#but it's just tiring explaining again and again and again

[rinsnumber1fan]

Accidently calling them daddy and they almost loose it.

Including: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael

Warnings: heavy nsfw, different AU's like: boss! rin

Itoshi Rin:

[Boss! Rin x innocent worker! Reader]

It was dark outside and the birds were long gone from singing their songs. The office was mostly empty too, one of your employees had just left fifteen minutes ago while you rustled with papers and documents on the mac on your office desk. There were papers rustling, the sound of your mouse clicking, and the air conditioners.

After pressing right on your mouse for the nth time you sighed, stopped, and leaned back against the chair which only felt comfortable during lunch breaks. You glanced at the time on your computer. 2:21AM

You reach for your mug of coffee and take another sip. You still had a long way to go to earn that pay you were going to receive at the end of the month. Just one won't hurt, you thought to yourself as you pressed your lips in a thin line whilst pouting, you glanced at the time again, 2:22am... just one episode... you pouted harder as you saved the file you had opened and ctrl + T'd to open a new tab on Google. You quickly put your episode on and your earphones plugged in because you knew the boss worked late night hours too, even on days off, he was scary. You smiled to yourself in self accomplishment as the drama began to play itself.

"Thank you, daddy" the girl smiled sheepishly to the older male.

Daddy? You furrowed your brows in confusion, I thought that was her boyfriend- wait, that is her boyfriend?? So why is she calling him daddy....??

You paused and started murmuring thinking you skipped an episode by accident, "daddy... why daddy why not dad? And that's not even her real dad! Maybe because she looks upto him? And why is he touching her after she said that- wait-- shit someone's coming!" You quickly ctrl + W'd your tab to close the tab opened and immidiently stood up when the boss got out of his office.

Itoshi Rin, the man all the employees would either curse or wail over. "Late night hours aren't recommended." He said, walking up to get his coffee cup refilled meanwhile the coffee machine lied right on your desk with its switch plugged into an extension nearby "There's a greater chance of an error when you're tired. It would be more of a hassle to find every little mistake instead." He advised as he walked up to your desk, you shot him a smile, and you regretted it instantly.

"Thanks, daddy--"

You paused, no, you didn't pause you froze. You didn't even know what it meant. So you thought it couldn't be that bad. But considering your boss's reaction? You felt like you were seconds away from being fired. "Ah- uhh!!! Ummmmmmmm I'm sorry!! I was thinking of something weird and then I kinda just let it slip out!!" You tried explaining.

Rin looked... shocked for the most. But his expression changed slightly, he looked at you differently. His mouth slightly open but he clears his throat. "I didn't expect you of all people to.." you furrowed your brows, it was nervous babbling time, "Uh uhhgh!!! I don't even know what that means! I was just watching a drama on my PHONE I promise it was only for like two minutes because i was tired of the continous writing and all that I'm SORRY but the girl called her boyfriend daddy and then I didn't know why so I just started thinking about it and when I thought about it I accidently let it slip while talking to you!!!"

You babbled All that.

And you took another deep breath "and i-" he grabs your chin, "shut. Up." He grumbles, "I get it. You're sorry, its okay." He said in his usual raspy voice, eyes going lower to your eyes, but way more different than the usual gaze a boss would give. "Well, since you're so curious, some girls call their boyfriends daddy as some sort of "kink" something they get... off on." You blinked twice "off of what?"

He paused.

He sighed, "how about I show you instead?" He leaned closer and closer till your back hit the table behind you. He leaned in closer, hands slowly inching to your face. "Say it again, and I'll teach you." He promised. And you followed. "D-daddy?" The corner of his lips twitched.

You were beyond fucked.

Itoshi sae:

[Friends with benefits AU]

Sae grabs a hold of your hips the moment you stepped into the apartment. He pushes you against rhe wall, "you're late again, why?" He asked in a tone that sounded like he didn't give a shit but his words said otherwise. "What? Jealous that I could be with people other than you?" You grinned, pulling him close by the neck. His eyes, squinting "you're with people other than me?" He asked you, his hands stopped trailing around your body for a moment. You laughed, "im fucking with you." You grinned, placing both hands on his shoulders.

He pushes you down easily, down on the bed. "Don't even start, you always get me crazy when you say bullshit like that." He rolled his eyes, grabbing your jaw as he pushes you down harder making you whine muffedly "mmmhh!!!! Hey!! Not so hard--" but he didn't listen. He ruffles your hair up. "Hey! I took like 10 hours on that-" "don't care."

He begins to undress you, strip by strip admiring every little piece of skin he could see. Sae begins to caress you slowly, massaging your arms and your thighs before sliding it all off. "It's not fair, huh" you pouted, looking up at him fully dressed "you're still dressed" you pull at his buttons with a grin, "Let me help unburden you" and you unbutton his shirt slowly, one by one.

Sae let's you do it, but you're way too slow so he starts taking his belt off all the while you do the other.

"Already? Usually there's a lot of foreplay" you asked teasingly as you massage his abs under his shirt. Sae glances at you, "yeah. but today I'm tired and frustrated and you happen to be right next to me." He said boldly. "I get to take my chance right?" You hear a breath, a small laugh maybe?

Without warning, before you could relax completely after laying back down, sae plunges inside making you scream. Your guts get rearranged. You groaned loudly and it felt like pain before through muffled "ahh I told you to warn me!!" To "haah... your so big.." and turned from painful groans to soft whimpers, he plays with your clit, "here kitty" He murmurs, pressing his lips over your lower stomach, making your heart flutter.

"D-daddy.. its too big--" the realization of what you said hit you a good fifteen seconds later when you saw how sae looked at you. "What." He paused, he grinned slightly, "did you just call me daddy? That's new." "Shut up!" You frowned.

He leaned down, "come on baby" He whispered awfully sweetly. "Do I make you say things like that? Say it again." He'd ask a few times before you finally said it.

"daddy." You breathed out The corner of his lips curled up in satisfaction. "You're not walking tomorrow."

Michael Kaiser:

[Bully!Kaiser x introverted!reader college AU]

Kaiser was on his usual tendencies today, along with his fat group of friends. Laughing like hyenas in the back of the class where you enjoyed sitting once, but now? Now it was hell. And you couldn't focus on what the teacher was talking about. Something about Descrates.. or whoever that is. You couldn't hear well thanks to his group and you didn't want to bother yourself to tell them to shut up either because really? You were just scared of the bullying going farther from just condescending words.

You heard some questionable things.

"Yo, teach' was so bad I would've risked my GPA" you couldve sworn you heard. "Ewww what the fuck, Dilan? That thing rides a wheelchair and you expect her to ride you? Dumbahh"

What the actual fuck.

Kaiser was the hotshot of their group. If he laughed, everyone was given permission to laugh, if he was chill with someone the others would be too, if he bullied someone, they'd bully them too. For example, you.

It was one of those days again when you were in the gym with the rest of the class. They ran for the ball, beat eachother up and the teacher didn't even blink. Ref do something. Kaiser sighed, and you didn't realize he wss there untill he did so. You turned your head to your left to see him sitting there with a towel dropped around his shoulders and a waterbottle in his hands. "Obviously you're not playing" Kaiser grinned slightly, looking up at you who tried to stay hidden in the corner. "You aren't athletic enough to" he said, placing his waterbotttle over his mouth and drinking through.

You didn't even want to make him stop anymore just wanted him to leave.

"Right" you scooted away slowly and he definitely noticed. He got off his seat from the bench and up towards you, walking closer and closer and for some reason he's not stopping. So you takes a small step back.

I need to get this man away from me.

"You should really shape up or you'll end up like Samantha" he said, placing a hand on his waist, tilting his head as he glanced at your frame, then back at the chubby girl who you actually looked upto because of how strong she was, mentally and physically. "I like Samantha." You said to him without really thinking about it. He cackles up, "why didn't I expect that?"

He was getting close, closer, his hand lifted in the air for a moment and your heart stopped for a moment. His hand flew forwards, towards you, your shoulder or maybe even boob if he's that bold. Gasp.

You remembered the advice given to you by your "friend"!!

"Men love being called daddy. Especially like my fiancé so you any guy, you want them to listen to you? Just call em daddy and he'll melt." Her drunk words.

But hes not even my dad!!!

But he got closer and closer and you really didn't want to touch him or him to touch you. It was all in slow motion.

So it slipped out.

You swiftly moved away, "U-UH! I'm sorry but please don't touch me!!!" You said quickly and nervously. Kaiser blinked. "I wasn't going to-" he glances at the leaf stuck in your hair that you had no idea about. "d-daddy!"

He blinks, once, twice. "What...the fuck?" His cheeks are oddly pink. Does it work?! Uhghh...

"Uh.. what?" You stumbled with your hands. Kaiser blinked, "did you just call me daddy? Didn't know you were into that thing?" But he's getting closer. "Into- into what thing??" You stepped back and you're against the wall with him infront of you, "p-please daddy?" You looked up at him and bay your eyelashes.

Kaisers mouth grows dry.

He gulps, "dont." He stopped though, in his tracks, "dont say things like that." He said, unable to keep his hands to himself, he leaned closer, placing his hands on your cheek.

"I thought that was gonna make you stop--" He grabs a hold of your jaw. "It's going to make me want to get even closer to you, y/n." He said, like it was the most obvious thing ever. He leaned close for a moment before restraining himself, "you don't even know what that means." He smirked slightly, pulling back.

It worked...?

"Uh well someone told me it's to get guys to listen to you" He heard that and laughed. "I don't think she told you that you can call only one guy that. And I guess you chose me." He grinned, placing a hand on his hip. But really, he's just trying to stop himself from pouncing on you there and then.

A/n: leave ac omment plssplspslsplsoslslslsls I love u allllaalllllllll

[headspace-hotel]

any other autistic people have to drop out of college and have stories to share about what they did/how they managed to find a job and a bearable life?

I'm considering it again and there's a good chance I'm actually gonna do it

I'm only a year away from graduation, but...I've been having this deep sense that "this is wrong, I'm on the wrong path" for a while. I've never been able to convince myself that I should stay because it's what I want, only push down the feeling and try to convince myself I have no choice.

Despite many good things that happened, 2024 was almost definitely the worst year of my life (which is saying something, considering how 2021 went for me) just in terms of how much of it I spent utterly miserable.

I'm about to turn 25. I am so sick of being around 19 and 20 year olds, not that there's anything wrong with them, I'm just starting to struggle to connect with people who haven't been around the block a little bit and lived outside of the regimented, narrow constraints of school.

My school situation is difficult to explain but it's unlikely I will ever be given a better chance to graduate without debt. However, my school has proven completely rigid and inflexible in regards to several crucial disability accommodations, and I have fought so incredibly hard to make this situation work for me and it just isn't and every time I think it's finally going to be okay there is some other bullshit that happens and I am tired of running myself ragged fighting to survive in a place I don't want to be.

Not only do I not want to spend another year feeling like my life is a black hole of despair, I don't want to wait any longer to get my driver's license and figure myself out and learn who I am and form meaningful relationships and escape the narrow little crevice my college life is. I am so exhausted all the time when I'm in school that I can't work on myself, and I feel stunted. I feel like a plant in a too-small pot where its roots are all bunched up along the edges.

I was hopeful about getting some kind of career related to studying plants or working with plants or something, but right now my only career goal is for the pain to stop.

Family says they will support me no matter what I do, but seem to lack faith in me to take steps toward independence or something I want to accomplish. My mom just seems to live in fear that I will go back to how I was in the Burnout Year where I just laid in bed for months, as if this is all I'm capable of without the external structure of college. It leaves me doubting myself and whether I've actually grown any.

Family also seems to think that I'm naive to how hard a job would be, to which my honest answer is Jesus if this is the easiest my life is going to be I am just not going to make it. Parents keep saying college is hard, it was hard for me too but I think I just completely fail to communicate how much they don't get it. It's not that my classes are hard, it's not that the work takes effort. If anything it's not enough work, not enough stimulation. It's just...the stressors. The exhaustion of having to go to class every day for hours and participate in group projects and presentations and having to go to different meetings and appointments. Not having any control over anything in my life. Not knowing whether I'll have good food to eat every day, not knowing if the kitchen will be free for me to boil a pot of goddamn noodles, not knowing if my energy budget is free enough that I can hang out with a friend or make a dentist appointment without fucking up and contributing to an ongoing backlog of exhaustion that nothing, nothing, nothing but time ever can fix. The hyper-vigilance I have to maintain to avoid locking myself out of my own room.

I'm just...not 20 anymore. I can hardly stomach Ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese anymore. I feel gross and nasty when I don't eat green things and fresh things and things with fiber in them. I get too exhausted to stay awake by 12:30 and wake up at 8:30am whether I set my alarm or not. I can't skip meals anymore, I can't just roll out of bed, stuff down a granola bar and function until lunch anymore.

I don't know what's right. I just know that what I'm doing right now is wrong. If I ignore this, I might as well never listen to a "gut feeling" ever again because I've never had one so strong or so persistent.

[millers-angel]

jealous!joel miller who takes you to his job site because you kept asking, over and over again, with those big curious eyes that made it so damn hard for him to say no.

always so interested, always wanting to know more—about the machines he worked with, the loud noise, the dust, the smell of sweat and sawdust that he carried on his clothes when he came home.

you’d begged so sweetly, that you wanted to see where did he work, that you wanted him to teach you everything... and he couldn't resist. not to you. and god, how could he not give in to that? no one had ever cared like that. not about his work. not about him.

so he brought you.

and you walked around with that same bright look in your eyes, asking questions, tilting your head as you watched the machines move, not having the slightest idea of how good you looked doing it. how your dress clung to your thighs, how it lifted just a little when you leaned down to touch something, how the sun hit your skin just right and made every man on site stop and stare.

joel saw it. all of it.

and he hated it.

he stayed close—hand on your back, arm around your waist, lips brushing your ear when he had to explain something. he didn’t let you out of his reach, didn’t let their eyes go unanswered. every time one of them looked at you for too long, he touched you a little more deliberately. a possessive grip on your hip, a slow kiss to your cheek that made you giggle, a low voice in your ear just to make sure they knew.

you, sweet and clueless, kept smiling, kept asking questions like nothing was happening.

but joel knew. and so did they.

you were his.

you were completely amused.

you hadn’t expected a construction site to feel this... alive. the machines roared, the metal clanked, and dust swirled in the air, catching the sunlight just right. it smelled like earth and wood and sweat, and somehow, all of it fascinated you. joel’s world. the one you’d only heard about in tired conversations when he got home.

and now, you were in it.

you asked a hundred questions, eyes shining, touching things gently like they’d break. joel answered most with a quiet grunt or a word or two, but he never stopped touching you—guiding you by the waist, brushing your hair back from your face, pressing warm fingers to the small of your back.

eventually, he led you toward a row of trailers lined up near the edge of the site.

“this is my office,” he muttered, thumb rubbing circles into your hip as he opened the door.

you stepped up, just as the wind blew.

your dress fluttered, lifting enough to make him tense behind you. his hand came down fast, firm, shielding you as he cursed low under his breath. the door slammed shut behind you, and the click of the lock followed. fast. final.

you looked around, eyes wide again.

it was messy, sure—papers scattered, tools tossed on the small table, a few dishes stacked in a corner. but it smelled like him. warm. sweaty. and there were signs of you here too. the little lunch containers you always packed for him. a folded napkin with your handwriting. a tiny bottle of that soap you said he should use because it 'smelled like lavender.'

you smiled, quietly, and started picking things up.

joel frowned. “what’re you doin’, sweetheart?”

“just wanna tidy your space a little,” you said, already stacking papers, rearranging a bit.

he sighed, shook his head, and crossed the small room in two steps.

his hands landed on your waist again, rough and sure. “leave it,” he said softly. “wanna show you something.”

you nodded, and he led you to his desk.

he sat down, leaned back, and patted his thigh.

you didn’t hesitate—just smiled and climbed into his lap, settling sideways, arm draped around his shoulders. he opened a folder, pulling out pictures, sketches, and blueprints. talked about past builds, materials, mistakes they’d learned from.

but your eyes caught on a photo.

it was him—joel in a dusty tee, sleeves pushed up, arms flexed as he carried a heavy beam. sweat darkened the fabric, jaw clenched, eyes focused. pure strength in motion.

“you look so... strong,” you murmured, hand brushing over the edge of the picture.

joel chuckled low in his chest, but before he could say anything, you turned to him, eyes soft, lips warm, and kissed him—just a little thing. small. sweet.

but it made him freeze for a second.

because you looked at him like he hung the damn moon.

joel chuckled low in his chest, but before he could say anything, your eyes shifted—something else catching your attention. right there, beside the monitor, there was a frame of you. one he must’ve printed without telling you. you were smiling, soft and sunlit, in one of your favorite dresses.

your heart swelled.

“i like that you keep your girl on your desk,” you said, teasing a little as your fingers brushed the edge of the frame. “so everyone knows you’re taken.”

joel let out a low laugh, hand rubbing up and down your thigh. “ain’t like any of the crew’s tried to flirt with me, darlin’.”

you shrugged, smile coy. “still. you’re mine.”

you leaned in, gave him another kiss—longer this time. slower.

his hand paused on your leg, fingers pressing in just a little.

when you pulled back, you noticed the way his jaw had gone tight, how his eyes had narrowed slightly as he watched you like he was trying to figure something out.

“they’ve seen you,” he muttered, voice rough now. low. “not me.”

you laughed softly. “that’s not true.”

he didn’t laugh with you.

instead, both of his hands moved to your hips, gripping firm, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his and your dress rode up just a little more across your thighs, barely showing your panty. his eyes searched yours, voice dropping even lower.

“you’re really that sweet, huh?” he asked. “don’t even notice what you do to people?”

your lips parted, surprised by the heat in his tone, the way his thumbs stroked slow over your hipbones like he was trying not to lose control.

“mhm?” he pressed, tilting his head. “don’t notice how they look at you out there? don’t know what you do to me sittin’ in my lap like this?”

you felt your breath catch. his grip, his voice, the air between you—thick now with something warm, lustful.

but still, you smiled. “just wanted to see the machines,” you whispered.

joel groaned under his breath, and pulled you closer. "yeah?" you nodded.

he lifted your dress, now fully to your waist, letting him see what you were hiding from him. letting him see what he owned. he spreaded your legs just enough to see a damp spot in your crotch.

"oh, poor thing," he growled.

"i couldn't help it, joel, i—i promised that i would but—"

his hand came closer to your panty, moving it aside to touch the slick flesh of your pussy. his fingertips trailed all the way to your clit, slowly, torturing you.

you hissed once he started drwing cirles on your nib, all swollen, glistening with your own fluids. "so sweet you don’t even realize all these men outside were lookin’ at you like they’d eat you alive if i let ‘em.”

you felt something growing pushing your thigh. "you're all mine." he rasped against your ear, making all your body shiver.

"yours,"

"what do i have to do for all those men to understand you're mine, hm? should we go out and fuck in front of them?"

you licked your lips, as if thinking about it.

"should i leave you leaking cum and walk out like nothing happened? should i get you pregnant right now? hm?" his lips found their way to your collar as his fingers found its way inside your cunt.

and that's when he lost it.

he did exactly what he said.

you left the trailer walking out with slick flesh with cum. messy hair, smudged make up and probably now, pregnant too.

🔨⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡🐇

[whimsiwitchy]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (part three)

Pedro Pascal x singer!reader

series masterlist & series playlist

summary: you're a hot singer that has hot older men falling at her feet. pedro becomes one of them. (literally my cyg hughxreader fic but for pedro)

warnings: age gap (23/49), use of y/n, swearing, sexual themes, afab reader, she/her pronouns, verbal fighting, pedro is a smoker, cheating, Hugh Jackman is your ex (oops), he also pops up a few times and is mentioned, grammar is fake to me srry <3

hugh is in this chapter

warnings may change as the story progresses. all descriptions of real people in this story are fake! I don't know these people and this all for funsies. let me know if I missed anything!

author's note: okay y'all this is kinda buns ngl LMAOO ummm. I rewrote the entire part with Hugh and on like 20 different times and it still didn't turn out how I wanted buttt I was tired of pushing back the release date so here you go. there's a lot of dialogue and I struggle with details between dialogue so sorry in advance. anyways..I hope y'all enjoy this but I understand if you don't AHAHA <333

oh also the end isn't really proofread...oops

part three: cigarettes and coffee

The last few days in London were a drag. Your time was spent in meetings, interviews, and Stacy dragging you to every tourist attraction in town. It was all rather mundane- every meeting full of presentations that could have been an email and every interviewer asked the same questions you’ve already answered a million times. Even being a tourist wasn’t fun anymore, too many people crowing the popular areas. You were being grumpy but you were tired and unbelievably home sick. Being a natural homebody, it was hard to travel for long periods of time for work. You were byong grateful for the life you’re living but it didn’t align with your hermit personality. Usually after a big trip, such as this one, you got to go home and rot in bed for a few weeks before venturing out again, but your career had other plans this time around. Instead of going back to Los Angeles, you’d be heading straight to New York. 

The call with the offer came the night before your flight back home. After muting the phone to jump and scream with Stacy, you accepted the invitation to perform on Saturday Night Live the fiftieth anniversary special. 

Everything was very last minute considering you were filling in for someone who dropped out earlier in the day. Sleep wasn’t a priority as Stacy canceled the flight to L.A and searched for the next flight to New York. You, on the other hand, were thrown into a zoom meeting with your management team as everyone tried to figure out how to throw everything together by tomorrow morning. Your lawyer breezed through the contract, confirming that it was okay to sign and once it was, you were being hounded with a million and one questions. The main issue was figuring out what song you were going to sing. 

“I’m just not sure I can handle it vocally right now. With my next performance being a few weeks away, I haven't really taken care of my voice since being on live lounge.” You explained. Your team was set on having you sing ‘Late Nights and Heartbreak’ after how well it did after your performance of it was uploaded just yesterday. 

“Y/n, we understand what you’re saying but this is your first SNL performance and it’s not just a normal SNL appearance. This will be the most viewed SNL episode ever. You need to ‘wow’ the audience with something new since you’re releasing new music soon. We need to hook them, they need to want to hear more, especially since there was such a big shift in your sound since your debut album. If you happen to have any vocal issues, we’ll blame it on emotion.” Carol says. She’s usually who you speak to when talking to your team but you were never really fond of her. She cared a lot more about her job than she did you. You couldn’t blame her for that but it was obvious in moments like this. “Everyone already knows about your breakup so we can always send you on a talk show, radio show, hell even a podcast if we have to. You can give all the details about your time with Hugh and why the song is hard to sing for you…blah blah blah… everyone forgets you did bad. Problem solved, you’re singing the song. Now we need to figure out how we’re getting the band to New York on such short notic-...” 

You blanked out for the rest of the meeting, everything being discussed wasn’t anything that involved you. The camera was turned off, mic muted as you fought against drifting to sleep. You were on the brink of losing the battle when your name being said caught your attention. 

“Oh and before I forget. Y/n they want you to be in a sketch as well.” You immediately unmute yourself to protest. 

“Absolutely not. I’m a singer, not an actress.” Carol rolls her eyes, not trying to hide her annoyance anymore. Everyone was tired and over it. 

“You don’t really have a say. You’re doing it.”

What a bitch. 

—

After almost eight hours on a plane, you were a lot more cheerful to be in New York than you had been last night. The numbing in your butt from sitting so long was finally starting to go away as you stepped out of the car and headed inside of the studio. The ride over was a quiet one. Stacy, your usual companion for work things, was at the hotel. You begged her to stay back and get some rest, assuring her that you’d be okay without her today. You were sure she wouldn’t have to do much ‘assisting’ today given the schedule. 

“Hi. Y/n Y/l/n for SNL50 rehearsal.” You recite politely to the receptionist. She smiles and hands you a guest pass with your name in all caps. She gives a short description of how to navigate the confusing hallways before you make your way towards the room number you were given. Once you open the door, you beeline towards an empty corner in the back, avoiding all of the people that were already in the room, talking quietly to each other. 

“Y/n! Oh my god! I’m so happy you’re here!” Sabrina comes running over towards you, engulfing you into a big hug. You wrap your arms around her just as tight. 

“Oh my god! Sab, hi! How have you been? It’s been like for fucking ever.” You say as you both release each other. 

“I’ve been so good. Just touring, being a popstar and everything. How have you been? I heard the new song, dude it’s so fucking good. You killed that shit.” She’s beaming up at you with a big smile on her face. Her contagious energy sunk into you, feeling immediately more awake. It was also nice knowing you actually knew somebody here and wouldn’t be in a room of strangers. 

“Thank you so much! I was honestly kinda scared to put that song out but I'm glad everyone is liking it so far.”  You smile back at her. “But I’ve been really good. I’m dead tired though. I like just got back from London this mor-” Your eyes wander over to the door as someone else walks in. “-There’s no fucking way.” The smile Sabrina was sporting drops in confusion. “Why is he here?” She looks to who you’re talking about. “Not that it’s a bad thing but like…why is he here?” Your once chipper voice, now lower and sharp. 

“Who? Pedro?” She points with her thumb and you nod. “He’s in the sketch with us. Did you not know? Is it a problem that he’s here?” She asks with a concerned filled voice. 

“No. Oh my god no. I just…uh…I just didn’t know he was gonna be here. Everything happened so fast and it slipped my mind to even look at the lineup…” You’re trying to be chill but you’ve become super aware of your old sweatpants and just how different your attire is from when he saw you in the restaurant. You keep glancing over at him, hoping he doesn’t see you right away. He’s talking to a group of the male cast members, his laugh echoing off of the walls of the empty room. 

“Dude, is there something I’m missing or…?” She drags on the ‘or’ while glancing between you and Pedro. You sigh and fill her in on everything that’s happened recently. Her bright smile returns to her face as she listens. You tell her about running into him twice in London, along with the whole dress incident. 

“Stacy thinks he likes me but I don't know. I feel like he’s just being nice. I mean, I barely know the guy, ya know?” You finish and she squeals loudly. It catches the attention of the group of guys and you make eye contact with Pedro. You look up for a moment and try to look away but his eyes catch yours. You know you look like a deer caught in headlights but he politely smiles and waves anyways. You do the same. 

“Bitch, he so likes you.” Sabrina says as she observes the small interaction. “You like him back, huh?” You stay quiet for a moment. 

“I’d like to get to know him better but uh…yea he’s pretty hot.” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to keep the conversation private. A nervous tone takes over as you admit your thoughts out loud. 

“Hell yea he is! This is perfect. I will be playing cupid today. You can thank me later.” She gives your arm a quick squeeze. “Ohhhh Pedroooo!” She turns and yells towards the group of boys. 

“Sab, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask in a hushed voice. She turns her head back to you for a moment and widens her eyes, a warning to act natural. He turns his head in your direction and excuses himself from the guys. You were too fucking tired for this. 

“Good morning ladies.” He says as he walks up to the two of you. 

“Hi. I’m Sabrina. It’s nice to meet you, big fan of your work.” She says and offers a hand out towards Pedro. He takes it and introduces himself. “I would introduce my friend here but she let me know the two of you are already acquainted.” He smiles down at you. 

“Indeed we are. Long time no see stranger.” He chuckles a bit at his own joke. “How long has it been? Like what…four days?” He thinks before asking. 

“Yea something like that…Hi Pedro.” You say shyly. You felt silly for feeling awkward around him but it was hard not to be when you’ve had two people tell you that they think he likes you. 

“Oh…You need me over there?” Sabrina suddenly yells towards the other side of the room. “Oh okay.” She turns to look at you and Pedro. “Sorry guys, duty calls…” She walks away and as she does, she turns to give you two thumbs up and a wink behind Pedro’s back. You watched her walk away and tried your best not to roll your eyes at how obvious she was being. 

“So…How was the rest of your time in London?” Pedro asks, ending the brief silence. 

“It was good. It was my first time in the city so I spent all my off time exploring with Stacy. We actually just got back this morning.” You explain and he nods with a smile. 

“You’re all anyone can talk about right now, picking up this work week super last minute. Pretty badass if I do say so myself. The hero of SNL50.” He’s smiling while lazily throwing his arms up in a ‘hurray’ celebration. 

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero. This is definitely more beneficial for me than it is for SNL.” You shrug slightly and there’s a slight pause. More people enter the room, louder conversations pop up in the small groups that have slowly formed. “Um..How was London for you?” You ask, genuinely curious about what he was up to. 

“It was really good. Filming mostly for Fantastic Four and filling in any gaps with interviews. You know how it is.” He shrugs, smiling still sitting softly on his lips. 

“Ugh. I don’t ever want to hear the word ‘interview’ again.” You groan and let your head hang back slightly. “I think I did more interviews in London than I’ve done in my entire music career.” 

“Tell me about it!” Pedro agrees, his eyes widening. “I swear the moment you step into another country, you’re doing interviews left and right. Everyone wants to get their hands on you before you go back to America.” 

“Ya’ know…suddenly doing a world tour for my next album doesn’t sound that exciting.” Your hand comes up to rub your chin in ‘thought’. It makes Pedro laugh and the sound makes your stomach flutter. 

“Can we have everyone group up so we can start? Please and thank you!” Someone you don’t recognize shouts over the talking in the room. Pedro looks down to you before speaking. 

“We’ll talk after yea?” Pedro asks. 

“Yea, sounds good.” You nod with an awkward thumbs up. He walks back over to the guys and you want to smack your head against the wall for the butterflies you felt squirming around in your stomach. Just talking to him for a few minutes had ruined you. You had no idea how you were going to get through the rest of the week. 

“How’d it go?” Sabrina whispers to you as someone begins introducing the skit to the room. 

“I’m actually going to kill you.” You whisper-yell towards her, earning a small laugh. “Oh, real smooth by the way. I’m sure he totally heard the person that so desperately needed you five feet away.” You deadpan at her and she waves you off, opting to listen to the person speaking. 

—

It was starting to get hot in the small room. The sketch included more people than you expected but the energy in the room was electrifying. You couldn’t stop laughing, constantly covering your mouth and trying you hardest not to snort. There was a long table taking up most of the back wall and the rest of the room was used as the ‘dance floor’. You quickly learned that the sketch was a spinoff of the popular ‘Domingo’ skit. You and Sabrina were playing twin sisters, the joke being that the two of you don’t look alike at all. It was added when the cast heard you were coming in as a replacement and your part was mostly for fun while Sabrina was there because the skit used her song ‘Espresso’. Even if it didn’t make sense for you to be included, you were having the time of your life. Soft giggles were coming from where Sabrina and yourself were standing. You were trying to go over the lines as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the cast that was already learning the blocking and choreography for their parts. As each of you took turns softly singing off key, it became harder to contain. 

“You guys sound really great over there. You two should become professional singers or something.” Pedro whispers jokingly. He’s been standing close by, also looking at his lines on the papers that were handed out earlier. Sabrina looked at you and you both busted out laughing, earning a few curious looks from the rest of the room. 

After that small outburst, you both tried harder at staying quiet. Luckily, you only had to try for a few more minutes before the both of you were called up to join. The process of everything reminded you a lot of touring, making it easy to catch on quickly. You only had to run your section a few times before Pedro was being called up to join. You briefly read over his part in the script but stopped yourself when you saw ‘girls start dancing on Ronaldo’ written. 

“Okay, so Pedro, you’re gonna enter when Kelsey asks Matt who Ronaldo is. We’re gonna have you stand in between the girls and they’re gonna dance on you as you sing your part. Sound good?” The crew member asks and Pedro nods. You and Sabrina both take a step to the side to make room for him and he awkwardly makes his way there. They give him a few more directions before they have you all run that section together. 

“That was great. We just need more energy from you all when it comes to the dancing portion.” The choreographer says while writing something down in a notebook. 

“We might have to really grind on you Pedro. I’m sure you won’t mind?” Sabrina asks, side eyeing you with a smirk.

“Do whatever you girls need to do.” He says, giving you a smile that causes the outer corner of his eyes to crinkle. 

—

There’s only one more rehearsal and it happens Saturday morning when the entire cast runs through the full show before the actual airing. Everything went smooth, each skit a little less enthusiastic as they should be, each person saving their energy for tonight. You sang a very rough version of ‘Late Nights and Heartbreak’, to sound check with the band before heading back to the small dressing room where Stacy was waiting for you.

“So, how does it feel getting to grind on Pedro one last time tonight?” She asks, mouth full of food. 

“I’m not really grinding on him, more like his hip, but I’m very sad that my ass will never touch his body again.” You pout and wipe a fake tear from your eye. 

“Never say never.” Stacy says, tilting her head in a suggestive manner. 

“Okay Justin Bieber.” You take a bite out of your sandwich. 

“I think he was tryna cop a look earlier when y’all were rehearsing.” She wiggles her eyebrows causing you to blush. 

“He was not! You gotta stop feeding into my delusion. I get nervous around him when I think about it too much.” You sigh. You luckily didn’t see Pedro during the rest of the week. It’s not like you didn’t want to see him because you definitely did but after rehearsals on Monday, you spiraled. It’s like your phone heard you talking about him and decided to place an edit of him on your tiktok for you page. After watching that one edit, more flooded in…and if you created a collection of them…nobody has to know. 

“Nervous about what?” Pedro’s voice asks behind you and you jump up, straightening your previous shrimp-like posture. 

“Umm…nothing.” You panic as Stacy stifles a laugh. 

“Sorry if I’m intruding. We never got to talk again after rehearsals the other day and the door was open…” He trails off, leaning his shoulder into the door. Your neck was hurting from staring back at him but you were stunned. His outfit was simple, cozy. A pair of black lounge shorts that sat just above his knees, with a worn graphic tee that fit him loosely. His socks sat a few inches above his ankle where his feet sported an old pair of tennis shoes. You could see the definition in his right thigh, his shorts pulling up slightly from the way his leg was bent to support his leaning body. He looked really, really fucking good. 

“You actually have perfect timing! I need to handle some business stuff for this diva.” Stacy jokes as she points to you. It earns a small chuckle from Pedto. “Keep her company while I’m gone?” Stacy asks and it brings you back to reality. 

“Will do.” Pedro salutes, standing up straight. Stacy gets up, sandwich in hand as she walks past Pedro and through the door. You turn your head forward, relieving the tension in your neck as Pedro sits in the seat that was previously occupied by Stacy. You don’t speak first, you can’t. The guilt of the endless edits you watched late at night were eating away at you as the man you’ve been thirsting over sat right in front of you. You were so fucked. 

“I didn’t get to tell you but you’ve been doing great in the sketch by the way. You should consider acting.” You look at his face fully for the first time, his glasses perched on top of his nose. 

“You’re being too nice. The only thing getting me through it is having Sabrina there, I’d be a terrible actress.” You emphasize the ‘terrible’ as you pick at the bread of your sub. 

“Let’s agree to disagree.” He says, leaning back into the chair more. His movement makes you aware of just how close you are. “You really are doing great though. I might have sat through your sound check earlier…You sound just as good as you did back in London.” He continues on and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re very talented.” You suck at taking compliments and don’t know what else to say other than that. 

“You’ve got to stop complimenting me. My head is already too big for my own good.” You joke. 

“Hard not to compliment genuine talent.” He offers, pushing his glasses back up from where they fell just a little too far down. 

“Okay well anyways…I suck at taking compliments so we’re moving on.” You blurt out. He laughs with a big smile. You scrunch your face to prevent your own smile from slipping out. “Oh..I overheard a few people earlier saying something about a mullet?” You ask, moving the embarrassment from yourself to him. 

“Yea..Had a fitting for everything the other day. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a pretty confident man…but I’m not sure if the mullet is for me.” One of his hands reaches up to tug at the loose curl that hangs perfectly from his hair. 

“I’m sure you look great. Kinda hard for a haircut to mess up a pretty face.” You shrug while finally taking another bite of your sandwich. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks with a smirk. You stop chewing for a moment as you realize what you just said. Your mouth always works faster than your brain in the worst moments. You swallow before answering. 

“I mean…you’re not ugly. Can’t a girl appreciate a handsome guy without being questioned about it?” You try your best to be nonchalant and you’re hoping it came off that way. You think it does because he just hums in response, a pause before he speaks again. 

“Are you going to the after party tonight?” The smirk is gone and replaced with that soft smile that seems to always be sitting on his face. 

“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. Parties aren’t really my thing to be honest.” You answer. 

“Well I for one, definitely would like to see you there and I’m sure everyone else would too.” His voice is sincere. 

“Hm..I guess since the Pedro Pascal wants me there, I have to show up.” 

“So you’ll be there?” He asks, his voice hopeful. 

“I’ll think about it, pretty boy.” He smiles. 

–

The show was moving quicker than you thought it would. You already performed your song and to your luck, you wouldn’t have to air out your dating struggles to the world on some dumb ass podcast. The energy in the room was weird. Everyone was excited to be celebrating the fifty years of history but there was still a somber feeling in the air as the room thought back onto their most treasured memories. You used that feeling to sing rather than the breakup, creating the emotion you needed without using your personal fervor. Once you stepped off stage, you rushed back into your dressing room to get changed for the espresso skit. The costume was simple, a satin bridesmaid style dress with a pair of tan heels with your hair being left down. After you were all set for the sketch, you made your way over to Sabrina’s dressing room, announcing yourself with a soft knock. 

“You ready to grind your ass on Pedro one last time?” Sabrina asks when she sees you, her usual bright smile on her face. There’s a crew member from the hair department adding a few more bobby pins to her hair. 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You sigh, slumping on the door frame. 

“If I were you, I’d take advantage of this moment…really get in there. Show him what he’s missing.” She does a few thrust while trying not to move her head too much. 

“I basically called him hot earlier.” You admit and Sabrina snaps her head in your direction in shock. 

“Bitch what!?!?” She yells. The hair stylist gasps at the sudden movement and noise before going back to fix the hair that fell. Sabrina apologizes and looks at you through the mirror. “Tell me everything.” 

You tell her everything. How Pedro came to your dressing room because he didn’t catch you after rehearsals like he said he would. How he looked better than a man ever has before. How he kept complimenting you and how you said that the stupid mullet couldn’t be that bad because of his stupid, handsome face. How he said he wanted you at the after party. How you called him pretty a second time before Stacy came back and he left, but not before wishing you luck for tonight and squeezing your shoulder. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me very closely.” She’s turned towards you now, the hair stylist having left half way through your rambling. “That man likes you and you need to grind on him tonight.” You had been paying attention to her, taking her seriously until she said the last part. 

“Sab, I’m not grinding on him. Oh my fucking god…that’s like borderline sexual assault.” You throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“It’s not! Pedro literally said to do whatever we needed to do and you need to grind on him.” She laughs and you scoff. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” She reveals. “...Partially joking.” You punch her lightly in the arm. 

“So you are going to the party right?” She asks with her eyebrows raised. 

“I mean, I feel like I have to. When a hot guy tells you he wants you somewhere, you go.” You say. “But, if he doesn’t talk to me at all, you and Stacy are going to have to carry me out of there because I will be too embarrassed to move.” 

“Oh he will talk to you. I’ll make sure it happens.” She gives an evil laugh while tapping her fingers together in a way that only a cartoon villain would. 

Over the speaker system, they announce places for the ‘vowel renewal’ sketch and the two of you make your way towards the stage that was setup for the performance. On the short walk, Pedro ends up joining the small posse and Sabrina immediately through you into yet another uncomfortable situation. 

“Oh my god! I’m digging the little chin hair you’ve got going on.” She says, pointing out the small patch of hair they added to his Ronaldo costume. “Doesn’t he look so hot Y/n?” You slowly turn your head towards her before agreeing. “Very hot.” You say while trying your best to walk straight while giving Sabrina a ‘I’m gonna kill you’ look. Thankfully Pedro laughs it off and the conversation ends there, the rest of the walk filled with the light tapping of heels on the tile. 

The sketch is over in the blink of an eye, one moment you’re out there and the next you’re right back in the dressing room. You didn’t take Sabrina’s terrible advice of grinding on Pedro to show him ‘what he was missing’, rather sticking to exactly what you did in rehearsal. So when your butt happened to move down the fly of Pedro’s pants instead of his thigh, it’s not your fault. 

—

You spent the rest of the show in the audience with Stacy until the very end when everyone that was a part of the show went back on stage. You laughed your ass off at seeing Pedro in his mullet wig and shut right up when you made eye contact with him. The tension you felt while near him had already been at an all time high but now that you’ve felt his dick slide across your ass cheek, you had no fucking idea how you were supposed to be normal around him. Was he gonna mention it? Did he even notice it? Did it affect him the same way it affected you? Your mind was spiraling. 

You were standing with Sabrina in the large crowd of people and you could hear Pedro’s voice lingering somewhere close by. You introduced yourself to a few people you hadn’t met before and as the room started to die down, you made your way back to the dressing room where Stacy was waiting for you. She called a car, deciding earlier in the day to go back to the hotel to change for the after party. You chose to wear a dress that allowed you to move more freely, shorter than the one you wore while sitting in the audience, with a pair of heels that you knew you’d regret wearing in the morning. You switched out your jewelry and purse to match the outfit better before you were leaving the hotel just as quickly as you had arrived. 

The afterparty was being held in some old, dingy dive bar that you were over dressed for. It reeked of alcohol and sweat, the maximum occupancy had definitely been broken for the sake of the Saturday Night Live after party. It was an open bar, someone with more money than they could ever need in a lifetime, had already offered to pay the tab at the end of the night. There was music blasting way too loudly for the normal bar to be playing and you’re certain there were some speakers hidden somewhere that were added just for tonight. You were immediately overstimulated and wishing you were in bed instead. You ordered the fruitiest drink the bar offered and made your way to somewhere less crowded, Stacy following your lead. Ugh, the things you do for men. 

“You must really like him for you to still be here right now.” Stacy points out, eyes roaming the growing crowd. 

“He better like me back because he’s literally the only reason I didn’t turn right back around when I came through that door.” You sigh, wishing the drink would be strong enough to calm you down. 

It wasn’t, but Sabrina pulled Stacy and yourself out of the corner and into the middle of the dance floor almost an hour ago. The three of you had been dancing and singing at the top of your lungs, getting everyone around you to join in. Everyone cheered when the intro to the ‘Cupid Shuffle’ came on, you’d been waiting for it to play since you requested it almost twenty minutes ago. That also happens to be the amount of time it’s been since you learned that there was a DJ taking song requests. The song comes and goes with many other middle school dance songs following it. Your song requests end with ‘Wobble’ by V.I.C and the second it ends, you’re yelling over the music, letting Stacy and Sabrian know that you needed a breather. You push your way through the crowd as politely as possible, trying to avoid the sweaty bodies from hitting your own as you make your way to the bar. 

“Can I get a glass of water please?” You ask the bartender as you lean across the counter. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you babygirl. Heard you did great tonight.” The voice sends you into a state of shock..or maybe it’s the feeling can be better described as panic? You weren’t sure what feelings were brewing in your mind but it caused you to call out to the bartender again. 

“Actually, give me whatever you think will make me black out the fastest..please.” You plead toward the bartender as a warm, large hand reaches for the small of your back. “Oh go ahead and double that while you’re at it!” You yell at the poor bartender that’s turned away from you, already in the middle of mixing your poison. 

“You can’t ignore me all night sweetheart.” That thick, Australian accent creeped into your ears again, his hand still sitting firmly on your back, falling a little too close to something that no longer belonged to him. 

“Hugh, hi. What are you doing here?” You ask, shimming away from the contact, his hand falling down. What you really wanted to ask was “why the actual fuck are you here right now?” but you were trying to be nice. 

“Ryan invited me. I wanted to be at the actual show but got caught up with some stuff.” He flicks his hand in the air a bit. “Nice song by the way. It’s good to hear that you’re actually taking accountability for what happened between us instead of blaming me for everything.” He nods, lips in a tight smile. 

“Hugh, don’t fucking start.” You say, patience and the ability to hold back any annoyance had slipped away. The bartender slides over a glass and you take a large gulp with immediate regret. The strong taste of liquor makes your tongue curl back in disgust. 

“What? Can the truth only come from your mouth and not mine?” He asked. You look up at him, his piercing blue eyes already staring down at you. The corners of his eyes, red. The same red that would take residency there when he wasn’t getting enough sleep. A small fact that you picked up in the time you spend with him, a fact you could care less about now. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Bye Hugh.” You slam the rest of your drink, sitting the glass down a little harder than you probably should have, and you start to walk away. You don’t make it far before a hand is grabbing your wrist, tugging you. “What the fuck do you want.” You snap, turning back towards Hugh. 

It’s been months since you’ve seen Hugh, the last time being when the two of you broke it off. It was ugly, angry. You could feel all of those feelings rising within you and this was not the place you wanted this to go down, not in front of your friends and colleagues. 

“I just wanna talk to you, clear the air.” Hugh says, voice softer and the antagonizing look gone. 

“Don’t give me that look Hugh.” You sigh. “Do you actually wanna talk or are you just gonna berate me the entire time?” He looks down. 

“I wanna talk, I miss you.” The last part is almost a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear over the party that continued to rawr through the interaction. You grunt, telling him to follow you. With a quick scan over the area, you find a bright red ‘EXIT’ sign and make your way towards it. It leads you down a longer hallway, a door at the end with another glowing sign above it. You stop a few feet from the door, back against the wall. 

“Are you gonna talk or are we just gonna stand here all night?” You ask Hugh after a beat of silence, patience running thin. He nods, “Right..” He says, mostly to himself. 

“I’m sorry for the way things ended.” He looks at you and you almost laugh. 

“Is that really all you have to say?” You ask, humor in your voice. He shakes his head. 

“No…I, uh…I’m sorry for cheating on you and letting things between us go on for as long as I did. I really do like you but I was in such a weird headspace with the divorce and all I just-” 

This time you do laugh. 

“Bull fucking shit. You don’t get to use your divorce as an excuse Hugh. Not when you cheated on your fucking wife with the same girl you cheated on me with.” You pause. “Matter of fact, why the fuck are you here and not with her? Did she already leave you again?” You laugh, it’s cruel. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. The look he gives you tells you everything you need to know. 

“She did leave you!” You shout in between giggles. “Oh my fucking god Hugh. You’re so fucking pathetic. She left you so you tried to come crawling back to me..is that what’s happening right now?” You ask in utter disbelief. 

“You aren’t exactly innocent in all of this.” He mumbles. 

“I’m gonna say this nice and slow so you get it through that meathead brain of yours.” You look him in the eyes. “My mistakes were made weeks into our relationship and they never got physical. Yes I flirted with people but that was it. You cheated on me for two months of our relationship Hugh and let her harass me for weeks before you broke up with me.” You breathe for a moment, sadness creeping in. “You told me you loved me for fucks sake. You made me think that I could love you too.” You admit. 

“But baby, I do love you, so so much darling.” He says, reaching out for you but you pull away before he can touch you. 

“You don’t love me and you never have. All you did was use me and I just let you.” Your voice crumbles and your eyes betray you, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “You never once called me when I was away on tour to see how I was doing. The only time you texted me was when you were horny and the only time you actually showed up was when you wanted to fuck.” Your voice gets stronger with each word you say, the anger rising as you remember what he did. “So don’t sit here and tell me you love me when the truth is that you don’t know how to be alone. It’s not something you should be ashamed of considering you were married longer than I’ve been alive but it’s your fault you're alone Hugh. You’re facing the consequences of your shitty actions and I don’t wanna be a part of that anymore.” 

Hugh stays quiet, looking at the floor. You take a moment, giving him the chance to speak but he never does. 

“Goodbye Hugh.” 

—

You walk out the door under the exit sign, pushing the metal bar and stepping into the cold air of February. The tears on your face began to dry with the small breeze that was a constant, causing chill bumps to form on your arms and legs. You regretted not listening to Stacy after she begged you to bring a coat. You wouldn’t have needed one if not for Hugh’s intrusion on the night but you weren’t ready to go back in there. You lean your back against the brick wall of the bar when the door opens again. A figure walks out, one that you can’t make out, the blur in your eyes from your tears isn’t helping your poor eyesight. They either don’t see you or they ignore you, lighting up a cigarette and leaning their own back against the wall. 

Most people hate the smell of cigarettes but it calms you down, reminding you of home. Memories of late Friday nights spent with your family, crowding around a bonfire that was made up of wooden pallets your dad would pick up from the farmer supply store a few miles out. Each of your male relatives sitting in a cheap plastic lawn chair with a beer in one hand, cigarette in the other. Country music blaring through the radio because any other music was just some ‘mumbo jumbo’ that didn’t make sense. It brings a smile to your face thinking about how the last time you sat around that burn pile, fire blazing, that ‘mumbo jumbo’ was your song playing on the radio, proud stares from your family. 

The recollection slips away by the sound of the stranger scuffing out the cigarette on the concrete, their shoe making a less than pleasant noise as it scrapes the rough surface of the ground. Just as they head towards the door, the light from the streetlamp catches their face. 

“Pedro?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question but it did. He turns, a face of confusion turning into a face of shock. 

“Y/n..” It comes out almost as a gasp. “Hey. What are you doing out here?” His hand drops from its previous spot on the door handle and walks over to you. 

“Eh..long story.” You shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked.” You say, pointing at the cigarette bud that had been discarded on the ground. He turns to look at the bud before turning back towards you, a look of embarrassment on his face. 

“Bad habit I picked up.” It’s his turn to shrug. “But uh..I’ve been looking for you. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.” 

“Sorry, I was on the dance floor then I…well now I’m here.” You say and he laughs. 

“I thought I saw you out there. I wasn’t so sure since you said parties aren’t your thing.” He teases. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t out there yourself. I’ve gotten to see your moves this week, you’re a pretty good dancer.” You tease back but his cheeks get red. 

“About that…I’m so sorry for what happened on stage tonight. I just kinda turned and then your…butt was on me and I…I’m sorry.” He says. 

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to be sorry and that he secretly fulfilled all of your perverted thoughts but you don’t. 

“Dude, it’s fine. I think we all got a little carried away out there.” You both laugh.

“We should head back in, you look like your one goosebump away from freezing.” He says, pointing at your arms. You instinctively rub your hands over your arms to warm them up, the cold much more noticeable now. 

“I think I’m done for the night. I’m beat.” You say, leaving out that it’s an emotional drain and not a physical one. “You should head back in though, go enjoy the night.” You smile. 

“I’m a bit tired too if I’m being honest.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was gonna tough it out for you.” 

“For me?” You ask. 

“Yea. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I kinda like being around you.” 

“I kinda like being around you too.” You admit, those butterflies erupting once again. “I was thinking about finding some place to get a coffee if you wanted to join?” He lets out a deep belly laugh and you’re convinced it’s the most attractive laugh you’ve ever heard in your life. 

“You want to get coffee at..” He checks his watch. “..two in the morning?” He asks. 

“Yep.” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Coffee makes me sleepy.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good thing sweetheart.” He frowns. The endearment sounds a lot better coming from his lips than it does coming from Hugh’s. 

“You don’t have to come. I can go on my coffee excursion alone.” You say, slowly beginning to walk off. Pedro follows. 

—

“Ugh my feet hurt and I’m cold.” You complain…again. 

The two of you had been walking for the past thirty minutes trying to find a coffee shop you searched on google maps but it literally wasn’t where it says it is. You’ve looped the block over and over again but still, no coffee shop. 

“Take my jacket.” Pedro offers for the millionth time. 

“No.” You say in response for the millionth time. 

“Why not? You’re being very stubborn.” He sighs. 

You can’t tell him that if you take his jacket he won’t ever get it back and that you physically can’t handle the smell of him because of personal reasons..so you just say “Because.” and shrug. 

“My hotel is right around the block, we can go there where it’s warm. Plus there’s a keurig so you can have coffee.” He offers, pointing in the opposite direction. You gasp playfully. 

“Pedro Pascal, at least take a girl out to dinner first before taking her up to your hotel room.” You joke, swatting at his arm. He rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” He asks. 

“Yes please.” 

Then you two are off in the exact direction you’d come from and had walked multiple times before. When you reach the hotel entrance, Pedro opens the door for you. 

“Dude, we’ve passed this place so many times and you just now came up with this idea?” You ask, body accepting the warmth of the lobby with a slight sting from the sudden change in temperature. Pedro leads you to the elevator, letting you enter first when the doors open. 

“I thought about it on our third lap around but didn’t wanna freak you out.” He says honestly with a shrug. He clicks button fifteen, which happens to be the top floor,  and the elevator starts moving. 

“What time is it?” You ask, too lazy to grab your phone out of the small purse that's been glued to your shoulder all night. 

“About a quarter to three.” He says, a yawn escaping his mouth. The elevator opens and you both walk down the right of the hallway, only two doors being on the floor. He’s opening the door as another yawn creeps out. 

“Hey, I can call my car if you’re too tired. I won’t be offended I promise.” You smile, entering the hotel room, or hotel suite rather. The room looks like a small apartment rather than a hotel room. It’s bigger than the suite you have with Stacy, despite it being two rooms instead of what you can assume is the one. 

“I want you here.” He assures. “I’m getting too old to be up this late.” He laughs but you frown. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna grab a sweater for you and I’m not taking no for an answer.” He’s walking down the small hallway before you can protest. You sigh and plop down on the couch, finally fishing your phone out of your purse. You’re met with endless texts and missed calls from Stacy: 

Stacypoo <33: where are you?

Stacypoo <33: we’ve looked everywhere

Stacypoo <33: we saw Hugh, are you okay? 

Stacypoo <33: pls answer, I’m getting worried 

The phone rings only once before Stacy answers. 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” She asks, voice full of worry. 

“Stacy I’m so sorry, everything happened so fast and I-” Your voice was rushed and full of remorse. 

“Hey. As long as you’re okay, it’s okay. Where are you right now?” She asks, voice calmer now. 

“I’m uh…I’m at Pedro’s hotel.” You lower your voice. You hear shuffling coming from the hall and Pedro is walking back out. He’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, shoes forgotten about, fuzzy socks replaced his previous white socks that you caught peeking in between his loafer and dress pants earlier. 

“You’re what?!?” Stacy whispers yells on the other end of the line. 

“It’s a long story, I’ll explain later, promise. You made it back okay?” You ask. 

“Yea I’m fine, I called the car when the bar started wrapping the party up. Are you coming back tonight or should I schedule a pick up for the morning?” She asks. Pedro, places a set of clothes on the edge of the couch you’re sitting on and walks over to the small kitchen. 

“Um..I’m not exactly sure yet. Get some sleep though, I’ll figure everything out okay?” The smell of coffee fills the air as the keurig starts dripping. 

“You sure.” Stacy responds. Pedro smiles over at you as he leans back on the counter, arms crossed. 

“I’m sure. I’m sorry for worrying you, I’ll see you soon.” You smile over to Pedro. 

“Okay, be safe. Love you.” She yawns.

“Love you Stac.” The call ends. Pedro walks over as the next cup of coffee brews. 

“I brought you a hoodie as promised along with sweats and socks to keep you warm. Only the hoodie is required but the rest would be appreciated.” He smiles. You stand up, stretching a little. You grab the stack of clothes. 

“Where can I change?” You ask and he points down the hall. 

“There’s the bedroom right down the hall. The bathroom is there too if you’re more comfortable with that.” You nod and head down the hall. You opt for the bathroom, the thought of changing in Pedro’s room felt like an invasion of privacy even if it was just his hotel room and not his actual one. You changed out of your dress quickly, the endless lights on the vanity were bliding. You admired yourself in the mirror for a moment and decided you really liked the way you looked in Pedro’s clothes. The smell coming from them was new. It wasn’t like the smell of cologne you had gotten used to but the true scent of him. You left the bathroom with the hood of the hoodie placed on your head…it totally wasn’t because you could smell his scent better… 

“Do you want milk or sugar? I don’t have creamer, sorry if that’s your thing.” He says without looking, mixing his own coffee. 

“You bought milk for your hotel room?” You ask in shock and a hint of playful judgement, fully expecting to drink a black coffee. 

“God forbid a man likes a glass of milk before bed. I'm an old man sweetheart.” He says, with one eyebrow raised.

“You need to get off tiktok.” You laugh. “But, you’re not old.” You add on, moving towards the counter to add a splash of milk to your mug. 

“Older than you.” He replies with a hum. Taking a sip of his own coffee, which he almost spits out at your response. 

“But not old enough to invite a twenty three year old to your hotel right?” You ask, smirking. You walk over to the small island and take a seat on one of the bar stools, Pedro stands on the other side. 

“You got me there.” He says, looking into his mug. A guilty look flashes across his eyes when he looks up at you. 

“Hey, I didn’t say that to be mean. Just teasing.” You say, he nods. “It’s not a bad thing that I’m here.” 

“It should be.” He says and takes another sip. 

“Why’s that?” You ask but you know what he’s gonna say. It’s the same conversation you had with Hugh. 

“You’re what…like thirty years younger than me?” He says, not really a question but it’s posed as one. You shake your head. 

“Only twenty six years.” You correct him and he chuckles. 

“Right. Twenty six years, like that’s any better. I had a whole life before you were born. I’m probably only a few years younger than your parents.” He says as a joke and you wince. 

“You’re actually older than them…” You tell him and he looks up to the ceiling, almost as if he's cursing some higher being. 

“Great. I’m older than your parents. That makes me feel a lot better.” He shakes his head. 

“You brought them up. I was just trying to be honest.” You say, throwing your hands up in the air in surrender. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” He says, clearing his throat as he takes another sip of coffee. Your own coffee has been forgotten, getting cold as it sits on the counter. 

“What’s not my fault?” You ask confused. He looks up, eyes locking with yours. 

“That I’m infatuated with a girl over half my age.” He admits, sitting his own mug down on the counter. 

“You’re infatuated with me?” You ask in awe, disbelief even. You had a feeling he had to like you a little bit to stay up until three in the morning with you but hearing the words out loud is different. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks. “Since I met you, you haven’t left my mind.” He pauses. “And seeing you at BBC and hearing you weren’t with Hugh anymore, I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier. I felt bad because you seemed sad and I still feel bad for feelings as joyous as I did at that moment. We keep bumping into each other and I feel like I’m too old to believe in fate but…if it’s not that then what else could it be?” He says, eyes never leaving yours. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way.” You admit, sheepishly. The shyness you’ve escaped was finally catching up to you. 

“Yea?” He asks with a smile, his dimple dipping into his cheek a little more than usual. 

“Yea.” You confirm. “Come here.” You tell him, swiveling the bar stool to face away from the counter. He walks over and you pull him by his hoodie sleeves, placing him in between your legs. You set his hands on your thighs and look up at him. The closeness makes your body tingle as his eyes set on yours. You each move forward slowly, lips inching closer and closer until they're almost touching. 

A phone rings and Pedro pulls back in a curse. He walks over to where his phone sits on the counter. 

“Sorry, I gotta take this. My sister is in London and she’s always forgetting about the time difference. I’ll be back.” He says, kissing your right cheek before stepping onto the balcony that’s attached to the small ‘living room’. You sigh, moving to the couch. Your eyes are heavy, the quietness of the room reminding you of the time. Pedro talks to his sister with a smile on his face, cigarette placed in between his fingers. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Pedro’s smile and little wave from outside.

thank you for reading! feel free to leave feedback in a comment, private message, or in my ask box!

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[junnieverse]

— SOOBIN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend soobin thoughts

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread, soobin being so boyfriend that it is in fact lethal, this just got longgg because I can’t stfu about how perfect soobs is

a/n: it doesn’t get more boyfriend material than soobin in txt, go argue with a wall

we already know choi soobin is one of a kind

im probably the biggest advocate for bf soobin agenda

like bf material = choi soobin!!

he’s tall, funny, pretty, hot, cute, smart

it’s giving cute college bf every girl dreams of

I genuinely could go on and on glazing him im afraid

BACK HUGS are a major yes >>>

you could casually be doing anything and he will just wrap his arms around your waist and snuggle his head between your neck letting his body heat radiate to you

most occurrences being when he’s just woken up, still feeling sleepy and you aren’t next to him so he goes on to find you and just hold you and close his eyes again

the second being while you both get ready for the day in the morning or for bed at night together

he may not be super clingy but he just loves the physical intimacy between the two of you

the sort of boyfriend you just can never shut up about and you probably have thousands of different wallpapers of him already

and im saying this coming from a place of how effortlessly bf this man looks in all his pictures

he’s caught you recording him on multiple occasions but he just lets you and he gets flustered but that just makes him look cuter in the pictures and videos

you both have highlights dedicated to each other, he’s constantly on your instagram stories too

just as much as you’ve got so much content on him, so does he on you

but a lot of it is candid and when you’re not paying attention because he’s tryna be slick

90% of his gallery consists of pictures of you either sleeping or mid laugh because that’s when he thinks you look the cutest

members have caught him smiling at himself like a dork looking at pictures of you whenever he’s away from you and misses you

he has mentioned on multiple occasions that he’s the passive type that “likes to be dragged around” or lead by his partner

and I can soooo see that

he would just be down for whatever if that’s what you want

if anything, your outward boldness was probably what drew him to you in the first place

“hey guys so im dating someone now.” soobin tells his friends

“dude what-“

“they came up to me and said I was cute and wanted to go out on a date. The waiter got me the wrong order and they called them out for it.” he explains shrugging his shoulders

everyone was too stunned to speak but he thought you were a badass and he has been head over heels since then

bake for him and you have his heart

and to those that aren’t the best in the kitchen, that’s okay too but as the saying goes, “a way to a man’s (soobin) heart, is through his stomach”

so I just think he would find it so cute and would be touched if his partner ever cooked or baked him anything

the type to give you piggy back rides and carry you

whenever he’s with you and he notices you getting tired, he just props down in front of you silently and waits for you to get on his back fighting back a small smile

if not that, usually at home when you’re tired or fallen asleep on the couch, he will just carry you up to your bedroom bridal style before tucking you in and kissing your forehead

small acts of service that sometimes you don’t even notice or you’re oblivious to

bending down to tie your shoelaces, carrying your bag for you, walking on the outer side of the pavement near the road, buying you medication whenever you’re sick, giving you his jacket when you’re cold, etc

the judgemental bf

and if you’re a hater then you can be judgey together!

it’s giving, he makes the face and you say it (soulmates)

he absolutely cherishes quality time

probably one of his biggest love languages might I add (alexa play love language by txt)

as previously mentioned, he is so down to do whatever you wanna do but he also loves the small moments where he just gets to cuddle you, play games together and watch a movie or a show with you

he also gives the warmest cuddles known to man

it’s like hugging a big teddy bear because he’s so warm (and squishy?)

in moments where he thinks you’re asleep while you both cuddle you catch him whispering sweet and soft words of affirmations to you

simply expressing his love and telling you how absolutely amazing you are and he’s just so lucky to have you

as much as he could tell you this consciously, he just gets too shy to say it to your face a lot of the time

he loves cheek kisses sm

be it giving or receiving (mostly receiving because he’s soft like that)

and just whenever you cup his cheeks or poke his dimples make him get all shy and feel all giddy

whenever you do touch his cheeks, he has gotten into the habit of leaning in into your touch and placing his hand on top of yours before kissing your palm (I want this so bad, I am unwell)

if you are a bit on the shorter side (which atp everyone is cause mans is HUGE) he would love the height difference

this also makes him love seeing you in all his clothes because of how much bigger they look on you and just swallow your frame

take all his hoodies, he would die from the cuteness aggression

and just to revel in that fact more he loves bending down to be at eye level with you while looking deep into your eyes before smiling with his dimples full on display

he knows very well that makes you weak in the knees and he loves that

the type to carry your favourite necessities with him in case you forget your own (eg. an extra hairband, lip gloss, anything of that sorts)

probably has a cute keychain you got him on his bag too that he gets teased about but he flaunts it like a badge of honour because it’s from you and so he loves it

always yapping to his friends about you and finding a way to bring you up into the conversation

“wow i heard this place has great pasta.” taehyun says looking through the menu

“that reminds me of this one restaurant I went to with (y/n) and they loved the pasta there…” and he just goes on and on yapping their ears off

he’s just a man that loves his partner and wants everyone to know that too

[karikarasuno]

part four | part five | wc: 2.4k

“You like that girl.” Ace cannot catch a singular break. He’s exhausted. He spent his entire morning outside fixing the chicken coop and all he wanted to do was shower and rot away on his couch for the rest of the day. But he forgot he told Whitebeard he would take him to his appointment. The man could drive himself, but after his lung cancer diagnosis Ace felt better if someone went with him. For moral support or whatever. And now he has to go to your place and see why your lights are out. Which he doesn’t have an issue with. Because yes, he likes you. He just doesn’t like being hounded about it.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s all in the eyes, boy,” Whitebeard nods thoughtfully beside him. Like he’s stuck in his own memory. “You can spot a lovesick fool in an instant just by the way he looks at a lady.”

Ace doesn’t have a response. Whitebeard has always been a wise man. But with age and illness he has become soft. And not in an insulting way. He’s still stubborn as all hell, but his resilience has taken an air of nostalgic reflection. The typical roughened edge to his words, his advice, has been sandpapered down. Smoothened into something palatable instead of brash.

“It’s a little complicated,” Ace sighs. He realizes the predicament he’s in. He recognizes that he does need to talk to you about this. But he especially needs to figure out what he even wants. Aside from sex. Because there’s no doubt in his mind that he definitely wants that.

“How the hell is it complicated? The girl just dropped into town,” Whitebeard says gravelly. “Can’t be that hard to take a woman on a date. You kids these days can’t do anything right.”

Ace is far too tired to argue or explain his situation with you. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. Especially considering the way your ‘relationship’ even started, but Whitebeard obviously has a point. He just needs to ask you out. Today.

So that’s what he decides to do. Right after he fixes your power issue, that is.

When Ace arrives at your house, the front door is propped open with a stool and you’re sitting in a rocking chair on the porch reading a book. Well, you were reading until you heard his truck approaching. You meet him at the top of your steps, holding your book to your chest and looking relieved to see him. He won’t lie, it does stroke his ego a bit. The way only he can help you.

“Thanks for stopping by,” you sigh, shuffling out of his way when he climbs the steps quickly. “It’s unbearable in there now.”

“I’m sure it’s an easy fix. I’ll get you cooled down in no time,” he says, releasing a short laugh through his nose.

“Show me to your breaker,” he says as he follows you inside your home. Well, Jinbe’s home.

“My what?” You ask as you turn to him. There’s plain confusion on your face. It’s cute.

“I actually already know where it is,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to just walk through your house. That would be rather impolite of me.”

“Right, we wouldn’t want Whitebeard showing up and scolding you again,” you tease him, your body taking another step towards him. And it’s small, but inches feel like you’re traveling miles when you’re already so close.

“Don’t you mean Edward,” he says with playful callousness and you laugh. Bright and pretty. “Had enough of that the last hour, I could use the break.”

His step towards you is much larger than yours. Bolder. Aggressive as he blatantly takes over the air around your frame. Your head has to tilt upwards to maintain eye contact with him. And he watches the way your chest rises deeply.

“I think you should show me where my breaker is,” you swallow and your eyes briefly glance at his lips. He should’ve missed it given how fast it was. He would’ve missed it but observing you is quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“You don’t even know what that is.” He all but breathes his words in your direction. Another step and he swears he sees your breath hiccup when your lips part.

“So show me.”

He steps so close to you your chest brushes his. Goosebumps light his arms and that surprises him given how fleeting the touch is. He angles his face towards you, nearly tasting your lips on his tongue. The memory tugs at him.

“It’s in your laundry room.” He points over your shoulder down the hall. To the room right beneath the stairs. “It’s kinda hard to miss.”

You use two fingers to push him away. Your fingertips digging into his chest. “That’s only if you know what you’re looking for.”

****

“I know you said it was normal, but I’m still grossed out by the fact that a lizard found its way into my breaker and started flipping switches.”

“Just one,” he laughs, shutting the door to your laundry room behind him. “The main one which is why everything went dark earlier.”

“Well it’s good to know that I can fix it myself next time instead of ambushing you in your own home.”

“Only an ambush if you weren’t welcome.” You smile at him when he says that. A smile that reaches your eyes. Genuine. He wants more. Maybe he’s greedy, but he doesn’t really care anymore. Ace wants to see where this goes. Where it has the potential of going. Because he really does like you.

“Are you hungry, Ace?” You ask suddenly. You’re shuffling in place when you stop near your kitchen.

“I usually am.” He answers, a smile tugging at his lips when he realizes where this might be going.

“Can I make you dinner?” Your fingers knot together in front of you. A nervous tick. “To repay you for your time.”

You don’t have to repay him. It was an easy fix, plus your home is on the way to his, so it’s not like he had to go out of his way for you. And even if he did, he would have. “Hard to say no to a home cooked meal.”

“Good,” you smile, your fingers loosening their grip on each other and your hands fall to your side. Definitely a nervous tick of yours. “Because I should probably cook this bacon before it goes bad. How about carbonara?”

“What’s that?” He tilts his head in contemplation since this isn’t something he’s familiar with. At least he doesn’t think so.

“You’ve never had carbonara?” Your eyebrows knit together. Disbelief on your face.

“Never heard of it.” He shrugs, staring as you step into your kitchen and opening your refrigerator.

“The pasta dish?” You clarify, popping your head over the top of the fridge door after bending over to look at the contents of your fridge.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You bend over again. He tries not to look at your ass. He fails. Obviously.

“Huh.” You shut the fridge door with your hip after pulling out bacon, eggs, parmesan cheese, and a few cloves of garlic. “You’re in for a treat then. I add garlic to mine even though you’re not technically supposed to. Just don’t tell the Italians.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” There’s a new excitement coming from you when you line everything up on the counter. A sort of delight emits from you as you gather a pan, cutting board, and knife.

“I haven’t cooked for someone else in such a long time,” you say airily. “It’s been hard for me to adjust to cooking only a single serving since I moved out here.” You send him another smile over your shoulder. His heart skips. “So, this is nice.”

“Well, feel free to triple it. I got a pretty big appetite.” He leans against the counter opposite you, staring as you smash the garlic and peel it.

“No surprise there,” you chuckle, rough chopping the garlic. “Luffy eats me out of house and home whenever he’s here.”

“That’s about the only thing we have in common.” He grins because even though you’re complaining about Luffy there’s still something sweet about the way you say it. Like you’re fond of him already.

“I doubt that.” You start cutting the bacon into small pieces next. “I’m sure you’re just as stubborn as he is.”

“What makes you think that?” He asks with his arms crossed and a laugh waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t have enough proof yet to support my claim, but for now it’s just a hunch.” You wink at him over your shoulder as you add oil to the heated pan.

“And the basis of your hunch is what exactly?” You flit around the kitchen confidently as you pull a pot from a cabinet beside the stove, eyeing him playfully as you walk to stand directly beside him while you fill the pot with water.

“When’s your birthday?” You ask out of nowhere.

“January 1st,” he answers. Skeptical.

“Well, there you go.” You shut off the water and head back to the stove top. “You’re a capricorn.”

He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and chuckles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn like your brother.” You add the bacon to the pan, the sizzle interrupting you. “Who’s a taurus. An earth sign. Just like you.”

“I guess I’m just gonna have to prove you wrong.” You grab a handful of pasta and place it in the boiling water. Then you look at him, eyes dragging slowly down his body before you grab another handful and add it to the water.

“I guess you will, but lucky for you I like capricorns.” His smile stretches across his face without his permission. It’s a natural response to you. One that he didn’t realize he developed. But one that he thoroughly enjoys.

The dish is done surprisingly quickly. Less than twenty minutes and you’re stirring in the egg and parm mixture (which he was initially suspicious of), but it forms a glossy sauce that looks more appetizing than he expected.

“Ok, now you just gotta add a little salt and pepper to taste,” you sprinkle in the seasonings, giving the pasta another stir, “and we’re done.”

You show off the dish to him excitedly before turning to grab a fork from the drawer by your hip. He then watches you twirl together the perfect bite directly out of the pan. “The garlic adds a nice bite with the crunch of the bacon,” you say, almost adoringly.

“Here.” You step closer to him, hovering the fork near his lips. “Try it.”

Ace leans forward, eyes stuck on you. No one’s ever fed him before. And it’s odd, the affection that fills his chest. He never would’ve expected to feel this way about a gesture so simple. But despite your ease, there’s an intimacy in your actions. One that makes his heart flutter.

His lips wrap around the fork and even though he cannot stop thinking, looking, yearning for you, the flavor that bursts across his tongue is startling. It’s good.

“There’s egg in this?” He asks around his mouthful. Your lips stretch into a grin that’s not as coy as the others you have given him. There’s a confidence alight in your eyes that he hasn’t seen since the night you met. A confidence that he finds endearing. And sexy.

“Mhm,” you hum, shifting closer to him. “It’s yummy, isn’t it?”

You whisper it giddily in the limited space between you. He’s leaning forward on the counter, bracing his upper body on his forearms. The angle forces him to look up at you slightly. An angle he’s unfamiliar with, but doesn’t mind. Not when he’s sure you’re about to kiss him. He chews faster. Anticipation licks at his neck. It burns.

“Yeah,” he says around a swallow, but he hardly gets the word out. Hardly even gets to finish his swallow when you press your lips to his. It’s softer than he’s expecting. Your lips are warm where they touch his. He’s pretty sure there’s still bacon in his mouth. Which sounds deeply unattractive except you sigh when he parts his lips. You melt when his hand rises to cup your face.

You push your weight against him next. It forces him to straighten to keep up with you. With your urgency. Your impatience. He groans when you deepen the kiss, your free hard tangling in his hair. His other hand finds your waist and he squeezes.

Ace is functioning on a muscle memory he didn’t even realize he had. But when his hand travels down to grip your hip and you whimper in the back of your throat he remembers. In vivid detail. Rough. Hard. Fast.

He presses your back against the counter, slipping his tongue into your mouth when he slides his knee between your thighs.

“Ace.” You whine and a shiver runs violently down his spine. You’re clinging to him, your hips find motion against his thigh and he swallows the moan that crawls up your throat.

He needs more access to you. Better access. His hands find your waist to prop you on top of the counter but as soon as your ass meets the edge of the counter, metal clatters and the fork you used to feed him clangs across the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes in a hurry. But you laugh as soon as your feet hit the floor again.

“We got carried away,” you breathe out another little laugh against his chest. “We’re supposed to be eating.”

“That was entirely your fault,” he laughs in response, smiling down at you when you stare up at him.

“You’re right,” you nod, pushing yourself away from him and out of his arms. And he feels insane because he already misses you. “I’ll behave.”

You grab two forks this time when you open the drawer to replace the one that fell. But when you hand him his he grabs your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“What are you doing Thursday night?” He asks, remembering Whitebeard’s words.

“I work until 8. Why?”

“Let me take you out.” He says, pulling your wrist closer to him and kissing the inside. Your lashes flutter at his action, and you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Ok,” you mutter, a bit dazed when his lips drag across the soft skin of your inner wrist. “I guess I can let you do that.”

taglist: @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @nico-ith @chillerkiller @jozhenji @starchild-unnamed @certain-tragedies @hannahbarberra162 @kanekisheart @stuckinmymind22

[manincaffeine]

Hey, I hope everything’s well with everyone.

After two months of isolation, I realized something about myself, it wasn’t social media, it was my bad time-management skills. Somewhere along the way, I’ve been running from something, some memories, my intrusive thoughts. I kept myself so busy that I forgot I have a personal life to live. And since I had an entrance exam, it was actually good to take a break. But Tumblr became my go-to place for my thoughts.

There are moments when your heart suddenly feels so heavy, and you can’t even explain why. No loud thoughts, no new pain, just a quiet ache that wraps around your chest like a weight you can’t shake. And the worst part? You don’t have anyone to talk to. Not because you lack people around you, but because you’re tired of explaining your pain, tired of pretending you’re okay, tired of hearing “This too shall pass.” So you just sit there, quiet, with a lump in your throat, with tears you won’t let fall, with emotions buried so deep that even you don’t fully understand them anymore. I’m too exhausted to explain my soul again. But I will be fine soon.

Sometimes you run from everything in search of peace. I did too. But in the end, I discovered that peace lives within you, you just have to learn how to control your mind, stay positive, and devote yourself to God. It was only me, keeping myself so busy that I couldn’t think about anything else. Still, I had many breakdowns and sleepless nights, and slowly it started affecting my productivity. Then I realized: my mind is a death trap. I can be completely fine, on top of the world but one sentence can turn it all upside down. A single thought can send me spiraling into sadness and self-hatred. My mind treats wanting help as wanting attention. It’s an endless maze I can never escape. Every decision has a consequence.

But i’m still here. trying. starting over. working on myself. softly. quietly. i’ll post here again. not because i need to be seen. but because i want to feel something real. and maybe heal. little by little.

i’m not okay. but i will be. and for now, that’s enough.

[earthsparked]

Hi, how are you? I hope you’re doing well! :)

Well, I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but I was thinking about something. In my teenage years, I couldn’t do certain things, one of them was getting a belly button piercing. Now that I’m an adult, I’m really tempted to get one, even if it’s kind of silly.

If you haven’t done anything like this yet, would you consider creating a scenario where a bot gets curious about this kind of body modification on their human friend? Of course, Cybertronians also modify their bodies just for style or to feel more attractive, but I think they’d be a little surprised that such “fragile” and “delicate” beings as humans would willingly pierce their bodies to insert metal jewelry, or get drawings under their skin using machines that poke them 28,000 times to cover a 5 cm² area.

I think bots like First Aid or Bluestreak would be shocked!

Not silly at all! This is another one I'm glad to take a swing at, but I personally don't have any experience with, so I apologize if it's not quite what you're looking for. I actually used a family member's tattoo as the basis for this, as well as the belly button piercing. Best of luck with your decision! <3

You got a little tired of people asking "what does your tattoo mean?" pretty much in the first year you had it, but hearing that question from Bluestreak is entirely different. It's a scorching hot day and you've escaped down to the small pond not far from the base. Either kidnapping or being kidnapped by your talkative friend, depending on how you look at it. The air is muggy and humid and you roll your pants up to the knee, kicking off your shoes so you can dangle your feet in the water. Bluestreak is next to you, his optics moving around with wonder as he follows the flight path of green and blue dragonflies that dart here and there.

His usual cheerful chatter dries up abruptly as his gaze looks to you and lands on the butterfly tattoo on your ankle, seeing it for the first time. His first question isn't "what does your tattoo mean?" It's –

Is that a bruise? Are you hurt?! Does it hurt? Do you need to see Ratchet? How did that happen? Did I do that to you? I'm sorry! I thought I was so careful!

He's so sweet and fretful and attentive, you couldn't have asked for a better friend. You'd explained the concept of bruises just recently in the short time of having known the mechs, and while most of them thought it was just weird or gross, a couple of your friends were now on high alert for any discoloration. Clearly Bluestreak was one of the latter. (You winced internally as you realized you hadn't remembered your sunscreen, and weren't looking forward to explaining sunburns.)

Whoa, Blue, no, it's not a bruise, you reassure him. You pull your foot out of the water and tilt your ankle toward him so he can see it better. I'm not hurt. It's a tattoo. A permanent decoration I got years ago. Kind of like your Autobot sigil, but for organics.

Oh, he says, settling down considerably. I didn't know humans had sigils. You put them on your vehicles, but on yourselves too?

He reaches out for you with a silent question in his hesitancy, the quirk of his head, and you're once again reminded just how much your species share in body language. Many things have just fallen into place, no explanation needed. But you're not sure if this particular practice will translate properly.

You can look. And touch, if you're gentle. It's a little old now, so it's not as crisp and clean as it used to be. I should probably get it touched up to make the ink nice and bright again.

You shimmy sideways and let him rest your ankle in his hand, leaning back on your elbows so you don't topple over. He's as gentle with you as if you were porcelain, having actually read the physical tolerances memo Ratchet had sent out, so he knew not to yank or twist on your joints. His engine purrs with a soft curiosity as he smooths his thumb over the butterfly. You're waiting for it, and that's when he finally asks. But of course, being Bluestreak, it's tucked in with about a dozen other rapidfire questions.

What is this? Why did you get this done? Does it mean something to you, like my Autobot brand means to me? Does this mean you're part of some kind of human faction? What do you mean, ink? Did they not do a good job of doing it the first time?

You exhale softly and recline all the way, lying down on the grass with your arms folded behind your head. Content to let him trace the delicate bones and ligaments of your ankle and foot.

It's a butterfly. An earth insect. They're pollinators, brightly-colored ones, and they're harmless. They like flowers. We'll probably see some today.

You think about your words for a second. Nobody had prepared you for your new unofficial career of cultural explainer to humanity's first alien allies, but you were learning on the job.

Butterflies do have a lot of different symbolic meanings. In some cultures they're representative of souls. Human sparks. Other people see them as a symbol of hopeful endurance, because some of them are very delicate but survive traveling miles and miles on a migration.

For me, they're about embracing change. A symbol of life being a constant process of transition. Butterflies are about being open to becoming someone new, even if it's painful. Even if you have to leave things behind. Even if you have to leave people behind, including the person you used to be.

Give Blue credit, he's emotionally aware and sensitive enough to know when to be quiet. He's hushed as he looks up from your tattoo to settle his attention on your face. You close your eyes against the bright sunlight.

I got that tattoo when I...had to leave something behind. I wanted a reminder I could see, that I could always keep, that just because things were changing, that was okay. That the future could be even more beautiful than the past. I just had to be brave enough to go through it. Curl up in that cocoon and not know exactly what was going to happen when I came out of it, but be ready to accept it. And not linger in regrets. It being something permanent on my body was...kind of like a test, I guess. To prove that if I could go through with getting it, I could make it through this big change in life.

You finally fall silent, and Blue's quiet, too, at least long enough for you to wonder what he's thinking and open your eyes. He's still gently stroking your ankle and foot, and the distant look on his face makes you think he's far away.

Bluestreak? you prompt him. Does that answer your questions?

He gives himself a little shake, and his next questions are softer, more hesitant. Why was it a test? Why is it permanent? You mean you can't change it or remove it?

You alter your own voice to match his vibe, not wanting to alarm him.

Getting tattoos is painful. Not unbearably painful - not mine, anyway, you add, wincing as you think of some others you'd seen. Our bodies have areas with more nerve endings than other places, so it's different depending on where you get it. To make the tattoo, they use a special needle to inject the ink under the skin over and over. It takes a while to put the design on. I'm not very good at putting it into words, but it feels kind of like a cross between being cut and burned. Sort of.

His armor had been flaring a little, but it's at this last bit he gives an upset rumble. He sounds a little sparkbroken as he asks, It hurt you...? With needles?!

His servos cup protectively around your foot. But what if something went wrong! Ratchet's always saying how there's all kinds of things that can go wrong! What if the needle went too deep? What if it got infected? What if you decide you don't like it anymore?

You give a half shrug. That's just part of the risk you take. But tattoo parlors follow safety regulations. If I decide I don't like it, I can get a different tattoo to cover it up. Or try laser removal, but that's even more painful. But I wouldn't, anyway. I love my butterfly. It reminds me of how strong I can be, when I need to be.

You'd actually spent some time in the shower the day after you'd met the mechs, leaned against the wall under the water, washing the chaos out of your hair and the blood from your body. And you'd caught a glimpse of your tattoo. Something that you chose. Something that wouldn't wash away. What was pain compared to that? It had eventually given you the courage to shut off the water and reach for your towel.

You can tell you've given Bluestreak a lot to think about, but he releases your foot so you can sit up, and turns to face you directly. Do humans do other kind of mods like that...? I've seen some people with little bits of metal on their ears?

You nod and chuckle, reaching for your shirt to show off your belly button piercing. Or at least the hole where it goes. You haven't bothered putting one in recently, concerned about what might happen in your newly dangerous pastime of hanging out with giant alien robots. Getting it snagged on somebody's armor kibble or something is not your idea of a good time.

We pierce all kinds of body parts. Those can mean something, too, or it can just be for decoration. I have my belly button pierced, here, though I don't have any jewelry in right now. You press against your skin to show it to him.

Pierced -? Another needle? he sounds a little horrified, but clearly trying to bite back his reaction out of politeness. Um. I bet it looks great, when you do wear jewelry in it.

You laugh and release your shirt, and reach out to give him a friendly pat. It's okay, Blue. It was a long time ago. It hurt, but it healed, and I like having it.

You wish you could leave it there, but for the sake of a full explanation, you know you shouldn't. You hate it when you have to open up about some unsavory part of human culture. It helps when you remember the mech you're talking to is very, very old, and has probably killed a lot of Decepticons. Nobody on this planet has entirely cleans hands. Life isn't that simple.

You continue saying, Not all humans like it when other humans have piercings and tattoos, or other body modifications. Some of them are kind of huge jerks about it. Like, I've never had problems, but a friend of mine who has more visible tattoos on her arms and shoulders, is pretty sure she got fired from a job because people complained about her tattoos. That's not supposed to happen, but, well.

Bluestreak nods; he's been confronted with the unthinkable becoming reality for longer than you and your entire family had ever been alive.

My butterfly might mean one thing to me, but to someone else...they might think of it as messing up my body, or they might have some kind of religious belief that says it's bad. And a lot of families feel like they should have control over their children's – their sparklings' bodies. So they don't let them get piercings or tattoos.

A look of understanding crosses Bluestreak's face. A slightly dark, haunted look. You wonder what he's thinking, and after a minute he explains,

Back on Cybertron, what your alt mode could do or what it couldn't do meant everything. What sort of education and job you could get. Who would or wouldn't talk to you if you saw them in the street.

You move over to him so you can sit close enough to lean your weight against him. It often works to calm the mechs, just by your closeness and touch. This sweet friend of yours has been through five kinds of hell in his very long life; he deserves whatever comfort you can offer him. They all do.

There was something terrible they would do to mechs who didn't play by the rules. Mechs who kept defying them. Something that changed their frames forever. As punishment.

His entire frame shudders, and you realize he's toeing the line of being able to tolerate this conversation, and having to go for one of his long drives with Prowl. You wonder what he would think to know humans had used non-consensual modification on other humans, too, as punishment, as control and even worse. But you have seen him spiral before and don't want to push him over that line now.

You carefully try and draw him away from his thoughts.

I had been wondering what you would think about this kind of thing, you say quietly. What we do to decorate ourselves or change our bodies. Since, you guys can just scan a new alt mode and change everything up. And that doesn't hurt you, just requires enough energy?

He nods and huffs an ex-vent, like a human sigh. Right. I can't imagine it hurting. It feels right. You're really brave, making changes you want even though it hurts. Maybe -

He trails off, and you gently nudge him with a shoulder. Maybe what?

If you ever want to get something else, this touch-up you called it, or a new piercing? I could go with you if you want? And I can talk and hold your hand and keep you distracted from the pain? Or. I guess I can't if it's somebody who doesn't know about us yet, he frets, backtracking and clearly upset that he has to. Upset that you might go through pain without any support from him. I'm sorry, I didn't think! I guess I can't, huh.

He hushes as you slide your arms around him in the best kind of hug you can give his giant frame, and lean your head against him.

That's okay, Blue. Hey. Maybe I'll get a tattoo that reminds me of you. Then it'll be like you're always holding my hand. Now that you've thought of it, you like the idea.

Blue seems to warm to it, too. If you get something for me, I want to get something for you! Sigils don't hurt to get, really, so it's not the same but -

I would love that, you assure him, and sigh softly against his side. He tentatively reaches down and rests his hand around you, his servo so big it's like being settled into a metal throne.

And I won't change it, he promises. No matter what. Since you can't change yours, I won't change mine either. If I change my alt mode, I can keep it with me.

But you shake your head. No, Blue. That's kind, and I want a piece of you with me forever, too. And some things are forever. I'm never, ever going to forget you and how much meeting you has meant to me.

But if I've learned anything in life, it's that we always need to leave room to grow. To change. We're always becoming something new. You give a little bittersweet smile. That can hurt, too. But it's worth it.

You spend the rest of the afternoon pointing out all the butterflies you see to each other. By the time you're ready to slip your shoes back on and return to the base, you know something else has changed, too. While your tattoo meant something different to you originally, now it will always be a memory of this afternoon with your friend from far away.

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ chamomile tea !

↳ frank castle x female reader

you don’t hear him come in. the door creaks just a little, but your head stays bowed over the kitchen table, hands loose in your lap. there’s a soft ache behind your eyes that’s been growing all afternoon — nothing big enough to cry about, just one of those long, grey days that settles into your bones and stays there.

the hum of the kettle starts behind you. you blink once, slow. you didn’t ask. didn’t move. didn’t say a word.

but he knows anyway.

he doesn’t speak. never does, really, not when it’s like this. not when you’re worn thin and heavy in that quiet way that doesn’t want to be seen. but still — he sees it. he always does.

a mug appears beside your elbow, pushed close enough for the steam to touch your skin. honey. no lemon. two teabags.

you stare at it for a second too long. the soft golden color, the way it curls at the top from the heat. he’s already stepped back. leaning against the counter, arms crossed, like he didn’t just read your mood down to the last thread.

“thanks,” you say, voice barely above the whistle of the kettle cooling. you wrap your hands around the mug and let the warmth bleed into your fingers. it feels like something unwinding in your chest. slow and careful.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just reach into you without touching. “long day?”

you nod. that’s all he needs.

he doesn’t push, doesn’t ask what happened. frank’s not the type. he lets the silence sit between you like something alive, something soft. doesn’t fill it with noise or questions or things you’re too tired to answer.

instead, he moves around the kitchen in that quiet, solid way of his — puts away a dish, runs the tap low. doesn’t look at you again, not yet. just stays close enough that you can feel the comfort of him nearby. familiar weight. steady hands.

you sip the tea. it’s perfect. warm and strong, sweet enough to catch on your tongue, like he knew exactly what would make your shoulders drop a little. he did.

you glance at him. his jaw’s tight like always, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he finally meets your gaze. like he’s checking in. like he’s listening without saying it.

“you always make it right,” you murmur. “even the bad-day version.”

he doesn’t smile, not exactly, but the corners of his mouth twitch like they want to. “’course i do.”

your lips quirk, just a little. “you keep a chart or somethin’?”

“just pay attention,” he says. then, a little softer, “that’s all.”

you look down again, to the tea. to the steam still rising. you don’t say it, but it means something — more than a drink, more than the routine of it. it’s him. it’s how he stays close without crowding. how he sees you without making you explain yourself.

“you always know,” you say under your breath. “even when i don’t.”

frank comes closer then, rests his hand against the back of your neck. warm and grounding. his thumb brushes the edge of your hairline, and it makes something in your chest ache in the best kind of way.

“you don’t gotta say anything,” he murmurs. “i’ll still take care of you.”

you lean into his touch. his palm is rough, calloused, but gentle as anything.

“you’re too good at it,” you whisper.

he huffs a small laugh through his nose. “nah. just got good taste in people.”

you smile into your mug.

he leans down, presses a kiss to the top of your head — soft, like he’s sealing in the comfort. “finish your tea, sweetheart.”

“yes, sir.”

his thumb strokes the curve of your neck once before pulling away. he heads for the hallway, probably to grab a blanket, maybe your favorite sweater from the bedroom. something else to tuck around you like protection.

but even if he didn’t — even if it was just the tea and the quiet and the closeness — you’d still feel held. because that’s what frank does. not loud, not showy. just steady. present. always two steps ahead when you need something without ever making you feel like a burden.

you sip again, slower now.

outside, the sun’s dipped past the window. shadows stretch long across the floor, but the kitchen feels warm. golden.

you wrap both hands tighter around the mug and close your eyes.

he always remembers.

FRANK CASTLE : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies, @seasonofthenerd, @the-dixon-effect

@sreidmia, @10ava01, @divierses, @408destiiny, @tinyminxi

@tcddszn, @xanaxiii, @Blu-jays, @chaoticcoffeequeen, @frankies-girl

@person-005, @malfoys-demigod, @wkhannah

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[afterheese]

The Prefect Match - Yang Jungwon x f!reader

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes. His hand is on your throat.

cw: dark!jungwon, noncon,hair pulling, degradation, creampie, babytrapping and physical violence.

word count : 3.5k

You knew it was the right decision.

Ending things with Jungwon wasn’t just overdue, it was needed. The relationship had rotted from the inside out, twisted into something dark and suffocating. You’d spent too much time walking on eggshells and flinching at every raised voice or hand. So you left.

But ever since the breakup, something in the air felt wrong.

He didn’t take it well—not at all. The calls kept coming. At first, it was pleading. Sweet, pathetic apologies dripped in fakeness. But they didn’t stay sweet for long. They turned sharp and accusing. His voice would swing from soft regret to explosive rage in a single breath. As if the breakup wasn’t real. Like you were throwing a tantrum.

Now your phone buzzes at strange hours—2:17 a.m., 4:03, 5:12 always from unknown numbers. No voice, no noise just silence. You’ve started checking your locks more than once. Then again. Then again. You keep the blinds shut even when the sun is out, because the idea of light feels unsafe now. Too visible. Because Jungwon doesn’t lose. And he doesn't listen when you say no. He doesn’t rage. He doesn't scream. He waits. He smiles. Control isn’t something he wants. It’s something he assumes he already has. You don’t know it now, but you’ll soon realize that leaving him was the worst mistake you could’ve made. 

“Girl, relax—he’s not here,” she says, not even looking at you. Her voice is flat, tired, like you’re annoying her with your nonsense. “Stop being so paranoid. I heard he’s got a new girlfriend or something, so… he’s over you.”

You blink at her, fork halfway to your mouth. She's probably right. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, and you’re starting to feel like the one who is being crazy. But the incidents around the house was telling you otherwise like the window in your bedroom was open yesterday morning. Just a crack. You remember closing it. You always do. You even double checked it after brushing your teeth. But there it was, gaping like a mouth in the wall, letting the cold in.

Then there was the necklace. You found it in the laundry room. You haven’t worn it in weeks. You’d swear you left it on your dresser. “You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, quieter than you meant to. “That my stuff keeps moving around?” Kailey shrugs. “You probably just forgot. You’ve been super stressed lately. Your brain’s probably just... I don’t know. Filling in blanks.” Her smile is small, pitying. It makes you feel like a child so you nod, even though your stomach twists. Because how do you argue with someone who makes your fear sound like fiction?

Everyone you’ve talked to says the same thing. You’re imagining it. You’re spiraling. Maybe talk to someone. No one listens to what you’re actually saying. They just want you to stop talking. And the more you try to explain, the more ridiculous you sound. Like some clingy ex who can’t move on. Like you’re obsessed with someone who isn't even thinking about you. 

 You smile. You laugh when Kailey makes a joke about “getting you a security system and a therapist.” Maybe they’re right. Maybe your memory is just playing tricks on you. Maybe the cold air, the lost things, the tapping you heard last night…maybe it’s all just in your head. But if that’s true… why does it still feel like someone’s watching you? 

“Okay, call me when you get home, alright?” Kailey says, pulling you into a quick hug. “And don’t worry about Jungwon. You’re fine. Seriously. He wasn’t good for you, and breaking up with him was the smartest thing you’ve done.” She squeezes your arm before turning away, heading toward her car without waiting for a reply. The door slams, the engine hums to life, and just like that, she’s gone—leaving you alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You stand there for a moment, watching her taillights fade into the distance. The street feels too quiet now, like someone turned the volume down on the world. “I hope you’re right,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, then turn and begin the walk toward home. 

The sidewalk stretches ahead of you, slick from earlier rain. Your shoes tap softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm you try to focus on. Left foot, right foot. Just a walk home. Just like every other night. But now Kailey's voice is gone, and without it, the air feels too thin. A streetlight flickers as you pass underneath it, buzzing once like it’s annoyed by your presence. You glance up out of habit. It dies for a moment, then flares back to life, casting your shadow behind you. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching as you turn down your street. The houses here are dark, windows glowing faintly blue with TV light or not at all. You tell yourself it’s just late. People are asleep inside. 

But your stomach won’t stop tightening. That pressure behind your ribs again—like something’s watching you. Like something’s a few steps too close. You stop walking to listen. Behind you… nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just wind rustling the trees and the faint hum of traffic blocks away. You glance over your shoulder. Empty street. You hate how fast your heart is beating. You keep walking. Faster now. You don’t want to look again. If no one’s there, you’ll feel stupid. If someone is—No, don't go there. You stop again, one foot hesitating mid-step. You turn slowly and look behind you. Still no one there. But the streetlight—It’s off now. Completely dark.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your limbs tense before you can even think. And then—You run.

You don’t think about how it looks. You don’t care. You take off, shoes slapping the pavement, your bag bouncing hard against your hip. You just run.

Your house comes into view—porch light glowing weakly like it’s trying, but not enough. You fumble for your keys as you hit the steps. You nearly drop them. Your fingers are shaking too much and the sweat making it difficult to hold them. You glance behind you. Nothing. Still. But you don’t believe it. You shove the key in, not it. Try again. Shit not it. Curse under your breath. You keep looking over your shoulder like you're expecting to see someone step out of the dark. Click. The key finally turns. You throw the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind you. You turn the lock. The deadbolt and the chain. Then you press your back to the door, eyes closed, chest heaving. 

You stay with your back pressed to the door, listening for something—anything. Maybe the wind. Maybe footsteps that were never there. Maybe it was just your heart that was punching the inside of your ribs. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Then you heard a thud. A soft, unmistakable sound, like something falling. Not from the kitchen or the living room. It was from your bedroom.

Your body goes cold. You strain your ears, willing for the sound to be nothing. A book slipping off your bed. Something you left too close to the edge. Just gravity. Just the house settling. But you know what you heard. You know exactly where it came from.

Your room. Down the hall. Door slightly open—just as you left it.

You step forward. Slowly. Like your feet don’t belong to you anymore. Your fingers brush against the wall as you move, needing the feel of something solid. You pause at your door. Another noise—a shift. The creak of the mattress springs.

You don’t want to look. Every nerve screams at you not to. But you push the door open anyway. And there he is.

Jungwon.

Sitting on your bed like he never left. He’s leaned back against your pillows, one arm stretched casually along the headboard, the other resting on his knee. Legs spread comfortably, like he owns the room. Like you’re the intruder. “Well,” he says, voice smooth, almost lazy, “you made it farther than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd fold after the second time you found the window open.” His gaze skims over you—your posture, your silence, your fear.

“You really thought locking doors and whispering to Kailey would make a difference?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Cute.” Then he exhales, almost like a yawn, and shifts his weight to the side of your bed. “But playtime’s over now.” He looks you straight in the eye, the smile gone. “Time to come back to me. This little game was fun... but I’m getting bored.”

He pats the bed beside him—slow, twice.

“Don’t make me chase you again.”

You looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “Jungwon… what the fuck is wrong with you?” Your voice cracks from the force of it. Your hands are shaking. You don’t care.

“Get the hell out of my house!” you scream, louder this time. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.

“Babe,” Jungwon said, his voice calm and patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “Stop yelling. It’s embarrassing.” 

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” You reach into your bag, fingers brushing your phone, eyes locked on him like you're defusing a bomb. Your heart racing. But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes.

His hand is on your throat.

“Now why would you do that, huh, babe?” he breathes, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. “I missed you. And I know you missed me.”

His fingers tighten. You choke, your nails clawing at his wrist. Your vision flickers.

“Stop struggling and just accept it, babe. I’m here now. We’re done playing—”

You swing your knee up, fast, hard, straight into his groin.

He makes a sound—half-growl, half-scream—and doubles over, crashing to the floor.

You stumble back, gasping, clutching your throat, then bolt down the hall. You don’t look behind you. You know what’s coming. You hit the living room. The space feels too small—too many corners, too many shadows, and nowhere to hide. Your feet pound the floor as you race toward the kitchen, lungs burning.

But then—His hand. It misses you by less than an inch. 

You throw yourself into the kitchen and lunge for the drawer. The knife. The drawer sticks. You yank. Too slow. His hand grabs your hair—hard—and you feel your head jerk back, your scalp screaming as he slams you forward. Your temple hits the counter edge with a sickening crack. The world wavers. You dropped to the floor.

He’s pacing now, breathing hard, muttering. Mindless. Mechanical. Like a record skipping on loop.

“You were made for me,” he hisses, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. “Don’t you get it? You don’t exist without me. I built you.

He slams the drawer shut with his foot—BANG—and the sound explodes through the kitchen. You flinch instinctively, shoulder curling inward. He laughs under his breath.

“No one else will touch you. Not after this. You think someone’s gonna want you after I’m done with you?” He gestures to you like you were trash. “They’ll see right through you, babe.”

He steps over your legs like they’re part of the floor, starts pacing in front of the fridge, cracking his knuckles, dragging his hand through his hair, muttering. His eyes are wild—glassy and glowing with something sick.

“You keep pretending you’re scared. But you’re not. Not really,” he says, smiling now, voice dipping into something slower, darker. “You like it when I get like this. You made those sounds for me, remember? The begging, the whimpering... the way you said my name when you couldn’t take it anymore.”

He crouches suddenly, right in front of you, and grabs your jaw—tight, fingers pressing into your cheeks.

“You remember that, don’t you?”

You try to pull away. He doesn’t let go.

“I own you. Every noise you make, every breath you take—that’s mine. You don’t get to run anymore. You had your little tantrum. Now?” His voice softens like silk. He stands again, towering above you, breath heaving, arms loose at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or kill you.

“Now you don't get to leave.”

“Please… just stop,” you whispered, voice raw, tears streaking your cheeks as your back pressed against the cold wooden kitchen counter. “You’ve had your fun.”

Jungwon didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head, eyes drinking in your trembling frame like it was art he couldn’t look away from.

“God,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and dark with something you couldn’t name. “You’re so damn pretty when you cry.”

You turned your face away, breath hitching.

Jungwon's hand shot out, fingers tangling harshly in your hair. He fisted it tight, yanking your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. The sudden, painful grip made you gasp, tears flying from your eyes as he wrenched you off your feet. Your knees scraped against the hardwood floor, sending jolts of stinging pain up your legs, but he showed no mercy.

"You don’t get to turn away from me," he growled, voice dripping with venom. 

Jungwon slammed you down onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, the breath whooshing out of your lungs at the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he had you by the hair again, bending you over the edge of the counter roughly. You felt the chill of the granite against your skin as he forced you to arch your back. "Look at you," Jungwon snarled in your ear, his voice a low, feral rumble. "What a sweet, trembling mess you are. You can't deny how much you fucking love this, can you? How much you've missed having me inside you, ruining you?"

He punctuated his words by grinding his hard, clothed erection against the curve of your ass. You could feel every thick inch of him, a whimper escaped your throat, equal parts fear and shameful, traitorous arousal.

"This is what you do to me," Jungwon growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. "This is the effect you have on me, you fucking tease. I've been thinking about this pussy, about burying myself in you."

He tore the delicate fabric of your panties without hesitation, the rip sharp in the silence. The ruined lace discarded, leaving you bare and shivering as the cold air kissed your exposed skin. His touch followed—fingers finding your slick heat, dragging through your folds with a rough, unrelenting rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. 

"You don't get to say shit," he hissed, "You don't get to deny me anymore. I'm going to take what's mine, over and over again until you're dripping with my cum."

You heard the frantic tug of his zipper, the hiss of fabric shoved down in haste—he was struggling, almost clumsy in his desperation. He couldn’t wait. The need to be inside you was written in every rushed movement, every uneven breath. Your mind was fogged, flooded with heat, and the sound of him losing control just made it worse. 

Jungwon's hips surged forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your core in one brutal thrust. A scream tore from your throat at the sudden, intense intrusion, your walls clenching desperately around his invading length. He didn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a hard, punishing pace as he bent over you from behind.

His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you completely.

"Fuck," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with lust and dark satisfaction. “You can hate me all you want. Doesn’t change how perfectly I fit in you.”

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rutted into you. The other snaked up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump and race. Your vision swam, head spinning as he fucked you with brutal intensity, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen.

“Beg all you want. I know exactly what you need.” Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be nothing left.” 

His fingers tightened around your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.  “You’re going to carry a reminder of me, one way or another.”

A surge of pure panic shot through you at Jungwon's dark promise. Your heart raced, pounding wildly against your ribs as his fingers tightened around your throat, restricting your airflow. You tried to shake your head.

"No," you gasped out, voice barely a whisper. "Please, Jungwon, don't. Pull out, please..."

But even as the words left your lips, you knew it was futile. Jungwon was beyond reason, beyond caring about your pleas and fears. He was driven by a singular, obsessive desire to claim and conquer.

Ignoring your desperate entreaty, he was fucking into you with brutal, animalistic intensity. The kitchen filled with the vulgar sounds of your coupling - the slap of skin on skin, your strangled cries, his grunts and growls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I can feel it," Jungwon snarled, his voice tight with impending release. “You feel that? The way you pull me in like you were made for this? Like your body already knows it belongs to me.” 

He punctuated his words with a harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt his cock jerk and pulse, growing even harder, impossibly bigger. Your eyes widened in terror and a sickening mix of reluctant arousal.

"Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't cum inside me. I don't want to..."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears. With a guttural roar, Jungwon slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his cock erupted. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his cum.

"Take it," he commanded harshly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you. "Take every last drop.”

You shuddered and sobbed as you felt his cum filling you up, your body instinctively clenching and milking his pulsing cock. The sheer depravity of it, the utter lack of control, sent a confusing surge of dark pleasure through you.

As Jungwon finally pulled out, you could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs.

You couldn’t move so you remained bent over the kitchen counter, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the cold granite surface below. Your body ached, used and abused in the most intimate way possible. The sticky evidence of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder of your defilement.

Behind you, Jungwon was already fixing his pants, tucking his spent cock away and smoothing down his shirt. He acted as if he hadn't just violated you, just taken something from you that you hadn't willingly given. As if this was an everyday occurrence, a simple transaction.

"Shut up," he barked harshly, silencing your muffled sobs and whimpers. “Did you really think someone would come running if you cried loud enough?”

You flinched at the biting words, then he was bending over you again, looming large and menacing. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head almost gently. For a moment, you thought he might caress you, soothe you. But then his fingers tightened, gripping your hair almost painfully as he wrenched your head to the side to force you to meet his gaze.

"You'll never be clean again," Jungwon whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Not after this. Not after me."

His eyes bored into yours, gleaming with a manic, possessive light. Before you could look away, his mouth was on you, his lips brushing against your forehead in a mockery of a tender kiss. A promise of something far darker.

And he was right, no matter how far you ran, how high you built your walls, or how many times you tried to cut him out—Jungwon always found a way back in. Like smoke slipping through the cracks, like a shadow that knew your every hiding spot. It didn’t matter how fiercely you tried to protect yourself. He would always find you, you knew the truth: you would never be safe from him. Not really. Not ever. 

[screamingintotheneverendingvoid]

John Carter x nurse!reader

Warnings: 18+ pls SMUT AHEAD!!! It might be my first time writing it, so it might not be great but it’s still smut!! PiV (no protection, please make smart choices in reality) grinding, making out, unrealistic car sex but hey we’re here to have fun, clit play, reader has a vagina/clit, riding, it’s a quickie but took me way too long to write.

A/N: This is my first dive into smut, I don’t know if it came out exactly as I wanted because I got a little nervous, I kind of want to make a part 2, but we’ll see how this does first. 😅 Anyway, it’s based around season 4, episode 15 because damn Carter, please take charge all the time.

-

You had just finished giving report to the next nurses to come in, or at least you all tried to, with the best of your ability in all of the chaos that still persisted from the night.

People were still trying to get things to ‘normal’ for the ER after the spill, and you honestly would’ve stayed longer to help, but you wanted to get home, shower, and crash.

… At least that’s what you told everyone, and sure, you did want to do that, but you couldn’t tell them that your skin was still buzzing with the images in your mind you had to push aside to do your job all night. Images of your boyfriend in the chaos of the night standing tall and taking charge without a second thought. He just did it. Not only did pride bloom in your chest as his partner for seeing the amazing job he did without protocols to follow, all the supplies he needed, and in less than perfect circumstances all around but seeing him seem to take charge so easily and running around person to person, helping anywhere and everywhere he could… it made you feel something you shouldn’t have felt in the middle of everything happening.

The flush of your face was the only thing that might have gave you away, but it could easily be explained away by the rush of the situation or at least that’s what you told yourself. Either way you decided to push those thoughts away at the time, but now they had time to burst free and run wild. So the sooner you could find John and get out of here, the better.

You let your eyes scan the parts of the ER you could see from where you stood before you started moving forward to the front desk, Jerry and a few others moving around it trying to find some sort of organization in the chaos it had became during the crisis. You walked over and leaned on the closest edge, “Jerry, have you seen John? It’s time for us to get off but I figured he must still be off helping somewhere…”

Jerry looked up from the stack of binders he was looking through, “Last I saw him he was in the doctor's lounge.”

You quickly nodded your thanks before heading off. That was a good sign, maybe he was ready to go and you wouldn’t be stuck having to take the train to his place and being in what felt like a form of torture until he got home.

You walked the few feet it took to get to the lounge and pushed the door open, being greeted by the back of your boyfriend.

Thank you universe.

He turned at hearing the door open and smiled the way he only did for you. You weren’t sure you could pinpoint what made it special to only you and no one else, maybe the fact you could tell that even though he was tired, and life hadn't exactly been easy for him lately, he still managed to reserve that little smile for you. You didn’t take a second of it for granted.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” He said grabbing your jacket out of the locker first, you walked over to him and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, and turned around so he could help you into your jacket.

“Yes, please. I thought I might have to drag you from this place.” You said it jokingly but you both knew it had happened before and was bound to happen again. He gently turned you back around to make sure your jacket was adjusted correctly before leaning in to touch your lips against his. You eagerly jumped at the opportunity to be closer to him, your hands immediately grabbing a hold of his shoulders to pull him closer, his hands found their way under your coat to your waist. You moved your lips to make the kiss deeper but he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help your frustrated groan, which just caused a smug expression to cross his lips, “Now what is that all about, hmm?” As he said it, you playfully whacked at his shoulder. “You did an amazing job today and I just think someone should show you some appreciation is that such a bad thing?” You tried to put on your most innocent of acts as you said it, knowing you meant it in no such way.

“No, no… I mean..” He started trying to stutter out but you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him on the lips before kissing his cheek, and then his jaw, and then his earlobe, “So put your coat on and hand me my bag, and grab yours, so we can get out of here and I can show my boyfriend just how appreciated he is.” You purred in his ear before teasingly pulling yourself out of where he still held you by the waist.

You felt pretty damn accomplished at how dumbfounded he looked at first before a goofy grin took over his face and he almost cartoonishly fast grabbed his jacket to put on over the scrubs he was still wearing after having to throw out his clothes earlier. He lifted his bag on to one shoulder and then slid yours over top of his, slamming the locker door shut, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket. He was by your side again in seconds and threw his free arm over your shoulder, “Please, let’s get out of here.”

—-

The walk to John’s jeep, while uneventful, felt like it took hours. You would glance over at John and just his beautiful profile in the night, the way his nose was outlined by the moonlight and his freckles put the stars to shame, was driving you absolutely nuts.

Once you got to the jeep, he unlocked the doors, went to your side to open your door for you, you pecked his cheek sweetly as you got in and he shut the door behind you. Then he opened the driver door, threw the bags in the backseat and got in.

You don’t think he was ready for what happened next. No, you know he wasn’t ready.

As soon as his door was shut, you more or less launched yourself at him, and it was his turn to let out a surprised yelp. You had intended to kiss him, but the sound he made caused you to burst out into laughter instead.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to scare you, but if I don’t kiss you right now I might exploded and that’s a medical diagnosis, you can look it up.” You know your words were cheesy but they had the intended effect in one, causing John to look at you like you might have two heads, and two, caused him to laugh. Which was really what you lived for, you truly believed that sound could cure anything. Someone should look into.

“I don’t remember learning that in medical school. Maybe it was just a nursing school thing?” He teased as he wrapped one arm around your waist pulling you fully into his lap, not the most comfortable in a car, but you could honestly careless right now as long as you were close to him. He laid his hand on your cheek, his fingers gently following the curve caressing the skin there.

He seemed to get very serious for a moment, those brown eyes you loved more than anything in the world just studied your features as if committing every detail to memory, “You are breathtaking.”

He whispered the words as he moved closer, savoring the moment until your lips touched again.

Your skin felt like it was buzzing all over again, or maybe it never really left, as you felt his tongue dancing over your lips and you happily granted it access. You had scrunched his green scrub top under one of your hands, your other hand already having a mind of its own, wandering to the edge of his top and ghosting your fingers at the soft skin of his abdomen. The inhale of breath he took at even the smallest of your touches gave you a satisfaction unlike any other. You broke away from his lips to drag your lips across his cheek, down to his jaw, down to his neck. Letting your hand wander a trail over his chest, then back down to his stomach carefully skating around where his pants started, you listened as his breathing would change and become a little heavier every time you would dip your hand a little lower. You started nipping at the skin at his neck, grinning against his skin as he groaned, “You’re just teasing me… why don’t you get in your seat so we can get to my apartment faster?” He said it while moving a hand on to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to rise where he touched, he only half heartedly attempted to remove you from your place on his neck.

“Who said we have to go to your apartment? Are you afraid of being caught in the parking deck? Doesn’t that make it a little more exciting.” You teased against his skin, and you know it had to be exciting to him to some extent because the scrub pants he was wearing did little to hide how hard and exciting this was.

You heard John sigh in ‘defeat’ as he seemed to finally have the idea to lean over and recline his seat back to make some room for the two of you. Honestly with how tall he was, you weren’t sure climbing in the backseat would be a better option at this point anyway, this jeep only had so much room.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming this entirely on you seducing me, I hope you know.” You heard the smile in his voice, but just happy he agreed you brought your face back up to his and crashed your lips back together, just taking a moment to cherish him. His taste, which right now was a little soapy with whatever they had hosed everyone down with during decontamination, but still very much him.

Now reclined you settled as best as you could with you knees on either side of his hips, not caring that clothing was still between you, you let your hips drop down on his and started a gentle rhythm grinding against him. Taking pride in the almost immediate moan you elicited from John, his hands flying to grip onto your hips.

“We’ll hurry, no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” You playfully whispered against his lips, letting your hands fall between the two of you, to quickly untie his scrub bottoms. You lifted your hips up for just a moment to be up to yank his bottoms down enough to free his cock. Awkwardly shifting around, relying on John’s help to get out of your own scrub pants and underwear, you let out a huff of frustration. Now realizing the thought of car sex was much smoother than the actual execution.

He must’ve thought your frustration was cute because he laughed as he left your pants a tangled mess at your ankles, now focused far more at looking at your face.

“Maybe it’s your head we should be worrying about, not mine?” His voice was now barely above a whisper, as those brown eyes bore into your soul, capturing every detail of you. You leaned back to prop yourself on his thighs, and leave a little room between you. “Maybe.” You shrugged as you took one of his hands that had found their way back to your waist and brung it up to your mouth, kissing along his wrist, following one of the veins and kissed along it until you got to the back of his hand. Then let yourself gently plant a kiss along each of his fingers. You didn’t let your eyes leave his for a second, and his attention was still all on you. His breath heaving, and you could audibly hear him swallow. You kissed your way back to his pointer finger before you took it into your mouth. He let out a deep groan as his head fell back against the seat. You let your tongue playfully swirl around it before letting it go with a pop.

You stalled for just a second while you debated what to do next, you wanted his fingers inside you but you didn’t really have the time. Quickies were fun but inconvenient, but you could continue your fun at home, because no way would this be nearly enough of him for you.

You leaned towards him in the reclined seat letting your entrance tease against his dick, causing you both to let out moans. John lifted his head up from the seat, hands bruising in their grip on your hips, as he let his lips find their way to your neck. “Please, baby…” he mumbled softly against your skin.

You knew you were plenty wet enough and just torturing you both at this point, so you reached down between you and made sure he was lined up with your entrance, and then you slid down onto him, the feeling as delicious as it had been the first time you had ever done it.

The ‘fuck’ John let out from his place against your neck was rewarding, he even bit down softly on the skin he was lavishing, and then began to suck a mark there.

Your moans were music to his ears as you started moving on top of him, setting a fast rhythm, that his hands seemed happy to help you keep.

You let your eyes fall closed as sensations quickly started taking over you, one of your hands gripped John’s shoulder tightly for support, the other stayed glued into his short locks, holding onto them to keep him as close to you as possible. You felt your orgasm close at hand, and you started to move your hand from John’s shoulder, but he stopped you, “May I?” He asked, never moving away from his place at your neck, he was addicted to it tonight it seemed. “Of course.”

He moved one hand from your waist to in between your bodies, and between your legs, and his fingers found your clit. As soon as he did you swore you almost saw stars.

He knew your body better than he knew any medical school text book and he would happily use that to his advantage anytime.

He kept up the motion around your clit, and you heard his breathing becoming heavier, almost in time with yours, “I’m about to-“ “Me too.” It was all the exchange you needed, he finally came up from his place at your neck, and found his way to your lips again, and when you came, his name was on your lips but it was muffled against his own. You felt him come moments after you, as you kept riding him through both your highs.

You both stilled and tried to catch your breath. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as he soothingly ran his hands across your back.

“Are you okay?” He softly asked.

“Of course, baby. Thank you for indulging me.” You planted a small kiss on his neck before lifting your face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. His sweet smile soothing to your entire soul.

“Good. Now I hate to interrupt our afterglow… but we should probably put on our pants and get back to my place.”

—-

tag : @omgbrianab

[sweetdispatch]

HII i have a bakery order! 8 pieces toffee baklava with maple syrup

thank youu

It wasn't me - M. Rempe

v' bakery pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader summary: You and Matt didn't like each other because of the situation from the past but when Matt overheard you, something broke in him and you two needed to have a serious conversation warning: swear words note: honourable mention to @lovings4turn because our conversation was inspiration for couple of the dialogues (but in different context than it used here‼️)

You were close friend with Matt’ sister. This meant that you also had been close with him, especially since you two were the same age. In summer, you’ve been hanging out a lot but there was tension between you and him. You always acted cool in front of your friends but you two clearly weren’t fans of each other and tried to avoid being alone. 

It all started when you rejected Matt a couple years ago. He asked you on a date and you declined his offer because his sister was your math tutor and you didn’t want to bring the weird energy. He didn’t take it well and spread rumours about you. You didn’t let him win and did the same thing. 

His sister forced you and Matt to get along with each other and it worked. You two apologised to each other but the bittersweet taste after this situation left. That’s why now, you’ve been pretending that you’re friends but in reality, there was a negative energy and none of you wanted to work it through. 

One time your friends did an intervention, trying to force both of you to talk but you just laughed it off. Since then, they never again tried to get you two to talk. They believed that when you grow up, you’ll have the conversation. Years went by and this never happened. You and Matt still were petty towards each other but acted like everything was fine. 

At a party, you’ve been talking with one of your friends. Your friends threw a welcoming party for Matt because he returned home from New York. He was happy to see everyone there and grateful for this gathering. You were rolling your eyes at his every word, not getting the hype of the party. That’s why you’ve been talking about it with your friend. 

“I’m so tired of his stupid ass” You said when you spotted Matt again. 

“Why? Matt’s just enjoying being back home” Your friend shrugged. 

“He’s acting like a total dick. He walked here like he was a top scorer and main star of the league when in reality he's the only fourth liner who fights because he can’t score” You explained to her unaware that Matt was behind you. 

“Look at me and repeat what you just said to my face” Matt said to you, standing behind you. Your friend disappeared in a moment to give both of you space.

“You heard me loud and clear” You told him and looked at his face. “You act like you just beat Ovechkin record when you didn’t even score five goals this year” 

“I kept my tongue for too long so let me tell you something” Matt started and came closer to you, trying to intimidate you. “You’re a fucking bitch. I hate having you in my life because since you appeared there, it’s been miserable by your presence”

“You know what? Fuck you! I’m sorry that I rejected you and now you’re a bitch about it but you’re the one who ruined our friendship” You pointed at him. “You’re the one who spread the rumours so you are the problem and not me” You told him and left the party. 

Matt was standing there dumbfounded. He was clueless about what rumours you are talking about because he never spread anything to drag you down. He asked your friends about it and when they explained to him, he realised what you meant. The realisation hit him and he knew that he had to tell you the side of the story. 

You weren’t answering your phone for days. You were mad at Matt that he had the dignity to call you a bitch when you did nothing wrong. You were mad at yourself that you said those words out loud. That's why you decided to cut yourself off your friends and just spend time by yourself. You were taking extra hours at work to keep your mind busy and have excuses. 

Matt tried to reach you out but you never answered your phone. That’s why he made a spontaneous decision to see you in your house. He knocked on your door and patiently waited for you to open him. When you saw him in front of your doors, you tried to close the door but he stopped you. 

“We need to talk” Matt told you. 

“You said enough” You fought him back.

“I wasn’t the one who spread the rumours” Matt said and you opened the door but didn’t let him in.

“What do you mean?” You asked him. 

“It was a guy from my class. I told him that you rejected me when I asked you out and he decided that it will be fun to start saying that you’re a whore. I had nothing to do with this. I’m not that petty” Matt said and you looked at him. 

“Let’s say I believe you. Why did you come to explain yourself to me when you called me a bitch earlier because, as I quote, I made your life miserable” You told him and saw that he took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for the words” Matt rubbed his neck. “I thought you just hated me for no reason but I get why you didn’t like me. The truth is that I still like you and it hurt me to see you around knowing that I’m your enemy so I matched your energy but hearing the words you said… something broke in me and I said bullshit. I’m sorry for that” 

“Apology accepted and I’m sorry too. Since we’re so honest with each other… I also spread rumours about you back in the day when I thought you did it to me, sorry for that” You shyly smiled. “And I’m sorry for saying those words at the party. It wasn’t fair to you but I was so mad for the past years over something that you haven’t done… Do you think we can rekindle our friendship?” You proposed. 

“I have an even better offer. Since my sister is not your tutor anymore… would you like to go on a date with me? We could have a normal conversation and have a nice time?” Matt asked, unsure of your reaction. 

“You know what, I would love that. Would you like to come in? I was about to start cooking dinner” Matt only nodded and walked into your house. 

At first, you two felt awkward in this situation but quickly, you felt more comfortable with each other. There’s been a lot of laughter and jokes between you two. Matt was telling you about his life in New York and you’ve been telling him about your job. It all felt so normal, like there was never before a problem. Both of you knew that this is a good sign for the future together.

[lilmarshie]

I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing about this sort of thing yet (I'm new here!), so please disregard this if you are, but...

I'd love to request something for Bob, where his crush or girlfriend or whatever (you can decide!) is kidnapped, and they can't actually find her right away. (I'm not a huge fan of "the bad guys never even stood a chance of getting outside, there was never even a threat." I like the worry! Make them sweat a lil and actually be concerned about finding you!) Obviously, though, it can have a happy, super fluffy ending. I'd just love to see our dorky little sweetheart being the one who gets to worry for once, and not just be the one everyone worries about.

Again, if this is not the sort of thing you're looking for, please just disregard!

Hidden Agendas Prologue

A/N: Thank you for the request, anon! I hope that you enjoy! I ended up turning this into a mini fic since I felt the format fit better. So stay tuned for the subsequent chapters coming out within the next few days or whenever I have time to post them.

Bob Reynolds x Journalist! Reader

‼️‼️ Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, violence ‼️‼️

Being an investigative journalist you were known city wide for your compelling and unique reporting. One day, you come across an organization that seems a bit suspicious, so you decide to look into it. Come to find out, this organization is dealing with some shady people, and have been for years now. You share your findings with Bob, fully knowing the risks of doing so, but you trust in his ability to help you if things went south.

“Sweetheart…you need to think about these stories you’re chasing after. I couldn’t bear to lose you because you’re going after a suspected terror organization…I can’t protect you all the time and I’m scared.” Bob confessed to you after you had explained to him that you found the organization’s secret hideout. “I know, my love. I understand the risks that come with this line of work. And I’ll call you if anything were to happen. You know that.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. Bob sighed and pulled you in close for a hug, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I love you. Please be careful.” He whispered, as he turned to look at you. Bob’s eyes were tired and he looked extremely worried. “I will. I love you too, sweetheart.” You promised, before kissing him again as you curled into his arms for bed that night.

Bob leaves for work early that day, and you start to get ready for work a little bit later that morning. As you are getting changed, you hear a crash and a thud coming from the living room. You instantly go into defensive mode and grab a small handgun from the side table and make your way to the source of the sound. Slowly but surely you make your way into the kitchen where you see that the tables and chairs are all thrown around and slammed up against the walls. As you proceed forward, all of a sudden a huge hand clamps over your mouth and you shriek in fright. A low and gruff voice sounds in your right ear, and says, “Shh…don’t want anyone gettin’ suspicious now do we, sweetheart?” Followed by a dark and evil sounding laugh, and then the world goes black.

You are taken from the apartment and Bob arrives home a few days later to a cryptic note and a ransacked apartment. “Fuck…fuck…no, no, no. Oh, y/n. Where are you? Who did this?” Bob screams, as he races through the entire apartment to see what clues he could find. He ran back over to take another look at the note which read, “Give us what we so desire and the journalist won’t get hurt. If you don’t give us what we want then they die.” signed, the Shadow Syndicate.

“The Shadow Syndicate? I knew they reached across seas but I never realized that they arrived here as well…” Bob thought quietly to himself, before running his fingers through his hair nervously. The Shadow Syndicate is a terrorist organization that operates on the fringes of society. This group is shrouded in secrecy and whispered rumors since no one truly knows what they stand for. They are experts in espionage, assassination, hacking, and psychological warfare, ensuring that any threat to their power is swiftly and silently neutralized. Their operations are meticulously planned and executed, leaving no trace behind.

This was going to be a mission that would be grueling and difficult but he would do anything to get you back home safely.

And he would stop at nothing until you were safe in his arms.

[veal-exe]

Good faith heads up bud!

Saying/typing the name of that spirit (the w word) is extremely bad practice/manners. It calls the thing straight to you, and those who read it. This creature -spirit is also part of a closed practice for north american natives (not sure just how widespread). This is especially true for folks living in the mountains and old growth forests (really anywhere close to where Old Spirits still reside)

Feel free to use things like "tulpa", or "the winter hunger" though !

I’m going to say this once, and you’re going to listen, because I am not your goddamn spiritual diversity hire, I am from the actual tribe. I am the so-called “North American Native (TM)” you are attempting to white-knight for, and it is laughable that you think you’re in any position to tell me what parts of my own culture I’m allowed to speak aloud.

I grew up partially on a reservation. I have family there. I was raised among people who live these stories. Not read them on Reddit. Not watched them in some shitty horror movie. Not studied them like butterflies pinned to a board. Lived them. And here you are, pulling this half-baked, spiritually colonized nonsense like you’re doing me a fucking favor by telling me not to say “Wendigo.”

Wendigo. There. I said it again. Loudly. Clearly. With full understanding of the name’s weight and meaning. And if that makes you clutch your little bundle of poached sage and scream into your Discord server, maybe just maybe you should take a step back and ask yourself why the hell you think you’re more qualified to speak for my culture than someone who is literally from it.

This whole “it’s bad manners to say it” thing? It’s not traditional. It’s not sacred. It’s not protective. It’s a bastardized superstition passed around by white and non-Native people who’ve taken bits and pieces of closed practices and Frankenstein’d them into something that feels spooky and important, but is not ours. That’s not how we treat stories. That’s not how we treat our dead. That’s not how we treat our gods, spirits, or monsters. That’s how you treat them like fragile little curses in jars you’re too scared to look at.

You’ve taken a real cultural being, tied deeply to starvation, betrayal, trauma, the collapse of kinship under colonial violence, and turned it into Beetlejuice with antlers ooOOOooo don't say it's naaaAAAaaameee. And now you want to pretend you're protecting us from it? You want to "warn" me?

Do you know how fucking arrogant that is?

You are warning a Native person not to speak their own stories out loud because it makes you uncomfortable. You are telling someone who lives this culture that they need to use euphemisms. As if the problem with how MY myths are mistreated is that people say the name too directly and not, oh I don’t know, that non-Native people like you have decided you’re the keepers of it.

Let me explain something to you: the actual danger isn’t saying the name. It’s the erasure. It’s the constant silencing. It’s the fetishization. It’s the spiritual cosplayers like you who are so desperate to feel close to something ancient and powerful that you drape yourself in pieces of our stories like a cheap Halloween costume and then have the gall to scold us when we speak.

What you are doing is not reverent. It is not protective. It is not in good faith. It’s paternalistic, performative bullshit, and I am tired of it. I am tired of white people and non-Native people and people with native great grandparents they never knew who have never stepped foot in their nations treating Native culture like a haunted forest they get to gatekeep, while we, the actual people, are left outside, being told how to interact with our own spirits by people who learned everything they know from Tumblr threads and "NativeLore420" YouTube videos.

You want to talk bad manners? Bad manners is correcting a Native person on their own terminology.

Bad manners is assuming we are so fragile and backwards that the mere utterance of a syllable will doom us all.

Bad manners is inserting yourself into spiritual spaces you have no right to and then turning around and tone-policing the people who do.

And I know you’ll say, “I was just trying to help!” But no, you weren’t. You were trying to be seen as more respectful than the Native person actually speaking. You were trying to look like a protector of culture without ever actually having to live it, carry it, or be harmed by the ways it’s been twisted and lost.

You do not carry the fear. You do not carry the hunger. You do not carry the history. You do not carry the right.

So

sit

the

FUCK

down

and do not ever try to correct me again on what I can or cannot say about my own goddamn culture. You don’t get to decide what is sacred. You don’t get to decide what is safe. You don’t get to decide what names I say out loud.

Shut the Fuck up.

Also, 'Tulpa' IS appropriation! not only are they different, but 'Tulpa' is an appropriated term! The fucking irony!

[vvinterr]

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Angst, cheating, JJK

Chapter 1

He was your first love, and you hoped the last one. He was not only handsome but kind and made you laugh all the time. Honestly, you couldn't believe you had such an amazing boyfriend. It was overwhelming how much you loved him. You really thought this fairytale would last forever. Until something shifted, changed, and crumbled in your relationship. You didn't notice at first the cracks on the surface of your relationship. Missed call one evening, ignored message on morning after. Maybe he was busy, you thought. Then cracks started getting bigger. You only see him in the mornings now because of sudden tasks at work.

You refuse to let yourself believe that your loving husband could betray you. So you try to ignore cold and ugly feeling of loneliness, which grows day by day. And now you are sitting in the kitchen waiting for him to return home. It is already past midnight, dinner cold and untouched. You were together five years by now. When you met him the first time, you thought he was too loud, his presence a bit overwhelming, not to mention he also looked like someone who might break your heart. But Satoru was persistent in pursuing you, and eventually, you gave in. The sound of turning key pulls you out of your memories. You flinch and wait for him to come in. His quiet steps stop when he sees you in the kitchen.

- Oh, sweetheart, what are you doing this late? - he asks you with a surprised look on his face, hair disheveled.

- Waited for you, though we could have a dinner together - you simply said, shifting your gaze to the wooden surface of the table.

- Why are you so late, Satoru? - you say with quite voice.

- I got caught in work, sorry I should have warned you I would be late. There is so much stuff going on in the office, - he says, trying to soun nonchalantly. Like everything is fine, like there is no growing distance between you.

- Again? Satoru, it has been months since we had dinner together, I barely see you now, and we live together - you say, sudden rage grabbing you by the throat.

- Babe, let's not do this now again. We can talk about it tomorrow, I promise - he says, running hand over his hair. He sounded slightly irritated, like you were unreasonable. The same thing happened a week ago when you tried to talk to him.

- When, Satoru? Let's talk now, tell me what's going on - your voice cracked.

Your loving boyfriend sighs heavily and sits beside you. For a while, none of you says a word. You patiently look at him, urging, begging with your eyes to open up, explain, apologize - to do anything so you both could solve this and back to how you used to be.

But Satoru doesn't see your watery gaze, doesn't react right away. Then he takes your hands in his, cradling them, like he is trying to sooze you.

- It just, I am tired, you know. Everything is hectic right now at the office, our company is preparing for the big deal, and I can't slack on it. And I am sorry for making you feel neglected, I promise I will make up for it - he looks at you finally, seeking understanding, his cerulean eyes piercing with guilt.

- I don't know Satoru. You have been so distant lately, I can't even imagine what's going on in your head right now. If there's something you want to tell me, something I should know, please tell me now - your eyes shining with tears, threatening to fall, as you search your boyfriend eyes to reveal hidden truth.

- There is nothing I hid from you, you can trust me - Satoru says with reassuringly squeezing your hands.

- I promise I will fix everything, you don't need to worry - he says.

You really want to believe him, so after your teary outburst, he is cradling you in bed until you fall asleep peacefully for the first time in a while. In the morning, you both have breakfast together, first one in a while too. Your aching heart starts to calm down. You will be alright, it's just a faze, you say to yourself, feeling energetic now. Maybe you should stop by him at lunchtime and surprise him, you think.

You decide to do so, and now you are at the Satoru's office, with lunch in hand. Usually, Satoru always had his lunch in the office, so this time sure wasn't an exception. At the reception you are greeted by the secretary, Satoru's coworker, Ichiji. He informs you that Satoru is occupied with visitors and suggest to wait for him. You sat by his cabinet, from where you hear faint voices. A few minutes after the door opens and you see your boyfriend accompanied by an aged man and young woman. They were laughing at something. At first, they didn't notice you engaged in conversation.

- I am glad we came to an agreement. Everything should go smoothly from no on - with a satisfied smile said unknown man.

- I am glad too, we should celebrate our deal, after all regulations of course - politely smiled Satoru.

- Yeah, we totally should! You know Satoru, we could go to that restaurant we discovered last time - beamed a young woman.

Satoru smiled in response, and then his gaze stopped on you, his smile faltering.

- Oh, it's already a lunchtime. We will catch up later, Mr. Sakana, miss - he slightly bowed to the man and woman.

- But I thought we could have lunch together, - said she with a pout on a pretty face.

- Hello, Satoru, - you decided to reveal yourself, eyes catching intently watching your boyfriend.

- Hello, sweetheart, - Satoru answered with an awkward smile.

Woman's mouth made an 'o' figure as her eyes were darting between you two.

[divana-aa]

Hoodoo Ain’t for Everybody — And That’s Okay

As someone who walks the path of Hoodoo—not because I found it online, but because it lives in my blood, my bones, my people—I feel it’s time to speak plainly.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a shift. I’m not the only one. More and more folks in the Hoodoo community, especially Black folks who’ve inherited this work through our families or come to it through ancestral callings, are speaking up about something that’s been sitting heavy on our hearts: Hoodoo is being treated like it’s open to everybody. And that’s a problem.

Let me be real clear: Hoodoo is Black American folk magic. It was born out of slavery, survival, resistance, and deep spiritual knowledge carried from Africa and blended with what our ancestors could find and use in a world built to crush them. It’s not a trend. It’s not “just magic.” It’s not interchangeable with witchcraft or Wicca or whatever new aesthetic is popular this week.

This is our tradition. It was built in the shadows of plantations and backwoods kitchens. It was whispered between grandmothers and aunties, handed down in prayers, in oils, in roots, in the way we survived when nothing was left to hold onto but God and grit.

And now, it’s all over the internet.

Non-Black folks are selling jar spell kits labeled “Hoodoo.”

People with no connection to the culture or history are making content, writing books, and calling themselves rootworkers.

Things that used to be sacred are now trending hashtags.

It don’t sit right. It shouldn’t sit right.

The truth is, more of us are starting to say: we want Hoodoo to be a closed practice again.

Not because we’re trying to gatekeep out of spite—but because we are tired. We are tired of seeing the sacred used carelessly. We are tired of seeing folks profit off our culture while ignoring our history. And we are tired of having to constantly explain that you don’t get to choose to practice Hoodoo the way you choose a new hobby.

This work comes with ancestors. It comes with accountability. It comes with pain and power that can’t be separated from Blackness.

And yes, we’re protective. We have every right to be.

So here’s what I’m asking, if you’re reading this and you’re not part of the Black community but you’re drawn to Hoodoo:

Sit with why.

Is it because you want power without responsibility?

Is it because it looks cool on social media?

Or is it because you’re longing for connection—and maybe you need to find it in your own roots, your own ancestors, your own folk traditions?

Because Hoodoo ain’t for everybody. And that’s not hate—it’s protection.

We protect this work because it protects us.

Because our grandmamas didn’t fight to keep it alive just to see it turned into a gimmick.

Because our spirits, our roots, our ancestors deserve better than exploitation.

If you care about Hoodoo, respect it enough to leave it to the people it belongs to.

If you’re a practitioner, speak up. Set boundaries. Keep the sacred sacred.

We don’t need permission to reclaim what’s ours. And we don’t owe anyone access to our medicine.