so much, even though he knows he can be a complete asshole at times.

he was about to say something, ready to change his mind and dance with you after all when the sight of someone with cinnamon brown hair and a wide grin stops him in his tracks.

"what's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone?" like a bucket filled with ice was just thrown at him, kei watches as your attention was stolen by that perfect stranger.

"oh, i-it's nothing. it's just, my favorite song is playing..."

"what?! then why are you waiting here?! let's go dance!"

not even looking back at him, kei watches as another man takes you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor, feeling the sharpest pain he had ever felt while watching you smiling and dancing with someone that wasn't him.

{ ... }

you decided to ignore kei the moment this handsome stranger whisks you away from him, giggling while having a great time dancing to your favorite song.

the man's rich laughter fills your ears, and you found your heart unexpectedly skipping its beats at the sound of it. "so... was that pissant your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes while turning around to face him, still dancing with him while talking to him through the music, "yeah, he's an asshole, but... he's my asshole."

now that you could see him up close, you realized that this guy was utterly gorgeous. with gentle brown locks of hair cascading over his forehead and coffee brown eyes, you felt as though you could drown in his gaze. his full lips were upturned in a gentle smile when he suddenly leans in to whisper to you.

"don't look now, but i think your man is getting jealous."

"hmph, serves him right for not dancing with me."

you could feel the stranger's smile against the shell of your ear, "well, maybe this will get him to react like the way you want him to."

the fast-paced song suddenly turns into something slower and more intimate, making you gasp when your dance partner takes you in his arms while looking behind him. you couldn't tell what he was doing, but from the way he held up his hand while lifting up a finger aimed directly at your boyfriend, you could feel the heat rising up against your cheeks.

"you- why did you do that for?!"

the handsome stranger lets out another laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "i can tell how much you love him, but just between you and me, if you ever want a real man in your life, come find me. my name's oikawa tooru..."

before you could even deny the need to ever find him, tsukishima was immediately standing in front of you, shoving oikawa away with his chest puffing out in response. "i think that's enough of you grinding on some other man's woman. know your place, asshole."

his voice was filled with venom as oikawa takes a step backwards, hands held up in feign defeat as amusement was seen shining in his chocolate brown gaze. "hey hey, no need to get so upset, i was just helping her have a good time, that's all."

"we're leaving."

unable to say anything else, you look back at oikawa and give him an apologetic expression, only to be met with his wide smile as he mouths something at you.

take care and be happy.

{ ... }

"yo, jackass, your blind date just saw that stunt that you pulled and left the bar."

oikawa was forced to look away from the retreating couple, meeting his best friend's angry gaze with a sheepish expression on his face. "ah, damn iwa, did izumi leave after all?"

"that's what i just told you." iwaizumi's scowl was enough to make oikawa laugh as he walks away from the dance floor and back to his table. "was this why you invited me? so i could keep the girls you reject company while you fuck around?"

"ah come on, don't be that harsh iwa-chan! because when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a bastard."

"that's because you are a bastard." iwaizumi lets out a huff while downing the rest of his drink. "that tall blond looked like he was ready to kick your ass."

"heh, i highly doubt that." oikawa takes his glass and takes a swig out of it. "i was just playing cupid, you know? his girl was way too cute for a tightass like him, so i just did something to make him take action."

oikawa has to bite back his laughter, making a tremendous effort to keep it from bubbling out of him. "you? playing cupid? don't make me sick, assikawa."

"alright alright, i'll shut up." he sighs while leaning back on his seat, thinking back to that super cute girl with that beanpole boyfriend. "she was really cute though, so i'm hopeful that she'll take me up on my offer..."

{ ... }

"kei, s-stop, you're going too fast- k-kei, you're hurting me!"

with a gasp, kei finally stops walking, looking behind him to see you holding back your tears. he looks down and finally realizes that he has been holding your hand in a vicegrip while dragging you along, further fueling his guilt.

letting you go, he turns away from you while letting out a string of curses.

"i know you want to do it, so just fucking do it." kei was glaring at you, and he knew that he was just jealous and upset, but he couldn't stop himself.

"d-do what, kei?"

he takes your hand and leads you towards an alleyway, somewhere private and away from any prying eyes. "i know you want to break up with me and go back into that bastard's arms, that's what you want, right? a fun and energetic guy that shares all of your interests and will dance with you on a whim?"

"if that's what you want, then go, go and just-" before kei could continue with his rant, he was suddenly stopped by you. he sees the way you stand on the tip of your toes, placing your hand against his jawline before kissing him. you perfectly place your lips against his in a gentle kiss, and he, being too enamored with how sweet you tasted, basks in it.

the moment your lips met with his, he forgot all about the anger and annoyance he felt. the jealousy was whisked away, forgotten like a puff of smoke escaping into the cold night air. not wanting to let you go, kei wraps his arms around you, allowing his fingertips to play with the soft strands of your hair.

he could feel his heart pounding from out of his chest when you pull away from the kiss first. your eyes were filled with adoration and kindness, and he felt like such a bastard all over again upon realizing that you still loved him, even now.

with a grunt of your name, kei wraps his arms around you, burying his face within your hair while murmuring an apology.

"'m sorry."

"i'm sorry, too." was your reply. you silently beckon him to face you, framing his handsome face with your two hands.

"i know you were probably tired from your classes and wanted to just stay in. i'm sorry for making you go out when you probably felt tired. how about we order some ramen and we can stop by that bakery and get you the strawberry shortcake that you love so much?"

kei was absolutely astounded by how sweet you were, making him give you a tiny frown, "you're not mad at me?"

"of course not, silly."

"you don't want to leave me?"

"nope!"

"even when i'm a bastard?"

"you're my bastard."

"and you still love me?"

"i'll always love you!" you answer him with the widest and most beautiful smile that kei felt his heart ache and turn soft in response.

he remains silent, simply embracing you once more while pressing a kiss against your hair.

"next time we go out, i promise i'll shut up and dance with you when you ask."

and truly, you wouldn't want him any other way ♡

a.n. - it's been so long since i've written anything for my haikyuu!! boys; this is currently unedited, but i hope you readers enjoy this story! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[urlocaldesertdweller]

Reader X Mafia! Venture pt2

ah yes the wanted and requested pt 2

(PLEASE READ PT 1 BEFORE READING THIS, or don't idc)

https://www.tumblr.com/urlocaldesertdweller/757756682688495616/reader-x-mafia-venture?source=share

srry yall i took the more wholesome route cuz im a wuss. :,)I made Venture a hopless romantic cheesy kind of possessive person.?? help me (I also confirmed them listening to love songs during all of this thinking about u<3)

That one night you encountered the Sloan Cameron, you thought it was the only time you were going to see them, you thought that was that. You really thought you were going to have a normal life after that.

It's only been so many eventless days after that night that you noticed these "gifts" appear on your front door. First was a bouquet of thornless yellow roses. Considering you always doubted your own beauty and looks, you thought it was a mistake until you picked it up to find a pale brown envelope with "To (Y/n)" written in a yellow glitter gel pen.

In this city, you would've had the right mind to not pick anything suspicious with your name on it, the number of horrible things people can plan to lure people out of their protective homes to sweep them away. But considering you almost seem to be known for making bad choices you pick it up and rush into your safe home quickly locking it and shutting your blinds.

You felt like a little detective when you set the flowers and letters on the table under the light looking for anything you can find. A sign, a signal, a message something can bring a thought or an idea to your head but nothing came up until you finally opened the letter. Everything was written in what seemed to be an attempt at cursive and many smudges and cross-outs with more ink can be seen it makes you chuckle. This love letter you see looks like a messy 5th-grade paragraph.

"Well, you finally got the courage to pick up this letter mi amor! If you manage to figure out who sent this, well you got me! But anyway I just wanted to send you this so you wouldn't be too scared when more gifts come your way. I'll keep things simple for your pretty head gorgeous. You caught the eye of a dangerous but sweet person you have already met, everything you do and say makes my heart skip a beat more than any heist I can pull off. I want to give you every rose in the world and make you mine for the rest of my life. You truly catch my eyes more than any other relic or artifact from the past."

You have to admit that whoever wrote this was clearly in some cheesy romantic mood, but being honest the words made your stomach stir with clear interest despite the red flags appearing in your head. But looking further into the letter to find much smaller text, it seem that they completely had given up on the cursive and went back to normal handwriting.

"-P.S. If you know who I am (did I make it too obvious?) Please find me during the night, but you won't find me but I'll certainly find you! ;)"

You feel your hand twitch wanting to slap yourself in the face feeling the second-hand embarrassment radiating off of this goofy letter. You didn't have to think too hard about wondering who could've sent such a letter. You turn to the bouquet, picking it up. You inhale the sweet subtle scent, these would certainly brighten up the place along with its beautiful fragrance.

The realization finally hits you as you fill up your best vase with water. Someone likes you. Not only that but they like you enough to send you roses with a cheesy letter full of effort. Until your heart stops to remember who likes you, you know easily it's Sloan Cameron. But why? What could have possibly caught their interest about you.? Not only were you going to confront Sloan but you were going to question them.

It's night once more, you have mentally prepared yourself for this moment as you pull your jacket on. A normal life they said, a normal life that feels so out of reach now with a gang member having a crush on you. These past few days have certainly been full of mixed feelings, to say the least.

You step to your door, and you hesitate to reach for the knob a million thoughts rush to your mind. One was thinking about Sloan waiting for you and they will be waiting with a weapon in their hand, another says that they'll kidnap you and keep you as a love toy or something weird like that... It's really telling how you were feeling with most of the thoughts ending in a negative and dreadful outcome.

No, you can do this! If you can watch them bury a body, and outrun them, you can certainly face them when they supposedly confess to you about like like you. Yeah, you can do this!

You throw your palm onto the knob, completely ignoring the fact you just drenched it in your own sweat, but you swing the door open and step out with confidence! You were almost full of too much confidence as you nearly left the house with the door wide open, you scramble to lock it as you huff returning to your nightly stroll.

Of course, you always felt like something was watching you even before your encounter with Sloan. You stuff your hands into your pockets, and you keep on glancing all over the streets even taking a look from the rooftops as if Sloan would be there watching you from above like Batman.

It would be some time until you thought of walking towards where you first found Sloan, at the rotting graveyard where you caught them slacking during their work. You huff watching the environment change in minutes until you finally stop at the edge of the dry grass looking upon the tombstones.

You realize that where the fresh hole was now filled up with a pile of dirt with a wooden cross. You figured that this was the grave that Sloan Cameron just finished days ago. Despite Sloan killing numbers of people you can't even imagine, you felt that it was somewhat bittersweet for them to have some sort of respect to give the people proper graves.

You hummed and whistled shuffling around waiting. You almost thought about moving somewhere else until you heard boots echo through the small alley from your side you saw a figure in the shadows which made you jump a little. You seemed to always act innocent and dumb during situations like these.

"Hello.?"

You say loud enough to echo towards the walls of the alley. The figure starts to walk toward you, and the long silence makes you more nervous thinking there's a good chance that this isn't Sloan. Your legs feel the blood rush and you feel like running all of a sudden.

You panic as the figure starts to run towards you, they are too close for you to even try to run. You yelp to see the shadow enter the light. Even though you see Sloan stop right in front of you, you are still scared as you pull your hands up defensively with a yelp.

"Please dont hurt m-!"

"(Y/n) calm down it's just me!"

You hear them giggle which frustrates you with how cheery they can act after almost giving you a heart attack.

"...Sloan! Dont ever scare me like that again! I thought you were some crook wanting to kill me.."

You lightly shove them in the shoulder with a pout. They only keep on chuckling which makes you almost want to break your sternness for a moment.

"Alright alright I won't do it again I promise mi joya!"

They say with a wink which reminds you of why you came out here in the first place. You keep a stern look which seems to get the message towards Sloan and they almost seem to look like a kicked puppy. Besides the butthurt look, they can tell that you want to say something. You take this moment to finally take a peek at their clothing, it seems that they were still wearing the same work outfit but lost the thick jacket allowing you to glance at their well-built arms, the loss of their jacket gives you the possible idea that they were off duty.

"...What is it.? What happened.? Did you not like my gift.?!"

They seem to say everything out in a heartbeat clearly worried about what you are going to say. You only sigh and push a finger towards their lips hushing them before they can assume what's wrong. You tighten your eyes to which theirs widen but they quickly pipe down.

"You think too much. Just let me talk okay!?"

They dont bother with moving away from your placed finger and they nod with a mhm! Again you ask yourself how someone like them got such a dangerous and dark job.

"First of all. The flowers were nice and so I thank you."

You watch them smile a little clearly feeling proud of themselves that you liked at least half of their gift but they are quite down to hear you out once more.

"But! The letter dear god the letter..."

They cough and you watch their faces upturn into a nervous smile as they shuffle uncomfortably tugging on the collar of their tucked button-up.

"I dont know what to think honestly. And I was hoping that tonight could be where we can talk about this...thing you have on me. That's all, don't get all sweaty and scared yet!"

They look like they have been holding their breath for a while you guess suspecting a complete rejection. They exhale and they bend over their bends catching their breath before quickly shooting back up bright as ever.

"...Yeah we can talk! Yep, talking is my...number one thing heh..."

Never mind they still seem tense around you. You only sigh as you shift on your feet wanting to move around instead of staying at this gloomy graveyard.

"You dont have to keep up an act with me, I just want a simple walk and talk with you, set some ground rules know.?"

They perk up and step aside letting you leave the graveyard first with a bow. You can't help but chuckle at their charm with you, you can't deny that it warms your heart a little at the thought. You step out from the rotting wood fences and Sloan follows behind you eventually walking up beside you, you notice that ever since they have been keeping almost a look on you not the creepy kind but the more admiration kind which makes you chuckle.

"So... Was it all too much.? Yknow in the letter.?"

You look at Sloan with a small grin.

"Being honest, yeah if I hadn't met you before I would definitely think that I'd have a stalker."

They feel their cheeks redden up and they look down at the sidewalk stuffing their hands in their pants pockets.

"But whatever is going on, between you and me right now. I'm just going to need some time to think right now okay.? That's all I need, you can send all of the gifts to your heart's content but if you want you and me to know be a thing much more talking and discussions will be in order.!"

They lift their head and look up at you with a small grin, they look at you like a fallen angel for you gifting them a chance. You bump your shoulder into theirs jokingly to lighten the mood to which they find themselves giggling and bumping back.

"Me? Oh yeah! I'm surprised you haven't called the cops on me for finding me during my job! It's a gift alone that you are even talking to me with my kind of reputation! But yeah you can take all the time you need."

The two of you share a comfortable moment of silence seems that both of you are content with how this meeting is going. As you walk further up the street you pass the bar you left that one late night that led the two of you first meeting. You thought that you were going to pass and eventually do a turnaround until you felt Sloan's hands grip on your wrist stopping you right in front of the large entrance.

"Hey, my gang owns this building and bar yknow.? There is a really nice view from the high levels I promise you!"

Before you can even turn to look at them to speak they whip out their best puppy eyes shining straight into yours, they tug on your sleeve hoping that you play along...walking into the same building the gang that your supposed stalker also works for.? Yeah, you are dead before you know it. You only sigh which sends the signal to them and they smile the biggest you've seen them smile and before you know it they pull you towards the entrance ignoring the long line that stretches along the street then cuts around the corner.

You remember waiting in this long line just to get a good drink, you feel the pairs of eyes burn holes into your back as Sloan stops in front of a tall bodyguard who only glances at you and then at Sloan.

"Heya Tuilp! ...Dont worry about them, they are my guest!"

Tulip grunts and nods and Sloan drags you into the bar where the music blasts and the whole mood seems to shift in the main bar. The bar already made you feel out of your element until you had some drinks to relax your nerves.

But Sloan glances at you and giggles then continues to guide you through and past the main Bar to where the overall vibe and aesthetic of the building changes to one of more professionalism. From the high ceiling to the complete sets of marble walls and flooring. The glass elevator further amazes you and you are tuck in with Sloan. Your gaping mouth at everything tells Sloan everything about you during this.

"So I can tell you haven't been in this part of the building before!"

"This place is...certainly gorgeous..."

If the bar alone made you feel the odd one out, this much cleaner rich lobby-looking room made you feel like a wanted target. Sloan pushes one of the highest buttons and before you know it the elevator shoots up faster than you could think, which makes your heart race, the feeling alone of quickly gaining height makes your legs shake...it also didn't help that you had a bit of a fear with heights.

Sloan leans forward noticing your yelp then quick silence, soon watching your shaky legs they know. They can't help themselves so they grab onto your hand and hold it tight. You look at them and only grin and soon enough your mind starts to focus on the warm skin-to-skin contact between your hands instead of the continuing elevator.

Soon enough you hear a ding and the doors open behind you. And you smell the fresh air and feel the cool wind hit you, Sloan still holding on your hand interlocks your fingers into theirs and they lead you out into the warm night. You eventually let go of their hand and you walk towards the railing.

"Pretty nice huh.? I like to come out here from time to time when times get too rough for me..."

They join you by your side on the railing looking at you with a smirk seeing your stare into the sky. Sloan wasn't kidding, although you could easily see the stars back down from the streets. All the way up on the building Sloan's gang owned, you couldn't help but feel closer to the night sky and further away from the chaotic city. You feel yourself leaning on the railing feeling your eyes never cease to pull away from the tinkling and blinking stars.

"This is beyond beautiful..."

The two of you continue to look upon the shiny sky, the moon is bright enough to place a light on the two of you. Your eyes finally break away to look around on the surrounding floor. You quickly realize now that this was the sky roof and a part of the roof garden. Now you know how Sloan got the roses for you, you can't help but think that this was slightly planned by Sloan and you eye them up with a smirk before nodding towards the large garden. Surprisingly everything looks happy and thriving for living in a city like this.

"Did you plan on taking me up here to the garden as well, ya charmer..."

"Well, you could say that I did have some sort of plan to show you one of the prettiest places I know! I'd just thought it could be nice to share it with someone who isn't from the gang yknow.?"

You walk further into the garden, and you hear Sloan's boots thump against the floor which makes your heart beat just a little faster, you never thought that you could have such a fun time with a gang member on a rooftop. You turn all around to look at the variations of plants ranging from vegetables, and fruits, to flowers.

"Oh? Would you say that all of this gang stuff weighs down on you from time to time.?"

They stay quiet and you turn to look at them with a look of concern.

"..."

"I'll take that as a yes then..."

You'd figure on changing the subject with taking their hand in yours and taking them towards the thorny rose bushes. A wave of the scent reaches you sense and you hum hopping to talk about roses instead of prodding with personal business with Sloan. They already seem to set their mind on the flowers, they take in a white rose in their hand cupping it, and bring it close to their nose. They slowly inhale and exhale seeming much more happier now which makes you relieved.

"Good to know where the roses came from then.!"

You chuckle as you glance at the bright moon finally noticing how bright it is with being able to see your...at this point, you'd forget with names and call them your date considering how intimate this is looking. They chuckle finally pulling away from the roses to look at you with the sweetest smile, maybe it was your unnecessary jacket for tonight but you felt a little warmer with their smile towards you.

"Yeah, I always looked for the best for you!"

The two of you share a laugh comfortably together once more until you hear a click... This makes the both of you widen and awake, but it seems that Sloan looks more nervous than you, which makes your heart race.

"Um, Sloan what was-!"

They grab onto your hand running which makes you yelp, you hear one more click then you realize what it was. Timed sprinklers, water shoots out all over the place. At that moment it almost felt like the sprinklers were getting more water on you and Sloan than the actual plants...

You both scream as you feel your clothes get soaked with water giving the extremely uncomfortable feeling of the clothes sticking to your skin. You walk too far into the rather large garden, and you watch Sloan just stop in the middle still getting hit with water they turn towards you their hair no longer fluffy and messy. You both look into each other's eyes feeling a message being sent through eye contact.

You can't bear your awful jacket anymore and you finally shuck it off feeling completely relieved and feeling 10 pounds lighter. Honestly the water eventually just felt like a nice outdoor shower...with your date.

"..."

"..."

You share a moment of silence before breaking out into a fit cheering and jumping. You had to admit the city would have its heatwaves even during the night somehow so this felt heavenly. It takes you a moment to realize that Sloan wrapped their arms around your waist and your jumps match in rhythm. Honestly, you didn't care what they did to you because, in your equally messed up head, you felt yourself catching feelings for the Mole.

"Whoo! This is amazing!!!"

"...I LOVE LIFE!!!!!!"

Eventually, the sprinklers stop leaving the two of you soaked, you stop jumping and you have nothing else to do but look at each other. Maybe it was the soaked feeling kicking in. Maybe it was Sloan holding you by the waist. But you felt yourself leaning in forward...

Honestly, when you closed your eyes you didn't know what to expect but you felt something soft against your lips. You open your eyes to see that Sloan is holding a freshly plucked rose between your lips and theirs. You felt a little embarrassed not only with how Sloan juked you but also realizing how much you fell for this person. Nevertheless, you pull away to watch them grow a smirk and they chuckle. You playfully beat against their shoulder which only makes them laugh harder to the point they start to wheeze.

They drop you on the ground as they hold their chest and whip a tear away.

"Oh my! I'm sorry I couldn't help it I'm sorry!"

You quickly find a way to get back at them by taking advantage of them being busy with laughing. You cup their cheek which stops them completely and you lean in to peck their wet cheek with your lips. They go from a laughing mess to a flushed stuttering mess, they bring their hands to their face trying hard to cover it.

"I wasn't ready... How dare you surprise me! Mind you I loved it but...yknow.!"

You only grab on their arm now you are the one dragging them away out of the gardens to find some method to dry each other off...

i did it :,) im rlly hoping yall like it even if I went the more cliche cringy route, maybe soon I can write a different more dark route if you want!

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk. 

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

__

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or 

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment… 

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil. 

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa. 

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

__

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy, 

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity.  You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully. 

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache. 

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being. 

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more. 

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects. 

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

__

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is… 

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

__

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

__

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

__

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him. 

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

__

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

__

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts. 

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….” 

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped. 

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it. 

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!” 

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear. 

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

[gojos-thot-patrol]

I really liked your dating HCs 😃 wanted to know if you could do the jjk men flirting with a crush HCs? 🥰 just all the stuff they try to do to woo a person if interest 😍

Aww, I'm glad you like my dating HCs! Flirting goes hand in hand with dating as far as I'm concerned, so lets do this!

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Kento Nanami

the quiet type

Nanami is so bad at flirting I'm being SO SERIOUS 

He doesn't really have the time or energy for it, so it's a struggle for him to flirt. 

All I can think about when I think about Nanami flirting is this clip.

I feel like he treats it as a business transaction because that's just what he knows and is familiar with

When he's not being extremely business savvy, he's trying to get to know you as a person. 

If you're going to make a relationship work, you have to know that person. So he's asking you about your hobbies, your childhood, your opinions, ect.

Now, I know what you're thinking Dear Reader. "Isn't that just what friends do?"

Yes. 

I told you, he's bad at this.

Honestly, you probably wouldn't have any idea he was interested in you romantically until he hits you with that, "I've had feelings for you for a while now, would you like to go out on a date with me?"

BLINDSIDED.

But, honestly? Considering all the Information he's gathered about you it's going to be one of the best dates of your life 

After that, his flirting does shaft. It turns more into him sending you “Good morning 💛” texts and checking in on you throughout the day. 

Also he cooks for you.

He flirts by learning your favorite dishes and learning how to cook them perfectly.

As far as he’s concerned, cooking for someone is the oldest expression of love and care, and he’s a sucker for cute traditions. 

He also starts to recommend media based on things you like. He’s flexing that he knows your taste

Ultimately Nanami flirts by showing that he knows you well, which is weird to say lol.

Suguru Geto

Prince Charming

Charismatic as fuck.

Out of all of these men he's the best at flirting. 

Suguru is very manipulative, and that translates Into him being phenomenal at flirting, because he can manipulate your emotions. 

I'd give an example but I can't cause he's better at flirting than I am by a mile

I think it's very subtle at first. Almost like him planting the thought of you liking him into your brain.

And once that seed has grown into a full on tree, his flirting becomes more overt, so you know he likes you and you like him

He definitely pebbles.

Giving you wildflowers he picked while the two of you were walking, giving you used books he annotated for you, sending you memes that made him think of you.

Do not be fooled reader, this man is Baby's First Manipulator and this is the start of love bombing.

He writes poetry for you. The type of poetry that when you first read it, it makes you all giggly and love sick, but when you read it after the breakup you realize it was all just pretentious garbage. 

SONG RECS. 

Geto flirts by giving you song recommendations, sending you music that reminds him of you, videos of live performances he thinks you’d like, and the like. 

Music genuinely forms the way this man interacts with the world, so when he starts sending you love songs that should honestly be the first hint that he’s into you. 

He sends his homies over to go and hype him up to you, that's the vibe

The moment you say you’re cold he's covering you in his jacket. 

“Where's my hug?”

Ok, no to the last point but also yes kinda.

I swear I physically CANNOT bring myself to be nice to Suguru

Satoru Gojo

the goofball

“Like my shirt? It’s made of boyfriend material.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

“Did it hurt when you fell? Cause you're the only Ten I See…wait, I think I fucked that one up.”

Gojo is CHEESY I TELL YOU. MAN IS DRIPPING IN CRINGE, DO YOU HEAR ME?!

But, it’s almost charming just how earnest he is in trying to woo you. 

He sends you those couple memes like “this could be us but you playin’” paired with a picture of minecraft diamond armor Halloween costumes

He takes you to watch slasher movies so you get scared and cling to him, but ends up getting spooked and clinging to you.

When he looks at you you just see his eyes glittering with adoration

When he looks at you he just sees you through the Shojo vision filter

He always looks for a reason to touch you. Brushing your hair behind your ears, his knees brushing yours when you sit next to each other, anything. As long as you’re comfortable with it of course.

He slips notes into your pocket with other cheesy pick up lines or cute little doodles.

It starts with him just jokingly flirting to hide his real emotions, but it only makes his heart burn brighter for you.

You noticed it, when slowly it turns from him laughing after a cheesy pick up line to him nervously chuckling and trying to hide his blush.

He can’t look at you without smiling, at least just a little bit. 

His heart gets fluttery and he starts to get a little more stuttery.

He decides that just flirting and leaving the chance of a relationship just hanging over you, indefinite and fuzzy, hurts WAY MORE than any possible rejection could hurt

He slips a note into your pocket that's like “Wanna go on a date with me? For real this time! Yes No”

Gojo’s flirting just shows his inexperience with romance and seduction tactics, but it’s almost charming in that way

Ryomen Sukuna

The Monster

This man is Radioactive besties, idk how to tell you want nothing he’s peddling. 

He doesn't even flirt.

His flirting is telling you you belong to him and slaughtering anyone who dares to disagree. 

He flirts by being nice to you homie. 

Actually, no, scratch that. He flirts by not being actively hostile.

His tsundere ass would literally kidnap you, force you to spend as much time with him as inhumanly possible, and still be like “I don't understand why you think i like you.”

Basic kindness is his flirting. Like, honestly I don’t know to go about his section of this because he just doesn’t flirt LMAO

Him flirting is him just like, staring at you like a weirdo and just expecting you to know what that means

Him flirting is calling you woman instead of wench

On the real though, flirting is mostly seen in him being over protective of you. 

Like, god help any other person that talks to you where he can see it.

He’s going to choke slam them.

He picks on other people than immediately looks at you for approval because he thinks that sharing violence is flirting.

Honestly, that’s how he flirts. He goes out of his way to try and gain your approval.

He’s like a cat that brings you a dead bird, only the dead bird was another possible suitor.

Except he doesn’t know how to be a decent human being so it’s just him doing the most unhinged and horrific shit then looking at you like “I do good?”

No Ryomen, you don’t do good.

And yet, you’ve won my heart anyway. What a bother.

[qveerthe0ry]

Lions Ain't the Kind - Part One

Summary: Frankie hasn't dated in years, but now he knows what he's looking for. He's just not so good at asking for what he wants, and you're willing to help him work on it. Word Count: 8,156 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom! reader, talks about gender non-conformity, sickening fluff, Frankie is way too cute and sweet for his own good, kissing, making out, handjob (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), dirty talk, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader Beta: @perotovar (my angel ilysm) A/N: Sorry for talking about this for a month straight without posting it lol! The title is from the song (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis Presley which I admittedly haven't listened to but I saw the lyrics and knew immediately it was my Frankie. I hope you enjoy, and I'm always open to criticism and thoughts and thots!

Frankie hasn’t dated in years. He hasn’t really had the time, between his first child being born and navigating co-parenting with his ex, along with healing some very deep trauma and getting and staying clean. 

It just hasn’t been on his mind, if he’s honest. He’s been busy finding himself, as Pope calls it. And he’s not wrong. It’s taken a long while for him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come to terms with the things he’s done and the baggage he can now store in an overhead bin, rather than carry it around with him at all times. 

But now, he’s ready. He knows himself, and as a result, he knows what he’s looking for.

Someone kind-hearted and down to earth. Someone who’s independent and established, but not just looking for a hookup. Someone with a sweet smile and a desire for enjoying the little things in life. 

Someone like you. 

He’d swiped right and left dozens of times on men and women alike, but as soon as he saw your profile on whatever dating app he’d downloaded, he was hooked.

You were gorgeous. He felt the heat from your smile through his phone screen, so happy and genuine and sweet.

You were funny, the answers to those weird icebreaker questions full of witty remarks.

You were smart, clearly, from your shoutout to your alma matter and the ‘boring’ job you mentioned in your profile.

He honestly figured he had no chance at all. His face is only getting more wrinkly, and his hair more gray, and he’s never been the sharpest or funniest guy in the room. 

So when he swiped left and you matched, he was stunned. He was even more shocked when you messaged him before he could even think of what to say to you. 

Hi cutie 🥰 

Despite the fact that he was home alone on his couch, he had the sudden urge to look behind him, as if you’d be talking to someone else. The back of his neck got so warm, and your boldness only made him more into you. 

So he messaged you back

Hi :) how are you?

I’m surprised we matched, honestly. Pleasantly surprised 😊

Same here :) Why the surprise though? I’m sure you match with everyone

Not at all, it’s hard to find people whose type I am on here. I usually use the queer dating apps but I opened this one out of boredom. What are the chances?

What are the chances, indeed, Frankie thinks, as he gives your profile another look over. Frankie doesn’t understand how you aren’t everyone’s type. He feels a little bit like he’s talking to a celebrity, looking at your pictures and just a snippet of who you are on this reductive dating app. 

I like the odds :)

——

As your conversation continues normally over the next few days, Frankie learns a lot about you. He also learns a lot about himself. 

It’s been so long since he’s played the field, so to speak, that he’s rusty as all hell and a bit awkward. He’s afraid to flirt too much, every message deleted and re-written at the risk of sounding too cheesy or too forward or too much. 

You aren’t afraid to flirt. You send ‘good morning, handsome’ and ‘sweet dreams, pretty boy’ texts every day and night. You tell him your day would be better if you could cuddle someone, you tell him when you’re taking a relaxing bath that you wished he were there to join you. 

And to say that Frankie likes it is a massive fucking understatement. 

He adores it, he thinks about you constantly, all day long while he works without access to his phone, all evening long while he waits on your replies, all night long, when you’ve bid each other goodnight out of nothing but courtesy for each other’s sleep schedules.

You lead him along like a timid puppy on a leash, showing him new things with patience and care and it drives him insane. He wants to meet up with you so bad, or even just call you on the phone to hear your voice. He thinks about it, late at night, if it’s higher or lower in register, if it’s smooth or raspy. He wants to learn everything about you. 

That being said, he’s not sure if he’s ever met someone who’s ‘non-binary/gender-fluid’ before. He doesn’t get out much, he hardly talks to anyone who he hasn’t known for years. 

So he googles. It doesn’t really help. He understands what it means, but he doesn’t know what it means to you. He wants to ask you a million questions, but is afraid to bring up even one, and ruin the moment, or sound like an idiot. 

You’re so kind though. So he bites the bullet. 

Can I ask you a question?

Your response comes almost immediately, now that it’s evening time, both finished with dinner— his takeout vs. your leftover spaghetti. 

Of course, pretty boy ❤️

He still flushes deep when you call him that, heat spreading all throughout his face and neck and chest. 

How did you know you were non-binary/ gender-fluid? 

He frets over the text a bunch before he sends it, making sure he worded it the same way you did in your profile. His heart pounds as he waits for your response. 

I’ve always just kind of known I didn’t feel like a man or a woman. I used to think everyone felt somewhere in between, and it was just normal to not feel like I checked either box, but then I realized no one else around me felt the way I did. And then I learned all the terms and whatnot, later on, and knew that’s what I am. Just kinda in between, neither and both, sometimes one and sometimes the other. If that makes sense?

His smile splits his cheeks as he reads your in-depth response, eating up every bit of information you’re willing to give him. 

That makes perfect sense to me. Thank you for sharing :) 

It doesn’t scare you off?

Frankie scoffs, as if anything about you could scare him off. At this point, you could show up on his doorstep with a dead body in a bag, and he’d throw it in his trunk, dispose of it, and then ask if he could maybe kiss you.

Not at all. Nothing about you scares me :)

——

It’s a few more days before Frankie works up the courage to ask for your phone number. You tell him you were wondering when he was going to finally ask for it. It makes him itchy to think about you waiting for him to ask, making him be the one to do it. In a good way. In a way that kind of makes him stiffen up in his briefs if he thinks about it for too long.

But now, as he settles in from a long day at work, his grin splits his face from ear to ear as he reads your text.

Can I take you out tomorrow night?

He likes it… a lot. He feels so fucking new to all this, like a fumbling newborn calf taking its first steps, and how forward you are eases him so thoroughly.

I’d love that :)

Meet me here at 5 for dinner. Casual dress, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome in anything 😘

It’s the longest 22 hours of his life, and it’s the shortest, all at the same time. Texting you, making funny jokes like his bones aren’t about to creep right out from under his skin with all the nerves buzzing his body. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, one right after the other. When he wakes in the morning it’s like he didn’t get a wink of sleep, his anxiety drumming up a million different scenarios of how it could go right and wrong. 

Calling Santi mid-morning on a Saturday when he knows he’s spending time with his family, because if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he may just float off into the ether. 

“I’m so fucking nervous, Pope, what do I do? How do I act? Can you just stake out at the bar and feed me lines through an earpiece?”

“Pendejo, fucking— grow a pair man. You’re cute and funny, you’ve got this.”

Reading your texts with pupils shaped like hearts:

I can’t wait to see you tonight, cutie ❤️

and 

I finally settled on an outfit

and

Is it weird that I’m not even nervous? I’m just excited to finally meet you

It is weird, Frankie thinks, but doesn’t dare tell you. It’s weird how he can’t even eat the plain toast he made for lunch without feeling bile rise in the back of his throat, and you’re just excited. It’s weird how he’s never, ever felt so gone over someone, and you haven’t even met yet. 

It’s not weird, it’s sweet :) I’m excited too &lt;3

It’s not a lie, but he’s omitting the truth a bit. He’s excited but he’s nervous, picking meticulously through his closet to find something casual but not too casual, something he likes the look of himself in, something he thinks you’ll like the look of. 

It only gets worse as he stares at google maps. The restaurant is 2.6 miles away, 11 minutes from his house. It’s 4:30, and he wants to leave already, but thinks maybe it’s better to deal with the anxiety in the comfort of his home rather than the parking lot, in case you’re there early too, and you can see how much of a fucking wreck he is. 

He watches the minutes tick up in the corner of his phone screen. At 4:36, he gets up, fusses in the mirror one last time, and leaves. 

When he parks in the lot in front of the bar & grill, you’ve already texted him. 

I’m here a little early, got all green lights. Saved us a table near the back. See you soon!

It’s 4:52. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes as he lets it out gently, counting just like his therapist taught him. And again. And one more time, and finally that anxious tingling in his fingertips is muted a bit and his heart rate is only slightly above normal. 

4:54.

He pulls the key from the ignition, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the door. 

He finds you instantly. 

You’re looking at him, and you’re smiling, and getting up from your chair as he approaches you. He barely even hears you greet him with all his blood rushing in his ears. 

“Hi, Frankie,” you say, and your arms stretch out to invite him in for a hug. 

He melts into your arms, his strained “hi” muffled in the crook of your neck. You squeeze him tight to you, and he hears you chuckle next to his ear. 

“Knew you’d be even cuter in person.”

He huffs out a laugh as you release him, and the tips of his ears burn. But you’re smiling so sweetly at him that it eases his nervous bones. 

“You look— can I call you handsome?” 

Fuck, he thinks, so fucking awkward. 

But your grin gets even wider. 

“Only if you mean it.” 

“I do,” he sighs, “like straight out of the cologne ads I’d rip out of my older sister’s magazines.”

He holds his breath as you react, the flutter of your eyelashes and the quivering of your lips and your laugh, bubbly and bright and soothing. 

And he isn’t lying, not even a little. You’re rugged but soft, romantic and alluring, and he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even as you take your seats across from each other, and the waiter comes to take your drink orders, and as your gorgeous eyes flit across the pages of the menu. He can’t stop looking, watching your mouth curve into a smile as you talk about your week and ask him about his. 

It’s pathetic, really, when the waiter asks if you’re ready to order, and you ask if he knows what he wants, because he hasn’t taken a single glance at the menu himself. He just hopes to god the dim lighting of the bar hides his flushed face and tells you to order first while he skims the menu. 

He ends up ordering exactly what you got, and floundering when your hand finds his on the tabletop. He watches your fingers trace his own from his nails to his knuckles, and flips his palm up for you to rest your hand in his. 

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” you tell him. 

His eyes flicker up from your joined hands to your smiling face, and his nerves completely melt away from the heat of your gaze. 

“Thank you for asking me,” he says.

“Would you have asked me, if I hadn’t asked you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, and there’s a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Eventually,” he nods, “I mean… probably.” 

Your eyebrows turn up in question, and he realizes how that sounds, jumping to backtrack. 

“Not like that! I just mean— You know… You’re uh… well, I feel like you’re way out of my league. And so maybe I’m a little… intimidated.”

You smile, then, and sigh, and squeeze his hand as you call him a sweet boy. It makes the room feel like it’s a hundred degrees warmer, like Frankie’s clothes are suddenly two sizes too small. 

“You aren’t so good at asking for what you want, are you?” 

He laughs then, and shakes his head. 

“Not really, no.”

“We’ll have to work on that, then.”

He clears his throat, and tugs at his collar with his free hand, breaking his gaze away from your face as you chuckle. He looks to find a waiter, or maybe an HVAC guy that could crank the AC to sub-zero temps for the remainder of the date. 

No luck. 

The rest of the date goes well. Surprisingly well. Frankie was worried that he’d be so out of practice that he’d freeze up, or say something stupid, or do something stupid, like knock over a drink or get food stuck in his teeth. 

But you’re just so easy to talk to, to click with. Of course, you’re the one who facilitates the conversation, asking him about his favorites— movies, TV shows, music, time of year. 

But he likes to think that he keeps the ball rolling well enough, is aware enough to remember to ask for some of your favorites— holiday, food, cocktails. 

By the time the check comes, he hardly realizes you’ve both had empty plates in front of you for a while, talking and laughing through your meals like you’re just catching up with an old friend. 

He protests when you grab the check, because of course he does. You’ve given him this incredible night, your comfortable company, your sweet smiles, and he feels like his offerings pale in comparison. 

“I asked you out, Francisco,” you tease him, having just learned his full name a mere 20 minutes ago. 

And he can’t really protest anymore, what with the shiver that’s tingling his spine and the goosebumps he tries to hide by gripping the chair underneath him. So he lets you pay, and thanks the waiter, and feels a rush of sadness when they come back with the check to sign. He really doesn’t want this evening to end. 

The apprehension falls second to the sensation of your hand on the small of his back, leading him out to the parking lot. 

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there,” you say, your thumb pressing a soothing circle into the base of his spine. 

So he walks to his truck, a little self-conscious about the out-of-dateness of it, and how he didn’t think to run it through a car wash before this. But mostly he’s just nervous about ending this date on a good note. 

“This is me,” he says, barely above a whisper, stopping at his driver’s side door. 

You smile at him when he turns to you. 

“Thanks again for coming out with me. I really did have a great time.”

This makes him smile through the unease, even as your hand drops from the small of his back. 

“I did too. Would you uh… wanna hang out again soon?”

Your face lights up, and Frankie wants to capture it in a bottle and take it home with him. Keep it at his bedside to use as a nightlight.

“Are you asking me on a date?” 

He chuckles and looks down to his feet like maybe it’ll redirect the flush in his face. You grab his hand, hanging by his side, and luckily you don’t make him speak again because he doesn’t know if he’s even able. 

“I’d love to. Really.” 

He smiles when he looks back up at you, only briefly, because you drop his hand and take a half step back. 

“Call me about it.”

“Wait!”

Your brow arches at him, because you weren’t really going anywhere, but Frankie’s mind is running a thousand miles a second. He thinks back to all the times you’ve goaded him into asking for what he wants, so far, and how it hasn’t bit him in the rear yet. 

“Can we— I… Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your smile softens, and you take that little half-step back closer to him, and he feels all the tension leak from his shoulders. 

“Yes, you can. Thank you for asking.”

He huffs, and smiles at you, and you’re reaching out to cup his jaw and grab his hip, and Frankie closes his eyes far too early, but it’s okay, because he feels your body heat and then your lips. 

He can’t hold back the hum that rumbles from deep in his chest, or the way that he goes a little boneless in your grasp. He finds your forearm and squeezes it, and your bicep too, anything to ground himself as your lips part and your tongue teases the seam of his lips. 

But then you’re pulling back, and it’s over far too quickly, and Frankie is also acutely aware of how tight his jeans feel. His face feels like it could melt right off of his skull. 

“Call me soon, Pretty Boy.”

He nods, speechless, and watches you disappear between the cars of the parking lot. On his way home, he’s already fretting over whether or not he should text you tonight, and what kind of date he should plan, and if his breath was okay when you let him kiss you. 

——

Frankie is perfect. 

You’re still not sure how you found this diamond in the rough that is Tinder. You thank every god you know the name of that you got bored and opened the app on auto-pilot that night. 

First of all, he’s so cute. He’s handsome in such a boyish way, with his dimples and unruly curls and patchy beard. 

But he’s also so kind, the way he talks to you like it’s a privilege, the way he asks careful and curious questions about you like he truly wants to know the parts of you that are deeper than what’s on the surface. 

Every simple text from him makes you smile, the way he always tries to make you laugh or cheer you up when you’re overwhelmed with the demands of life, as you often are.

And meeting him in person solidified everything you thought about him.

He seems like the textbook definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, if you ever get to call him that much. You hope you do.

In fact, it seems like it’s moving quite quickly in that direction when Frankie asks if you’d be down for a movie night. Some blockbuster he missed in theaters is finally streaming, and he thinks you’ll like it. 

You don’t tell him that you didn’t miss it in theaters, or that you thought it was just okay. 

You do tell him you’d be down to watch it, only if he came to your place, where the walls are thin and your surrounding neighbors all know you and watch out for you. Just in case he’s really good at acting  like a sweet, safe guy. 

You find yourself giddy as the weekend approaches, daydreaming at work about how the night will turn out. You tell him to come in comfy clothes, because you’ll be damned if you wear jeans in your own home, even for this sweet man. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, that’s my favorite kind of outfit :) is his cute response. 

You get everything ready the day of; your coziest blankets hang off the arms of your sofa, your fridge is stocked with fresh fruits and your pantry with candy and microwave popcorn and chips (I’ll eat whatever you get :) his answer to your questioning of his favorite movie snacks, of course.)

And then you sit around and wait, excited nerves coaxing your body to straighten things up that have been straightened up a million times already. When Frankie texts you his ETA, you park yourself on the couch by the door and stare at it until there’s a knock on it. 

You may count to ten before you get up to open it, just to hide how eager you’ve been to see him again. 

Your throat does get a little dry when you answer it to find him in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs his arms and light gray joggers that hug… Other things. 

“Hi handsome,” you smile, pushing down all the nerves and the less-than-PG thoughts. 

“Hi. I um… I brought these. I noticed you ordered them on our uh– well, at the restaurant, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed.” 

You watch a flush break out on his face, and his neck, and wonder how far under his collar it actually spreads. 

He’s holding up a six pack of your favorite beers, and he’s smiling so shyly, and you have to crowd in closer to him to press a kiss to his heated cheek. 

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” 

He giggles— giggles, Jesus Christ— and you take them from his hand to let him come through the door. 

You set the beers in your fridge to let them chill as he kicks off his shoes. You watch him from the kitchen as he takes in your place with his pretty brown eyes. 

“It’s really cozy in here,” he tells you as he fiddles with his own hands. 

“Snuggle up, get comfy, I’ll bring us some snacks.”

He nods, so obedient, and hovers by the couch before settling on the seat in the middle. 

Sly move, you think, and you can’t hide your stupid grin as you gather some snacks. 

When you turn off all but one lamp and deposit the junk food on the coffee table, you notice he’s inched himself closer to the arm of the couch, like he was second-guessing himself. That just won’t do, you think, as you settle in right next to him, so close that the length of your body is pressed against his. 

He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the Roku City scrolling across your flat screen. For a second you think he might be uncomfortable, but the way his breathing is uneven clues you in on his nerves. 

You reach over him to grab the blanket in the arm of the couch, and you feel his muscles tense up when you press against him. 

“Frankie?” 

“Huh? Sorry, yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and sighs, heavy and long, before looking at you.

“I’m so nervous.”

He smiles in spite of it, lopsided, dimples so cute that your lips quiver with the urge to kiss them. 

You smile back, and drape the blanket over both of you, patting his leg through it. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, Francisco.”

It gets a laugh out of him, a huff through his nose, and his shoulders lower the tiniest bit. You slowly reach up to cradle his jaw in your palm, careful not to spook this little baby deer of a man, but his face leans into your touch. 

“If it helps, I think it’s really sweet that you’re nervous.” 

“Thank you… I think?”

You laugh at him, and watch as your reaction makes his eyes brighten. You want to kiss him. You want to smooch the absolute daylights out of him, but there’s still 3 hours of a pretentious movie to watch, and there will be plenty of time, if he’s amenable. 

So you just pinch his cheek before you let go, and try not to look so smug at the heat that consumes his face as you get the movie up and running. 

Fifteen or so minutes into the film, Frankie has relaxed into the couch, though he’s stock-still beside you with his arms glued to his own sides. You just want to cuddle, at least. You’ve been thinking about it for weeks— getting his warm, solid but soft body against your own. 

You’re certain he won’t be the one to initiate it, but that’s all fine and dandy. You rearrange yourself a bit, and sling an arm over his shoulders. He looks away from the movie towards you, and you give him a smile that must be comforting. 

He sinks lower on the couch, and leans against you, his messy curls pressed against your shoulder while his arm drapes over your lap. You think you hear his satisfied hum under the dialogue of the characters, and you let your head rest against his. 

This is nice. Frankie’s so warm against you, the most comforting weight all lax against your side. Your hand creeps up from his shoulder to his head, and his hair is so silky when you finally work up the gall to run your fingers through it.

You can feel the way it affects him when he shivers and presses even closer into you. You watch the movie like that for a while, snacks untouched, fingertips stroking his scalp as his soft curls slip through your digits. Every once in a while his head tilts to look up at you, piercing brown, and each time you smile back down and ruffle his hair.

It’s just after the first big conflict of the film when you feel Frankie shift against you. His arm moves in your lap, and you watch his thick fingers grab your thigh over the blanket. 

It shocks you how such a simple gesture makes your temperature rise. You hum and let your nails scratch more firmly against his head. You can hear him gasp, and feel him move impossibly closer, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together. You glance down at him, past the curls you’ve lost yourself in, and his eyes are closed. Further, the curve of his nose and pout of his lips, his chest that’s heaving with his excited breaths, you notice a suspicious tent in the blanket, and you don’t want to assume, but the context clues are all there. 

Frankie is hard. 

You can’t blame him. You’ve been aroused since you pressed his body against yours, a slow simmering underneath the surface that’s made you feel so comfortably warm and relaxed. 

You shift, and you swear you hear a barely-there whine leave his lips. You move just enough so you can press your free hand to his chest. Under your palm, you can feel his heart beating, a pace that’s concerningly higher than appropriate for sitting and watching dialogue in a movie. 

His head turns toward you, his hair slipping through the grasp of your knuckles. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes and his pupils are so dilated that it makes you take a deep breath. He turns his body  toward you next and there it is the hard line of his cock pressed against the outside of your thigh. You see him shudder at the friction, watch his eyes grow droopy as they flicker down to glance at your lips. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

And he asks so sweetly, voice a little hoarse from the silence, that you couldn’t dream of denying him. 

“Yes, Frankie.”

His lips tremble until they meet yours, so soft and chaste, a stark contrast to his scruffy beard and mustache. His breath hitches; you can hear it and feel it. His chest shudders under your palm and pushes air out to gust against your cheeks. You feel his prick, too, twitching against your thigh as your tongue peeks out to tease his pouty bottom lip. 

He pulls back so much quicker than you want him to, but it’s also such a reward to look at him this close. His lips shiny, his cheeks flushed, his irises completely usurped by his pupils. His mouth hangs open and you can’t help yourself as you slide your hand from his chest to his jaw and pull him into you once again. 

A surprised little noise works its way out of his throat, and his hips jerk forward, and then he’s groaning as his cock throbs against the outside of your thigh. The noise makes that feeling in your gut draw deeper, lower, and you make one of your own in response. 

His hand rests dutifully still on your thigh, but you can feel his fingers twitching as your taste buds rub against his– a friction that has no right to be as delicious as it is. You want him to feel you up, to touch you all over, to give in to the desire that’s blatantly pressed against you. You want to hear these noises he seems to be holding back, the whimpers that just barely make it past his vocal chords before he cuts them off. 

You pull away this time. Pride swells in your chest as you look at what you’ve already done to him. His curls are even messier now that you’ve run your fingers through them over and over. His eyes are all glassy when he looks at you, pouty lips slick and red. 

He sits so still, aside from his heaving breaths, like he’s waiting for your command. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie.”

His eyes widen and christ, if they get any wider they’re going to suck you in like a supermassive black hole. 

“I– I’m okay, I like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He nods, trying to convince you, as he not-so-subtly pulls his erection free from its trap between his body and your thigh. His eyes cast downward, but you swiftly grab his chin in your hands to bring them back to you. 

“Francisco,” you mumble, “ask for what you want.”

He gasps and bites his plush bottom lip, hard enough that there’s little indents when he opens his mouth. He shuts it again, and squirms against you, and finally opens it once more. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

His request comes out hardly above a whisper, all broken and breathy, and his gaze settles somewhere behind you. 

“Is that all?”

He nods quickly, eyes snapping back to you. 

“I swear– I just wanna feel your hands on me.” 

Your smile widens as his face gets so serious, eyebrows knitting together. 

“That’s good, that’s really good,” you mumble. 

The shudder that visibly rolls through him is like a shockwave, sending every one of your nerve endings on-edge. You huff, an amazed little breath at this fucking guy in front of you, so responsive and timid and utterly fuckable. 

“You like that? Like being good for me?”

He nods again, more apprehensive this time, but he can’t hold back his whine when his hips press against you. The possibilities of all the things you could do to this man stretch far and wide; it’s entirely overwhelming. 

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, because he is, “c’mere.”

You pull the blanket off of you both, and Frankie reaches down to adjust himself so it isn’t so obvious, like you haven’t felt his cock twitching against you this entire time. It’s so endearing you think you could cry, but you’re much too turned on for sentiment at the moment. Instead, you guide him to straddle you, hands on his slender hips until his thighs cage your own. 

For a moment you just watch as he sits patiently, obediently, waiting for your next words like his cock isn’t leaking a pretty little damp patch into his sweatpants. His chest heaves with every breath, and his tongue licks and bites at his swollen lips, and his eyes stay trained on your mouth in anticipation. 

“So pretty,” you whisper. 

His long eyelashes flutter at your compliment, and he turns his head to try and hide his reaction, but it doesn’t mask the way his prick twitches under gray fabric. Your hands find his waistband and tease the edge and you delight in the way he shivers. 

You need to feel more, so you press your hands under his shirt and hum at what you find. A soft tummy and smooth skin that makes way for a small trail of wiry hairs. It’s all revealed to you a moment later when you hike his shirt higher, reach for pecs that are more solid than you imagined, and the smallest nipples you think you’ve ever had your hands on. 

You look back up to his face for permission with a quirked brow, and he nods eagerly, grabbing the back of his collar to shed the material and bare himself and it’s so lovely. There’s so much tan skin, hardly any of it is obstructed by hair, just the errant freckle here or there. And you can’t help it, you have to lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth. 

He gasps your name, but one of his hands finds the back of your head to keep you in place. You hum around the little nub, so small you have trouble getting your teeth to bite down on it, but you do and then he groans, his hips jerking in your hold on them. 

“Is this how you wanted me to touch you?”

You lean your head back to look him in the eyes, to watch a pained expression flit over his face as he tries to come up with an answer he thinks you’ll like. 

“I like this too,” he nods, “but I, um… fuck–”

He cuts himself off to hide his face in his hands. He is so cute and so sexy at the same time, it’s making your brain go haywire. 

“Tell me, Frankie. Be good for me, Pretty Boy.” 

He shifts on top of you as he looks up at your ceiling. You soothe your hands up and down his flanks and wait patiently for him to find the words. 

He drops his hand from his face, fists clenching down by his sides, but he finally looks down at you and smiles, shy and sweet, just a hint of that dimple you adore rearing its head.

“Touch my cock? You got me so hard.”

You smile bright at his request, and nod, and press a kiss to his sternum. 

“Anything you want,” you mumble, “just gotta ask. Just like that.”

He looks pretty proud of himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as you look up at him, and you take a playful bite of his skin and savor the gasp it coaxes out of him. 

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” 

Your fingers sneak under his waistband and his skin is so hot under there, searing. You only have a few moments to bask in the warmth before he stands up to remove his pants and briefs in one bashful move. 

Jesus. 

He’s so gorgeous, bare for you, vulnerable, excited. His foreskin is all pulled back, revealing a delicious looking string of pre-cum from his slit. You desperately want to lean forward and taste— but he didn’t ask for that, and you won’t give it to him unless he does. 

Stunned a bit silent, you pat your lap, urging him to settle back over it. Much to your delight, he does, quick and obedient. An approving hum bubbles up out of your chest, and he preens as he sits on your thighs. 

There’s a very wicked feeling in you as you stare at him, completely naked, while you haven’t shed a single layer of clothing. Control, and trust, and power. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes your lungs feel too inflated for your rib cage, to know you could take advantage of it, and to know you never ever would. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, finally, testing those waters. 

Frankie’s dick twitches between you two, and you huff and smile and wonder how something so perfect and precious has literally landed right in your lap. 

He’s been more than good, and so with one hand you grab his hip to steady him, and the other takes his cock as gentle as ever. A sharp inhale inflates his chest as you stroke the smooth skin, a teasing, feather-light touch that makes his legs tense up in your lap. You watch him disappear and reappear through the loose circle of your hand, watch another clear droplet bead from his slit when you squeeze him tighter. 

“Does this feel good?”

He’s watching your hand work when you look back up to his face. He nods, a jerky movement that seems to shake his entire body, and he’s so on-edge. You feel it in the way he shifts his weight on top of you. 

“Words, Frankie,” you urge, a soft smile on your face. 

“So good.”

You hum, taking in the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his adam’s apple pokes out when he leans his head back. 

You reward him by speeding up your strokes. You squeeze his hip with your free hand, kneading at the soft flesh there, while you lean forward to press kisses into his virtually hairless chest. His skin is so hot it feels like it could burn you, flushed such a pretty color, just like you knew it would be. 

He whines when you gather up more pre cum with your thumb and gently massage it into his frenulum. You look up to find him staring down at you with glassy eyes, bottom lip tucked tight between his teeth. 

“Can we kiss more?”

His voice is breathy, and you nod, and a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your system when his lips eagerly meet yours. 

It’s sloppier, this time. Noisier, too, as you tighten your grip on his cock and begin to properly work your hand up and down his length. You steal his breath and his noises straight from his lungs, feel every shudder he pushes out when you twist your wrist just right or squeeze tighter. 

His hips start to meet your thrusts, rutting into your hand, such a desperate little thing on top of you, all for you. You want to encourage him to take his pleasure from you, and so you slip your hand back from his waist, find the perfectly pert globe of his ass with your palm. 

“Haa— shit.”

His words muffle into your kiss as his hips stutter in rhythm and you lean forward to smirk into the bald patch of his beard. 

“Yeah?” 

A gasp wrecks through his heaving chest as he nods. 

“Please, fuck— please.”

You hum into his jaw and squeeze his cock and his ass respectively. 

“Please what, Pretty Boy?” 

He leans back. You watch him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head from left to right. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie. Know you can.” 

A big gulp of air, and then he opens his eyes to look at you, then blinks them shut again as his head lolls back in his shoulders. 

“Touch me there. I— I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you take mercy on him, bringing your hand up from his backside to cradle his jaw in your palm. He tilts his head into your touch and opens his eyes.

“I got you, sweet boy,” you remind him. 

He nods in understanding, shifting to kiss the heel of your palm. You let him rest his lips there as he catches his breath, feel them quivering every other upstroke of your hand on his prick. 

But as he makes to move, you hold his jaw steady in your hand. His eyes flicker back to your face, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, if he can tell how beside yourself you really are. 

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, you trace the pad of your middle finger along the seam of his lips. You’re awestruck at how they instantly fall open for you, greedy, something you’re definitely looking forward to exploring more later. 

For now, you watch with hooded eyes as he takes it into his mouth, tongue curling and lapping at it. You briefly wonder if fingers are erogenous zones, beyond turned on at how warm and wet the inside of his mouth feels, how he suckles and releases, bobs his head over and over until you snap out of it. 

“Good boy. Fucking perfect,” you sigh.

He gets a cocky little goofy grin on his face at the praise, but his prick twitches against your grasp. You squeeze it for good measure, and more of his pre-cum dribbles over your knuckles. 

You lean into him again, and he leans into you, holding each other up. Your mouth finds his pebbled nipple once again as his prick drags across your shirt and saturates it. He hisses at the friction, then gasps when your hand grabs his ass cheek again. 

You pull it as best as you can with one hand. It isn’t too difficult with how it fits so perfectly round in your palm. You squeeze it, massage it, note how the littlest hint of peach fuzz feels against your clammy hand. You wonder how it would feel under your tongue, too, how it would taste, how the fatty flesh would feel between your teeth. 

His hips stutter forward when your finger, slick with his saliva, strokes the very top of his crack. And you don’t mean to tease too much, but his jerky movements and satisfied sounds when you do are like music to your ears. 

Finally you find his hole, fluttering around nothing, so little and tight, all for you. 

“Ohmygod.”

Frankie sounds pained, so much so that you look up from nuzzling his chest to watch his face. His brows are drawn tight with how his eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is hung open, slick with a little drool around the corners of his lips. Without context, maybe he would look pained, too, but the way his cock throbs and dribbles in your hand paints a completely different picture. 

And what a pretty picture he is, gulping for air above you, thrusting his hips back into your finger and forward through your fist, like he’s so out of his mind that he can’t even make it up. 

You apply more pressure to his impossibly tight pucker and sink your teeth into his skin at the way he whines for you. You do it again, and again, a patient little rhythm until it relaxes and the very tip of your finger slips into his warmth. 

He groans, clenching tight around you. 

“Okay, Frankie?”

He laughs, a little puff of air, and you feel it where you’re inside him. 

“Gonna make me come,” he chokes.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, don’t— fuck— please don’t stop.”

You hum into his chest, squeeze your hand tighter around his prick as you speed up your strokes. He’s groaning now, deep and low and constant, like he couldn’t hold it back if he tried. 

You wiggle your finger against his rim, tugging him open for you, toying with the elastic muscle. He’s so pliable everywhere, opening up to you, happily taking what you give him. 

In a stiff moment you think he isn’t into it, because he freezes up and goes silent. You make to slip out of him, but his warmth just drags you in.

And then his cock jumps in your grasp, and his hole clamps around your finger as he gasps your name, and he’s coming. 

He shakes with it as he soaks your shirt and drips over your hand. You stroke him through it and marvel at the way he feels in your grasp and around you, violent waves of pleasure that you can sense where you touch him. 

You look up to watch him tremble through it and he’s gorgeous. Sweat drips from his messy curls at his temple and paints a glimmer down his neck, all pulled taught as his head hangs back. His chest tastes salty under your tongue where it heaves, you can’t get enough of the flavor, or the wicked beating of his heart under your lips. 

And his noises, fucking delicious, wrung-out curses that just keep tumbling from his red lips. His stomach trembles with his shaky breaths, and he sounds so wrecked as the last bit of his orgasm tricked down the back of your hand. 

His whispered chants of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” slow to a stop just as his joints unlock and his muscles relax. You take it as a sign to loosen your grip on his spent cock and carefully slip your finger back out of him. It earns you one last whimper before he sags into you, a boneless little heap in your lap. 

You unhand him to hold him against you, wipe your hand on the discarded blanket beside you so you can stroke his back with one hand and his fuzzy little buttcheek with the other. 

You tell him how good he was for you, how pretty he is when he comes, how much you loved getting to do that to him. 

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and his huffs tickle that sensitive spot on your neck just below your ear. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs. 

You nod, because he’s correct. Holy shit, indeed. 

His voice is a little hoarse, and you’re conflicted. You want to hold him as long as he’ll let you, but you know you should get him some water and at least a towel. 

You shift under him and he whimpers, wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders.

There goes that idea. 

You hold him closer, and smirk at the contented sigh that leaves him. 

“I think… I think I just imprinted on you.” 

It startles a laugh out of you, and he chuckles too, a tiny happy sound against your collar bone. You turn to kiss his heated cheek, and he lets you, before he turns his own head to fuse his lips to yours. 

This kiss is lazy, unhurried, and the adrenaline from making him fall apart is slowly making way for more of that sticky-sweet arousal from earlier. 

“I wanna make you come,” he mumbles against your lips. 

You shake your head, but kiss him some more, as to not give him the wrong idea. 

“Another night, Pretty Boy.”

He makes a disappointed sound, but continues to kiss you until you have to part for air. His brow is turned upward in question when you pull away. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his question. 

“Not a single thing, Frankie. Just wanted to take care of you tonight.” 

His shoulders relax at that, but his face is still confused. It’s a cute look on him, with his pouty lips and big brown eyes. 

“You’d tell me right? If I made you uncomfortable? You can tell me. I don’t wanna upset you.” 

And christ, you feel your heart melting and oozing through your rib cage at how earnest his voice is. 

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

That seems to quell his nerves, as he sinks back into you again with his sweaty curls pressed against your shoulder. 

You’re sticky in more ways than one, and Frankie’s only getting heavier in your lap the sleepier he gets, but a giggle bubbles up out of you when you realize you’ve never been more comfortable than you are right now. 

Frankie huffs in response, and you press him even tighter against you. 

You don’t know where one-and-a-half dates and one sickeningly hot orgasm places the two of you. And maybe it’s greedy to think about with a handsome, sweet man in your arms, but you can’t push down the overwhelming feeling of wanting more.

next part

[puckleberryfinnie]

ok so ik my req might seem a bit weird butttttt.. i have been dyingggg for ray. like his body tea, i loveeee his lil accent and smile so i just wanna see like host!reader get nervous when he gets injured, him giving reader his jersey, and a lil post-game smooch 🫶🏾🫶🏾.

girll you don't understand how glad I am that someone else feels this way about him like I feel so wrong about it but?? he's such a cutie?? thank you soso much for sending this in, love this idea <33 so sorry this took so long, life took hold of meee

Beautiful Little Fools

You being a friend of Kai's, and being in several of his streams as an internet personality yourself. Of course, you meet several of his friends, including Ray. He's just using his cheesy "rizz" with Kai's encouragement, and you're laughing on to all his funny tactics.

When the Beta Squad and AMP decide to have the match, there's almost immediately an invitation for you to join in as a host, that you accept gratefully!

The days leading up to the event, you spend a lot of time hanging out with the American group, as well as meeting new people that you become fast friends with.

Ray, however, stays close to either you or Kai at most points, finding himself most comfortable with people he knows pretty well already. Everyone (thought mostly Kai) loves the relationship you two have, and joke around about it a LOT.

You, of course, enjoy his company and help him with training that they have set up for those participating the day before the real match. It's mostly just simple things, though, like returning the balls to him or mock-guarding him.

At some point during the practice, he gets slightly injured, tripping over a ball or something like that. It really isn't that bad, but you find it concerning, especially considering the big match is the following day.

He, however, reassures you, comforting you by patting your head and giving you a brief hug. He doesn't like you being worried about it, so he tried to make sure you understand he's okay.

The next day is obviously intense, and you spend a lot of time making sure Ray is safe, keeping an eye on him throughout the game. You interview him at halftime momentarily, joking around together before he has to go. You also remind him to be safe out there, yelling after him.

He clearly doesn't follow this advice too closely, however, and ends up getting tackled by some larger player (probs Niko lets be so fr) You, of course, feel incredibly scared, watching him from the sidelines all while trying to keep composure as a host.

As he gets guided to the bench to rest, you move yourself over there to talk to him, frantically making sure he's ok. You end up in his arms, him holding you tightly.

After that interaction and him assuring you plenty that he's alright, you go back to doing your job as a host, interviewing other players and such.

Post game, he comes back to see you, striding over to you with intent. It startles you for a moment, when you suddenly see him standing so close to you. He give a short hug followed by a even shorter, nervous kiss.

After a moment of staring at each other, he takes off his jersey, handing it to you with a smile. He doesn't even say anything, just holds it out for you to take.

You end up wearing that jersey on your flight back and on many occasions afterwards. <3

guys I legit don't know why but I really can't tell if I like this style of writing or not. let me know what you think, I'm soso sorry this isn't very good, I truly hope you still enjoy <33

title is a song from great gatsby the musical ofc

anyways, thank you sososo much for being my first ever request, I love you to the moon and back tbh!!

I definitely want to do more of these before school starts to make everything crazy again, so if anyone wants to send something in feel completely free and wanted within my inbox! I'll take requests about pretty much anyone (check out the list of things I love for some reference!!) or I'm for sure here to chat <33

MUAH LOVE YA!!

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

maxander head canons

@ant-thebooknerd requested this in my comment section so here it is. @hathorneheiress helped with this post. some hcs might suck and i apologize if anything doesn’t make sense cause this isn’t proof read. i haven't gotten any real sleep in 3 days so my hcs making brain juice has almost run out. hope you like it! i will make a part two bc i love them and these were so easy and fun to make.

max gets annoyed sometimes cause she loves reading but hates having to hold the book open, and those contraptions you buy online don't work. xander built her smth just for her.

they're the type of people to kiss each other's feet and bow down to each other as a joke

when they can't sleep, they read smut to each other.

when they’re out in public, xander clings onto her arm like a baby.

although they’re in a relationship, they’re both really shy when it comes to telling the other i love you. either that or they make it a competition like who can go the longest without saying i love you accidently.

they're the type of people to always be on call. it doesn't matter if they're sleeping or at the bathroom, they will NOT hang up.

i can see him asking her to prom with those super cliche embarrassing posters with puns and stuff. max squealed like a seal when he did it.

they do those challenges on tiktok where someone puts the karaoke version of a song on and the other has to guess what song is playing (search it up if you don’t know what im talking about).

speaking of singing, they make the weirdest parodies of songs and sing them during their weekly dinners with the rest of the family.

when xander doesn't want to wake up and get out of bed, max shakes her ass in his face and jumps all over him.

they both love lying down sprawled on the floor quietly, staring at the ceiling, questioning their life decisions together.

they love scaring people when they're in his lab and people are passing by saying stuff like 'harder, xander! ah you’re so big. yes that's it right there". they always succeed. 

they love pretending like they're their favorite historical romance couples like elizabeth and darcy from pride and prejudice. they go around acting out all of the scenes and stuff.

whenever their favorite artists release an album, they have a listening party with popcorn, candy, balloons, confetti, etc. its this huge thing and it basically becomes a holiday for them (which obviously doesn't have a set date bc albums are released randomly)

they post those weird cliche cheesy prank videos like "pregnancy prank on my boyfriend"

when they cuddle in bed, max is the big spoon and xander is the little spoon.

they’re both cuddle addicts. they’ll be at a super important event and they’ll be sitting on the floor in each other’s arms whispering things to each other. alisa gets so mad and thinks its bad for their image.

ever since they started dating, xander doesn't use his pillow anymore, he lies down on max's chest bc he think boobs are better than any pillow.

they love watching crime series and trying to figure out who committed the crime themselves.

max loves making paper flower bouquets for xander.

max wanted to learn how to twerk so she got xander to teach her. she's now an expert (even better than xander)

xander loves picking up her hand and bowing down to kiss it like some historical romance boyfriend saying stuff like "why hello there, mlady"

they are constantly sending each other tiktoks. one will wake up the next morning and see that the other one sent them 20 different tiktoks. they send the other their thoughts on each and everyone of them in a numbered list.

max becomes a literal monster when she’s on her period. she’s constantly screaming at xander to get her chocolate and stuff and xander’s running around trying to get it for her. she also asks for the most unreasonable things ever. she’ll ask xander to get her a book blanket or some shit and xander will sit there, terrified, wondering what he’s supposed to do.

max is always bragging about the fact that she can eat more than xander even though he’s much bigger than she is.

max will only swear for real in front of xander. they make a competition out of it: “who can out swear the other” usually sweet cinnamon roll xander wins surprisingly.

they sneak around hawthorne house together to try to get all of the juicy gossip. i can see them acting like they're in a comedy movie hiding behind cleaning carts and stuff.

they call each other stuff like 'my sexy sweet sugar plum dusted with pepper" and "my hot little apple pie sprinkled with glitter"

they draw stuff on each other's arms with sharpies. they're too scared to get actual tattoos so this is the next best thing.

when max has a bad day, she loves lying down completely on top of xander and placing her head in the crook of his neck. it allows her to decompress and relax.

nose kisses are their favorite type of kisses bc it always makes the other blush and scrunch their nose, and they find it adorable.

they have matching shirts that go like "if lost return to max"/"i am max"