#this is like somehow a worst way to find dates than tinder

[joshsjipple]

Waiter, please!

JOSH KISZKA X (F)READER

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fic! I've been writing one shots for a while now, but I've never been comfortable enough in my abilities to post them. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this:)

Word Count: 5k+

WARNINGS: 18+, this is SMUT! graphic sexual content, unprotected sex (you know better) LOTS of dirty talk and praise, oral sex (m/f/rec), fingering, hair pulling, slight slapping kink, a bit of spit play if you squint, small choking kink, language, some degradation, dom (m) sub (f) etc etc, light fluff here and there. Sorry if I missed any!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Your fingers twirl the cool metal stick between your fingers, lazily stirring the plate of overpriced pasta in front of you. The creamy sauce creates a bleak noise that is somehow ten times more interesting than your date sitting in front of you.

It was your friend Nala who convinced you to join Tinder, saying how you “need to get back out there.” You agreed, thinking if nothing went right, you’d still get your fulfillment of sex. Boy were you wrong. Not only were 90% of these men conceited, obnoxious, and blatantly boring, they also had zero direction in the bedroom. You had only yourself to blame for that one. 

Your eyes drift away from your half-eaten plate of food and fix on the unlucky winner tonight. It’s not like he’s unattractive, because he’s not. But the more you look at him and the more you listen in on his pathetic talk about this year's upcoming election, the less appealing he becomes. Not once had he complimented you or asked about your life or interests. And you take offense to that first one because you had picked out a particularly flattering dress the night before.

The light blue silk dress hugs your waist perfectly, accentuating all your curves. The top was a loose fit, draping over your chest just barely covering your breasts. You were sure if you bent over just right, you’d give anyone who was looking a show. 

Reaching for your glass of wine, you nod to whatever nonsense this guy is still talking about. Noticing your drink has vanished, you let out a small sigh. The expensive wine he had insisted on buying was the only thing keeping your ass in the seat. So, reluctantly, you wave the nearest waiter over your way. A different one from last time approaches your table, a polite grin on his face.

“What can I get you?” he asks, rummaging for a pen in his apron pockets.

“Can we get a refill on the wine?” you smile back to your date who has since silenced his words. 

“Yes, please.” he agrees. 

The waiter takes your empty bottle and nods his head before turning to leave. You watch him walk away, the dark brown curls on his head whooshing from side to side as he marches into the kitchen area. He’s much shorter than you prefer, but being short yourself, you don’t see an issue. 

Within a few minutes, he returns with your wine. Placing it in front of you, your eyes cross paths for a moment. His big brown beads glare back at you warmly, a smile forming on your face in response. You can’t tell if your date is still talking or if he has stopped to pay attention to the newly replaced wine that just arrived at your table.

Your eyes flick down to the name tag stuck to your server’s uniform. Josh. Cute. He turns on his heels and retreats back to the kitchen, leaving you stuck in your worst nightmare.

An hour drags by impossibly slow, and you find yourself chugging half the bottle of wine down in no time. Your date, Paul, is still rambling. Even his name is insanely bland. You swirl the red liquid around in your glass and rest your head on your free hand. With your knees crossed and your eyebrows raised, you grow impatient. You’d like to tell him where he can stick his opinions, but you haven’t drank enough for that yet. 

Over the span of the last 60 minutes, Josh has brought out a chocolate desert and the check. Your eyes gracefully meet, and each time they do, your legs squeeze together tightly. He must be able to tell you’re not enjoying yourself, because he smiles coily to you as he passes by. 

Paul, who has now moved onto the state of the economy, blabbers on and on. A glass of wine splashes in one hand while the other helicopter around the table. You watch as the color drains from his face and his words begin to slow. You’ve paid no attention to how much he has dranken, but now you seem to fathom a good estimation. 

He grabs his stomach as he shuts his mouth tightly. Quickly, he stands and rushes away from your table and towards the bathroom. You can’t help but let out a small laugh. Someone in your close vicinity seems to do the same. You search for him, although you can practically picture the face that laugh belongs to. Josh. Your eyes meet and he casually wanders over to your table, throwing himself into Paul’s vacant seat. 

“Bored, darling?” he cooly says, his head in the palm of his hand.

“Since the moment I got here.” you nearly choke on your words at the pet name. 

“I get off in five… and seeing your date is preoccupied, can I join you?” 

You’re taken back by his boldness, but it’s kind of attractive. “Sure. As long as you stay away from political opinion talk.”

Josh sucks in a breath through closed teeth. “Dang it. There goes my plans for tonight.”

You giggle as the bathroom door down the hall opens. Josh flawlessly stands to his feet and shuffles away, making sure to turn back and give you a quick wink. You roll your eyes and stand to greet your intoxicated date.

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m sorry, but I feel like shit. Can we continue this another time?” he slurs.

“Of course,” you smile, knowing damn well you’re blocking him when you get home tonight. “I called you an uber. It should be here in a few minutes. Maybe some fresh air would help.”

“I agree. Here’s some cash. Should cover everything.” He pulls a few hundred dollar bills and throws them on the table. Without another word, he walks out the door.

You want to cheer as the door closes behind him, but remembering you’re in a very expensive restaurant, you sit back down. To your surprise, Josh has already beaten you to the spot. His apron is abandoned and replaced with a tan jacket. His arms are folded across the edge of a table like a child, his facial expressions matching it. To you, he looks like he doesn’t belong here, which makes your heart beat faster as you take your seat.

“Is he gone?” he asks in a joking tone.

“How did you know?” you chime in, bringing your glass of wine back to your lips.

“You look less stressed now, dare I say younger.” 

His accent makes your cheeks helplessly morph into a smile. You shake your head and reach for the money Paul left you. You sift through it, counting four $100 bills. Your mouth falls open in disbelief. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was loaded.

Josh picks up on your energy and cocks an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“He left me $400 to cover the meal.”

“No shit. Really? I’m gonna start letting you set up my dates.” he jokes.

“It was all Tinder actually.” you shamefully admit.

“I figured. I was just too nice to mention it.” he says, sarcasm oozing out of every word.

He jokes a lot.

“Very nice.” you agree.

“I think it’s dumb, by the way. You have to meet people organically.”

“Like disrupting their dates?” you gawk.

Josh acts offended, his mouth hanging open slightly. He places his palm over his heart and sucks in a small ripple of air. “How dare you. I saved you.”

“You did.” you remark. “You’re ten times more fun than he was.”

Your eyes lock and immediately the demeanor changes. You stare at him as he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. You groan internally, embarrassed to admit you’re beginning to pool between your legs.

“You wanna get out of here?” Josh asks after another silent moment.

“Where?” you ask.

“My house. I have an ax sharpened.” he says in a serious tone before erupting into a fit of giggles. You join in, gathering the four pieces of paper in your hands. “I’ll clear your tab.” He offers, his hand extended to yours to accept the cash.

You hand it over, the skin of your hands briefly meeting. Electricity shoots up your arm and travels to your core. His skin is soft and smooth like butter, and you imagine what it would feel like to drag your tongue across him.

After your tab was cleared, you walked side by side down the street. Josh had the idea of ice cream. You agreed, deciding the cold taste of ice cream might be able to bring you back to earth for a second. As you stand in line at the small truck just down the street from the restaurant, goosebumps prick on your arms. Your teeth chatter as if it's 10 degrees outside when in reality, it’s probably only 70. Josh takes notice and silently removes his jacket and throws it over your shoulders.

Feeling embarrassed, you attempt to push it off, but his hand holds it in place on your upper back and you shutter. Josh grabs your cones and you quickly take it from his hands and take a lick, desperately trying to rid your mind of these thoughts.

“Do you want to hang out at my place? It’s just a block over.” Josh offers. Your mind hardly processes his words because it’s too focused on his wet tongue digging to his vanilla ice cream. “Sorry. That was too forward.” he takes notice of your lack of response. 

“No no! Please, I’d love to.” you recover. Josh nods and takes another lick of his own.

You didn’t know what you expected his apartment to look like, but it definitely wasn’t this fancy in your vision. You stand in the doorway as Josh flicks on the lights. They blink on, illuminating the entire patio. The floors are lined with wood, creating a cabin-look. The walls are white and filled with paintings of all sorts. A vinyl wall and bookshelf cover the larger area of the living room wall. Plants decorate the dark corners and bring them to life. It smells of essential oils and a fragrance you can’t decipher.

“Gonna come in and stay a while?” he smirks from across the room. You remove your shoes and his jacket before stepping farther in. “You can sit if you’d like.” he offers, handing you your ice cream cone.

You smile and take a seat on his sofa. Feeling oddly comfortable, you lean back against the cushions and eat your treat in peace. Your mind is too busy racing with thoughts that you don’t notice Josh when he takes a seat next to you. 

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” he says softly. The shock of his voice causes you to jump, your ice cream falling into your chest.

“Shit!” you jump up and scrape the cold substance off your chest. It drops onto the floor and dribbles down your dress. “Fuck!” you yell again, kneeling down next to it. You scoop it up with your hands, completely unaware of your surroundings.

Josh clears his throat and you raise your direction slightly to meet his eyes. The big brown beads glance down and then up again. Quickly, you grab the top of your dress and press it to your breasts and stand.

“Oh my god I am so sorry.” you apologize.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m just sorry about your ice cream.” he says calmly. 

“Josh-”

“Y/N. It’s fine. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you want to clean up. I can bring some more suitable clothes to change into as well.” he offers, handling this situation rather sweetly. 

You nod and stumble down the hall and into the bathroom. Almost immediately after shutting the door, you strip from your dress and hang it on a hanger. Wearing literally nothing under it, you climb into the shower and begin to scrub your body. The sound of the falling water drowns out your thoughts–well, almost all of them; not Josh.

The way his eyes stared at your peaking breasts. The way his tongue swiped over his plump lip and dug into his ice cream. The way he handled your emotions had your hand drifting between your legs. Maybe after this you could actually think right the whole night.

Your fingers worked quick circles into your core, small moans escaping that were swallowed by the shower. You were imagining his hands on your breasts, his tongue tucked away into you and his cock down your throat. His name slips off your lips and down the drain with the suds. 

Minutes later, you regain composure and finish your shower. Stepping onto the mat, you notice clothes sitting on the sink. You slip them on after drying your body and comb through your damp hair with your fingers.

“Y/N?” Josh yells. “Hurry up and come out here.”

You finish prepping yourself and find Josh in the living room, his legs crossed at the knee as he sits on the couch. You sit on the ‘L’ part of the sofa, across from him. Josh doesn’t look at you, but he threads his bottom lip through his teeth.

“What did you do in the bathroom?” he asks, his eyes finally meeting yours. His usually high pitched tone has disappeared. Taking its place was a deep huffy voice. It suits him, but it makes you shift in your place. Josh’s eyes are deep and dilated, his body angled towards you in a strategic manner.

No. He couldn’t know, could he?

You swallow. “I showered. I thought you said it was-”

“No.” he says firmly. “What did you do?” he pushes himself to the spot next to you.

Your heart beats in your chest so loud, you’re certain Josh can feel the vibrations. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and anxiously let your eyes focus on your hands folded in your lap. Josh is so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. Maybe it’s still the alcohol, or maybe it's the smell of his cologne or the look in his eyes, but you feel yourself leaking between your legs.

Josh grabs your chin with his finger, dragging your attention back to his. You’re nervous to look him in the eye, afraid that he can see all the things you’re imagining right now. But your arousal is too much, and you give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you’re able to whip up. You watch as his lips part and his breathing hitches in his chest. The prolonged eye contact finally snaps as his eyes fall to your chest and wander down the rest of your body. 

“How do you think I feel?” he asks, his breath on your cheek. “Knowing a hot girl who I had been so nice to, was getting herself off in my shower?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Josh- I’m-”

“Shh, baby. You’ve done enough talking.” he presses his wet lips on your jaw, his hand now resting on your thigh. “I was being nice and dropping you off some clean clothes, but when I walked in, I heard those sweet little moans.” he groans into you, his hands traveling farther up your leg. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I heard you moan my name as you came all over your hands.”

His fingers slip into your–or his– pants and his finger just barely brushes across your hip bone.

“Josh-” you attempt.

“No underwear? You filthy thing.” he purrs to you as he slides a finger through your folds. You open your legs, begging him to continue, which he happily does. “Oh mama, you’re so wet.”

“Jesus.” you cry, wrapping your arm around his neck for support. “Please.”

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asks, his singular digit still moving at an agonizingly slow pace through your folds. 

“You, Josh.” you cry, ignoring how pathetic you sound. “Since I first saw you tonight.”

“And when else?” he asks, sliding a finger into your entrance. You gasp and your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Keep talking or I’ll stop and leave you dripping all over my fucking couch.” he threatens. 

“When you were eating your ice cream.” you admit.

“What about it, Y/N?”

His finger pumps into you now. “When your tongue was digging into the ice cream.”

“Awe,” he taunts, removing his finger from you. “Did my pretty girl wish that was her cunt?”

“Josh, please.” your body trembles at the loss of contact.

“I know. I just want to kiss you is all.” he says, dropping his act for a moment. Your lips connect softly and only for a few seconds before he pulls away. You groan involuntarily. “Relax, mama. I want my tongue in something else right now.”

He drags himself to the floor, his fingers hooked on either side of your pants. He pulls them down with him and slips them off your feet. The cold air that coats your slick makes you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Hey,” Josh says, slapping your thigh lightly. “Watch me. Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You nod and stare at him as he reaches down and kisses your heat. Your hips rock upwards, desperately looking for any type of friction. Josh doesn’t like this so he pins your legs with his two arms, his lips curving into a shit-eating grin.

Your eyes don’t break contact as he spits into your core. You watch wide-eyed as his tongue licks a firm strip up your center. You cry out his name as he begins to lap at your clit. Your hands find his hair, tugging on it firmly as he eats your pussy. The eye contact becomes too much and your head falls back, almost immediately after, he detaches his mouth. 

“What the fuck?” you shout angrily. 

He brings his hand to your cheek and smacks it. It stings for a second but no longer. “Don’t talk to me like that or I’ll go to bed and leave you with your fingers again.”

“No, baby. Please.” you cry from under him. 

“Fuck. Say that again.”

“Please fuck me baby.” you squirm.

“Oh, mama. I will, but first I wanna taste your cum, okay?” You nod frantically, unable to form any other words. “But you gotta be a big girl and watch me, okay” You nod again.

He dives back in, mercilessly sucking on your clit. You squeeze his hair, dragging his face into your throbbing cunt. He laps at you as if he’s a starved man, his lips kneading at your sensitive bundle of nerves. It doesn’t take long until you feel a knot form in your stomach. You nearly cry as you haven’t had this feeling in a while. You moan loudly, unable to control it anymore. Josh adds a finger, removing his mouth from your throbbing clit. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby? Let it go.” he insists, connecting his mouth to you again as he adds a second finger. 

It happens quickly, but your eyes explode with a million little stars. You’re panting like a dog as Josh works you through your orgasm, never saying a word about the mean grip you have in his hair. He encourages you on until you’re nothing but a shuddering mess in front of him. He pulls his fingers out of you with a pop and you watch wide-eyed as he slips them into his mouth. He shuts his eyes and removes your slick from his fingers, savoring every last drop of it.

“You taste like heaven, mama.” he smiles as he crawls on top of you.

You’re painfully aware of how much clothes he has on. Determined to do something about it, you reach for the hem of his white t-shirt and rip it over his head. A wave of shock blesses his face before the taunting demeanor replaces it again. You’ve never been one to like being degraded, but you’d do anything for him. The idea of him makes you wet all over again.

“Needy, eh?” He plants a kiss on your neck before pulling on the skin. “Gonna mark you up. Show everyone who you belong to.”

“Please. Do whatever.” you mutter as he licks up to your ear.

“You’re such a slut, aren’t you?” he buzzes into your ear. “Should have known by that dress you were wearing.” he continues, his hand trailing down your shirt while his lips plant sweet kisses across your collarbone. “The way it hugged you so perfectly. I nearly fucked you right there on the floor when your tits were visabile. You like that, huh? Being looked at?”

His large hand cups your breast through the cotton material and your back arches into his groin. He’s painfully hard against your leg. You squirm and move your hand down to palm him through his jeans. He whimpers into your ear, causing you to go feral. 

“Josh. Can I taste you?” you ask.

“How can I say no to you, love?” he pushes off of you and stands to his feet. Peeling his jeans off, he tosses them next to your pants. Then, he backs up, giving you enough room to sink to your knees in front of him. 

Sitting eye level with his pulsating cock, your mouth waters. The thin fabric is the only thing between you guys and your stomach quenches at the thought. Teasingly, you plant a kiss on his belly button and latch onto it with your teeth, giving it a soft tug. He watches you below him, his mouth hanging open. You stare into his eyes as you place a sloppy kiss on the head of his dick.

“Y/N. If you keep teasing it will be over all too soon.” he warns, pulling you back by your hair. You run your tongue over your lips as he lets you go.

Finally, you remove his boxers and watch as his cock springs free. You let out a moan as it bounces just inches from your face. Josh’s head falls back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You stare at the head of it and notice the precum leaking across the top. Growing impatient, Josh strokes himself, leaving you to ogle with drool peaking at the corners of your mouth.

“Take that off.” he demands, motioning to your shirt. “Wanna watch those perfect tits bounces as I fuck that pretty mouth.” He runs a finger across your bottom lip, gathering your drool before sticking it back in your mouth. You suck on it as you pull the shirt off your head and toss it to the side. Then you lean in and lick a slow stripe across the tip of him.

“Jesus, Y/N. Be a doll and open up, yeah?” he whines. You do as you’re told and stick your tongue out. Josh smacks the head of his length on your tongue, his precum splashing into your mouth. Slowly, he slides himself into your mouth, giving you time to adjust before moving any farther. 

Your throat burns as he reaches the abc of your throat. Eyes watering, you look up at him and feel him twitch inside of you. 

“God.” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair and moving you along him. You wrap a hand around the shaft and the other to his balls and begin to suck him. He groans through tightly shut teeth as you take him as best as you can. “Tap on my leg if it’s too much, okay?”

You nod and as soon as you do, he slams his cock into your face. You gag pathetically, but that only seems to turn him on more. He cusses above you as he fucks into your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. You can feel him twitch inside of you as you focus your breathing. Your hand squeezes his balls slightly and he pushes all the way into you that your nose brushes across the thin line of pubic hair. He pulls out, leaving only the tip of himself on your lips.

“Good girl. You look so pretty with my cock down your throat.” he praises, wiping your tears off your cheeks. His hands grab your under arms and pull you to your feet. He kisses your lips softly at first, tasting himself on your skin. It turns sloppy and his tongue dances in your mouth. You try to fall back on the couch, but his hand grabs your back to prevent you.

“Josh, I want to-”

“I know what you want mama,” he growls, his fingertips digging into your love handles. “You said you liked to be watched. So you’re gonna watch.”

He grabs your hand tightly and drags you down the hallway. You pass the bathroom where just an hour ago, you were cursing his name. He opens his bedroom door and turns on a lamp, casting an orange light across the walls of the room. You see in the corner, a large wooden vanity. He pushes you that way and you show no objection. He stops you in front of it and steps behind you. His cock is brushing over your ass, causing you to moan quietly. He brings a hand to your neck and squeezes slightly, straightening your face so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror in front of you. 

You’re a mess. Your hair is darting every which way, tear stains on your cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers your body, your pussy dripping with anticipation. You can barely make out the hickeys and bruises on your neck, but you can feel them there. Josh reaches in front of you with his hand that isn’t wrapped around your neck. He drags it down your stomach, his finger tips starting a blazing fire across your skin before reaching your throbbing cunt. He slides his fingers through your lips, gathering your wetness. 

“Look at how pretty you are, Y/N.” he says, your eyes glued to each other in the mirror.

“Please.”

“Please what?” he says. “Say it.”

“Fuck me, Josh.”

He works circles into your clit again and you swallow loudly. “Meh. Gonna have to ask nicer than that.”

You don’t even care how pathetic you sound. You need it. “Please, baby. Please fuck my pussy. I need to feel you in me.”

“Look at you, crying for my cock. Bet you haven’t been fucked right in a while, huh? Them Tinder dates don’t know how to fuck my girl, do they?”

“No!” you cry. He pulls away and presses you against the cold wood. Your breasts smash against it and your cheek is laying flatly against the surface as well. 

“Gonna give it to you, okay? Gonna fill you up so good, and you’re gonna watch.” He growls, grabbing a fistfull of your hair and pulling you up so you’re watching yourself in the reflection in front of you. Josh is just as fucked-out as you are. His curls are damp, sweat beads running down his neck.

As you open your mouth to speak, he pushes the tip into your aching entrance. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, Josh’s doing the same. You both sigh in unison before he pulls out almost completely. With no warning, he crashes back into you, a pornographic moan filling the room. Using your hair as a handle, he fucks you merciessly. Skin slapping on skin fills the house, your moans leaking out into the hallway.

“You’re so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock just right.” he informs you through hooded eyelids. “Look at yourself. So perfect.”

“Josh, I'm so close. Don’t stop!”

“Yeah? Yeah, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?” he hisses. “Fuck. Are you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” you say as he thrusts into you.

“So dirty. You’re fucking getting it. Is that okay?” he half demands, half asks.

“Yes! Please, whatever you want, Josh.”

“Jesus.” he cries, picking up his pace. His thrusts are becoming sloppy, letting me know he’s close.

He reaches over you and cups your breast, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. He squeezes your hard nipple before moving it down to your cunt. His fingers work your clit and you’re about to explode. 

“Cum, darling. I can feel you clenching me so tight. I’m right here with ya. Make a mess.”

With his encouragement, your body explodes for the second time tonight. You let out a raspy curse of his name and he falls over the edge with you. You can feel him painting your insides as he continues to wreck you.

“Yes, baby! Take my cum, take it.” he cries into your skin. 

After Josh rides out his high, he pulls himself off your sticky back. His face is a deep red and is coated with sweat. He pulls out of you with a sigh and you flinch at the feeling of being empty of him. Within seconds, you feel his hot release begin to run down your leg. You’re still beant over the desk, trying to regain your composure when you feel a hand on your back.

“Hey, mama. You okay?” he asks, worriedly.

“Mhm.” you nod.

“Can I?” he asks. You’re not sure what he means, but given he just came inside of you, you nod. He places a towel between your legs and works the fabric across your thighs. Your heart warms as you realize he’s cleaning you. A few seconds later, he sets the dirty towel on the vanity and pries your hands off the wood. Feeling a bit stronger, you stand but throw your arms around him anyways. Could you walk? Probably. Did you just want to feel his skin again? Yes.

“How about a nice bath?” he asks.

“That’d be nice.” you agree. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The hickeys are more visible now and you run a hand over them. 

“So I belong to you now?” you joke, remembering his words.

“Oh mama,” he pulls you closer. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you after tonight.”

[mistress-ofmagic]

Around the Realms in 80 days- Chapter 18

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.

Notes: Oh hi there! Welcome to another chapter (this Is pretty good timing for me, two chapters in a month? Who says I don't feed you! This was a fun chapter to write, I did a lil bit of breaking the 4th wall here lol! I know a lot of you hated Latte to begin with because she was a lil nervy and didn’t always stick up for herself (Im only going off on what I would be like guys lmao some of us are very soft and not at all brave or heroic) and I know she’s a bit of a reluctant hero or an anti-hero, she'd much rather be chilling somewhere with her coffee than faced with this shit! 

Anyway, enjoy!

Read this story on a03!

find all parts to this story on Tumblr here

Jesus Christ…” You muttered under your breath as you stormed off, leaving Stark Towers behind you. 

“Uh…Latte?” 

You span round to face Oliver, who was having to do a fast pace walk to catch up with you.

“What?” You asked rather sharper than you intended. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing. It’s been…”

“Stressful morning?” Oliver grinned good-naturedly.

You sighed. “Kind of.” 

“I can’t imagine. Where do you want to go?” 

“Honestly I don’t know the city at all.” You forced a smile, trying to forget L-O-K-I and enjoy the rest of your day. 

“Where would you recommend?” 

Oliver smiled again. He was a smiley person, you noticed. Unlike he-who-shall-not-be-named who usually looked unimpressed at best, especially when you were around. He looked cute again today; it felt strange seeing him without his lab coat on, as if he was missing something somehow. He was wearing jeans and a graphic tee-shirt, his brown hair tousled again as if he constantly runs his hands through it, and his hazel eyes seemed to light up when he smiled. His face was open and sincere, again unlike Loki who was closed and harsh. Maybe there was something to be said of their life experiences though; while you didn’t know much about Oliver and his life, you doubted he had ever tried to take over an entire planet and been defeated and imprisoned. 

Still…suppose you can never be too careful. Enough tinder dates had taught you that.

You realised you had been staring at him and hadn’t listened at all to his response. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked sheepishly. 

He laughed, “I suggested we could go to the museum of modern art? Or if you would prefer to just see some sights we could go to times square…?”

“Museum sounds good. Sorry, I’m a little distracted.” 

He chucked as you started heading off in the direction of the museum together. The day continued to be pleasant enough and you actually began to enjoy your stroll despite the way the morning had gone. 

Oliver broke the cordial silence.

“So then, I guess the number one question…how did you get landed with the task of being Loki’s…companion?” 

“Companion?” You screwed your face up. 

Oliver laughed, “well, whatever you’d call your relationship.”

“I try not to call it anything.” You muttered under your breath.

You begin to explain the situation to Oliver, and the rollercoaster that was yours and Loki’s so called “relationship”. 

Oliver gave a low whistle after you finally finished regaling him with your sorry tale of woe.

“Man…that’s heavy.” 

“Horrible isn’t it.” You sighed glumly. 

“I can’t believe you got kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped, bullied by trolls, meeting Loki, it’s been the worst of times.” 

He laughed and you scowled at him.

“It’s not funny, my life is a Shakespearen tragedy.”

“No no, of course not, I’m sorry. Is meeting Loki really as bad as being attacked by trolls?”

“Far, far worse.”

For some reason, Oliver seemed to think you were joking and laughed. 

 But…you do seem to find yourself in some scrapes don’t you.”

“Scrapes find me, I am merely a passive entity to which disaster finds.”

“I find that a little difficult to believe, given that by the sounds of it you basically begged to stay here.” Olivers eyes twinkled with good-hearted mirth. 

“That’s…that’s beside the point.” 

“Of course, of course. You know…I’m not so sure though.” 

“About what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, and despite all your complaining, I’d say you rather enjoy traveling around with Loki.”

You spluttered, “What? What are you trying to say?” 

“Loki this, Loki that. I’m just saying, for someone who hates him so, you do enjoy talking about him.”

You stared at him, horrified. An awful though suddenly appeared…over the past few weeks had you managed to pass the Bechdel test? 

“That’s not…” The words got stuck in your throat. 

Maybe Oliver could tell how nauseated you were because he said gently,

“I’m joking Latte. It sounds like you’ve been through hell and back. You’ve been so brave I’m not sure many people could do what you have done.” 

You blushed and stuttered for a different reason.

“I’m sure that’s not true. Besides I didn’t really have a choice. Sink or swim I guess. I was pretty cowardly to begin with, I let Loki scare the shit out of me. I’m not…a brave person, I’m not particularly tough.” 

“I would disagree, the story you just told me would suggest otherwise. Jesus knows I couldn’t have done half the things you did, I would have laid in the corner and cried.”

You snorted.

“Arguably, that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing.”

“You’re the hero, you have to go through some sort of journey.” Oliver winked at you. 

“Oh please, I’m definitely the anti-hero, the people at home watching the inevitable film of my life will be screaming at the tv I’m sure.” 

“Well, anti-hero or not, I’d watch that movie.”

You really wanted to make a snide comment about that making Loki the villain in this particular story, but you kept your mouth shut given that Oliver seemed to think you were infatuated with the Asgardian God. Definitely not true, by the way. 

“Sure, ‘my life as the worlds worst avenger’ coming to cinemas soon.”

“I think I’d prefer ‘How to train your fire demon.’” Oliver joined in. 

“Or, ‘Asgardian Psycho.”  You snorted, thinking back to Loki.

“What about ‘An Earthling in Asgard?”

You grinned, “it’s good, but a little on the nose, plus I’m not just in Asgard anymore, I’m quite the realm traveler.” 

“Fine then, how about ‘Around the Realms in 80 days.” 

You laughed, “That’s not bad, you never know with the rate things are going I might end up doing just that.”

“How are you feeling about your upcoming trip?” 

You sighed, a little wave of anxiety settling into your stomach. 

“Pretty nervous. I’m not sure who I think I’m kidding being here in the first place, and now apparently I’m traveling to a dangerous realm of fire and brimstone, where I’ll probably get myself killed no doubt.” You paused,

“Sorry, I don’t mean to offload! It can’t be much worse than the current state of things anyway.” 

“Please, don’t feel bad!” 

“Maybe some modern art will cheer me up. Hey, actually, how did you find out my stupid nickname?” You asked, realising he had been calling you your misnomer. 

Oliver laughed sheepishly,  

“Well, I heard Thor call you that when he was talking to Stark yesterday.”

“Oh god, what did he say?”

“Only good things!” Oliver hurried to reassure you. “Just discussing your amazing performance with the demon in the cell.” 

“Hm, I don’t believe you but for the sake of my self-esteem I won’t press further.”

After a short walk, you made it to the museum and followed Oliver inside. You insisted on paying for your own ticket, of course. 

You had just about settled into an enjoyable afternoon, wandering around the exhibits when your phone starting beeping. You ignored it at first and then your phone started ringing. 

You stared at it and blinked twice as Loki’s named popped up on your phone. It had also been him texting you apparently. The message flashed on your screen.

                   Loki: There’s an emergency 

“Is everything okay? You look ill.” Oliver asked. 

“This can’t be good.” You sighed. “Let me take this.” 

You walked over to the entrance of the exhibit as to not disturb everyone there. 

“Loki?”

“Hello little mortal, enjoying yourself on your, what do the young midgardians call it, A date?” Loki spoke lazily.

“Its not a date!” You hissed loudly into the phone, raising some eyebrows around you.

“It’s not a date.” You repeated again quietly as you turned your back. 

“I think the lady doth protest too much.”

“Seriously what is wrong with you?”

“Not much, what’s up with you?” 

You could basically feel Loki’s irritating grin through the phone.

“God you give me whiplash. What do you want Loki I’m busy.”

“Not too busy to pick up the phone I see.” You could hear a smug tone to his voice.

“I only picked it up because you said it was an emergency.” 

“What emergency could I possibly need your help with.”

“Okay, goodbye Loki.” 

“Wait, actually there is an emergency.”  

You sighed and rubbed your forehead. Man, this god was going to turn you grey. 

“What?” You snapped. You were in no doubt there was no emergency and Loki was ringing you to just mess with you. 

There was a pause on the phone. You considered hanging up before he finally continued, 

“Stark has arranged for a movie night tonight and we all have to attend.” In his defence Loki sounded very glum, as if something horrible had truly happened. 

“That’s not an emergency Loki. Now excuse me while I go back to my not date.”

“Where are you?” He asked.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and you looked around you, scared incase he popped up from behind a statue or something. 

“Were in the museum of modern art. Why?” 

“No need to sound so distrustful.” Loki sounded amused, “I had no idea you were such a connoisseur of fine art, you never struck me as the type.” 

You bristled at his insinuation that you were not sophisticated enough to enjoy art. 

“I actually love going to museums. Just because I don’t walk around acting like I’m the dogs bollocks doesn’t mean I’m not cultured.” 

“Do you have to use such crass language when we speak?”

“Do we have to speak at all?” You retorted back, still scanning the room slightly just incase he showed up. 

“I visited your planet with Odin and Thor when I was a child and we visited a place called Rome, they had a great number of many museums.”

“Oh? Was this when Julius Caesar was still in power?”

Loki ignored your comment, 

“Of course, not as many as we have on Asgard. Since you are so interested in museums I can visit together the next time we visit.” He spoke lightly.

You paused, was Loki asking you out? And not just because he had to because of the whole babysitting thing?

“Uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t think that I would go back though, to Asgard. Odin wasn’t mighty pleased I was there in the first place.”

“Odin is not usually mighty pleased about anything, especially if I’m involved.” He kept his voice light and humorous, but there was something deeper underneath. 

The admission came as a surprise, you weren’t that used to Loki speaking about his feelings (kind of) so easily and you were stumped for a response. 

“Well New York has plenty of museums too.” You offered, unsure of what else to say. 

“Indeed.”

The phone went quiet again. It really was unsettling how quickly the two of you seemed to go from arguing to tolerating each other, and even more unsettling, the occasional moments of companionship with a hint of friendship. 

Not that you were sure he would put you in that category with  the way he had recently snapped at you; when you’d tried to enquire about his parenthood and just before you came on this not date. Although he had also magicked your up a new wardrobe and seemed to get very upset when he thought you were dying so that had to count for something, right?  

Come to think of it, you never actually really addressed the whole “friendship” thing after that long talk the other night on the balcony, where Loki had finally stopped acting like a dick for long enough as to apologise for his actions and have a serious conversation about where you stood with him. He had really opened up then, about how he felt about getting close to mortals. You supposed you couldn’t really be too shocked then, when he seemed to distance himself from you a little the last few days. 

The hot and cold act was not enjoyable but was almost understandable if you saw things from his perspective. You just had to be careful not to get burnt or frozen in the process. 

Not that anyone wants to look at things from Lokis perspective for too long, they’d get a migraine. 

Look at you being all mature and shit! 

You thought back to those nights of sharing a tent with Loki, it felt so long ago now despite not being long ago at all. You had been so scared of him then, so unsure of how he would react next. 

Now? Well he was still a mystery and could still be a complete arse, but perhaps he was opening up to you, slowly. You needed to be patient but only to an extent right, he was obviously a complex guy; not that that gave him a right of passage to be a knob. 

“What are you up to then now?” You asked.

To your surprise, Loki played along. 

“Well now you’re gone I get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once, reading my books.” 

You almost hit back with “so that’s why you called me then, is it?” But stopped yourself. You realised then that Loki was bored. That’s why he’d been so annoyed that you had spent the afternoon with Oliver. Probably. 

I mean, aside from you and Thor, it’s not like he had a lot of friends from what you had seen. Another thing the two of you actually had in common. You didn’t have a lot of friends here either. 

You bit down on your nails, an old habit you had whenever you felt anxious about something.

“Stop that dreadful noise or I shall put the phone down.”

Only paying half attention, you stepped back into someone and banged your side pretty hard. 

“Ow, dickhead.” You muttered as they shot you a dirty look and walked off. 

“What? What’s happening?” Loki barked. 

“Oh nothing, just this asshole walking into me.” 

“Was it that Midgardian boy?”

“What midgardian boy?” You asked absent-mindedly. “Oh shit, Oliver.” You suddenly remembered your not-date probably wondering what the hell you were doing. 

“Anyway, I should get back to…I’ll see you later.”

 “yes.” Loki said stiffly “I’d hate to keep you from your beau.”

“Nobody says beau anymore by the way. S’later.”

“Goodbye mortal.”

You hung up your phone and quickly went to rejoin Oliver. 

“Hey, sorry I took so long.”

“Everything okay?” 

“Literally fine, he just wanted to complain about Tonys movie night or something.” 

“Look at you, movie nights with the Avengers!”

“I know, I’m going up in the world. Careful what you say to me now, I’ve got the force of Earths defenders on my side.” 

Oliver chuckled and held his hands up. 

“I see that. Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you.” 

You turned back to the photography exhibit, wondering what it would actually be like to visit a museum with Loki one day. 

                                                                   ***

You wandered back into the towers later that evening. After the museum, you had gone for a few drinks with Oliver and, as it was, you were feeling rather tipsy. 

Actually, this was the second time you had been tipsy in the last few days, you reminded yourself, better not make it a habit. 

Still, Oliver was cute, right?

Not rip-my-clothes-off-and-take-me cute, but cute all the same. 

He was very sweet and funny too and although you maybe saw him as friend-material at the moment, that didn’t mean something couldn’t happen in the future. Plus it was nice to have a friend that wasn’t a hundred year plus old god. 

You could get used to the city living, although there was a part of you that missed the Asgardian country side too.

The atrium into Stark Towers took your breath away, you felt far too unsophisticated to be staying there. It was not the sort of place you’d ever particularly imagined yourself but you were going to enjoy your time for as long as you had. Grinning, probably overly familiarly in your slightly drunken state, at the security and receptionists on the ground floor you made your way over to the lift, preparing to stand there for all of eternity due to the many floors. You decided to turn your phone back on to check for any messages you missed after turning your phone off earlier to save battery. 

Two missed calls and a few texts from Loki?

Loki: When are you retuning mortal it is nearly dark?

Loki: Mortal?

Loki: Answer my calls right this instance or there will be consequences.

Loki: Loki, Prince of Asgard. 

You snorted and replied.

You: Why did you text me your own name, weirdo. What’s up?

And for the fun of it, you sent him a little gif of the “wazup” scene in Scary Movie.

Making your way up the many floors in Starks state of the art lift, you waited for Loki to reply. 

Loki: How dare you not answer me when I asked you to. Clearly, you needed reminding of who I am. Secondly, what, in all of the nine realms is that?

You: Firstly, I’m not just at your beck and call Loki, I was a bit busy. Secondly, It’s a gif. It’s just like a moving picture that you send to be funny.

Loki: Busy? With that midgardian boy? Disgusting. I didn’t find the moving picture particularly amusing. Please don’t send me one again. 

You: Get your mind out of the gutter. 

You were hit with a sudden inspiration. You quickly searched for the gif you wanted and found it. Who knew there were so many Loki gifs. The particular one you were after was Loki shouting “kneel” to the ground in Stuttgart during his last soiree to Earth. 

Loki: ?

Loki: It is imperative that you tell me how you acquired this.

You laughed out loud to yourself, as you put your phone away wishing you could see Loki’s face as you had send that gif. 

You figured, given the time, that Stark would have already started the film night, so you headed towards the most likely lounge areas on the penultimate floor. Your guess was right, and you could see through the glass doors the Avengers sat around watching what you were pretty sure was Kill Bill. 

The sight made you giggle, and you remembered you needed to try very hard at not being a little bit drunk. You were pretty sure the Avengers all thought you were slightly strange to begin with, you needed to change their mind. 

You shushed yourself aloud, and prepared to enter quietly and normally. Quietly and normally. Quietly and normally.

You pushed the door slightly and entered. So far so good, no one had particularly noticed you entering. Quiet and normal. Excellent. You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat. Your long distance eye sight wasn’t great as it is thanks to years of starting at screens and it was pretty dark, but you thought there was one free near Thor so you headed over silently.

That was, until, someone very rudely had put a pouff right in your way and you tripped up, slamming your knees into the side of a sofa. 

“Shit” You yelled, rather loudly. 

All the Avengers in the room turned and started at you. 

“Nice of you to join us Wonderland, please come in.” Stark said, dryly. 

You grinned wildly, deciding it best not to say anything, and took the closest seat. 

“Mortal.” A low voice spoke to your left.

“Oh for gods sake” You muttered and glared at Loki for the audacity of sitting where you were now forced to sit. 

Loki seemed amused by this reaction and smirked at you irritatingly. You glared even harder and then faced the TV. 

“You’re back very late.” Loki spoke softly next to you, with a note of contention in his voice.

You decided to ignore him, and tried to focus on the film. You’d never actually seen Kill Bill all the way through and coming in half way was pretty confusing. Loki tried again. 

“I hope you haven’t been fraternising with your mortal boy?”

“Stop accusing me of fraternising every three seconds, and it’s none of your business even if I was." You huffed out of the corner of your mouth, as to not disturb the rest of them. 

Loki looked annoyingly happy that you had risen to the bait.

“I’m going to get popcorn.” You mumbled, and stood up to head towards the back of the room where the snacks and were. 

You stood up too quickly and had to grab the sofa and a blink a couple of times until the black dots stopped floating in front of you. You suppressed the need to giggle and made your way over to the back, being very careful to watch where you placed your feet. 

The lights were on towards the back and you squinted to get used to the light change. You hummed about the snack bar; Stark, or more likely someone who worked for him, had thought of literally every snack you might need to watch a film.

Pick and Mix, chocolate, popcorn, and plenty of treats you’d never even seen before. 

“What are these?” A voice spoke behind you.

You jumped in the air, very nearly spilling the popcorn you had picked up.

“Jesus Loki.”

You looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but you were pretty far back and out of ear shot around this area. 

“Can you not?”

“Not what? He asked, with a fake innocence.

“Not…do whatever you’re doing now.”

“I’m merely standing here.”

“And here I was thinking you had better things to do than stand and talk to Midgardians.” You repeated his words from earlier back at him.

Loki rolled his eyes at you. 

“You surely know how to hold a grudge.”

“I surely do bitch.” 

He didn’t find this very funny and shot you a displeased look. 

“You are drunk again.” 

You tutted and made double sure no one was listening.

“I’m not drunk Low-key.” You elongated his name as you helped yourself to some more sweets “I am a little tipsy maybe. Also you make it sound like all I do is constantly drink.”

“Well you have been drunk twice in barely as many days.”

“That was your brothers fault remember?” 

He let out a long suffering sigh, as if he didn’t particularly want to remember. 

“What are you eating?” He crinkled his nose up as you scuffed another gobful of popcorn. 

“Popcorn.” You said, with your mouth half full.

“Are mortals taught any table manners at all?” He asked, disapprovingly. 

“Do you not have popcorn on Asgard.”

He looked down at the spread of snacks. 

“No.” He said carefully.

“Well what do you eat for sweets then?”

“I suppose we have nuts and grapes.”

“Some nuts and grapes? Christ no wonder you’re so highly strung.”

You gathered a plate up for him with selection of all the amazing confectionary Earth had to offer. “Here, try these.” 

You stared at him in excitement as he ate a handful of Haribos. 

“Well?”

“Hm. I’m not sure I enjoy this texture.”  

“Try this next!” You very nearly shoved some popcorn into his mouth  in your excitement and then realised that would probably get you killed, which would have been messy in Starks fancy lounge; so you just pointed to it instead. 

Watching Loki try new things was surprisingly very entertaining to you. It was unusual to see Loki look so unsure of himself, as normally he swanned around cocky as anything. 

You sighed, thinking back once again to the other night on the balcony. Loki was very good at brushing over any moments of vulnerability, even though he occasionally showed it in moments like this.

With his slightly furrowed forehead and quizzical expression as he tried earthly sweets was the epitome of vulnerable. 

Loki made eye contact with you while you stared at him and swallowed his sweets down. 

“Why are you looking at me like that mortal?” He asked, suspiciously. 

“Nothing.” You smiled to yourself

“Now you are smiling like a loon. I hope you are not loosing your mind over that boy. We have a mission to complete, or have you forgotten?” He frowned at you, disgruntled.

“How could I forget the fact I’m heading to a burning wasteland soon.” You said sadly, thinking of your up and coming trip which, at best, ends in your death. 

“There is no reason to be nervous. You have proved yourself rather difficult to maim.” Loki stated, deliberately.

“Physically maybe but I’m going to need a hell of a lot of therapy when this is over.” You muttered. “Suppose I should enjoy this last moment of calm before the storm.” 

“What storm?” Loki asked cautiously. 

“It’s just a figure of speech.”

“Hm.” Loki made a non committal humming noise. 

“Let’s go finish off the film, I need the escapism.” 

You sat back down together and tried to refocus on the film. You mind kept wandering however and  you remained restless. 

Were things between you and Loki changing? How many Loki gifs could you send of himself before he murdered you in your sleep? 

And, most importantly, what fresh hell awaited you in the realm of fire? 

A/N: Who enjoyed my fourth wall break (kinda?) haha! Also keep tuned folks for some more plot (finally) after a couple of plot-less chapters!

Taglist:

@creationsbyme  @kikster606  @slytherinintj13  @th0rswh0res  @huntress-artemiss  @jannieka394 @stefffrs  @misswimberly @thedistractedagglomeration  @yoongissidebitchh  @purplekitten30 @mischief2sarawr  @johnmurphys-sass 

@lonadane  @imalovernotahater @lokisgoodgirl  @laliceee @dlwrish  @paetonnn

[writer-in-theory]

Swiping Right

Summary: When Steve helps set Robin up on a date from Tinder, he never expected to find a love of his own in her date's roommate. Prompt: “That’s how you do it, Hawkins, that’s how you do it!” // “You can stay at my place.” Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove, Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway Rating: Mature (for sexual humor) Word Count: 9.3k Content Warnings: Mild language, Mentions of Homophobia Read On AO3: HereA/N: This is my sixth fill for @harringroveson-bingo and my first fill for @billyhargrovebingo !! Huge thanks once again to @serenity-lattes and @lcvingprentjss for beta-ing and hyping me up the whole way.

When Steve got the SOS text from Robin, he was sure the worst had happened. Someone had broken into the apartment in the first year of it being theirs, an earthquake had somehow rocked the apartment but not the preschool building Steve worked at, Robin had somehow forgotten she was allergic to shellfish and indulged in some crab. 

Instead of finding any of that, Steve walked into their small apartment in San Diego to find Robin face down on the living room floor, arm outstretched above her head and phone resting in it, the screen on to show some app. Both relief and frustration bubbled up in him at the sight of his perfectly okay, if overly-dramatic, roommate. 

“Fallen and you can’t get up?” Steve recited dramatically, “You need LifeAlert!”

“You won’t be laughing when your best friend dies of literal embarrassment,” Robin groaned. “I can feel it coming, mortification, the likes of which my Sims have never even dreamed of.”

Steve gently nudged his friend’s side with his shoe, laughing when she let out a cracked groan and haphazardly tried to swat at his ankle. “You’re lucky I was already on my way home. What’s happening?” 

He walked the few steps into the connected kitchen, separated only by a little breakfast bar they used solely for coffee. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge before flopping to the ground by Robin’s head, plucking the phone right out of her hand before she could stop him.

“Hey! No that’s—”

“Tinder? Robs, you did not call an SOS for a Tinder emergency,” Steve cackled, “I know we said we were hopeless, but this is a little much.”

If someone would have told high school Steve that by twenty-three he would be living in San Diego with Robin Buckley, he would have never believed them. Yet here he was, clicking through the multiple failed attempts at conversations with the women Robin had matched with. Most of them were only a few replies long, barely scraping past the awkward pickup lines and ‘how are you?’s to really get anywhere. 

“Robin,” Steve sighed, sending her a pointed look when she finally lifted her head off her crossed arms just enough to look at him. “This is tragic.”

“I know that, dingus! I wouldn’t have called an emergency if I didn’t!” Robin shouted, her body springing into action and scrambling to sit cross-legged beside Steve so she could look over his shoulder at her phone. “You have to help me.”

“Me?” Steve laughed, “I’ve struck out more time than I’ve succeeded lately.”

“Yeah, because you suck at second dates.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true and you know it,” Robin countered, and well, Steve couldn’t exactly deny it. He could get the first date with no problem and had plenty of experience doing so. But considering his only long-term relationship had been with Nancy Wheeler during his Senior year of high school, he didn’t have too much experience keeping someone around. “You’ve had more first dates here than I ever thought possible, you have to help me. It’s the Gay Code.”

“Gay Code,” Steve repeated, trying not to laugh but unable to stop a few noises from slipping out. “Sure, Robs, I’ll help. But you owe me, there’s a reason I deleted Tinder.”

And honestly, Steve thought Robin’s profile looked good. He recognized a few of the pictures he’d taken on one of their adventures when she’d unceremoniously tossed her phone at him and demanded a photo. He even made an appearance in one, necessitating a small aside in her bio that they were ‘platonic with a capital P.’ It was the conversations that fell hard, and Steve understood for the most part. Talking to random people on a dating app could get really awkward really quickly, even for someone who enjoyed flirting as much as he did. Then factor that into the fact that Robin was someone who needed to warm up to people—exemplified clearly in the way she had given him only one-word replies for the first two weeks of their ice cream shop job in high school—and it was clear why Robin struggled to find easy conversation with these women.

Steve also knew that, if one of them would just give her a chance, it’d be impossible not to fall for her immediately. It had happened to him directly: going from thinking of her only as his weird band geek coworker to one of the best friends he’d ever had in just a few short months. 

“Oooh, Heather Holloway just matched with you,” Steve spoke up in a sing-song voice once the alert flashed up on the screen. “Oh, she’s cute. Careful, Robs, I might steal her.”

“Hey, my Tinder profile is not a way for you to meet pretty bi women, hands off if you’re gonna do that,” Robin countered, leaning forward as Steve began scrolling through Heather’s page. It was clear why Robin had swiped right in the first place—Heather was stunning and carried herself with the kind of confidence that couldn’t be learned. Her bio says she’s a model and she spends her free time volunteering at a youth gym for victims of violence.

“Okay, Operation: Get Robin a Date is a go.”

“God, you’ve been talking to Dustin too much,” Robin groaned, flopping onto her back dramatically and covering her eyes with her arm. “Just tell me the damage when you’re done.”

“You don’t want to know what I’m saying to her?” Steve asked, poking his roommate’s arm when she didn’t budge. “What if it comes up later when you get a date?”

“What makes you think I’ll get a date? She’s a fucking model, Steve.”

“Yeah? And you’re a badass grad student who’s already working on movie sets. Not to mention you have a really, and I mean really, great-looking best friend, and that’s always important in a good relationship,” Steve teased, knowing a lot of this came from some deeper place Robin likely wouldn’t want to examine closely at the moment, not sitting over model Heather Holloway’s gorgeous profile. “I’ll get you a date, leave it all to Stevie.”

“Do me a favor and hit me over the head next time you plan on saying anything like that.”

“Ouch, Robs,” Steve laughed, moving his free hand to clutch his chest while the other hand typed away another message to Heather. “Careful how you talk to the person holding your phone.”

The floor wasn’t comfortable in the least, but Steve stayed there the entire time he spoke to Heather as Robin. He was already sore from spending so much time wrangling the kids at work and the additional floor time would do him no favors, but it was all worth it for his best friend. Robin had been there through everything—shitty mall jobs, even shittier strip mall jobs, bisexual awakenings, and subsequent bi crises, Robin Buckley was there for it all. There was no way he would have made it out of Hawkins without her, so the least he could do was prove that she would find the right person now that they’d both escaped.

“Aha!” Steve screamed the second the message came in, shoving the phone close enough to Robin’s face to make her go cross-eyed. “Give me a crown and call me King Steve, because I just got you a damn coffee date!”

“You didn’t,” Robin exclaimed, yanking the phone out of his hand so she could read it better herself. “Holy shit, Harrington, you got me a date!”

“I know, I know, I’m just that good.” 

“Wait, wait,” Robin began as another set of ‘pings’ came in, eyebrows drawing together as she read the new messages. “You got us a date.”

“Robs, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean, it’s Tinder. It makes sense, I wouldn’t want to meet up with an axe murderer either.” Robin laughed, typing something back to Heather Holloway from San Diego. “She wants it to be a double date with her roommate and mine. She says he’s cute, you’ll like him.”

“I’m not dating,” Steve said, already climbing to his feet. His bedroom wasn’t far, he could make it before Robin caught up if he sprinted. It had been years since he’d played sports at the level he did in high school, but some of that athleticism must have been preserved somewhere. After all, while he’d had plenty of first dates and flings in the months since they’d moved to San Diego, he hadn’t exactly had anything serious yet. Steve wasn’t sure he was ready, not when he was finally figuring out who he was outside of Hawkins, away from his parents’ influence. 

“Please, Steve? C’mon, you can’t drop the ball now. It’s one date, and hey! What if he’s the one and you’re just walking away from him right now?”

Steve sent her a deadpan look, rolling his eyes at the thought that some random roommate of the girl she’d met on Tinder could be his perfect match. “If he was the one, we’ll find each other again later.”

“Steve Harrington, you are not blowing this for me. Do you know the last time I’ve gotten any kind of action? What I would do to get my fingers in so—”

“Lalala nope no no!” Steve screeched, hands flying up to cover his ears in case Robin decided to continue speaking over his shouts, cheeks reddening at the image of his best friend and roommate getting any kind of ‘action’. “Keep it rated PG-13 before I have a heart attack.”

“The point is, I need this,” Robin pressed. “Please? It’s just coffee. What’s the worst that could happen?”

She had a point. Even then Steve knew he wouldn’t refuse her, not when she was making that pleading expression. “Fine. One date, but that’s it, no matter how hot this guy is.”

Steve was going to kill Robin. It would be easy to do considering how much she trusted him. He had no idea how poison worked but he could figure it out before the next time he made their morning coffees, or he could push her down the stairs like some jealous dance student in a dramatic teen movie. Either way, she was a goner because cute did not even begin to cover how attractive this guy was. 

Though she’d been a panicked mess the entire walk to the coffee shop, Robin had immediately walked up to Heather the second they got there, leaving Steve to practically gawk at the man standing next to them. He couldn’t be real, like he’d stepped off the cover of some magazine Steve would never have read two years ago because all the guys were too gorgeous to look at without blushing. His shorts were just short enough to make Steve take quick looks at the hem in hopes the guy wouldn’t notice, and the way he’d left the top several buttons of his shirt undone was absolutely sinful. His dark blond hair was styled with just the right amount of messiness, one curl laid perfectly over his forehead in a way that screamed Superman, blue eyes shining bright as he took notice of Steve.

“I guess you’re the roommate,” the man said once Steve dared get close enough. He reached out his hand to shake and Steve thought he might keel over from that singular touch alone, blushing like he was back in high school when his crush noticed him for the first time. “I’m Billy Hargrove, Heather’s friend.”

“Oh, yeah, I am. The roommate, that is. Also the best friend,” Steve managed to get out, tugging his hand through his hair the second the handshake was over. “Steve Harrington.”

Never before had Steve felt so nervous, but he told himself as they were ordering and finding a table nearby the two women that it was all for good reason. This was California, and Heather was a model, and it would only make sense that she would have attractive friends. This was just one date, set up simply to protect their two friends during a Tinder meetup. After coffee, Steve would never have to see this guy again so it really didn’t matter how big of a fool he made himself out to be. 

“I gotta say, I’m glad you’re real, man,” Billy let out once they were sitting down with their coffees in hand. Billy had gotten something iced that looked about as sweet as Robin usually ordered while Steve sat with his hands warming around a cup of hot coffee.

“What, you thought this was a catfish situation?” Steve teased, knowing the thought had crossed his mind more than once in the week since Robin and Heather first matched on Tinder. 

“Hell yeah I did,” Billy chuckled, fingers gripping a little tighter around his cup. “Robin seemed too good to be true. Fuck, if I didn’t like guys I’d have fought Heather for the date.”

Yeah, Robin was a goner the second they got back to the apartment. Steve nearly spluttered around his coffee at the words, knowing that it had been him behind the entire conversation that Heather had shown Billy. Steve forced out a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too nervous as he answered, “Yep, yeah that’s Robin. Total catch.”

“Where are you and Total Catch from?”

“Why assume we’re not from around here?” Steve shot back instantly as if he had any sort of problem sharing about his life. He didn’t, not really, though the American Midwest wasn’t exactly the stunning or exciting answer Billy was likely looking for. 

“Because,” Billy began, leaning forward and smirking like he had some great secret to share. Steve found himself leaning in too, practically drawn to the other man. “I would’ve noticed a pretty boy like you years ago if you’d been here all along.”

Maybe Steve was the dead one. Maybe he’d keeled over the second he and Billy Hargrove made eye contact, and this was all some dream his mind was drawing up at the end. It was cheesy as hell and there had to have been something else that actually gave him away, and yet the statement was enough to nearly send Steve sprawling on the floor.

“Hawkins,” Steve blurted out before his mind completely blue screened and rebooted. “I’m from Hawkins. It’s this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. The most notable thing about it is the old mall that was built in the 80s. Its theme never changed so it’s like this relic from old times or whatever they’re calling it nowadays.”

“Hawkins,” Billy spoke like he was testing the word out in his mouth. “Well, welcome to California, Harrington.”

“What about you? Are you from here?”

“Born ‘n raised.” Billy flashed a bright smile, all white teeth and the hint of a dimple on one cheek. “I could take you sightseeing like a true welcome, show you everywhere we try to keep hidden from the tourists.”

“We’ve been in San Diego for nine months now,” Steve pointed out, though the image of him spending the day walking around with Billy under the summer sun wouldn’t leave his mind. “I think I know the city.”

“That’s your first mistake.” Billy reached out to rest his elbow on the table, pointing one finger in Steve’s direction. “You don’t know San Diego ‘til you have an expert to show you the real scene.”

“Yeah? You calling yourself an expert now?”

“I know a few things,” Billy returned with just enough mystery that Steve wondered if he wasn’t bullshitting the whole thing. 

“Well, then I might have to take you up on that tour.”

“We’ll call it our second date.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, finally beginning to relax into the conversation now that it was clear he could get along with Billy. “Who says you’re getting a second date, Malibu?”

“You do know Malibu isn’t anywhere near San Diego, right?”

He didn’t, but hotshot Billy Hargrove didn’t need to know that. “Maybe not, but I could mistake you for Malibu Barbie.”

“That so?” Billy leaned forward on his forearms then, tongue flashing through his lips for long enough that Steve had to avert his eyes lest his thoughts turn down a very different path.

Steve leaned forward to match him, close enough that with a little more effort he could find out how those lips tasted. “You bet, Malibu.”

Billy’s laugh was unlike anything else Steve had ever heard. It came out in a punch of sound, a little sharp around the edges like he wasn’t quite used to making the noise or like he tried to stop it in the first place. It was a deep rumble Steve was sure he’d feel in the man’s chest if he had the occasion to lay on it—not that he wanted to.

“You’re somethin’ else,” Billy laughed, and Steve couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. 

It was still early but Steve found himself wanting this to go somewhere, despite everything saying that this was too much, too soon. He wasn’t ready to date and yet he couldn’t imagine letting Billy slip away after the ease with which they talked over coffee. Steve hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until Robin and Heather walked over to their table across the coffee shop, hand-in-hand. The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky with brilliant golds and pinks that always made Steve wonder how the world could exist in such beauty every day. 

It only took one look from Robin to tell how well the women’s date went. She was practically beaming, eyes alight in a way Steve was sure he hadn’t seen before. She’d dated a couple of times since he’d met her—even daring a relationship with a girl from back home even when Steve feared even saying the word out loud. She hardly took her eyes off of Heather, only doing so long enough to send Steve a bright smile, the reassurance that she was okay. 

“Don’t wait up for me, asshole,” Heather told Billy, knocking his upper arm lightly with her knuckles. They seemed to have their own silent language, sharing expressions with one another that betrayed how long they’d known each other. 

“Speaking of,” Robin began, focusing her attention again on her roommate. “Do you have somewhere to stay for tonight?”

He didn’t, not really, but he would be damned if he took away this chance Robin had. Steve could see the look in Heather’s eyes, could see the pleading way Robin looked at him that told him exactly what their plan was for an empty apartment.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’ve got it figured out,” Steve told her, “Have fun tonight. But, hey, don’t have fun in the kitchen! I eat there.”

“Maybe I wanna eat there too, Stevie,” Robin shot back just as quickly, pulling an actual shriek out of Steve.

Billy cackled at the noise, tossing his head back and slapping his hand against his chest like that might force more breaths out of his lungs. “Oh, I like her,” he laughed, “see you later, Heather.”

Steve could feel his stomach swirling with butterflies, like he could feel Robin’s nervousness and joy for her. Maybe he could. Maybe that was the job of a best friend, to feel everything all at once so he’d know how to help her later. It certainly wasn’t because of the man sitting across from him who was now staring at his profile, Steve still turned in his chair to face where Robin had been standing. 

“Where are you gonna stay tonight?” Billy asked once Steve finally turned right in his chair, setting his empty cup at the edge of the table as a visual sign he was finished with his drink.

“I don’t know yet,” Steve admitted now that Robin wasn’t around to overhear, “but Robin was excited for today, I didn’t want her night to end yet.”

“You could stay at my place,” Billy offered, immediately causing Steve’s heart to start racing. If getting coffee was too soon, then staying the night certainly was crossing some kind of line Steve didn’t know existed. He’d been with guys before, he’d even had weekend-long escapades that kept him out of the apartment for days until Robin finally called and demanded his ass back home. But Steve didn’t want Billy to be a one-night stand, some fling that he’d reminisce about fondly but without any real follow-through in the end. He wanted more coffee, he wanted to find out more about Billy’s younger sister Max and what it was like growing up ten minutes from the beach, and how he and Heather had met in high school after she moved from the Midwest. 

“Not like that,” Billy quickly corrected, apparently able to see some sliver of Steve’s inward panic. “Heather won’t be there, we have a futon in the office if you really hate the idea of sharing a bed, and it wouldn’t be terrible if this date didn’t end.”

Steve scoffed out a laugh, shaking his head at the wording. “It wouldn’t be terrible, huh? That’s no way to win a second date.”

“I haven’t even started trying to win that second date. You’ll have no idea what hit you, Hawkins,” Billy returned, seemingly making the decision for Steve as he grabbed both cups to toss. “C’mon, I even have a bag of Doritos we can share if you’re hungry.”

Steve was helpless to resist, following Billy out of the coffee shop and down the street. The other man told him it wasn’t a far walk, which meant that they’d lived within walking distance of each other for months and had never met. Part of him found relief in that idea, knowing that Billy had never had the misfortune of meeting the nervous, awkward version of him that came straight from Hawkins, Indiana freshly out of the closet with no idea how to act once he could stop hiding.

Another, deeper, part of him ached at the idea that Billy would eventually see that version of him and would have no warning, no clue that it ever even existed. All he’d seen now was cool Steve, the guy who could walk into a coffee shop in muted green pants that Robin said screamed bisexual energy and immediately flirt with the hot guy he’d been set up to go on a date with. Would Billy be disappointed, once that other, far less sure Steve reared his head?

“This is us,” Billy spoke, thankfully stopping the spiral that Steve was nearly sent down. 

“You live above a boxing gym?” Steve asked curiously, taking note of the sign that had turned on in the dimming sunlight. ‘Safe Harbor’ was written in blue writing above the first floor of the building, where Steve could make out some boxing equipment just inside though it had clearly already closed for the day.

“I own a boxing gym, really,” Billy answered, hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was sheepish about it. “That one. I own that boxing gym.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Steve returned, dutifully following Billy around to the side alley where they climbed some stairs to the second-floor apartment. “What made you want to start a gym?”

“It’s a long story,” Billy began, fidgeting with his keys as he fought to find the right one, glancing up at Steve once before letting them both into the apartment. “But Heather came into extra money with her modeling thing, helped me get it started. It’s a place for victims of violence to go, somewhere they can train if they want, and learn some self-defense. Or just a place where they can be around people who give a shit, people who understand.”

The passion laced into every word made Steve think Billy understood those people, too, that maybe a ‘long story’ meant rather that it was a story too dark to tell someone he’d just met. Steve held onto that information, tucking it away to examine later when he could worry over the details on his own time. 

The apartment was nice, much nicer than the one he and Robin rented with their spare earnings saved from countless hours in the one movie rental store left open in Indiana. It was decorated cohesively, like the two people living there actually cared about the aesthetics of the place rather than the odd posters and various color themes that decorated Steve’s own place. 

“Want a drink?” Billy asked as he crossed to the kitchen, tossing his keys on the counter and immediately grabbing a beer for himself.

“Sure, why not?” Steve returned, taking the bottle Billy offered. They ended up on the couch, Steve sitting close enough to Billy that if he shifted just a little their thighs would press against each other. Already he could feel the heat radiating off of Billy’s leg, like the man himself was a furnace generating heat like that one guy who could catch himself on fire in Dustin’s old comics. 

“Did you and Robin meet in high school?” Billy asked when Steve checked his phone for any sign that Robin might not be as okay as she’d been when they left the coffee shop.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, kind of,” Steve laughed, tugging through the front portion of his hair at the memories beginning to resurface. “We knew each other, but I was kind of a dick back then.”

“Stop giving yourself such a hard time, ‘m sure you weren’t that bad.”

“Nah, I was a fucking prick,” Steve answered, “but I figured it out eventually. We had the same summer job once I graduated. We worked in the mall I told you about, scooping ice cream in these godawful sailor uniforms. You have to be best friends after that.”

“Now that I wanna see,” Billy laughed predictably, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush red at the image of standing in front of Billy in those shorts.

“I bet you do,” Steve returned, “lucky for me I burned that thing the second the mall closed for remodeling. Robin and I decided we wanted to keep working together after that, seeing as we were the only queer people we knew of in town.”

“That why you moved out here?”

“Kind of. It was a big part of it,” Steve tried to explain, focusing his eyes on the lip of the bottle in his hand rather than on the intense look from Billy. “I guess it’d be a little too cliche to admit I wanted to get away from my parents, start over out here.”

“It’s super fuckin’ cliche, but cliches exist for a reason.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve shrugged, mind already beginning to think of new topics than that of his parents. They hadn’t exactly been proud of him there at the end, from admitting he wouldn’t be attending law school with intention of taking over his father’s business someday to screaming his coming out at a company holiday party when his mother was pissing him off. “What about you? Any cliches I should know about?”

“What, other than being the rugged bad boy with a shitty dad and a charming attitude?” Billy joked, flashing another toothy smile that made Steve feel like he might melt into the floorboards.

“Who said anything about charming?” Steve cackled at the little throw pillow that knocked into the side of his head, sending him careening over onto the rest of the couch. “Fine, fine! Might as well call you Flynn fucking Rider with all the charm you have.”

“That’s fucking right, pretty boy,” Billy laughed. 

It was easy to talk to Billy, the pair of them staying up late into the night talking about anything and everything. When it finally came time to go to bed, Steve found he had no trouble shedding his pants and climbing into the empty space Billy left for him in the bedroom. 

“I’m glad you made Heather and Robin set up a double date, even if it was to be a protection detail,” Steve admitted.

“I am too,” Billy returned. “I’m glad you’re not a catfish, Steve, and you really are just good.” Steve winced, thankful that his back was to Billy by that point. They weren’t technically catfishes, though the feeling that he’d messed up by agreeing to that point sunk deep in his chest.

“Would it really be so bad if we were?” Steve laughed lightly, as if maybe joking about it might make everything better.

“I can’t stand liars. It’s the worst thing someone could do. How could anyone expect a relationship to last when it’s started off with a lie?”

“Good thing we didn’t then,” Steve wheezed out, lips feeling numb even as he said the words. “I want this to last.”

“Does that mean I get that second date, Hawkins?”

“Hm,” Steve pretended to think about it, body feeling lighter as they strayed away from the previous topic. It would be okay because no one would ever have to know that he’d been Robin for a full week. It was fine, because Billy was everything Steve used to wish for in the middle of the night in a town he thought he’d wither away in, and that meant everything had to work out. “I think you’ve done more than winning a second date, Malibu. I want to keep you around.”

They didn’t say anything else, or dare cuddle, but Steve did find the bravery to press a sweet kiss to Billy’s cheek, falling asleep with the promise of something special growing between them.

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“Yes, you are, Steve! Get in it!” Robin shouted, tossing the piece of cloth that could hardly be counted as a shirt at him. “It’s Pride, the one day a year you get to wear whatever the fuck you want.”

“Technically, I could wear whatever I want anytime.”

“Fine, then wear that shirt out to our next double date,” Robin pushed, smirking as Steve’s face blushed pink at the thought of going to dinner in that thing. “C’mon, it’s so cute and I really think th—Billy! Tell Steve to put that shirt on!”

Steve groaned as Billy and Heather walked through the door of their apartment, both decked out to the nines for the parade they all were going to. Heather looked absolutely gorgeous dressed in varying shades of pink and orange, with makeup and a splash of face paint topping off the look in a way that screamed she was a model for a living. Billy looked good too, not even bothering with a shirt and instead rocking just a pair of shorts and rainbow streaks painted artfully over his tattooed skin. Even Robin looked good, dressing more loudly than he’d ever seen her. Steve was certain the little shirt she wore was Heather’s, though considering how close the four of them had been in the past month there really was no telling who actually owned what clothes anymore. 

“You should definitely wear the shirt, Stevie,” Billy answered, grabbing Steve’s shoulders and practically shoving him in the direction of his bedroom. “Get on it. You gotta go all out for your first Pride.”

Robin had tried to get him to go that last summer they spent in Hawkins. There was a parade in Indianapolis, and Robin nearly got him to go under the idea that no one from their little town would even be there to recognize him. Still, the morning of as he painted the blue, purple, and pink colors of the bi flag on his cheek he found himself calling Robin, telling her to go without him because he just couldn’t. That was then though, before California and before their own apartment away from all those things they’d left behind. It was before Billy, who pushed Steve in ways no one else had before and made him feel things he didn’t even know could be felt so intensely by one person. 

So Steve sighed and put the shirt on. It was tight and practically sheer, ending just under his chest and shining in the bi-flag colors when he moved under the light. It was loud, gorgeous, and perfect. Of course, it was, considering Heather had dragged him out shopping for the thing a few weeks before and didn’t stop until they’d found the perfect outfit for him. 

Billy clearly thought so too, blue eyes widening as Steve finally came out of his bedroom wearing his completed outfit. “Damn, pretty boy, you clean up nice.”

“You’re a bit biased, Bee,” Steve laughed, pressing a kiss to a spot on Billy’s cheek that wasn’t swathed in paint. 

“Just callin’ it like it is,” Billy called after him, leaving Steve able to perfectly imagine the look he was making behind him. All bright eyes and devilish smirks, maybe even that damn tongue hanging out of his mouth that made Steve way too bothered whenever he dared do it. 

“Are we ready then?” Heather asked, pulling her phone away from where she’d taken a picture of her and Robin kissing. She’d already told the group that there would be dozens of pictures taken that day, saying she’d find some people to take pictures of all four of them for their Instagram pages. At this point, Steve might as well hire her as his social media manager for all the work she contributed to his page.

“Let’s go!” Robin shrieked, grabbing Steve’s hand and taking off out of the apartment like they weren’t the ones who’d have to lock up behind the others. 

She didn’t let go of his hand for the entire walk downtown, as if she knew he’d take off running given the chance. It wasn’t that he wanted to go—on the contrary, Steve could feel the same excited buzzing in his chest that he’d felt when Robin had found them tickets to his favorite band’s concert last summer. No, he’d been picturing this day for years and now that it was here, today had to be perfect. 

Steve could still hear his dad if he focused hard enough like if he blinked he’d find himself back in his childhood living room listening while his dad laid into him about the disrespect and humiliation he’d brought to the family. He’d be sitting there with tears in his eyes, looking to his mother for the support she always gave him but instead only finding cool deference to his father, the same way she’d always done when it came to major decisions for their family. 

“Hey,” Robin spoke up, squeezing his hand once like she knew where his mind had wandered off to. “It’s gonna be a good day.”

“I know,” Steve returned, smiling so she wouldn’t worry so much about him, “I know that. I just...”

“They’re not here. Even if anyone from home does see this, we’ll still be okay because we’re having the time of our lives out here.” Sometimes Steve wondered how he ever came to deserve Robin. She was the best friend he could ever imagine, staying right by his side despite all the shit he’d done in the years they’d grown up together. She easily could have made that summer job hell, making fun of how far he’d fallen from the king he’d once been. Instead, she gripped his hand tight and promised everything was okay, that maybe the world did not begin and end with towns like Hawkins, Indiana.

“My turn,” Billy said as he caught up to Steve’s other side, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist like he was guiding him down the sidewalk. Steve squeezed Robin’s hand one more time before she fell back to walk with her girlfriend, letting her know that he was okay. “You ready, Stevie?”

“Hell yeah I am,” Steve answered having begun to hear the pounding music of the party going on downtown.

Whatever Steve was expecting, the San Diego Pride event was twelve times bigger than that. There had to be hundreds upon hundreds of people in the streets, all dressed in rainbows and bright colors. Someone had handed Steve a flag that Billy tied around his neck like a cape and made Steve feel like some kind of fruity superhero that would make Captain America shake in his boots.

Never before had Steve seen so many happy people all gathered in one space before. Some were dancing, others were marching along in the street in time with the parade. Some were old with little kids running around them, and some looked like they were fresh out of high school and already more sure of themselves than the Steve of that age could ever have hoped to be. It felt a little like a dream, being there surrounded by people who understood, who belonged to each other for this one magical day.

Steve eventually had the courage to whoop and shout with the rest of them, raising his arms and cheering when the parade came by them. Someone waved him over, a drag queen who had one of the kindest faces Steve had ever seen. He barely glanced back at Billy before he was walking over to them, allowing himself to be pulled up onto one of the floats. He laughed and danced along, even tilting his head into the mic to scream out a song about living forever. At this moment, it felt a little like he could.

“That’s how you do it, Hawkins, that’s how you do it!” Billy whooped from the sides, beaming up at Steve like he were the stars blanketing the skies. 

“Is that one yours?” someone shouted about the music straight into his left ear. Steve could only grin and nod, captivated by the bright lights, the music, the crowd, Billy. 

Billy was in his element too, getting plenty of pictures from strangers who apparently recognized him. He’d explained once that his gym had a lot of queer youth come in, suffering from bad homes or violence from strangers who didn’t understand. He used to run a booth at Pride and had become some recognizable figure in San Diego which made Steve fall in love with him that much more. 

Because it was love, as it turned out. It was the kind of love that snuck up on Steve before jumping onto his back and latching on so tightly he had no hope of shaking it off. Billy wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. He was tough, full of sharp edges and sharp words, but he was also sweet, caring for people only in the way that hurt people could. Billy made Steve laugh and remembered the little things about him that other partners had never bothered to even ask about. He made Steve feel alive. 

He could feel it now, that same electric energy that had first shown in the coffee shop now raging between them. The second the last stranger walked away from Billy, he turned to look at Steve. A brilliant smile washed over him, his entire expression softening as he looked at Steve. It was this alone that made Steve close the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Billy and pressing a kiss to his lips. Billy returned in kind, melting into the embrace like there was nothing else in the world but him and Steve, standing there in the middle of the street while Pride continued on around them.

“That’s a good one, Babe,” Heather cooed over Robin’s shoulder, peering at her phone just a handful of steps away from him and Billy.

“Send that to me?” Billy asked, not daring to remove his large hands from Steve’s waist. 

“Of course,” Robin answered. “You both look so cute, you have to post that, Steve.”

“I will, I will,” Steve chuckled, ducking his head enough that some of his unruly hair fell into his eyes. He’d gotten better about accepting shows of affection in public, though the near-constant praise from the others sent him furiously blushing, hardly able to think through the waves pounding in his head. “Heather, do you and Billy want a picture?”

“Actually, I want a pic with you,” Heather answered instead, handing her phone off to Robin. “You are the one who got us all together.”

“I didn’t do anything, you two got together on your own,” Steve returned politely, pulling out of Billy’s grasp just so he could pose with Heather how she wanted.

“Cut it out, Steve, I already told her how you were the one talking to her for the first week because I was too chickenshit,” Robin laughed behind the camera. 

“What?” Billy was standing just behind Robin, but he wasn’t laughing like she was. In fact, Steve is sure he’d never seen the man more closed off in the entire month they’d been together. He could practically watch Billy shutter his expression, closing himself off from everyone around them.

And then it hit like a rogue baseball to the chest. He could feel the moment that everything began to crumble around him, helpless to do anything but stare in horror at Billy’s hurt expression. ‘I already told her how you were the one talking to her for the first week.’

“Billy, wait!” Steve called out as Billy began to walk away from him. It wasn’t hard to catch up to the man, weaving through the crowd well enough that he could grab onto his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“Let go of me, Steve.”

Billy didn’t turn around, didn’t face him. His words were harsh, practically gritted out from behind clenched teeth.

“Billy, please. I know it sounds bad but it really wasn’t anyt—”

“I need to be alone right now, Steve. Go back to Robin and Heather, have fun at Pride.”

“What? No, you can’t be alone, not today. Let me just explain and then you’ll understand everything,” Steve pushed, not letting go of Billy’s arm until the man yanked it harshly out of his grip. It was then Billy whirled around to face him, eyes nearly on fire with the rage carried within them.

“What part of leave me the fuck alone can’t you get through your thick fuckin’ skull?” Billy shouted, drawing the attention of a handful of people in the crowd. “I don’t want to see your face right now.”

“Billy, c’mon. It’s not that bad,” Steve groaned, his heart hammering away in his chest as Billy didn’t even dare to look at him. He was staring over Steve’s shoulder, finding some point in the distance to distract himself with.

“You fucking lied to me!” Billy shouted, cheeks turning red from the effort. “You know how I feel about catfishing, and you fucking hid that from me. You did it to my best friend and you hid it for a month because you knew it would hurt me. Did I get everything?”

“I didn’t! We weren’t catfishing, Billy, please!” Steve continued, not daring to walk away now. Something in Billy’s eyes told him that if he walked away now, he might never see Billy again. “Robin was scared, that’s it. She just needed help getting started, we weren’t going to keep doing it. And I didn’t even think it would matter at first! You weren’t supposed to be important.”

“So what, you thought because we had one date you could go lying about something like that? I told you, I told you how serious it was to me and you fucking—” Billy let out a frustrated shout, practically growling as he tugged at his hair. “Are you really stupid enough to think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, but you can’t stand here and act like I could’ve known then!” Steve shouted back, feeling his own anger bubbling up to the surface. There was no way for Billy to know how deeply those words cut into him, how badly they reworked old scars that Steve had tried to put past hime, marks from another life. ‘Stupid’ bounced around in Steve’s brain until he found his breath coming in shorter intervals, wondering how he’d fucked up so badly that Billy had figured it out so quickly. He felt bad, he did. He’d considered telling Billy about it for weeks but every time he tried, something in him stopped the words from coming out. He’d hoped the other man would never find out and they could go on like usual, but he should have seen this coming. He should have known. 

Of fucking course Steve would ruin the best thing to ever happen to him.

“I didn’t know I’d love you,” he admitted, feeling the words warm up the iciness freezing his chest. “I love you, Billy.”

“I can’t fucking look at you,” Billy muttered, turning away and walking off into the crowd. 

Steve vaguely noticed Heather running off in the same direction, and could distantly feel Robin’s hand on his shoulder. There were people giving him sympathetic looks, others coming up to them to ask Robin if he was okay, if he needed anything.

He couldn’t tell any of them that he needed Billy, that he needed to redo this entire day so none of it could go wrong again. 

He couldn’t tell them that, even standing amongst a crowd of happy people full of more love than he’d thought existed in the whole world, he felt endlessly, irreparably alone. 

It was a week before anything changed.

Steve found a rhythm in his new heartbreak: wake up, shower, go to work, and paint on a smile for the kids who were too innocent to be exposed to such negative emotions. He’d come home and have dinner with Robin and sometimes Heather, never daring to ask after her roommate despite how desperate he wanted to know how the other man was doing. He’d lay in bed for hours, not able to sleep alone after growing so used to having Billy’s strong arms around him. 

Then, one night after even the pure exhaustion taking over his body wasn’t enough to force him to sleep, Steve found himself wandering the city. Even at 2 am, the city was still decently alive with people wandering the streets between bars and restaurants open late. Sometimes Steve missed the quiet stillness of nights in Hawkins, where he could walk in the woods with only the stars for company. 

Before he even knew what was happening, Steve found himself standing outside of a familiar boxing gym. It should have been closed for the night, but there was a light on revealing a figure standing before one of the bags, light on his feet as he snapped out with punch after punch against the thing.

A little bell dinged as Steve opened the door, letting loud rock music blast against his ears from the stereo system in the building. 

“Hey, we’re closed h—” the sentence cut off abruptly as Billy noticed who had walked into the room. He sighed, dropping out of his practiced stance and wiping at the sweat gathered on his brow. “What?”

He didn’t know why he was here. There were a million places Steve could have gone tonight and he’d ended up here, standing in front of the man he loved, loves. There had to be a reason for it, some kind of hope left that the universe was reminding him of.

“I fucked up,” Steve admitted quickly before he could change his mind and run out the door again. “I know I did, and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You should’ve,” Billy snapped, busying himself with wiping off with a towel and taking a messy drink of water, some of it slipping down his chin and wetting his shirt. 

“I know,” Steve continued, wincing at the still-closed-off look Billy was giving him. The other man was hurting, he reminded himself. This was a man who had experienced the kind of horrors Steve could never imagine, had pulled himself up and out of literal Hell with nothing but his own hands and the distant promise of a better life. This was a man who had continuously been hurt throughout life and still chose to hand over his trust for Steve to watch over. 

He couldn’t mess this up now.

“I know I lied to you, but Billy, please, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was something silly between Robin and me. If I thought for a second that it would hurt you, I would have told you,” Steve began to explain, allowing the smallest roots of hope to dig deep in his chest when the words made Billy pause his motions. “I love you, Billy. I know I lied and that was really really shitty, but it won’t happen again. It can’t happen again, because knowing I hurt you is destroying me.”

“I just, I’m learning, okay?” Steve could barely breathe, panting a little around his words as he fought to get them out. “I have no idea what I’m doing or even who the hell I am sometimes and I think everything is gonna be a little messy for a while until I can figure that out. But I will, I will figure it out and I want you there with me when I do. You make me so happy, Billy, happier than I could ever imagine being before. I love you, I love you.”

The words seemed to echo around the gym, smacking against every corner and wall until they knocked right back against Steve’s head. Billy still wasn’t talking, wasn’t even moving from where he froze by his water bottle stool. It felt like hours that they stood there, neither saying anything but neither daring to walk away either. Steve wanted to give him time to process, time to think about what was said and what Steve was promising, but eventually, he found himself pleading, “Say something? Anything?”

Billy sighed, which wasn’t perfect but it was progress. He dropped the small hand towel back down on the stool with his water bottle and walked over to where Steve was still standing by the front door. He still wasn’t saying anything, but the moment those blue eyes met Steve’s he gasped, overcome with the relief that Billy could finally look at him again.

“I can’t handle lying,” Billy told him, giving no clues as to where this was going. Steve was along for the ride anyway, blindly running wherever Billy was intending to take him. “Too many people have done it, I can’t.”

Steve could only nod, watching as Billy’s expression morphed into something he couldn’t read. It was too much, too intense to be anything Steve had seen before. 

“When I say I need space, I mean it, Steve. There’s...I don’t want to hurt you. When I’m mad, I need to walk away and come here. It helps me clear my head when everything is too much.”

“Okay, yeah,” Steve agreed, feeling the hope beginning to plant itself deep and blossom as further boundaries were laid out. Boundaries wouldn’t be formed if Billy intended to tear the whole structure down, right? This meant they could stay, could work on everything together? “Space. I can do space.”

“Good,” Billy responded, finally a smile lighting up those features Steve found to be so captivating. “Because I really love you too, Stevie.”

It was like Billy had bottled up that feeling Steve felt at Pride and sprinkled it over them now. Every ounce of belonging, and comfort, of joy and love and pride filled him up now ten times stronger than it had then, threatening to swallow him up in the wave if he didn’t learn to float. He couldn’t help the bright smile that pulled on his lips as Billy asked him to stay. 

The kiss was messy, teeth clacking together awkwardly through their smiles but Steve didn’t care because he had Billy back, stronger than ever now that they’d worked through the worst of it. There would be more fights in the future but Steve was confident he’d know how to handle them now, that both of them would do better than they had before now that they knew they had each other through it all. 

“Come on, you ridiculous hoe!” Robin shouted, cackling at Steve’s shocked expression.

“You’re calling me a hoe now?” Steve laughed at his friend, setting down the next box by the front door. “That’s it, I’m not even gonna miss you.”

“Sure, you’ll be calling me from the car,” Robin returned, and sure, that was probably true. Stebe held out his arms, allowing Robin to cross the room and hug him tightly. “You better call from the car.”

“I will, you know I will,” Steve reassured his friend, blinking away the tears beginning to gather in his eyes. They’d only spent a year and a half in this apartment, but he would miss it dearly despite getting the occasion to visit whenever he wanted. He’d miss making coffee for Robin in the morning and yelling at her for hogging all the hot water in the shower. He’d miss her making dinner on rough work days and her banging her hand on the wall between their bedrooms when his personal dance parties became too loud in the middle of the night.

He’d miss living with his best friend, even though he couldn’t wait for what came next.

“You’re so dramatic,” Heather laughed from where she was packing up the few cups and utensils Steve had contributed. “You’ll see each other at dinner on Friday.”

“But that’s two whole days away!” Steve whined dramatically while Robin pretended to faint from the woe of it all. 

“You’ll be so busy unpacking you won’t even notice,” Billy answered when he came through the front door with another one of Heather’s boxes. “Damn, Heather, how’d you get so much shit?”

“Would it be cocky to say the fame and money?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then the fame. Oh, and the money,” Heather grinned, the two of them hugging each other in the process. “I guess I’ll miss you too. Be good, have fun.”

“Miss you too,” Billy told her, ruffling his friend’s hair just to make her screech. “Don’t have too much fun here, we can’t cook dinner here if you’ve torn the place up.”

“Gross,” Robin and Steve both groaned, the smiles never leaving their faces despite it.

“Are you ready?” Steve asked Billy once all of Heather’s things were brought in. It would be weird to come over on Friday and see Heather living in the space he had once occupied, but it was time. He’s sure the two women would have moved in with each other far sooner had they not been waiting for Steve and Billy to be ready too. At least now they could have as much time spent together as they wanted without having to text either Steve or Billy about a sleepover. 

“Ready as ever, Hawkins,” Billy answered, picking up one of Steve’s boxes to move it into his own apartment above the boxing gym—their apartment, Steve supposed. 

“Then let’s get moving, Malibu. I wanna hit the beach after,” Steve spoke up, pressing a kiss to Billy’s cheek as he passed.

And Billy followed to the tune of Robin and Heather cheering them on all the way out the door of the apartment. 

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[futurewife]

god.. dating apps are the worst, especially for neurodivergent people

i had more luck on reddit than i do tinder

Thanks for the kind words, @hall0ween-twn ❤️❤️ forgive me cause I kind of ending up rambling in response here cause the dating/partner thing is really something that gets me down :'/

They really are. I don't formally have autism or ADHD as far as I know but do recognise that I have some incidental adjacent traits. I guess I'm just quirked up in some similar ways due to other brain things, attachment disorder, cptsd, negative experiences with men etc.

I can't just go out with a stranger 3 times who may not even really like me and let them have sex with me without having some kind of mental break I feel. It could take months for me to build up to feeling safe, and I honestly don't believe what I have to offer is really worth the investment and the waiting and the effort for most guys LIKE not to be all... self effacing about it but it would take someone who REALLY saw something in me cause I'm a bit of a fixer upper and an almost 30 year old kissless virgin. I feel like it would be mad to have gone this long waiting just to end up getting used and re-traumatised somehow. Man am I kinda a lost cause right now compared to my hopes and dreams 😭

I agree, dating apps are really not a substitute for observing people in real life and deepening an initial spark of interest and I'm on dating apps because I don't have irl social groups or places to meet people conveniently really, and I think other people who may be as introverted and socially stunted as I am are also stuck inside somewhere feeling alienated. It's a bit of a catch-22.

So yeah maybe I should try reddit hahaha. I agree, I think the relative anonymity and niche interest boards means you get a more genuine reflection of a person's takes, values and interests without the incentive of trying to pick up women.

Followers on tumblr are people I've never met yet I feel they understand and know me the most, and may sometimes be the only interaction I get in a day. (❤️) And for better or worse I developed self shipping and fantasy escapism as an adaptation to cope early on in life so there's always some kind of comfort to find in that.

[nagisa-shiota-worthy-shit]

Tinder Matches

Karmagisa Week 2021, day 1 prompt: Matching  wordcount: 1600

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The fact that Nagisa had a tinder account wasn’t something he really shared with anyone. At the time, he’d created it as a joke, a way of amusing his friend’s stupid suggestion. According to Kayano, it truly could be the solution to his lack of experience in the love life department. Nagisa hadn’t been too sure about that. He was more than aware of the application’s status and, no, he wasn’t really interested in finding people to just have sex with. 

Yet, somehow, he still found himself swiping through people on the app one night. He was alone in his room, a little bored, and perhaps even a little too tired after a day’s worth of teaching. None of the people he came across really interested him much, although he had to admit that he’d probably give them a shot if he saw them in real life, just because he wanted to believe in the best in people. 

This app, however, gave little to no information on someone’s personality. Then again, some people were very clear about looking for someone rich to provide for them, which Nagisa guessed his teacher’s salary wasn’t exactly right for, and he supposed that also said something about their personality and what they were like in a relationship. Nothing Nagisa really wished to deal with. 

After swiping left on complete strangers in fear of one secretly being a stalker, murderer, or just having horrible table manners, he suddenly stopped when a familiar face popped up on his screen. the red hair, the golden eyes, that all too familiar smirk. Nagisa recognized exactly who he was seeing, yet somehow couldn't exactly process the idea. it just didn't seem entirely right. 

Someone like Karma wouldn't need to use tinder, right? 

He found himself staring at the title picture for a while before he realized he could scroll through and see more. it wasn't like he didn't know what karma looked like... but... he sure was curious about what karma was putting out there. 

It didn't appear to be all that special at first. A selfie in a casual outfit, a picture of him at a bar with people Nagisa didn't recognize, a traveling picture, but the last picture was something else. This picture appeared professionally taken, or at the very least it wasn't a selfie and the picture was set up. Karma was posing in it, after all. Posing in a suit, the jacket in his hand, thrown over his shoulder as he glanced at the camera with those devilish eyes. Nagisa was nothing but taken back by it. 

He shouldn't be staring, should he? This was his close friend and fellow assassin graduate, the staring was just weird. Yet, somehow, he couldn't look away from the picture and thought back to when he’d first met Karma, so many years ago now. He’d felt the same sense of awe back then. Karma was just so perfect, how couldn’t he. This picture, him as an adult looking like a literal model, was like a visual representation of everything Nagisa used to feel Karma was. 

The sudden noise of the train passing near his apartment woke him up from his state. suddenly turning very red, he frantically moved his hands and went to swipe left, except his phone nearly fell out of his hands in the process. He caught it, hands all over the screen and, through his own fingers, he could see Karma being swiped right. 

no. no nonono. please go back

Nagisa fumbled with his phone, hoping to undo his actions, but before he could do anything, a message popped up on the screen. He was surprised by it to say the least. 

‘you've got a match’

A match. He matched. but that meant... Karma had swiped right on him as well?! why would he- probably as a joke. he probably came across nagisa and thought it was funny, right? Nagisa had to assume that was the truth, although deep in his mind a thought echoed around saying the exact opposite. Maybe he wanted it to not be a joke.

After panicking for a hot minute, his phone made a ping sound, indicating he’d gotten a message. He was too scared to look. Somehow, before even opening the message, he could already sense who it was from. Sure enough, once he finally did gather the courage to check the notification, his fears were proven right. This was the worst situation. 

Karma: well well well, didnt take you as the tinder type

He considered ignoring it. What was that called again? Ghosting? Yes, he could ghost Karma. If he didn’t respond to the message, perhaps nothing else unfavourable would be happening. Well, Karma would probably mention it to him the next time they spoke in real life. That would probably be even worse. It wasn’t like he could ignore Karma for the rest of his life. It wasn’t like he wanted to. 

Nagisa: i'm not

Karma: yet here you are.

Karma: swiping right on me ;)

The cockiness almost oozed out of the message. Nagisa was left frowning at his phone. The main thought going through his mind was that Karma was probably enjoying this. He was a sadist like that. He was having fun while Nagisa wanted to bury himself as deep underground as possible. 

Nagisa: you swiped right first! 

Nagisa: mine was an accident

Nagisa: I was surprised to see you on here and my phone dropped

Karma: ah, so you wouldn't swipe right on me :( am I too ugly?

Nagisa felt his face grow hot. He probably shouldn't look at his reflection if he wanted to save himself from the image of his head being a tomato. He didn't think karma was ugly. quite the opposite, actually. Not that he could say that. That would be weird. So, he tried to find some middle ground answer, not calling karma ugly or the opposite of that. 

Nagisa: I never said that, I just didn't intend to swipe right on someone i'm already friends with. 

There, no way that could be taken wrong. He considered sending an additional message, clarifying just how dropping his phone led to the swiping right, but decided against it. It would sound just a little too defensive. 

Karma: well,its nice this gives us a chance to talk again anyways. appears youve been too busy to answrr my texts. 

An awkward laugh escaped Nagisa as he looked away from his phone, forgetting Karma couldn't actually see his reaction. There was no reason to avoid eye contact when there was no eye contact to begin with. Still, he shared the sentiment. He kind of had forgotten to keep contact with people lately. 

He blamed the new workplace. After finishing his days as a trainee, the new school he worked at was surprisingly more demanding. He always knew being a full time teacher was a lot of work, especially now that there was no one to keep an eye on him and remind him of certain teaching specifics of the school he taught at. Of course, the work was rewarding enough for him to barely think about his loss of contacts. He had a habit of treating those too loosely anyways. 

Nagisa: ive just been working

Karma: workaholic

Nagisa: you literally have more work hours than me

Karma: and somehow you still spend as much time working as me. 

The conversation went on like that for a bit, them going back and forth at each other. Overall, it wasn't a bad time. Nagisa kind of forgot about the actual use of the app, and the fact that he could just DM Karma on line whenever he wanted to, until Karma managed to bring back the conversation to it. 

Karma: you know, usually when people match, they try to meet up for a date

Of course Nagisa was aware that that's what the app was for, it was sort of the reason he’d gotten it as well. However, he didn't think anything would lead anywhere for him, let alone with karma. surely karma wasn't being serious. it would be weird to go on a date with your friend. 

and still, Nagisa endulged him, being so stupid as to ask further. 

Nagisa: where do people even go on tinder dates?

Karma: anywhere they want to, usually just for drinks, easy way to lead them home a little tipsy afterwards

Nagisa: okay that sounds creepy

Karma: if that's not your style I could always take you out for dinner. 

Karma: There's this new sushi restaurant near my place, looks like something you'd love. 

somehow, he actually considered it. On any other day, that would sound insane to nagisa. Since when would he consider dating karma? Wait, not dating, going on a date with Karma. There was a difference. Sushi did sound great, and so did Karma's company. He supposed he hadn't really been out like that in a while. date or not. 

Karma: i can even pick you up, very romantic 

The word hit Nagisa a little hard. Romantic. What would that entail? Would they sit opposite of each other, send cute glances, maybe even hold hands beside the table? He wanted his mind to hate the idea of that, doing those things with his friend, ruining the relationship they already had. But, he also wanted to give in, say yes, and see where things would lead. At the very least, he'd have a fun night with good food. 

Nagisa: you have a day in mind?

Karma: how's Saturday?

Nagisa: Saturday's fine

Karma: it's a date!

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[heliads]

Too Cold

Based on this request: “imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?”

masterlist

“It’s going to be cold. Siberia, midwinter, ski resort? It’ll be freezing.” Bucky fixes you with an expecting gaze. You return the stare. “Buck, I’ve been on missions for years. I’ve trained and fought and killed in some of the worst places on the planet. I think I can handle a little snow.” Bucky shrugs. “I hope that’s true, because I’d like to focus on the mission, and being able to laugh at you for being wrong would distract me.”

You toss a glare his way. “You are a horrible friend.” Bucky just grins. “Maybe so.” You roll your eyes, then turn your attention back to the guidebooks and manila file folders strewn across the table in front of you. In less than 24 hours, you and Bucky will embark on a mission to ice-cold Siberia, posing as a pair of newlyweds at a ski resort. Such an elaborate scheme would usually never be a part of the Avengers’ repertoire, but the couple you’re investigating is so wily and tricky that you have no other choice.

The targets in question are a man and a woman, Sara and Henri Antonovich. They were noted members of HYDRA before the organization’s collapse, and their names are frequently listed among the visitors of certain Siberian military bases, especially ones containing Winter Soldiers. There have been rumored sightings of them around the area, and now you have proof that they’ll be staying at this particular resort in the hopes of meeting someone and making a deal. So, you and Bucky must go there as well, to catch them in the act.

The plane ride is uneventful, and you touch down in Siberia without too many worries. Bucky, already prepared to act the part of the dutiful husband, links your hand through his, leaning close as if to whisper a declaration of love. Instead, he tells you that a car is waiting, driven by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who will give you fake IDs and deliver you to your assigned rental cabin. Such is the romantic life of an undercover agent.

By the time you get there, you’re shivering. The car was cold, the journey up the icy walkway was cold, the time spent standing in the freezing winter air whilst you try to find your key was cold, and this cabin, unfortunately, is also cold. You walk through the door, hoping to find some last remnants of heating, but you are sorely disappointed. You walk briskly over to the thermostat, cranking it up and muttering something under your breath about stingy S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who wouldn’t even let you be warm in your own undercover house.

Bucky, noticing your arms wrapped tightly around you, grins. “What happened to your years of experience? Are they not helping you against the cold?” You make a face at his back, but Bucky does not see it and continues checking out some data file disguised as a paperback that he brought with him. 

You purse your lips together. It’s strange- you’ve known Bucky for a while now, long enough to consider him a friend. The two of you have these moments like companionship, just like now, with jokes being exchanged and laughter bubbling out. But then Bucky seems to remember something, and it’s like a switch is flipped. He stays quiet and doesn’t open his mouth for a long time after that. You’re not sure what he’s thinking about, or why he only seems to want to talk to you in small doses, but it still feels like an ever-growing thorn in your side.

Especially since you have the unfortunate habit of crushing on him. Of course you had to fall in love with the one guy who doesn’t feel the need to talk that much with you, but it wasn’t like you had that much of a choice. He just appeared in your life, with his slight smile and broken mind, and he made you feel like you were more than just a gun and a badge, a placard on a S.H.I.E.L.D. desk. He made you feel like a person, and you love him for it.

You walk over to the neat stone fireplace to light some tinder and heat this place up. You’ve never been the best with fires, and Bucky knows this, so he crouches beside you to arrange the kindling and begin the blaze. After what seems like only a couple of seconds, the spark catches and a pleasantly crackling fire appears in the fireplace. Bucky stands back, satisfied, while you hold up your hands to the warm glow, desperately trying to ward away the winter chill.

Bucky glances over at you one last time, then turns and silently disappears from the room. You bite your cheek, pretending it doesn’t hurt you that he already feels the need to leave. If he’s already sick of you after only a couple of minutes, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to come off as a loving couple. Maybe it’ll be easy for you, because you’re not entirely sure that you’ll be faking it, but you don’t know whether or not Bucky could ever look like he was in love with you.

Then he comes out of the room again, holding in his hands a thick wool sweater. He tosses it towards you, and you pick it up, slightly confused. “You look freezing. Might as well try to stay warm, right?” You beam at him, already slipping it on. “You’re the best. None of my sweaters are anywhere near this warm.” You run your hands over the thick weaving, already feeling better.

“Well, don’t thank me quite yet,” he says with a light smile, “because I’m making you go back outside again.” You stare at him, mouth hanging slightly open in outrage. “No, you’re not. I know you’re not.” Bucky grins. “Afraid so. I’ve received word that one of our supplies came in late, so they’ve dropped it off, pretending it’s just the postal service.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to grab your winter coat once again. “You are the meanest friend ever.” Bucky walks over next to you, taking his coat off the rack as well. “Husband. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember?” How could you not? You give him a sideways glance. “If we’re undercover, I feel like you shouldn’t keep bringing it up all the time.” Bucky, hiding his metal hand underneath a pair of thick winter gloves, just grins.

It is still freezing cold outside. Maybe even worse, if that’s possible. Yet you still walk down the snow-encrusted path to the brown-wrapped package waiting for the two of you, just because you and Bucky are loyal Avengers who have to get your stupid gear even though it’s going to give you both frostbite. On the walk back, though, you’re treated to something you didn’t expect at all. The neighbours are coming out of their cabin. What’s more, they just happen to be Sara and Henri Antonovich. The couple you two were sent here to investigate.

You can feel Bucky tensing just slightly beside you at the sight of them. So he’s noticed them too. They have also seen you by now, and you wait, heart pounding in your chest, to see if there’s some chance they’ll recognize you and know that they’ve been found out. Sara turns, sees you, starts walking over. This is it.

She smiles and holds out a hand. “My name is Sara, and this is my husband, Henri. Are you two also here for the skiing?” You plaster on a smile, shaking her hand. “Yes, we’d heard about all the good snow and wanted to see it for ourselves. I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, James.” Bucky smiles at her, and shakes hands with Henri. He’s careful not to use his metal arm lest he give everything away.

You stumble slightly in the snow, but Bucky’s already reached out and steadied you, arm wrapping around your waist. You glance up at him, mouthing a silent thank-you. Sara grins. “Well, aren’t you two the sweetest! Did you get married recently?” You turn back to her, ready to let out every last detail of the lie S.H.I.E.L.D. cooked up for you. “Yes, we did. I met James at work. I know you’re not supposed to date your coworkers and everything, but he was so kind that I just couldn’t help it. I never wanted to leave his side, and we’ve been together ever since. This was supposed to be our anniversary vacation.”

Sara beams. “That’s so wonderful! Well, it was nice to meet you. See you later at the mountains.” She waves goodbye, and the two of them head off to an awaiting car. You and Bucky traipse back inside your cabin, and the second the door closes behind you, you fix Bucky with a disbelieving stare. “Did that really just happen?” Bucky nods, jaw clenched. “That was definitely the Antonovichs. I think we’ve got our guys. It’s time to call in the reinforcements.”

Bucky can’t believe it. How is this mission almost over- it barely started! All he and Y/N were supposed to do was track down Sara and Henri. He had assumed that it would take several days, yet somehow S.H.I.E.L.D. had a stroke of luck and managed to book them a cabin right next door to the very pair they were searching for. Sara and Henri are surprisingly good at staying hidden, too- if Bucky hadn’t recognized their faces from the countless data sets and case files, he would have assumed that they were nothing but well-intentioned neighbours.

His eyes flicker towards Y/N, who’s currently standing in front of the fire to keep warm. He smiles in spite of himself when he sees that she’s still wearing his sweater. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested that the two of them go on this mission together- he can barely handle himself. He doesn’t know why he had to fall in love with the one girl who makes his mind freeze up and all his thoughts scatter to the wind, but it’s not like he had much of a choice. She’s just so amazing, so perfect- he can hardly think straight around her.

She, on the other hand, appears to be perfectly fine. His mind flashes back to that conversation with the Antonovichs, when she had told Sara all about their little ‘love story’. It almost hurt, in a way, to see how she was so believable when she said she loved him. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would almost think it was true. But it isn’t, of course. She’s just exceptionally good at pretending, and that’s all he’ll ever be to her, just another prop in a story. It would be better if he could remember that, but his heart still skips a beat when she turns back to him with a smile and an outstretched hand, gesturing for him to join her at the fire.

Once the appropriate calls to S.H.I.E.L.D. are placed and you know that the reinforcements are beginning their journey here, you allow yourself to relax and drift over to the fire once more. Bucky, like always, is hesitating on the fringes of the room, but you notice something different in his gaze this time. Maybe it’s just your hopeless heart deluding itself once again, but you almost think that he’s not avoiding you because he doesn’t like you, but for an altogether different reason. Maybe it’s because he likes you too much, and he’s just too afraid to lose you.

So you hold out a hand to him, and after a heartbeat, he joins you. He wraps his arm loosely around you, tilting his head to lean against yours and soak up the warm light of the fire. He speaks softly, his voice muffled as he presses his face gently against the top of your head. “Can’t believe our ski vacation is already over. It feels like we just got here.”

You nod in agreement. “Just when this cabin was starting to feel like home. Well, I guess there will always be more missions in the future. I suppose we just need to plan them out and make sure we get the best ones. You know, the ones where our targets are living next door so all we have to do is have a good time in the mountains.” Bucky chuckles softly. “If it’s all the same to you I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly. “Another mission?” He shakes his head. “Another time alone. Like this, just the two of us.” When you don’t reply immediately, his gaze starts to close off, like he’s panicked that he opened up too far. What he doesn’t know is that your mind is spinning, trying to figure out what he means and if he loves you and how much you would love to spend another weekend or even a day with him. Then you beam up at him, and he relaxes again. “I would love that, Buck.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you used his nickname, or the warmth of the fire making everything seem far more comforting than usual, but Bucky finds the courage to lean down and kiss her. She smiles against his lips, and his hand creeps up to the back of her neck. When he finally breaks away, she looks positively radiant, so he kisses her again. The mission may be ending soon, and they may have to return to ordinary life, but at least in his moment, he has her at last.

[randomficsandshit]

Jily Fic Rec Masterlist

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author you love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what I can do, this is a pretty old list

A Wizard Walks Into A Bar Word Count: 5k+ 

Contrary to popular belief, it's not always the man who does all the chasing.

Pepper Up, Peppermint Word Count: 3k+

Sixth year Lily is home, sick, at Christmas. Can a visit from her friends cheer her up?

Your Eyes Are Like Starlight Now Word Count: 1k+ “The first snow is magical, you can’t deny it,” and Lily grumbled, but she did have to agree. It was beautiful. Of course, that moment lasted exactly thirty seconds before James squashed a snowball into her face.

Sing A Reckless Serenade 

Word Count: 7k+

After an almost minute of silence, she finally relents, “I need you guys to help me with a work thing.” A hefty pause. And then- “What kind of work thing?” James asks, warily. Lily takes a breath. It seemed like a brilliant idea last night, when she was more than three drinks under, but now in the light of day it just seems… pathetic. Still though, she needs help, and needs it soon, so she finds herself blurting out: “I need you to fake date me for a week.”

Three Swipes, You're Out

Word Count: 4k+

Part 1 of Shiver Me Tinders series

Sports star James Potter tries to pick Lily up on tinder. Lily Evans, a dedicated not sports fan is offended by the idea that someone thinks she wouldn't recognize James Potter's face. She laughs about it with her friends at a bar, until James Potter, who also frequents that bar, comes over to clarify that nope, he's on tinder, and he's definitely hitting on her.

Making Spirits Bright

Word Count: 2k+ 

Part 2 (final part) of Shiver Me Tinders series 

She should have expected it to be hard, dating a celebrity, but somehow she and James make it work.

Air For Free

Word Count: 2k+

When you’re in the company of James Potter you almost forget about the world around you.

What Are You Doing On Christmas Eve?

Word Count: 13k+

"I kinda told them all I was already seeing someone." "Kinda?" Lily eyed him deceptively, "Who?" "You." Christmas, Fake Dating 

Rekindling 

Word Count: 7k+

He passes her the cardboard box and their fingers brush again only this time Lily doesn't pull away so quickly. This time Lily lingers, if only to be thrown back into another time when James was her everything. If he was willing, she'd let him be her everything again.

Isn’t It Obvious?

Word Count: 7k+

Rewrite of The Prince’s Tale except it’s James Potter 

Meet The Potter’s

Word Count: 8k+

"we're having a water fight but your white shirt is see through now and I'm distracted? oops?"

Early Morning Toast Brigade 

Word Count: 2k+

"Is that toast?" she said, catching sight of a plate of the stuff that sat on the floor, next to James's invisibility cloak, the wonders of which she had been introduced to the summer previous. "Nah," he replied. "It's regular bread, with a suntan." "What?" "A suntan," James repeated. "It's highly unlikely that you've ever experienced one first hand, being ginger and all, so I won't blame you if you don't know what it is." "Shut up. Where'd you get it?" "Oh, my skin is naturally sallow." "I'm talking about the toast, idiot." "Won it off Dumbledore in a duel." "James!"

Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Word Count: 8k+

There are those who claim that Lily Evans couldn't possibly love James Potter as much as he loves her - including, on occasion, James Potter himself - but they couldn't be more wrong if they claimed that the moon was made of cheese.

Mother Deer

Word Count: 7k+

Euphemia Potter is the unequivocal boss of everyone, including and most especially her son, and if the sweet, bright-eyed redhead who frequents her coffee shop doesn't know that yet, she's about to find out.

Hijacking

Word Count: 3k+

She isn't certain how it started, why it continues, or where her moral decency has gone, but sometime around February, James and Lily start hijacking each other's rounds in order to sneak off and shag in entirely inappropriate Hogwarts locales.

Elevator Love Song

Word Count: 15k+

James unexpectedly finds himself trapped in a dodgy apartment elevator with Lily Evans.

Try, Trial, and Try Again

Word Count: 6k+

Spell engineering has never been so complicated than when an afternoon of trying and trialing leaves James and Lily in an interesting position.

Questions And Answers

Word Count: 5k+

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

*Sunshine In My Eyes

Word Count: 93k+

Mr. and Mrs. Evans are killed when Lily's only a girl, and she's supposed to go to a home with her sister. Instead, a relative they didn't know they had comes to collect them, and introduces Lily to manners, magic, and a life that's just the slightest bit different from the life she was supposed to live. Or, an AU in which Minerva McGonagall raises Lily.

Key Limes

Word Count: 23k+

In which Academy Award winner Lily Evans discovers the periphery of internet fandom and the mysteries of Prince James’s gold star system.

Red Velvet Ribbon

Word Count: 7k+

Lily sighed and ran an agitated hand through her hair, all the while glancing up at the mistletoe in the doorway. Those spindly branches and little green leaves, all bundled up in a red velvet ribbon, so falsely innocent and romantically devious… Lily felt that old James Potter tingle shoot up her spine and – as custom would dictate – she couldn't shake it off. God damn Christmas.

Wishing You All A Good Evening

Word Count: 46k+

Despite his popularity on campus, James Potter has had a hard time getting the attention of one, Lily Evans. Lily's not impressed by him and his arrogance, but James is quite impressed with everything Lily does. After the blunder that was their first meeting, James is determined to change her mind and she's determined not to let him. College!AU

Meeting The Marauders

Word Count: 49k+

Or how Mr Evans was forced to spend Christmas with four raving lunatics, had his life turned upside down and was forced to make his precious daughter go on a date. (mostly like this one because I think it was clever doing the POV of Lily’s dad)

Another Damn Grocery Store Fic, Okay?

Word Count: 9k+

Lily runs her father's grocery store and the guy she remembers from her childhood moves back into town. Thanks to petals for the brilliant prompt -- "grocery store AU where Lily works the counter and he keeps buying things just to talk to her"

I Can’t Read Your Mind (Though I’m Trying All The Time) 

Word Count: 40k+

The one where Lily is just trying to be a good friend by offering to be James's fake girlfriend for a weekend at the Potter Family Extravaganza. Really. Only, James just so happens to be in love with her, so this can't be any good for his health, and Lily is oblivious to the fact that this might not be so platonic for her, either.

Fate, Automobiles & Other Disasters

Word Count: 15k+

Lily is quite content owning her little flower shop and feuding with next door neighbor Sirius Black and his errant parking skills, until his best mate, Oscar-winning actor James Potter, moves in.

The Incident In The Library

Word Count: 3k+

Lily Evans has been distracted lately…and it’s all because of James Potter and his stupid, unbuttoned shirt. Hardly any fluff, but plenty of shirtless James for everybody.

I Think It’s About Old Friends

Word Count: 7k+

James and Lily, and seven years of Christmas.

Petalpocalypse

Word Count: 20k+

What do you get when you combine two classroom enemies, only one chemistry book, the blizzard of the decade, and drinking games? The tropiest Jily fic of all time!

I Love You (ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?)

Word Count: 21k+

He didn’t picture Lily wandering alone, he never imagined the dullness that seemed to overcome her usually vivacious eyes, never fantasized about the way she looked at him straight on and asked, “Want to do something stupid?”

He, apparently, was something stupid.

(Summer before seventh year, failed friends with benefits).

Quidditch Club

Word Count: 14k+

The first rule of Quidditch Club is 'no falling for a student's mum'. Jily AU. Single Mum AU. Smut if you squint.

[jpegjade]

The Blind Date - Spencer

Request: I'd love one where the reader has dated around with no success (terrible tindr dates, disappointing connections through work, etc). Somehow her and Spence cross ways and go out. He treats her really well and looks at her like she's his world. Shes been dying to have a good man look at her like she's precious and melts at it 🥰

hey hi hello! im working though my requests lists faster than i thought lmao. i do have some ideas that i’ll work through but if you have an idea, my asks are still open. 

Warnings: if you hate dad!spencer, then you will hate part of this. But this is fluffy tbh. 

“Hey babe, look what I found!” You said, flipping through a stack of polaroids hidden away in another pointless stack of papers and other items. 

It was time to clean out the attic since all those dusty boxes were really filling up the space. It had been your dream to build a cave up there just for yourself, away from both your husband and your three kids. 

Spencer climbed up the stairs, squinting to see where you were as his eyes adjusted to the terrible lighting.

 “What did you find? Aside from Asbestos and lung disease… Are you sure you want to build something in here? I can’t imagine it being comfortable considering the way the house is made. There’s nothing to cool you down in the summer months and who knows how winter will fare here.” Spencer looked deeply concerned. 

“Spence, honey, would you come and look at this?” You held up the first ever picture you took of him, your first date written on the back of it in metallic sharpie with the words “I really like him…” in your handwriting. 

“‘I really like him?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asked, bending over to look over your shoulder at the photo. In the photo, Spencer was giving the most awkward smile, one hand in the air in a semi-wave motion. He looked like his mom asked him for a photo and he was just doing it to make her happy. 

“I wrote this on our first date… I wasn’t even sure about going on the date before that night…” 

**10 years ago**

“Just one date.” JJ said. “You don’t have to love him but I know you’ll like him.” 

Your friend was insistent that she could set you up on the perfect blind date but you weren’t convinced. You went on so many different Bumble dates, had Tinder hook-ups, and even accepted John from marketing’s proposition to take you on a date last week. It ended in you faking food poisoning and having JJ pick you up from the restaurant because you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t want to hear about his mom’s weird growth that she needed to get checked out. He was supposed to be showing you pictures when you got back to the table but you knew that was going to definitely give you food poisoning. 

“JJ, if this goes south, I’m just going to swear off dating for a while.” You said, agreeing over the phone. 

“Great. He’ll pick you up at 5 pm for dinner and a horror movie tonight.” JJ said, hanging up before you could protest. 

A horror movie for a first date? What did she expect from you? You knew this wasn’t going to go well but you promised her that you would try. 

He was 15 minutes late. He kept you waiting for 15 minutes and for what? He better have a good explanation. In a huff, you swung your front door open to see if his car was even outside and you came face to face with a messy haired brunette with his arm raised to knock. 

“Hi.” He said, arm still frozen in the air. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“What kind of medical doctor shows up late to a first date?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Well, you see, I’m not that kind of doctor but that’s a common assumption. I have three Ph.Ds so you can say I’m more of a specialist in scholarly knowledge and I get to put it into practice with my job as a profiler at the FBI, which is how I got here. Not being in the FBI, per say, but being in the FBI with JJ. As to why I’m late, I was given information that I blindly followed from this other agent, Derek Morgan, which I probably should not have followed.” 

You noticed that Dr. Spencer Reid hadn’t taken a single breath until now. 

“Was that advice to piss me off before you even met me, Doctor not a doctor?” You said, still annoyed. 

You knew JJ had talked about Spencer before when you guys met for breakfast or girls’ night out. You didn’t think about what he looked like until now, though. He was pretty but not so pretty that he knew it. It was more like an understated thing. 

“He said that pissing you off in the beginning would give me a better chance of being able to woo you with my charm and charisma, to quote him exactly. I now realize the flaw in my thinking was that he would be correct and misunderstanding that he was kidding because JJ didn’t tell me you would be so beautiful and while I have a genius IQ, I’ve been told that I lack the social skills needed to accurately assess a situation where I have a beautiful woman staring at me like you want to punch me but also intrigued at the sight of me.” Spencer stopped and realized he still had his arm in the air and dropped it by his side. 

You stared at him quietly. You weren’t sure what to make of him but you did know that you were getting hungry. Your stomach growled loudly. 

“You’re a talker.” You said. “I appreciate that.” 

You turned to lock up the front door before dropping your keys in your bag. Walking to the car, he opened the door for you before you could put your arm out. You looked over at him, stunned. Other guys you “dated” didn’t do anything like that. Yeah, it was a simple thing but it was something that mattered at least a little bit to you.

“Wait.” You said, pulling a small Polaroid camera out of your bag. “Smile for the camera.” 

Spencer smiled, showing all of his teeth, and raised his hand in a wave. You hoped to god that wasn’t his real smile as you snapped the picture. The polaroid came out nicely, his face well lit, and you noticed that in the light, his purple shirt looked nice with the black skinny tie and black pants. 

“I like him” You wrote on the back of the polaroid in metallic marker before getting in the car.

The rest of the night was a breeze. Dinner was filled with intelligent conversation and responses beyond what any of your Tinder “Dates” could comprehend. He ordered the nicest wine on the menu and you nearly choked on your water. So he had money, check. That meant he wasn’t attempting to live off his friends’ couches like the last guy you went on a date with. He let you order whatever you wanted and didn’t care about how much or how little you ate. He didn’t make snide comments about how you should “slow down on the wine.” He didn’t want to make you run out of the building. He made you want more. Of him, of the night, of him. Oh and him. 

The movie was filled with jumpscares and things that were generally uncomfortable to watch but Spencer remained unphased. In fact, he nervously slipped his hand into yours about 20 minutes into the movie and you stayed like that the whole time. When you got particularly scared, he would talk to you in your ear and tell you about the inaccuracies of what was happening, straightening out the facts. As if any of the movie was logical, he kept talking to you like everything could make sense, and it calmed you down. You even found yourself leaning into him by the end of the night. 

When he took you home, that was a bittersweet ending to something you hoped would blossom. 

“Do you...” You started. 

“Can I...” He said at the same time. 

Mumbling a chorus of “you first,” you paused long enough for him to say it. 

“I enjoyed spending time with you tonight. When JJ said it was a blind date with her friend, I didn’t think I would enjoy it as much as I did. I don’t have the best luck with people so I thought I might mess this up too. I can only hope you had as much fun as I had...” He trailed off. 

“I did.” You said a little too quickly. “I mean... I enjoyed your company tonight.” 

There was a weird pause and you waited for him to do it but he kept staring at you. You had to do it, you decided. So you did. You kissed him. And at first he was tentative but then he really got into it. 

“Okay, wow.” You said, finally breaking away. “Do you want to come in? I don’t really want this to end...” You said. 

“Yes.” 

****** 

Spencer was sitting on the floor next to you as you recounted your thoughts on that night to him. Sure, he remembered it but he didn’t remember it like you remembered it and that was what kept him intrigued. 

“Y/n,” Spencer said, looking over at you. “I was 15 minutes late because I was standing at the door practicing my opening line.” 

You looked back at him and you knew the look he was giving you, the one he had given you every time you saw him since that first night. He was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered. 

“What had you planned to say?” You asked, completely curious. 

“Baby, are you on fire? Because you’ve got me all hot.” He said, looking down at his hand, which you suddenly noticed was holding yours. You were so caught up in telling the story that you didn’t realize what was happening around you. 

You burst out laughing. “Spencer, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

He smiled and looked up at you through his glasses. When your laughter finally died down, you were able to concentrate on him again. He was staring at you in that weird way again. Ever since your first date, he always gave you that look. 

“What?” You said, still smiling. 

“Nothing in particular.” He said, looking over at the staircase. Your 7-year-old was climbing up the stairs. 

“Mommy? Daddy? What’s going on? Did daddy tell a funny joke?” She asked, walking over to sit in her father’s lap. 

You looked over at them as she got comfortable. He kissed the top of her head and went back to staring at you. 

“Yes but it’s a joke you won’t get until you’re much older. And one you won’t hear until you’re much older, if ever.” You said poking her belly. 

“Hey, why don’t we go fix lunch?” Spencer said, putting your daughter back on her feet and standing up. 

“That sounds good.” You said, thinking about how hungry you were. 

Standing up, Spencer stopped you for a second while your daughter climbed down. 

“Can we come back up here once the kids are asleep and go through more of those photos? I remember each one you’ve taken of me but I want to know why. You never explain, even now.” He pulled you into a tight hug. 

“Sure. I have enough stories to fill hours of dates.” 

“You know I loved you since that first photo, right?” He said, kissing your cheek. 

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about your version of some of the dates one day.”

_____________

Okay we had a flashback sequence for this one. i tried to keep it simple so there wasn’t a lot of flashing back and forth. I wanted to make that as long as possible bc idk if anyone wants more, honestly. 

ANYWAY HELLO im so sorry for my longass one-shots

Tags: 

@winchestertardis

@ancailinaerach

[threeletterslife]

Change of Plans

→ summary: So how did you and Seokjin meet? Now that the two of you are engaged, you’re ready to tell your friends the night you were supposed to get laid but didn’t. And it’s all your fiancé’s fault.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | college!au & est. relationship!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of hooking up, crude humor, tinder lmao

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: guys when i was editing this i laughed at my own fucking jokes ohmygod 🤡🤡

cr.

"So," Jungkook snorts, swinging his arm around Seokjin's shoulder as he looks at the happy couple curiously. "You're getting married."

"Hell, yes!" you say, pumping your fist. "Look at my ring."

Everyone around you groans.

"Y/N, we looked at your ring so many times, I think if someone told me to resculpt it blindfolded, I could," Yoongi sighs. He half annoyedly half defeatedly grabs a can of beer and downs it.

"Shut up, Yoongi," Daehyung says. "Y/N, your ring is beautiful," she gushes. "Yoongi's just jealous because he's single."

"It's beautiful because I helped Seokjin pick it out," Yoongi argues. "Even though I'm single, I have excellent taste."

"You also have a cocky attitude," you giggle, admiring how the sparkling ring fits perfectly around your ring finger. "But thank you. I appreciate the advice you gave my fiancé."

"Can you believe a year ago, I didn't even know your name?" Seokjin laughs, nudging you. Giving him an ungrateful glare, you push him back.

"Wait, really?" Jungkook says, eyes wide. "I thought you guys were college besties."

"No, they met on a hookup app," Daehyung giggles.

"Seriously??" Yoongi says.

"It wasn't exactly a hookup app," you pout. "We didn't even hookup."

"It was too a hookup app," Daehyung says. "Tinder, to be exact."

Everyone except you and Seokjin gasps dramatically.

"Come to think of it," Yoongi says, "you two never told us how you met."

"Yeah, and if we tell you, you're going to embarrass the shit out of me and my future wife when you give the best man speech at the wedding," Seokjin frowns. "I'm not setting myself up for humiliation."

"I promise I'll keep it a secret!"

"Hey, I thought I was the best man!" Jungkook yells.

"You can be the flower girl," you snort.

"What?!" the young bachelor shrieks.

"Can everybody shut the fuck up so I can hear this story again?" Daehyung yells at the top of her lungs.

"Again??" Seokjin says curiously. "When did you hear it the first time?"

"Oh, Y/N was drunk," Daehyung giggles. "When she's drunk, she spills straight up tea."

"Oops," you say when your fiancé gives you a dirty look. "Why do we have to keep it a secret, anyway?"

"Because it's embarrassing."

"Yeah, embarrassing for you. I sound like a hero."

"Y/N saves the day?" Yoongi grins. "And Seokjin wrecks something? What's new?"

"I'm this close to making you the flower girl," the engaged man threatens.

Yoongi shuts up.

"Oh, come on, babe, let's tell them the story," you plead. "It's so funny!"

"Yeah, for you."

"Learn to laugh at yourself, Seokjin," Daehyung chastises. "Plus it wasn't even that humiliating."

"God!" Jin shrieks. "Yes it was humiliating!"

"Shut up, you big baby," you say, patting the head of your soon-to-be-husband. "I'll take the floor now."

"Oh, god," Jin groans.

You grin in response. "Okay, it all started senior year of college... Monday... November 14th, 8:02 p.m..."

"It did not start then," Seokjin argues.

"Stop being so petty," Jungkook snorts.

"Wait, no Jin's right. It didn't start then," you giggle apologetically. Seokjin facepalms. "It started a week and a few days before November 14th."

"Does the date really matter?" Yoongi groans.

"Yes," you, Seokjin, Jungkook and Daehyung chorus.

Yoongi shuts up—for the second time that day.

"Okay, where was I?" you mumble. "Oh, right! It all started..."

Tinder is an annoying bitch.

It keeps pairing you up with dudes you know in your class. You are not going to have a one night stand with a guy and be stuck in a group project with him the next day. You're going to avoid that awkward possibility for as much as you can.

You've used the "dating" app off and on in your college years, but it's never amounted to anything more than craptastic hookups and hectic morning afters. So you deleted it.

Until early November when you had to third wheel Daehyung and her boyfriend to a local fair. You were so bored and desperate that you re-downloaded Tinder and started swiping. There are way too many hot guys on one app. It makes you start to wonder where all the hot guys in your school are.

There are a few guys who match with you, but it's clear that they are massive dodo brains when they start off the conversation with a one-worded 'hi' or 'send nudes plz' or the worst: 'your beautiful.' With the wrong 'your' and all. You don't even answer them.

But one guy's messages catch your eyes.

[SEOKJIN]: Roses are red

[SEOKJIN]: Let's test my luck

[SEOKJIN]: We should get in bed

[SEOKJIN]: So we can—

The unfinished poem leaves you almost choking on your own spit. If that wasn't creative, you don't know what is. After background checking his profile, you realize he's one of those hotties. You wonder what on earth he's doing texting you, but you're not going to miss this amazing chance.

[Y/N]: Fuck?

Seokjin replies about three seconds later.

[SEOKJIN]: Oh no that's so vulgar

[SEOKJIN]: I was going to say cuddle :((

You giggle. Sort of a low-grade joke, but what can you say? You're a complete sucker for those.

It's hard to find men these days who are perfect texters. Most men are dry, sending in one-word answers and letting emojis talk for them. Other men write way too much. Seokjin is right in the middle. Already, he has your attention. (Especially because you like his humor.)

The two of you text back and forth until you're back home in your bed. You would've texted him more but it was 3:04 a.m. and you had class the next day.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Seokjin, a complete stranger, mind you, tells you, 'goodnight. sweet dreams.'

What follows is a week's worth of texting. You've been swiping and texting other guys on the side, but if Seokjin's available, you ditch everyone else.

You learn that Jin's a history major and he despises STEM with all of his guts. You let him go on a ten-minute rant on why math should die all because it's adorable how he has so much supporting evidence for his argument. Seokjin had to backtrack and apologize when he learned that you majored in physics, though, which was hilarious. You could feel him blushing via text.

The more you text Seokjin, the more you want to meet him in person. Also, his Tinder bio promises mind-blowing sex, so you're down for that too.

On a fateful day, you finally somehow schedule a meeting with the hot man. Monday, November 14th at 8 p.m. You're to meet at Seokjin's little apartment (which seemed to be in a safe neighborhood). You have fun picking your lingerie with Daehyung. (You kept saying Seokjin would be the type to like pink and lace, but Daehyung argued that he'd like scarlet red and leather. But you kicked her out of your room and chose the pink lace lingerie set anyway.)

It was an understatement to say you were excited about this. You were elated, insanely thrilled. Not only did you find a hookup partner, but also you found a man you could potentially see yourself dating.

Daehyung keeps telling you not to get your hopes too high because in her words, "You've never even met the goddamn dude." But you know a gem when you see one. Unlike Daehyung. She's been off and on with about four different guys since the beginning of college. What does she know about love??

In the end, you want to be more than hookup material to Seokjin. But of course, that would be after you get laid tonight. The flirty wink faces and jokes were indicative that tonight would be a very, very enjoyable night. You just have to get to his apartment on time.

At precisely 8:02 p.m., you knock on his door. Okay, you were going to knock on his door when you originally got there (at 7:56 p.m.), but after consulting Daehyung, she said that it's better to make men wait. For once, her advice kind of makes sense. So you wait six minutes and then knock on his door.

"Oh shit!" you hear from the apartment.

You raise your eyebrows. He was expecting you, right?

"Just a second!!"

His voice is much smoother and more delicate than you thought.

You're dreaming about finally seeing his beautiful face in person when the door opens. Damn. He's really, really hot. You feel on fire just looking at him. But you quickly see that the man is panting. He's also sweating.

"O-Oh, is this a bad time?"

"Fuck," Seokjin curses. He runs his finger through his silky black hair. "Uh..." He trails off, eyes darting below to see just a sliver of your pink lace lingerie set peeking out from under your black coat. He gulps. You can see his Adam's apple bob. He exudes this warm, chaotic energy you wouldn't have expected from someone who looks so well-put-together as him. But you kind of find that hot.

"Okay, change of plans," Seokjin finally gasps out. He tugs you in his apartment and holds out a good stack of papers. "College happened."

You laugh. "What??"

"Okay, remember when I told you I fucking hate math?"

"Yes??" The ten-minute rant—how could you forget something so iconic?

"Well, I made a huge mistake of taking accounting this year and now I'm behind on five assignments that are all due tomorrow—"

"Oh god."

"Don't worry. I'm going to get it all done. So we can uh..." Seokjin glances at your scandalous outfit behind the confines of your coat. "Finish the rest of my poem."

"In that case..." You roll up your long sleeves. "Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?"

"Y-Yeah," Seokjin says. He dashes away and after a split second, he comes back with a navy, oversized t-shirt. "Here."

"Thank you!" you chirp. "Now," you say, tying your hair up in a messy bun and gesturing toward the heap of paper Seokjin is holding, "I took accounting two years ago, but I'm sure I remember all the essential stuff. Wanna get to work?"

Seokjin looks at you like you're an angel.

"Shut up!" Jungkook laughs so hard he almost falls over. "You're telling me that you were going to get laid, but you got cockblocked by Seokjin's procrastination??"

"Yes! I know!" you snort. "But it's a good thing I can actually do math. Unlike Mr. I-hate-math-so-much-I-barely-do-my-homework, here."

"In my defense..." Seokjin trails off. "I don't have an excuse, actually."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Did you finish the assignments, though?"

"Why are you guys asking the irrelevant questions?" Daehyung sighs. "Shouldn't you guys ask if Y/N got laid like she was supposed to??"

Seokjin grumbles. "We finished the assignments in three hours."

"We??" you say incredulously.

"Okay, fine. Y/N did more than half of it because I had no idea what was going on."

"And I did get laid!" You pump a victorious fist in the air. "But it was really late and I fell asleep before we even got to the good part."

"So she got properly laid in the morning," Seokjin snickers. "And it was so good she left after having breakfast."

"I think I fell for him because he can cook so well," you laugh. "And he felt extra bad about the night before so he made a three-course breakfast meal."

"Oh my god, men who finesse in the kitchen," Daehyung gushes. "Why haven't I caught a case like that yet?"

"Your personality is your birth control, bro," Jungkook snorts. "I thought you knew."

"I will shove a pregnancy test up your fucking ass," Daehyung threatens.

"How do you know I won't like how that feels?"

"SHUT UP!" Yoongi screams. "DON'T PAINT THAT PICTURE IN MY HEAD."

You and Seokjin give each other another look. Ever since you introduced Daehyung to Seokjin's two best friends, it's been... uh, chaotic. At this point, you're not sure if your friends argue out of pure love or pure hatred.

But the fact that Jungkook uses the same flirting tactics of a pre-teen boy explains a lot about his relationship with Daehyung.

"At this rate, do you even want these people at the wedding?" Seokjin whispers jokingly.

"I heard that!" Daehyung shrieks. "I will be at the wedding whether you want it or not!"

"Don't worry," you laugh. "You're going to be my maid of honor!"

"Whew," Daehyung sighs. "Since I'm your maid of honor can I uninvite Jeon Jungkook for being an asshole?"

"Hey!"

"No, we're putting you two in the same table at the afterparty dinner," Seokjin grins. "And Yoongi, you'll be there to witness the madness."

"Lovely," the sarcastic man gripes.

"Exactly!" you say.

But it is lovely indeed.

You never thought your ability to zoom past accounting assignments would ever come to use. Until Seokjin opened up a whole new door for you. Sure, you wanted a plain ol' hookup, but instead of getting dick, you got yourself a boyfriend. And now a fiancé.

If you think about it, now you have an endless supply of dick—all from the same, magnificent man. So it all worked out in the end.

Before all of your friends leave after the friendly gathering, you tug Yoongi to the side and pay him a hundred bucks to retell the hilarious story in his best man speech. Once money is involved, Yoongi will do anything.

Sure enough, on the faithful day of the wedding, and quite to Seokjin's horror, Yoongi tells the story of how you and Seokjin had first met—leaving out explicit details to save the ears of the older guests. But the story leaves everyone in tears of laughter.

Seokjin is so enamored by the attention that he doesn't even get angry at Yoongi.

"I'm glad I took that stupid accounting class!" he announces at the afterparty. "If it hadn't been for Professor Le Chory and his endless assignments, I would've never met my wife!"

And when the party's over and the two of you go off to your shared apartment to rest before going on your honeymoon trip to Yeousu, Seokjin clears his throat.

"Yes??" you say, giggling as Seokjin shyly fidgets with his hands. "Did you break something again?"

"No!" he says. "I just thought of another poem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. But if this keeps up, you'll become a poet, Jin."

"I know," your husband grins. He takes a deep breath and recites the poem from memory, closing his eyes as he concentrates on each word.

Roses are red,

You are now my wife,

We should sleep in bed,

So tomorrow, and until forever, I'll show you the time of your life.

With Seokjin, life is spontaneous. But you don't really mind. Living in the moment and changing your plans as they go isn't too bad.

Especially when you wake up the next morning and Seokjin announces instead of Yeousu, the two of you will embark on a journey to Jeju instead.

Perfect. You've always wanted to visit Jeju Island.

masterlist

[acatfishconfession]

Chapter 1: Who am I?

If someone - anyone, had bothered to ask me (other than my elementary school teachers) where I could see myself at age twenty-nine, pushing thirty. It sure as fuck wouldn’t be here.

“Where is ‘here’, exactly?”   Here, is sitting in a broke down computer chair. Listening to sad instrumentals on YouTube auto-play while I sip my Dunkin refresher, binge eat munchkin donut holes and cry over my laptop keyboard.

I wish I could say that was the worst of it. Truly,  I do. But the real depth of it - the most heinous and offensive thing of all that I am doing right now is why I am here and writing this with my D.D. and emotional bullshit.  

Most of my time is currently occupied flipping between five fake Instagram accounts, three fake Facebooks, two fake Twitter accounts, a fake Tinder, a fake Bumble, and my three personal accounts on social media where I’ve already lined up my next potential ‘mask’. Which is what I like to call the unwitting victims of image theft.

That’s right, world. 

I am an online catfish.

Hate me. Hate me as much as I do.

I keep hoping that maybe if I feel enough of it - it will somehow trick the overly sensitive, non-confrontational, and social anxiety-riddled side of me into once and for all stopping this madness. Or at least making me feel guilty enough to just want this be over - in whatever way this sort of insanity can end once and for all.

I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit considering the two ways it most likely will. As well as the one that I don’t dare to even mention because it’s as foolish and more unlikely than any other.

The two main ways it will likely end are death or prison. The likelihood of death being by my own hand though, is slim. Not impossible, but most definitely unlikely. Purely for the fact that I am without doubt, the biggest pussy I know. Hell, most of my tattoos were just a means to try and impress friends. Which sucks even more now because I hate damn near all of the friends I wanted and equally the tattoos that I have. 

Still not sure if it’s because I hate the tattoo artist that did them or just their artwork in general. Either way, there it is. I’m a pussy. If you were concerned for a moment that I might kill myself and by partisan obligate you to contact someone for help - you can relax now. 

No. If I die it will most likely be homicide via crime of passion. I am fully aware that I may inevitably piss off the wrong person in my catfishing ventures, and end up at the bottom of a river somewhere. But that would probably be good old karma just doing what she’s best at. After all... When you play a dangerous game with emotions, those emotions can become the most volatile weapon anyone can wield. Especially when they are tested and toyed with enough.  As for prison... Well... I know there are many legal actions people can take in regard to how their photos are used and what is said about them. How they are portrayed by others online or otherwise falls under the realm of slander - if I’m not mistaken. Not entirely sure if we can call it genuine identity theft. I’m pretty sure the entire point of being a catfishing is to work in a lucrative enough way to which the content owners will be forever (or at least prolongingly) never the wiser to what you’re doing. So you change things like name, locations, ages, birthdays, etc. Avoid them and their circle of friends with prejudice. I don’t just mean ‘don’t send them friend requests’ or ‘don’t check their pages’. 

If you’re good at catfishing (if one even call the level of depravity you have to hit to do it well ‘good’), you pull out all the stops. Finding all of their accounts on every site and app and blocking them, their friends, their friend’s friends, and families. Whole geographic locations sometimes. Anyone from their area or who went to their school. You vanish from their potential radar.

And believe me when I say.... At catfishing... There are none better than me. At least, not that I’ve ever heard of. 

That’s not to be confused with boasting. I feel disgusted with myself in even stating it. Because that’s what it is - disgusting. This is the first time I’m admitting this in my entire life. So, I suggest you take a deep breath with me before you read what I’m about to confess. Ready?

In - one, two, three, four, five, six. 

Out - seven, eight, nine, ten.

I have catfished as (yes, I’ve counted)… One-hundred and twenty-seven people.

I know... I know... It’s impressive. Horribly and disturbingly so. And that does not account for the number of accounts I’ve had for each of them. Emails, Instagrams, Facebooks, etc. Even a few Vampirefreaks and Darkstarling accounts back in the day. I can’t even remember the names of most of them anymore. Only their faces. But even those fade over time.

You’d think for as prolific as I’ve been with getting to know them, their lives, and those around them so intimately to pull off the amount of catfishing I have - I’d remember more clearly. But I suppose if you do anything for as long as I’ve been catfishing, you’re bound to lose track of a few memories or blips of time. 

I know you’re all dying to know exactly how long I’ve being doing this for. So I’ll tell you. The answer may be as equally shocking as my ‘mask count’. Realistically, take a moment and try to guess how old I was when I started. Here’s a tip. As I sit and write this, I’m 29. Just a few months shy of my 30th birthday. Now go on.... Give it your best shot.

Got a guess?

Ladies, gentlemen, and thems. I have been catfishing since I was eight years old.

That’s right. Only eight years old. I’m sure you were thinking surely fourteen or even fifteen. Technically, you’re right. Somewhere around there is when I actually became aware of what it was exactly that I was doing. But things were much different then. When I was eight, the internet being a modern in-home comfort was relatively new. We had dial-up. Screechy AOL start up sounds that were most likely close rivals to what would be Cthulhu’s mating call. The days of poorly moderated chatrooms and weak HTML coding. Not even Myspace existed at that point (I really miss Tom. We took him for granted. Zuckerberg’s rules kind of make him seem like a bit of a cuck. But I digress.)

Before I was twelve years old, no one knew what the hell ‘catfishing’ was. We’d never experienced enough of it to have to worry that people online would lie about something as outlandish as their face. Their age, name, or location  - maybe. Shit, people have been lying about their relationship and marital statuses since the dawn of man. The internet didn’t breed lies like that, (though I’m certain it made it a great deal easier to do). Those were the kind of lies that you’d think of when it came to telling lies on the internet. But nothing like this. 

Now look at us. For every ten of your actual friends on Instagram, there is at least one catfish following you or trying to make friends with you. Not that it’s a factually proven ratio or anything, more so an idea. I’m clearly not a scientist or research analyst, and as we’ve already established - I’m way too busy maintaining fake accounts to actually look up factual catfishing statistics.

So why? Why did I do it? Why do I continue to do it? Why confess now? Most importantly, who the hell am I? The ‘whys’ are a bit more complex than just selecting reason A or B. But if you’re really curious to know and willing to hear what I have to say and find out what makes up a catfish. Or at least - me. The most prolific online catfish likely to date (here’s hoping I am because I’d hate to know there is anyone crazier than me out there). Then stick around, because I’m ready to tell you - all of you. Everyone who cares to read this story. I am going to do my best along the way to help you answer some questions you might have. What is it like, how does it make me feel, do I really feel guilty, are there other kinds of catfish, and which one am I? And of course - how to spot and potentially stop a catfish.

Maybe by the end of this blog series, and once you are past out-right hating me (if you can find it in you to get past out-right hating me.... *Insert nervous and shameful laughter here*). You’ll be at least thankful to have learned some new things and gained an understanding that you hadn’t expected to from this. Or at least be thoroughly entertained - because, who the hell doesn’t love a controversial story line? As for who I am.... 

I really wish I could give you an answer. Because truth be told - I don’t even know anymore. 

Maybe in writing this series, I’ll figure that out. Hell, you might even help me get there a bit. Aside the most obvious and recently discovered portion of that answer being, that I am first and foremost, a massive piece of shit - for stealing people’s photos and lying about who I am. 

[captcas]

Life is Short

LIFE IS SHORT by capthamm

Emma Swan and Killian Jones make the most of how short life truly is. **Inspired by the song Cecily Smith (Acoustic) by Will Connelly**

**WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**

read on ao3 / 2378 words

”I’m just headed for a walk and probably a slushie.”

As she got herself ready, Emma decided that she’d rather get a disapproving look for buying another slushie than have to explain to Mary Margaret that she’s going on a date. She turns her head, avoiding said look, as she walks out the door.

Emma doesn’t go on dates but a drunken download of tinder and 3 right swipes later (Storybrooke’s bachelor scene leaving much to be desired), she finds herself walking towards the harbor. The closer she gets the more she realizes maybe telling MM that she was meeting up with a stranger wouldn't have been the worst idea.

Storybrooke is small and she reasons to herself that, if something nefarious did happen, they’d find her eventually.

Killian doesn’t seem to have a nefarious bone in his body… at least through tinder messaging. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Emma?

She walks up to the water’s edge, finding peace in the solid ground beneath her feet. While she’ll admit the view is nothing to scoff at, Emma doesn’t particularly see the draw to spending an entire day aboard a rickety boat or getting soaking wet at the beach. If it’s someone’s thing, more power to them, but she prefers solid, dry land.

She’s lost in her thoughts when she hears someone walk up behind. She turns to meet him and is pleasantly surprised at how accurate his profile picture is— let's just say Leroy wasn't 6’2” and blonde. Emma’s about to comment on his honesty when he puts out his hand expectantly, “Killian Jones and I hope you like sailing because I may or may not have bribed my brother to allow the use of our co-owned vessel for tonight’s date.”

He smiles so brightly and confidently that she can't help but get wrapped up in his warmth, and he’s so perfectly British that even Emma can’t resist swooning a bit. All of these things would’ve been great to comment on, but before she can form a coherent thought she hears herself say, “I hate sailing.”

Somehow his smile gets wider. “Well lucky for you you’re with Killian Jones. I’ve never met a lass I couldn’t win over with a taste of the sea.” He must sense Emma’s hesitation and continue, “Life is not the things that we do, but who we’re doing them with.”

The quote catches Emma off guard— poetic and eloquent in an overall casual conversation. Although, she’s pretty sure he could make the phonebook sound poetic with his accent. She nods slightly and gives him a soft smile before he leads her towards the ship with a wave of his hand.

It turns out sailing takes a lot more effort than Emma thought. She’s currently just enjoying a glass of wine on the faux leather bench behind the captain’s wheel, but Killian has been running rampant as he steers them out of the comfort of the harbor. She tried to tell him they could just stay docked, but he insisted on the view from the horizon line. While Emma is amused by his childlike wonder, she figures nothing will come of the night if he has to be this attentive to the ship the entire time. It’s that mindset which has her sink down in her seat and close her eyes. The steady rhythm of his breath and the slight rock of the waves could lull her to sleep in no time.

She wakes up to his fingers threading between hers and has to stifle the gasp which fills her throat. Her gut instinct is to clock him for being so forward, but when she turns to face him, his face is radiating joy and she can’t find it within herself. They spend the rest of the night like that, chastely intertwined while he details countless stories told by the constellations. “Upon seeing Andromeda bound to the rock, Perseus falls in love with her. Perseus kills the monster and they are married for many years. It is said that Perseus is Hercules’ grandfather. Now they are up there side-by-side with Cepheus and Cassiopeia as a reward from Athena for Perseus’ bravery.”

Emma hums contently and without thought before realizing her head has found a resting spot on Killian’s shoulder. Besides the odd question here and there, Emma has been more than happy just listening to him talk, but at the sound of her hum she feels him tense beneath her. “Am I boring you, love?”

She can’t help but chuckle to herself before somehow finding it in herself to be blatantly honest, “This is the best time that I’ve ever had.”

Even in the dark she can see the slight blush on his ears and the smile that forms. He gazed at her intently for a moment before standing up.

The sudden lack of his touch is startling.

“I suppose I should get us home, Swan.” She wants to argue that they aren’t children but when she checks her watch she realizes it’s almost midnight. It’s not like she’s going to turn into a pumpkin, but MM thought she was just going for a slushie and is probably pacing a hole into the floor.

Emma nods reluctantly and Killian smiles at her, softer this time, but the sparkle still present in his eyes. “Lucky for you, I own this beautiful vessel and we can take her out whenever you’d like.”

She wishes she could say she was shocked at her answer, “I'd like that.”

At the beginning of the night had you told Emma Swan that she’d be willingly agreeing to a second date on the water, she would’ve assumed you were from some alternate universe. As they say goodnight and he kisses her softly on the cheek, Emma is all too aware of the magnitude of the evening.

Her world has been changed forever by one Killian Jones.

. . .

The rest of their 57 years together are split almost evenly between time on land and time aboard that ship.

When Emma asked the kids for help with their dad’s final voyage, she expected a crowd— grandkids and spouses alike— so when they showed up alone with a picnic blanket and a star map, just like “old times”, she couldn’t help but let out another round of tears.

Now as she walks the rusting ramp, Percy helping her and Cassie jogging ahead to get started undocking, she swears she can still hear him laughing. It’s as though the fibers of the sails kept each moment spent beneath them tucked safely away and she can’t imagine a better place for him to rest.

Cassie expertly navigates to the exact spot Killian anchored them in that first night so long ago. They’ve sailed here many times, so it’s no wonder it’s second nature for her. After making sure the ship was sturdy, Percy and Cassie head below deck leaving Emma alone with her memories.

That first date was on a night not unlike the one she’s wrapped in now, but everything else has changed monumentally— very little of the lost girl who boarded that ship remains. She found herself in Killian Jones. His cheery disposition and outlook on the “adventure” that is life pushed Emma out of comfort zones she didn’t even realize she was living in.

The sound of her tear hitting the ceramic vase is what brings her back to the reality of the moment. She’s unsurprised to find her tear a bittersweet one, Killian always assuring her there was no use in spending what little time we have on this planet in despair.

“Oh, how much I miss you, Killian Jones.” She whispers softly to herself as she finds her footing and heads to the railing of the boat. She slowly uncaps the urn and carefully empties the contents into the sea her husband loved so deeply. She clutches the necklace he directed Percy to have made, telling their son that his love of the sea was only matched by his love of their mother. It’s a long chain, and etched into the pendent somehow made of his ashes is a quote from the night they met: Life is not the things that we do, but who we’re doing them with.

She kisses the necklace softly before looking to the stars, Perseus and Cassiopeia shining bright as ever, “Killian Jones, how fortunate am I to have done life with you.”

. . .

“It doesn’t matter why I need her, I just do.” He levels with Liam, slightly rolling onto his toes to meet his brother’s height.

“Not good enough. You never insist on taking the ship so there has to be a reason.” Liam steps back a tad before crossing his arms.

Killian is not getting away with this one.

“I have a date.” Liam’s eyebrows skyrocket into the curls covering his forehead. Killian practically winces waiting for the slew of questions which will no doubt follow, but finds his fear unfounded.

Liam simply nods before turning away, “Fair enough. She’s all yours.” Killian is left alone in their living room completely dumbfounded but also entirely grateful. Liam is fully aware that he hasn’t taken anyone out on the ship since Milah’s passing and his brother’s lack of probing tells Killian the gravity of the action is not lost on Liam.

He never doubted his brother would let him take their ship, but it would be like Liam to rent it out or take Belle out for a last minute excursion without so much as a second thought at Killian prior request.

Any other night, he wouldn’t have minded, but tonight feels important.

He’s only chatted with Emma for a week or two through Tinder— Ruby assuring him he needed to get laid before setting up his entire account for him. The pair hit it off almost immediately, but he could tell she was skittish so Killian let her lead despite his immediate fascination with the woman beyond her good looks.

His outlook on life shifted dramatically after losing his Milah. Many men would have spiraled into a deep depression and the bottom of several liquor bottles— Killian would be lying if he said he didn’t try that route at first— but one day it hit him that he’d been given (albeit in the worst way possible) a brilliant life lesson. Life is short. And that’s the first time everything changed for Killian Jones.

As he walks up to the dock and spots her long blonde hair, his feelings are startlingly similar to that night— the one where his life changed for the better. He takes a deep breath, shaking out any final nerves, and repeats his mantra to himself: life is short.

Typically his date falling asleep before they’ve even reached their anchor point would be discouraging, but to Killian he can’t help but find pride in the comfort Emma feels in his presence. He reasons with himself that surely she would’ve been consistently on high alert had he flown any red flags.

It’s that self talk that gives him the courage to sit beside her.

Bloody hell, is he glad he did.

They spend the night detailing myths of the cosmos and time scurries away from them. He feels every minuscule movement she makes as they lean against one another and Killian is a goner by the time they get to the Big Dipper. Not only is Emma Swan the most stunning woman he’s ever seen— thank god her profile was of the honest sort— but she’s also bloody brilliant. He revels in every syllable she says, each moment tattooing a little more of her into his heart.

He’s worried he’s fallen too deep too fast, when she agrees to a second date— on the water no less— and all nerves dissipate immediately.

Before he knows it, Perseus comes along and makes him a father— Cassie following closely behind. Of course there were more dates, a wedding, two houses, and some fights in between, but when he thinks of the compression of time between their first date and the birth of their son, he can’t help but be flabbergasted. Time slowed eventually, retirement and being a grandparent bringing a new sense of purpose to their shared life.

But life is short.

The cancer comes a lot like his love for her did— at full speed and in full force— and it’s course seemed to speed up time once more. Killian knew his time was nearing the end, but couldn’t find it in himself to be sad.

Why waste what little time we have in life in despair? (Emma swears he said that to her one day, but he’s pretty sure she taught him that.)

It’s a chilly May afternoon when he asks Percy to join him for lunch. His son has grown into a fine young man, a father himself three times over, and he couldn’t be more proud. While he’s also proud of Cassie, Killian knows Percy will do what needs to be done with little rebuttal of “don’t talk like that” and “you’re going to make it”. Cassie feels with her heart and soul, but Percy has always been rational and dutiful. He knows Percy will have the necklace made and he’s positive it will be more beautiful than even Killian could dream up.

Killian is slightly surprised when Percy goes to protest Killian’s reference to his own impending doom, but one tweak of his eyebrow and his son clamps his mouth shut. Percy listens carefully for the rest of the meal, taking notes and assuring Killian he’ll do what needs to be done.

Killian has no doubt.

When the day comes, Emma doesn’t leave his side— he never doubted that she would. She hadn’t for 57 years so why start now? He gets to say goodbyes, which is more than most and he goes out looking into his wife’s eyes— strong, ready, and full of love.

Killian couldn’t have pictured a life half as wonderful as the one he got to lead, and he attributes every ounce of that fate to the woman who he got to do it with.

Life is not the things that we do, it’s who we’re doing them with. - Michael Mitnick “Cecily Smith”

[getalittleclosey]

under 25k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 50k

under 100k

100k+

☆ watching the world fall by whoknows 12k

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

☆ enjoy the ride by 2tiedships2 11k

“Stop sulking and get up. I have a proposition to make.”

“Niall?” Louis questioned. “Do you think I should put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling?”

He looked over and found Niall giving him an unimpressed look.

“So, no?” Louis asked. “No stars?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Niall stated.

Louis looked back at his starless ceiling and waved farewell to Niall. “Cool. Have fun!”

“No, you idiot.” Niall let out a frustrated sigh. “You, me, Liam, and Harry.”

Louis glanced over to Niall and back to the ceiling. “Who’s Harry?”

Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

☆ like to keep you laughing by kikikryslee 13k

Louis gasped. “Are you straight? Oh, I'm sorry, man. You should’ve just told me; I would’ve left you alone.” “No, no, that’s not it," Harry said. "I like guys. I definitely like guys.” “OK…” “Louis, I’m ace.” Louis snorted. “Kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?” --- Or, the one where Louis is a frat boy who likes to hook up and Harry is someone who doesn't hook up ever.

note: ace and aro rep bless

☆ say that you can see me (i’ll speak up i swear) by coffeelouis (streamtpwk) 20k

“Well, it’s not like anyone really RSVPs,” Liam defends when Harry turns back to him, “No one takes Facebook events seriously.” Harry rolls his eyes, still finding it within himself to get annoyed in his moment of panic. Liam has been complaining about the lack of accountability Facebook events have bred in their generation since their freshman year. Harry glances back to the gallery entrance. Yep, still there and moving closer.

“But aren’t you guys friends?” Harry asks, trying to convey the urgency in his tone.

“Well, I mean, I talk to him when he stops by the office for supplies sometimes,” Liam reasons, “But I wouldn’t say we’re friends, exactly. Maybe more like, friendly acquaintances?”

Harry groans. “You’re the fucking worst.”

[or, the liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.]

☆ a fire in us by hereforlou 12k

Louis had always thought it wouldn’t catch him off-guard. If he ever got his Time, he would be ready, and he would be calm, and he would make his way to wherever his soulmate waited for him and blow them away with how ready and calm he was.

When he got his Time on that Monday, years after he had stopped fantasizing about meeting his soulmate, Louis was not ready, and he was not calm. What he was was late.

(Or, the one where Harry waits and Louis worries.)

☆ just like the wolf before he bites by whoknows 11k

He’s loud, Louis is, and that’s far from unusual for him, but the volume of it still has Harry pulling back the curtain. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his brain about telling Louis off, because it’s fucking half three in the morning, but then.

But then Harry’s eyes get stuck on the soft glint of Louis’ stubble in the light, and he’s making his way across the room before he even realizes it.

Louis, for his part, just tips his chin up to give Harry space and keeps talking, waving the joint in his hand around for emphasis. He doesn’t even bother to greet Harry, going on with his story to his semi-rapt audience, just settles a hand in between Harry’s shoulder blades and pushes him down firmly.

Harry just. Relaxes. His eyes slip closed, pushing his entire face into that spot underneath Louis’ chin, where his hair is still growing, neat and prickly. The scent of Louis’ cologne drifts into Harry’s nose, light and fresh, and it’s calming. Comforting. His breathing syncs up with Louis’ quickly, and Harry feels so much better than he had five minutes ago he almost wants to cry.

note: i’m rewatching teen wolf so this hits different

☆ wine not? by multiple authors 21k

Louis’ Wine Dive is a bar run by the people for the people. Wine Styles is a boutique tasting room that caters to a more highbrow clientele. When their worlds clash on a beautiful Charleston street, one of these owners may find that an ounce of pretension doesn’t stand a chance against a pound of perseverance.

☆ ain’t that a kick in the head by multiple authors 22k

“Well.” Niall unlocks his phone. “It wasn’t getting the traction I wanted on Snapchat. So…I tweeted it.”

What.

“You tweeted it,” Harry states, nearing a state of brain dead. “To your ten thousand followers.”

Niall nods, handing Harry the phone. “You’re a meme, Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A meme. It’s like an internet—”

“I know what a fucking meme is, Niall! Why did you make me into one?”

Niall has the fucking balls to cackle at that while Harry looks at the mess his former friend created. Videos of him screaming at Tomlinson about Tide Pods and his ass are being quoted and combined with memes to a create a level of memeception Harry has never seen before. That isn’t even including the thousands of tweets of him falling up the stairs remixed with random Top 40 songs.

~

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.”

☆ tyger! tyger! burning bright by ryanreynolds 12k

They put on the Great British Bake Off, in a house in Donny, in England, that’s maybe inhabited by two ghosts, two lovers, stuck in the house where they used to have a life, so far away from the time they were born in. // A Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Harry and Louis died in a fire in the late 1800's, but death isn't the end.

☆ for the first time by mixedfandomfics 22k

The first Harry that Louis met was at his third school in as many years, and had shoved Louis’ head into the toilet when he walked into the mens restroom. Some slurs had been used, but the whole incident was kind of blurry thanks to the concussion he got when his head hit the tile floor.

The second Harry was a TSA agent when Louis was sixteen, returning from a trip abroad. The agent had smirked at Louis passport. “Layla, huh? Should think about dressing a little more feminine, no guy is gonna want you looking like that.”

Louis doesn’t want to see if “third time’s the charm” applies here. He’s finally secure in his life and happy, and he doesn’t want the heartbreak if his soulmate is just another bigot that wanted Layla and not Louis. Sue him for avoiding the pain.

☆ all i need is oxygen (and you) by lululawrence 12k

There are only two ways to navigate Bloomfield High School: become popular or make yourself invisible.

With the help of his best mate Niall, Harry’s introduction to high school hadn’t been half bad. Despite being a “bandie” – the lowest of the low in the ancient hierarchy of high school –Harry had somehow managed to survive freshman year relatively unscathed. So naturally, Harry would have been perfectly happy to resume his position of invisible trombone player number four for the remainder of high school. But one day something drastic happened, something that would change the course of Harry’s entire existence (probably).

It was the last football game of his freshman year, and the band was back in the stands after performing a rousing rendition of Bloomfield’s alma mater during half time. Harry was gracelessly wiping the slobber from the mouthpiece of his trombone when he saw him.

Louis Tomlinson.

Or...a High School AU where Harry is a bandie and Louis is the epitome of cool, so naturally, Harry must find a way to get his attention and win his affections.

☆ come together by bottomlinsons 11k

Harry and Louis slept together three weeks ago, and haven't talked.

Their coming group project is gonna change that.

☆ honey at seven by louiesunshine 11k

He’s in head to toe in khaki, from the oversized shorts showing off his thin and tanned legs to the buttoned-up shirt which is hiding his true form underneath. If his muscular arms have any indication, Louis easily assumes he’s fit and toned. A dark brown leather belt ties around his slim waist. And to top it all off, the man proudly wore a safari hat on his dark wavy hair.

Unfortunately from where Louis is at, he can’t get a clear view of the man’s eyes. But he’s able to see a strong jawline and a simple dimple curving his cheek. God.

Being the impatient guy that he is, he not so kindly pushes both Niall and Liam forward to speed them up.

“Welcome, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Hop on in and watch your head. If you happen to miss your step and hit your head, then lower your voice and watch your language. This is a family attraction and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Or, where Louis goes to Disneyland for his birthday and finds himself a cute Jungle Cruise skipper.

☆ the switch (love is blind) by writeroffictions 13k

A Model Behavior/Princess Switch AU: Harry Styles is a doppelganger for the new face of Gucci, runway model, Dean Rose. Harry is asked to pose as him one night for an event, because the actual Dean Rose is violently ill. This leads Harry to meeting his celeb crush, Global Superstar Louis Tomlinson. Sparks fly. But are any of them real?

☆ fiction romance by orphan_account 18k

Harry has a type.

He likes older, sophisticated, mature men. Well-educated men. Men with life experience and passion for arts and social causes. Men who are established in their careers, who've sorted their lives out.

Niall knows this.

And so Harry can't understand why he's sat here opposite Louis Tomlinson.

A punk Louis/uni Harry blind date AU.

☆ under me, you by hazzafrazza (colberry) 12k

You Won’t Believe Who Was Spotted Leaving Harry Styles’ Primrose Hill Pad! If Harry was being completely honest, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be a world-renowned popstar and an infamous vigilante.

(Especially when all the comic books said never reveal your secret identity to keep your loved ones safe – which was all well and good, until Louis.)

Or: Harry wants a lot of things – fame, glory, Louis – but that last one is particularly hard to get when everyone thinks you’re dating your secret superhero alter-ego and suddenly you’ve become your own worst cockblock.

☆ superhuman tonight by rearviewdreamer 23k

A group of young offenders doing community service get struck by lightning during a storm, and begin to develop superpowers.

☆ sing you butterflies by objectlesson 23k

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

---

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

☆ i’ll be your love tonight by dinosaursmate 20k

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from you.” “So don’t.” Harry ran a fingertip over Louis’ thigh. “Stay with me.” - It's the summer of 1999 and Louis Tomlinson has been abandoned at a house party. A dispute over Smirnoff Ice and several night buses later, Louis is unsure how he'll ever walk away from this lovely, curly-haired boy.

☆ carried away like butterflies by dinosaursmate 17k

“Actually…” Liam said, scratching his chin absently. “I have a friend who is moving to London soon.” “Without anywhere to live? Who is it? Do I want them living in my home?!” “You met him at my birthday party. Harry, from Cheshire. Remember? Really tight jeans, curly hair down to here?” Realisation dawned on Louis, staring at Liam who was gesturing round about his nipples. Did he remember Harry? Did he remember Harry? He remembered Harry’s square front teeth biting into his collarbone, and he remembered Harry moaning, loud and obscene with no provocation. He remembered Harry dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and roughly pulling Louis closer. He remembered, vividly, Harry’s lovely plump lips wrapping around his- “Lou?” “Uh- what?” Louis said, startled. “Oh, yeah. Um, I think I remember him.” - It was probably a huge mistake for Louis to let his former One Night Stand move into his spare room, especially when said One Night Stand doesn't seem to remember him.

☆ head head heart by turnyourankle 12k

After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.

☆ i got my eyes on you (you’re everything that i see) by balanceds 11k

“It’s not a secret, right, Harry? All of his friends seem to know--”

Harry slumps down and starts methodically banging his head against his newsroom desk. “Niall, it is a secret from him because I have spoken a total of ten fucking words to Louis Tomlinson and also he is incredibly out of my league and probably fucking straight as well!”

Or: Harry's a first-year on the school newspaper, assigned to cover the terrible men's first football team. Louis Tomlinson is the team's star defender. Harry pays significantly more attention to Louis's arse than to writing real columns. Pretty soon, everyone notices. It takes Louis the longest.

☆ then we kiss (all i wanna do is have a good time) by orphan_account 24k

Harry shuffles further into the room, timidly taking a seat on one of the chairs set in front of Louis’ table. He keeps his eyes on the floor, fumbling for words. “Sorry, I’m just—it’s just that I’m a bit nervous. And, uh, I wasn’t really expecting for you to look so—” he cuts himself off, just in time to keep himself from saying beautiful.

“Young?” Louis guesses, and Harry just nods, going along with it. “Yeah, don’t worry. I get that a lot, mate. People don’t really expect you to be head writer at twenty-nine. They think to get the job you have to be in your forties, or something.”

So a five-year age gap. Cool.

(harry is a potential new writer for a comedy show. louis is his kind-of boss. they flirt. stuff happens.)

☆ other habits (make your pleasure your pains) by jtsbbsps_dk 19k

Freaky Friday High School AU.

Wherein Harry just wanted to have lunch with his older sister, Cal sells ice cream, Gemma has a test, Anne thinks she knows (she really doesn’t) and Fate plays match maker, because no one puts her ship off course. Louis just tries to help out his best friend's little brother while dealing with a metaphorical butterfly invasion.

☆ the boy in the pikachu pants by mrsstylinson 20k

Louis stars as the bumbling idiot who's only a bumbling idiot around Harry. Harry stars as the charming bastard who steals his heart completely. They meet in the middle of a hallway with Louis in a state of considerable undress, singing Destiny's Child at the top of his lungs. Somehow that seals it for Harry. This is the boy he was always meant to fall in love with. Louis feels the same, only slightly more defeatist. It takes them a while to figure things out.

☆ all the small things by kitundercover 20k

AU. Harry is five inches tall and can't remember how he got that way, but maybe with Louis' help they can work it out. ---

Louis stares. “You’re five inches tall,” he says finally.

“I am about that.” The tiny man agrees.

“You’ve been making strange noises and scaring the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” The tiny man winces.

“You’ve been breaking my things.”

“Not on purpose.”

That voice is disconcertingly deep, and Louis keeps wanting to look up and find the fully grown person that it must surely be coming from. He takes a deep breath and moves onto the next impossible point.

“You’ve been riding my rabbit,” he says.

☆ like two softened shoes by marie24 14k

He sets his laptop on the bed, backing away and running his hands repeatedly through his curls. Okay. This is okay. This is fine. This is not real.

Will peeks his head around the door frame.

“Uh, everything okay in here?”

Harry tries to keep his breathing under control. “Yeah!” he says. “It’s, um, everything’s fine!” He can hear himself talking really loudly. Will looks doubtful.

“Are you sure? Because it really seems like -”

Harry barks out a laugh, cutting him off. “Okay! So this is going to sound really strange. But.” He looks at Will, with the same shiny fringe, blue, blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones he’d been writing about the whole last week. He worries his lip frantically between his teeth. “Um. I think I… I think I… wrote you?”

Or, Harry is a writer who gets through his writer’s block by pouring his feelings for his best friend Louis into a character. A few days later, the character lands in his bed, three dimensional and with no idea how to get back where he came from. He turns out to be very inconvenient for keeping Harry’s feelings to himself.

☆ ready to fall by whoknows 21k

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

☆ gnossienne by pukeandcry 11k

Louis sets a challenge for himself; it gets a bit out of hand.

☆ tonight’s not over (come over and stay) by louistomlinsons 17k

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?” Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password. “No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?” “Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis. “Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?” or, harry is a famous singer and louis is a student who just wants to write his novel

☆ a love that feels this right by dontlethimgo 14k

As always, the classic high-school rumour mill is never completely reliable. Sure, there are those stories that fly around that turn out to be true—like the one about Niall getting with a model at a party a few months ago (which Louis still struggles to believe)—but this ‘rumour’ has so many versions, and none of them are actually right.  

The Sixth Form AU where Louis is the footie team captain, Harry is head boy, and no one at school has any idea that the two of them are in love.

☆ put your head on my shoulder by wayfared 18k

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

☆ some nights i’m scared you’ll forget me by pukeandcry 15k

Zayn stifles a groan. He’s not terribly surprised -- Harry’d been mooning over Louis since the day they met three years ago when Zayn had moved into the house next to him -- but he’d been hoping that Harry would eventually get over it and redirect his attention to someone else. This development does not bode well for that turn of events, though. (High School AU)

note: this is zayn’s pov and has a decent amount of ziall and a lot of zarry friendship if i remember!

☆ oh how i hate this red string of fate by calamityk 14k

Harry thought being able to see people’s strings die would be the worst thing about his gift, until at twenty-two he finally met the other end of his own. --------- Or that soulmate AU where Harry can see the red strings of fate that tie everyone together.

☆ smoke dreams from smoke rings by objectlesson 18k

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he's grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

--- or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

☆ milkshake by speechless 13k

He's been saying it for years. He doesn't care that it makes Liam roll his eyes and Zayn sigh and Niall crack up. Lots of things he does get that kind of reaction from the boys anyway. Louis won't stop saying it, 'cause it's true. His milkshake does bring all the boys to the yard. It's a fact.

So the day he decides to get into Harry Styles' pants he says it again, when all three of his roommates are there to witness it. "I'll fuck him by the end of the month. You'll see."

☆ you drive me crazy (i just can’t sleep) by objectlesson 19k

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

☆ happily ever after by theneverending 19k

"It’s the Peter Pan that I work with most days. Harry got placed with us today and it’s really quite funny to watch him make starry eyes at Peter Pan from behind his camera. As if that would hide anything,” Niall claims with an eye roll, causing Harry to blush even harder.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Harry responds lamely, suddenly becoming interested in his food again.

“Harry, when you like someone, it’s written all over your face. You just kept staring at him.”

“That’s my job, I have to stare at him to make sure the photos come out nice.”

“You wouldn’t be getting defensive if I wasn’t right,” Niall rebukes, and Harry really can’t argue with that, so he lets Niall have the last word.

or, the one where louis and harry work at walt disney world, louis is a character performer for peter pan, and harry's the photographer that sometimes gets to work with him.

☆ like the stars that shined by butliamwhy 12k

Louis has stars in his eyes. Harry has known it since they were kids. They have their own tree, their own café booth, and so many years to fall in love. Perhaps a lifetime.

☆ green in the morning and blue afternoon by wildestdreams 14k

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or

a Friends AU.

[dropsofletters]

it’s a match!

title: it’s a match! pairing: johnny seo/reader genre: tinder!au/photographer!au summary: ten has a slight obsession with his newest dating app: tinder. it is only convenient that he gets his single friends into it. johnny, personally, thinks of it as a way to release stress and get a good laugh, but when one of his tinder matches ends up being one of his clients, things suddenly change for the two of them. type: fluff note: thank you to si-chengs here on tumblr (goddamn tumblr and not letting me tag people dAMN) for editing this picture and helping me with my fic’s header. you’re the real mvp, ily<3 all credits for this edit go to her!

It’s when Johnny Seo gets bored that his best friend gets the worst of ideas.

Dongyoung, the third part of their group of friends, is more intelligent and less chill than he is, so he always says no to Ten’s ideas, but Johnny finds that having just that slightest bit of newness in life isn’t so wrong after all. It is a Sunday night and the fan of his apartment is blowing the papers of the notebook he is supposed to be reading for some presentation he has at work, but instead, he is lost in his phone trying to find a new app to download. Sure, social media is fine—a great distraction method to keep him scrolling and scrolling, watching videos of food he wants to eat, writing direct messages to the friends he can’t see personally anymore and of course, going into the deepest parts of the web that shows things that he would like to un-see. Maybe, in a good day, he gets a good cat video. But it is a Sunday, a boring one at that, and as he keeps scrolling through Instagram all he sees are the same set of pictures. Food. Pictures of his cousins. Old funny pictures.

A whiff of a cologne that is too sweet for anyone’s liking, but extremely expensive, indicates the entrance of Ten. Johnny does not know what his roommate was doing previously, he feels like Ten told him, but his mind can’t quite wrap around it. With an elongated groan as he throws his head back on the sofa’s headrest, he sees that Ten is drying his hair with a towel, shirt disregarded somewhere, new pants highlighting his waist and he, altogether, looks put together and…better than he does when at home.

Not only that, but Ten is smiling at his phone. He does smile often, of course, a machine of jokes and a lot of teasing, but Ten very rarely has that cheesy smile. The type of smile he gives to the people he wants to sleep with, or go out on a date with in a special occasion. His lips quirk up a little bit less, his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink and he quirks one of his eyebrows, almost as if in awe, the excitement and thrill of flirting getting the best of him. “What are you doing?” Johnny asks, looking down at his basketball shorts to see a mustard stain at the very edge. Fuck, he had eaten a burger earlier and somehow, he has a stain now.

“Talking to my Tinder match.”

Tinder, Johnny recognizes the name of the app, and he would have smiled if only he wasn’t so bored. He remembers the night when Ten first mentioned it, saying that he had the hook-up of his life thanks to a Tinder match, and he did not even have to talk all that much. Soon after, Dongyoung had visited them and Ten had somehow convinced Dongyoung to create an account. It didn’t last long, considering Ten had tried to explain the ‘art of being a seductive man without sending dick-pics’ and Dongyoung immediately took his phone away from the man and deleted the app.

Dating apps are not his thing. Dongyoung and dating sounds impossible, too, he is just…Kim Dongyoung. In Johnny’s eyes, he is a single mother that loves watching reality shows and listening to pop songs.

Johnny doesn’t care. Yet, here he is—bored and curious, entertained by the sight of Ten being happy, ready for his night out. “Oh,” He says first before sighing. “Is Tinder fun?”

His black haired roommate looks up from his phone, locks it and puts it inside his pants before rummaging through the small pile of clothes he has in the living room from the laundry he just did that morning. He is just too tired to put it in his closet, or rather, too busy. “Yeah, I guess, for lazy people who are just too tired to look for someone or…people who don’t know how to look for someone.” Ten clicks his tongue when he finds just the shirt he wants, pulling the fabric of the sweater over his body, speaking through the action. “Not for someone like you. You actually look like you can get dates.”

Johnny tilts his head to one side, then the other. “I can…and I do…” His confidence doesn’t falter, and Ten shrugs his shoulders, but before his roommate could get too far away, he stretches his hand to grip Ten’s wrist. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t create an ironic Tinder account. Just for the laughs, you know.”

Whether Ten thinks about it for a second or two, or not, is not noticeable. The motion he does to get beside Johnny on the couch is quick, taking Johnny’s phone from his hands and immediately downloading the app. It is as if he only wanted to have more of his friends getting into the world of online dating, and maybe it is a really good choice, just like how it can be a bad one. “Yeah, that’s what I said and now I can’t get out of it.”

“That’s because you don’t like putting a lot of effort into relationships.”

His friend huffs at that. “That’s right…” He confesses, moving his fingers across the screen as he searches for a set of pictures. “I don’t want to hit it up with a selfie first, it’d look like you don’t have any friends—oh, maybe not one of the professional pictures you have either, you’d look like a catfish.” Johnny’s cheek is pressed against the sofa, looking at Ten’s doings with little to no interest. All he wants to do is annoy some people, not particularly get some classes from a self-proclaimed love master. The warmth of the room is more palpable by the closeness of her friend and the scent of his cologne is giving him a headache. “I think this picture of you is perfect.”

Johnny looks at that one picture he had taken driving a fake car in some arcade and he smiles. It shows his personality, taking himself seriously when he is funny, but also living his life like he doesn’t care. The picture would give the thought of someone who doesn’t care about what people around him think. “Oh, oh, can we add one of those descriptions people have on Tinder?”

“You kind of have to.” Ten mumbles and then he picks a few other pictures randomly before clearing his throat. “What do you want in your bio?” Before Johnny could respond, Ten speaks over him. It is a habit of his, to always think he knows everything, and to add a little bit of mischief to everything he does. “I think something like ‘Johnny, knows two languages and can speak the language of love’ would be pretty ironic.”

Johnny pushes his plump lips up, rosy like buds and a little bit chapped. Instead of working on his Tinder profile, he should be hydrating himself and probably preparing dinner. “Too lame for me,” He says. “I am thinking more of ‘this is a picture of me driving, and I can drive you crazy.’”

“And you call my idea lame?” Ten questions, squinting his eyes with the action before shrugging his shoulders. It is not like he cares all that much about Johnny’s active dating lifestyle. “Okay, so…this is a picture of me driving. I know how to drive a car and…” The shorter man starts typing on the screen before that part is completed. “Anything else?” Johnny shakes his head, a lazy smile plastered on his face when Ten adds a few other bits of information before delivering his phone back.

“Is that all?” The taller asks and Ten licks his lips before nodding his head. He doesn’t say much, simply asks if he looks alright, something that Johnny confirms just before diving in the complexities of Tinder.

If the story is ever told from someone’s point of view other than his, it might sound extremely biased, but Johnny did exactly what would be considered wrong in Tinder: swiping right for everyone just to play around. Not in the sense of hook-ups, or maybe yes, but after he actually has some fun with it. All he wants to do is confuse people, and that is what he does. Whenever someone sends him a message, he responds with the most obnoxious and teasing of texts, pretending to be different types of stupid people with every person.

Really, he came up with a variety of characters. The conceited rich kid that thinks he’s better than everyone else. The guy who is into questionable shit. That one guy that can’t spell things correctly and probably ends up in some Instagram page, or YouTube video. Johnny has the time of his life, barely realizing that Ten goes out with a wave of his hand and a smile that speaks cheekiness. Everything that rolls through Johnny’s mind is making the dull night into something better.

Then, his eyes settle on a person that had matched him, realizing that that one brain-cell that keeps him making fun of people in the Tinder app suddenly becomes aware of what it is. A dating app, perhaps not the best of creations to some, but he could use it for what it really is. He sees the woman in the picture, dark lipstick coating her lips, eyelashes thick with mascara and a pouty look in her picture that she took of herself that had Johnny looking at the rest of the pictures she had displayed. Gorgeous body, deserving of all the praise in the world with how she makes his heart race in the matter of seconds, biting his bottom lip as he ponders, wonders, questions what to say because he doesn’t really want to ruin this opportunity.

The good thing about Johnny is that he knows he is funny, and he uses that to his advantage, so with an opening joke he starts the conversation. Only a few seconds pass by and he receives a thoughtful emotion before a small: “Sorry, didn’t understand the joke, hah.” shows up on his phone. Johnny hisses to himself, trying not to cringe at his own stupidity before typing once again.

“Bad joke, my bad.” He continues. “What’s up, gorgeous?” Apparently, he wants to be as direct as he can be and that has always served him in real life. Dating apps might be a little bit different, but he can always turn things to go his way.

It takes a few minutes for her to respond, and Johnny takes that time to make himself a sandwich, swiping mayonnaise on the bread as he looks at his phone and luckily for him, she answers as quick as possible. “Doing homework. You?”

Johnny smiles to himself. A difficult one, but there is not much of a dare that can go over who Johnny Seo is, so he tries again. “Eating a sandwich. Mine are the best, I wish you could try them.” Not that she would realize it is a lie, because the bland sandwich with some chicken leftovers from earlier and mayonnaise is not really what he calls a good sandwich, but one, she did not need to know that, and two, it’s just a bad day for his will to make something good.

“Some guys would invite me out to dinner…and you invite me to have a sandwich.” A bunch of laughing emoticons follow soon after and Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich before licking his lips clean.

“Glad to stand out thanks to something, then.” Johnny replies and then, he types her name in the form of a question. “Sounds like the name of a woman who wouldn’t mind a sandwich for dinner, with some candles to make it all romantic.”

The response has him laughing as he leans back on the counter, his back a little hunched in the small space that Ten dares to call a kitchen. The apartment is nicely decorated, thanks to Ten’s money and touch when picking furniture, but the size of the apartment is made for people around Ten’s height, not exactly Johnny’s. Although, he does not consider himself all that tall. His apartment is made for tiny people, is what he likes to say. “Johnny sounds like the name of a guy who could do better. Try again.”

“I’m joking.” He says.

“I knew so.” Her response has a small laugh at the end that makes it flirty, and he can imagine her, probably trying to find something to distract her from the meticulous task. “That’s what caught my attention from your profile: your sense of humor.”

“Not my dashing good looks?”

“Yeah, those work, too.”

“So, what are we doing for our date?”

The texts come quickly, as if she has completely forgotten about the fact that she has homework to do. Perhaps an essay that is halfway done, or some project that needs too much glue and colors. All he knows is that he doesn’t really mind, but he should. “You’re already asking me out on a date?” Before Johnny can reply, she continues her text. “I like the sun and fresh juice, so that’s for you to pick.”

Luckily for Johnny, he knows a good place by the beach and it sells the best food he has tried in a while, so he sends her the name of said restaurant and much to his surprise, she recognizes it. Johnny thinks that the moon has always orbited to get to where he wants it to be, never too high, never too low, always perfect to downcast over him. Perhaps, he did it for fun—to create a Tinder account, but Johnny always gets blessed by an opportunity that he knows how to take. In this case, he has a day, an hour and a person to take care of.

All he knows is that Ten is right. No strings attached and also a place to joke around with people? Tinder might have gotten a good place in his heart, by now.

That can be shown through the midnight talk he has with her, getting to know this stranger that has a smirk on his face. Johnny is assured he will have a nice time.

Movies do tend to exaggerate things, quite obviously. Put a scriptwriter, creative but in the cliché sense that leaves people with a handful of movies that are clearly similar, with a director that has a set image on how to show things and a cameraperson, along with a producer and many other staff members that set up a good film. Most are not good, quite clearly, but it all depends on tastes. There are tropes that are overused, like how in rom-coms the meeting of two people tends to be in slow motion, with shared stares that hold interest, palms that join in a calloused touch before going into the full hug. Some kisses are lame, others are more passionate, some don’t even include kisses just to leave people hanging.

Or even worse, some thrillers paint situations like the ones he is in as the start of a never-ending set of events that leave people twisted like a pastry of sorts, but that is not the case. He is in the very public, slightly crowded restaurant, watching his phone as he sits at one of the woodened tables, the open space and the sound of the sea leaving a smile to his face, though it is not visible, but not all happiness needs to be shown like a Las Vegas sign in the middle of the night. She is not there, of course, but he remembers all the things—or most of them—she had told him in the week they had been talking for. He knows what her major is, what she works as, some of her music tastes, her favorite movie and a handful of her flirty remarks. The attraction in there, though not palpable, vivid, trembling, asking to be touched, to be marked, to be an existing occurrence of popular behalf. All they need to do is act up on it, on the promises in between cheeky sentences, and the kisses that they have yet to share.

Or not, that is the good thing about a date—you finally confirm just how real the things people said are. Johnny is good at reading people, so he thinks, not good enough to judge, but just the perfect amount of right to know what he needs to get involved in. He looks at his phone once again, reading a text that says she is on his way, but that was already fifteen minutes ago.

Not to say that Johnny is impatient, but he might be.

Awkwardly, he taps his foot against the flooring, his white t-shirt and shorts seeming good for a day at the beach, but not quite for a date. Does he care? Maybe at the depth of his thoughts, but he knows he looks good. Black hair parted in the middle, sunglasses covering his eyes in style, lips rosy thanks to chap-stick. All he needs is the title of the hot bodyguard in a movie, not that he is a good actor to start with, in his own opinion.

When he meets her, it’s not one of those slow motion moments. She doesn’t walk to him in counted steps, quite the contrary, she rushes and pushes her hair away from her face, the summery dress she is wearing leaving a little bit to the imagination, flowy and floral-y in the most perfect of ways. Johnny is awestruck, seeing her dark lipstick changed to a sweet coat of pink, eyes sparkly instead of filled with passion. Although, she is visually a goddess in disguise, Johnny can say that there is absolutely cuteness to her, one that he would have never thought she had. A messy smile when she sits down, apologizes before she can even say her greetings, and she flinches a bit when she accidentally touches his naked calves under the table with the tip of her foot. She says a lot, rushes through the words, loses that title of an Incubus as he had thought of her, and suddenly becomes the sweet, old, romantic Cupid.

She looks up from the menu splayed on the woodened table, blinks softly before releasing a smile that has Johnny returning it. There is not enough beauty he can hold, so he wants to give her back what she does to his fluttering feelings, the emotions that come with a first date. “I don’t mind. I know traffic was heavy today.” The nervousness dissipates from her face and for a moment, he realizes the flustered expression she holds is adorable enough to remember. One leg crossed over the other, she responds.

“I am sorry. I tend to ramble and…either way,” She cuts herself off before interlocking her fingers together. He knows she is studying him, from the way her eyes rake up and down his features. For a moment, she looks at his biceps, swallows hard and smiles softly. “I’m glad you’re real, Johnny, I thought you were going to be an old man that wants to have a sugar baby.”

He doesn’t know much about the terms, or he didn’t, until Ten decided to teach him the wicked ways of Tinder. Johnny is surprised, to say the least, present because he continues to be and he chuckles at the thought of a fidgety woman that stands by the restaurant looking for the man in the pictures she saw. “You’re pleased with what you see, then?”

When he thinks of it, it is a flirty comment to start the date right, to give her a big green flag that indicates he is up for a few kisses, some caresses, and whatever that leads to, but she seems flustered. Biting down on her bottom lip, she looks at the menu and trails her nail over it before pressing her palm to her face. “I, uh…you’re starting off strong, aren’t you?”

“Go hard, or go home.”

“That’s so frat boy of you.”

“You know I’m not a frat boy.”

She flutters her eyelashes, leaning her head on her palm and sighing. “Talk to me about photography and I’ll trust you on that.”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow, interested, leaning forward on his elbows and soon after, he speaks. “Alright, alright…” He repeats, trails his voice in a way that has her looking down at his lips. “But invite me to a drink first.” He feigns innocence, pressing one hand to his chest and making her chuckle.

“Passion fruit juice sounds great to you?”

Johnny widens his eyes comically. “Passion fruit?” He asks, highlighting the word in a way that has her throwing her head back in laughter. “We’re going for passion here. Whew, what a wild card we have right over here—”

She tilts her head to the side, shaking her head before licking her lips. “I’m hungry. Stop trying to make me flustered.”

Johnny says something before calling the waiter over. “I don’t think I’m trying. I know I am trying and succeeding, let me tell you.”

“Oh my God, stop!”

The perfect time comes from spending it with someone so human, the title becomes a compliment. He loves the way her eyes twinkle when she smiles, or how she likes to control her laughter at the beginning of the date until she is comfortable. All he wants to do is make her feel as gorgeous as he thinks she is, he wants to be able to sugarcoat her, show her just how interested he is, and see where that leads to.

He is absentmindedly hinting at something called a one-night stand, term widely known because of its unromantic use of something called intimate by some people. No strings attached, rules set in a game that a lot of people take part of nowadays. There is this one friend, a photographer as well but a much more well-known one, that had given him a better explanation of what he thought was a one-night stand. A night to stand someone, to be and not to be at the same time, to become what has no name and understand it. Johnny knows it might be too fast, and if it doesn’t happen, he won’t be mad—he had a good date, a nice talk and a lot of laughter in only one afternoon, but he wouldn’t be angry if she told him she was interested in such thing.

Pink and orange, orange and pink, made for one another when put together in a sunset. The breeze is soft against their skins, her hands fidgety in front of her body, his eyes constantly looking at her—staring, even, because he doesn’t want to forget just how beautiful she is. Or maybe, he knows just how flustered he is making her. Johnny pushes some hair away from his face as he speaks. “…And yeah, my friend Ten owns this beach house, which is insane.”

“And you’re taking me there?”

“Let’s just pretend for a few hours that I am this rich, magnate guy that promises you all the diamond rings in the world.” Johnny comments, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the entrance of Ten’s getaway place. Just like everything he owns, it is nicely decorated but this beach house is a lot less used. Johnny just had to give him some pictures for an advertisement he was making on his Instagram account and he got the keys to the house once a year. “I had to take pictures of him for some clothing line that wanted to sponsor him just to get the keys.”

She smiles at that, watching as he opens the door with neat movements. “Should I feel honored that you brought me here, then?”

“You should. I always say no to Ten because he is very picky with his pictures, but I did it because I wanted you to look at this.” Just by that moment, he opens the door to the beach house and a gasp leaves her lips, only to cover them soon after. Indeed, Ten’s house is minimalistic but perfectly put in place with shades of gray and charcoal black, with a few doors and a few dots of white in decorations here and there to give some contrast. It is clean enough to look like a dollhouse. “Someone comes here to clean it every three days. I don’t know why he doesn’t live here. It would be the dream, but he’s too much of a city guy.”

“I have always loved the beach.” She says. “This is…wow, you actually took some pictures just to take me here?”

“Yep.” Johnny closes the door before tossing the keys on the coffee table. She spends her time looking around the place, bringing a smile to his face with how precious she looks when seeing things for the first time. Her expressions are, indeed, one of the best he has ever seen. “I bought some movies and snacks,” He starts as he opens a drawer on the table that holds the TV before shaking the bag of chips on one of his hands, holding the movie with the other. “You don’t have anything else to do after this, right?”

“Don’t think so.” She replies, watching as Johnny starts putting up the movie for them to watch. It is probably a comedy movie, only to bring some joy to their date—more than how amazing it had been—and with a soft gush of a breath, she plops down on the couch. He feels her staring, her eyes raking up and down his back, one good look at his bottom and then, back again at the back of his head. “Uh…I know this is not the time to say this, but…I kind of, I mean—I had never gone out on a Tinder date, and I know I sounded way flirtier than I am, so…I hope I didn’t make things awkward?”

Johnny chuckles from his spot, picking up the remote and turning on the TV before rushing to her side. One arm splayed around her shoulders and his eyes looking into hers are the response she gets before she speaks. Genuine, kind, flirty. “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

“…I have never had a date of mine quoting Kris Jenner.” Though a chuckle gives away just how funny she finds him and Johnny grins back.

“I’m feeling very special.”

He would not necessarily say that he likes to corrupt people, because he is a nice guy—and pretty much the best friend a person he could find, but there is something that makes him feel excited of seeing a side of her that no one else expects to see. She is a goddess from the moment someone sees her, but she doesn’t control thunder or the sea, her weapon is as strong as a giggle, the gleam behind her eyes, something that shows just how she views life, and Johnny finds himself thinking about those things throughout the movie.

One moment is all it takes to share a kiss, just like how one second is enough to break the doings of an entire date, but Johnny has always known how to take his chances and only thirty minutes later, he does what he had been planning all night. His lips press to her, tasting a bit like the salty chips they just had, swollen from the spiciness and making her sigh against them when she rests her hands over his chest. Suddenly, it makes sense, it feels right, everything seems like that one book with five-hundred pages that ends in the most fulfilling way.

His hands are at her waist, the ring he decided to wear seeping its coldness through the fabric of her dress. He wants to tease, needs to smile when pulling away briefly before diving in once again. He is aware of what he is doing, how she pushes her body forward to be met by his chest, the way her hands cup his jaw to bring him to one side just to deepen the kiss. It tastes like the strings that are not tied, like the sun and the moon meeting at the hour of the sunset, but only for a brief moment before they have to let go.

It is not a surprise that she runs his fingers through his hair and he begins to lay her down slowly on the couch, placing his hands on the back of her thighs before speaking against her lips. His eyes are half closed, his black hair made a mess and the gloss she had reapplied is smeared across his lips. “Are you alright with this?”

She looks over to the side, biting her bottom lip and trailing her hands underneath his shirt to touch his skin. “I want you.”

Johnny smirks at that, leaning forward to kiss her lips and bite down on her bottom one to receive a soft breath. “I like how that sounds.” He stands up with his hands on the back of her thighs, bringing her up with him and she squeals at the action, making him smile when she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his slender waist. “W-What?” He asks in between chuckles and she joins in the laughter.

“Are you sure you can hold me up?” She questions and Johnny nods his head, feeling as she rests her head on his shoulder.

“Let me be romantic, all romance movies have this moment.” The sentence makes her laugh as he lays down on the bed quickly, his elbow and forearm resting on one side of her head and the other reaching for her waist as he kisses her once again, dreamy but not quite, passionate but with enough amount of comfort. Johnny is one hell of a man, she discovers that night, eager to make her feel like the protagonist of a romance movie.

Only, that movies don’t last more than three hours and after a while, she has to go back with the silent promise of never seeing each other again.

“You slept with someone you met on Tinder?!”

Groups of friends should be able to confide in one another, but she doesn’t trust most of her friends. The shrilling scream that leaves her friend’s lips make her cling to the edge of the table from the restaurant she is having dinner at, and she looks up with the most blank expression she can muster. She has not told anyone, not even her closest friend that is at the table, it is a secret—or was, naturally—kept to herself. In retrospect, she thinks her sex life should never be put out there, much less does she have to talk about which apps she uses to get dates, or how far those dates go. Then again, the surprise in her friend’s tone is to be expected, because she had never slept with someone so quickly before.

But then Johnny came along, and he wasn’t the typical flirty boy that covered everything in a coat of pretty pale shades to indicate more than it really was. Johnny was transparent, enough to let her know from the beginning that he obviously wanted something to do with her, and not only that, but he also lived up to the expectations she had for him. It is not something that she would say out loud, but his presence and sense of humor, along with his overall nice personality, was what had given her the push to sleep with him. Be damned social concepts of purity and respect, if she wanted him and he wanted her, there was nothing wrong with that.

The problem is that her friends do not need to know, and her Tinder account is long forgotten after that encounter. The least she wants is to have her friends knowing that she had gotten bored and created a Tinder account, and actually put it to use to get ‘dicked down’, as some would say. She takes a sip of her water, presses her lips together to swallow before sighing. “That’s nonsense. You know I would never create a Tinder account. I’m not like that.”

Not that there is anything wrong with it, but she can’t seem to accept it. It brings her some kind of embarrassment, perhaps because she has a conception of how her friends react to deals like the ones she is in right now. Hyori, the friend that had spoken on the first place, pouts as she sits back down to take a long sip of her Soju. “B-But…Daniel told us that you had a Tinder profile.”

Daniel is not there, so she might as well lie.  Or not. “…I said I’m not the type to do it, not that I didn’t do it.”

Caught in her own lie, thanks to Hyori and Daniel, she tries to hide her own lies behind a spoonful of food. “So you had sex with someone you barely even knew?!”

The other eyes in the room settle upon her and all that she can seem to think about is hide the embarrassment that she knows shows through her face and mainly, come up with any excuse at that given time. “Uh…no…that’s—that’s none of your business, Hyori.”

But her friend persists. “Ooh, someone did the Devil’s Old Tango.”

She cringes at the sound of Hyori’s tone, lowering herself on her seat and eating more. Throughout her life, she thinks she has been a little bit selective with the people she ends up dating, or going out on dates with. It is not exactly that she has not dated enough, because she has, but she thinks only a few people are worth her time. Is it stupid that most people have lowered their standards because someone is not willing to try anymore? It is. She thinks she is worthy of some trying, of someone who is able to dive in completely, not keep one foot out of the water just in case. And Johnny was that to her, he put the cards on the table and showed which game he wanted to play. It only so happened that her mind had the option to decide between two things: sleeping with Johnny and taking her chance, or simply forgetting about it. She insisted on the first one, and she was pleasantly surprised. “Stop.”

One of her friends also asks Hyori to stop, but the woman sighs with a happy smile on her face. “How was he?”

“Hyori, I won’t talk about it—”

“Show me a picture of him.”

The second most serious person at the table, Choonhe, takes Hyori by the arm and pulls her to the side. “Hey, leave her alone.” With one touch to her cheeks with the back of her hand, she feels how hot her skin is. A part of her thinks that her main problem with talking about Johnny Seo is that she doesn’t really want to make anything public. Johnny is that one secret she likes to keep to herself, because it is hers in a way—like that one song she likes enough to only listen to it from time to time. It is a nice memory, a flutter of a flower she doesn’t get to see often, and it is her will to keep it a secret. “By the way, does anyone want to order more hot wings? I’m still hungry.”

Now that the attention is off her, she can start losing herself in her thoughts. It is stupid, how she simply kept Johnny’s number in her phone but she decided to delete the app. Tinder was a way of spending her time at first, but Johnny caught her attention—for once, he was not creepy, and he was a little bit more like her type. It would be stupid of her to try with someone else, knowing that Johnny had already put her expectations too high…and she doesn’t think she is ready for another one-night stand.

Sometimes, she ponders if he thinks about her, too.

But it is unlikely, people like him, who think of hook ups as a better way of loving normally don’t miss people, much less do they think about them twice. Although, the world is a tiny place and maybe, just less likely than other chances, she will get to meet up with Johnny once again.

Him, made to make her blush, to enchant her, to be the only one living in her brain for the time being.

Her, surprised by the fact that Johnny Seo is incomparable in some way. Even better than some of her past relationships, who tried a little too hard, but Johnny got her wrapped around his little finger with just one date. A few texts. Of course, a million smiles thrown her way.

“Hey, hey!” Hyori calls out from her spot, patting her friend on the arm various times. “You’re blushing, sis. Tell me all about it!”

That’s when she knows Johnny is someone she can’t take out of her brain so easily.

“Jaeho! Look up here!”

Dongyoung has a type of patience that Johnny wishes to have. It shows in Johnny’s work; a photographer whom had once dreamed of taking pictures for magazines like Vogue, or even going as far of being a concert photographer, but he ended up taking pictures of whoever goes to the store he works at. Dongyoung is not particularly a photographer, per say, but Johnny needed someone that helped him with people when he was trying to come up with the perfect picture, and while adults did not need that much attention, kids did. At this point, Johnny knows that Dongyoung is excellent at making babies look into the camera and smile.

Maybe, it is because Dongyoung is holding a teddy bear on top of Johnny’s head and he calls Jaeho’s name cutely, voice a little bit higher, a wide smile on his face, looking a lot less intimidating than Johnny, a person who gets overly frustrated when he can’t take the perfect picture. He does not say it often, but he is thankful of Dongyoung’s doings and how excellent he is with clients.

Jaeho looks up and smiles at the camera, making grabby hands at the teddy bear and Johnny can take the picture with the perfect layout that makes it look professional. That is the best part of his job, turning the store into something incredibly creative, not even leaving to do so. However, as the shutter goes off and he continues to take pictures of the baby, the sound of the front door opening catches his attention but he is too busy to take his gaze away from his camera. “Dongyoung, could you go see who’s out there?”

With a grumble, Dongyoung puts the teddy bear down, saying a small: “On my way.”

Jaeho starts crying immediately, and his parents—two young yet tired looking ones—don’t seem to do anything more than shush him. Johnny puts his camera down, biting on his bottom lip before picking up the teddy bear once again. “Look, look!” He says, waving the teddy bear on one hand and making Jaeho shut his mouth immediately, staring at Johnny with glossy eyes and puffy cheeks. The tall man balances the teddy bear on his shoulder, pressing his cheek against it before holding his camera. “Gimme a smile, come on Jae!”

Dongyoung comes waltzing inside the room once again, smiling widely and taking the toy from Johnny’s shoulder before wiggling it in the air. “You’ll be so happy.”

Johnny grumbles. “Why?”

“Because there’s another baby coming for a photoshoot.”

Not that Johnny hates kids or babies altogether, but there is something that makes him feel fidgety when he takes longer than he should in just one part of his work. With a curt nod, he continues taking pictures, finishing his job with a set of squads to get the perfect angle. Once the couple are gone, Johnny waves happily and then lets out a sigh. He can only pray that the next kid is not this annoying. “Ask for the payment first and then, let them in.”

“Gee, say please at least.”

“Dude, please.”

“That’s better.”

The fact that Johnny has a funny life would, could and will always be a statement. In this case, the moment he fixes his camera, prepares another layout and cracks his knuckles to start working at the entrance of Dongyoung. However, the clients are following soon after him, a set of three women—two adults, and the baby, approximately a one-year-old. Johnny does not think much of the first woman, but the second one has him widening his eyes for a second before a smile appears across his face.

Navy blue is the sweater that covers her frame, cropped, enough to show the waist he got tired of holding during their night together—or not, it’s an exaggeration—. Her legs do look amazing, but what is more interesting is her smile. If smiles could heal the world, hers would be enough to make a book out of the universe. He doesn’t say much, holds his camera and waits until she realizes, but she is too busy holding what he thinks is not her daughter…

A daughter never came into the conversation.

Is that her daughter?

“Good morning. I am here to take some pictures of my nie—” Almost as in cue, she stops talking when she looks at Johnny. The Johnny Seo, that one guy she slept with only three months prior to that moment and that she never talked to ever again. She wishes it would have happened, but conversations always fell short. He was busy, so was she and then, they never really tried. Her sister looks at her, squinting her eyes before clearing her throat.

“That’s my daughter. I want some pink background…since it matches her white dress, and just anything cute and bubbly!” Overly excited she is, and a little bit put off by the way her sister is ogling the photographer, but not that she knows anything about that. Johnny licks his lips, tries to push back his smile before nodding his head.

“Yeah, sure,” Johnny kneels down to prepare the layout and from far away, he swears he hears his one-night stand mumbling something to her sister. He doesn’t say much, just watches from the corner of his eyes as she suddenly gives her niece to her sister and crosses her arms over her chest. Flustered, much more when he catches her staring at the curve of his ass.

Caught on the act. And Johnny is proud of it.

“I, uh, I think I’m going to wait in the car.” She starts but her sister cuts her off.

“No, stay with me.” Whiny she is and that makes her shut her mouth for a second, watching Johnny, catching a glance of Dongyoung that is aware of the tension in the room for some unknown reason and she really wants to get out of there, the photographer can already sense it, but there is some happiness within him just to get to see her again. He fixes his camera, raises his eyebrows and soon after, he’s speaking again.

“Put your daughter down on that little arrangement, on the chair if you want…” He trails his voice, watching as the little baby looks at him out of interest. She’s curious, although a smile does not creep up her face yet.

Dongyoung immediately gets to work, moving his arms around and earning a big toothy grin from the child in front of him. “That’s it, a big smile! She seems sweet.”

The mother, with her arms crossed and a smile on her face, responds: “She is a ray of sunshine, to say the least.”

Johnny bites back the idea of responding ‘maybe, it is in the family’, because the least he wants to sound like at that very moment is like a flirt. He takes a few pictures, investing himself in his work until he feels someone getting closer to him, short steps welcoming the warmth of someone that stands by his side as he does his work. “H-Hi.” is all she can manage to say, or all she thinks about, really. Johnny doesn’t have to look to imagine her flustered expression, the way her lips let out the tiniest of mumbles to talk to him. Dongyoung is invested in a conversation with her sister and he has time to talk to her. “Huh…I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a photographer.”

“I thought there were plenty in the city.”

Johnny smiles, biting his bottom lip and snapping his fingers to get the baby to look at him, holding a toy in the shades of beige and pink that could bring some depth to the picture. “Hug the plushie. Yes, that’s it!” He encourages the one-year-old and with one hand, he gives her a thumbs up before taking a picture. “None like me, I can assure you that.” He promises with a grin that has her smiling shyly at him. “How has it been for you these past three…months? Has it been three months since…you know?”

“It has.” She confirms. “I am on break currently, just…enjoying it.” Johnny nods his head, whispering the word ‘nice’ as he concentrates on his work. “What about you?”

“Taking pictures.” Johnny says the most obvious of answers and then, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. “Would you like some?”

“Take a mental picture first.” She replies cheekily and Johnny puts his camera down after taking the amount of pictures he was hired for.

“Oh, I have plenty.” Those words have her smile faltering slightly before growing in size, cheeks growing fuller with the way her eyes creak at the sound of his voice. His eyes rake up and down her body for a second, barely perceivable and soon after, he calls Dongyoung’s name. “Hey, we’re done here.”

“Joh—Johnny, we’re cool, right?” She asks, making the man in question look over his shoulder to finally stand face to face with the woman he grew fond of in one night, then kind of forgot about it, and one glance at her three months after brought back all those memories. The way they said their names to one another, the fondness, the kisses…no one would even dare to believe they had been lovers, but they had. Different in so many ways, yet fitting.

He shrugs his shoulders. “We are. Very much cool with one another.”

She nods. “Right.”

“Why?” He asks, voice low as he traces the outline of his big camera. “Do I still make you…nervous?”

Her eyes widen, she tries to hide her hands in the pockets of her jeans as a way of shielding herself. “Uh, ah…no.”

Johnny smirks, memories of the night they spent together filling his mind when he crosses his arms over his chest. “You sure?”

“Shut up.” She mumbles before looking over to where her sister is standing, holding her daughter in her arms. “Uh…I think I have to leave.”

“You’re always the one to leave.” Johnny is reminiscent of the night she had to leave, saying that she could not stay any longer because she had to drive back to the city to get ready for the class she had the next day. College is difficult, much more if you have to weight a job on top of that. “But I’ll take it—I’ll be abandoned again.”

She hisses. “Sorry.” It’s a whispered apology with one hand that touches his bicep, trotting over to where her sister is before waving at Johnny over her shoulder, leaving the store with a giggling little girl by her side.

Johnny smiles, because one glance at her is enough to revive the fire that was once there. Dongyoung, on the other hand, sees the glistening brown eyes of the man before raising an eyebrow. “Oh no,” He whines. “Don’t tell you had something with that one.”

With two fingers sliding across his lips as a way of showing that they are sealed before tossing the imaginary key to the side, he gives a response. “My lips are sealed.”

“…Oh my God, Johnny!”

And he wishes he can see her again, but for now, they are a little secret kept from reality.

Texting someone after a long time of not being in touch is the most difficult, if not headache-inducing, action someone could ever make. Nice, but wrong at the same time. Johnny thinks that triple texting is okay, but he finds himself out of words when he texts the woman he had met in his workplace only a month prior to that day. He had slept with her, sure, there was some kind of connection in between the two, or just some distance he needs to cut, trace and keep at that. Whether they are so close it is scary or so far away that they are basically strangers, he doesn’t know, but Johnny finally has a free Saturday and a new restaurant to try out, thanks to Ten’s advice and now, he needs someone to go with.

It is impressive, how she replies almost a few minutes later and he has a confirmation. It is as if the idea of a one-night stand doesn’t imprint in his brain. Johnny thinks one-night stands can last two nights, they can have a continuation, a sequel, some sequels are really good too—but at the same time, he knows that he is wrong. The title of a single man (ready to mingle or not) does not tie down to him, and he would like to be proud of that title if only he was not so…thrilled to go out on this date.

But Thai food is better with someone he actually enjoys talking to, and while the sex was incredible, her voice and her train of thought is what brings him back to a second date.

Is he fidgety? Not really, but he does try to look a bit less beach-y than he did on their last date. He may have her on a pedestal, for he is waiting outside of the restaurant only for her, ignoring the glances of people who cared about other’s lives more than theirs. Dressed to his own image of fashionable, with a denim jacket big enough to fit someone else inside and a rosiness to his lips thanks to the cold. White, denim and black, the fabrics and colors that match him that night and a smile that has yet to appear, but it will come with the woman he is waiting for.

The night is not painted in color rings, expensive dresses or even faux smiles. It feels genuine when she gets over to where he is, in a rush, like always, and wearing a shade of lip-gloss that makes him want to kiss her just at that moment. “Sorry I’m late. I am so stupid, my boss kept me back for some finishing touches and you know how he gets—” When she looks at him, she realizes that Johnny doesn’t mind, because fifteen minutes can’t hurt anyone.

Yet, Johnny is good with a pout, much more when it’s thrown her way. “Don’t know. I feel like that apology is half-assed.”

“Uh…it’s not.” She adds, bottom lip stuck in between her teeth and Johnny opens his arms slightly.

“Come here and show me just how sorry you are.”

She looks to the sides, widening her eyes and bringing her hands to rest on top of his chest as he brings her closer by the waist. “Joh—Oh my God, Johnny, don’t be so…shit.” She cusses, not knowing exactly how to describe him or what he makes her feel, but the man only gives her a smile and an eyebrow raise, one that she takes as a sign to finally give in. “Fine. A little peck is good for you?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, but the scent of his cologne surrounds her and his lips are pressing down to hers in the matter of seconds. Enough of a response to take her breath away. Anyone watching would believe that they are a couple, two birds starting to meet one another, creating peace at the sky, not minding the wind or the sun that will once be the rotten ending. When he pulls away, his hand is holding the back of her neck and his smile is enough to light up the world on fire. “Give me a hundred more pecks and we’ll be even.”

“Ah, shut up.” She pushes at his chest before grabbing his hand on hers, a wild card for what he expected from her, and with a little smile thrown over her shoulder, they enter the Thai restaurant. “You’re one for bringing me to good restaurants. What’s so good about this one?”

Johnny looks at her, lost in his thoughts, pondering if the only thing he wants to do is her, or spend his time with the woman that had captured his attention. There’s a thick line between sex and a crush—heck, they might mix but they should not, at least in the concept of flings. “My friend, Ten, told me it was good.”

“I’m starting to think this friend Ten is the mastermind behind our dates.”

“It’s all me, baby. I’m just stealing the rich boy lifestyle.” Johnny jokes and she lets out a chuckle, taking a seat by one of the tables. The decorations are not what he is interested in, although he takes in a lot of wood and rustic decorations, but his eyes are trained on the way she moves her hair away from her face, takes the menu that a waitress brings over before stealing a good glance at him over it. “Do I have something on my face?”

Flustered but with a smile, she looks down at the written menu. “No…”

“What are you looking at, if that’s what you’re doing?” Johnny asks, licking his bottom lip and ignoring her gaze when she finally stops looking at her menu.

“N-Nothing.”

Johnny nods his head, adding in a sing-song tune: “If you say so—”

“I’m…” There’s something deep within her that she doesn’t say, and Johnny has a smile on his face, so tranquil and sweet that she feels like her heart could explode right at that moment. There are words that are left untold, stories that have no developing, and people who never try, and maybe she is all three at once. “Nothing.” It’s how she finishes it before patting his hand over the table. “What are you going to eat?”

Inside Johnny’s head, he feels like he had already planned their second encounter. He wishes he expected it to be like the first, with a nice date and then enough attraction to finish it off properly, but there he is, having bites of Thai food as they talk about their lives and how they have been developing. She says she wants to change her job, try to do something else and stop working for the same people that have taken her in for the past few years. Johnny confirms that he thinks the same, and while taking pictures with Dongyoung has been something memorable, he wants a bigger job—somewhere where his photography skills are actually highlighted, where people would actually recognize his work in some way or another. He wants to travel the world with a camera in between his hands, see everything through a lens, but that is not what that night is about.

That night is about the realization that sure, Johnny started going out with her with the idea of sex, but there is more to her than just a body he wants for one night. It is in the way she speaks, how she reacts to him, how she makes the world a thousand times more likeable with just a smile. Now, Johnny is not one to believe movies when they claim that something from one night can turn into something else, but he can quite accept that he sees past her body whenever he goes out with her.

With only two dates, she already has him craving for more.

And it is stupid, how he finds an excuse to spend more time with her, and he says he wants to buy something sweet for her, ending up at a bakery nearby just to get her favorite pastries. As they walk around the crowded streets, trying to remember where he left his car and obviously confirming that he is going to take her home after that, thanks to her car being at the mechanic’s, Johnny realizes that he really enjoys spending time with her, and that is something that hadn’t happened since a long time ago. Past the flirting and the touchiness, there is something else. Maybe, strong. Maybe, as bland as water, but it is there. Johnny wants to call it the development of a crush, or the start of a nice friendship.

Yet, she had insisted on getting one of those lollipop rings that they used to have when they were children (“I used to take them to school because I thought they were cool,” Johnny said.), and Johnny is one to please, so as they stand near the Thai restaurant where everything started, he holds the lollipop ring in between his fingers and her hand with his free one. “Can’t believe you actually made me get one of these.”

“They were tasty in my memory. I am sure they are, still.”

“Yeah, and probably full of saliva.”

“Hey, I don’t drool that much!”

“I feel like I remember you drooling when you first looked at me.”

“I, uh, I—” She finds herself at a loss of words and soon after, she hits Johnny on his shoulder. “Stop flirting.”

“I can’t when you’re that cute!”

A gasp is heard soon after, a little bit broken at the end, and Johnny frowns at the idea of someone being surprised by their mere presence. The gasp sounded too close to not be for them. Once the two people in their date look over to the left, they realize an old—and adorable—woman is covering her mouth with her two hands, looking at the ‘couple’ with squinted eyes and a smile that creeps up her face. “Oh, my Darling! Someone’s proposing over here!” Johnny figures out that the elderly woman is at least a bit blind, squinting at the sight of a lollipop ring and Johnny putting it around his date’s finger.

His date is quick to speak up, however. “You’ve gotten it wr—”

But Johnny likes the attention, or making her flustered, so he gets on one knee in front of her while holding the lollipop ring, catching the attention of a few people who clearly are not aware that it is candy that he is ‘proposing’ with. “These past few years, honey, have been excellent with you.”

She hisses through her teeth. “Johnny,” She mumbles, eyes looking around the place to find the attention placed upon them. Can’t people just get closer so they can realize this is all Johnny’s fault?! “Get up, now.”

“Let me speak.”

“No.” She whines, but Johnny continues.

“I never thought I would have met the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Jimmy to my Sheen—” She wants to laugh at that, biting down on her bottom lip and letting a smile out. People probably think that she is smiling out of happiness, but she wants to hide at that exact moment. “So, for all these years, would you marry me?”

“…Oh my God.” She whispers before taking him by the bicep and bringing him up to his feet. “I guess. Let’s just leave.”

And the few people that had gathered are awestruck, maybe because she did not give the answer people expected, or because someone just proposed to his supposed ‘girlfriend’ with a lollipop ring, but after closing the doors to the car, Johnny lets out the biggest laugh and holds her thigh with his right hand. “That was so funny!” Johnny comments but the sight of her face shows otherwise, rolling her eyes before she feels him pressing his lips to hers sweetly, smiling throughout the process. “Come on, you know it was funny—and it wasn’t my idea, that old lady thought I was proposing.”

She chuckles, shaking her head before covering her face. “How embarrassing, Johnny!” She places her hand on top of his on her thigh before kissing the back of his hand. “You owe me one.”

“Owe you one?! I already proposed.”

“Shh, don’t talk.” Johnny nods his head before starting the car, pressing his lips together before she pinches his hand softly. “Hey, do talk. I was joking.”

“See?!”

“You’re annoying.”

That brings a smile to Johnny’s face.

With a straw in between his plush lips, taking a long sip from her canned soda, Johnny raises an eyebrow at her preposition. “Foosball?” He asks soon after, holding onto her waist to bring her close before nodding his head. “I’m in.”

Johnny doesn’t know how it happens. How the third date comes after the second, and how the second doesn’t even include something more than a few kisses in the front seat of his car. And sure, Johnny knows the world doesn’t rotate around physical attraction, but he is surprised that a Tinder match has gone as far as it does. Now it is a few weeks later, and Johnny is more than happy to be in front of her, preparing for a game of foosball as he watches her. All he needs to do is win so he can hear her pretty voice complaining about it.

But Johnny does score in the first try, and that earns a boisterous laugh from him and a scowl from her. “I give you some of my Coca Cola and you do this to me, really?” His heart aches the moment he hears those words, and it is not a bad type of ache—it makes him feel better, like a way his body has of telling him he’d do a lot of things to protect her. He particularly adores her voice, but he loves her expressions and reactions the most. “Ugh, Johnny—don’t score, don’t score—”

“Sorry, baby. Kind of have to win.” Johnny adds with a shrug of his shoulders and as they continue playing, he bites his bottom lip. “So,” He starts. “Why exactly did you accept going on a third date with me?”

He never hears it from her. They have been sexually together, they kiss whenever they feel like it and the flirting is always there, though kept a secret from those who know them personally. She knows that he likes her, but she has never been one to voice out what she exactly feels for the man whom she continues going on dates with. “…Just because.”

“Oh, really?” He asks. “You also deleted your Tinder just because?”

She looks at him, moving her arms frantically as they hear the sound of the TV going off in the background, mixed with voices from other people and a lot of noise. “…Don’t make me say it.”

“If I win, you have to say it.”

Feigning ignorance, she looks at him for a second. “Say what?”

“That you like me.” He confirms and she gasps at his words, running short on her own before responding.

“W-What…Why are you asking?” One would think that Johnny Seo would not be affected by someone acting nervous in front of him—not nervous, flustered, but he does get a little bit fidgety at the thought. It makes his heart race, to know that he has that power upon her when he feels slightly the same for her. If not completely. Her distraction is enough to have Johnny moving his hands quickly and scoring the last one out of three goals, making his date gasp as she takes her canned soda from his hands. “You are not having this, for being mean to me.”

Anyone who looked at them would think that they are a couple, as always, his hands wrapping around her waist and making her look around as he adds in a cheesy tone. “Come on, say it—”

“No.”

“It’s not like I don’t know.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a movement of his fingers, a chuckle leaves her lips and her hands end upon his chest, tugging him close but not really. Johnny has this kind of face that makes her feel safe, but it not fully his attractiveness and overall height that turns her into putty in front of him—it’s how he is, so lively, so chill, as if life is coated in paint and he patiently waits for the colors to dry. He knows how to have fun, just like how he takes that part out of her just to show her how beautiful life can be.

Really, it was unlike her to sleep with someone on the first date—and Johnny had changed that. He had always attracted her enough to make her take (not irrational decisions), but decisions that are very unlikely on being taken by her beforehand.

There’s always a sentence that starts a story, then there’s the first comma, the first dot, the continuation, the development…and there’s an end, but Johnny keeps adding on more paragraphs. One moment, she thinks it’s the end, the other, he’s back.

One moment, he is a one-night stand. The other, there’s something in this gaze…he, kind of, looks at her as if she means something more.

And she wants to mean something more, so she finally lets out a breath that she does not know she was holding before tilting her head to the side, blinking as if she is lost in thought, but it is more of a nervous tick. “I like you, too.”

What he does is stupid, how can’t it not be, he is the same guy that faked a proposal with a lollipop ring, but she did not expect him to throw a fist in the air before chuckling. “Hey, I finally got you to say it.”

She squints her eyes at that. “If you knew already, why ask me?”

She doesn’t get a response more than a fleeting touch to her waist, a peck on her lips and the promise of anything she wants to have for dinner. Johnny is not one to confess, but she knows it’s there, the promise of ‘perhaps, this will turn into something else’ and, she sure hopes it becomes a reality.

“Dongyoung?” Johnny asks with an empty can on his hand, watching as Dongyoung—whom is seated on the couch—jumps at the sound of his voice and hides his phone behind one of the cushions in the couch. Now, he knows Dongyoung and he can be a little bit jumpy, but he has never acted this way. “Did you eat my canned peas? I can’t find something to make for dinner and I was going to make this but—”

Dongyoung sighs out of relief, pushing the dark strands of his hair back before pressing a hand to his chest. “No, I didn’t. Jesus—”

“What are you doing? You’re super jumpy.” Johnny replies and Dongyoung widens his eyes, standing up from the couch with his phone in his back hand before replying.

“N-Nothing. I’m just going back to my room…”

But Johnny is quick, and messily into people’s business, so he takes Dongyoung’s phone from his hand, completely ignoring the male’s complaints. He unlocks his phone, knowing Dongyoung’s password like the palm of his hand before he is met by the sight of nothing more than the Tinder app. That one app that Ten tried time and time again to get Dongyoung into in the past, but somewhere along those lines of Dongyoung denying him, he had completely forgotten. “Dongyoung…you’re using Tinder?!”

“Don’t get into people’s business.” Dongyoung grumbles under his breath before taking his phone back into his hand. “I…” A look at Johnny’s smirking face lets him know that he is never going to live it down. “Listen, Ten gets to sleep around thanks to this app and you got a girlfriend. It must work for something!”

“Little Dongyoung wants to get laid.”

“N-No!”

“Aw, that’s sweet. I never thought you looked up at my relationship.”

Dongyoung rolls his eyes. “You know it wouldn’t have worked if your girlfriend wasn’t so nice.” He says and then, he clears his throat. “And Ten ate the canned peas.”

Johnny smiles at the thought of Dongyoung going through the same happenings that occurred after downloading Tinder. Maybe, Dongyoung will find the same luck as him, but for now, he really wants to call his girlfriend to get some takeout.

And maybe later, he will tell Dongyoung to take that Mariah Carey quote in his description away. No one will match him with that there.

[sabinefm]

( bruna marquezine , cis female , peach ) welcome to aida&stefano , SABINA REUBE ! thank you for choosing to stay here. in this form it says that you go by the SHE / HER , you’re TWENTY THREE years old , you’re originally from SAN FRANCISCO , and you’ve been staying here for ONE YEAR . it also says you’re known to be + RESOURCEFUL , but also - SELFISH. that really shouldn’t be a problem though. check in at the front , hope you enjoy your stay ! (the click of heels, hot sand under your bare feet, chocolate covered strawberries, the imprints a bra leaves on your skin, red lipstick staining your fingertips )

ABOUT THE MUN.  i hope this email never finds you 

hello all, my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything, ever in my life sdjkdskj this is especially true today, rip. no but honestly, i never thought i would actually get accepted into this beautiful rp so i stalled checking acceptances cause i’m a Scaredy Cat and that made me really late, and then i ended up taking the rest of my coworker’s shift cause she had to go and thus ended up coming home even later than i thought which has made me really really late... BUT against all the odds i’m here! and ready to party! and tell y’all about my bby sabina! but first a little bit about me, i am twenty four (ew), i can’t cook (rip), and i currently spend most of my lonely quarantine days either watching anime or scrolling through tiktok. i am canadian but every canadian that meets me thinks i’m american and i don’t know why. when i was a child i had an irrational (or yk very rational) fear of sharkboy from sharkboy and lava girl, and tbh it has never left me. i was also afraid of gill from kim possible so you can imagine my horror when that fish f*cking movie won an oscar?? when i was younger i also thot god looked like king triton from the little mermaid cause he was white and he had a beard yk. it fit in my little brain. and finally i just recently discovered girl in red and therefore feel like i finally got my bi girl card,,, feeling validated in this chillis tonight. and if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about me idk what will. anyways, that’s officially enough about me onto who we’re all really here for, ms sabine!

BIO.  the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it... astounding  tldr ; daughter of a guy who created a dating site + app, came to a&s after leaving her husband to be at the alter after catching him cheating with her mother, wants to be a bad bitch, sometimes succeeds. 

THEN.

sabina came into the world the child of a mediocre stay at home mom and a penniless entrepreneur so it goes without saying that she had very little. her dad had a lot of passion and a lot of drive but no one would really give him a chance, and her mother kind of only married the man because she was expecting him to make it big enough for her to never have to work another day in her life so? yeah she was hella disappointed tbh 

but not sabina! she looked up to her father so much as a child. while her mom was kind of ~emotionally unavailable~ her father was too, but like at least he had a dream he believed in, yk? he wanted to help people fall in love and sabine being the big romantic she was as a child had never heard of anything so noble. her daddy was her hero. sabina honestly had big daddy’s little girl vibes until she was like 22 tkjsdkjd

one day when their family credit card got rejected one too many times sabina’s mother called it quits on yk the whole mother gig. she left sabina on a bench outside of the grocery store while she went to go home and ‘get some cash’ which even at seven sabine knew was a damn lie cause they were too broke to have any damn cash. and yeah that was the last sabina heard of her for a long ass time. it was a reverse ‘dad went to get some cigarettes’ situation but just as traumatic honestly. 

although not as much for sabine’s dad. that man literally saw his wife leaving him as a minor setback and moved on. he threw himself harder into his work, to the point where sabine barely saw him. this was the start of sabine desperately trying to compete with her father’s business for even a sliver of his attention. this was a battle she usually lost. 

sabine raised herself for a while there, since her father yk remarried his job and her mother was following the jonas brother’s cross country. she became both very independent and very lonely for a child, which was an odd combination that both haunted sabine for pretty much the rest of her life after that point and lead her to make most of her worst decisions. but that’s a story for another time, because right when all hope was lost sabine’s father won the lottery. literally. 

all at once they were five million dollars richer. they went from nothing to everything real quick. and this marked a change in the reube’s lives in a way sabine couldn’t have even imagine at the time. 

sabine’s father hector used the money to fund his business and that shit blew up! he created a site by the name of loveisblind that was in the ring with the likes of match.com and christianmingle yk, one of those dating sites. everyone on loveisblind is set up on blind dates based on the information they fill out on their profile and are only allowed to see each other when they reach a certain point of emotional intimacy. the site had wild success rates, and got very popular, blah, blah, the point was the reubes? suddenly rich af!

and you think that would give hector more time to spend with his daughter right? no. it gave hector the money to hire nannies for his daughter. 

yes, somehow despite hector no longer having to work himself to the bone, sabine saw him even less. tragic really. she really became that lonely rich girl trope real quick, and this is what unfortunately got sabine into the habit of seeking the attention she wasn’t getting from her father in other men and women, which she is not proud of. 

that unfortunately didn’t fill the void that sabine had but you know what did? making the loveisblind app so her daddy would love her. basically around the time that tinder started gaining traction and getting popular, people stopped going on the loveisblind site and started instead turning to apps. her father was trying and failing to get into that market, and sabina, being yk, actually a lot more intelligent than her father ever gave her credit for, created the app for his site and pitched it to him over his lunch one day. it was honestly one of the first times sabina can remember her father really paying attention to her in the longest time. it was also the proudest she’s ever seen him. 

the app was a big success! a whole new generation was using it and finding love, including one ms sabine reube. in the early days of the app launch sabine met her prince charming, christopher ‘kit’ johannson. he swept her right off her feet, and she fell HARD, and when they debuted their relationship it wasn’t long until they kind of became the face of the app?? like sabine’s father was the creator after all, the fact that his daughter found love on the app too was big news for a while. people followed their relationship and strived for something like that for themselves. sabine didn’t know it at the time but they were basically a walking advertisement, and her father was LIVING for that.

fast forward a bit and your girl went to yale for computer engineering and business (did her daddy’s status and money ease the way? maybe man, nepotism am i right) whilst kit went to harvard, they were long distance for a bit before they graduated and kit very publicly proposed (the whole thing was well recorded too, gotta get that gram), and then both sab and kit moved in together and both started working for their families respective companies. it was around then that sabine started to understand just how much and how often kit was cheating on her. it was a real wakeup call. 

sabine ended up breaking down to her father about her suspicions, and he basically ended up telling her to suck it up and think of the business. the fact was sabine and kit, the face of their new generation and one of the first successful couples from the app getting married and living happily ever after was amazing for the company. and the two of them calling the whole thing off just because of a little infidelity just wasn’t going to cut it. 

now once again, this is where sabine’s deep desire to be loved and accepted really bites her in the ass. this was one of the first times sabine’s father had ever really asked her for anything so... she did it. or at least she did her best to do it. she lasted until the wedding day around the time where she caught kit and her own mother (who she only invited out of a deep rooted need to actually know the woman who gave birth to her again) going at it in the coat closet of their wedding venue. yeah, at that point sabine pretty much snapped, blacked out, smashed a whole wedding cake over kit’s head, and took their honeymoon to venice on her own. she arrived at Aida&Stefano with running mascara in a ruined wedding dress trying to ask about a honeymoon suite. it was a whole mess, but you know what so is sab so at least she was on brand. 

NOW.

after sabina arrived she spent about a week mourning her failed almost-marriage and yk, destroyed family before she decided to fuck it all and reinvent herself. she desperately wanted to become someone new, someone unrecognizable from who she was before, even if it was only on the inside. so she cut her hair (the first step to every transformation) hardened everything soft about herself and made the irrevocable decision to become a bad bitch. she (mostly) succeeded. kind of. 

sabine basically curb stomped out the soft, hopeless romantic people pleaser in her and decided to become someone more unsympathetic. someone who puts her own needs first instead of burning herself up to keep others warm (cause what good has that ever done her before?). someone who people would be afraid to hurt but who wouldn’t even feel pain anyways. and to sum it up that person is a heartless bitch. or at least she tries to be.

i’m gonna stop here because this is already a lot longer than i wanted it to be and i haven’t even got to the other sections yet rip but you get the point i feel

PERSONALITY.  *feels nothing* mmm, don’t like that *feels something but like too much* mmm not a fan of that either 

most of this is tbd because i’m still developing her but

VAIN. the kind of girl who will file her nails or check herself out in the mirror while you’re talking to her. will reapply her lipstick in the rearview mirror of her car while she’s driving. checks herself out in any reflective surface, i mean i would too if i looked like bruna but Still 

KIND. even though sab tries to be a hard ass she’s probably the most loyal, generous, kind person you would ever meet deep down. like she puts on this persona of being heartless, but if anyone needs her she will be there for them. kind of hates that she’s such a softie sometimes but she can’t help it. 

EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE. doesn’t want to be hurt again and will do pretty much anything to avoid that. tries to keep people at arms length especially romantically. loves making friends though, and will indeed spoil them. 

HEADCANNONS.  who wants to hire me as their maid i’m not gonna clean im just gonna wear a cute maid outfit dust like 6 things and bend down a lot

has the vibes of that drunk rich aunt that’s always smoking like sexily as she looks far into the distance and wears like a super luxurious coat. will gossip with you. will buy you things your mom won’t. will cuss out your toxic father at the dinner table. that’s her energy.

unfortunately actually does smoke. i hate 

okay fun fact, the only reason sabine went to university for computer programming and business was because she felt her father wanted her to. she honestly has no real passion for the subject and just wanted to use her talent to make her father as proud of her as he was on the day she debuted that app to him. but now that making daddy proud isn’t like the only thing occupying her entire brain sabine like is like ??? wait what do i actually want to do with my life ??? and it took her a while to figure it out but after a while she fell back on one of her passions, art. she’s actually making a graphic novel aimed towards young adults about a modern day hades and persephone vibe, kind of about a girl who falls in love with the grim reaper and the lengths she goes to to chase after her (yes it is a Lady Reaper) into the depths of hell,,, it’s wild. she’s very proud of it but also kind of shy about it tbh. her go to critic is georgio, because she knows that little shit will be honest and yk what she respects that. 

but when it comes to making actual money your girl turns to cam work most of the time, because well. at the very least it’s quick, easy, and semi discreet. and sometimes she gets something out of it too. she figures it’s a win win, and she’s been doing it for about a year now, mostly because she absolutely refuses to use any of her father’s money. 

is allergic to cucumber. 

has a different 'relationship’ like every week or so, along with a few one night stands peppered in. unfortunately still attracted to people who are bad for her (kit for example was an asshole and a cheater and DEFINITELY conservative like she messed up on that one), but is also very afraid of falling in love again and letting herself get hurt, so she normally doesn’t let things last too long before she starts self sabotaging. 

if you ever catch sabine with like... her nails growing out or her nail polish chipped, something is wrong. like something is deeply wrong. sabine will have her nails done in the middle of the apocalypse, the only reason they would be less than perfect is if she is having a breakdown. always has colour on her nails, and usually it’s a shade of red, purple, or black. 

always has wild ass stories to tell about her tinder dates or one night stands and will tell them without shame for your entertainment. is a great storyteller honestly, a talent she got from her mother but she doesn’t want to admit that. 

fun fact, her mother mariah was PISSED when hector got rich AFTER she left him and tried for years to sue him or something but no dice. she was so angry and vengeful over the whole thing that she took the opportunity of being invited to her daughters wedding to get back at her husband where it hurt, his business. thus sleeping with kit. didn’t really think about how her daughter might feel about the whole thing because she was yk blinded by rage, but that’s just how mariah is so i mean,,, rip sabina. 

shops when she’s sad, or happy, or angry, or confused sdkjdsj will use any excuse to shop, and at this point she has more clothes than she knows what to do with. her style can be kind of out there at times, but she will let you borrow things though. 

she has a cat named momo. yes that is inspired by her being the peach skeleton. also has a parrot named poe i think. i also have the urge to give her a snake but... i will resist. so sabine wants a snake for sure 

her favourite colours are black and red

she is a horrible terrible driver. don’t drive with sabine unless you’re an adrenaline junkie or like want to die tbh 

her dad 100% set up the relationship between kit and sabine as a pr stunt, but sabine doesn’t know that yet and when she finds out her father used her like that ooh boy things are gonna get wildt. as it is now sabine just thinks she disappointed him and it’s kind of eating her alive. half the reason she’s staying here is because she doesn’t want to face him or yk her old life anymore. her father is so caught up in the shame she caused him that he hasn’t even tried to call her after the whole thing and the one time sabine got hella drunk and called him all he did was tell her what a disappointment she was and ask when she was coming back to work so we love ~parenting~

WANTED CONNECTIONS. girls will “🥺🥺🥺🥺” their way out of everything

close friends please and thanks, best friends also please, uh, can i get some awkward one night stands that avoid each other at all cost, can i get a neighbour who’s ear sabine is always talking off in the hallway between their rooms even tho they just want to go home but can’t because sabine is Oversharing, maybe a flirtationship, but also i would love an enemy (it could be for a ridiculous reason or a completely valid reason but either way please give it to me), someone she goes out dancing/partying with at piccolo, a sibling like relationship, a confidante, someone who she trusts to read her comic and maybe even do some linework, and absolutely anything else okay my brain is fried rn but i want it all! please like this and i will slip and slide into your dms <3

[ehstarwar]

by chance or natures changing course (1/1)

Dating had never been an area where Rey excelled.

And it had been made unfathomably harder when she met a certain Mr. Darcy-esque man. Her beautiful, sweet, unattainable roommate, Ben.

-

Based on @reylo_prompts: Rey joins tinder after a long long dry spell due to her flatmate Kylo’s derision, they argue about why and in a fit of jealousy Kylo screams out ‘use me instead”.

-

Rating: Explicit 

Word Count: 5.4K

Read on AO3

A/N: thank you to @reylo_prompts for this amazing spark of inspiration!! we stan two (2) idiot space babes who just wanna get freaky ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

-

The echo of her footsteps in the hallway is loud even to her. She’s not stomping, she’s sulking. Shitty Date #7 is only one in a never ending list of spectacularly awful experiences Rey has been forced to endure as of late. 

#7 was late, a picky eater, of the ‘forgotten his wallet’ variety, had breath that smelled suspiciously of rotten eggs, and had STILL attempted to get her to come home with him. Rey would have loved to utilize the feminine rage that had accumulated through a life of womanhood, but her kind demeanor still prevailed. A meek ‘oh, I can’t! I’ve got an early start tomorrow!’ was given and semi-accepted before shuffling off to the bus station before he could give the whole ‘we should do this again’ spiel. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

Not as disappointing as #2 who had been an excellent candidate up until she found out he was the head of the Young Republicans of Chandrilla or #5 who didn’t show up until the movie was halfway over and at the rest of her popcorn. 

Dating had never been an area where Rey excelled. 

And it had been made unfathomably harder when she met a certain Mr. Darcy-esque man, who liked to cook, to clean, to debate her favorite TV shows until they’re both blue in the face, went to the gym and didn’t post about it, actually tipped when ever they went out to eat, used better shampoo than any female in her life. Her beautiful, sweet, unattainable roommate, Ben.

Ben, who didn’t even flinch when she closed the front door too hard or tugged her scarf off with too much force. He just continued standing over the pot on the stove, rhythmically stirring whatever was creating a delicious aroma though the house.

“You’re back early,” He states, still not turned. Rey humphs indignantly and sits at the bar, watching him work.

“A dud,” She says, “an utter dud.” Rey can see the muscles in his back shift and she just knows he’s smirking.

“Someone probably should have warned you about that.”

Rey sighs and rolls her eyes. “Just because Kaydel suggested I go out with him does not warrant suspicion. She has impeccable taste with her boyfriends!”

Ben adds a bit of a spice she cannot pronounce before taking the pot off the stove to cool. When Ben turns around he’s wearing the smirk Rey knew he would be, and a dish cloth tossed over his shoulder like he’s the young, innovative chef at a restaurant that will gain tons of clout on instagram. 

“Kaydel’s boyfriends are always top notch because she keeps the good ones for herself. If she sets you up with a guy that has even the possibility of being worthy, it will have been a missed opportunity for her. So,” He gestures, “you get the scraps she doesn’t want.”

“Kaydel is not that cold hearted.”

“She’s an opportunist; it’s different.”

Rey sighs. Ben wordlessly grabs too bowls from the cabinet and pours each of them a generous helping of what looks to be tomato soup. Rey doesn’t have to have a bite to know it’s delicious.

-

They eat in relative silence before making their way to the couch. Rey only kicks off her ‘fancy shoes’, still clad in her date attire, but Ben is wearing his daily uniform but still looks like he could’ve walked right out of a Ralph Lauren spread. It would be more infuriating if he weren’t so good to look at.

They watch some inane comedy that neither of them particularly enjoy the content of, but rather the vicious comments they can make on individuals lives that will in no way affect the world around them. 

“That hair looks like it’s come straight from the 80’s.”

“He must have really stretched his resume when he added ‘singer’ on there.”

“I make more in a day than what they clearly spent on their entire CGI budget.”

It’s a good way to unwind and get out all the venom without actually damaging anything. On occasion, there is a seemingly bad movies that actually end up giving the small bit of joy and thoughtfulness that makes them actually enjoy it for the content, but those are less fun. 

But this particular movie does give Rey a devious idea. 

“I should do that,” She say, after a few minutes of silence. Ben continues to watch, but does look confused.

“Do what?” He questions.

“Get Tinder. Try to find a good lay the up-to-date way.” 

Ben immediately shifts to glare at her. 

“Do be unreasonable.” 

Rey faces him, confused.

“Unreasonable?” She repeats. 

“You don’t need Tinder.” Ben turns back to the TV and adjusts his sitting position. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve been made aware, but I’ve just been on the worst dating trend I’ve ever been on since I’ve started dating! In all honesty, it’s a little unreasonable I’m not already on there!”

Ben scoffs. “Tinder is finding someone to fuck, not to date. There are too many weirdos who just assume its for hook-ups.”

“There are plenty of weirdos out there already! I’ve even been on dates with them! I can handle a few creeps on an app.”

“At least the guys you’ve gone out with have been known and recommend by friends, so they’re not total strangers. You meet a guy off a dating app and there’s no way to make sure he’s who he says he is.”

“I’m not gonna end up on Catfished, Ben. There are plenty of normal men looking for a quick romp before being on their way, and this may be the path I use to find them.”

Ben dramatically rolls his eyes before standing up and stalking into the kitchen. Rey quickly follows him, determined to get to the bottom of his reluctance of her plan for some unknown reason.

“Why don’t you think getting Tinder is a good plan, give me an honest answer,” She asks him once they’re in the kitchen together. Ben has started clearing their plates and cleaning them in the sink with more force than necessary. 

“I’ve just given you my reason, I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” He scoffs, making Rey see red.

“It’s not a good reason, but whatever. If you think friend recommendations are so much better than Tinder, then tell me who you choose.” Rey all but stomps her foot as she glares at Ben who has his eyes trained on the soapy water in the sink.

“I don’t have any good recommendations,” He says through gritted teeth.

“That’s ridiculous, Benjamin. You work for First Order! It’s practically bursting with young, ambitious men who I just know would be down for a one night stand!”

“The people who work at First Order are monsters,” Ben says. A hard scrub on one of the bowls makes a splash of water drench his shirt and get soap in his hair that had fallen in his eyes.

“What about Armie? What about you? Do you really think you’re a monster?” She practically shouts at him. 

Ben’s head snaps up. “Yes I am.” He says it with such conviction that part of Rey’s heart aches.

It’s clear that this conversation has devolved into something much deeper and Rey isn’t sure either of them are in the right head space to continue down the path before them. Instead, Rey opts to roll her eyes and lift her arms in defeat. 

“You’re not a monster, Ben but you are a bit of a dumbass. All I want is to get fucked to relieve some of the tension that has clearly infiltrated this conversation, and you can’t even offer one measly name up to help you ‘best friend’ out. I just don’t have-”

“Just use me!”

The air in the house stills. 

Rey stands in the middle of the kitchen, feeling a bit in shock, staring back at Ben who seems equally surprised. He doesn’t speak any more, not to take back or clarify or say ‘ha! made ya look!’

They stand there, in silence, letting the words hang in the balance. 

“…What?” Rey finally asks, voice light and low and for a moment she’s not sure he even heard her.

“Use me. If you want,” He says, still not moving.

Rey has to avert her eyes, because looking at Ben right now is too much. Ben, who cooks her food when she comes home from a bad date. Ben, who covers her part of the rent when money is too tight and never asks her to pay him back. Ben, who is so beautiful it hurts to look at but still somehow believes he’s a monster. Ben, who just offered himself up to Rey on a silver platter after she spent the better part of the last 10 minutes yelling at him.

“For sex?” She asks redundantly.

“For sex.” he responds. 

Rey picks at her finger nails, eyes still downcast. 

“Rey,” The way he says her name feels different now and makes her look up, “do you want that?” Ben is good at hiding his emotions, aways shrouded behind a mask of indifference or anger. Right now, his face seems impassive as he waits for her to respond, but Rey can tell there’s fear there. It’s subtle, and Rey may be the only person in the galaxy to recognize its presence, but it’s there.

She nods. A small breath of relief escapes his lips. 

Ben resumes washing the dishes, confusing Rey. She stands there, looking at him putter around the kitchen until it’s clean enough for his standsrds, then walks right past her and down the hall. Like a new puppy, she follows him, trailing him and stopping at his door that he’s walked into. 

It’s open and Ben sitting on the edge of the bed removing his shoes. Rey stands awkwardly in the doorway, not trusting her voice enough to ask him what was going on. 

She looks at his bed, large and imposing (much like it’s owner), and a new sensation trickles down her spine. He’s going to fuck me on this bed she thinks. It’s only then she notices how the anticipation just from the last few minutes has made her… damp. 

“Rey, are you going to come in?” He asks her, standing again. 

“Do you want me to?”

He smirks.

“Get on the bed.” It’s a command, not a question. She does as he says, pulling herself on her knees in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed. She stares back at Ben as he watches her climb. When she stills, he speaks again.

“What are you comfortable with?” He asks. Rey bites her lip as she tries to think of anything Ben could do to her now that she wouldn’t welcome with open arms. She comes up blank.

“Anything.”

He cocks his head as he appraises her, making Rey feel like her skin is on fire and the wetness in her underwear become significantly greater.

“Anything?” He repeats. She nods. “Then why don’t you tell me what need me to do to you.”

“I need you to fuck me,” She says without hesitation, gaining a small chuckle from him.

“That much I know. What else?” He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, leaving his chest bare and still slight damp from where the water splashed on him. Her mouth goes dry. “Use your words, Rey,” He chides as he goes to unbuckle his belt.

“Your fingers…” She begins as she watches the digits maneuver with elegance out of the metal belt buckle.

“What about them?” He asks as his pants fall and he steps out of him. Only his underwear is left now, and Rey can see the more than impressive bulge held behind the black material.

She thinks of the dildo she invested a whole months worth of income in that she theorized was the exact size of him. She was wrong. 

“I want you… to get me off. With your fingers. And your…” Her cheeks flame as she is unable to finish the sentence. 

“Say it, Rey.”

“I want you to get me off with… your cock.” 

Ben looks all too smug for being the least dressed in the room. She can see the thrill of satisfaction he got from hearing her words and it in turn thrills her as well. His eyes rake over her again and she’s suddenly self conscious. 

“Take off your dress,” He says. She follows instantly, tossing it to the side of the room, leaving her only in a bra, panties, and stockings. They’re black and sparkly and Rey hopes it makes her look more enticing to him. 

Ben’s hand grabs her by the ankle when she’s done, and gently pulls her closer to the edge of the bed, where he still stands. 

“So… my fingers, my cock… what about my mouth?” He asks, using his pointer finger to trace up her leg, over her hips and stomach, around her pert nipple that sticks out through the fabric, and up to her chin.

“That too.”

“Where?” He whispers, lowering his face right in front of hers.

“Anywhere,” She breaths. 

His lips connect with hers in the next breath. Soft, chaste kisses, planted neatly on her lips as her arms come up to his shoulders. She pulls him closer as he deepens the kiss, tongue slipping into her mouth with no resistance. Ben kisses her like he’s dependent on it to breathe, like his whole existence was conjured so that he could be in this exact position. There is teeth clashing and nose bumping but it only make the kiss that much hotter. 

He guides her further onto the bed, pulling her up with him as he spreads out above her. Her legs have parted naturally, letting him slot between her. She feels the warm boxer fabric rub against the tension of her stocking and wishes that he’d told her to get naked. She whines into his mouth, but he swallows it up.

His hands go to the elastic of her stocking and attempt to pull them off her legs. They’re hard to get off when you’re full attention in on them, but now it seems impossible. They catch on the swells of her hips before Ben tears them off her.

Oh well, she think, they would’ve gotten a run in them anyways. 

His hands run up and down her legs, palms nearly encompassing a whole thigh in one. His lips move to the column of her throat, planting wet, hot kisses down to her chest. Rey lies boneless beneath him, letting Ben do what he wills. His thumb traces the crotch of her panties suddenly, making her jump. Ben shushes her as his body comes over hers like a weighted blanket.

His fingers tease her soaked undergarments, making Rey whine for more. She arches into him when his hand falls away, and she chases his touch.

“Ben…” She cries, sounding pathetic even to her own ears. 

“Hmm?” He makes a noise into her chest as his tongue traces the outline of her nipple through the scrappy material of her bra. 

“Want… more… said you’d… fuck me…” She mewls. All at once, Ben pulls back from her, but keeps his hands on her torso, holding her down.

“And you greedy little thing said you wanted my fingers and my cock.”

Rey full on pouts, using everything in her arsenal for this one.

“Then why haven’t you given me one of them?” The smugness from Ben’s face drops as his lips crash on hers. Rey feels his hand go to cup her core before ripping off her underwear just like her stockings.

Well… they were impractical anyways.

Fingers trace her folds, always managing to avoid brushing over her clit with a precision that is making Rey crazed. She’s about to chide him, taunt Ben for not giving her what she’d been promised when he sticks one into her the same time his thumb pushes on her clit. Rey has to bite the inside of her cheek from screaming too loud. 

“So wet for me… dripping all over yourself like a little whore…” He says. Rey could cry. How does this man know the right buttons to push? How can he say exactly the right thing that makes Rey loose it? She can’t think of how he knows she likes this because he’s pushing in a second finger just behind the first.

Ben moans against her lips. “If two is a stretch… my cock might ruin you.”

“Please,” She begs, “… want you to ruin me.”

Ben grunts as he works faster, rocking her on his fingers just like it would be if he was fucking her. Just like it would be when he’s fucking her. He’s promised, hasn’t he?

Rey feels all the tell-tale signs of an approaching orgasm, in significantly less time than it takes for her to get herself there. It would be a little humiliating if it didn’t feel so. fucking. good. 

“You’re gonna be a good little whore for me… right? You’re gonna… you’re gonna come all over daddy’s hand? Hmmm?” He questions into her skin. Rey’s nails dig into the meet of his shoulder, brought to the brink of nirvana when she hears the name.

“Yes… Yes daddy… gonna be so good… good for you..” Her voice is breathless and light and her body feels like a live wire. His thumb works incessantly on her, and when the third finger breeches her opening, Rey is lost.

Her hands grip any part of Ben they can find purchase on, her chest bowing into his, head thrown back and eyes closed in ecstasy. Her body trembles beneath his, but his fingers still push into her in a rhythmic pattern. He works her through it, muttering praises and endearments like ‘so good for daddy’ or ‘take what you need sweetheart.’

Rey thinks this must be what it feels like the first time you experience a hard drug. An addiction blooms in her body with the first taste, and she hasn’t really even touched Ben yet. 

Ben lays her on the bed, adjusting her so that she’s on a pillow and her hair is fanned out. Rey feels her cunt pulse, and knows that despite her organs, her body is no where near done. Ben looks like he feels the same.

His hands massage her body, running from the tips of her toes to her hair line. When his paws come up to the only piece of fabric still adorning her body, Rey places her hands on his.

“No these, please… bra’s are hard to find…” Rey tells Ben. While he seems displeased that he’s not able to display another manly bravado of ripping more clothes off her, he does resign himself to reaching under her, unhooking the fabric, and guiding her out of the bra. When he tosses it off the bed, Rey snatching his hand and brings it to her mouth, placing sloppy kisses on it in lieu of thanks.

The scratchy material of his boxers rubs agains the side of her thighs, where he’s resting between, remind them both that there’s one more thing to shed. Ben looks at her, waiting for something, but Rey keeps laving his hands with her wet kisses.

Something grows dark in his eyes when he speaks again.

“If we do this…” he starts, “it can’t be undone.” It’s a loaded statement that is able to say so much with so little. A talent of Ben’s that Rey will forever be in awe of.

“I know,” She whispers against his skin. 

Whatever he was waiting for, that must have been it. Ben quickly stands, rids himself of his boxers and climbs right back between her legs, like he never left at all. 

If his cock was impressive though his underwear, it was a damn knock out without them. Rey really doesn’t mean to stare, but my god, Ben is packing. 

“A stretch?” She questions, eyes lifting to his. Ben nods. Rey gulps.

Her hand tentatively reaches out, fingers tracing the light dusting of a happy trail that leads to him. He’s hard, achingly so. Tip red and angry and Rey wants so badly to suck him, but she knows that’s not what tonight is. Her fingers gently tap on his head, feeling the small drops of precome gathered there, watching the tacky fluid stick between her fingertips. 

Ben’s hand goes to wrap around his base, holding himself as his cock twitches beneath her touch. 

“You can play with it, or I can fuck you,” Ben challenges her.

“Not both?” Rey teases.

“Not right now.”

She leans back, looking up at Ben and admiring him like he had been able to do so much. She considers herself, debating whether pulling him to orgasm with her hand the same way he did to her would be as satisfying as him doing the thing that brought them here in the first place. She decides that not right now will mean that later tonight she can have her fun, so she opts for the second option.

“You did say you’d fuck me.”

“I did.”

“I think you should do that… for now.”

Ben grins. His hands dart out to her hips and pull her around so that she’s on her stomach, ass pushed in the air. The sudden movement causes the air to be knocked out of her lungs, but it would’ve escaped anyways when his palm strikes her ass. 

“That’s for making me wait,” He tells her. Rey can’t help to moan when she feels his palm go to soothe the reddened skin. She pushes her ass towards him, hoping that he’ll take the hint.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for daddy? You’re gonna let me fuck you full of my come?” He says. Rey bites a pillow as she just barely refrains spinning around, shoving him back and dropping down on his cock. 

“Words, sweetheart,” Ben reminds her.

“Yes!” She squeaks out. “I’ll be a good girl for you, daddy… please just- just-”

“Tell me,” He says as she feel’s his cock trace her outer folds. Her hips angle back trying to make him enter her.

“… Please fuck me, daddy.”

Ben pushes into her as soon as the words leave her mouth. He’s slow, letting her adjust to him when he finally bottoms out. Rey bites into the pillow even harder. She can hear Ben’s pants above her and can feel the tension in his hands that now hold her hips.

“… Tell me when you’re good, baby.” Ben sounds as breathless as she’s sure she would if she had the capability of speech at the moment. Ben is deathly still within her, but Rey adjust and wiggles herself, earning choked moans and growls from him. 

“Good, daddy… so good,” She finally says, earning a sigh of relief from Ben as he instantly begins to move. His hips rock into hers, shallow at first, before setting a steady pace. She mewls beneath him, trying to move her hips to meet his in time. 

Ben falls forward, chest falling onto her back, and his mouth going to her shoulder. Rey snakes a hand up towards his head, fingers curing themselves though his hair. His mouth kisses and bites at her shoulder as his hip begin to move harder, making a slapping sound with every thrust. 

“You’re gonna… come for me, okay? You gotta come on me, baby. I gotta know what it feels like,” He mumbles on her skin. Rey nods as her other hand goes to hold over his on her hip, and guide it to her center, just above where his cock is sliding into her. Ben instantly gets the message, finger dexterously going to circle at her clit.

Rey feels her knees shake with effort as his cock moves so deeply within her. He’s the biggest she’s ever had, ever will have, and he reaches parts inside of her Rey wasn’t sure existed. His whole body rest above her, not crushing her, but holding her. Making her feel safe within his embrace so that he could do whatever he wanted to. The feeling of being under Ben as pounds into her is delicious and exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Her head is such a mixture of emotions and ecstasy that Rey almost doesn’t recognize the orgasm as it approaches her. She gasps when she realizes that the tingling sensation starting to spark at her fingertips mean that she’s nearing the peak again. 

“Daddy… Ben… I’m… I’m gonna…”

“I know, Rey. I need to feel it, please. Come on me, baby, please…” Ben begs. 

Her whole body clenches when she comes, forcing Ben to make a choking sound at the sensation of her cunt squeezing the life out of his cock. He comes almost in time with her, spilling hotly within her. He grunts and holds her as tightly as possible as he pumps the last of himself within her.

Rey can feel the sweat of their bodies coating her back, but she feels his face rest on her upper back and plant kisses along her spine. It seemed almost too intimate of a moment for her brain to process, and she’s almost grateful that she wasn’t eating Ben come. Seeing that while feeling it would throw Rey off a cliff she didn’t even know she’d climbed.

They hold their positions for a moment, letting Ben give the rest of his come to her waiting cunt. Rey feels his hands move again, maneuvering them to lay on their sides, Ben still firmly planted within Rey.

His hands stroke her sides as their breathing returns to normal. 

Rey can’t remember a time when she ever felt this safe after sex. Like there was no where else in the world Ben wanted to be other than right here. It was intoxicating.

After a while, she’s worried he’s fallen asleep (or that she would if she remained sedentary any longer), so she calls out for him softly.

“Ben?”

“Hm?” The vibrations from his voice reverberate down her spine.

“Are you awake?” She asks.

“… Yeah.” She can hear the small smile in his voice.

“Good… I didn’t want to wake you when I…” She trails off, trying to think of a not-gross way to phrase this.

“When you got off my dick and let my come spill out of you?” He provides. Despite what they’ve just done, Rey blushes.

“Yeah.”

Ben adjust them so that she’s back on her front, and he’s sitting on his haunches. He slowly pulls out his softening cock, and Rey clenches hard so that the mad rush of fluids don’t coat his bedspread. There’s also a small voice inside her head thats saying ‘he want’s you to keep it’ but Rey totally ignores it. 

“Stay,” Ben commands, getting up from the bed. She ears the flick of a light switch, the running of water, before he comes back getting back onto the bed, and stroking her puffy core with a warm cloth.

Rey relaxes as he cleans her, stroking her cunt with such care and kindness, you almost wouldn’t believe he was the one pounding into it with abandon not so long ago.

She feels him get off the bed again to dispose of the cloth before sliding next to her and practically holding her body up to turn her. He settles them down, him lying on his back with Rey draped over one side of him, legs spread between one of his. Her head lies in the crook of his neck, hand holding onto his chest and his plays with the ends of her hair on her back. 

They lay like this is what they do every night. With such normalcy and established routine that makes Rey’s chest feel fuzzy. There is a gnawing question on her mind, so she’s asks him before he actually does fall asleep.

“How did you know what I was into? I mean… some of it’s pretty common but others are… not,” She says, fingers tracing the muscles in his chest.

“You read fan fiction in public settings, including on our couch, beside me. I didn’t have to pry too hard,” Ben tells her. His voice vibrates though his whole body, making her buzz in a delicious way.

“… I didn’t know you could see that…” She mumbles. Ben laughs lightly.

“It has been very… informative.” Rey scoffs, making him laugh further. When the settle down and the silence returns, Rey can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue. 

“Ben?” She asks.

“Yeah?”

“You can ask me anything, you know.”

More silence.

“… Is this… something you wanted? You can be honest,” He tells her.

“I think I’m actually the one who asked you, if I recall correctly.”

“No, I mean… with me. I know I wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for tonight and I-”

Rey shoots up to look at Ben. It’s the first time he’s been below her all night, and Rey is able to stare down at his breathtakingly beautiful face, glowing in the moonlight. He’s beautiful to her, always is and aways will be, but there’s a vulnerability in his face right now that makes Rey realize that she’s in control right now. That this is one of those life-altering moments that will inevitably change the world in ways she can’t fathom depending on what she does.

“I may have hoped for something else in the beginning,” Rey starts, “but, Ben, you’re exactly what I wanted.”

The smile that breaks across his face melts Rey and she knows she’s made the right choice. 

-

Brunch is never a dull affair with their friend group. They keep it interesting with gossip or life-changing announcements or the occasional group activity. This particular brunch Ben and Rey are attending is par for the course, going smoothly at the groups favorite eatery in Chandrila. Rose, Hux, and Kaydel are currently arguing over which breakfast carb is superior, pancakes or waffles. Phasma is checking emails while flawlessly being able to keep up with every conversation at the table. Poe, Finn, and Jannah are discussing if the couple two tables over is breaking up or just fighting. 

It’s the normal routine for everyone. 

Except, of course, Ben and Rey. 

They’re sitting next to each other, which my itself isn’t totally unusual, but instead of Rey wishing she was the fork Ben grasps so tightly or the glass that gets to feel the plushness of his lips, she’s content where she it. Ben has his hand holding onto her upper thigh, just teasing at the hemline with his finger tips. His shoe knocks into hers, calves brushing together. 

They’re sitting so close, she can feel the heat radiating off his body. She’ll blame that for the blush staining her cheeks. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Kaydel suddenly squeals, making Rey stop mid bite of her waffle/pancake/french toast combination that Ben said was ‘ungodly.’ “Rey, I totally forgot, but how was your date the other night with… um, what’s his name…” She tries to think of #7’s name. It takes Rey an embarrassing amount of time to remember it herself. 

“Ugh, you mean Snap? It went… alright, I guess,” She tells the table, now all eyes on her. Ben squeezes her thigh harshly for a moment. 

“Oh, you poor thing!” Kaydel says. “He seemed like such a nice guy. Why didn’t it work out?” She questioned further. Rey didn’t have to look at Ben to know he was smirking.

“Um, I was… he just… not my type, ya know?” Rey deflects. 

“Then what is your type? I’m sure Kaydel would like to know so she can curate her recommendations better,” Ben says. Rey slaps his stomach.

“Actually, I don’t need anymore… suggestion.” The energy at the table shifts, and Rey gets a devious idea.

“Oh my god, peanut, did you find someone?” Finn asks, garnering the attention of everyone, even Phasma who tries to stay out of this type of conversation as much as possible.

“Yeah, I did.” 

Squeels of joy erupt from around the table as a barrage of questions suddenly spill from everyones lips. 

“Does he live here?”

“Is he rich?”

“Do we know him?”

“What’s he do for a living?” “Tell us about him!”

Rey smiles. “Well, I really like him but there is one problem.”

“What?” Ben barks up, suddenly. She turns to look at him, giving him the sweetest expression she can muster, the one that makes him melt like butter.

“He’s got a really small dick.”

Ben chokes on his grits. 

—

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