#if youre wondering what i thought that line was about before

[calicoheartz]

hi could u pls write about Paige comforting and helping reader who tries but can’t get her grades up and just feels overwhelmed due to some friendship issues too pls ? You could do different parts or a fic abt this would be rlly nice pls 💐💐

Whispers of Comfort ; Paige Bueckers

꣑୧ — summary | just paige comforting you with your personal struggles 💌💐❤️‍🩹

wc ; 900

— warnings | tw mentions of depression , anxiety , mental health , angst (has a happy ending dw!!)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : this is somewhat similar to one of my other fics that you can read here , so I tried to add a different spin on it! Enjoy :)

The fluorescent lights of the university library cast a harsh glow over the hunched figure buried in textbooks and notes. That figure was you, desperately trying to make sense of the chaos of academics that seemed determined to swallow you whole. Yet, despite your best efforts, the numbers on your latest exam paper stared back at you with cruel finality—another failure in a long line of disappointments.

Your heart sank in remembrance of the unfortunate outcome of the test you studied hours for, the test you dedicated to studying for almost 3 weeks in advance. Your heart sank as the weight of inadequacy settled in your chest, suffocating you with each labored breath. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold back the overwhelming tide of despair threatening to consume you whole.

“Hey, mind if I join you?”

You quickly recognized the sweet and gentle voice, startled, you looked up to find your girlfriend standing right before you, with a concerned look marring her brow. Her presence alone was enough to ease the tightness in your chest, offering a small glimmer of hope amidst the uneasiness and darkness that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Paige..” you managed to stutter out, your voice echoing with emotion. “I didn’t expect to see you here, I thought you were at home?”

A sympathetic smile graced the blondes lips, as she took the seat opposite of you, as her eyes filled with genuine concern.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts, so I figured you’d be here. I couldn’t help but wonder what was on your mind.” she said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. “Is everything okay?”

Paige knew you had struggled this year academically, but she never knew to what extent. You were ashamed to ask her for help, I mean compared to her you’re only a fraction of her success. While she’s an all american academic, juggling both sports and her studies, you were even struggling to pass a simple quiz or project. Which in term made it very difficult to ask her for help, afraid she would realize that you weren’t worth her time.

It’s almost as if the floodgates collapsed, the weight of your burdens spilling out a torrent of pent-up emotions. You poured your heart out to Paige, confessing the struggles that had plagued you for weeks - the sleepless nights spent studying, the countless hours wasted in a fruitless pursuit of academic perfection, the forgotten and skipped meals, everything seeming to slowly creep up onto you all seemingly at once.

Paige listened intently, offering words of comfort and trying to understand as you bared your soul into her. In her presence, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable soul that lay beneath the facade of strength you had so carefully constructed.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get my grades up. And on top of that, I'm having issues with my friends..."

Your words trailed off, a sense of helplessness washing over you as you struggled to articulate the depth of your despair. Paige reached out, her hand intertwining between yours in a gesture of solidarity that sent warmth spreading through your veins.

"You're not alone, you know," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to the wounds of self-doubt that had long plagued your spirit. "We all face challenges in life, but it's how we confront them that defines who we are. You're doing the best you can, and that's all anyone can ask for."

Her words resonated with you, striking a chord deep within your soul as you looked into her eyes and saw the unwavering belief reflected there. In Paige's presence, you found the strength to confront the demons that had held you captive for so long, emboldened by the knowledge that you were not alone in your struggles.

Together, you and Paige embarked on a journey of self-discovery, navigating the treacherous waters of academia and interpersonal relationships with unwavering determination. With each passing day, you found solace in each other's company, drawing strength from the unbreakable bond that had formed between you.

As the weeks turned into months, you began to see glimpses of progress—small victories that served as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. With Paige by your side, you faced each challenge head-on, armed with the unwavering belief that together, you could overcome anything life threw your way.

And in the quiet moments shared between late-night study sessions and heartfelt conversations, you discovered something far more precious than academic success or fleeting friendships. You found solace in each other, a bond forged in the crucible of adversity, bound by the unbreakable ties of love and understanding.

In Paige's arms, you found refuge from the storm raging within, a sanctuary where the burdens of the world melted away in the warmth of her embrace. And as you leaned into her, basking in the glow of her unwavering affection, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, united in a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

For in the midst of chaos, you had found peace, and with the love of your life Paige, you had found home.

we love good girlfriend Paige !! i want a paige in my life 🥴😞 as always , thank you for reading !!

psa ! if u are struggling w mental health my dms are always open 💗 rmb that ur so loved by me and so many others

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[marnikula]

i loved the reader who cant say no trope :') i used to be that way

CAN WE GET READER WHO IS SUPER ASSERTIVE AND HAS A THING FOR SPENCER WHO IS JUST LIKE IN BAMBOOZLES OF READER BEING SO COMFORTABLE SAYING NO AND BEING STRAIGHTFORWARD 🙏🙏

SIMP

I could not think of any way to write this well for a few days, so sorry for the late reply. Also, if you are reading this and you made a request, I promise I am getting to it, I've just been a bit swamped with work and writing this post.

Now then, no real warnings except some cringe in the way that reader relentlessly simps after Reid.

✨Enjoy!✨

Your first meeting with Spencer Reid was something he would never be able to forget, even with his eidetic memory. You waltzed up to him after one of his guest lectures with such confidence that he stood to the side, thinking that you would pass by him. But you didn't. You stopped in front of him, speaking words that he would have never had the courage to utter to someone: "Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"

He remembers seeing the way your friends cringed behind you, the pick up line that left your lips clearly having made them uncomfortable. When he thought that you would move on after seeing the blush spreading all the way from his toes to his ears, thinking that maybe you coming to flirt with him was a dare, but you didn't. Instead, you uttered another sentence that he could feel himself cringe to as well, but you didn't seem to mind, your eyes too filled with determination to be put off by his facial expression at your request. "I lost my phone number, can I have yours?" He genuinely thought you were joking, but then you held out your phone to him.

In a stupor of confusion, Spencer entered his contact details, waiting for the punchline to come, proving that this truly was some sort of joke. Throughout the whole interaction he was wondering how someone as attractive as you would decide to come up to him of all people and used lines that not even Morgan had the guts to use to try and flirt with him.

It took a few weeks of you consistently sending him pick up lines along with good morning messages and invites to a date before he decided to ask Morgan for advice. It wasn't helpful. His friend had simply laughed in disbelief when told the story and was rendered speechless when he read the messages exchanged between you, most of them from your side. Spencer decided to go for it, after all, what was the worst that could happen, you hit him with another pick up line?

_____________________________________________________________

It was worse, so much worse. When he arrived at the designated spot to find you before going to the movies he was met with a bouquet of red roses with branches of baby's breath spread in between. It was a beautiful arrangement he greatly appreciated, but the fact that you gave it to him the moment he stepped out of his car and into your view, as well as the fact that it was a very public display of affection sent Spencer reeling into a stuttering and blushing mess.

The movie you picked out was a romantic comedy, and although Spencer laughed quite a lot, he could not really enjoy the movie itself, too focused on the fact that you held his hand the moment the two of you sat down. It truly baffled Spencer how you could be so nonchalant about how you approached him, you did things he would not have even imagined in his wildest dreams to have the confidence to do.

At dinner, you decided to take him to your favorite restaurant. It was a quaint Italian place a few blocks down from the movie theater. The whole walk there you were full of energy, talking to him and listening to him spew random facts about things that happened in the movie. Your eyes held such pure adoration he wondered if he might have hung the stars in the sky without even realizing it.

______________________________________________________________

Spencer enjoyed his evening with you more than he ever had with anyone else he had gone out with before. As he lay in bed, thinking about the kiss you planted solidly on his cheek after he dropped you off at your apartment he wondered again how it was possible for someone so bright and confident to be as interested in him as you were.

As he drifted off to sleep, Reid wondered where this unfolding relationship with you would take him, and he could truly say that he was excited to see what would happen.

[thewulf]

Through Your Eyes || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I'm thinking a military TF 141 reader where she and Ghost are tiptoeing the line between friendship and something more (you write it soooo well!) and maybe one night she's just feeling lonely/homesick - she really only sees the guys anymore since they're always working - so she decides to get a lil tipsy in her room... Read Rest Here

A/N: Probably the most OOC Ghost we'll see but idc he's soft and I love it. Enjoy!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 9.5k + (They keep getting longer lmao)

TW: Drinking our issues away

In the quiet confines of your room on base the night stretches out like a silent, unending void. England, with its overcast skies and endless drizzle, feels worlds away from the sun-drenched horizons of your hometown in America. Here the walls are a dull grey. The only decoration a faded photograph of your family, smiling. A stark reminder of what you’ve left behind.

You sit on the edge of your narrow bed with a glass of whiskey cradled in your hands. The ice was slowly melting, mirroring the monotonous drip of time passing. The soft buzz of the base’s nighttime activities filters through your closed door. It was a constant reminder that life goes on even when parts of you have stalled.

Loneliness clings to you like a second skin. Homesickness gnaws at your insides. The jokes shared and the meals eaten together are supposed to bring comfort, but tonight they're not enough. The laughter feels distant. The smiles seem forced through your filter of sadness. You miss the ease of being understood in your own home. The comfort of familiar streets. The casual meetups with friends who knew you before you were a soldier.

Most of all you miss the simple, irreplaceable connections that once filled your days. You long for the nights out with your girlfriends, their laughter and stories echoing in your ears. A drastic difference to the tactical discussions that now dominate your evenings. The absence of your mother's voice, once a daily comfort, now feels like a missing chord in the symphony of your life. It’s not like you didn’t try and talk with her but the time difference made it nearly impossible.

The loneliness is compounded by the intimacy you crave but lack. You longed for a partner to share quiet moments with. Someone whose mere presence could turn the coldest nights warm. Here, among soldiers, your vulnerability remains hidden. Your longing for tenderness a silent scream in the night.

Lately you’ve found yourself envying Captain Price. Whenever he talks about going home to his family, a pang of jealousy tightens your chest. He returns to love, to embraces, to conversations that have nothing to do with war. His normalcy seems like a distant dream, and you crave it with every fiber of your being.

As the whiskey warms your throat it brings a slight haze to your thoughts. A part of you wonders if you made the right decision. Did you trade your past and your peace for a purpose that now feels too heavy to shoulder alone? The drink wasn’t soothing like you craved. Instead, it sharpened the edges of your solitude. It highlighted the deep yearning for something, or someone, to call home.

As the evening stretches into the deeper hours of the night your thoughts begin to swirl as much as the whiskey in your glass. Desperate for a distraction from the creeping melancholy you find yourself reaching for your phone. A dangerous idea forming amidst the softening edges of your loneliness.

The glow of your phone screen seems harsh against the dim lighting of your room. Scrolling through your contacts your thumb hovers over Ghost's name. He’s always been solid, dependable. Perhaps too much so, you think, a slight smile playing at the edges of your lips. With a reckless flicker of courage fueled by the whiskey warming your veins you tap out a somewhat flirty message. A far cry from your usual sober texts. Evening, Ghosty. Bet you can't guess what I’m up to right now…

You hit send before you can second guess yourself.

Seconds tick by, morphing into the longest minute as you stare at the screen. Your heart racing as you wait for a reply. Instead of a text though your phone starts buzzing underneath your fingertips. Ghost is calling you! Panic and excitement flutter in your chest. This isn't what you expected. You decline the call without a second though setting it face down as if it could hide your sudden nerves.

But the phone buzzes again almost immediately, Ghost’s name flashing insistently. He’s not giving up. He’d never give up if you didn’t answer now. That just wasn’t his nature. Taking a deep breath, you flip the phone back over and press answer before bringing it up to your ear. "Hey," your voice is more playful than intended, the alcohol lending you a bubbly tone.

"Everything alright?" Ghost's voice is laced with concern. His usual calm edged with tension.

"Yeah, just couldn’t sleep," you giggle not realizing how tipsy you actually were. It was a sound that feels both foreign and delightful to your ears.

"You sure? It’s not like you to text like this... this late." His probing is gentle. But you can sense him on edge trying to read the situation.

"I’m perfectly fine, Ghosty," you drawl out the nickname only he would let you use with a teasing lilt, stretching the words playfully.

"Are you drunk?" His tone a tinge worried mixed with a faint amusement.

"No!” You reply immediately but after silence on the other side of the line you continue. “Maybe just a smidge tipsy," you admit. You heard him exhale sharply on the other end—part relief, part exasperation.

There's a brief pause before his laughter filters through, easing the tension on his side of the line. "Alright then, I’m coming over. Don’t move."

"Oh no! you don’t have to! I’m just enjoying a bit of liquid courage," you protest him. Your words dancing with mock seriousness.

"I think I better check on you in person. Stay put," he commands softly. A firm undercurrent in his voice that brooks no argument.

"Okay," you acquiesce with your tone still light, teasing. As you hang up a smile tugs at your lips. Maybe what you really needed wasn’t to dull the ache of loneliness but to stir a bit of excitement. And who better than Ghost to share that with?

When you first joined Task Force 141 the transition was expected to be challenging, especially with the unit's tight-knit and often closed-off nature. However, what no one anticipated was the immediate and inexplicable closeness that formed between you and Simon Riley, your Ghosty.

From the outset, Ghost, known for his stoic demeanor and laser-focused professionalism took an uncharacteristically soft approach with you. It was as if he sensed you needed a mentor, or perhaps something within him responded to your arrival on a level he hadn't anticipated. His usual reserve melted somewhat in your presence. His guidance more patient and his words often tinged with a protective tone. This shift in him didn't go unnoticed. It raised eyebrows among the rest of TF 141, sparking whispers and speculation. Even Ghost himself seemed taken aback by his own behavior as if he was watching himself from a distance unable to reconcile this newfound softness with his hardened warrior persona.

You brought something different to the team. You brought a warmth and a kindness that radiated naturally. Your approach to handling both the missions and interpersonal relationships within the unit was refreshingly human. Where others respected Ghost for his tactical brilliance and saw him as a near-unflappable soldier. You engaged with him as a person first and foremost. You asked him questions about his day, showed interest in the small details. And sometimes you just offered a quiet presence when words were too cumbersome.

This human connection was something Ghost hadn't realized he was missing until you arrived. Your sweetness, your unguarded way of interacting not just with him but with everyone, gradually broke down the walls he had built around himself. You saw beyond the mask—both literal and metaphorical—to the complex man beneath. It was this genuine understanding and acceptance from you that deepened his affection and protectiveness. It fostered a friendship that was both surprising and profoundly meaningful.

In your interactions Ghost found a sanctuary in you. Each dialogue, each shared silence, reinforced something vital between the two of you. A sense of belonging and mutual respect that neither of you had anticipated but both secretly yearned for. Ghost's initial decision to take you under his wing, driven by an instinctive pull, blossomed into a relationship where both of you found solace, understanding, and ultimately a love that neither the harshness of your environment nor the specter of past wounds could diminish.

The wait for Ghost to come to your room feels almost interminable. Each minute ticking by slower than the last as the shadows in your room seem to deepen, mirroring your mood. Just as you start to second-guess your impulsive invitation a soft knock at the door jolts you from your somber thoughts. It's a sound too gentle for someone like Ghost whose presence is usually more commanding. But then again, he's always full of surprises.

You pad over to the door, your steps hesitant, and open it to find him there. His posture rigid, familiar balaclava in place, his eyes immediately searching yours for signs of distress. "Hey, Tex," he greets with a softness that belies the hardness of his profession. Using the nickname that feels like a balm and a sting all at once.

It was cute, the origin of the nickname only he used on you. One evening after a long day of training with TF 141 you and Ghost found yourselves alone tasked with checking and maintaining equipment. The work was meticulous and quiet offering a rare opportunity for more personal conversation. A rarity given the usual intensity of your environment.

As you both worked the conversation naturally drifted to lighter topics and you shared a humorous story about a road trip mishap you had years ago. You ended up mistakenly driving into Texas instead of your intended destination due to a mix-up with GPS directions. You recounted the events with such animated detail and humor. Making sure to mention how you ended up enjoying some of the best barbecue and meeting some incredibly friendly locals that it left a lasting impression on you.

Ghost listened intently with a rare smile playing on his lips as he worked. When you jokingly concluded that you might have been a Texan in another life because of how seamlessly you blended into the culture during your unintended visit, Ghost chuckled. It was a sound so scarce it marked the significance of the moment.

From then on he started calling you "Tex" in a teasing yet affectionate manner. It was his way of referencing that story which had not only entertained him but also revealed your ability to adapt and find joy in unexpected situations. The nickname stuck between the two of you as it became a symbol of your resilience and the easy friensdship that had developed between the two of you.

Each time Ghost called you "Tex” it was with a tone that mixed fondness and a hint of admiration reminding both of you of that shared moment of laughter and your storytelling prowess. This private joke between you became a subtle yet constant affirmation of the bond you were building. A bond based on shared stories, mutual respect, and an emerging deep, personal connection.

"Hi, Ghosty," you manage with your voice barely above a whisper. You step aside to let him in, but as you do, the use of 'Tex' makes your heart clench painfully. Your smile falters, a frown etching itself across your face as you're vividly reminded of what you're missing.

He notices the shift in your demeanor immediately. The way your eyes dart away from his gaze. "What's going on?" he asks as he steps inside making sure to close the door behind him with a quiet click. His voice is low, laced with a concern that makes your heart ache even more. "It's not like you to drink alone, without us," he adds. His tone soft but probing. This observation hits a nerve. Highlighting how out of character your actions seem tonight.

You can't meet his eyes, not yet, not when they're so filled with worry and understanding. "It’s my brother's birthday today," you confess with your voice cracking slightly. "I got a picture from my family. They're all there, celebrating... and I’m here." The words hang heavy in the air laden with a sadness that feels too big to contain.

Ghost steps back a little giving you space. "Let's sit down," he suggests gently nodding towards your bed. You move to sit on the edge, and he joins you. He maintained a respectful distance with his posture open and inviting you to continue.

You finally glance over at him and the tears that you've been holding back start to blur your vision. "I miss them, Ghost. I miss being part of those moments. It feels like I’m losing time, losing them..."

He listens in silence, but his presence was steady. "You’re not losing them, Tex. Not really. But I get it… it’s hard to miss out. You belong here with us though. It’s okay to wish you were there too."

At his words a ripple of uncertainty courses through you. "Do I really belong?" you find yourself questioning aloud. The words spilling out before you can hold them back. Your voice is tinged with an unusual vulnerability you’re so good at hiding, "Sometimes I feel like I'm a world away, like I don't quite fit anywhere anymore."

Ghost turns to look at you completely. His gaze intense even through the shadows cast by his balaclava. Noticing the sadness deepening in your eyes he softens his tone further addressing you more personally. "I know it feels that way sometimes, Y/N," he acknowledges using your first name in a rare break from nicknames signaling his serious concern. "But you've made a place for yourself here, with us. It’s not just about the missions. It’s about the moments we share, the tough days we get through together. You’re as much a part of this team as anyone is."

His reassurance carries weight, but the hollow feeling doesn’t dissipate completely. You nod, appreciating his effort to make you feel included. Yet part of you still wrestles with the feeling of displacement. It's comforting to have someone who understands, who sees the struggle and still stands by your side affirming your place even when you doubt it yourself. Tonight, Ghost isn't just a shadowy figure or a call sign. He's the anchor you didn't realize you needed.

The room grows quieter, the only sound the distant hum of the base's nocturnal life. You reach for the whiskey glass that had been forgotten during the initial turmoil of Ghost's arrival. Tilting the glass, you take a long, deliberate drink seeking the false courage it offers. The burn a temporary distraction from the ache inside.

Ghost watches you for a moment. His expression is unreadable behind the balaclava, yet his eyes—a deep well of understanding—never leave your face. “It’s okay to feel lost sometimes, Y/N. It doesn’t mean you’re alone,” he finally says with a soft but firm voice.

You nod, feeling the alcohol loosen your tongue and the tightness in your chest. "I just feel so guilty all the time, Ghost," you admit before setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "Everyone here has been nothing but supportive, and here I am upset because I missed a birthday party across the ocean."

He shifts slightly turning to face you more directly. There’s a pause, a breath of a moment where he seems to be choosing his words carefully. "Guilt is a heavy burden to carry, Y/N. And it’s a familiar one to me too. We've all had moments when we felt like we're not giving enough. Not present enough for those we left behind."

Seeing him open up about his own struggles is unexpectedly comforting. It's rare for Ghost to talk about his feelings and even rarer still to admit any weakness. His willingness to share that with you now tightens something in your throat.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it," you whisper unsure if you actually wanted him to hear your admission.

He reaches out to you. His hand hesitating in the air before gently landing on your shoulder. It was a small, uncharacteristic gesture of comfort. "We chose this life because we believed in something greater than ourselves," he starts. His voice steady. "Doesn't make the personal sacrifices any lighter, but it does give them meaning. And Y/N, you bring your own meaning to this team. More than you know."

Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over despite your best efforts. You're not usually this open, this raw, but with him, it feels safe, necessary even. "I just miss being sure of things, you know? Being sure of where I belong, sure of who needs me..."

Ghost nods, his hand squeezing your shoulder slightly. "I get that. But here’s what I’m sure of—you're needed here, more than you might see. Not just as a soldier, but as you, Y/N. Just by being here you make things better for everyone. For me."

Your breath hiccups at his words, at the honesty and the raw edge in his voice. In this quiet, vulnerable space, you both share more than just words. You share understanding, burdens, and silently, the beginning of something deeper, something neither of you might fully grasp yet. As the conversation drifts into a comfortable silence, you realize that tonight you didn't just find a confidant in Ghost. You found a mirror for your own vulnerabilities, and perhaps, a reason to keep fighting. Not just for the missions but for these moments of unexpected connection.

Tears trickle down your cheeks, unchecked and unbidden as Ghost's words sink deep. His affirmation, his understanding, it hits a part of you that's been raw and exposed for far too long. He looks at you. His eyes softening under the rim of his balaclava and it's as if he sees right through to the heart of your pain.

"Come here, love," he murmurs. His voice a gentle command that stirs something deep within you. He opens his arms and it's an invitation you can't resist—not tonight. You move almost instinctively. Your body responding before your mind can catch up. You find yourself climbing into his lap without so much as a second thought. His arms encircle you, strong and sure, and you melt into him. His chest is a solid wall against your cheek, you breathe him in, the faint scent of gunpowder and mint somehow reassuring and exactly what you needed.

He's so much bigger and stronger than you. An immovable presence that you've only ever admired from a distance. And he's Ghost—your not-so-secret crush, the man behind the mask, whose face you've never seen but whose soul you felt like you completely understood. As his arms tighten around you, holding you close, it's more than comfort. It's a need fulfilled. The simple yet profound need to be held, to feel wanted, to have someone not just willing but wanting to hold you.

You let yourself be held by him. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear a soothing rhythm in the chaos of your emotions. His hand strokes your back gently. A soothing contrast to the strength of his arms, and you feel safe, protected in a way that goes beyond physical safety. Ghost isn't just a teammate, or a mysterious figure shrouded in intrigue. He's the person who understands your loneliness, your longing, and meets it with his own kind of longing. A connection that perhaps he's been craving too.

The weight of everything—the base, the missions, the distance from home—seems to lift slightly making room for something new, something hopeful. As you nestle closer, letting yourself sink into the warmth and strength of his embrace. You realize that this closeness is something you've been missing. Something you've been needing without even knowing it. And maybe, just maybe, he needed it too.

Cuddled securely in Ghost's embrace you find a moment of peace amidst the swirl of emotions. Slowly, you tilt your head up to look at him with a small smile blossoming across your face. The intimacy of the moment, the rare closeness with someone you've both feared and admired from afar ignites a warmth that had been absent for too long.

"What, love?" Ghost asks after noticing your gentle smile. His voice is tender yet tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

You shake your head with the smile still playing on your lips ever so reluctant to break the comfortable silence that's settled between you. But he's persistent, definitely not satisfied with your silent amusement. "Come on, what is it?" he presses. His tone gentle yet insistent, coaxing you to share the secret of your smile.

When you answer him it’s the last thing he expected. "You have blonde eyelashes," you murmur, almost to yourself. The observation slipping out before you can think better of it. "You're a blondie, Ghosty."

He shakes his head at you with a subtle chuckle barely audible, his gaze holding a flicker of amusement that surprises you. "Blondie, huh?" he remarks. The words dry but with an underlying warmth that feels rare and genuine. "Never figured that'd be the thing to get noticed," he adds, his tone maintaining that typical Ghost edge—cool, composed, yet unexpectedly tender.

The playful comment, light and teasing, helps to bridge the gap between your roles within TF 141 and who you are beneath the surface. His chuckle fills you with an inexplicable joy, lightening the emotional weight of the night.

Encouraged by this lighter moment, he shifts slightly, adjusting his hold on you, making sure you're more comfortable in his lap. "You know," he starts again in a thoughtful tone, "I find it interesting what people notice when they really look."

This new dynamic in your conversation allows both of you to explore this newfound closeness without the heavier undertones of your earlier emotions. It's a welcome reprieve, a chance to see each other in a new light. And perhaps to start building something uniquely personal and intimate from the shared vulnerabilities and now your shared laughter. Relishing the warmth of his embrace and buoyed by the lightness of the moment there’s a playful boldness that's unlike you but feels just right for now. With a mischievous tilt of your head, you look up at him once more. Your eyes were sparkling with a mix of flirtation and genuine curiosity.

"Should've paid more attention to you, huh?" you tease. Your voice soft yet audacious. "Bet you're real pretty under that mask Ghosty."

The words hang in the air, utterly bold and flirtatious, marking a departure from your usual reserve. Ghost pauses at that. The slight tension in his posture the only sign that your comment has caught him off guard. Yet there's a hint of amusement in his eyes. A spark that suggests your boldness might not be unwelcome.

His response is slow, deliberate, as if measuring the weight of your words and his next move. "Maybe one day you'll find out love," he replies, his voice low, a tease laced with a promise that sends a thrill through you.

The exchange was daring and filled with undercurrents of mutual interest. It adds a new layer to the atmosphere, thick with potential and unspoken possibilities. As you nestle even closer to him you feel the solid certainty of his arms around you. You can't help but feel that tonight might just be the beginning of something unexpected and exhilarating. A far departure from how you were feeling even just an hour prior.

As you rest your head against his chest, feeling the thrum of his quickening heartbeat, Ghost finds himself at a crossroads of vulnerability and longing. The playful flirtation, the warmth of your body against his… it's stirring emotions within him that he usually keeps locked away under layers of discipline and duty.

"A girl can dream, hmm?" Your words were light yet laden with unspoken wishes. They echo in his heart. He tightens his hold on you further. A protective gesture that also serves to reassure himself. You're trusting him in a way that no one else does, reaching out for comfort and perhaps more.

Ghost takes a deep breath, the fabric of his balaclava stretching slightly with the movement. The thought of removing the mask, of showing you the scars that mar his face, the physical reminders of battles fought and narrowly survived, suddenly feels less daunting. He adores you, more than he's willing to admit aloud. And that adoration mixed with trust makes him consider revealing his true self.

In this moment Ghost's internal conflict is palpable. He's been grappling with the idea of showing you his face for some time. A gesture that holds significant weight given the secretive and guarded nature of his life. The scars, which he typically regards as badges of survival and resilience, suddenly morph into vulnerabilities when he thinks about revealing them to you. This is not just about physical appearance. It's about letting someone into the most guarded parts of his existence.

Ghost's decision to consider this step now isn't just a spur-of-the-moment choice. It's been building up. You represent a safe haven for him. Someone who might understand and accept his past and the physical evidence of it without judgment. It's this trust and the depth of his feelings for you that push him toward vulnerability. The act of removing the balaclava would symbolize his willingness to lower his defenses and invite you into a more intimate, authentic part of his life. A significant leap for someone whose identity is so closely tied to his role as an elite operative.

In essence, the potential unveiling is more than revealing his face; it's an invitation into his deeper self, a crucial step in any meaningful relationship, intensified here by the layers of his hidden world.

"You know," he starts, his voice a delicate blend of resolve and hesitation, "sometimes, what we dream of isn't as far out of reach as we think." His statement was laden with vulnerability and causes your heart to swell with empathy and affection for this man who has faced so much yet stands so strong before you.

As Ghost's hands hover tentatively at the edge of his mask, the weight of his decision palpable in the air, your eyes meet his with a depth of understanding and gentleness. His fingers, curled around the fabric, pause as he seems to search your face for the reassurance he needs to move forward.

He continues, his voice lowering further, almost unsure by his bold actions. "If I show you, promise me something. Promise me you'll see beyond the scars." The sincerity and slight fear in his voice tug at you, compelling you to act. To reassure him in any way you can.

You reach out slowly, your hand moving to cover his where it still grips the mask. Your touch is light but firm, grounding, a physical manifestation of your support. "You don't have to do this," you whisper back. Your voice gentle but earnest. "I never want to push you if you're uncomfortable."

As you speak your other hand moves up instinctively giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. A silent message of reassurance and strength. "Whatever you’re ready to share, whenever you’re ready, that’s okay with me. I just want you to feel safe, not just with me but for yourself too."

Your words and the warm pressure of your hands convey everything you feel—your respect for his boundaries, your readiness to accept him as he is, and your desire to ensure his comfort above all. You smile softly hoping to convey a sense of peace and acceptance, wanting him to feel the depth of your care without any pressure.

Ghost looks down at your hands. Your much smaller fingers were intertwined with his, feeling the warmth and strength from your touch. The physical connection seems to bolster him, providing a tangible sense of support and acceptance. After a moment, he gives a small nod. An acknowledgment of your words and the comfort they bring. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Ghosty.” You assure him.

Before you can continue Ghost places a finger over your lips silencing your gentle flood of reassurances. His touch is light but there’s a decisiveness in his gesture that catches your attention. Looking into your eyes with a newfound intensity, he tilts his head slightly with a hint of a challenge in his gaze. "But what if I want to?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

His question hangs in the air loaded with possibilities and the promise of a deeper connection. His eyes search yours, looking for an answer, permission, understanding. “If you’re sure.” You looked into his eyes searching for any sort of doubt, but you couldn’t seem to find any.

Ghost's hand reaches up slowly, the weight of the decision evident in every measured movement. His fingers were rough and calloused from years of wielding weapons and facing harsh conditions. They tremble slightly as they hook around the edge of the balaclava. There's a moment's hesitation. A silent plea in his eyes as they lock onto yours, seeking reassurance. Your nod is gentle but firm, encouraging.

With a deep, steadying breath that lifts his chest and fills the air with anticipation, he pulls the fabric up and away from his face. The mask slides over his nose, past scars, and weathered skin, and finally clears his sharp jawline. The reveal is gradual with each inch of skin exposed adding layers to the man you've come to know. His scars map out a history of survival and silent battles.

As the balaclava comes off completely he allows it to drop from his fingers. His gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, he stands bare—not just physically but emotionally too. The vulnerability displayed in this act deepens everything between you profoundly. Ghost, the soldier fades into the background allowing the man behind the mask, marked by life but standing resilient, to shine through.

You see him clearly now. Not just as the formidable operative known as Ghost, but Simon, marked by his past but not defined by it. This shared moment of vulnerability cements a deeper connection. A space where truths are acknowledged without words and where your understanding and acceptance begin to kindle something far more profound than either of you had anticipated.

"Simon," you whisper. His name a gentle caress in the quiet of the room. The air between you thickens with vulnerability and you notice a slight tension in his posture. The uncertainty in his eyes. It's clear he's nervous, unaccustomed to such openness, to being seen so completely.

"May I?" you ask softly requesting permission not just to touch him but to bridge the final gap between your mutual vulnerabilities. At his hesitant nod you move closer. In a bold move you straddle his lap to minimize the distance. Your hands rise to his face, gentle and reassuring. As your fingers trace the texture of his scars you watch each reaction flicker across his features. Fleeting moments of surprise, of relief, of something tender blooming underneath.

As you study Simon’s unmasked face your heart surges with a deep and profound respect. The air between you feels charged with the significance of this moment as he allows himself to be seen, truly seen, perhaps for the first time in too long.

"Look at you," you whisper to him. Your voice laced with warmth and awe. You gaze at him more lovingly than even he could have anticipated. Your fingers gently trace the contours of his face. Your touch light but filled with intent, meant to comfort, and reassure him in his vulnerability. "You're so incredibly strong, Simon."

As your thumbs smooth over his cheeks, you can feel him relax slightly under your touch. His usual guardedness giving way to a tentative acceptance of your care. "And you’re beautiful. So handsome." you continue, each word deliberate and sincere. "Not despite these scars but because of them. They're not just marks. They're medals of your courage. Symbols of your endurance."

Simon's breath caught in his throat as he absorbed your words. No one had ever looked at him this way before. Seen him so completely and accepted him so fully. The barriers he had meticulously built around himself seemed to crumble under the gentle touch of your fingers and the sincere love in your voice. In this moment, stripped of his mask and the persona of Ghost, Simon felt truly seen. The fear that had knotted in his chest began to dissolve instead replaced by a warmth that spread through him, kindling a connection that went beyond the physical, touching something deep within his soul.

"Every line," you continued tracing one gently with your fingertip, "tells a story of survival, of fights bravely fought, of a life fiercely lived. They make you... uniquely you." Your voice is thick with admiration. Your eyes were locked in on his ensuring he feels the weight of your words.

Simon looks back at you, visibly moved. His eyes, usually a fortress of stoic resolve, now shimmer slightly with unshed tears. The walls he's built around himself seem to tremble under the warmth of your gaze and the sincerity in your voice. At your words, Simon's eyes hold yours. A mixture of awe and something that looks a lot like relief. You lean in with your forehead resting against his, sharing a breath, sharing a moment of profound connection.

Simon finds himself at the mercy of a cascade of emotions with feelings he's tightly regulated and kept at bay through years of training and harsh realities. As he looks into your eyes—eyes filled with genuine care and admiration—he experiences a vulnerability that is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Inside, Simon is grappling with a mix of disbelief and wonder. The walls he's constructed around his heart, built to protect, and isolate, are wavering under the gentle but persistent tide of your compassion. Each word you speak, each tender touch, challenges his long-held beliefs about himself and his worth. The fortress of stoic resolve that has always been his shield is now nearly crumbled by the warmth of your gaze. In the understanding in your voice.

Can she truly see something in me that I've failed to recognize? he wonders silently baffled by the idea that his scars and battles, which he has always viewed as disfigurements and burdens, could be seen as marks of beauty and strength. Your touch of tracing his face with such intimate loving care doesn't just map the physical contours of his scars but also traces the deeper emotional wounds he's carried silently for so long.

As your forehead rests against his, sharing this profound moment of connection, Simon feels a shift within himself. A melting of ice that he didn't realize had encased his heart. The feeling of being understood, truly and deeply, without the need for masks or defenses is profoundly disarming. It stirs something in him that feels dangerously close to hope, to love.

In the quiet of this shared moment Simon begins to accept the possibility that he may not only be capable of loving but that he is already deep in the throes of it especially after witnessing the care and devotion with which you regard him. It's a realization that brings both fear and a surprising relief. The kind of relief that comes from finally settling down a heavy burden he hadn't fully acknowledged carrying.

Amidst these revelations he feels a gratitude that tightens his throat. An overwhelming appreciation for the woman before him who sees beyond the surface, who sees him not as a collection of scars and stories, but as a whole person worthy of love and affection. This connection, this acceptance, it's something he's longed for without even realizing it. And now faced with its reality he's both humbled and profoundly moved.

"You see all this in me?" he finally managed to ask with his voice barely above a whisper. As if speaking louder might break the spell of this intimate exchange.

"It breaks my heart that you don't, Si," you respond softly. Your voice laced with both sadness and affection. It's rare for you to use that nickname, but in this moment it feels just right. Intimate and genuine.

As your fingers maintain their gentle contact on his face Simon feels a surge of emotions that almost overwhelms him. Your words were so full of sincerity and depth and pierce through the layers of self-doubt and isolation he has wrapped around himself for so long. "You should see yourself the way I see you. Not just for what you’ve been through but for who you are because of it. You’re remarkable, Simon. And yes, I see all of this and so much more." Each word resonates within him, echoing in the spaces he's kept guarded and hidden from the world.

As he absorbs the weight of your affirmation Simon's heart feels like it could burst from the sheer intensity of what he's experiencing. It's as if your words have unlocked something within him. A floodgate opening to reveal depths of emotion he had long disregarded as unreachable. The shock of realizing that he can feel so deeply that he might indeed love and be loved in return washes over him with an almost palpable force.

For years Simon has compartmentalized his emotions viewing them as potential weaknesses in the unforgiving environments he's navigated. But now being held by your gaze and touched by your understanding he finds himself reconsidering everything he thought he knew about his capacity for emotion. The realization that he does love you and that he has perhaps loved you in ways he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge comes as both a shock and a beautiful revelation.

As he exhales softly, releasing the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, a mix of relief and wonder fills him. The connection you share seems to solidify into something tangible, something real and powerful. Your ability to see him—not just the soldier, not just the scars, but Simon, the man behind the mask—instills in him a newfound sense of worthiness and belonging. In the warmth of your touch and the earnestness of your words Simon finds a new perspective on himself and his place in the world. It's as if your belief in him has lent him the strength to believe in himself. To accept the possibility of a future shaped not by solitude and sacrifice but by love and mutual understanding.

This emotional turning point is not just a revelation of his feelings for you but an awakening to the idea that he can be loved for all that he is, scars and strengths alike. As he looks into your eyes filled with appreciation and a dawning recognition of his worth. Simon knows that whatever the future holds it has been irrevocably altered by the truth and beauty of this moment.

As the emotional weight of the moment hangs between you, you sense the intensity overwhelming Simon in the wake of his newfound realizations. To lighten the mood and bring a touch of levity back into the exchange you offer him a radiant, genuine smile. Your eyes sparkle with affection and a playful teasing tone colors your voice as you look into his eyes which are now more open and vulnerable than ever.

“I was right though,” you say with a quiet giggle as your smile broadened “You are real pretty under that mask.”

Simon's eyes light up at your playful remark. A spark of joy dancing in them as he absorbs the lighter mood you've introduced. His smile spreads across his face softening the lines and scars that mark his experiences. The laughter you share serves as a reminder of the normalcy and comfort that can exist even in moments filled with deep emotional revelations.

After the laughter subsides Simon's expression turns tender. His eyes still holding yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. Leaning in slightly, the proximity bridging any remaining space between you. He mirrors your intimate gesture with one of his own. His hand, previously resting cautiously at his side, now reaches up to gently cup your face. The touch is soft but deliberate. Filled with affection and a newfound confidence.

"You've always seen more than most," Simon says. His voice low and filled with emotion. "Not just the surface, but the stories and the scars beneath. For that, I’m more grateful than I can express."

He pauses, his thumb now tracing the contour of your cheek in a slow, affectionate caress. "And you," Simon continues with his voice softening further. Softer than you’ve ever heard with a gentle sincerity underscoring his words, "are truly beautiful. In ways that go beyond what's visible. Your strength, your compassion… it shines through in everything you do."

The intimacy of his touch and his words draw you even closer, knitting your connection tighter. Simon's actions reveal his comfort and trust in you. Showcasing his willingness to not only accept the love and acceptance offered but to return it in kind. In this shared space, filled with genuine smiles and soft touches, the foundation of your relationship deepens. It promised a future where both laughter and earnest declarations have a place.

Your heart now feels as if it might burst right out of your chest. Simon’s words, laden with genuine admiration for who you are beyond the surface, touch you profoundly. You've always felt a strong connection with him but hearing him articulate his appreciation for your inner qualities. It's overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

A single tear escapes without your permission tracing a path down your cheek, not out of sadness but from the sheer intensity of emotion swirling within you. Simon notices the tear and his expression softens further. Gently, he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. His touch tender and filled with utmost concern.

As Simon's gentle fingers brush away the tear from your cheek the sweet gesture triggers something deep within you. The floodgates open and a rush of emotions surge forward. You feel an overwhelming mix of relief, gratitude, and a profound connection that you've never experienced so intensely before. Each tear that falls feels like a release of feelings too long held back.

Noticing your distress Simon acts with instinctive care. He gently guides you back into his lap wrapping his strong arms around you. The closeness of his embrace feels like a sanctuary as you nestle into his chest, letting your tears flow freely. Simon rocks you gently. His presence a calming force in the storm of your emotions. "It's okay, it'll all be okay," he murmurs soothingly, his voice a steady, comforting rumble against your ear. Each word he whispers is a balm, helping to steady your shaking breaths as you cry it all out. The built-up emotions washing over you.

After a few moments as the tide of your tears begins to subside, you lift your head to look up at him. Simon meets your gaze with a gentle smile. The softness in his eyes reflecting his deep care for you. "You alright, love?" he asks full of concern and affection for you.

You nod slowly, still nestled in the safety of Simon's embrace. The warmth from his body lending you calm. "I'm sorry, I just got overwhelmed," you explain with your voice barely above a whisper. The flood of emotions was unexpected yet not unwelcome. "It's just... all of this, hearing how you see me. Being this close to you," you continue as your eyes searched his for understanding. "It means so much to me, Simon. More than I can really express."

Simon's smile is genuine as he watches you. Understanding flickering in his eyes as he gently rocks you, keeping you close. "There's nothing to apologize for, love," he reassures you. His voice a steady presence. "It’s okay to feel this deeply. It's okay to let it show. I don’t mind a bit."

His words, affirming and gentle, help to steady the last remnants of your emotional whirlwind. As you slowly pull back to look at him again his hand remains comforting on your back, always reassuring.

"You alright now?" he asks after a moment of watching you closely. His voice low and husky.

Nodding, you manage a more composed smile this time, touched by his patience and care. "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you, Simon. For being here. For understanding," you say with gratitude coloring your tone.

Simon’s response is a tender squeeze of his arms around you. A nonverbal promise of his continued support. "Always," he murmurs. The simplicity of that single word carries with it the weight of his commitment.

In this quiet space held in Simon's arms you realize the strength that lies in vulnerability and the beauty of being seen and accepted. It’s a profound moment between the two of you. One that you both will cherish as a cornerstone of your relationship, built on understanding, respect, and heartfelt emotion.

As you rest quietly in Simon's embrace, comforted by his gentle rocking and the soothing timbre of his voice, you notice a subtle shift in his demeanor. His gaze usually so guarded and controlled now holds an unmistakable depth of emotion. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the rawness of your tears seems to have broken down the last barriers he had in place.

Simon takes a deep breath as if steeling himself to cross a threshold he's been guarding for too long. "Seeing you like this, feeling so much right alongside you... it's made me realize something," he starts. His voice thick with emotion. His eyes lock onto yours deciding not to hold anything back. "I… I need you to know."

He pauses ensuring he has your full attention. His hands still gently cradling you. "I want to be there for you, not just now but always. I want to be the one you lean on, the one who gets to see all the sides of you, the beautiful, the tough, the vulnerable." His words pour out, fervent and sincere. "I want to be your person, love. If you'll have me."

The confession hangs in the air, bold and heartfelt. Simon's face is open, hopeful yet anxious, as he gauges your reaction. It's clear this isn't just a sudden admission but something he's been grappling with. The intensity of the current situation pushing his feelings to the surface.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears, not from sadness, but from a bewildering mix of joy and doubt. His words are everything you wanted to hear yet they also echo in the corners of your mind where you harbor insecurities. You see him—Simon, so confident, so capable. The embodiment of everything you admire. And then there’s you, the ‘inexperienced little American girl’ as you harshly label yourself, suddenly feeling all the more plain and unworthy beside him.

“Simon,” you start. Your voice wavering not just with emotion but with the weight of your own self-doubt. “Why me? You’re… you’re incredible, and I’m just… I don’t know, I always feel like I’m just stumbling around you. I’m not sure what you see in someone like me.”

As your insecurities surface, revealing the depth of your unsureness, Simon's expression shifts into one of immediate concern and gentle reproof. "Love, you can't be serious…" he begins. His voice imbued with a firm conviction that makes you pause. "You're everything and more. You don’t see that?"

He makes sure you're looking directly at him with his hands tenderly cradling your face, ensuring that you feel the weight and sincerity of his words. "You see inexperience, but I see a woman who bravely faces every new challenge. Who learns and adapts, who grows stronger every day. You’re not just someone trying to keep up. You're someone who enhances our team with your unique strengths and perspective."

Simon's voice softens even further as he continues. Each word carefully chosen to convey his deep admiration and affection. "Every time you think you're just scrambling to catch up, I see someone gracefully navigating through obstacles. What you call inexperience, I call a journey of growth and courage. And that’s what draws me to you. Not just your resilience but your authenticity. The realness you bring to every situation is unguarded and genuine."

He leans in closer reducing the space between you, his gaze locked with yours in an intense, heartfelt connection. "To me, you are a woman who has taught me more about heart and perseverance than anyone else. You bring laughter, support, and challenge to my life in ways you don’t even realize."

Simon shakes his head slightly, a smile tinged with affection and a hint of awe breaking through. "You being you, with all your doubts, your laughs, your dreams—that's what I want and need. You might feel like you're just keeping pace, but love, in my eyes, you're flying. And I want to be there to support you. To celebrate every victory and help you through every challenge."

Simon's words not only offer reassurance but also begin to dismantle the walls of doubt you've built around yourself just as he had. His belief in you, his unwavering support, resonates deeply, perhaps starting to shift how you view yourself. No longer as a mere participant trying to keep up but as an invaluable member of the team whose journey and contributions are deeply cherished.

Overwhelmed by Simon's heartfelt words you find yourself momentarily speechless. His deep belief in your worth and his unwavering support pierce through the layers of your self-doubt, striking a chord deep within you. It's as if his words have not only reached your ears but also wrapped around your heart, offering both solace and a profound reassurance.

Without a word you lean forward, burying your face in the warmth of Simon's chest. The sturdy beat of his heart under your ear is comforting. A steady rhythm in the storm of emotions you're navigating. As you inhale deeply, you're enveloped by his familiar scent, a mixture that's uniquely Simon—part strength, part safety. It's grounding, helping you anchor yourself in the reality of his presence. In the truth of his words.

Simon's arms encircle you gently once more. His hand finding its way to your back where he begins to rub soothing circles. The simple gesture is nurturing, allowing you the space and comfort to collect your thoughts. To let the emotional turbulence settle into a sense of peace. His patience is palpable. There's no rush, no urgency, just a steady presence as he holds you. Affirming that he's there for you, not just in moments of strength but also in moments of vulnerability.

In the sanctuary of Simon's embrace, you feel a deep gratitude washing over you. His support not only uplifts you but also starts to reshape the way you view yourself. The doubts that once loomed large now begin to shrink, overshadowed by the new perspective he's given you—one where you are valued, capable, and cherished.

As you slowly lift your head to meet his gaze your eyes are reflective of the emotions still swirling within you but also shining with a newfound confidence. The connection you share has deepened, strengthened by vulnerability and honesty. You're ready to voice your thoughts, to respond to his openness with your own. “Simon,” you begin. Your voice a whisper that carries all the depth of your emotions, “Can I kiss you?”

The moment hangs suspended. Your question lingering between you, filled with anticipation. Simon’s response is not in words but actions. A reflection of the straightforward, decisive man you know him to be. With a swift, gentle motion, he cups your face in his hands once more. His touch reassuring and intent. Before you can react further he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is a surge of warmth and tenderness. Deepening as if to make up for all the unspoken times you both held back. It's a kiss that communicates more than any words could. Filled with all the emotions that have been steadily brewing—a mixture of relief, affection, and undisguised longing.

When you finally come up for air Simon's eyes twinkle with a mixture of delight and affection. A sweet smirk playing on his lips. “Thought you’d never ask, love,” he teases gently. His voice a soft rumble that sends a thrill through you. The playfulness in his tone lightens the intensity of the moment adding a layer of joy to the emotional depth you've shared.

Amidst the deep embrace, as Simon's arms encircle you, creating a world that consists only of the two of you, his question still lingers in the air. A soft echo amidst the intensity of your mutual connection. "Is that a yes?" His voice, though light and teasing, carries an undercurrent of earnest desire for affirmation, a confirmation of the bond you both feel.

Your body is pressed against his feeling the reassuring strength of his chest. The protective circle of his arms and the gentle touch of his hands tracing soothing patterns on your back. The physical closeness amplifies the emotional intimacy of the moment making the space between heartbeats seem significant filled with unspoken promises and shared dreams.

You lift your head from the sanctuary of his chest meeting his gaze which is alight with anticipation and warmth. His eyes, so often a bastion of resolve, now hold a tender vulnerability, waiting for your words, your confirmation.

"Yes, Simon," you respond, your voice soft but filled with conviction, the words flowing effortlessly in the safety of his hold. "Absolutely it's a yes. I can't imagine being with anyone else but you." The smile that spreads across your face mirrors the joy and sincerity in your heart.

As you speak your hand gently caresses his cheek feeling the slight roughness of his skin beneath your fingertips grounding the moment in the tactile reality of his presence. Simon's reaction is immediate as a deep, relieved breath. And his eyes close for a brief moment, savoring the words that have sealed the understanding between you.

When he opens his eyes again there's a new light in them, one of deep contentment and resolve. He leans in to capture your lips with his once more. This kiss infused with the joy of mutual acceptance and the excitement of a future together. It's a kiss that reaffirms everything that has been shared, a tender seal on the promises made.

Pulling back slightly, Simon's forehead rests against yours. A contented sigh escaping him. "I was hoping you'd say that," he murmurs, his voice a low hum filled with happiness. "You have no idea how much you mean to me."

In the cocoon of Simon's embrace, the air around you pulses with a newfound joy, each moment intensifying the connection that binds you together. With each word, each touch, Simon showers you with the love and affection that he's held back for so long. His lips find yours again, this time more eagerly, conveying emotions too powerful for words.

As Simon deepens the kiss, he pauses briefly, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes with an expression brimming with tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he whispers. The warmth of his breath caressing your face as he plants soft kisses along your jawline. Each kiss seems to say what words cannot fully express, marking a trail of affection that sends tingles through your body.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he murmurs, "The prettiest girl I've ever seen," his voice a velvety whisper that wraps around you like a soothing blanket. The sincerity in his tone, coupled with the gentle press of his lips against your skin, makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken.

He then moves back up to meet your gaze again, his hands cradling your face with a reverence that makes you feel cherished in ways you'd only imagined. "And you're not just beautiful, you're the smartest woman I know," he adds. His admiration for your intellect just as palpable as his physical attraction. His thumbs gently stroke your cheeks as he continues, "Watching you solve problems that stump everyone else—it's incredible."

Simon's compliments flow seamlessly as he explores your face with his kisses. Each touch a testament to his deepening feelings. With every word, every gentle caress, you feel more seen and appreciated than ever before. The connection deepens, wrapping both of you in a tender intimacy that feels both exhilarating and profoundly right.

As you lie there, enveloped in Simon's love and adoration, a giggle escapes you. A sound of pure happiness and contentment. You've never felt so loved, so valued. In Simon's arms, with his voice whispering sweet affirmations, you feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. He's not just a partner. He's your person in every sense, and in this perfect heartfelt moment you trust him completely and utterly.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[sftykth]

milk and cookies ⟢ anakin skywalker i.

banner made by me!

╭ summary: your doll like face will be the end of anakin skywalker he was sure of it. however he must stay away from his disturbing thoughts as he was only your sugar daddy, and you two had agreed on a deal, no physical contact. Though for how long can you both resist the temptation?

╭ pairing: y/n x anakin skywalker

╭ genre: college au!, gap age (y/n is 20, anakin is 42), sugar daddy

╭ a/n: hi everyone! i couldn’t help but make another story as the idea sprung into my head. i would love to hear your feedback on it!:)

Today seemed like God was not on your side.

From the moment you had woken to your alarm not going off, to the precious sweat you had to break for chasing a taxi to meet him. You will admit you might have slept through the alarm this morning but that can't be entirely your fault. Your curious little mind just had to stay up and do research more of the stranger that you will be seeing for the first time today.

Anakin Skywalker. The name that drove you crazy for the past two weeks straight. A very well known man in Coruscant, the front leading man for ruling the state. To say you were quite intimidated by him would be an understatement, however you tried to ease yourself by reminding your little head that he agreed to this.

When you created an account for a sugar daddy website, seeing the man who was known for being cold and ruthless was the last person you expected. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should add him. Handsome wasn't enough to describe this man, he was absolutely divine. The blue piercing eyes had made your breath hitch, you had been aware of his overwhelming looks but seeing it up close still made your knees weak. The sunken smile lines revealed his age and instead of making you feel turned off, it inflamed something deep within you. Creating an account was purely for financial gain, as a broke college student you had listened to your friend and pushed yourself to try it out.

As you sit in the taxi on the way to the little cafe you both had agreed to meet, just on the outskirts of the city. Away from the prying eyes. You reminisce on the first messages you two had exchanged, past you not believing that the day will come were you will meet this man.

April, 2024.

[Sky] Hi.

[Dollface] hey! what's up?!

[Sky] You added me?

[Dollface] um well yea but just a polite thing to say yk..

[Sky] I see. I don't think I have you seen on here before.

[Dollface] come here often huh;)

[Sky] Funny.

[Dollface] sorry. yeah im new here. hoping not to run into no creeps haha

[Sky] Well, one thing I can promise is that I'm not a creep. So dollface, why are you here?

At the moment you were scared by his harsh tone but you grew to embrace it and it only made you tease him harder. Even his texting style made you think about how much older he was, nearly twice your age. Somehow it just didn't concern you that much, you knew that getting into something like this will most likely mean that the men on the website will be much older. You only ever had one boyfriend in your twenty ears, and that was when you were sixteen and he was around the same age. You shook your head at the thought, this man is not going to become your boyfriend. This is a pure transactional relationship, something he made to stress.

Him being a known figure had its advantages to that you were able to get every detail of his life, from a young age he was put into the world of leadership and wealth. Age eighteen he had already won the elections and was announced as the youngest ruler of the state. Married at twenty one to the daughter of the ruler of Naboo, Mr Amidala and having twins just at the pure age of twenty three. You shuddered at the though of having to raise children so young. Though an unexpected divorce at the age of thirty had made you raise your eyebrows, even though you knew of the power couple you were never really into politics, the topic being all too confusing for someone like you. Leaving twelve years of being single, you wondered what caused him to join such website, he didn't reveal much through messages.

"Miss, we are here." You heard the driver speak up, you shook out of your thoughts and thanked him before handing some cash and leaving the car.

You shivered at the cold breeze that swept by you, you tugged your little pink skirt further down. Hoping that warmer days are coming, you hated the cold. Finally, the realization that you will be meeting this man that you have been messaging hit you like a ton of bricks. You gulped, as you peered at the cafe in front of you. Without another thought you rushed through the doors, feeling bad you that you must of have left him waiting. From the research you had done you knew he was a punctual man, always the first one ready for every event.

Scanning the area around you before you spotted the tall figure sat right at the back booth. You didn't even realize he was already staring you down like you had murdered his whole family, speed walking to the table.

"I'm so sorry Mr Skywalker, I slept through my alarm this morning and I didn't realize how long the ride will take." you rambled on, cheeks turning red being under his intense stare.

He hummed and pointed to the seat in front of him, not saying a word yet. Your hands shook slightly at the silence he was giving you, taking the seat he was pointing. Expecting the cold shoulder but still slightly hoping that the messages you had exchanged had encouraged some form of lightheartedness.

"Twenty minutes. That is how long I have been waiting for you. I must say I'm very displeased by this." Were his first words to me, oh that sweet honey voice rolling smoothly of his tongue. You took every word in carefully, gazing up at him you tried not to get too distracted by his good looks.

"I'm sorry... I will do better next time. I promise Mr Skywalker." you mumbled, biting your lip as sudden shyness took over your body.

"Not so bold now are, dollface? I must say the nickname does match the face." he added as he toyed with the coffee cup in his hand. The compliment had made you blush harder, not being able to look into his eyes no more as you shook your head carefully. The way he said the nickname had made your thighs clench together beneath the table, hoping he didn't notice the action. He did.

You were unsure how to reply, not really expecting for him to be so forward, before you could say anything he begins with a "So, are you ready to go through the rules?"

This made you look up. Rules? He was really an organised man afterall. "Yes." You replied, unsure what possible rules he will be giving you but still ready to hear what he wants from you. The intention of why you were on the website in the first place was known to him but you were yet to learn what he wanted from you. He said he would only discuss it in person which encouraged the meeting in the first place.

"Okay good. So as you know already my job requires of me to attend to many different events. Not just around our state but to others as well." He carefully listed, his eyes never leaving yours. Though you were taking every word in carefully, knowing you couldn't afford to anger him. Being late already set you back in your eyes, so you had to try harder to impress him. You scoffed inside, you didn't have to impress him, this is not a date. You had to remind yourself once again.

"My uncle, well he is a very persistent man and as much as I try to push his talks away it seems impossible. He wants me to marry again. This is something I cannot do, but to push those frustrating talks away I thought you could be an actual help here." Furrowing your eyebrows, you added puzzled, "You want to marry me?"

He scoffed at the words. For some reason that made your insides feel weird. You shook your head, this is not a date. You kept repeating in your head. "No, of course not. I meant that you could play a pretend girlfriend or some sort. Only for a while, until he backs off and I can finish off my tasks without having to hear his talks." He answered, taking a sip of his coffee. You licked your lips in response, you felt crazy for finding any action of his so sexy. You had to control yourself.

"I see. So what would be rules I would need to follow?" You asked, still unsure about this whole thing but deep within you knew you wanted to keep seeing this man. Something about him made you question your morals, wanting to do absolutely anything to please him. Once again you had to shake your head at such disturbing thoughts appearing in your head.

"Well firstly, you will and must attend every event that I have scheduled. No matter last minute or not, those events are super important for me and my job. And that way the media will be able to spread the word of their leader in a relationship and my uncle can finally back off. There will be no physical contact between us besides a typical hand hold, and only for such contact to made will be at those events. And for your attendance you will be payed as discussed prior of course." This seemed so easy for him as he spoke, always so professional.

You had to take all the information in, this was such an unusual situation. When your friend said to join the website you were expecting you will have to get some form of sexual interaction but this, this was so different. You can't lie, it was really an amazing deal. Though you cannot lie that the last rule made you slightly disappointing, you didn't know how you will control yourself next to this man and not be able to touch him.

"Deal" You squealed, throat dry from not speaking up for a while. Embarrassment took over you, hoping you didn't draw too much attention to yourself. You saw a slight smirk appear on his handsome face, "That's good, I'm glad." You still couldn't look into his eyes for long before staring at the table, playing with the hems at the end of your skirt.

"It was nice meeting you, dollface. I hope that our next meeting will be with you on time." The comment made your head shot up, face flushed as your doe like eyes stared up him, you saw his adams apple wobble as he swallowed, adjusting his tie he stood up, ready to leave.

"Oh and nice shirt, dollface." Were his last words as he turned away and walked out the doors. Leaving you speechless and embarrassed, you looked down at the shirt and saw you had forgotten in your late process to put a bra on, your white shirt clearly highlighting the hardened nipples from the earlier cold you felt.

You cursed yourself, this is going to be the hardest thing you will have to do. You were sure of it.

— i would love to hear your feedback on it:) and let me know if you like another part to it.

[777gojosgf]

YOU’RE THE RISK, I’M GONNA TAKE IT

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: anxious!reader x satoru gojo

IN WHERE :: reader is sick of the situationship and wants something serious.

a/n: thanks for the 100 followers <3 (yes this is inspired by risk - gracie abrams)

"watch this be the wrong thing, classic," you informed shoko on the phone as you paced around your apartment, trying not to get lost in your thoughts. she responded with a gentle chuckle, telling you not to worry so much and that there is probably a reason why your'relationship' hasn't been fully established yet.

"i’m not sure why you overthink so much, y/n. the guy is clearly attracted you, and i’ve never seen him pay attention to anyone like he does to you. perhaps you should just tell him?” shoko calmed you, but before you could respond, she informed you that she needed to go work on her research project. with a hasty goodbye, you hang up the phone and throw it on your bed.

you have known satoru gojo for years, having become friends when you were both students at jujutsu high. however, as adults, you had succumbed to his foolish attractions. it was no lie that he felt something for you as well, but because you knew his habits and how he was in the past, you didn't believe him. you weren't sure if it was anxiousness or a true inability to believe him. in any case, you desperately required clarification.

but, you just couldn’t get yourself to ask him. not when you could lose the bond you two have right now and maybe it is too soon to make this something official?

god, even now, you wake up in the middle of the night with thoughts racing through your head. it feels wrong not to have him by your side. even though he is. but it doesn't feel like he is. not when you couldn't call him yours and he most likely hadn't considered you his yet.

the notification sound from your phone caused you to stop thinking and avert your sight to it. you walked over to your bed, pulled up your phone, and viewed the notification from the devil himself. you sigh and quickly turn off your phone, collapsing on your bed. was it time to inform him? you did not feel comfortable going out with him without knowing what he thought of you.

fine, you needed encouragement and affirmation, and you weren't ashamed to say so. because, to be fair, all humans do it in some manner, right?

but why was it so hard to tell him that? to ask him how he feels and if he wishes for you to be the only person he talks to, goes out on dates with— god.

these thoughts made you feel like a teenager again, and the thought itself made you laugh. perhaps there wasn't much of a difference between your teens and twenties. yes, you have adult duties now, but you will always feel like a sixteen-year-old.

it didn't take long until your phone rang and your eyes widened. again, you reached for your phone and realised it was he who had called. maybe he was wondering why you didn't respond. you unconsciously picked up the phone and waited for him to speak, but there was no answer on the other end of the line, so you managed to say a brief hello.

"ah, there she is. i guess no one kidnapped you after all?" he asked humorously, and you swore you could almost hear him with a smile on his face. in response, you simply rolled your eyes. "can't go without my reply for five minutes, satoru?" you responded teasingly, understanding how to play his games on himself, but it generally left you defeated.

“what can i say, i missed you.”

he missed you?

if he missed you surely there must be the possibility that he then certainly thought about you the way you did about him, right? or maybe he didn’t mean it like that at all, perhaps he didn’t have anything else to do so—

"was that too much or did they finally come and get you?" he attempted to jest, but the uneasiness of his prior statement was too obvious. you mentally swore at yourself for overthinking. "no. no— it's okay."

“no to it being much or it’s okay that they got you, y/n?”

you let out a quick laugh, “no to it being too much, you idiot. i kind of missed you too.”

“kind of?”

“fine. i missed you. but— there is something that i need to talk to you about before i lose my mind and do something that is so utterly stupid.” you managed to drawl out with much relief that you were able to get it out of your system to at least tell him that there was something going on.

“what’s wrong, y/n?” his voice laced with worry and you could hear him sitting upright, making you shake your head.

“it’s nothing serious— well it sort of is, but not life threatening or anything. i just… can i see you?”

not long after that, you heard a knock on your door. you stood up from your bed, took a quick peek in the mirror to fix your hair, and dashed over to the door. you drew a breath before opening the door to discover a satoru gojo resting against the door frame. one hand casually in his pocket, a smug smirk on his face.

"you came." you exhaled out, but it was more for yourself than for him. to ensure that you obtain answers rather than falling for his charms and being unable to tell him what had been drowning you for the previous week.

“you called.” with that he let himself in and you closed the door behind him and leaned against it. he sneaked a quick glance at your apartment before turning around to face you but not before reaching out for your hand. “alright. talk to me, pretty. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

okay.

fuck.

maybe you weren’t all that prepared to tell him yet.

“hey. look at me.” he whispered and placed his thumb underneath your chin forcing you to look up at him. his eyes met yours and you could see the slight worry still swarm in them. that is what finally made you open your mouth.

“okay. it’s just— i need to know, satoru.”

“know what?”

“what you want. or more, who you want. and if it’s me— or someone else or that it is only me or if you have someone else out there too. i just— i want to know. okay?” you rambled and hated it that it came out the way you said it as you clearly had it planned out all differently in your head. you were embarrassed to meet his glance but he still made you look at him.

his eyebrows raised slightly before a confused look was drawn on his face. “you think that there’s someone else?”

“well. i just feel like i don’t really know what’s going on and that definitely isn’t entirely your fault or anything but— i don’t know okay. i like you, satoru. i really, really like you and i just want to know now whether you like me or not before i fall so hard for you that you will resent—“

you were cut off by him planting his lips on yours. it started out soft and sweet before you kissed him back with more anticipation. he smiled against your lips before letting go of you and taking back a few steps. “you drive me insane, you know?”

“i am unable to put into words how i feel about you, y/n. even hearing you say this pains me because it means that i haven’t showed you enough how much i care for you and about you.” he confessed warily, his hand anxiously going through his hair.

you moved a couple steps closer and leaned into him. "hey— don't blame yourself. i just tend to overthink things and want to be certain." you whispered and cupped his face, similar to when he made you to look at him. you had an adorable grin on your face and kissed him tenderly, to which he replied in kind.

"i really, really like you too." he spoke decisively, almost proudly, and you swear your heart was nearly bursting through your chest.

"so…. does this mean that we…" you trailed off teasingly, a playful expression in your eyes, and he simply grinned in response before nodding and bending down to whisper in your ear.

“you’re mine, y/n.”

[marypaol]

Copy Of A Copy

Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Summary: Whatever is drawn on your skin shows up on your soulmates skin.

Warnings: Annoyance, Draco being Draco, I honestly can’t think of anything let me know if you see something!

Note: I’ve been planning on writing this for so long and I’m finally doing so! Hope you guys enjoy. :)

Masterlist

Request Requirements

The pale fingers of the Slytherin carefully-but skillfully- chopped the ingredients for the Potion, trying to cut out the conversation of Potter and Weasley. They were clearly trying to keep their voices down but failing to do so due to Draco’s hearing abilities.

It was at that moment he wished he was temporarily deaf, so that he didn’t have to hear the bickering of Potter and wanna-be-Weasley.

“Haha! Look at Seamus, Malfoy.” Crabbe said, his big face scrunching up as his fat finger pointed to the clumsy boy across the room. Draco spared a glance, seeing the boy with a black face, looking into his potion helplessly as the explosion just occurred. Malfoy rolled his eyes, shooting Crabbe a glare before looking back to his task at hand.

But, when he glanced at his hand, he saw little flowers forming, the ink moist as whoever was drawing it was doing it in real time. Petal after petal appeared, forming a decent picture. He grumbled, grabbing the towel Seamus used to wipe his face and aggressively rubbed the skin, terribly smearing the ink on the back of his hand, the flowers mushing together, making it not look so decent anymore.

He flung the towel on the table beside him, and picked up the knife he placed down, going back to his previous actions.

“What now, Malfoy?” Goyle asked. Draco snarled.

“Stupid soulmate drawing on their skin again. Seriously, they can’t draw on a piece of parchment?” He complained, his chops becoming more harsh on the cutting board.

Goyle shrugged. “Unless they’re bored in class. What is it anyway? Little reminders?”

“No, course not! In fact, I’d rather it be that instead of rubbish drawings of dumb flowers! Look at that rubbish,” Draco started, repeating the word he said earlier with a bitter taste growing in his mouth. He showed the two boys what was left of the flowers on his hand. “Honestly, how ugly.”

The two boys agreed, but they had hints of smiles on their faces.

Draco noticed and barked. “What’s so funny, boys?”

The smiles dropped instantly on Goyle’s face but Crabbe still had a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nothing, just that your soulmate draws on her skin.”

Draco squinted. “And what’s so funny about that? Enlighten me, I’d rather laugh than roll my eyes.”

Goyle shrugged. “Just that she must be doing it in purpose. Ya know, for you to see?”

Draco thought about it for a moment, ignoring the new lines forming on his hand.

“Why would I want to see this?” Draco wondered, irritation brewing inside him. “Especially on my hand, I don’t need it there, it’s annoying really.”

“You know how girls are. She’s desperate, man.” Crabbe jumped in, entering the conversation once he found out Draco wasn’t as upset as he thought.

Draco scoffed. “You know what, you’re right, Crabbe. She’s desperate for me. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s annoying and I don’t want it there.”

Draco then finally looked down at his hand, and this time he saw an eye with shading, the smooth strokes of eyelashes now forming on his skin. Once she was done, Draco saw more stokes forming above the eye, and, wondering what it is, leaned forward to see what she was drawing. It turned out to be an eyebrow, but the way the lines were drawn helped Draco see the direction the hairs were going in, adding detail to the drawing he didn’t know was needed.

He gripped the towel between his finger tips of his other hand, but he felt some sort of guilt eating at his chest for rubbing away such work. But he didn’t want to be walking around with silly eyes and eyebrows on his hand, so with unwanted shame brewing in his chest he rubbed the fabric on the back of his hand, the once was ink smearing, covering his skin in black.

The girl frowned deeply as she watched once more the drawings she made were harshly rubbed away. The ink from her quill was a black blob now once the person was satisfied enough. Satisfied that the pictures were gone.

Her heart sank in her stomach for an unknown reason.

Well, she knew the reason, she just didn’t want to admit to herself that what her soulmate was doing was effecting her in this way.

She shouldn’t be surprised that he rubbed them off; I mean, who wants to walk around the corridors with silly drawings on the back of their hand? She didn’t have a problem with it, but he clearly did.

After the last moment of Lupin’s lecture faded away with the bell she grumbly got up and out her things away, making her way to the bathroom to rub the ink off. (Despite the nonexistent problem with walking around with drawings on herself, she did have a problem with walking around with a big ink smear in their place.)

She bent over the sink, her bag discarded at her feet as she rubbed the skin, forming red marks in their wake. The ink slowly ran down the drain, her heart going down with it.

She wished her soulmate accepted her actions on showing she was there, existing, live and breathing, to assure them that someone out there wanted them. But was he just embarrassed? Did he not want her as much as she thought he did? Did he have an annoyance towards the whole soulmate concept?

She sure hoped not, because her want to show her love was strong, yet the want to receive it was even stronger.

She wanted someone to love.

That loved her right back.

Did he even want that?

“Any drawings today, Malfoy?” Crabbe asked, a soft chuckle escaping his big mouth. Draco snarled at the boy beside him, also glaring at Goyle who was making interesting-meaning quite disgusting- noises while he was eating the feast the house elves provided.

The boy who received the glare quickly composed himself, swallowing the large amount of whatever it was down his throat, a loud gulping sound heard around the table.

Draco glared again.

Finally he turned to the other boy who addressed him earlier and replied reluctantly.

“No. Thank goodness. I’ve been sick and tired of constantly having to distress my skin; honestly, the embarrassment of walking around with a red tomato colored hand.”

Crabbe agreed with a hum, in the middle of chewing. Draco definitely noticed him paying extra attention to the noises he was making, so he didn’t annoy Draco any further.

“Never mind that,” Draco said, pulling through Daily Prophet out of his robes, long pale fingers flipping the pages until he got to the one he wanted.

“Father’s in the paper, as always.” He said proudly, showing the two boys the picture of his father. “Oh! And look!” He added, chuckling madly as he pointed to the same article, the name ‘Arthur Weasley’ printed as it told a story about him.

“Ridiculous, honestly.” Malfoy muttered, shoving the paper to Goyle across the table since he was (according to Draco) taking too long to read it.

“Ugh, Care of Magical Creatures today.” Draco complained, looking at his schedule. “That silly Hagrid, honestly, I swear I’m going to die each time I attend his classes.”

Goyle swallowed again. “Seriously, how many times does he have to bring in a deadly creature that might chop my head off-”

“Well I would certainly enjoy that.” Draco snapped. Goyle’s cheeks turned pink.

“God this place has gone to the dogs.” Draco muttered, stuffing his schedule in his pocket, taking one last gulp of pumpkin juice, and storming out of the Hall, and without question, the two boys followed him.

“‘Ello! Please step dis way,” Hagrid said, large hands clapping together. Draco scoffed but reluctantly followed the orders.

“Taken’ care of- well more of lookin’ at interestin’ creatures today; take a step back now.” He warned. (Malfoy gladly stepped back)

The crates ended up being full of slimy creatures Draco ended up forgetting the name of, too busy trying to keep his fingers attacked to his hands. “Gross, Goyle you do it.” He said, handing the boy the food and watched as his friend gave the creature its supper, hands shaking nervously.

Draco looked around as Goyle did the work, folding his arms as he watched with amusement as the Gryffindors struggled to feed the animals.

He then spotted another Slytherin working alone, the back of her head the only thing visible when it came to her features near her face.

Two small braids were on either side of her head, easily blending with her hair but he could see the twisted strands in the sunlight much easier.

She turned so he saw her profile, and, from what he could see, her eyes were bright but hesitant, a look of disgust on her lips as she fed the creature. As soon as all the food was gone, she instantly dropped the tool she was using to handle the food and grabbed a rag, wiping her hands off even though she didn’t touch it or the animal.

It was then Draco saw it. The small detail on her left hand, as so his.

A patch of distressed skin was there, in the same exact shape as Draco’s. He found himself looking at his own hand, then at hers, and back at his once again to double check.

They matched.

They matched.

Which means only one thing.

The girl that he’s never seen before, which was white surprising since he often told himself that he knew all the Slytherins, was his soulmate.

What was more surprising though was something much weirder and stranger. And that something was this:

The realization didn’t bother him one bit.

Tag list: @thatonepupkai @squishneon @buttersuaa @bxtchsimp @amayaaaxx @ssailormoonn @redvelvet103 @yasmine12xxx @youreyesareasprettyasstars

Thanks for liking the post! (I will also be tagging y’all in the Harry one- let me know if you changed your mind about it and don’t want to be tagged!) :)

[dudeitiskarev]

Maybe Someday | Ch. 7

A Spencer Reid mini-series

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Chapter summary: you visit Spencer. And Henry.

Tags/warnings: food consumption.

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: can you tell I’m bad at summaries

Neither of you mentioned it—the almost-kiss. 

It didn’t make things awkward either, which could only mean it wasn’t that big of a deal. Even when it became all Spencer thought about. 

Day and night he craved having that close to you again; to hold you tight, smell your hair, and inhale you until you became a part of him. 

He missed you, and you didn’t mention the almost kiss, so why would he? Everything was as normal as it ever was. 

Except… that it wasn’t. 

Two weeks went by since the most wonderful moment, a few texts here and there, but he needed to see you. So when he couldn’t handle your silence anymore, he showed up at ‘Moramor’. Your face lit up the same way it did the first time but all you said was ‘Hi, what can I get for you?’ as if he was any other customer. He asked for a cup of coffee with a donut, as usual, and after you placed his order on the counter, he sat at a table for one, as usual. He was the only customer that morning while he was there but you didn’t go sit with him for a few minutes, as you usually did during slow mornings. You only glanced at him every once in a while and tore your eyes off him when you made eye contact. That wasn’t like you, he admitted, and part of him wanted to walk up to you and talk to you about it. But he didn’t. He left the cafe with a tight-lipped smile, a wave of a hand, and an empty chest yet full of things he needed to say. 

That night, the only person he had to talk to was a two-year-old toddler. 

“I probably shouldn’t tell you all this,” Spencer said to Henry. 

He’d agreed to babysit Henry for the night while JJ and Will went out for a very much-needed date. Henry was an easy kid to look after, so once Spencer gave him his dinner—sweet potato puree—they sat on the floor over the playmat JJ brought.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a TV for you, but I got you this chessboard the other day.” Spencer opened a small box. “It has flat cardboard pieces for your safety but this way you can familiarize yourself with the game until you’re old enough to play with actual pieces,” he explained, displaying the game. 

It seemed boring now that he had opened it. Still, Henry showed interest and immediately brought one piece to his mouth.

“Okay.” Spencer gently took the piece from him.

“Uh-oh,” Henry babbled. 

“Yeah, uh-oh,” Spencer chuckled. 

His house phone rang, making him stretch his body just enough to reach it while still sitting down. “Hello?” 

“Hey, you’re home.” That was your voice on the other line. His heart began to race.

“Y-yeah, I’m home.” He played with the cord. 

“Good because I’m outside your door. Open up.”

His mouth was left open as you hung up before Spencer could reply. 

“Looks like we have a visitor, Henry.” Spencer stood up rather quickly but gathered himself so he wouldn’t look too excited. He put the long front pieces of his hair behind his ears and adjusted the tie around his neck. He walked to the door, never losing sight of Henry, and opened the door for you. “Hey.”

You opened your mouth to greet him back, and your eyes went past his shoulder, widening. “Hey, there’s… a kid in your living room.” 

“I’m babysitting for the night.”

You quirked a brow. “You have a side job?” 

“No?” he laughed, stepping aside for you to walk in. “I don’t think I need a side job. And even if I did, I doubt I’d choose babysitting. That’s Henry, my godson.”

“Oh.” You took a step back. “ I should’ve called earlier. I’m so sorry. I can go.”

You had a take-out bag in one hand from your favorite Chinese food restaurant.

“No! No, come in, please.” He opened the door all the way. “We uh, we were just playing some chess. We— we would love your company, actually.” 

And by we he meant himself, of course. Henry had no idea who you were but once he met you, Spencer was sure he’d love your company too. 

“Are you sure? Because I can go.” You insisted, your eyes darting from Henry to Spencer. “We can hang out some other day when you’re not too busy.”

“Not busy. Just… with a toddler.” Spencer chuckled.

“Oh, okay.” You walked in hesitantly but made yourself comfortable anyway, taking off your shoes by the door. “Have you eaten? I brought some Chinese.”

“I was starving, actually. I don’t know why I didn’t think of making myself some food before JJ dropped him off.” 

You made your way to his kitchen, Spencer right behind you.

“I’ve got it.” You smiled. 

Okay, Spencer nodded and picked up Henry to sit with him on the couch.

“Are you looking after him all night?” Spencer could get a glimpse of you from there, moving around the kitchen as if it were your own. The sounds of plates and silverware being placed over the counter brought an odd warmth to his place, making it seem like it wasn’t made for someone to live alone.

His stomach rumbled. “I don’t think so, no. They dropped him off two hours ago. They’re usually gone for four hours,” he explained. “I also usually go to their place but this time JJ asked if she could bring him here. I don’t know why.”

You walked to him with the plates, placing them over the coffee table. “Probably because they intend to make another baby after their date,” you casually said, licking the tip of your finger clean.

“Oh.” Spencer's lips turned downward. “Didn’t think of it that way. Now we’re… traumatized.” He looked at Henry whose blinks were slowing down while looking at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed, taking your first bite. “He’s sleepy,” you smiled, looking back at Henry. 

“Yeah, it’s past his bedtime.”

Yet he fought hard not to fall asleep. Henry was too entertained watching you eat.

It didn’t feel as awkward as Spencer thought it’d be. Maybe because he didn’t allow it by talking nonstop about every little thing that made Henry… Henry.

“You’re a natural,” you commented.

“I don’t know why but kids love me,” and just he said that, Henry stretched his arms towards you. 

“Well, they love me, too.” You put your empty plate over the table. “C’mere big boy.” You were gentle to take him from Spencer and sat the kid on your lap. He stretched his little arm and caressed your cheek. “Oh, thank you, you’re so gentle,” you said, using a subtle baby voice.

Spencer’s chest swelled at the sight, and just like Henry, he stayed looking at you. 

“What?” You frowned at him.

“Nothing,” he merely said, shaking his head. “It’s just… you’re a natural, too.”

“I think he’s gonna fall asleep in my arms.” You made yourself comfortable, sitting further back on the couch, and adjusted Henry so he’d be lying down. “I might fall asleep, too.”

He could assume by your work clothes and the subtle undereye bags that you’d picked an extra shift. “That’s okay.” Spencer glanced at his watch and then back at you. You rested your head back and closed your eyes. “JJ should be back in about thirty minutes, so you can sleep if you want.”

You shook your head, glancing back at him, weary-eyed. He wanted to scoot over and hold you and Henry while he stroked your hair and fell asleep in his arms. He almost did, but he held his urges and just gave you a soft scratch on the top of your head and stood up. 

“I… I’m gonna clean this little guy’s mess,” he said. He picked up every toy, packed Henry’s bag, and did the dishes all in eleven minutes, and soon, JJ was knocking at his door.

“Hey, Spence.” She walked in and as soon as she saw you she gave Spencer a knowing look, subtly widening her eyes. 

You were on your way to her already with Henry in your arms. “Hey, I… he just fell asleep on me and I didn’t want to wake him to put him in the stroller.” You sort of apologized, looking down at him. “He seems so cozy.” And there was your subtle baby voice again. 

“It’s perfect. It’s the only way he falls asleep, actually.” JJ reached for Henry and you gently peeled off him until he was gone from your arms. You crossed them over your chest right away. “Will’s waiting for us.” JJ looked up at Spencer. 

“Yeah, I’ll go with you.” Spencer went to get Henry’s bag and hung it over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said to you. “I’ll be right back.”

You only smiled at him and wiggled your fingers goodbye. 

JJ wasted no time while going downstairs. “You’ve never mentioned how pretty she is,” she commented.

“I haven't?”

“I’ve never seen you that nervous around a girl either.”

“Yeah, she’s not any girl.” He was quick to reply. 

It was JJ, and she knew about you. To a certain level.

“Oh?” she raised her brows. 

“What?” he asked without a clue.

“You really like her.”

“Of course I like her.” 

“Does she know you like her?” 

“I think she does.”

JJ stopped in her tracks. “So, what’s stopping you?”

“Stopping me from what?” Spencer frowned. 

“Spence,” she said in an isn’t-it-obvious tone and nudged his arm. “From making her your girlfriend.” That was a question he’d been asking himself, too. And the only answer he came up with as he made it back to his apartment was you.

I hope you liked this chapter!!!! 💖

[cottonlemonade]

Hello! Can I order a large chai latte for here with Sachiro Hirugami! I don't see much a fic of my baby😭 I fell inlove with him the moment I saw him on the anime🤣

Date Night With Your Husband

word count: 765 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Hirugami x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff

warnings: mdni, nsfw, spoilers

____________________________________________

“After you, madam.“

Your husband Sachiro opened the front door to your apartment with a little bow.

“Thank you, kind sir.“

As you walked past him, you cupped his cheek and he smiled contently.

After helping you out of your jacket you both b-lined to the kitchen, setting up camp in front of the open fridge, scavenging for food. As fun and romantic as the date at the observatory was, it had supremely lacked in snacks. You fed Sachiro a cherry tomato before tossing one into your own mouth.

After the third tomato he asked, “Pudding cups?” with a hopeful look in his eyes.

You dug around in the bottom shelf and produced two - one chocolate, one vanilla. A quick game of rock paper scissors decided that you (the winner) got to pick first and so you chose chocolate. Lounging around the kitchen, leaning against the counters, you talked about the exhibit and made plans what to have for dinner next week.

With a sweet vanilla flavored kiss he went off to take a shower, leaving you to wait in the bedroom, reading a few pages of your book.

Sachiro smoothed out the shirt he wore to bed and plopped down onto the sheets, when he heard the shower turning on and your distinct humming through the rushing water.

He scrolled through his phone, checking emails and his schedule for any upcoming surgeries at the vet clinic, when his eyes fell onto the cover of your book that was left pages down on your pillow to hold your place. He must have seen that cover a hundred times but apparently he never registered the seductive look of the very shirtless man who smirked up at him from the dust jacket.

With a curiously furrowed brow he picked it up and read a few lines while reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand.

He choked mid-sip, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing.

Okay, maybe it was just a crazy coincidence that he just happened to pick up the book at this scene. So he flipped a few pages back. Nope. The characters were at it again, this time in a restaurant bathroom. He thought back to the previous nights when he remembered you reading it before bed. With a completely straight face. How?!

When you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body, you stopped in your tracks when you found your husband sitting with his back leaning against the headboard, your … “adult“ book in one hand, while the other was covering his mouth in a mixture of curious wonder and disbelief.

“Honey?“, he began without taking his eyes off the pages, “Would you have wanted me to get a bit more handsy at the observatory? Or-“, he turned to a previous page for reference, “follow you into the bathroom and-“

“Oh God, Sachiro, why are you reading that?“ Your voice came out in a high pitched, hysterical (and mortified) giggle and you jumped back into the en suite, hiding behind the door, only glancing through the slit in the frame at your husband, who - eyes still glued to the book - got up and sauntered over to you.

He offered a quick review. “The plot is … non-existent.”

That got you out of the corner.

“Now hold up, the plot is … it’s there!”

“Uh huh.”, he grinned and, remembering that he saw a couple of times that the male character liked to lean in doorways, he did the same, grinning at you with a raised brow.

Your face moved from tomato to beetroot red and you tried to move past him but channeling the book character he caught a corner of the towel and pulled ever so slightly. Originally, he just wanted to tease you and keep you in place but your determination to run away in embarrassment brought him the utter delight of his naked wife, still wet from the shower, reaching for the towel and in the process stumbling into his arms. He always loved the softness of your body and scolded you whenever you criticized your weight. He adored cuddling, kissing and touching every inch of you and he proved that as often as you’d let him.

He shut the book with a soft snap and you felt his arm tightening around your chubby waist, pulling you flush against him. Your mouth opened a little when you felt something hard pushing against your generous thighs.

“I also read that part you dog-eared, sweetheart.”, Sachiro said quietly, moving his hand lower, “Wanna give it a try?”

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a/n: oh, one for Sachiro!! I’m so glad someone requested him 🌟 thank you and please enjoy!

inspired by this IG reel

for requests see here

[jeanbie]

PRESCOTT ★ masterlist.

pairing: connie x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, awkwardness/second-hand-embarrassment, porn with plot, alcohol, sex under the influence, semi-public sex, quickies, blowjobs, doggy | wc: 13k

note: the yapper allegations are true - example a: this fic. 10k of connie and mama, all because you guys overwhelmed me with love for ghostface!! it's a gift for you guys ✩࿐  connie is sooooo gekko coded in this fic btw!!

★ sequel to ghostface

⏤ After Halloween, you've been trying your hardest to avoid being near Connie Springer, but a little bit of alcohol on Porco's birthday is all it takes for you to find yourself back in his arms.

You can think of a thousand different reasons to avoid going to Porco’s birthday party, but all of them turn to ash in your mouth the second Ymir levels you with her dirtiest glare imaginable.

“Just how many birthdays are there going to be in November?” you ask, punching in the number of the last bottle of Dr Pepper into the vending machine. It threatens to hold the bottle hostage for a moment until you shake the machine by its sides, all whilst desperately trying to avoid looking at Ymir.

You’ve never been a very good liar, nor a great actress, which is exactly why you’re not at all surprised that she’s managed to notice your strangeness since Armin’s birthday. At one point, you thought you were doing a marvellous job at containing the humiliation inside of you, but Ymir’s analytical breakdown of every irregularity in your behaviour made you aware of just how obvious you’ve been making it. It’s a wonder she hasn’t already figured out the exact reason for your distance, created suspiciously after leaving Armin’s flat.

But, it’s not like you can just outrightly say that you got fucked by one of her friends in Eren’s cupboard on Halloween. The timing wasn’t right. And, on top of that, there was nothing remotely wrong with that fact to justify your withdrawal from society because of it — that had happened purely because of how hot Connie actually was underneath that Ghostface mask.

And now, every memory of that moment has been altered so that his face appears bowed over your spread legs instead of that sloping plastic mouth of wide horror. And it’s dreadfully humiliating.

“Porco’s is the last one,” Ymir says, leaning her weight on the other vending machine full with snacks. The library has an entire wing that permits food and drink, but with midterms looming around the corner, you’re not about to waste any more time drinking down here when you could be working, and no more time spent on conjuring up the image of a man you’ve met — and fucked — once.

“I barely know Porco,” you try. It’s true. While you’ve been running with Ymir and Reiner for a long time, it’s only been a few months since you met their extended group consisting of Porco, Pieck, Yelena and a few other faces you only see at house parties or in between classes. “Did I even get invited, or is this one out of pity, too?”

Ymir rolls her eyes. “More out of association, really. Plus, he thinks you’re hot, so that helped.”

“I’m charmed,” you mutter, taking a swig of the Dr Pepper before she, too, decides to rattle her jacket pocket for some loose change. “I’m just your hot friend.”

“Damn straight,” Ymir laughs, sliding her coins into the machine, eyes torn between two drinks. A line is forming quickly behind the pair of you, which makes Ymir slow down on purpose as she makes her choice. With her tongue between her teeth, she thinks long and hard before saying, “Seems like you made quite the impression at Armin’s birthday.”

You try very hard to ignore the regretful twist in your belly. “What? With who?”

Ymir looks at you from the side, crouching after a beady glare to get her drink. “Who are you expecting?”

“Nobody. I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve been acting weird lately,” she accuses, finally giving way to the growing line of students. Ymir looks up in acknowledgement as Reiner rounds one of the glass doorways, immediately heading straight to the instant coffee machine with a grumble. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed. We have.”

“Who’s we?” you ask, slinking in her shadow as she sets off towards Reiner. There must be some sort of gravitational pull between the pair of them — it’s probably what makes them so enjoyable to be around, the reason you choose to call them your closest friends.

Ymir claps Reiner on the back. “We is us. We’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what, sorry?” Reiner asks distractedly, looking up once his little cup is under the tap, the machine screaming to life.

“How weird she’s been since Halloween.”

“Oh. Yeah, you have been acting sus,” Reiner comments, in a way that makes you feel like he’s simply going along with whatever Ymir is saying to spite you. It wouldn’t be the first time, either. He had played his part in convincing you to go to Eren’s Halloween party, and you conveniently remember that party being the main factor behind your week-long self-imposed exile.

“How?” you snort, rather defensively. 

“Just weird,” Ymir explains. “Like how you totally blanked us when we called you over the other day outside of Tom’s.”

You vaguely recall seeing Ymir and Reiner standing with a bunch of people outside the corner shop a few days ago. Behind Reiner’s wide body had stood Connie Springer, dazzling in his baggy blue jeans, and it had been enough for you to simply wave and be on your way. 

“Being busy doesn’t qualify as being weird, guys.”

Reiner stirs his coffee and shrugs. In hindsight, you know that there are probably better ways to get over the embarrassment you feel from Halloween. It wasn’t even as if you regretted what happened — you didn’t. Being bent over a suitcase in Eren’s utility cupboard had been a thrill, a real pleasure. Connie had been concealed beneath a Scream movie mask and you were blissfully unaware of him, and you like to think that is the only reason why you acted so out of character. 

Cumming with your legs in the air, desperately fiddling with your clit and greedily trying to catch every last drop of Ghostface’s cum? That was so unlike you! You’ve never been that horny, that turned on, that animalistic and needy. And seeing Connie a few days later, looking the way that he did, becoming a familiar face — you can’t explain the feeling very well, but mortified comes close.

How are you supposed to look him in the eye without replaying what you did together over and over again? How are you supposed to face him and try and be normal, when you were anything but when he had his cock up your cunt?

“Still being weird, by the way.”

Ymir’s voice doesn’t register until she grabs the back of your neck gently and squeezes, and it’s as if you’ve been rebooted to life. The library canteen manifests into view once more, and you look over at Ymir and Reiner sheepishly, trying to think of something to say that can justify your behaviour.

But nothing can. Yes — you’re being weird.

Unfortunately, you think your strange behaviour will only continue once Ymir looks over your head and smiles, and a wave of dread washes over you. 

Please be someone I like. Please be anyone but the one person I do not want to see—

“No fucking way,” Ymir laughs joyfully. “Congrats on finding the library, Pock.”

A deep laugh sounds from behind you, and you brave a glance over your shoulder in hopes that it might just be Porco standing there. But as soon as you turn and spot three people standing there, one being the very last person you wanted to see, you feel your body grow hot and your mind whirl.

Great. Fucking great.

Porco glances between you and Ymir for a second, a smirk still on his face, and you’re almost overcome with relief when Reiner pulls you back to stand near his hip slightly, an arm draped over your shoulders.

“First time for everything,” Porco finally replies. By a small mercy, he has devoted his attention to Ymir, the little blonde girl behind his elbow falling into place near Ymir’s armpit. Not that you’re looking at any of them — your eyes are stupidly glued to the guy standing just in front of Reiner. 

The guy who had you undone in a fucking utility cupboard.

Unlike at the party, your options are limited on what to look at instead of Connie, which is precisely why you enslave yourself to taking him all in, every last detail of his face, his body, while his eyes are drawn to Ymir as she talks. 

Just like how he was on Armin’s birthday, every feature on Connie’s face is practically glowing with charm. It is a miracle that he ended up being more attractive now than he was with the mask on — you hadn’t put too much thought into conjuring up a false image under the mask that night, but even if you had, you wouldn’t have even considered pulling together someone who looked like that.

As you’re ogling his face and body, your heart lurches unexpectedly when Connie glances back over to where you and Reiner are standing, a smile pulling up on his lips. A small set of dimples appear in his cheeks as he does so, the sharp shape of his eyebrows rising as he studies you in particular. 

Of course he recognises you. After all, Connie was the only one wearing a mask that night, physically speaking. You pray that Reiner isn’t paying close enough attention to the wandering eyes of his friend as Connie takes a good, long look and you half-heartedly fidget into his side.

“Just you guys?”

Even though your eyes have zeroed in on Connie’s mouth, you blink and process the question with a delay. Thankfully, it seems like Reiner’s talking to Connie instead of you, which you’re grateful for. You have nothing to say to Connie, anyway. 

Connie’s green eyes flicker up from his tight assessment of you to Reiner’s face — another act of mercy. 

He nods his head backwards, gesturing towards the circular stairs that spin up to the third floor, “Some of us are on the third floor. Marco, Jean…you know. I’m going in about an hour, I’ve gotta go to work.”

Whatever else he says you completely zone out from, though not on purpose. Connie looks both the same and completely different to how he did on Armin’s birthday; his buzzed hair is now a blonde wash, his skin looking more tanned from it. 

Now that you’re up close, you count at least three moles on his face in a cluster of spaces, under his eye and across his cheeks. He says something, the tick of his jaw making you glance down ever so slightly to his neck before lifting back to his face — where in a shock, you discover his eyes are back on you.

For how long have you been gawking at him? And how long has he been looking back?

“Did you get that from here?” 

You blink. Then, you realise he’s talking to you.

Surprised, you jut your head forwards slightly and look at him with wide eyes. “Sorry?”

Remarkably, Connie laughs, as though he finds your bemusement amusing. He points at the bottle of Dr Pepper in your hand, smile widening into a grin. “That,” he says.

“What?” For a second, you’re mostly confused. Out of everything you could have expected Connie to say to you after Halloween, you had never guessed it would be about the drink in your hand. 

Reiner’s arm loosens around your shoulders as he turns to look at you, probably because your silence is stretching on a little too long to be normal. Unbeknownst to Reiner, you know that judging by Connie’s own lapsed silence, he’s perfectly content with waiting until you answer — just to hear you answer, if you even do. 

You carefully look back at Connie, as if trying to gauge his sincerity, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, a taunting lift of his eyebrows.

He likes your silence. He’s relishing in it.

“Yeah,” you decide to say finally, pointing over your shoulder to the vending machines. “There.”

Connie nods. He could have quite easily figured it out himself, and once he looks away, towards Ymir rather than the vending machines, you realise belatedly that he isn’t actually interested. He was just trying to start a conversation. And you blew it.

“I think I had the last one, though,” you add, which makes Connie break away from Ymir’s story she’s sharing with Porco and the blonde girl with a little bit too much enthusiasm to be faked. Reiner’s entire arm falls from your shoulders and he assesses the gap between you and Connie. When did it get smaller? 

Connie steps closer, only once, craning his head around your shoulder to the machines.

“For real?” he laughs, inspecting the selection of drinks from afar. Then, Connie hums, “what else is there?”

Is he seriously asking you about the drinks in the vending machine right now? 

Your mouth falls open in surprise — this is not at all how you expected this to go down. You’d been toying between Connie being a total douche and making lewd references to the cupboard, or perhaps being so disinterested in your existence that all he said was hello and nothing more. The casual topic is almost disturbing, so out of the character profile of his that you drew up in the days spent avoiding him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” you reply honestly. The only thing on your mind is him, and his black cloak in the dark cupboard. His voice, his laugh, his hands on your body.

Beside you, Reiner clears his throat and he shoots both you and Connie an insincere smile, before making a speedy exit towards Porco while Ymir is busy entertaining the other girl. You watch with dismay as he moves away. 

How could he just leave you here like this? Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re in an internal battle against your feelings for Connie, but still, solidarity! You can’t believe his lack of loyalty.

“I’ll have a look,” is what Connie replies with, and you blink furiously at him as he shortens the distance between you and steps past you. His hand slips very slightly past your leg, a finger delicately brushing past your thigh, and if it weren’t for your hyper-fixation on his every gesture and movement, you might have missed it entirely. 

All you can do is watch over your shoulder as he walks towards the vending machines, rather slowly at that, and stands in front of it to browse the selection.

You’re left standing there, away from the throng of friends discussing Porco’s party, even further from the guy who rearranged your guts on Halloween and has been a plague in your thoughts. And for a few seconds, you’re torn on where to go next.

Stand with your friends and avoid talking to Connie? Stay in your place? Leave and go back to your things?

You do none of those things. There is no reasonable explanation for why your body decides to turn and head in Connie’s direction, no explanation you think is good enough. But, you move regardless, until your feet stagger in Connie’s shadow and he glances to the side, surprising himself when he sees that you’ve followed him.

You look between him and the machine, careful not to spend too long caught in the surprised yet pleased look in his eyes.

“Told you,” you say weakly, looking back at the machine.

“Yup, I can see that,” Connie replies, with a slight laugh that feels oddly reminiscent of the way he chuckled over your bent body in the cupboard. His eyes drop to your mouth for a brief second before clamping on your eyes once more, “You want something?”

It takes a beat for you to realise he’s asking in relation to the vending machine. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, and maybe you’re overthinking it, but he sounds almost confused. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s confused as to why you’ve followed him over here to do nothing once you’re by his side. He wouldn’t be the only one confused by that; you’re still trying to make sense of it yourself. 

Once his eyes are back on the vending machine, you let out an internal groan and focus on the outline of his jaw, desperately thinking of something to say before he punches in the numbers for a bottle of Fanta and says, “you good?”

There’s a pause. What can you say, now that the chance to say anything is here?

You glance back towards the group near the coffee machine and bite the inside of your lip. They’re just a few steps away, engrossed in a conversation you might want to be a part of. Instead, you look back at Connie and nod dumbly, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he nods, crouching to get his bottle. 

Why the hell is this so awkward? Last week, this man had been up your snatch, trying to shove his dick up your ass. Why is seeing him after the fact so fucking uncomfortable?

“Did I do something?” You don’t know what you expected Connie to say after he got his drink, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“What? No?”

His brows pinch together slightly. “Just thought maybe you got uncomfortable or something.”

“…Why?” you ask slowly.

“You’ve avoided coming near me every time I’ve seen you since Armin’s birthday,” he starts. Has Connie suddenly appearing everywhere after Halloween been less of a coincidence than you originally thought, and instead more of a deliberate choice? 

You blink, following along with his words, “and you blocked me on Instagram, so I just—” And how the fuck does he know about that?

So, he’s right; you did block him after Armin’s party, but only because you viewed his story on accident after a stalking session once you got home. Honestly, you never thought he’d notice, never need to notice. The hot flush that swarms your body is uncontrollable.

“I…” you start, but the words die like ash in your mouth.

Connie faces you, looking thoughtful. “It’s cool if you got cold feet after Halloween. Sorry if you had a bad time.”

“Wha—wait, I never said I had a bad time,” you rush to say, probably sounding a bit too eager, but it’s too late to reign it back in. You mutter to the floor, “the opposite, actually.”

“So, you did like it.”

“Wasn’t that kind of obvious?” you reply, laughing slightly. “I just…I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see you after Halloween. I just freaked out, it’s not personal.”

“Blocking me felt personal.”

“I panicked! I didn’t want you to think I was weird for finding your Instagram and then looking at your stories and posts and—” You stop. In order for Connie to find out that you blocked him, it would require him doing some online stalking of his own, and once the penny drops, your head jerks back in alarm. “I…I’m sorry?”

At that, Connie sniggers, shaking his head and taking a step back when someone manifests out of thin air behind you in demand of the vending machine. He reaches out for your arm and gently guides you away with him. 

Frantically, you look back at the group; Ymir is neck deep in her story, the blonde in her arms enraptured by whatever it is she’s saying. Reiner and Porco are the only ones taking interest in you and Connie, but you look away before their curious glances can garner any attention.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Connie says, his hand dropping after a beat of holding your arm. “We’re good, mama.”

Mama — just the word makes you feel weightless.

“Mm,” is all you can say in reply.

But Connie seems unperturbed by your lack of response. “You going to Pock’s party this weekend?”

Right — the very thing you had been discussing before your entire afternoon tilted on its axis. Porco’s upcoming birthday was becoming a hot topic in conversation, but you aren’t even sure if you’re going or not. An invite through somebody else doesn’t feel like much of an invite to you, despite that being the case for the last two parties you’ve been in attendance of.

“Uh… Maybe,” you tell him. “I actually don’t know Porco that well.”

“Huh.” Connie’s brows raise, his mouth in a falling slope, “Really?” He looks to the side in Porco’s direction, but you don’t join him. You’re too busy analysing the crestfallen look on his face, wondering what on earth put it there. “I thought he liked you.”

“That’s what Ymir told me.”

He looks back at you immediately, “Do you like him?”

“I don’t even know him.” But, then again, you didn’t know Connie at one point, and it hadn’t been enough to deter you from taking his hand and letting him lead you into Eren’s cupboard with your skirt up over your arse. Based on the flat look on Connie’s face, you assume he’s probably thinking the same thing. 

“He’s not really my type,” you add, simply for no reason at all. But Connie’s face tugs up because of it.

He laughs shortly, “That’s good, then.”

Is it? You want to ask why, but Connie’s already looking back at the group and raising his brows in acknowledgement. All of them are looking over at the pair of you almost expectantly, and he addresses you with a simple smile and says, “Maybe I’ll see you at the party, then.”

Your heart is speeding up in your chest. Even though this entire conversation has been drier than bones, something inside of you wants him to stay. 

“You’re going?” you ask him, walking slowly by his side as you head back towards your mixed friends. 

“Of course,” Connie replies. “I’ll buy you a drink if I see you?”

“Yes,” you say, for it’s all you can say without feeling like you’re going to explode from overheating. And now that the group is mere steps away, you don’t want to compromise the secret hanging between you like a forbidden fruit, waiting for someone to pluck it off the branch and make it known to the world.

Connie says nothing else in confidence to you. All you catch once he turns to leave is a quick goodbye before he follows Porco back up the stairs to his books, meanwhile Ymir is officially taken with the blonde who is pulling her arm in their wake. Only Reiner remains, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“Don’t,” you caution him.

“Don’t what?”

“Just…don’t.”

Reiner grins; something tells you he knows more than he’s letting on that he does. But he saves you the drawn out humiliation of raising the point in the library, but you’re not in the clear, yet.

Not by a long shot.

21:43 Reiner: soooo 21:43 Reiner: what happened with you and connie 21:45 You: nothing? 21:45 You: i dont even know him lol 21:46 Reiner: why r u lying 21:46 You: ?? 21:47 Reiner: ik you guys fucked lol

A horrified cry leaves your mouth when the message pops up. All you’ve done since Armin’s birthday is avoid the window of possibility of anybody finding out what happened on Halloween. Are you really that bad of an actress?

21:50 You: ????? 21:51 Ymir: wtf 21:51 Ymir: when?? 21:51 Ymir: how do u even know eachother???? im so confused

For a while, you entertain not replying at all — the horror of both of your best friends now knowing your embarrassing secret for some unkind reason is still sinking in. 

But, Reiner seems all too enthusiastic to fill in with what he’s learned.

21:53 Ymir: hellooo???? 21:54 Reiner: on halloween hahah 21:54 Reiner: i only know because connie told me

(At the same time…)

21:55 Ymir: he’s obvs lying 21:55 You: why would he even tell you that? wtf 21:55 Ymir: ITS TRUE??

Lying would have been the smartest option. As Ymir begins to freak out, you berate yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

Still, the pressing irritation you feel in your head builds as you try and make sense of why Connie would even tell people. What on earth would he gain from doing that? A kick? An ego? 

Suddenly, Porco’s rumoured “crush” on you starts tasting sour in your mouth.

22:08 Reiner: he kept asking for your insta and i thought it was weird 22:08 Reiner: so i made him tell me why tf he was so desperate 22:08 Reiner: and he said he hooked up w u on halloween and was looking for u so he could like link up or something 22:08 Reiner: idk 22:09 Reiner: i think he was blocked anyway looool why would you do that

Hey, it had been a knee-jerk reaction! But you wouldn’t expect either of them to understand, not when you barely understood yourself. 

If only you could be like your drunken self all the time — maybe the simple mission of acting normal around Ghostface would be made ten times easier if you were. 

Your mind slides over the memory of the utility cupboard again, and you urgently shake your head and sigh, throwing your phone to the end of the bed with a groan.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so complicated if only you had left it alone. If you’d never gone online stalking, found Connie and then blocked him after viewing a story posted two minutes ago, then maybe you could have acted normal when the next meeting arose. 

And, while you’re thinking about it, at least it was in public. You can’t imagine how stupid you might have acted if Connie had found you alone, perhaps in a bar or at another party, where the dark lights and the loud music could have entranced you into his arms and bent over some other questionable surface.

Considering how often Connie and Halloween have resurfaced in your mind, you can’t honestly say that none of the above wouldn’t have happened if you saw him again. You were lucky to have escaped in the library, albeit after a very awkward exchange. 

With almost confident certainty, you believed there would be no chance Connie would want to broach a conversation with you again, not after the tremendous letdown of finding out the way you acted on Halloween was a one-time exclusive. 

Having reflected on the whole thing, and suffered the painful consequence of Ghostface being a sexy friend of a friend, you’ll never do it again. 

Your phone has been vibrating relentlessly since you threw it, and you reach for it once more and gloss over the messages. A few jump out:

22:18 Ymir: sorry its just too random 22:18 Ymir: im still in shock 22:18 Reiner: ikr 22:18 Reiner: someone needs to tell pock that his dreams of seducing her are over 22:19 Ymir: jfc 22:19 Ymir: im gay but even I’D pick connie over porco 22:19 Ymir: hey was he at least good?? 22:20 You: it was fine 22:20 Ymir: so thats a yes LMAO 22:20 Ymir: i just cant believe you let him fuck u on halloween 22:20 Ymir: YOU!!!  22:20 Ymir: its too amazing 22:21 Reiner: gotta hold her back at pocks bday lololol 22:21 Reiner: something abt a party just gets her going 22:21 You: why dont u stfu

Unbeknownst to them both, you’ve been having the same concerns. Porco’s birthday is a bump in the road you’re currently driving along to get to complete peace and happiness; the final birthday of November, the opportunity for a final drink before rushing to finish assignments before the Christmas rush begins, the scary certainty of seeing Ghostface again — only this time without his mask, which is honestly ten times worse in the sense that you can no longer pretend he is a thing, a someone, an entity drilling into you. 

He will instead be Connie Springer; handsome, charming, popular, and as you’ve been made aware, a man who has been trying to look you up online for whatever reason you’re unwilling to think of. 

And a little bit of alcohol never stopped you from making a complete and utter fool of yourself.

So far, so good: you’ve been at Invoke for an hour and a half now, and there have been no signs of Ghostface. 

Ghostface is what you have elected to calling Connie in an effort to keep him at an arms length, and so far, it has not been working in your favour. Every mention of Ghostface takes you back to the 31st, and now that you’ve been in the club for almost two hours and have made the stupid mistake of drinking two (single) vodka lemonades, you can already feel your conflicted feelings about the subject simply fading away. Which is terrible! The total opposite of what you want!

Every so often, around Porco’s attempts to seduce you, you’ve found your eyes wandering around the lower level of the club, anxiously searching for a buzzed head to appear in a crowd. It doesn’t seem as though Porco minds or has even noticed, for his conversation simply folds over into a discussion with Reiner over something you don’t understand. 

Unfortunately, however, your aimless people watching has caught someone else’s attention.

“Who’re you looking for?”

Instantly, you tense and rip your eyes off the crowd and back towards the voice, which belongs to Lynne, one of your friends from your Wednesday lectures and a good friend of Ymir’s. She smiles at you sweetly, eyebrows high.

“Oh, nobody, really.”

Lynne’s brows furrow until Ymir jumps in with, “She’s looking for Connie.”

You toss her the dirtiest glare you can conjure up, which she ignores pointedly, while Lynne’s features lift once again with recognition.

“Oh! The Spanish one?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, pinned under her eager gaze.

“With the really short hair?”

Your heart squeezes. “Oh, um—”

“—Yeah, Springer,” Ymir continues, immune to the look of pure disgrace on your face aimed in her direction. Knowing that there’s little you can do or say to keep her quiet on the matter, your shoulders sag and you lean back in your chair. By now, both Reiner and Porco have lent their ears to the cause, with both of them shuffling closer on their chairs.

Lynne sets her martini on the table. “I know him! My friend Lea has a crush on him, I think. Actually, I think a lot of the girls in the Quantum Mechanics class like him…”

Quantum Mechanics? Your eyebrows raise, not to mention with the effortless fact of Ghostface being more popular than you realised. Hardly surprising, though. If he was in one of your classes, you’d join the percentage.

“Girls take the Quantum Mechanics class?” Porco asks with a bemused laugh. “Wish I’d have known that before I picked Particle Physics. Nothing but nerds in there.”

“Don’t worry, your time picking up girls will come once you’re flying planes like Maverick,” Reiner assures him with a firm slap on the back.

“Wasn’t he in the Navy?” asks Lynne.

“There’s still time for all that,” Porco replies with a wave of his hand. While they focus on naval aviators and physics, you’re thankful the subject of Connie Springer has been put to rest, though you don’t forget to level Ymir with another dirty look before squirming in your chair and rising to your feet.

“Where’re you going?” Porco calls.

“Getting another drink,” you tell him. Your last glass of vodka lemonade had been drained a while ago. “Want one?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he says, and while you’d rather like to avoid getting Porco’s hopes up now that his supposed “crush” on you has been made semi-public, it’s his birthday, and refusing would make you look like an asshole.

So, you nod and hang around while he chugs the last bit of his drink before rising to his feet, coming to your side with a hand on your lower back before you both set off down the miniature flight of stairs off the platform where the tables are, and down towards the sunken, dimly lit bar.

Since you arrived here, Invoke has doubled in guests; the dance floor is thick with dancing bodies, the music so loud that you can feel it vibrating through your feet and up your legs. Around the bar, a large crowd has formed, but you’re actually thankful of Porco when he shuffles you both into place at the far end, in an effort to slowly wedge the stragglers out of place once they’ve been served their drink.

“So, how’s your birthday been?” Might as well make some conversation to pass the time. 

Porco looks back at you, perhaps surprised you spoke first considering you’ve made a brilliant effort in saying, at most, four words all night. 

“Yeah, pretty good,” he replies with a smile. His arm tightens a smidge around your waist — you’re trying to ignore it valiantly. “My dad’s coming up tomorrow. Reckon I’ll be hungover for that.”

“That sounds nice,” you say politely. “…What’re you gonna order to drink?”

He scans the menu across the bar and hums; you see his lips tighten in on themselves as he thinks, before deciding on the worst drink imaginable, being a Fireball Cinnamon whiskey. You hope the cringe isn’t visible — who the hell orders whiskey in a club? Porco, apparently.

Three minutes pass and you’ve barely made a dent in the packed crowd by the bar, and as you’re still mulling over what vodka infused drink to indulge in, somebody slides into place on the free side of you. You feel their chest brushing past their arm, spot their elbow leaning on the surface next to your forearm, and the look on your face is no doubt comical when you lift your head and face the arrival to your left.

Porco turns his head, too, and his mouth widens into a joyful grin. 

“Hey! You made it!”

With an expression of frozen surprise, you all but gape up at Ghostface as he leans beside you, his eyes flickering from you to Porco in amusement before he launches into some birthday greeting, his eyes above your head as though you aren’t even there. Perhaps a mercy on his part — you lower your eyes to the golden view of his neck and collarbones, the shirt he’s wearing uncannily similar to both Porco and Reiner. Looks like they’re matching, though there’s no contest on who is wearing it the best.

Before your mouth can water, you look away, straight forwards behind the bar. Your game of reducing him to Ghostface is forgotten. You pleadingly stare at the bartender in hopes that they might take pity on your situation and come to take your order, but to no avail.

The friends talk over your head for a while before they remember you’re still there. Although Porco’s arm is still tied around your waist, you feel Connie’s fingers brush over your arm gently, your eyes darting back towards him. Traitors. 

“How’re we doing, mama? You good?”

Your jaw loosens. 

“We should do shots,” Porco declares over the top of your head.

Connie nods, smile still wide, “Sounds good to me. What do you think?” He looks back down at you curiously. 

Though your mouth is unbearably dry, and nothing sounds less appealing than the chemical-burn of a shot scratching down your throat, you muster a nod and helplessly turn back to the bartender, who has finally made his way around the sliding length of the bar and towards the three of you. 

It’s busy tonight, and you can’t blame him for being busy, but with the birthday boy who apparently has a crush on you attached to your waist like gorilla glue, and Ghostface who is potentially interested in you after fucking you over a random suitcase sewn into your side, every minor inconvenience is beginning to feel personal.

“Let’s do tequila,” Connie suggests.

Your reaction is instinctive, “I hate tequila. Anything else, please.”

Tequila is the demon drink — it is the cause of every terrible decision you’ve ever made. It’s the small shot you took that made you unhinged on Halloween. It’s the first domino to fall before crashing into all the other dominoes put in place.

Connie’s grin widens. “Aw, come on.”

“Three tequila shots!” Porco’s already yelling the order over the bar. You almost want to scream.

The bartender slides over three little shot glasses almost overflowing with tequila, along with a little mini plate of limes that Porco brings closer with his fingers. A pool of dread is forming in real time as Connie leans around you, chest flat on your bicep, to grab his glass and yours, while Porco excitedly lifts both his glass and gaze in your direction.

Connie takes the little shot glass in his hands and lifts it up in a toast. “To the birthday boy!”

Porco says something in a jubilant cry, and for reasons unknown to you in that moment, you inch for your shot and turn to face Connie — bad move. 

You forget to even shot yours as Connie lifts the salt-lined glass to his lips, licking the rim with his eyes glued onto yours. The flat spread of his tongue around the rim is what you zero in on for a moment, shimmering with the salt in a coy manner before he swallows the shot with perfect strategy. He barely even grimaces once its down, a glittering trail of it sliding down from his lip to his chin, and it is only when he wedges the lime between his lips in a grin that you remember your shot.

Porco shudders dramatically behind you. “Ugh, nasty!” And before he can get a word in sideways about your lack of ceremony in taking your shot, you reluctantly rip your eyes off Connie and down your shot, cringing immediately at the vile flavour, even when sucking the ever-living daylights out of the lime once its burning down your throat.

“Not so bad, right?” Connie laughs, his lips so close to your ear that you can almost feel them against you. Guiltily, although you hold no obligation to entertain Porco’s rumoured interest in you, you glance over in Porco’s direction and find, with a twist in your gut, that he’s already shuffled along, loudly laughing with another group of guys further down the bar, each in matching shirts. Must be a boy thing.

“How about that drink I promised you?” he asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a request, but you nod regardless. The bartender drifts back to collect the empty shot glasses and plate and glances up at you and Connie expectantly. 

You feel him shift around you, crossing behind your back to stand on your right side, where Porco had once been situated. His left hand stays on the bar as he does this, until his arm is crossed around your back caging you inwards. 

“Vodka lemonade, please,” you request to the bartender, who has served you this drink three times now and honestly had half the mind to run the order by you anyway. Connie pulls a face, intrigued, before making the same order. “A double,” you add. You’re going to need it.

Connie’s arm tightens around you when the bartender reaches for two new glasses.

“Wasn’t it vodka orange on Halloween?” he murmurs, this time with his lips definitely brushing your ear.

You shudder slightly. “Nobody brought lemonade to the party, I made do.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies. “How much you had tonight?”

“Two singles,” you reply, “and the tequila.”

“Uh-oh, I gotta catch up,” Connie says. His weight is angled on the bar in a way that makes you feel very exposed, despite being so wrapped up in his arm that to an outsider, they wouldn’t be able to guess that you weren’t there together. 

The smile on Connie’s lips softens slightly, not as entertained as it was before, and he lets his eyes wander across your face for a moment until he says, “You look so good.”

Hesitating, you look at him and study the expression on his face. Within it, there are no signs to suggest he is lying — why would he, anyway? You’ve been trying to come up with excuses to justify Connie being here with an arm around you, as if he’s here for any other reason than because he’s interested in you. No surprise that you’ve been unsuccessful in that department. But acknowledging that he is willingly seeking you out after Halloween and more specifically, after that embarrassing shit show in the library, is a dangerous game to play.

Besides. So good — he could have just said “good” and moved on. But he didn’t. And you feel your face burning, your body sweating. Just from a little adverb.

“So do you,” you reply after a prolonged silence. He doesn’t seem too fussed by it, only more endeared. You go to say something more, and so does he, but then the bartender shuffles back with two glasses and thrusts the card machine in front of Connie. He whips out his card with no hesitation and pays for the drinks, arm loosening around you slightly as you reach for your drink and take a deep breath, spinning to survey the dance floor. 

Ymir and Reiner have since moved from the table; you see Reiner with your handbag over his shoulder, leaning against a counter that frames the dance floor with a cocky smile, Ymir by his arm. Both are staring at you with smug expressions. Reiner even throws a thumbs up, and you scowl at him, feeling lost when Connie’s arm unravels from your waist and falls down between you both, his fingers pinching at your thigh gently as he turns his head to the right and says something to Porco.

“I’ll come find you later,” Connie says loudly over the music when he looks back at you. Something hopeful flashes in his eyes — it sounds more like a promise.

Despite his hand still being wrapped around your thigh like a goddamn claw, your thighs tighten and he lets go, eyes widening just slightly enough for you to notice.

There’s only one thing you can blame when you look up at Connie, in a daze, and say, “Okay,” like it’s nothing at all…

It’s the tequila, you think adamantly. Yes. Blame the tequila.

Connie’s smile transforms into a smirk, so wide that his teeth bare and the dimples you noticed in the library blossom on his face. He dips his head with a slight laugh, and then he lifts his fingers under your chin and affectionately flicks, his thumb running softly under your chin until his nail grazes your skin on his release.

“Be good, mama,” he says, and then he turns away, sliding into Porco’s new formation of friends so effortlessly that you have to blink a few times before it registers that he’s moved along.

Your stomach folds in on itself and clenches, and you take a large gulp of vodka lemonade and bravely turn to Reiner and Ymir, who both look entirely too pleased with the progress you’re making. Maybe you’ll be lucky and Connie will stay occupied until you manage to leave without doing anything horrendously out of character like on Halloween…

But you were wrong. So unbelievably wrong.

The hallway to the club toilets is wide and cold, the music reduced in a way that makes walking down its length feel like entering an alternate dimension of sorts. Your head is spinning once you cross the threshold, every drink you’ve had since the shot with Connie and Porco at the bar taking effect. And there have been at least three more since then, not including the criminally delicious Sourz shots you took with Ymir and Reiner, and then another shot you took off Lynne’s stomach — don’t ask, because you’re not willing to talk about how you ended up doing that in front of everybody.

The men and women’s toilets are right next to one another, with the one disabled toilet suspiciously locked and guarded by a fleet of friends who are nursing a sick girl back to health with a glass of water. If you’re not careful, that’ll be you later on. 

You push past them heading for the women’s bathroom, when all of a sudden, a strangely familiar feeling of slender muscle wraps around your waist from behind and within a few seconds, you feel your feet lifting off the floor.

Shock rises up in you like a fountain, a surprised squeal leaving your lips as you watch the women’s bathroom disappear past your arm. Whoever has you bundled up has no intention of helping you on your way to open the floodgates — oh, no. Instead, the arm carries you into the men’s bathroom and around a corner, and you feel your heart rising to your throat, along with another string of surprised noises.

You’re carried past a wall of mirrors lining the sinks, and with a fleeting glance, you spy the shape of someone behind you wearing all black, and you might’ve wrangled around in panic if it weren’t for his buzzed head of hair, the sniggering in your ear. Actually, you might still wrangle around, but for a different reason.

Connie carries you to a stall at the far end that is thankfully clean, and he swiftly shuffles inside and presses you up against the door, sliding the lock in place while he laughs in your face, lips so close to yours they might as well be touching. His hand smothers into your hair affectionately while you stare up at him in bewilderment.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, still trying to process that you are, in fact, in the mens bathroom. While you’re here, you might as well admit to yourself that you expected it to be weirder in here than it is — where was the little trinket lady selling perfumes and key rings by the sinks? Where’s the puking people, the chatter, the laughter? There’s no sense of community in here whatsoever!

“Tour of the mens bathroom, you’re welcome.”

“I’m not allowed in here!”

“So what?” Connie laughs, sounding more infatuated than amused — but you blame any misreading of Connie’s behaviour on the however many gallons of alcohol running wild in your body. Yes, oh it is so easy to blame the alcohol! Connie’s nose gently pushes against yours, and you fight the dreadful urge to kiss him. 

“I needed to pee,” you say weakly.

He nods over his shoulder, “There’s a toilet right there if you can’t hold it in, nenita.”

“I’m not going to pee in front of you!”

“Why?” he laughs. Oh, he’s finding this terribly funny, and you hate that every laugh makes your stomach dip. “You’ve done it before.”

You gape at him. “That’s totally different!” 

“Not really,” he croons, and before you can protest any further, Connie leans forward and presses his mouth against yours. 

You might have swooned, if not for the door pressed against your back and his body trapping you against it. His mouth is firmly pressed to yours, the taste of his last drink strong on your lips — vodka orange, how peculiar. It feels warm, a little clumsy at the worst of times, though you’re not so much looking to fault him on his performance, your mind too busy focusing on his hands cradling your head like a prized possession, the irregular throb between your legs back to torment you.

Connie shifts a thigh between your legs, and with a lurch, your head falls back and crashes against the door rather unsexily. He sniggers again, still peppering kisses to your puckered lips, his mouth wet and shiny as he pulls away and presses a trail from your lips to your cheek, down to the slope under your earlobe down your neck.

Your heart is drumming erratically in your chest, your head spinning for a multitude of reasons. If you weren’t currently sandwiched in a toilet cubicle, you’d be incredibly turned on — actually, where you are is inconsequential. You know for a fact that you’re wet and it’s Connie Springer’s fault. 

Your body sags slightly, each kiss pressed to your neck burning you like a naked flame. Connie’s hands find themselves all the way down by your thighs, pulling up the useless little skirt you’ve decided to wear for the special occasion of Porco’s birthday. Not for any reason in particular, of course, other than because you looked exceptional in it.

Connie’s teeth push against your skin as he grins, fiddling his fingers near your panties. With a skirt that short, he wonders why you bothered in the first place. He wiggles a finger up to your crotch and laughs to himself when it’s wet.

“I love these short skirts, mama,” he says quietly.

Of course, Halloween’s short skirt had been solely part of the costume, but today, there’s no real excuse for just how short is actually is.

“This Pock’s birthday present?”

You whimper, but only because Connie moves his fingers away and presses his hips up against you. His nose prods your earlobe, and you feel just how hard he actually is beneath his trousers now that he’s aligning his chest with yours. 

“No,” you say rather defensively. “It’s for me.”

“Oh, really?” he asks.

“And for you, I guess,” you hurry to add. The tequila’s talking again! 

Connie hums along to what you’re saying with keen interest, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw before he moves his lips against yours, ghosting them across your mouth while his eyes find yours in the dark.

“One of these days, I swear I’ll fuck you on something comfortable,” he tells you, and you pause for a second until it registers. His mouth curves, “just not today.”

With that, Connie lifts up your skirt and tugs down your panties, all while you stand there with your jaw hanging low, eyes wide in the thrilled rush. For a second, your hands drop to his waistline, shyly toying with his buttons.

“I think it’s real cute that you’re shy today,” Connie starts, already spreading your pussy apart with his fingers. His body loosens up when you ping the button free from the front of his trousers, as though letting you undress him. 

“I’m not shy,” you protest. You were shy before, but now you have the foolish guidance of alcohol in your system, the only reason you’re not slutting it out for him the way you were in the utility cupboard is because you can now see him, and because you’re in a club bathroom. 

On Halloween, the darkness made you more confident than it should’ve; now, you can see Connie in the very dim bathroom light, very much real, very much grinning hopefully while he stabs a finger into you, watching with joy as you gasp in pleasure.

“Shy girl,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

Although he’s unbearably close, you manage to pull down his trousers and fist at the hem of his underwear, eager to prove otherwise. Turns out you didn’t need the Halloween darkness to feel confident; all it took was a little comment from the man you’ve been thinking about fucking you for over a week, and his finger up your cunt.

Your mouth hangs open when he lazily pushes his finger in and out of you, adding a second after a few minutes and pressing a kiss or two to the corner of your mouth. Connie hears you let out a breathless whimper, his fingers curling.

“Feels just how I remembered,” Connie mutters.

“God.”

It takes real effort not to moan out loud in the cubicle. Your hands fly around his wrist, hidden between your thighs comfortably, and you keep your eyes closed as you ever so slightly grind your hips backwards and forwards. Without even opening them, you know that Connie is looking at you darkly, his gaze so heavy you can feel it in the same realm his fingers are — his looks are sexual all on their own, you’re amazed to discover. 

You bite your lip, braving a look at the man in front of you. Connie’s cool and collected, his expression as impassive as his Ghostface mask was, and by some twist of fate, you feel no embarrassment or urge to hide away when you look into his eyes, those little shadowed beads staring almost boredly into you. Though, you know he’s far from bored — his dick is so hard between his legs it looks painful, and you glance down at it, reaching for it with your hands.

Connie flinches when your hand comes into contact with his cock, the warmth of your fingers unexpected as you run one finger over the tip, your other hand wrapping around the base of his dick. This you never had to do on Halloween; back then, he’d just ushered you in the cupboard and bent you over. Must have been rock solid under his cloak, brushing the tip against your panties until you all but begged him to fuck you.

“Not so shy now,” you sneer at him.

Connie kisses you with a grin. “You’re so brave for touching my cock, honey. Nice job.”

“Thanks.” 

His mouth wanders again, but your confidence is coming back in a giant wave; not long after Connie’s got his fingers pruned with your wetness, a cocky and drunken smile on his face, you reluctantly force his hand away and watch the smile slide off his face when he looks up at you in alert.

Whatever he is about to say is cut short when you sink to your haunches and find Connie’s dick level with your eyes. Immediately, Connie’s hands rise from below to above, smoothing around your head and cheeks as you assess the mission stood tall before you. 

There’s no time wasted on stalling; Connie can’t help but let out a quiet moan when you take more than half of his dick into your mouth at once.

In your head, you keep telling yourself to watch him, gauge every reaction until they’re things to get more drunk off, but even after a minute or so of watching him, your lips tight around his cock, you feel an embarrassed flush work its way from your cheeks to your neck. 

The little flat circle of light is behind his head, his face coloured with shadows, and you can only see his eyes due to the glint of them flashing in the dark. You find, unsurprisingly, that it excites you — looking for the face you know is there somewhere, uncertain of what he looks like as you suck his cock.

Connie’s hands tighten slightly around your head, his legs widening apart as he stables his swaying body. His thumb brushes across your neck before curling up to your lower lip, curled against his dick, and he hisses, so quiet that you almost miss it. Then, he says something in Spanish and pulls your face closer to him. 

You feel his dick brush the back of your throat right as you gag with the length of him, your thumb tightly wrapped in your palm. Not that it works — each time he pulls out and thrusts his dick back in, you retch, the reflex hitting, which only makes him moan harder.

“Shit, mama,” he groans, voice a little strained but far from tuckered out. You glance up around tears; his head is leaning to the side, his cheek practically glued to his shoulder, and a glint of saliva on his lip tells you he’s wide-mouthed, overcome with pleasure. 

You didn’t suck his cock on Halloween, there’d been no time for it. His eyes flicker down and find yours, the light hitting him just right, and you whimper around him, a hand cautiously coming to the base of his dick to save you from another round of gagging.

“Gotta say,” he rasps, grunting when he jerks his hips back against your mouth. This time, you adjust; your tongue is flat against his shaft, running along the vein bolting across it while he staggers and falls still. His head straightens as he looks down at you appreciatively, “I love looking at you like this.”

You hum. He can interpret it however he likes, which you suppose he does because he grins, chuckles to himself in satisfaction, and gently slaps his hand across your cheek. It barely hurts, but you put on a show to whine around him and wrinkle your nose, which he seems to like. He moans loudly, running his thumb across every feature he can reach without accidentally removing himself from the wet hole he’s buried inside. 

“I liked my shy girl, but you just look so fucking pretty when you’re actin’ like a slut.”

Your brows raise, though you can’t say you didn’t expect that. After all, you’d dug out your sluttiest skirt from first year just for Porco’s birthday, all whilst trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t for him because you knew he’d be there. The affectionate way he’d called you “slut” on Halloween echoes in your mind. You knew nothing about Connie, and yet you’d read him like a book.

You feel your body inching slowly back against the door, and you wouldn’t be shocked if your shoes were visible underneath the stall door from the outside. It had been the most trivial thing about getting on your haunches to suck Connie’s cock, but all of a sudden, you’re reminded of where the fuck you are and your heart stammers, your hand loosening around his dick.

Fortunately, Connie doesn’t misread this. Instead, he pulls himself out from your throat with a quiet curse and pulls at your hands so you’re up on your feet. Slightly off balance, you wobble in his arms as he presses a wet kiss to your mouth, his hands wrenching around your thighs and lifting you up off the floor once more. 

You snake your arms around his neck, hands brushing against the bleached fuzz atop his head, while Connie reaches between his legs for his dick and slides it until he finds the wet folds of your pussy. You moan into his mouth happily, the tip of his dick sliding between you, lapping up all your juice like a tongue. 

With one arm wrapped underneath you, holding you up around his waist, he quickly reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulls out a glossy packet, a condom he took out of his wallet in a hurry whilst watching you set off in the direction of the bathrooms.

At least one of you is responsible — you’d forgotten about it completely, and you get comfortable and stable on his hip while he tears open the packet with his teeth and folds it over his cock.

“You came prepared,” you say to fill the silence.

He laughs through his nose. “We both knew it was gonna happen.”

Did you? Hoped for, maybe — knew, not so much. 

“We didn’t use it last time,” you point out.

“Rookie mistake. Won’t happen again, angel.”

Rookie — you almost laugh. 

You run a finger across the nape of his neck where his buzzed hair ends, watching him shudder as he makes sure the condoms on properly, “Just this once, then.”

Connie’s eyes flicker up to yours. “Oh, you’re precious.”

Then, now that his tip is back pressed against your entrance, he lines himself up with a grin and pushes you down. Your legs are tight around his waist, no doubt strangling him, but now that you’ve taken a seat on his dick, your jaw slackens even wider and you forget where you are again, moaning so loud that Connie has to come forward and kiss you just to keep you quiet.

He laughs into your mouth, wildly entertained by the fit of your bodies, his body relaxing now that his dick is back somewhere wet and warm. Like Halloween, you’re tight, which feels miraculous considering how many times your fingers and toys have been shoved up there since that night, trying to find an alternative to having to seek him out, hoping to forget he existed and simply replace his legacy with something inanimate. Failure was met. Here you are.

You’ve never been fucked against a toilet stall door before, and you find with slight shyness that you don’t quite know what to do. Keeping your eyes on his and arms wrapped around his neck, you struggle to drag yourself up and down off his dick, though he seems very content with doing all the work himself, and you quickly let him.

Connie pistons his hips back up into you, going so deep that a tight wheeze leaves your mouth straight into his. He remains as cocky as he has been all night, the corners of his mouth curved upwards as he watches you with a narrowed gaze. 

The stall door rattles dangerously behind your back, the plastic rattle filling your ears as Connie picks you back up higher, his mouth flushed against your own to quell your pleasured noises. What he wouldn’t give to actually hear them one day.

Your cunt clenches around him and he groans, tongue flicking up past yours as he rearranges you on his cock. Your chest brushes up against his; how he desperately wants to rip off your top and shove your tits in his face, to leave little bites across your skin like a brand. Forgetful, you reach an arm up and grab the top of the stall door, taking more of him inside of you as a result. Not like there’s anyone to see you, anyway; unlike the joyful hubbub of the women’s bathroom, the men seem careless of coming in here tonight. 

Your legs tighten around Connie as he daggers himself into you, winding the knot in your stomach tighter until it feels as hard as his dick is up your snatch. He hisses, his arms buckling as your back slides precariously down the door — but he doesn’t want to let up. No, you’ve both been daydreaming about each other enough times to know that this simply isn’t enough.

Connie’s just about to hike your leg higher up his body when a cacophony of laughter sounds across the bathroom, and in an instant, your hand snatches off the top of the door and he scurries to catch you so you don’t fall to the floor with a fright. Your eyes are blown wide with the horrifying realisation that people are coming in — you spoke too soon.

Connie pulls himself out of you, clamping a hand over your mouth as you cry out, the tight fit of his dick felt now he’s gone. Then, he spins you around and is left with no other choice than to bend you over the toilet. The lid is closed and you cock a leg up on it instinctively, your hands clawing at the shelf above the tank. 

There’s simply no time to spend being a snob about the setting. It’s a downgrade from the utility cupboard, but considering that was where you first let Connie fuck you, you can’t be too disgraced by your second encounter being in a toilet cubicle. 

Third times a charm, right?

Connie bends you over, his hand sliding from your mouth and sliding to your ass. Both of his hands hold you in place while he fumbles back for your hole, and once he finds it, quivering in anticipation, he plunges back inside, glancing at you as you very quietly let out a breath once his dick sinks inside. 

Like old times, he fits in there like a man made for it, the stretched burn of his dick gone now that you’re once again familiar with the shape and size of him.

Suddenly aware of the people using the bathroom, you bite your inner cheek desperately, hoping to remain as quiet as you possibly can when a man like Connie is fucking himself into you. A flame of arousal burns inside of you as the voices grow louder, more rambunctious. Connie clenches his teeth and smiles, trying not to laugh when the voices begin to talk, oblivious to you both.

You can’t stop. Not now.

You feel him settling in your lower stomach, your ass slamming down on his skin with a slap  so sudden it makes you toss your head back to look at Connie with wide eyes. His smile splits apart, silent laughter falling from his mouth as he stills in place. 

Nobody seems to have heard — if they have, they are minding their own business. 

Connie shakes his head at you slightly as if in assurance, and you clamp your teeth down so hard on your bottom lip that Connie has to nod his head up to force you to look away. Your eyes return to the peeling paint of the walls, trying so eagerly to keep the knot tightening in your tummy from unravelling in ropes of white. 

Connie shifts a hand up to his abdomen, and you feel his knuckles against your ass to keep the sound of slapping skin from rippling out across the bathroom. Whoever’s here is loyally hanging around the urinals on the parallel side, a few others talking over the sound of running sinks. 

Connie bristles when you clench harder around him, desperate to keep your mind and body in tact. Your leg shifts, letting Connie sink deeper ever so slightly, the tip of him pushing past an untouched boundary.

God, you want to scream; yell, cry, moan out and let everyone know. But you don’t. Your mouth hangs open and a silent scream comes out, your face twisted up in pleasure as Connie quickens. His dick spears into you like a machine, so perfect in rhythm that you’re amazed you’re able to stay so quiet. You do whimper, however, so quietly that the people outside would have to be pushed up against the door to hear it. 

You knock your head back, braving a look over your shoulder at Connie, keeping your cool when you find his eyes are already looking at you, glazed over in a kind of hunger made visible now you’ve turned around to face the fall of the light. A little bead of sweat lines his neck, and you crane even further to look at your ass bouncing off his hand. His other hand creeps around from your waist between your legs, where his thumb and finger flick and twist at your clit. 

You twitch violently, the build up of tension so strong that you can feel a heat rising up from the balls of your heel up your legs. You look at Connie pleadingly, an unspoken message sent from your eyes into his. Connie’s brows raise as he pounds into you silently, playing dumb. But when you accidentally whimper a little louder than expected, he can’t hide his amusement. 

Of course, he knows you’re close. If your shaking legs weren’t enough indication, then the way your cunt is clutching him like a vice has given you away. Luckily for you, he’s not absurdly far behind — you feel better than any cunt he’s been in before, and he doesn’t think it would take much for him to coax one out of him whenever you were involved. 

Connie squeezes your ass with his hand, abandoning his safety assurance of remaining quiet, and now that the taps are back on and the music has picked up a bit outside, Connie speeds up relentlessly.

Your hands slide from the edge of the shelf up to the wall, and with nothing to grab, you slump ungracefully and do your best to keep upright. His cock burrows in deeper, tip prodding against a spot that makes you carelessly moan out loud, but that doesn’t matter anymore. 

You can hear the sound of your ass slapping against him as your bodies connect, his grunts more pronounced now he can afford a bit of noise with the taps.

He doesn’t even care if they can hear, as long as it’s not a bouncer determined to kick you both out of the club. Connie doesn’t even spare more than a second entertaining the idea before he falls back into the wickedly cosmic feeling of your pussy around his dick. He would happily put himself up here every day of the week if he had the chance.

Meanwhile, you feel a bubbling sort of pain in your lower stomach, the knot unwinding slightly until your legs shake uncontrollably, a white rush of heat blinding you as you give way. Thankfully, Connie catches you and holds you up, feeling your pussy heat up with pleasure as you cry out and cum around his cock. You immediately silence yourself and clamp your mouth closed, but the taps silence outside and you fear the damage may have already been done.

Connie hasn’t caught the silence of the taps yet. He pulls your hips back so that he continues to push his tip against your spongey walls, feeling the ribbons of your cum dribbling down both of your legs, down the length of his fingers as he toys with your clit like a button. His chest rises and falls heavily as he mumbles to himself, like trying to contain a whispery moan, until he can’t any longer. 

Connie spears in and out, and in, and out, your pussy clenching up sensitively as he finishes his tempo and slams back into you with a final drag. He bows his head, groaning as he cums, the condom filling with his seed warmly. He remains inside of you for a moment, shuddering through the tremors of your orgasms, eyes closed tightly as he twitches. You flinch as his dick jolts inside of you, and tossing your head over your shoulder tiredly, you wait patiently until he pulls his eyes open and finds your gaze eagerly looking at him.

He laughs breathily, ears trained outside the door. For a second, it’s clear, until both of you hear a very downtrodden, “What the fuck” from someone at the sinks, and he has to reign in his laughter in an effort to gaslight the stranger into thinking they imagined the sound of you both cumming.

Ordinarily, you would have been ablaze with disgraced horror at the thought of someone hearing you being fucked. But now, with Connie’s endeared gaze on your face, his smile the kind of smile you’d want to do sinful things for, you find yourself shaking with bemused laughter. 

Of course, it’s the tequila. Totally the tequila, and not because you secretly enjoy being a slut for Connie Springer.

“Still a slut?” you ask. God, you almost sound desperate for him to say yes!

Connie sniggers, running his hands up your arched back. “Biggest slut I ever saw.” Your smile widens happily. “Look at you grinning about it.”

“Sorry,” you say earnestly, tightening around him as you try to heave yourself up. Connie hisses unexpectedly and pulls himself out of you. He reaches to the side and unravels a few squares of tissue, using it to kindly wipe between your legs. You stop him midway, “I’ll take that pee now. Turn, please.”

Connie laughs and throws his hands up in surrender, spinning on his feet after grabbing more tissue to dry the slick juices off his dick. You take pleasure in staring at the shaped curve of his ass as he does this, half-disappointed when he reaches for his underwear and trousers and pulls them up over whatever goods you were marvelling over.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Connie says offhandedly.

“Don’t care,” you tell him, wiping up and flushing. You did a valiant job in keeping all that in as he was fucking you — well, you wouldn’t want a repeat of squirting down his Halloween costume, would you? “We’re not there yet.”

He looks over his shoulder as the toilet flushes. “How ‘bout you let me take you out sometime so we can get there?”

You smile at him, “You want to see me pee that badly?”

Connie rolls his eyes, turning his body so he’s facing you as he pulls you into his arms. “Not what I meant.”

“I know,” you laugh, unable to help yourself when you lean forwards to peck his lips. His eyes widen happily, the dimples deepening on his cheeks. “Ask me in the morning.”

“How? You blocked me, remember,” Connie says, sighing with an emphasised sadness. He locks his hands behind your back, caging you against his chest.

“I did no such thing.”

“If I look right now, I’ll be unblocked, then?”

You nod, nose brushing his. “You will.” You unblocked him out of morbid curiosity before heading to the club with Ymir and Reiner. 

Connie hums loudly, brushing a kiss over your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. His arms squeeze slightly around you before he gives in and releases you, reaching round to slide the lock free. He then pulls it open, wedging next to you before creating a gap for you to leave first, like a true gentleman.

“I can’t go out first,” you tell him. “What if someone sees me?”

“We’ll walk together,” Connie offers, already ushering you out of the cubicle. As you step out, he hurriedly fiddles with the back of your skirt, plucking it out from where its caught in your underwear and he follows your quick steps to the sinks. 

Despite your anxious desperation to flee the scene without being caught, you stop by the sinks and press the tap on, coating your hands in a generous amount of soap before glancing at him.

“You, too.”

He sniggers. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know we just fucked in a toilet cubicle, but there are still germs in here,” you fuss, scrubbing your hands. “I touched the wall.”

“I only touched you.”

“Scrub.”

He slathers his hands in soap and rinses them under the water, only looking up in the mirror when someone steps into the bathroom behind you and starts with a noise of surprise once he sees you bent over the sinks.

“Um,” the guy starts. When you look up, you freeze.

“She’s drunk,” Connie says smoothly, then gestures to the cubicle you were just in, “don’t go in that one. Vomit everywhere. Poor thing.”

“Oh, okay,” the guy replies, shrugging before stalking off to the urinals. Men are really such simple creatures. 

You watch him go in the mirror and look at Connie questioningly. He shrugs. He leans over to the paper towels and pulls two out, handing you one. Then, once your hands are dry, his arm returns around your waist for the mutual walk of shame out of the bathroom and back into the club.

Connie says, his mouth pressed to your head, “So where’d you wanna go?”

Your heart thumps nervously. “No preference…”

He tuts. “Think on it.” You will, thanks for the pointer. 

Connie’s arm tightens around you in a way you can’t explain once you round the corner and step back out into the wide hallway, which fortunately seems less busy than it was when you last saw it — with the not so fortunate exception of Porco stopping in his tracks a few feet away from your both, his eyes jumping between Connie’s arm and your face wildly before his mouth hangs open dumbly.

Connie smiles normally. “Hey, big boy. You alright?”

Your body is tense with nerves — not even a day ago, you were being told of Porco’s rumoured crush on you; not even a few hours ago, he’d had his arm around you at the bar. Your feet shuffle uncomfortably, guilt rising, until you watch Porco’s shock expression morph into one of morbid curiosity, his brows arched in and upwards while a shocked smile takes shape on his lips.

Thankfully, he looks amused, nowhere close to annoyed or hurt like you had expected. He laughs, at first slightly and then uncontrollably, before he holds his stomach and steps closer with the bathroom in mind.

“What the fuck,” he wheezes out. You’re just happy he looks in good spirits, all things considering. It’s one thing for the girl you might like to be fucking someone else, and another thing for that someone else to be one of your best friends. “I’m good. Are you guys good?”

Connie flashes Porco a winning smile, one that makes it look like he has won a great victory whilst simultaneously making you feel like you’re missing something.

“I think so,” Connie replies, sparing you a glance out the corner of his eye.

You gulp, trying to find the words to say.

“You don’t need to explain,” Porco urges quickly, seeming far too entertained than normal. He walks up to you both and steps around you, “Literally.”

He tosses you a warm and genuine smile before vanishing around the corner, and only after he’s gone do you look back at Connie, torn between being relieved and ashamed.

“We have his blessing,” Connie says with a firm nod, and you hold back a scoff and roll your eyes, pinching the skin of his wrist.

“You’re so mean. It’s his birthday!”

“I know. That’s why his blessing is so important.”

You shake your head, ignoring his laughter in your ear as you try to march off back into the club, his arm still glued around your waist like a permanent attachment. You even find that with every step back into the buzz of the club, the expected drilled shame of being fucked by Connie never comes. Instead, you only feel a content glow widening in your chest, painting your skin, the promise of a date hanging over your head like floating stars and clouds. 

Thank you tequila, you think. And, in a way, thank you Eren, for the Halloween party that led Ghostface between your legs and Connie Springer into your life.

━━━━━★. *· @gorehsk @arminarlertssword & @madstronaut for simply being the reason why i wrote this sequel

[daydreamingupandaway]

Okay y’all, I just finished episode 5, here are some of my thoughts on it!

SPOILERS

-Bruh this bald bitch Xavier is getting on my NERVES. Like I get why you did what you did but you REALLY had to go to get some space girlfriend instead of helping your X-Men? Like I think Magneto KNEW he was going to space because he even mentioned how Xavier went with his Shi’ar Queen- that’s WILD

-Also I didn’t think I realized the magnitude (heh heh, get it?) of what Magneto did until this episode. He does realize he’s probably killing an assload of mutants too right? Like bro has good points but I think killing thousands of people including mutants and like the entire planet may be a tad too far

-Why were they in space when Xavier met with President Kelly? Did I miss something?

-I wasn’t surprised that Rouge joined magneto, but Roberto joining threw me through the loop. I get why, I just didn’t expect it. I mean I’m proud of him though. I wish there was more time before the final battle so we could see Roberto interacting with Magneto and Rouge since we’ve only ever seen him and Jubilee together. (more in next bulletin point about those two) I just feel like there could have been more character interactions in general here. Too much was focused on just fighting. Like how the hell did we go from having 12 hours to 1 so quickly? The fuck????

-More about Rouge, loved her talk with Professor X, you tell ‘em Rouge! Also I love that she wore Gambit’s jacket, I thought it was really sweet.

-Roberto worrying about hurting Jubilee? AWKDKGBDLFN MY HEART AHENGELFKDK like I don’t really know how J feel about romance with them but their friendship and stuff is so adorable and then to have it break like that! Like of course Jubilee would be mad! Roberto effectively went against her family!

-My Queen, my absolute GODDESS storm returned! Yay! I loved the little sister moment Jean and her shared. She had some super cool fighting scenes though, I love how they animate her abilities. I don’t like how my QUEEN GOT MURKED AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! So unfair

-Real talk why the FUCK did they send Wolverine to confront Magneto? Honestly Magneto could have done what he did at the end at literally any point, dude was playing it nice. Also, my Morphine loving ass really wishes there was a goodbye scene between Morph and Logan. I mean K know he’s gonna be okay though. It’s Wolverine. I hope we actually get to see more of his healing abilities, we never get too see those….. I mean he is going to be okay, right? My heart cannot take Logan dying he’s like one of my favorite X-Men. Honestly I feel like X-Men 97 haven’t really been doing him right. But it’s pretty much the Scott and Jean show so, go figure

-More on Morph: they got called THEM again!!! That made me so happy! :) but I was a little bit confused when Rouge said something along the lines of: “Morph barely joined our team for 30 minutes and we threw them to the wolves” what does that mean? Am I missing something? Is it from the original show? Because I didn’t watch it so if someone could explain please do!!

-As for Cable, it was really cool to see his powers get shown off! That was awesome. I like the interaction he had with Scott too. Honestly ever since they introduced Cable I was hoping for a Deadpool cameo, hopefully for season two. A girl can only dream.

-Then onto Nightcrawler! Once again my dude has AWESOME GOATED fighting skills!!!!!! We love him. I was surprised he didn’t really try to talk Rouge down during the battle but that fight was way too fast paced. I really liked the scene with the Rosary. I don’t really know why since I’m not religious or anything, I just thought that it was a nice touch.

-Gonna do Scott and Jean in one I guess. I liked the fight between Jean and Mr.Sinister. I think it’s crazy that she could telepathically communicate with Scott that far away. That’s cool. I hope Cable doesn’t kill her. On another note, I love Scott and Jean. Like this show has done WONDERS for Scott’s character but why does EVERYTHING have to be about them?! They’re like the only two characters that got like any character time the entire episode!

-And then because apparently I decided to do everyone I might as well say stuff about Beast, next I’ll do Magneto. (Can you tell this wasn’t planned at all and I’m just rambling lmao?) anyway, Beast was pretty chill here. I always like the little quips he throws out during a fight, and I like that he’s friends with Forge. He is a very swag dude. I’m a little surprised to see him hanging around near the reporter still, especially since she was revealed to be a sentient bot thing and like Roberto said, she somewhat chose to be turned into something that would fight against mutants. But beast is a very peaceful and forgiving person, so I suppose it makes sense.

-Finally, Magneto! Fun fact throughout this entire thing I kept spelling it magneato because I think he’s mag-neat-o (I should be burned at the stake). Well, I would say that if I didn’t think he was a FUCKING IDIOT! Bro another PLANET?! Please tell me how he was planning on loading every mutant up to another planet. I would LOVE to know. There were different ways he could have gone about it, but NOPE. Also- LEECH ACTUALLY DIED?! CKDIFNSKGKELGL SOBBING ACTUALLY SHED A TEAR- like I don’t know what I should have expected but I’m still sad about it. So I guess a huge part of this is a product of grief not just for Genosha but also Leech. God that’s so sad bro-

Forge- unfortunately not much to say here :( I do hope he’s okay though! He’s a really good pilot and very smart!

Overall, I just think this episode was way too rushed. I wish there were more character moments. I mean the professor isn’t dead? Hell I would have punched that old man in the face! I really think the first season should have been longer. I know people disagree but I just want to see more things between other characters that don’t feel so rushed. That’s all I want. I want to see more of my faves instead of having them constantly thrown to the side.

[cygnus-rex]

We all overanalyze know about Joel’s neck kisses playlists, and he knows we know.

What if Etho had a neck kisses playlist?

For funsies, I made one. I based it off music he said he likes and stuff he’s listened to in the past: Halestorm, The Pretty Reckless, Halocene, Paramore, AViVA, Monstercat.

I also included lyric samples below--enjoy!

“I Get Off” - Halestorm

There's so much left unspoken Between the two of us It's so much more exciting To look when you can't touch You could say I'm different Maybe I'm a freak But I know how to twist you To bring you to your knees I get off on you Getting off on me Give you what you want But nothing is for free It's a give and take Kind of love we make When the line is crossed I get off

"I Want You (She’s So Heavy)" - Halestorm

I want you I want you so bad, babe I want you I want you so bad It's driving me mad It's driving me mad

“Into You” - Halocene

I'm so into you I can barely breathe And all I wanna do Is to fall in deep But close ain't close enough 'Til we cross the line, hey-yeah So name a game to play And I'll role the dice, hey Oh baby, look what you started The temperature's rising in here Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move Before I make a move

“Reckless” - Halocene

You make me so damn reckless You made my life a hurricane You make me so damn reckless I’ve lost all sense of reality And I don’t wanna fight it I invite your insanity

“Fetish” - Halocene

I can’t deny Your appetite You got a fetish for my love I push you out and you come right back Don’t see a point in blaming (you) If I were you I’d do me (too)

“Focus” - Halocene

Focus on me (focus) Focus on me (focus on me) I can tell you're curious It's written on your lips Ain't no need to hold it back Go head and talk your shit I know you're hoping that I'll react I know you're hoping I'm looking back But if my real ain't real enough Then I don't know what is Let's find a light inside our universe now Where ain't nobody keep on holding us down Just come and get it let them say what they say 'Cause I'm about to put them all away

“Break In” - Halocene

Yeah, it's perfectly reckless Damn, you leave me defenseless So break in And take everything I have Till there is nothing left Till it's just your voice in my head And when the lights come on You see me as I am You're still inside me

“Pillowtalk” - Holocene

Yeah, reckless behavior A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day Lovin’ you, fightin’ on It’s our paradise and it’s our war zone It’s our paradise and it’s our war zone Pillow talk My enemy, my ally

“Mad Love” - The Pretty Reckless

Now there's someone inside me I think it's you Won't let you go, babe Until I am through with Your love […] I am alive when I battle with you You think you amaze me I think that it's true

"You" - The Pretty Reckless

You can't see me, no Like I see you I can't have you, no Like you have me And I want you in my life And I need you in my life

“Crushcrushcrush” - Paramore

I got a lot to say to you Yeah, I got a lot to say I noticed your eyes are always glued to me Keeping them here And it makes no sense at all […] I guess I'm dreaming again Let's be more than this

“Still Into You” - Paramore

I should be over all the butterflies But I'm into you (I'm into you) And baby, even on our worst nights I'm into you (I'm into you) Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you Well, some things just, some things just make sense And one of those is you and I (Hey) Some things just, some things just make sense And even after all this time (Hey)

“Emergency” - Paramore

If you thought I'd leave then you were wrong 'Cause I won't stop holding on So are you listening? So are you watching me? [...] 'Cause I've seen love die Way too many times When it deserved to be alive When it deserved to be alive I've seen you cry Way too many times When you deserved to be alive

"Be Alone" - Paramore

So what if I don't have a lot to talk about? I shut my mouth and keep it locked until it counts And what if I don't ever want to leave my house? Stay on the couch while all my friends are going out Alone You should be alone Yeah, you should be alone You should be alone with me We could be alone Yeah, we could be alone But never get too lonely

"Stop This Song (Lovesick Melody)" - Paramore

The longer that I live with this idea The more I sink in To this 4/4 beat, I'm in time with you, oh-oh, oh-oh To this 4/4 beat, I would die for you (Let's stop this song) I've gone too far to come back from here But you don't have a clue You don't know what you do to me I've come too far to get over you And you don't have a clue You don't know what you do to me […] It creeps in like a spider Can't be killed Although I try and try to Well, don't you see I'm falling? Don't want to love you But I do

"It's Okay It's Alright" - AViVA

You're possibly wondering if things will be alright You know I can't promise but I know we'll both try 'Cause when I look into your eyes they're like the sun And when you smile I feel so warm and so at home

"Wasteland" - AViVA

See you standing right there, right there I couldn't change you, wouldn't change a thing Tonight I'm watching both your bright eyes They're full of danger, full of questioning Your lips, your touch, it always drives me crazy Always drives me crazy It's way too much, with you, it's never maybe You, it's never maybe

"Love and War" - AViVA

Thought that I couldn't be me Without the pieces of you Making it so hard to breathe I still don't know what to do You've cut my heart from me, run from me But I trusted you so Thought that you'd fight with me, fight for me Now I really don't know

"Run Right Back" - ORACLE & Holochrome (Monstercat)

A thousand miles in between us Talk all night, it’s never enough Try my best to believe in love But I’m a mess and you’re the reason

"Thinking 'bout You" - Scarr. & Finding Mero (Monstercat)

[instrumental]

"Calling" - Mango, Cloudcage & Matt Sky (Monstercat)

Yeah, I've been trying hard to breathe Been pushin' down what's underneath It's growin' stronger and I'm gettin' weak It's risin' up and capturin' me […] We were down deep and had no clue Buried down, fallin' far for you Gettin' lost in a starless blue

"Strangers" - ORACLE & Holochrome (Monstercat)

I wonder Anything ever be better than this? I wonder Are you and I more than a passing eclipse? Dance in the sky Sun and the moon I shine in your eyes Looking at you like Shooting stars I'm in your atmosphere Love the way it feels, yeah

"Falling For You" - SABAI, With Løve, & Nevve (Monstercat)

Falling for you Suddenly shakes what I knew Your breaking through, brings me to life This is what it feels like

"All We Needed" - Koven (Monstercat)

All we had and all we lost All in time to speak to us Heaven knows at least that we tried Holding on to little things 'Cause we can't forget the better days Playing on repeat in my mind […] Stop giving to yourself We can have it all again We can have it all again Stop pushing me away We can have it all again We can have it all again

"Waiting" - Kuuro feat. Bianca (Monstercat)

Seek me out, hear me shout "Come get it" Don’t you simmer down, right now Want you acting like you’re in the wild […] Midnight, locked eyes Looking like you got an invite Alright, maybe we should take this outside Skin tight in the moonlight (Oh)

"Dilemma" - Stonebank & Bianca (Monstercat)

But I can see your eyes run down me And all my sense just floats away […] Hey, I'm in a dilemma 'Cause I want your body but I don’t do wrong I'm in a dilemma You've been looking over hеre for far too long, yeah The morе I look in your wicked eyes The more you're leaving me hypnotized No, no, no, I'm in a dilemma (Oh, yeah)

"Horizon" - Odsen & Katrine Stenbekk (Monstercat)

I used to view you as a mountain That I couldn't climb at first But I've only stumbled over diamonds And I no longer fear the worst You were the calm to my storm You could take the wind And though the winter would come Weighing on our shoulders at least the Ice could never break us in

[sanflawoah]

The Ochiba and Toranaga situation is interesting and all, but it's also very funny spicy when you think about it. Their only interactions in the show are just Ochiba throwing bombastic side eyes and Toranaga being ".....???" like he's just confused wtf is her problem.

Just saying that the book lowkey ships them it was so funny, almost cursed even.

Chapter 56 (Ochiba's thoughts) -

"....Marry Toranaga? Buddha protect me from that shame, from having to welcome him and feel his weight and his spurting life.

Shame?

Ochiba, what is the truth? she asked herself. The truth is that you wanted him once—before the Taikō, neh? Even during, neh? Many times in your secret heart. Neh? The Wise One was right again about pride being your enemy and about needing a man, a husband."

Chapter 58 -

"...Suddenly Ochiba wished that Toranaga was here beside her and not Ishido, that Toranaga was master of Osaka Castle and master of the Taikō’s treasure, Protector of the Heir and Chief General of the Armies of the West, and not Ishido. Then there would be no problems. Together they would possess the realm, all of it, and now, today, at this moment, she would beckon him to bed or to an inviting glade and tomorrow or the next day they would marry, and whatever happened in the future, today she would possess and be possessed and be at peace."

Chapter 56, (after she secretly had sex with that peasant who resembles the Taiko) -

Then, just the other side of the wood, Toranaga had been waiting for her. Had he seen her, she wondered in panic.

“I was worried about you, Lady,” he had said.

“I’m—I’m perfectly all right, thank you.”

“But your kimono’s all torn—there’s bracken down your back and in your hair….”

“My horse threw me—it’s nothing.” Then she had challenged him to a race home to prove that nothing was wrong, and had set off like the wild wind, 

There were other lines of Ochiba having h0rny thoughts and it's just-💀💀💀

In Ochiba's POV, she did considered reasonable alliance with Toranaga. Overall, her reaction to being suggested into marrying Toranaga was like ,"Fuck no... unless?"

Meanwhile, Toranaga's reaction to the suggestion was straight up "what the fUCK-".

[nicosraf]

Hi Rafa!

Back again in your inbox and I have what’s probably a silly question but I am nothing but silly and goofy so I’ll ask anyway

I was thinking about yk the verious depictions of lucifer (as every sane and normal person does) and it got me wondering onwhat made you decide to characterise Lucifer the way you did, mainly because usually in modern media he’s very much seen as a anti-hero and mostly he’s seen as a good (-ish) guy that didn’t do too much wrong, the rebellion is usually very much written off as something akin to teenage rebellion and God is just seen as a disappointed parent that had no other choice but teach a lesson to his kids (and well that is of course because gods forbid someone sees God as anything less than the perfect father but I digress), for example the Lucifer series does this and in part too hazbin hotel.

And idk it was refreshing to see your read of Lucifer, he starts good and very much kidlike and then his wonder and love become corrupt I’d say, I struggle to call him evil because well for one I have what could be considered too much sympathy for him and I understand him, he was set up to fail in a lot of ways. So I guess I just wonder what made you say “no I’m going to keep the “bad” and “evil” that is in him”

(I am aware that the answer is probably just well he’s like that in most classical depictions but idk I want to hear you ramble about Luci and his development because that’s always interesting and I love it ajdhsh)

Sorry for the confused ramble anyway lots of love from Italy <3

-J :)

Hello! This is a dangerous question!! I have many many essays I'd love to write about the depiction of Lucifer in media and about what eventually led me to making Lucifer like that. It's also fresh in my mind right now because I saw that Lucifer Hazbin Hotel episode recently. (I actually don't have a ton of thoughts on Hazbin Lucifer. He is very cute, but Hazbin isn't trying to be theological I think; it's just having fun with the mythology.)

I would say that societal depictions of Lucifer always mirror a lot of the way that society has come to understand not the devil, but God, parent-child relationships, authority, tradition, and so on. Some people think Paradise Lost was the first to make Lucifer a hero, but it's actually very clear that Milton wanted his flaws to outweigh the good things, to make Satan ultimately a bad person, and to justify God's actions to us.

Like 200 years later, William Blake started saying that Paradise Lost was pro-Lucifer, though by accident: "Milton was of the Devil's party without knowing it." But Blake lives in a very different time, during the French and American revolutions and the industrial revolution. Old traditions and empire are getting shaken up, the story of Lucifer looks a lot more heroic.

I won't get too much into how Satanic panic affected things (or even the rise of anti-theist communist regimes!), though I think the Satanic panic of the 90s really exacerbated Lucifer's connection to teenage rebellion. (Also, I'm focusing on the US because of how much their media is exported and influences other countries).

But so then we got the modern Lucifer I used to see quite a bit — suave, night club owning, slutty, probably referenced bisexual, manipulator of women. I always thought this development was kind of strange. It's almost like what Blake did to Milton's Lucifer; we didn't change how the people before us thought of him, we just decided that the Lucifer we're supposed to hate is actually super cool.

But I was not super compelled by this Lucifer. And I reference these lines a lot, but the idea of Satan in Western Christianity came from several passages from the Bible, one of which is Ezekiel 28, and I was really struck with line 14: “You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you," as well as the multiple times the chapter stresses that the cherub of Eden fell because of his corrupting beauty above all.

I realized I never really saw "blameless" Lucifer, innocent Lucifer. In a lot of interpretations, he's just sort of born wrong or always a little Evil. But the lines say that he was innocent once, and I got really caught up in that. I thought of God watching Lucifer be beautiful and innocent in all that time (like a voyeur).

It felt like the next step in Lucifer's development to take the child-parent relationship between him and God and make it ugly. (Though sticking with the dichotomy of good vs evil didn't really work for me. Lucifer isn't good but he's not evil either, and the weird love and hate mixture is what brings him closer to how God is, too (to me)).

We live in a day and age where all authority is being critiqued, where we don't laugh at teenage rebellion as much. I mean, if you watch any recent Disney movie, you'll see parents learning from their children to stop the cycle of generational abuse. And, of course, with Lucifer becoming so associated with queerness (Lil Nas' MONTERO for example), the framing that he's just a metaphor for a teen rebel who will one day realize his dad was right... falls apart. Lots of teens kicked out of their house for being gay are grown up now and making shows/movies/etc.,. And I think it's always better not to shy away from trauma victims being imperfect and, occasionally, cruel.

So. yeah! I've always been surprised that Lucifer as an imperfect victim of parental abuse, running away, taking some of his sibling with him, isn't more common in general.

[multifandomgirl08]

I'm not the original 'date night' Anon, but I recently went and read that last chapter of Mini Verstappen that you published and I was wondering if you would write a short morning after scene from 'date night'? Just to see what Max and Readers morning routine is like without Nico home.

Sure! I love that idea. I'm not sure if it's as short as you were thinking but I hope you like it. Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

You couldn’t help but slowly pull your eyes open at the sound of birds chirping. You feel something pressing against your chest as you try to turn over, your hand reaches down to pull the sheets up over your body as you curl your toes in but you find nothing but the cold from the room.

You try to look down but see messy brown hair tucked against your chest instead. You next try to move your arm that is tucked around Max, and you can start to feel the pins and needles while trying to run your fingers through his hair. Your fingers start to work after a few seconds still feeling a bit stiff, and you can start to move your arm a little more after.

Max shifted on top of you more, and you can tell that he’s trying to curl into you as much as possible. You can feel him loosely holding your hip in his hand, as he tries to nuzzle his nose into your neck. The feeling of his beard against your skin tickles. You can just barely stifle your laugh, and let yourself be weighed down by him as he’s the only thing keeping you warm in the room, as the air conditioner gives off a light hum.

At some point he starts to move away from you, and you know that he’s finally waking up. You roll towards him as he is slowly taking all of the warmth with him, and can still feel his hand on your waist being the only thing keeping you warm.

“Mijn leeuwin,” You hear in his gravely morning voice. You look over at him and his eyes drop down to you for a moment taking in your bare skin against the pillow, you can see him looking around the bed before seeing the sheets at the very end of the mattress.

Max finds a way to catch one of his feet in the sheet before pulling it up around the both of you with his free hand. The sheets settle at Max’s waist once he’s leaned further into the headboard, you stay settled with your head on your pillow.

He leans back more and you start closing your eyes to try to fall back asleep before you hear a, “Hsss.” from Max.

You quickly opened your eyes to see Max leaning forward a bit with one of his hands on the lower part of his back. You knew that you had scratched Max’s back a bit last night but you never thought it was enough for him to be in pain.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He looked down at you before removing his hand from his back, you saw him carefully lean back into the soft leather of the headboard.

“I will not be able to sit for racing today since you have left claw marks on my back, again.” He said looking down at you with a small smile. You lightly hit his thigh before he started to laugh. You thought that you had really hurt him more than just leaving little red lines behind.

He reached for your hand and took it in his. You turned onto your stomach towards him, resting your head against his chest.

It took a bit for you and Max to pull yourselves from the bed, you had pulled on one of his shirts and Max a pair of sweatpants before making your way up the stairs to the kitchen. You had made yourself a cup of coffee, and while you were waiting for the machine to start collecting both sets of clothes from yesterday, placing them in the laundry room.

Max had taken out the pizza box, and kissed you on the forehead after he had come back inside to you making omelets. You let him whisk the eggs while you cut up some spinach, tomatoes, and cheese.

Once you were done cooking, you had put the food on plates, Max had taken your coffee and you had eaten outside with you sitting in Max lap as you ate. You ended up talking about how Max was feeling about the schedule change again, and you got to complain about work to him. Both plates were empty by the end, and you were finishing up your cup of coffee while Max had put the plates in the dishwasher and scrubbed the pan and cutting board. You had started a load of laundry, most of it being Max’s clothes that he had unpacked after getting home from Milton Keynes, and put all of the clothes from yesterday into the bag for the dry cleaner. You would take it later this week when you needed to drop Nico off at daycare.

“I’m going to pick Nico up,” Max said walking into the laundry room with his phone and keys in hand.

“Okay,” You said, reaching up to peck Max on the lips. His free hand ended up on your waist before you pulled away. “Let me know if Lando fed him, if not I’ll make him an early lunch.”

Max gave a silent grin before you threw a clean t-shirt at his bare chest. Max looked down after catching the fabric, placed his phone and keys into the pocket of his sweatpants, and slowly pulled the shirt on as he left the room. You could just barely make out the sight of the red scratch marks you had left.

You started to laugh once you heard the sound of the sidedoor close that led to the garage.

[valkyriexo]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Valkyriexo April 2024 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

— Today marks my 1st month on Stayblr ♡

— I want to thank everyone for their likes, reblogs, and comments so far

— I'm truly touched by the wonderful comments and kind words you've shared. Each comment motivates me to keep writing and sharing.

— When I started sharing my stories, I never expected this much love. Your support and kind words mean everything to me.

— I'm also overjoyed to share that we've surpassed 300 followers! This is truly amazing, and I'm incredibly grateful for your support. As a way to say thank you, I'm planning a special event, but I'm still brainstorming ideas. If you have any suggestions or preferences for what you'd like to see as a thank-you gesture, please feel free to share them!

— Here's a roundup of all the works I've completed in my first month of sharing stories with you:

╰┈➤ texts.

*·˚ᑉ³💬 Skz Texts | Best friends skz accidentally confessing when they're jealous/mad | OT8 | Fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | They break up with you | OT8 | angst

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | They want you to meet their parents | OT8 | Fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz Texts | Confessing to another member's girlfriend | OT8 | Fluff, angst

*·˚ᑉ³💬 Skz texts You get scared playfighting | Chan | Comfort, fluff

*·˚ᑉ³ 💬 Skz texts You feel insecure | Hyunjin| Comfort, fluff

╰┈➤ one-shots.

*·˚ᑉ³ Microphones and Mistakes |Part 2 | Chan | Angst

࿐ྂ Amidst the chaos of a highly anticipated performance, You find yourself grappling with unexpected challenges both on and off-stage. With the pressure of your debut song with Stray Kids mounting, you face technical difficulties and personal turmoil, including a rambunctious toddler and a strained relationship with your husband, Chan.

*·˚ᑉ³ Broken Promises | Chan | Angst

࿐ྂ You and your fiancé, Chan, are eagerly planning your wedding, envisioning a future together. But when doubts about your relationship's strength begin to emerge, you're faced to confront a choice; salvage what's left or walk away.

*·˚ᑉ³ Nightmares | Minho| Angst, Comfort

࿐ྂLost in a nightmare where Minho is gone, fear consumes you. Panic claws at your chest, each breath heavy with the weight of imagined loss. In the void left by his absence, shadows that dance mockingly in the corners of your mind. In this surreal realm of darkness, where reality blurs with the surreal, you're left grappling with the haunting question: where has Minho gone?

*·˚ᑉ³Pretty Pretty Princess | Changbin| Fluff

࿐ྂ The adventures of Dad Binnie and Daughter Ha-ri

*·˚ᑉ³ One + One = Three | Hyunjin| Angst, Fluff

࿐ྂIn the serene world of a rising K-pop star, you find solace in the quiet moments shared with your boyfriend, Hyunjin. Their love is carefully concealed, known only to a select few. But when a scandalous article surfaces, threatening to expose their carefully guarded secret, Y/N must navigate the treacherous waters of fame, loyalty, and betrayal.

╰┈➤ series.

Invasion of privacy | Poster | Teaser | Chan | Coming soon

࿐ྂ In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, fear grips tighter. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

╰┈➤ collections.

*·˚ᑉ³ He helps you when.. | Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix| Seungmin | Jeongin

࿐ྂDIVERGENT *·˚ᑉ³ What Faction would they be in? | Headcannon

╰┈➤ headcanons.

*·˚ᑉ³ How Skz would ask you to be theirs | Hyung | Maknae

╰┈➤ thoughts.

*·˚ᑉ³ Late night thoughts 001 | Chan | Fluff, angst

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like | © 2024 Valkyriexo  licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0