#(if some parts sound weird please tell me!)

[gothsuguru]

getting an iced pumpkin chai in the morning and then my personal goal is to spend the whole day writing and i hope i can come back to this post tomorrow and rb w how much progress i’ve made!!!

[beevean]

Still can't believe how much "rewriting in my native language then translating the rewriting" works, I hate it lmao.

Anyway. Have some Hectaly:

ENG, first draft:

It’s like the ebbs of the tides, in time with the waxing and waning of the moon.

Most of the days now, he lives a tranquil life, he watches Rosaly sew lace, he keeps company to the children, he even visits the village more often: word has spread among the townsfolk that he is quite apt at taking care of and training animals, and what once was reason for scorn, is now a sought quality, something that doesn’t fail to amuse Hector. He has always preferred the company of his non-human companions, but if they once used to be his safe haven out of need, now they are simply a soothing presence. [He quite enjoys being useful to others.]

ITA:

È come le onde della marea, in sincronia con la luna che cresce e cala.

La vita di Hector continua placida, e il sentiero è sempre più in discesa, a poco a poco meno scosceso. Ha imparato come aiutare Rosaly nelle sue infinite faccende: se lei insiste a prodigarsi per il prossimo, lui non la lascerà da sola. Quando i bambini del villaggio le portano miele e fragole per ringraziarla per il suo duro lavoro da parte dei genitori, Hector li cucina: i suoi lavori non saranno mai deliziosi come quelli di sua moglie, ma il suo sorriso da solo li rende più dolci. La presenza dei bambini, che un tempo adocchiava con diffidenza e imbarazzo e non senza una punta di rancore, è ora più che benvenuta, ora che “zio” Hector sa come intrattenerli. Non rivelerà mai a nessuno dove abbia imparato a disegnare mostri nel minimo dettaglio, e non importa più, non quando le sue bozze ora servono soltanto a incuriosire anime innocenti.

Il giardino è la sua parte preferita della casa, dove può dedicarsi a prendersi cura del giardino e degli animali, in pacifica solitudine. Hector ha sempre preferito la compagnia dei suoi amici non umani, ma se un tempo erano il suo rifugio sicuro dalla crudeltà dell’uomo, oggi altro non sono che una piacevole presenza.

Si sparge la voce nel villaggio che il marito di Rosaly è stranamente abile nel domare gli animali, anche i più temuti. Ha accettato da tempo di essere chiamato “pastore” dalla donna a mo’ di vezzeggiativo, ma mai si sarebbe aspettato che altri umani lo avrebbero accettato così come fosse. Alcuni paesani si azzardano ad avvicinarsi a lui, a chiedergli aiuto; Hector esita all’inizio, perché alcune delle sue cicatrici sono più vecchie della sua permanenza del castello, ma Rosaly lo incoraggia a fare del bene, e lui si fida di lei. C’è chi gli annuncia che è un segno che Dio lo favorisce, perché solo un’anima buona può avere tale affinità con il Suo creato. Hector deve mordersi la lingua per non scoppiare a ridere.

Riesce persino a scambiare due parole con il prete della chiesetta vicina. Si premura di ignorare il crocefisso che gli pende dal collo, perché non è degno di guardare Cristo in faccia, ma il vecchio è mite e cordiale e si offre di essere a disposizione, nel caso Hector decidesse di confessarsi. Lui rifiuta con un sorriso tirato, perché non ne ha bisogno – Dio sa già benissimo di quali crimini si è macchiato. Accetta, come compromesso, di aiutarli con il loro orto, e di insegnare ai bambini a leggere e a scrivere.

E, nei rari giorni pigri, Hector non si affanna a cercare un compito da svolgere, perché ora sa che non è quello lo scopo della sua vita e nessuno più gli darà ordini da eseguire a ogni costo. Invece, passa il tempo ad osservare Rosaly che ricama sulla sua sedia a dondolo, con calma e destrezza, intrecciando il pizzo senza un attimo di sosta. Non è molto differente, riflette, dal creare demoni: Rosaly ha un disegno ben preciso in mente, ognuno diverso dal precedente, e lo ricrea con le sue mani, gli dà forma e significato, infonde parte della sua vita nelle sue piccole opere d’arte.

È uno spettacolo semplice, ma Hector non se ne stanca mai e potrebbe ammirarlo per ore e ore, perché sua moglie risplende come il sole quando si dedica a portare gioia al prossimo.

E nei suoi giorni migliori, Hector è sicuro di aver imparato a fare lo stesso, e il conforto lo aiuta a camminare a testa alta.

ENG, translation:

It’s like the ebbs of the tides, in time with the waxing and waning of the moon.

Hector’s life continues placidly, and the path is less and less steep. He has learned how to help Rosaly in her endless chores: if she insists on doing her best for others, he won’t leave her alone. When the children from the village bring her honey and strawberries on their parents’ behalf, to thank her for her hard work, Hector has taken to baking them: his works will never be as delicious as his wife’s, but her smile alone makes them sweeter. The presence of the children, which he once eyed askance with distrust and awkwardness and not without a hint of resentment, is now more than welcome, now that “Uncle” Hector knows how to entertain them. He will never reveal to anyone where he had learned to draw monsters in great detail, and it doesn’t matter anymore, not when his sketches now only serve to intrigue innocent souls.

The garden is his favorite part of the house, where he can dedicate himself to taking care of the plants and the animals in peaceful solitude. Hector has always preferred the company of his non-human friends, but where once they used to be his safe haven from the cruelty of man, today they are nothing more than a soothing presence.

Word spreads through the village that Rosaly’s husband is strangely apt at taming animals, even the most feared ones. He has long accepted being called “shepherd” by the woman as a term of endearment, but he never would have imagined that other humans would accept him as he is. Some villagers dare to approach him, to ask him for help to drive beasts away or train their pets; Hector hesitates at first, because some of his scars are older than his time in the castle, but Rosaly encourages him to do some good, and if he can trust anyone, it’s her. There are those who, clutching their hands, declare that it is a sign that God favors him, because only a good soul can have such an affinity with His creation. Hector has to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing.

He even manages to exchange a few words with the priest of the nearby church. He takes care to ignore the crucifix hanging from his neck, because he is not worthy of looking at Christ’s agonized expression, but the old man is gentle and friendly and offers to be available, in case Hector decides to confess. He refuses with a tight smile, because he doesn’t need it – God already knows all too well the sins that stain his soul. He agrees, as a compromise, to help them with their grounds, and to teach the children to read and write.

And, on the rare lazy days, Hector doesn’t bother looking for a task to carry out, because he now knows that that is not the purpose of his life and no one will give him orders to obey at any cost. Instead, he spends his time watching Rosaly as she sews in her rocking chair, calmly and deftly, weaving the lace without a moment’s rest. It’s not very different, he muses, from creating devils: Rosaly has a very specific design in mind, each and every one different from the previous one, and she recreates it with her own hands, gives it shape and meaning, infuses part of her life into her small works of art.

It is a simple sight, but Hector never tires of it and could admire it for hours and hours, because his wife shines like the sun when she dedicates herself to bringing joy to others.

And on his best days, Hector is sure he has learned to do the same, and the comfort helps him walk with his head held high.

[hyprfixate]

a genetic disposition (to loving you) :: [BC x Reader]

read on AO3

summary: seeing chan at the genetic clinic when he told you he was too busy to hang out was one thing. noticing he was now significantly taller than he was a couple weeks ago was another.

learning he's been diagnosed with the werewolf disorder is something different entirely.

pairing: bang chan x reader

tropes: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, modern werewolf au, no transformations tho, chronically ill reader, reader has EDS (ehlers danlos syndrome), some angst, slight miscommunication trope

smut warning: masturbation (m), handjobs, blink-and-you-miss-it subby chan, voyeurism, pussy eating (x2), no actual ABO dynamics but that's not stopping Chan from calling himself Alpha, dirty talk, lots of begging, standing/wall sex, cumming inside AND cumming outside.

content warning: talks about being in pain, self deprecating talk, anxiety spirals, very brief internalized ableism, panic attack

word count: 21.6k

author's note: if you saw the three different attempts to post this, no you didn't. enjoy! <3

Chan was acting weird.

To be fair, he always acts weird. Weird might actually be his default. But this was a different type of weird– a weird that involved canceling plans last minute and making up flimsy excuses about why. 

Today, he was supposed to accompany you to your doctor's appointment. A simple, low stakes kind of hangout. You looked at your phone with a sigh.

Channie: sorry, can we do a raincheck for our hangout? not to sound like a fuckboy but something came up

Channie: i really am sorry babygirl. i'll make it up to you i promise. please tell me how it goes okay?

You let out a small huff of air. You would love to be annoyed, mad even, but at the end of the day, this is Chan, your best friend since elementary school. The guy who held you through heartbreaks and stressful semesters. The guy who memorized your ridiculously complicated Dunkin order. The guy who dropped everything to stay with you at the hospital a few months ago when things got really bad.

The guy you're secretly in love with.

Okay, maybe that was a minor and insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things. Either way, you can't be mad at Chan. 

You: don't worry channie. i'll be okay. I hope your stuff goes well ok? 

Channie: love u, good luck with your appointment, it's gonna be ok

Right. Your appointment.

You'd been having some increasingly bothersome and worrying symptoms for the better part of 2 years now. It started with a noticeable dull ache in your knees that wouldn't go away, reaching a peak now where there's not a single day you wake up pain free. The doctors were just as stumped as you were, and as sort of a last ditch effort, they sent you to a geneticist in the expensive part of the city. Thank goodness for adequate health insurance.

You were a bit nervous, which is why you asked Chan to come with you, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You've been to specialists before. 

Still, disappointment rises in your chest as you finish pulling your hair away from your face and securing it with a scrunchie before grabbing your essentials and heading out the door. You're more disappointed about the fact that he's not coming instead of what he's not coming to. You're getting a little weary and tired of the excuses and him bailing on plans. 

But then you think about the way his voice sounds when he calls you babygirl, and everything seems right again.

The trip to the geneticist office is long, and by the time you arrive, you feel the exhaustion in every joint. For such a high caliber place, it's decorated just as sterile and modern as you were expecting, with white walls and white furniture. When you go to check in, the receptionist hands you a tablet with various forms pulled up and points you to the waiting room.

You settle into one of the white waiting room chairs, balancing the iPad on your lap as you begin working through the forms. The questions start simple enough - name, date of birth, insurance information. Then they get more involved, diving into your medical history.

Have you experienced any of the following symptoms in the last six months?

The list that follows is daunting - joint pain (obviously), muscle weakness (sometimes), unexplained fatigue (who doesn't have that?), difficulty concentrating (depends on the day). You find yourself checking more boxes than you'd like.

Your mind drifts to Chan again. You wonder what was so important that he had to cancel. Usually, he at least gives you a concrete excuse, even if it's something silly like having to wash his hair or visit his parents. Today's vague "something came up" feels different. Worrying.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull out your phone.

You: this intake paperwork feels like the ending of a medication commercial

You: i’m surprised they haven't asked me if i or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma

The message stays on delivered for a while, longer than you expect. You give up on staring at your phone and turn your attention back to the paperwork.

After a ridiculous amount of questions and an even more ridiculous amount of signatures, you finish the preliminary stuff, heading back to the receptionist desk to hand her the iPad. She gives you a polite nod and smile and lets you know the nurse will be out in a second, so you can wait in the small chair by the double doors.

You're lost in thought, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you hear the gentle sound of your name called. The sound makes you look up, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bag. A nurse stands by the double doors, clipboard in hand, wearing deep purple scrubs and a smile that somehow makes the sterile environment feel a little more human.

You push yourself up from the chair, joints starting their songs of protest after sitting still for so long. The nurse offers pleasantries that you respond to with your usual politeness. As you're walking towards the open door, you hear a beep and the whirr of an electronic lock unlocking. The closed side of the door swings open and–

There's Chan.

You both freeze mid-step, eyes wide and locked on each other like this is the first time you're seeing each other in years. It feels like it, but you did just see him last weekend at a mutual friend's birthday party. It was a fun night, but he was acting strange and dodgy then, too.

something came up.

You squint at him, not sure whether confusion or anger is winning the war in you right now. He opens his mouth once, twice– words are failing. The most he can do is let out a shaky, “Babygirl…”

You take that moment to really look at him. His hair is in its natural curly state, but significantly more messy than usual, wisps falling over and around themselves. His eyes are red and bagged heavily, and his shoulders seem like they're scrunching in on themselves. He hasn't looked like this since that night in the hospital with you.

Something is definitely wrong. 

The nurse clears her throat, and you remember you're being waited on. You motion wordlessly towards the nurse and he gives you a shaky nod.  

“I'll, um. I'll text you,” he mumbles weakly, holding the door open for you as you walk past. When you do, you can't help but look up at him, like way, way up. More than you usually do. You almost pause again– are your bone problems making you shrink, or is he somehow taller? Why does he look like that?

It's you who nods shakily this time, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away so you don't bump into a wall. It takes concentrated effort not to look back at him while you walk down the hallway, but somehow you manage.

The nurse brings you to an exam room and tells you to sit tight while she gets the vitals cart. You obey, still dazed and confused and maybe even a little hurt if you allow yourself to really feel it. Your phone buzzes less than a minute later, and you don't even have to guess who it is.

Channie: i'm so sorry.

Channie: i can explain. i promise.

Channie: i just.. i need some time before i can

Channie: im such a fucking idiot. i'm so sorry babygirl. please. 

There are a million and one responses in your head, each with varying levels of confusion or annoyance. But, among the haze, the image of his exhaustion floats back to you, and you find yourself folding.

As usual.

You: breathe, Chan. it's ok. 

You: whatever it is, we'll figure it out, yeah?

You: i do wish you told me but. it's okay. I can wait for an explanation.

Channie: you're so amazing. i don't deserve you. 

Channie: i'll call you when you get out ok? i love u

The nurse comes back with the vitals cart and begins prepping materials before you can respond properly, so you send back a heart and slip your phone into your pocket. When the blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, you wonder if the nurse will notice how fast your heart is beating – though you're not sure if it's from anxiety or the way Chan's voice cracked when he called you babygirl.

Maybe both.

To his credit, Chan truly does make it up to you, in the form of an extended weekend away at his parents’ cabin upstate. The invitation, or request rather, comes a couple days after the geneticist incident while you're in bed feeling anxious over your test results.

Channie: picking u up thursday night, we're going to my parents’ cabin till monday

Channie: had plans?

If anyone else were to text you like that, you'd balk at their audacity. But because it's Chan, there's a growing heat in your face when you simply reply:

You: no plans. promise you won't bail?

He sends you a picture of his already packed duffel bag and backpack sitting by his door, then another picture of him and his laptop that's clearly pulled up to Google Maps. His eyebrow is raised, sinfully plump lips pulled into a smirk as he points at the screen.

Channie: give me some creditt

Channie: im already packed and the route is already planned

You giggle, feeling the perpetual knot of nerves in your chest loosen. A weekend away with Chan sounds like the perfect thing. It'll be a way to get your mind off the maybes and anxieties from your appointment, and a way to spend time with your best friend. 

A win-win.

You spend the next few days packing and gathering supplies for a weekend at the cabin, which isn't as simple a task as it sounds. Chan is adamant that you worry about nothing except getting your stuff together, so he won't tell you what he has planned or what to pack. After losing many back and forth arguments, you toss a little bit of everything in your small suitcase, leaving your backpack for entertainment and snack purposes.

Thursday creeps up slowly, then all at once. Unfortunately, you wake up to deep pain in almost all of your joints– even your fingers seem to be screaming with every movement. Getting ready takes longer than you want, but you push through, and it isn't long before you're sitting on your living room couch, waiting for Chan to let you know to come out. It was a wonder what large amounts of Ibuprofen could do.

You hear the familiar puttering of his engine before his text even comes through, the soft ding of your phone cutting through your apartment.

Channie: i'm here babygirl

Channie: coming up to help w ur bags 

A warm flutter runs through your chest at his thoughtfulness. You're not sure you'll ever really get used to it. 

You push yourself up from the couch, breath hitching when the movement causes a dull ache to radiate down the length of your legs. You pause, gripping the arm of the couch and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

It's fine, you reason with yourself. It's not that bad. You're fine.

You're thankful that you had the foresight to pack a suitcase instead of a duffle, at least this way you'll have something to bear your weight on while you walk.

Your jacket is slipped over one shoulder when you hear the buzz from your doorbell. Chan's smiling face greets you when you open the door, looking both insanely handsome and–

“Am I shrinking, or are you growing?”

He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, which is somewhat concealed by the oversized sweater he's wearing. You want to scold him for such a light outer layer in the bitter late autumn, but your words get stuck in your throat as you find yourself tilting your head up further than usual to look at him.

And then you give yourself the pleasure of really looking at him.

His hair is its usual wispy, beautiful mess. He cards his fingers through it as he looks at you, smiling as though about to say something, when suddenly his smile drops, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands up straight.

“You're in pain.”

It’s not a question.  He's providing the information to you as fact. You blink in surprise.

“Yes, I am, but how did you–”

"I can–” He cuts himself off, looking uncertain for a moment before shaking his head. "I just know you, babygirl. You're not putting much weight on your left leg, anyway."

Hm. He caught you there.

“How bad is it?”

You finish shrugging on your jacket. “Um, maybe six out of ten. But I took medicine, I should be– Are you sweating?”

It's a stupid question, because he is, and you don't need a verbal response to confirm it. Sweat is beating at his temples and dampening his hair. Something flickers across his face, but then his expression is back to normal again. 

You watch him flip through a million different responses in his mind, but before he settles on one, he spots your bags next to the door and goes to grab them, slinging your backpack over his shoulder with profound ease. He's moving so fast and he's so jittery that you barely get a second to process everything.

“Chan,” you finally say when he whizzes past you again to put your remote back in the organizer. He pauses, back stiffening like he's a little kid again about to be scolded. He turns to you slowly. “Are you okay?”

You watch him take a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body seeming to expand and contract. The unnatural stiffness in his body seems like he's forcing himself to stay still, and you see his finger drumming patterns on his thigh.

You repeat his name, softer this time. “What's wrong?”

He shakes his head a bit too fast. “No, nothing, I–” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to grip the roots to ground himself to this moment. It works for a second. “I'm… okay. I can explain everything later babygirl, I just… I really just want to focus on spending time with you.”

There's a raw edge to his voice that makes your chest tighten. You study his face, taking in the exhaustion, the sheen from sweat, the way his eyes won't meet yours. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, but…

“Okay,” you relent with a sigh. It should be embarrassing how easily you fold for him. It should maybe even be studied. “But you promise that you'll explain?”

He deflates, eyes brightening with relief. “I promise. Chris-Cross my heart.” He punctuates his sentence by putting his hand over his chest.

You can't help the smile that takes over your face at that– the reference to the silly rhyme you'd made up when you were kids based on his English name. A bit of the anxiety in your chest loosens. “Now let's go before the traffic gets unbearable.”

You grab your keys and headphones, giving your apartment one last glance over before following Chan out of the door. By the time you finish locking up, he's already halfway to the elevator, his abnormally long legs quickening his pace. As you try to catch up with him, you can't help but notice his stature– how his shoulders seem broad under his sweater, how he just seems… more.

The elevator ride to the parking garage under your apartment building is quiet, but not uncomfortably. Chan is humming something under his breath, his increasingly restless fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg. Despite all of it, you feel relaxed. No matter what's going on, this is still your Chan, your person. 

He tosses your bags into his trunk with an ease that perks your entire body to attention. When you go to pull open the passenger door, he beats you to it, adding a dramatic flourish as he holds it open for you.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

In the passenger's seat is a small pink box with a label from your favorite bakery, alongside a nice variety of drinks in the cupholder. He's got a pair of fluffy slippers on the mat by your feet, too, and you can see on the dashboard he's turned the seat warmers on.

“Chan,” you breathe. Your heart is doing strange things in your chest, and you're either feeling extremely touched or about to pass out. “You didn't have to–”

“I wanted to.” You turn to look at him, and he's looking away, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. “Felt like an ass, you know, being so distant and weird. Needed to make it up to you.”

It's entirely unfair that he can just… say those things to you. He's your best friend, so of course he's affectionate– that's just how he's been since you met in third grade. What started with bringing extra GoGurts and tying your shoes when you broke your wrist has just now turned into spoiling you with cabin vacations and things you mention offhandedly that you like. 

No biggie.

He nudges you in the car playfully, making some lighthearted joke about him getting too soft on you. You can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, choosing instead to follow his movements in the rear view mirror. You watch as he pauses by the trunk, carding a hand through his hair and taking a big breath, before eventually making his way over to the driver's seat. He tosses his phone to you, effectively putting you on music duty, and then you're on the road in a matter of minutes.

Time with Chan is always easy. You talk about any and everything for the first hour of the drive, including his job, your lack thereof, and your appointment, and he listens to every detail carefully. 

“So, they think it's a collagen issue?”

You nod, wiggling your feet in your new slippers as you shift your position. “They aren't entirely sure, but they're looking at collagen based connective tissue disorders, like Ehlers Danlos and Lupus. They think that could explain the other issues too.”

He looks contemplative as he peers around you to the mirror by your door, trying to merge into the next lane. “Are you scared?”

You shrug, body moving with the car. “Its.. complicated. On the one hand, it would be scary to receive a life changing diagnosis. On the other hand–”

“You're just happy to have answers.”

You nod again, taking a sip of the caramel latte he bought for you and wincing as you shift again. Long drives are always hard, but paired with the changes in the pressure as the two of you drive further into the mountains, your joints feel like they might disintegrate.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You blink. Chan hadn't taken his eyes off the road, so how could he have seen you shifting? You open your mouth, prepared to lie, but he glances at you with a single eyebrow raised. You sigh.

“Maybe a six,” you breathe.

“So the Ibuprofen didn't help?”

“It did, it's just wearing off.”

You put the latte back in the cup holder, using your hands to bear your weight as you try to find a comfy position to sit in. 

“What do you need, babygirl?”

You fight the shiver his voice sends down your spine. “Nothing. Well– I don't know. Maybe a nap? Is that okay?”

“‘Course it is. Here.”

With sinfully dexterous fingers, he reaches across your lap to recline your seat for you. You let him, body going still as his strong forearm helps ease you back with the chair. When you're comfortable, he reaches behind him to the floor of the backseat, fishing around until he produces–

“Is that your couch blanket?”

His answering grin is soft. “The one you've been threatening to steal? Yeah. Maybe.”

He drapes it over you skillfully, with you having to do very minimal adjusting. The familiar, homey smell of his apartment– warmth and something else very distinctly Chan – floods your senses and wraps you in the warmest hug. It feels like coming home.

You adjust yourself again, sleep wanting to come now that you're cozy, but the dull ache in your legs doesn't want to let go. Without warning, Chan's free hand slips under the blanket and finds the knee of the leg that hurts with amazing accuracy. His hand feels blazing hot through the fabric of your sweats as he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

“This okay, yeah?” he asks, his low voice a soothing sound to your ears. Words are caught in your throat, so you can only nod, but you don't miss how the pain starts to dissolve by his touch. You also try very hard not to think about how big his hand is on your knee.

“Get some rest, babygirl. I got you.”

The combination of his gentle touch, the music, and the smell of his blanket is making your eyelids heavy. As you finally drift off, a contented smile pulls at your mouth because no matter what, this is where you're meant to be. 

This is home.

Chan wakes you up about half an hour before you're expected to arrive. However, paired with delays, the pitch blackness of the mountains, and the general unrestrainedness of Murphy's Law, you were only now getting to the cabin at just past 1am. 

The cabin is beautiful, as always. It's nestled amidst a thick grove of evergreen trees, and its tall, warm wood exterior seems inviting even at the ungodly hour you two arrive. As he swings the car onto the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminate it, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.

“Cabin sweet cabin,” he murmurs as he kills the engine. He picks his phone up from the cup holder and gives it a few flicks, then suddenly the porch lights come on. You give a little stretch in your seat, your joints feeling pleasantly loose and mostly pain free– the nap worked wonders. 

The two of you pile out of the car, the fresh mountain air filling your nostrils. It smells like pine needles and freshwater, with an undercurrent of something wild and electric, like the air before a storm.

“Is it supposed to rain?”

Chan barely hears you, his antsyness now back full force. He's got both of your backpacks and his duffle bag slung over his shoulders, and he goes to grab your suitcase, but you appear by his side and pull it away from him. He blinks down at you, seeming surprised to see you there.

You tilt your head to the side. He still looks sweaty, and from where you're standing, it still seems like he's radiating an insane amount of heat. His breaths are labored, and you find yourself reaching over to rub your thumb over his hand. However, once your hands connect, he jumps and pulls away like you've shocked him.

At your hurt face, he tries to backtrack. “Static,” he supplies weakly. You say nothing, and the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Come on, let's get you out of the cold.”

You try not to jump to conclusions. At the end of the day, if something is really bothering him, if something is really wrong, Chan will tell you. He has always been the brooding type, but there is but so long he can keep things from you.

Still, no matter how much you try to take things at his pace, you keep seeing his face at the clinic: the deep bags under his eyes, the messy hair. The last time you looked into those eyes and saw that same pain, you were in a hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than you could count.

Chan had been brooding then too, refusing to leave your side, asking the doctors all the right questions, keeping your parents up to date when they had to go back home. You remember one night in particular, when you were chalk full of pain meds and falling asleep under the whirr of an oxygen mask, he'd stood at your bedside and rubbed his thumb over your forehead to soothe you. You couldn't speak, too exhausted and in pain to move in any capacity, but you didn't need to. He spoke to you the entire time about everything and nothing, switching his  murmuring to quiet comforts when you started to cry. Just before sleep took you under, you met his eyes– his exhausted, red rimmed eyes– and he gave you the softest, most tender look.

“We'll get through it, babygirl,” he had murmured. “You're gonna be okay. You'll come home.”

You did come home, of course, but that's when things became different. Chan was distant, constantly canceling plans, avoiding you.

You shake the memory from your head as you watch him fiddle with his keys in the lock. This weekend was meant to be about the two of you having fun. You could worry about everything else later.

Chan flicks on the overhead light in the living room area and the room floods with warmth. Everything looks just as familiar and homey as you recall.

Before you can take a good breath, he's got your bags and suitcase and is bounding up the stairs with them like they weigh nothing. You choose to busy yourself with getting comfortable, peeling off your coat and hanging it on the nearby hook.

You're tugging your hair back into a ponytail when he comes back down, and when you look up and spot him the scrunchie flies across the room.

He's taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a fitted white tee that does nothing to hide just how different his body looks. It's no secret that Chan works out, but he fills out this shirt like it was painted on him. You quickly pull your spare scrunchie from the other wrist to tie up your hair, trying not to dwell.

"Do you want me to put these in the kitchen?" you call out, holding up the bag of road trip leftovers.

"Yeah, just–" his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "Just throw them on the counter. I'll organize everything later."

You pad into the kitchen, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. Everything is exactly as you remember it – the mismatched mugs in the cabinet, the worn wooden spoons in the ceramic holder, the string lights Chan installed last summer that give everything a soft glow. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend nothing has changed.

Almost.

You find, unsurprisingly, that the cabinets and fridge are stocked full. Chan's parents likely came out to pack up some groceries when he told them you'd be coming. You find yourself leaning against an open cabinet, staring into space, your mind a million miles away.

"You okay, babygirl?”

You jump slightly – you hadn't heard him come up behind you. He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair again, that restless energy still evident in every movement.

"Yeah, just..." you gesture vaguely around you. "Memories, you know?"

His expression softens, and for a moment he looks exactly like your Chan again. "Yeah, I know."

The moment stretches between you, comfortable and familiar, until your stomach decides to break it with an embarrassingly loud growl. Chan's laugh is startled but genuine.

"I don't remember that.” He jokes. “Hungry?"

You feel your cheeks heat. "Yeah, I think so.”

He starts rolling his sleeves up. “I could probably make some eggs and toast, if–.”

“It's one in the morning,” you scold him gently. “Nobody is cooking.”

He gives you a pout, which is comical considering his current stature, but you still feel a tug in your chest. “But–”

You shake your head, turning away from him so you don't relent. “No buts. We have tons of snacks. Help me find something.”

At your request, the two of you rummage through the drawers and cupboards. Everything either requires too much effort or won't agree with your stomach at this ridiculous hour. You're ready to call it quits and sleep for dinner when a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Oh, can I have one of your protein bars? You always buy the good kind.”

His smile is soft, dimples catching the light in a way that makes his entire face seem like a dream. “Of course. They're in my backpack, next to the couch.”

You slide your way to his bag with an excited pep in your step. Chan, being who he is, always buys the amazingly expensive protein bars that manage not to taste like chalky disappointment. They're surprisingly filling, and you know they'll settle your stomach without causing a stomach ache.

You find his bag quickly in the low light of the room, squatting down to rifle through it. With your hand in the front pocket, you dig around until your fingers find something that feels like the protein bar box. In your hungry haze, you yank it out without thinking.

It is not the protein bar box.

Instead, it's a thick packet of paper. You go to put it back when the letter head of the genetic clinic you visited catches your eye, along with the words “After-Visit Summary”.

Maybe if your heart wasn't thrumming in your ears, you would've heard his panicked footsteps coming after you. But the only thing in your ears is the erratic beating of your heart, one that only gets worse when you turn the packet over and read the small words on the margin:

You were seen today for: Hormonal Changes. The following issues were addressed: Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome (Werewolf Gene).

You hear your name through the roaring in your ears. It's a soft, tentative sound that cracks around the edges. You turn, slowly, to see Chan almost right behind you, his face drained of all color and his eyes blown wide.

“Chan,” you breathe. You turn a bit more towards him, the packet still gripped in your hand. “What–”

"I can explain," he says quickly, desperately. His hands are shaking. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just– I needed time to–”

He trails off, looking around the room as though looking for someone to help him.

Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome.

You came across this condition when you were researching the clinic, as they mentioned that they were the only place in the area that had the facilities to test for it. It was, as the paper put it, the werewolf gene. People with the condition experienced heightened senses of smell, increased strength, sensory sensitivities– they were werewolves, just without the whole full moon transformation thing.

To say the condition was rare was an understatement. Both parents had to be carriers for the trait, and even then it only occurred in 25% of those births.

And Chan happened to be one of them.

Everything clicks into place now. The sudden growth spurt, the feverishly hot skin, how he knows when you're in pain without you saying a word.

“This is why you were at the clinic,” you say softly. It's not a question.

He nods jerkily, still looking like he might bolt at any second. You stand up to take a step toward him and he actually backs away.

“Don't,” he breathes. “I'm… I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” You almost laugh. “Chan, you're not going to hurt me. How could you think that?”

“No, you don't understand,” he cards his hands through his hair, pausing to tug on the roots. “I can't… I don't know how to control myself yet. I'm different now, I'm–”

“Still Chan.”

The sound he makes is painful. “You can't say that,” he breathes. His hands drop to his sides again. “You don't know what it's like.”

“So tell me," you urge. You move as though you're about to take another step towards him, and your heart drops at how his entire body flinches. “Chan. Chris. Christopher. Look at me please.”

The use of his full name does something to him, and you watch as he settles, eyes drifting over to you slowly. His gaze is intense, and in the dim light of the living room, you feel akin to a deer staring down a wolf, no pun intended. 

It does not frighten you the way it should.

“Talk to me, please,” you beg. “You're my best friend. I'm here for you, always.”

“I can smell when you're in pain,” he grits out. It's not what you're expecting to hear. He clenches a hand into a fist, then lets it go. “You usually smell sweet, like caramel and linen. But then your scent gets an undercurrent of something harsh, like burnt sugar and metal, and I… I feel like–”

He lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he cuts himself off. “I can't control my strength. I've broken so much shit around the apartment. Don't wanna touch you. Don't wanna break you.”

“You won't hurt me.” You take the opportunity to get closer, but he must smell the closing distance because his eyes fly open. You're in front of him before he can move. “Do you know why?”

Chan's breaths are ragged and labored. “Why?”

“Because you're still my Chan. Still the guy who's been taking care of me since elementary school. Still the person I trust most in the world."

His breath hitches. "How can you say that? How can you just... accept this?"

You can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Chan, I'm literally at the same genetic clinic getting tested for a collagen disorder. Did you think I wouldn't understand what it's like to have your body change in ways you can't control?"

That seems to catch him off guard. He turns away, a frown tugging at his lips. "That's... that's different.”

“Is it though?” You pretend to be thoughtful. “Last I checked, it's like both of our bodies are changing in ways we don't understand. Like we both have to navigate a new normal.”

"That's exactly why I–" he cuts himself off, running both hands through his hair. "I can't risk hurting you. Not when you're already..."

"Already what?" You challenge, taking one final step. You're close enough now that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly. "Already broken?”

His face twists up like you've punched him in the stomach. “No! God, no. When you're already going through so much.”

“A lot of what I'm going through is a waiting game, Chan– waiting for test results, waiting for appointments at specialists. You don't have to keep things from me because of that.”

You poke him in his side, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, this? Finding out you're a werewolf–”

“The correct term is Lycanthropy Syndrome–”

“-- This is the kind of stuff that keeps me grounded. Having other things to think about. Having you around.”

You watch the tension slowly bleed from his shoulders, almost as though he's deflating. There's obviously more he isn't telling you– you can see it in the way his eyes still can't seem to meet yours– but you don't push it. He's already said so much.

“So,” you start. You rock back and forth on your feet. “Can I make werewolf puns now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you pawsitive?”

He groans at that, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “You're the worst. I'm gonna leave you here and go home.”

But he's laughing anyway, his usual giggle that makes everything seem like it'll be alright. You beam at him. and your body lights aflame when he smiles back down at you softly. The two of you hold eye contact for a second, and you watch something untraceable flash in his eyes. Before you can even process it, he's looking away again and clearing his throat.

Another silence falls between you, but this one is different. Chan is fidgeting again, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that restless way you've noticed all evening. He's looking everywhere but at you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"What is it?" you ask softly.

He opens his mouth once. Twice. Three times– words seem to be failing him again. You raise an eyebrow and he sighs, a sheepish smile on his big stupidly handsome face.

"Can we..." he starts, then stops. Starts again. "Would it be okay if we... like we used to..."

You wait patiently as he struggles with the words. His ears are turning red again.

"Can we share my bed?" he finally gets out in a rush. "Like– like when we were kids? Just for tonight. I just... I haven't been sleeping well since everything started and I… um…”

Your brain short circuits as the request processes.

Share… a bed. With Chan. Taller, wider, more muscular Chan. Chan whose body heat seeps through every layer of clothing. Chan whose one hand can cover your knee easily. 

From the way your body reacts, your knee jerk reaction is to say no. He's already going through enough, and Lord knows what types of degenerate scent you'd be giving off if you spent an entire night with him.

But when you open your mouth to decline, you notice how he's standing, with his shoulders curved inward, trying to make himself smaller. His big brown eyes are pleading, almost desperate, and you think about how scared he was earlier, how convinced he was that you'd reject him once you knew the truth.

Fuck it.

“Of course, Channie.”

The smile on his face is nervous, like he expects you to change your mind any second. “Yeah?”

You nod, ignoring the way your brain tries to supply you with images of everything you want to have happen. "Yeah. Just... let me get changed first?"

He nods quickly, that restless energy back but different now – excited rather than anxious. "Yeah! Yes. Your stuff is in your room, yeah? I'll be in mine when you're ready."

He's bounding up the stairs before you can say anything. You take the moment alone to take a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Chan. Just your best friend.

When you reach your room, you duck into the attached bathroom to change quickly, opting for the full top and bottom PJ set rather than the oversized hoodie you were originally going to wear. You stare at your reflection, willing yourself to calm down and look normal.

Sharing a bed with Chan is not a new concept. When you'd first gotten close in grade school, the two of you tended to hop from house to house, sleeping wherever without a care in the world. The habit continued as you grew up– in college during study sessions, during movie marathons on school breaks, that one time a few months ago when you'd gotten terribly drunk at your friend Jeongin's birthday party. It had never been anything more than two friends seeking each other's comfort.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, face flushed and breathing ragged. You force yourself to calm down– if Chan could smell when you were in pain, he could probably smell the indecency coming off of you in waves. 

Everything is fine.

When you reach the doorway of the master bedroom, Chan is already in bed scrolling on his phone. You watch his nostrils flare for a second, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his phone on the night stand.

The king sized bed looks both too big and too small.

When he opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see you. and you watch red start to tint his neck. “Um. Hey,” he breathes.

You hover in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you. "Hey."

Chan shifts, pulling back the covers on what has always been 'your' side of the bed “Um. Do you want... I mean, we usually..." He trails off, looking everywhere but directly at you.

You take the initiative and move towards the bed, sliding down under the covers until they reach just under your chin. Chan shuffles next to you, scooting this way and that, flipping like a hot dog on a stick. You both settle on your back eventually, staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird,” he says after a few minutes of strained silence.

“Not weird,” you supply. “Just… different.”

“Different…,” he murmurs. “Different because I'm different?”

You almost laugh. “Chan, what? No–”

He's sliding out from under the covers before you can finish. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– this was dumb to ask.” You ignore the way your heart drops. “I'll go sleep in the other room. Or on the couch. Or–”

You grab at his wrist before he can go anywhere. He doesn't jerk away this time, but his entire body goes rigid. You rub your thumb along the pulse point on his wrist.

“You don't have to leave,” you say slowly. “It’s not weird because you're different. It's weird because we're both over thinking it.”

He lets out a little breath. “We are, aren't we?”

"Yeah." You squeeze his wrist once before letting go. He settles back down into the bed, still looking a bit uncomfortable, but not ready to run anymore. 

You smile at him before holding open the cocoon you made in the blanket. "Come here, you big baby."

"I resent that," he grumbles, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

It takes some maneuvering to find a comfortable position. Chan is hesitant at first, careful not to crowd you, but eventually you manage to guide him until his head is tucked under your chin, his arm draped carefully over your middle. His body curls around yours despite the size difference, like he's trying to make himself smaller again. When he finally settles, it feels like every part of him is contoured to fit you perfectly.

You ignore the heat in your stomach.

The silence that settles around you is comfortable now, broken only by your breathing beginning to sync up. His body weight is grounding, and the heat he's radiating feels like the world's best heating pad. 

You're just beginning to doze off when Chan makes a low, displeased grunt in the back of his throat. You can feel his eyebrows scrunch together where he's pressed against your collarbone.

“Your hip,” he murmurs.

“Hm?”

He shifts in your hold, maneuvering you until his other hand can slide under your body to wrap around you. “Your hip hurts. Or it's about to start.”

Sleepiness has made you a pliant, barely conscious little thing. You're about to ask how he can tell when his big, warm hand presses against your hip, heat radiating through the fabric until it settles deep into your bones. You can't help but let out a little whimper from the immediate relief it gives you.

Chan makes another sound in his throat, grip increasing on you almost infinitesimally. 

“This good, babygirl?”

“Mmf.”

The warmth and relaxation is muddling your brain. “S'good, Channie.”

He makes a more pleased sound and nuzzles closer. Sleep takes you quickly after that, and all you can think about as you finally succumb is how lucky you are to have him here with you. You'd love to say as much, but you're too tired to open your mouth, so you give him the tiniest of squeezes, hoping he understands.

From the way his arm tightens around you, you think he does.

Things seem less charged in the morning.

You wake up to sunlight glittering through the curtains and the other side of the bed empty. The sheets are still warm, but given what you've come to learn about Chan and his temperature, he could've left the bed anywhere from three seconds to four hours ago.

You stretch a little bit as you try to wake up fully, heading to the other bedroom to freshen up for the day. It seems like an okay day pain-wise. You're at a steady three out of ten everywhere except your hands, but you brush it off. With the way you sleep, your hands take longer to catch up to the lower pain levels in the rest of your body. It's just a matter of time. 

Still, you run them under warm water in the bathroom, hoping to loosen them up.

When you finally emerge, you follow the mouthwatering scent of cooking down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a nonexistent dinner, you're starved, and you could really go for some food right now.

You pause in the archway of the kitchen.

Food is… an understatement.

Chan stands at the stove, spatula in hand and preparing to flip what looks like an omelette. All around him on the counters are various other breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, hashbrowns, fruit–

“When did you have time to make a sourdough starter?”

He startles slightly, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. “Ah… good morning, babygirl. I may have.. gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit?” You slide into a seat at the edge of the kitchen island in the one spot where there's no food. “If you were planning to invite the woodland creatures you could've given me a heads up, I'd be decent.”

The responding huff makes you smile. “I cannot communicate with animals. Weirdo.” Chan grins. He folds the omelette in half and flips it over. “I just… I got hungry.”

You sneak a piece of bacon off of a nearby plate and snort. “‘Hungry’ seems like a gross understatement. Is this a side effect?”

Chan's ears turn pink as he plates the omelette. "Yeah, actually. My metabolism is... different now. Food tastes different too– more intense." He starts moving dishes to the kitchen island, careful not to overcrowd your space. "Everything is more intense, really."

"Like what?"

He hums thoughtfully as he settles into the chair next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Smells are the biggest thing. Like, I can smell everything. The coffee brewing, the bacon grease in the air, the rain that's coming later–"

"It's going to rain?"

"Yeah, probably this afternoon." He passes you a fork and a plate you never noticed him constructing. "I can smell it in the air. What’s the word? Petrichor, but... before the rain actually falls? If that makes sense.”

You hum around a fork full of eggs, cracking the fingers on your free hand. “That sounds like it can get miserable. Is everything just… enhanced all the time?”

He takes a bite out of a chunk of toast, making a so-so motion with his hand. “It's enhanced all the time, but the way it is right now, the intensity, that’s only sometimes. Only during–”

He cuts himself off, swallowing his bite of toast with more power than necessary. 

“During the full moon?” You supply.

He nods quickly. “Yeah.”

There's a lull in the conversation that you try not to read into. It doesn't take much effort anyway, because you notice that eating is taking more effort than it was a few minutes ago. Your grip on the fork is weird, and you can't seem to close your fingers all the way around it.

That's fine, you think to yourself. You switch hands. Everything is fine.

You try not to let the revelation sour your mood. Chan mentioned it was going to rain, and while your doctors didn't know why you were in pain, they knew what kinds of things made it worse, and the air pressure changes from rain was one of them. This was just something you had to learn to deal with now.

Resentment for your condition rises in your chest with the little bit you've eaten, and you take a sip of apple juice to swallow it down. It's not fair. People your age were doing things like mountain climbing, running marathons, just living. And here you were, struggling to feed yourself and hold a fork.

It's fine.

A hand on your shoulder pierces through the dense clouds shrouding your mind, and you feel yourself startle a little. Chan is facing you, leaning his impossibly tall torso down to look you right in your eyes. His gaze is intense, gold flecks in his eyes swimming around as he stares.

“What hurts,” he breathes. The sound of his voice is light as a feather, floating through the air before coming to rest gently on your lips. 

“My hands.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

You think about saying your number, but upon remembering how nice and easy conversation was this morning, you decide to lie. “Four.”

The look in Chan’s eyes grows more intense, and you swallow around nothing. He levels you with a very unimpressed look, eyebrows creasing and his plushy, pink lips frowning. He only says two words, but they send a ripple through your body anyway:

“Try again.”

Fuck. You're giving yourself whiplash. Jumping from frustration to stark arousal was an Olympics level move your brain wasn't prepared for. There's a different kind of haze clouding your mind now.

“It's a seven,” you breathe. 

He's up on his feet before you can fully compose yourself, long legs taking him up the stairs and bringing him back down in a matter of seconds. When he sits down again, he's holding your decorative medication pouch and a mini water bottle from your backpack.

You gulp at the way the veins in his arm bulge.

“Which bottle is it?”

You come back to yourself, licking your incredibly dry lips before you respond. It takes a blink or two before you can orient yourself in the present. “Um, red bottle. The tall one.”

He places the bottle and water in front of you in a gentle way that contrasts the energy in the room. You fumble with the child proofing for a second before he plucks the bottle from you, undoing the lid with one hand.

Wow. Fuck.

"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the pills he tips into your palm. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck as you swallow them, and you try not to shiver at the contact.

“Do you need a nap while the pills work?”

You pout, finally coming back to your good senses. “We're supposed to have a movie marathon today.”

“I didn't realize the TV had a flight to catch?”

You glare at him, albeit thankful for the teasing sarcasm to loosen the tension. “You're not funny.”

Chan's lips pull into a smirk and he gives a little shrug. “I think I am.”

You roll your eyes at him as he stands, coming over to you and easing you out of your seat. He gives a little ‘tsk’ at your faux attitude, but his hands are back on your shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. When you finally do lay down, he's already throwing his signature couch blanket over you, tucking it around you securely.

“Comfy?”

You are, but you've also realized he's tricked you into a nap, so you do the adult thing and mock him before sticking your tongue out at him.

“Wow,” he murmurs. He slides down the couch and onto the floor. “I haven't seen that routine since 4th grade.”

You watch as he adjusts his legs a few times, his head resting against the armrest right by your fingers. It’s unspoken, but you know that he'll stay until he's sure you're asleep. 

"You don't have to sit on the floor," you murmur. "There's plenty of room up here."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm good here.”

You watch his side profile for a minute, basking in all of his Chan-ness. He settles in a bit more and lets his eyes flutter closed. When he does, he leans his head back a little more, and you watch the delicate bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. 

“Chan?” Your mouth is moving before you know it. 

“Hm?”

“Were you scared? When you… got the diagnosis?”

His eyes open at that, and he turns his head so he can look at you. The intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by that familiar warmth that only he has.

There's a beat of silence where all Chan does is stare, almost as if seeing you for the first time. It passes, though, and then he goes back to his previous position, eyes closed again as he speaks. “No,” he says finally. “I wasn't scared. The only thing I thought about was you.”

“Me?”

He nods against the couch. “They kept talking about what it meant and all of that, and all I could think about was how on earth I was going to tell you.”

You reach a hand over and start rubbing at his scalp in the familiar way you've always done. “And yet,” you tease gently. “I had to accidentally find the papers.”

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, leaning into your hand. “That wasn't the plan,” he murmurs. “Was supposed to tell you properly.”

You stay quiet, continuing to play with his hair. The quiet domesticity is comforting, and you find your eyes fluttering closed too. 

You move your fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns and shapes, occasionally letting your nails graze his scalp. His breathing evens out eventually--he's not sleeping, no, just content and peaceful. You're a different story, though, and medication induced drowsiness starts flowing its way through your body.

Your movements grow slower and uncoordinated, hand drifting lower, and lower, until eventually your fingers trail to the nape of his neck. When you drag your nails across the sensitive skin there, Chan makes a sound that shoots straight through you and straight to your core– something between a pleased hum and a growl that vibrates through his entire body.

Both of you freeze. Your heart starts doing gymnastics in your chest while the sound echoes in your ears, making your body grow hot. Beneath you, Chan is rigid, like every muscle has been pulled taut.

The room is entirely still for a second. Then, he clears his throat a little, shifting himself so you have better access. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Keep going. Feels nice.”

You force your fingers to move again, continuing their exploration and tracing the curls on Chan's head. 

You repeat your mantra in your mind:

Everything is fine.

The moment passes like a summer storm– intense and fleeting– and soon Chan is relaxed again, practically melting under your touch. You're actively fighting sleep now but you're realizing it's a losing battle. Your movements become slower, less deliberate, until your hand is simply resting in his hair.

"Sleep, babygirl," he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed. "I got you.”

So you do.

When you wake up a bit later, you find yourself, sadly, alone.

In place of Chan's thick curls is the cold rectangular slab that is your cell phone. You squint at it sleepily, not remembering bringing it down with you for breakfast or having it on the couch. You flick through the unlock process, and when your phone opens, it's on the notes app.

Hi babygirl. If you're reading this, I went to the store. We don't have any vegetables. I'll try to be quick. - Channie

You wipe sleep from your eyes as you sit up, trying to orient yourself in your surroundings. You hear the steady whooshing of the rain outside and carefully flex all of your joints. You're content to find that you're at a steady three out of ten everywhere.

You settle back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket around you tighter. It's not scary to be by yourself, especially not in the cabin,  but Chan's presence is definitely missed. You decide to fill the silence with television, something low stakes and stupid that you can listen to while you scroll on your phone.

However, the microscopic roku remote has decided to go missing, and after digging through the couch cushions twice, you sit back with a huff. You suppose your phone will do for now.

You open YouTube with the intent to watch one of your favorite Let's Play videos, but as you scroll through your homepage, something catches your eye. The title makes you pause:

Q&A: Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome (aka The Werewolf Gene)

The algorithm strikes again, you suppose.

The video was posted a little over a month ago and has a substantial amount of views and comments. The creator themselves has well over 100k subscribers. It looks perfectly legit. Before you can overcomplicate it and talk yourself out of it, you press play.

“Hi everyone!” The guy on the video has a soft, smiling face, accented by round, thin-rimmed glasses. “Welcome or welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, I'm Seungmin, and I have GLS, which stands for Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Or, to put it simply, I have the werewolf gene.”

You are immediately invested.

“I set up a question box on Instagram a couple days ago, and you guys really went to town.” Seungmin chuckles. “So I'll answer a few of those in this video.”

The first few questions are simple enough– what made him suspect he had it, the diagnostic process, how his family reacted. He answers every question thoughtfully and thoroughly in a way that makes you learn more than you thought you needed to.

You're writing down the fact that people with GLS tend to need more red meat than dark meat in their diet when he starts reading out the next question. 

“@jutdae asks, ‘how does the enhanced sense thing not drive you crazy?’” Seungmin lets out a little laugh. “So, the sense thing is kind of tricky for non-GLS people to understand. On a regular day, it might be enhanced, but maybe only 50% better than most people. The real issue is when rut or heat cycles start.”

You drop your phone, cursing when it slips right into the couch cushions.

“During a rut–” Seungmin's muffled voice continues as you fish around for your phone. “-- it's probably around 150% better. And our body temperature will skyrocket, like a constant fever type. The extra sensory input can cause a lot of restless energy too, so we're always feeling like we want to crawl out of our skin. Thankfully ruts, or heats for AFAB people, only happen once every three months, for about a week.”

You finally find your phone, heart pounding as you fumble to hold it still. The boy on your screen adjusts his glasses before continuing, entirely unaware how he's just flipped your life on its head.

“Well, that's for people who've presented for a while. When you first present with symptoms, you can get your rut every month. And that's… an entirely different type of intense. I surely don't miss that.”

Your brain might be oozing out of your ears.

You don't need to Google what a rut cycle is. You already know. It's the one aspect of GLS everyone is familiar with.

You scan through the events of the last 36 hours with unfathomable speed. It's all there. Every single symptom mentioned in this video. 

Extremely heightened senses. Restless energy. Fever-hot skin. 

Chan.

Chan hasn't been able to sit still. Chan's skin is hot to the touch. Chan keeps telling you when your pain is about to start because he can smell it. Chan brought you to an isolated cabin in the mountains.

Chan is in rut. Chan's diagnosis was only finalized less than a week ago. Ergo, this is his first rut.

The sound of a car door slamming makes you jump so hard that your phone flies away from the couch and skitters onto the floor.

Shit.

You scramble to grab it, swiping out of the video before Seungmin finishes answering what you're certain are other life changing questions. You can't hear anything he's saying, laser focused on the sound of Chan's impending footsteps and the sound of rustling grocery bags.

“Babygirl,” Chan's voice vibrates from the entryway. “I'm back. You awake?”

“Yeah,” you call, forcing yourself to sound steady. You clear your throat. “Yes, I'm up.”

You hear him put the bags down and toe off his sneakers, socked feet padding into the room where you are, undoubtedly, staring like a ghost came through the door and robbed you of your possessions. You fight to fix your expression into something normal, but all of that goes out the window when he steps into the threshold.

He's soaked. The rain has soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his chest and highlight every cut of his muscle. His curls are wild, some of them plastered to his forehead while others seem to be competing for the best pose. There's water dripping down his neck an–

You find a spot on the wall to look at instead. 

“Sorry I took so long.” He brushes his hair off of his face. “The store closest was closed, had to run way into town.”

“It's fine,” you squeak. He looks at you, eyebrows furred. “I was fine, just watched some YouTube. I wasn't up for long.”

He tilts his head, studying you with his nearly impossibly dark eyes. His lips push up, almost like he's pouting, but you watch as confusion takes over his gaze. He squints, and you burrow yourself further into the couch. If his smell is heightened, then he probably–

“You okay?”

You nod too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Why?”

He opens his mouth to say something, moves his body as though he'll take a step towards you, but he stops. You hold eye contact for a second, feeling small and exposed among his gaze. But then he nods almost imperceptibly, turning to grab his wet sweater from the entrance. 

“I'm gonna get changed and make us some lunch. Sandwiches?”

You nod.

“Good. Find us something to watch, yeah?”

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, you collapse back onto the couch, pressing your hands against your burning cheeks.

Okay. Okay.

You're probably– definitely – making this weird. Maybe you've read too many werewolf romance novels. Chan is going through something a lot more tangible than turning into a wolf and scampering off into the moonlight, and here you are, being a degenerate as usual. He brought you here because you're his best friend. Because he needs support.

The rut thing… is just a coincidence. Or maybe not even a big deal, or something he wants you to worry about. Yes. That's it. 

Distantly, you hear the shower turn on, and everything from your neck to the crown of your head lights aflame.

The remote chooses that moment to reappear, launching itself from the couch blanket and onto the floor. You snatch it up quickly, flicking on the TV and navigating to Netflix. You need something light. Something stupid. Something to fizzle out the charged energy in the atmosphere.

He'll handle himself… however that may be. You repeat this to yourself as you scroll through the comedy section, eyes blurring at the words in front of you. It's none of your business, anyway. You have one job right now, and that's finding something to watch.

You settle on a cooking show when you hear him coming down the stairs again. You focus on the TV, your mantra echoing around your skull as though you have no brain.

Everything is fine. You're fine. He's fine. 

“Worst Cooks in America?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. He's standing behind the couch, now wearing dry clothes– a zip up sweatshirt and loose sweats. You notice, entirely by accident, that there's no shirt under the sweater. Just plain, exposed skin.

Great. 

You hum out a noncommittal answer, just as he turns and heads to the kitchen, mentioning as he goes that he's using roast beef.  You listen to the sound of the fridge opening and the hum of the toaster as he plugs it in, no doubt solely to put your bread to toast, the same way you've eaten a sandwich since you were eight years old.

You can do this. You can act normal. You're an adult, and you have been for a few years. Things don’t have to be weird just because you now know that your best friend is a delicate, walking bundle of hormones. Chan clearly trusts you enough to have you here, and you're not going to mess that up by being a disaster about it.

You hear him humming in the kitchen, puttering about through the cabinets, the clink of plates on the counter. It's so normal, so Chan, that it almost makes you forget about everything else.

You shake your head, hoping to physically dislodge the memories of the noise he made when you were scratching his neck– the deep, rumbling groan that ran through your sleep-riddled body until stopping to wake you up where you're most sensitive. It was just a noise, you make noises all the time.

When he appears in the doorway with the two plates, all smiles and soft around the edges, you take a deep breath before returning the smile. 

You can do this. You can sit down next to Chan and watch the show and be normal. Everything is fine.

Probably.

… Maybe.

Everything is not fine.

The realization comes later in the night when the darkness from the storm bleeds into the darkness of late evening. It's nearing 10pm, and you and Chan are still seated on the couch together, now on opposing sides, still watching the same cooking show.

Or pretending to.

Chan seemed to be getting worse as the evening progressed. When he first came in from outside, he seemed calmer, less tense, but now he was sitting rigid, wound up like a toy no one would release. He was sweating an almost ridiculous amount, and the zip from his hoodie was pulled down to the middle of his stomach, exposing all the skin underneath.

His breaths were coming in short pants now. He had a steady grip on the fabric of his sweats, and you were almost certain that he'd tear a hole in them with the way he was grabbing them.

You weren't sure what to do.

You had tried nudging him with your foot gently a while ago, but when your skin made contact, he made another low sound in his throat that shot right up your leg and into your core. You pulled your foot away quickly, apologizing, making sure to press your knees together so the scent of arousal wouldn't reach him. 

And that was before he had started panting like… well, a dog. Now you weren't sure you'd be able to reach him through the fog of his own mind even if you screamed right in his face.

You're about to try saying something, anything as the episode that was playing ends, but he shoots up off the couch before you can think of words to say. He's pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, visibly shaking with the effort of breathing normally.

“Chan,” you start.

He holds up a hand. “I'm– I'm okay,” he breathes. 

He's not. 

“The rain, I think,” he grits out. “Too loud. Too much. You're okay, though?”

Of course Chan would find the time to check on you while going through his own crisis. You sit up a little on the couch, staring at him even though he has his eyes covered. The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying: “Do I smell okay?”

He grunts. You suddenly understand why cavepeople had so many kids. 

“Smell fine,” he breathes. He slides his hands down his face, fixing his gaze away from you. “You do, I mean. You smell good.”

It dawns on you then that maybe the newly awakened wolf-like part of his consciousness is reacting to your smell because you're a girl, and he's in a rut. Maybe you should leave the room, give him some space?

You're trying to find a way to ask if that's what he needs without giving away what you know, but he fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie again, wanting to tug it down some more. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then drops his hand.

“I think I need a second,” he says. His hands are twitching at his side. “Need my room. Need the quiet, yeah?”

You nod. That's fine. It's for the best anyway, right?  “That's okay. You can come back when you're ready.”

He nods, still not looking at you. There's a moment where he seems to hesitate, but whatever internal war he's having ends quickly, and he basically runs up the stairs. Just before you hear his door close, you hear the sound of his hoodie zipping down all the way.

Heat floods your face as you turn back to the show.

After a while of still failing to really pay attention, you pull your phone out from under the blanket. Despite the pure, unfiltered desire thrumming through your veins, you still want to help Chan. It's bothering you how bothered he is, how helpless he seems. There has to be something you can do for him.

You type, How to help a werewolf in a rut into your search bar, and after realizing very quickly that that's actually the title of an erotica series, you change your search to something more medical sounding.

It takes trial and error, but GLS and Rut Cycles Help seems to give you the best results.

You find a forum on a website dedicated to rare genetic disorders. It’s the one link that seems to have real information, ironically nestled between a fanfiction website and Twitter. 

You stop on a thread that catches your attention:

Non-GLS Roommate Here: Any way I can help with heats?

Not in that way, they write. But my roommate just presented with this disorder and she's absolutely miserable, and I feel so bad. I'm not trying to fuck her, but is there anything I can do to help?? Meds? Chocolate?? Leaving her alone??

There are only a handful of responses, mostly people lol-ing about how non-lycanthropes always think a heat cycle is like a period. One answer sticks out to you:

if it's her first heat, she's probably running a pretty high temp. make her some cold drinks to bring the temperature down and the hormones may follow. that used to work for me. ideally, try to convince her to take a cold shower, but her instincts might be telling her not to. it's a delicate game lol. don't press the shower thing if you don't want her to bite. like, literally. AFAB lycanthropes have a thing for biting idk

It makes sense now why Chan looked better when he came in from the rain. It was, essentially, the cold shower that he needed. You wonder briefly if you could convince him to go back out, but you decide against it. It's dark now, and you don't need him getting hurt.

So, instead, you peel yourself away from the couch and head into the kitchen. There's tons of juice cartons already in the fridge, but you bypass them, instead grabbing the bag of lemons and the carton of blueberries. 

The first time you made lemonade for Chan, the two of you were in fifth grade. You wanted to save money for the new and extremely expensive ride-on jeep that you saw in the store, and the only thing you could think to do was sell lemonade. You forced Chan (who had no interest in the car but wanted to help anyway) to sit down and taste batch after batch of your lemonade.

After he threatened to tell your parents you were trying to poison him, you made one last batch of the lemonade, and on a whim, dumped some blueberry syrup into it. He grumbled as he took the cup, but he couldn't hide his satisfied smile.

“That's the one,” he grinned. 

You never did save the money for the car, but you kept the lemonade recipe anyway. There was nothing your blueberry lemonade couldn't fix.

And you were prepared to add rut fevers to that list.

You dump a ton of ice in Chan's reusable water bottle before pouring the lemonade over it, putting the top on and swirling it around. You take a sip first, nodding in contentment when it nearly freezes the back of your throat.

With your phone in your back pocket and the lemonade in hand, you make your way up the stairs, pausing in front of Chan's bedroom door. A feeling of nervousness washes over you, but you beat it down with a stick. You're just delivering some lemonade. You'll be fine.

“Channie,” your voice is tentative as you knock. “You okay? I brought you a surprise.”

You listen carefully. You can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You don't wanna bang or yell, knowing his ears are probably sensitive already. You knock gently again, really straining your ears to hear.

He must be asleep, you think. You'll just leave the cup on the nightstand for him to find when he wakes up. You turn the doorknob and push open the door and–

Subsequently drop the cup on the floor.

Chan is not asleep.

Chan is very much awake.

He can't see you, no, because his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the headboard of his bed. His face and ears are red, and his lips are extra plump. You wonder why until he bites down on his bottom lip, hard.

You let your eyes trail down. He's touching himself.

Oh.

One of his hands is wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously like it's just not enough. The other hand is white knuckling the pillow you slept on last night, bringing it up to his face so he can no doubt inhale whatever leftover scent is on it. 

He has no idea that you're in the room. The pillow is already carrying your scent, so there's no intrusion to his senses. You should look away. You should go, you should…

You can't look away.

His hips are thrusting upwards to meet his hand now, his entire body writhing on the bed like he's trying to find the perfect spot. With his sweater open, you can see the contraction of his ab muscles as he moves, all the hard contours of his body chasing his pleasure. You watch as he twists his wrist, thumb sliding across the slit of his cock and smearing precum down the shaft. 

You hear him make a sound, almost like he's grunting, and then he's mumbling something under his breath. It's low, too low for you to really hear it, but when he speaks again, you definitely understand.

"Babygirl," he groans. He squeezes his cock at the base before stroking it again. "F-fuck, babygirl."

It's then that you squeak, slamming a hand over your mouth almost immediately. His eyes fly open and he shoots up, face panicked, but he doesn't stop moving his hand.

"I'm-- I'm sorry," you manage. "I came to-- I just-- Oh my God."

Chan's eyes are wild as he looks at you. His chest is heaving and his curls are sticking up all over the place. He looks pained and conflicted, likely warring within himself about whether he should stop or not. From the way his ears turn a deep shade of red, you can tell he thinks that he should.

He doesn't, though. He's still jacking himself off, faster and faster, even as he gives you a devastatingly desperate look.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm sorry. I can't-- you just smell so fucking good and I–” He pants, looking at you with eyes that can barely stay open. “I can't stop. Babygirl, make me stop."

Your brain is malfunctioning, but the part of it that can still process information has taken notice of what he's saying. You were right earlier. It's your smell. Your smell is driving him crazy because you're a fertile, childbearing aged female. It's not poorly contained last or a bad decision on his part.

It's biology. It's what that primal part of his brain needs.

Your body goes hot as you think of your next words.

"You..." you swallow around nothing. You're wearing socks, but the cold from the floor seems to seep into your feet. "You don't– um. Do you… need help?”

His pupils blow.

"I don't… I don't want to hurt you," he whines, chest heaving as his fist pumps faster. "You shouldn't."

"But I want to help," you breathe. You take a step closer to the bed, legs shaking from the sheer intensity of how fast your arousal hits. "What if I want to help?"

He stops then, staring at you with the same intensity he had last night. You feel stripped, exposed, but you don't feel unsafe.

You take another step closer.

"Chan," you whisper. You're at the foot of the bed now. "What if I want to?"

He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

"I won't… touch you if you don't want me to." You take another step to the side of the bed, feeling somewhat bold under his gaze. "But I'll... I'll let you touch me, if you need. Whatever you want. Just... just tell me what to do."

You're only a couple steps away now. Chan is practically shaking with the effort it takes not to move, to wait for your permission. It's then that you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move, and all of the power shifts to you.

You're standing right next to him now, the two of you locked in an intensely heated gaze. He reaches for you silently with the hand not fisted around his cock, moving slowly like you'll dissolve if he's too eager. When you nod, his hand slides down the length of your arm, fingers interlacing.

Then–

"Please," he whispers. His voice cracks on the lone syllable. "Please, babygirl. I need you.”

He brings the hand he's holding over to his already throbbing cock, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive skin on his tip. His head rolls back again and his hips buck up. You try not to shiver.

"I just... I just need this," he breathes. "Please. I won't touch you, I'll be good."

Maybe it's the desperation in his voice. Maybe it's the way his eyes look so innocent, absolutely contrasting what he's begging you to do. Whatever it is, you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips, throat feeling incredibly dry as you stare down at him.

You wrap your fingers around his cock tentatively, not missing the way his body seems to come alive at your touch, and start moving up and down. He's already so hard, his entire shaft coated in his precum so you can slide up and down with ease. The sounds he's making are going straight to your core, and you can feel the way your underwear is sticking to you.

"Tight," he grunts. "Tighter, please."

You tighten your grip, speeding up a little bit. You feel him thrusting upwards to meet your hand, his hand squeezing yours like he needs the support to ground himself. You let your thumb brush over his tip, using his precum as lube to give him even more friction.

He cries out, back arching. "Yes," he chokes out. "Fuck, babygirl, do that again.”

You do, swiping your thumb across the slit and spreading more precum over him. It makes everything slicker and wetter, and the way you're able to move faster now has him moaning nonsensical little things.

His hips are bucking up harder now, and you watch as his abs tense and release, the hand not holding yours going up to tug on his hair. Your body feels like a loaded stick of dynamite, and you're so careful to keep your hips still, knowing how badly you want friction.

"M’close," he breathes. "Fuck, babygirl. You feel so good."

You pump faster, giving him the extra tightness and friction that he needs. You watch as the hand in his hair drops to his stomach, nails digging into his abs.

You wonder how long he was in here like this, pained and desperate. You try not to think about him moaning your name in the empty room, fucking up into his fist as he thinks about you, chasing your scent on his pillow.

Just because of the rut, your brain supplies. Because it would be absurd to think otherwise.

You glance up at his face. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as he pants and grunts and makes other sounds in the air. The look on his face is enough to make you clench around nothing. You've only been hot and bothered for the last 5 minutes and you already feel desperate to cum, so you can't imagine what he's going through.

You let your other hand reach up to cup his face.

"Chan," you murmur. "Look at me.”

He opens his eyes slowly, pupils completely blown as he meets your gaze. You see sweat sliding down the side of his face, and you wonder if it's from his fever or his pleasure.

"You're okay, babyboy," you whisper. His cock jumps in your hand at that. "You can cum, you know. You don't have to hold back."

"Wanna--wanna be good," he grunts. You feel him start to thrust faster. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You're doing so good, Channie. You're not hurting me."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you drop your hand from his cheek and slide it down the column of his throat, letting your nails scratch across his skin. His reaction is immediate, body spasming as he groans.

"Shit," he cries. "Yes, right– right there, Oh my God."

"Yeah?" You scrape your nails across the base of his throat again, making sure to be a bit rougher this time.

He nods quickly, the grip on your hand tightening. You take your other hand off of him, drinking up the sound of his whine before you slide it underneath his hoodie, feeling his chest up. You scrape your nails over his pecs, making him jolt a little.

"C'mon, Channie," you coo. "You're okay. I want you to cum for me."

He lets out a strangled sound, hips bucking up into your fist even faster now. His head falls back again and you see the muscles in his neck strain.

"Please," he chokes out. "I need-- I need--"

You slide your hand from his chest back up to his neck, finding the spot from earlier that made him make that deliciously memorable noise. When you drag your nails across it, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and that's the only warning you have before his entire body is convulsing with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts. "Babygirl, fuck–”

His cock pulses in your hand as he cums, releasing all over himself and your fingers. You stroke him through it, gently moving your hand up and down until he's spent.

Then, there's silence.

You're not sure what you expect. Maybe for him to turn over and go to sleep, or for him to act bashful and apologetic, letting you know it won't happen again.

You certainly aren't expecting for him to grip your hips and lift you up onto the bed. Or for him to gently push you down on your back. Or for the desperation in his face to be replaced with something harder, something more in control and dominating as he says, “Please let me eat your pussy, babygirl.”

You almost choke.

You feel like you should protest. Tell him he doesn't have to, that this is already more than you thought you would ever get. But then he's sliding his hands up under your shirt, and the only thing your mouth can form is a moan.

He's never seen you naked, always a respectable gentleman, but there's no hesitation or uncertainty in the way his hands move around your body. He's not tentative and gentle like you expected; he's touching and pinching and running his nails along your skin like he's done this before, like he knows all your spots. He reaches your chest, where you have no bra, and rubs his thumb across your already hardened nipple. Your back arches and your legs fall open for him with a groan, letting him slot himself in the now empty spot.

He pulls his hand away, moving up to your face and cupping your jaw so you can look at him. He's looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Please?”

He's asking, you know, but there's nothing gentle in the way he's looking at you. You nod as best as you can, and he brings his hand down from your jaw to your chin, fingers sliding over your lips. You feel him nudge his thumb against your bottom lip, and you take the hint.

You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his thumb inside and rub it across your tongue. He's looking down at you intensely as you swirl your tongue around his finger, and when you suck on it a little, he lets out a grunt.

"Fuck," he breathes. He pulls his thumb away, watching as a string of saliva connects it to your lips. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You nod again, but he gives a little humorless chuckle, head tilting at you.

"Use your words babygirl."

"Yes." Your voice is quiet. "Yes, I want you to.”

He stares at you for another moment. You watch his eyes dart across your face, your body, before settling on your lips again. He leans down then, hovering just above you as he licks his own lips.

"Gonna kiss you now," he murmurs. "That okay?"

You fear you look stupid, the way you're just staring up at him, jaw slacked and eyes going in and out of focus. You nod anyway, trying to act normal.

Or as normal as you can, under the circumstances.

He doesn't waste any more time after that. He leans down the rest of the way, pressing his lips against yours. It's slow at first, a sweet little thing that makes you feel warm and safe. You sigh into it, eyes fluttering closed.

But then he licks a stripe across your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic little whimper, lips falling open just enough for him to slot his tongue in your mouth. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. It's desperate, burning, hot and filthy. He's licking into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lips. You try to press your thighs together again, but his strong, muscular slab of body is between them, forcing them open.

His hands slide down your sides and settle on your hips. Your shorts do nothing as a barrier, and you feel every modicum of heat in his hands. He slips those warm hands into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, sliding them down your body antagonizingly slowly.

He sits back on his knees then, pulling them both all the way off before tossing them to the side. Then he leans forward again, pressing wet kisses to the skin right below your belly button.

"Chan," you breathe.

"S'okay baby," he mumbles against your skin. You feel a new wave of wetness flow through you. How could your usual nickname be even hotter with half of it missing?

Then he's moving his mouth down, down, down, and you feel him pressing his nose to your slit.

"Oh god," you whine.

"I know," he murmurs. You feel his tongue press against your clit, and your entire body spasms. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing your thighs to hold them open. "I know babygirl.”

He licks you again, making you groan out loud. You can't help but bring one hand up to his curls, weaving your fingers through them and tugging on them like you've always wanted to. He responds by moaning, the vibrations shooting straight to your core.

You feel his tongue dip lower, spreading your wetness around. He dips it into your entrance, tongue fucking you at such a languid pace you feel like you'll fall apart. You hear him groan against your cunt again, and his hands tighten on your thighs.

"So wet, baby," he murmurs. "Taste so good.”

He presses his tongue to your clit again, and you pull on his hair harder. He grunts, and you feel him rutting up against the bed, his cock hard again, chasing some form of relief. 

"Please baby," he mumbles against you. "Want you to cum for me. Please."

You know yourself, know what gets you going and what really makes you cum, so you want to tell him that it's going to take more than this, that you're not there yet, but you don't get a chance to before he's sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up and finding your spot with such accuracy your vision goes white.

You feel him suck on your clit then, swirling his tongue around it as he slides another finger inside of you. You tug on his hair again, not even realizing that you're grinding up against his face.

You feel yourself getting closer, chasing the release you've been desperate for since he pulled you onto the bed. His fingers curl inside of you again, pressing that spot and making you scream out his name.

"Yeah?" Chan groans against you, voice hoarse and desperate. "Like that? S'okay baby, let go."

"Chan," you choke. You're so, so close. "Chris. Chris.”

He moans at that, speeding up his fingers and moving his tongue even faster.  He's rocking himself up against the mattress with more urgency now, panting and moaning with his mouth pressed to your cunt.

"C'mon babygirl," he mumbles. "Need you to cum. C'mon, please. Need it."

He presses his fingers into that spot again, and you're gone. You arch up off of the bed as you cum, his name ripping itself from your throat as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt pulsing around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. He keeps licking, his moans sending vibrations straight up your spine until you're over sensitive, tugging on his hair for him to back away. He does, but not before pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh.

He sits up then, his hair sticking up all over the place from where you've been pulling on it. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his lips swollen and red from where you were kissing him. You feel his eyes roam over your body, and you know that if you look down, you'll see how your skin is flushed from your ears down to your chest.

He's still sporting a semi, but his focus isn't on that anymore. He gathers you up in his hands, pulling you with him to the top of the bed and settling you with him on the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

"Sleep," he says into your hair. You notice how his body temperature has dropped-- he doesn't feel like an inferno anymore.

You're too tired to do anything but whine gently at the way he's holding you, too relaxed and spent to say anything. You feel sleep pulling at your eyes as he fixes your shirt over you carefully.

"Ah, shit," he murmurs. "Gotta clean you up. Then I'll come right back, yeah?”

You nod, trying to fight off sleep just a little longer. He presses a kiss to your hair before sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. You feel him wipe you down gently, and you mumble out something that might've been a thank you.

He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom, coming back to join you in bed. He pulls you back on top of him, settling the blankets over the two of you.

You're asleep before he can even kiss your forehead again.

When you wake up in the morning, you do your usual pause to see what does and doesn't hurt. You're mostly pain free, you realize sleepily, except for a dull ache in your hips and knees and a pleasant soreness in your–

Oh shit.

Everything slams back into you at once. The lemonade, Chan, him begging for you in more ways than one. It feels like you've been doused in cold water and tossed off of a bridge.

You go to sit up, but when you make an attempt to move, you feel an impossibly heavy weight around your midsection. Said weight snores a bit, and you realize that it's Chan's arm draped across you.

He's sleeping soundly next to you, hair still ruffled and unruly from where you were pulling it, lips still slightly swollen and red. The blankets are pulled up to his chin, hiding his body from view.

Your face burns as you try to really remember everything that happened last night, either to orient yourself through the brain fog or torture yourself. You're not entirely sure. Chan was... he was in rut, you knew that much. And you offered to help. Then he ate you out and gave you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life, and then you fell asleep.

Typical stuff. Of course.

The memories are still there, but the reality of the situation has you panicking. His eyes are still closed, so you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of him catching you staring, but you're frozen anyway.

You're immediately hit with the overwhelming realization that you just made a mistake. There's no way you can possibly continue to keep your feelings for Chan a secret after this, no way that you can pretend you don't know what his amazingly deft fingers feel like inside of you. How would you ever be able to look him in the face again?

A vibrating sound pulls you from your spiral. For a second, you wonder if it's coming from Chan, but you recognize that, no matter what genetic issue he has, a person cannot vibrate. 

The sound is actually coming from just off the side of the bed, where your shorts and panties lay discarded. You reach over and pluck your phone from the back pocket, turning it over to see an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

You're about to send it to voicemail when your heart sinks like lead along with recognition in your chest. It's the genetic clinic.

You're untangling yourself from Chan's arms in record speed, shirking your shorts on and stepping into the hallway. He doesn't stir, thankfully, but you still close the door gently behind you anyway.

"Hello?" You breathe.

The nurse on the other side of the line greets you enthusiastically, and after confirming you are the intended recipient of the phone call, she asks you to hold while she transfers you to the doctor. You wait anxiously for a minute or two, pacing your way to the kitchen island and picking at the skin around your fingers while you listen to the generic hold music.

"Good morning," the doctor says as she comes on the line. She, too, sounds far too chipper. "I apologize for the wait, I was in the middle of rounds when your nurse flagged me down."

"That's okay," you say. Pleasantries feel superficial right now.

"Right, so. We did get some of your preliminary genetic results back," she says. You can hear pages being turned on the other side of the line. "I wanted to let you know that, unfortunately--"

The floor falls from under your feet.

"-- You did test positive for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Classical type."

You can't really hear anything else she's saying. Something about coming back in, maybe. About starting physical therapy. Taking care of yourself. You feel sick, like you might pass out. Or throw up. 

You manage to push through the rest of the conversation, your voice sounding far away even to your own ears. She lets you know that she's sending follow-up information to your email, says that it's important to have support at such a time like this, and you make a very non committal grunt of acknowledgement before ending the phone call. Your phone chatters on the island, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You can't even form a concept of a thought before your chest feels tight, like there's a rubber band stretching across your ribs and pulling taut. You skin suddenly feels like there are a million and one tiny sets of feet thrumming underneath it. It's too hot. Your shirt is choking you. It's all suddenly too much at once: last night with Chan, the diagnosis, the way you're feeling an ache building in your back.

You need to move. You need to get out.

You're up the stairs before you can really process it, standing in front of your suitcase and rifling through it with speed. You find a pair of sweats and what you’re almost certain is Chan's old hoodie, but you toss them on quickly anyway.

The air is crisp when it hits your face a few moments later. It's exactly what you need. The path around the cabin is familiar– you've walked it countless times during family trips and weekend getaways. You know exactly where to step to avoid the mud, which trees mark the loop back to the house.

You walk until your legs burn, until the tears on your face dry in the cold air. Your mind races with everything and nothing at once.

Classical EDS. Your PCP was right about it being a connective tissue disorder. EDS explains the tummy aches, the racing heart, the migraines, and most obviously, the joint pain. There's no cure. Just management. Just a lifetime of being careful, of physical therapy, of putting in insane amounts of effort to make sure your joints don't fucking disintegrate.

You find this to be the most manageable of all the issues at the moment. 

But Chan…

God, Chan. What were you thinking? He was in rut, vulnerable and needing comfort, and you just... what? Offered yourself up like some kind of heathen? Let him touch you in ways you've only dreamed about, knowing full well it would change everything?

This feels like the biggest issue to you, you realize when you pause on a tree stump. Because if you lose Chan, from something you initiated, you will lose everything else. He is the center of your universe, and everything revolves around him. You can't lose him, especially not over your own stupidity.

You think about going back. Talking to him. Maybe trying to convince him that you're fine, that he doesn't have to worry about you. That you don't like him like that, and you were just being a good friend and helping.

But then you remember his face when he came, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned out your name. The way his fingers felt inside of you. How good he smelled.

You'll never be able to forget any of it now, you realize. And it will tear you apart if you lose him because of it.

You realize you've been walking much longer than intended when you catch a glimpse of the position of the sun. The morning chill has given way to a warmer temperature, though your face still feels numb from the wind. Your joints are definitely making themselves known now.

You suppose you may as well head back, even if you don't have any idea what you’re going to do when you have to face Chan. You can't stay out and freeze.

As you round the final bend that leads back to the cabin, you see him.

Chan is standing on the front porch, shirtless despite the cold, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. He's looking in the opposite direction, but you see when your scent hits him, because he whips around and his eyes lock onto you immediately. There's a look on his face that makes your chest ache– he looks terrified, like he's been coming apart at the seams.

You both freeze in your spots, an echo of that moment at the clinic. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You notice then that his eyes are red, not the same red tint you now recognize from his rut, no. This is the red tint from that day he had to drive you to the hospital.

He's been crying.

“Where–” his voice is labored. “Babygirl. Where have you been?”

"I just..." you gesture vaguely at the path behind you. "I needed some air."

He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it, stopping himself in his tracks. "You weren't... you were gone when I woke up. Your phone was on the counter, I couldn't... I didn't know where…”

He makes a pained noise in his chest, and then you see his entire face crumble. He pulls one of his arms up to his face, covering his eyes as you hear him start to cry.

Your heart breaks in two.

You rush to him as quickly as your protesting legs will allow, taking the stairs two at a time until you're in front of him. You reach up to gently pull his arm down, but he jerks away, a wounded noise escaping from his mouth.

"No," he cries. "You shouldn't–  don't touch me. I'm sorry.”

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping to cut through his emotional fog. “Chris, please, look at me.”

“Tell me what I did.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“What did I do wrong?” His voice cracks around the words. “Last night, I couldn't… control myself. And you were so good to me and then– you were gone.”

"Chan, no." You reach for him again, and this time he lets you pull his arm down. His face is streaked with tears, those big brown eyes red and swollen. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head violently, words tumbling out around hiccups. "Then why did you leave? Why didn't you wake me up? I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't– your scent was gone and I couldn't–"

A sob cuts him off. You grab his hand and tug him towards the door. "Let's go inside. Please? It's freezing out here.”

He lets you tug him inside, at least just until you can close the door. You try to bring him over to the couch, but he's stubborn, keeping his feet planted where they are. He won't look at you, keeping his gaze downcast no matter how much you tug on his arm. You let go after a tense moment, sighing and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Chan. The clinic called,” you say softly. “Thats why I left. My results came back.”

His head snaps up at that, understanding settling over his face. “You… did you test positive for–”

“Classical Ehlers Danlos,” you supply.

He looks like he'll cry all over again, reaching his hand out to you before pulling it back to his side. He squeezes his hands in and out of fists a few times before he shakes his head, tilting his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes. “Last night… I shouldn't have–”

“Stop, please,” you cut him off, voice hoarse in the quiet. You've run out of energy. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“No, I did everything wrong. I thought I could handle it, thought it wouldn't be too much. Everyone told me it was a bad idea but I didn't want to listen, thought I could control myself.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. “What?”

He shakes his head again. “I shouldn't have said yes.”

He murmurs it, but the cabin is dead silent, so there's no way you don't hear it. There's no way you can misinterpret what he means either. Last night. He shouldn't have said yes when you asked if he needed help.

You take a step back, and you watch his face crumble a bit more. “Right.” Your voice sounds hollow. “It's fine. It was a mistake anyway."

"A mistake?" Now he looks confused through his tears. "No, that's not–"

"It's okay, Chan." You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face in half. You need to end this conversation now so you can go cry in your bed. "We can just forget it happened. You were in rut, I was... available. It's fine."

"Available." He deadpans. His gaze loses some of the previous softness. "Is that what you think? That I just... used you because you were there?”

You find yourself backing away towards the stairs, already mentally checked out. “Isn't it? You said it yourself last night, it was just my scent.”

His face flashes through so many emotions, you're not sure how you would begin parsing through them. He settles on something that looks like a mix of thinly veiled disgust and anger. He fixes his posture until he's back up to his full height now, brown eyes ablaze.

You decide to turn away from him fully at that moment. Whatever this is, this half argument you're having, it can wait until you've taken a good nap. You prepare to climb the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and one foot on a stair.

That's about as far as you make it before you feel the unmistakable heat of Chan behind you. You stifle back the gasp that threatens to spill when he presses himself right up against your back, head dipped down so he's right by your ear.

“Ask me why,” he breathes. 

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, and your entire body lights up in record time. You've forgotten how to speak, maybe.

So, you eloquently stutter out a simple, "What?"

He slides a hand around you, reaching from the base of your back all the way to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. “Babygirl. I said, ask me why.”

You swallow thickly. His voice is still hoarse and low from the crying, and it sends a shiver up your spine that rocks your body so hard, you think you would fall if not for the strong arm around you.

"Why," you breathe. The word has no conviction in it. You're getting dizzy.

He leans even closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your outer ear. "Because," he murmurs. "Yes, your scent smells so fucking good. So sweet and warm. But I don't want you because you smell good, baby. I want you because you smell like you're mine.”

You whimper involuntarily at that, and you feel him inhale sharply. His other hand reaches up to hold your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You're looking at each other now, his eyes blown wide and his pupils blown so black, there's barely any brown left.

"Do you understand me, babygirl?" He's breathing hard against you. "Even under the harsh scent of your pain, or the saccharine scent of when you're happy, something in you always smells like you belong to me. Do you know why?"

Your knees feel weak. Not from pain, but because of whatever is happening right now. You let out a pathetic mewl in Chan's hold and watch his nostrils flare. 

"Because you are mine. My mate. You hear me, baby? Mine.”

Then he's tilting your head to the side and kissing down the column of your throat, nipping just hard enough to send electricity through your body. You whine, unable to stop the way your body arches into his touch. 

He makes a low, rumbling sound in his chest, pulling away just long enough to look you in your eyes again. "Wasn't using you," he huffs, saying the word use like it leaves a nasty flavor in his mouth. "I needed you, needed your scent around me to make it better. I couldn't control myself, baby."

He spins you around so that you're facing him now, hands still wrapped around your waist. You think he's about to kiss you, but you see a wave of clarity and seriousness push everything else to the side.

“They asked me at the clinic,” he starts, shuffling with you in his arms until you're back in the living room with him. “If something happened to a family member, or if I had a girlfriend who was hurt.”

You're hanging on to every word, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I told them no to both, but I told them about the hospital, about how you called me crying cause you were in so much pain, and you just kept passing out on me. I told them about how scared I was that if I left the hospital, I would come back and you wouldn't be there. You'd be gone. It was ripping me apart.”

You reach up to touch his face without thinking, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch like he can't help himself.

“I presented because I wanted to protect you down to my very DNA. I was going so crazy about you that my body needed a way to protect me– protect you.”

“Chan,” you breathe.

“They said my inner wolf, that primal part of me, recognized it as my mate being in pain, and I was powerless to stop it. It's you, babygirl. It's always been you.”

The hopeless romantic in your heart is giddy. 

You think about how you'd tried to touch him during the drive up, how he'd pulled his hands away like he was in pain. You supposed maybe he was. Going through his first rut, stuck in an enclosed space with his mate, unable to do anything about it.

You can't imagine the amount of restraint it probably took him to remain normal. The sheer thought of it alone has you blinking back up at him, looking right in his eyes.

With the eye contact, you feel his body swell microscopically, like he's flaxing every muscle so he can look bigger, more threatening, but he is neither of those things to you.

To you he is just Chan.

You're rising up on your toes before you even know what's happening, hand sliding up Chan's neck to pull him down towards you and catching his lips in a hot, burning kiss. 

The hand around your waist tighten's its grip, slotting you even further against his body.

It feels like home. It feels like safety.

You feel his growing bulge press against you, and you hum into the kiss. 

It feels like perfection.

"M'Sorry," he slurs against your mouth. He makes no effort to pull away. "Still in rut. Sensitive."

You say nothing, sliding your free hand down his chest, over his stomach until you reach what you're looking for. You rest your hand over it softly, not grabbing or pressing, but he responds like you do, grunting and rutting up against your hand as he starts panting.

"Babygirl," he groans. "Baby, please."

You start moving your hand in earnest now, cupping his bulge through his sweats as he grinds up against you. His eyes flutter closed and he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," he grunts. "Wanna be inside. Wanna cum inside you so deep you'll never forget who you belong to. Make myself your alpha."

It's insane how your body reacts to that. You feel your clit jump in your underwear. The Alpha/Omega thing wasn't real-- or at least wasn't based on any science with the condition, but the way Chan speaks, the way his grunts sound so close to your ear, you believe it could be.

"You're gonna let me, right?" He whines. "Please? I'll make you feel so good. Been so good for me already baby. Just wanna make you cum on my cock."

Your moan gets caught in your throat when he slides a hand down your body to grip the swell of your ass. Between that and feeling him, rock solid against you, your entire body comes back to life with desperate, almost delirious need.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Channie, please. Want you. Please."

His chest vibrates with a growl and he wastes no time pushing you back until you're laying against the couch. He kneels over you, large hand reaching down and palming himself through his sweats.

He notices what you're wearing at that moment. He reaches his free hand down, gripping the material of your– his – hoodie. It's entirely too big for you, even when you're standing, but laying back like this, the material absolutely dwarfs you. 

He must like the sight of it, because you watch him grip himself tight.

"Fuck, babygirl. You don't know what you do to me. Wearing my clothes? Are you even wearing anything under that?"

Feeling bold, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater up, just enough so that he can see the expanse of skin right under it. When he looks back at your face, you give him an innocent expression, eyes wide and blinking.

He doesn't even bother taking anything off, just pulls his cock out of his sweats and starts stroking himself again. You feel your mouth go dry just from the sight of it– hard and flushed red, precum dripping from the tip. You grip the material of his sweater tighter.

“Gonna be good, baby?" he breathes. "Wanna get off like this."

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He looks fucking delicious above you, cock in hand as he strokes himself faster now, moaning at the way you look underneath him.

"Gonna make myself cum on your stomach," he grunts. "Mark you. Then I'll fuck you until you're screaming, so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You feel your cunt throbbing in your underwear. You cant help the way you whine out his name, the way you squeeze your thighs together to try to get some relief. He looks like he's going to explode just from hearing you say his name like that.

He leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch by your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel how his muscles flex under your hands as you touch him, sliding your palms up and down his chest. You find your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way he moves up and down.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathes. "Fucked my fist so many times wishing it was you.”

You wrap your arms around him, one hand going up to that special spot at the base of his neck. As you graze your nails against it, he turns his face, pressing his nose into the pulse point on your wrist, inhaling you and your smell.

He starts moaning louder, breath fanning across your arm as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You're so turned on from it, you feel like you might actually cum without a hand to your body.

"Babygirl," he grunts. "Baby, fuck. I'm close."

You pull him down to you, pressing his face right into your neck. You can feel how his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back, the arm by your head straining with how tightly he's gripping the couch.

"Gonna let your alpha cum on your stomach, baby? Mark you?”

You nod quickly. You feel him lean in even more, brushing his lips against the soft part of your throat where he no doubt can feel your erratic pulse. You right into his ear, and then he's groaning out your name and nipping at your throat hard, all teeth and tongue and need as he spills all over you.

He makes sure to press his body flush against you while he rides out his orgasm, so that his cum splatters all over your stomach. He grinds up against you with his hips, making sure his cock slides along the fabric of his sweater. You watch him get lost in it, eyes screwed shut as he mouths at your throat, panting and moaning through his high.

Then he stills, just a bit. He pulls away from your neck, his pupils still completely blown as he looks down at you.

You're not sure what he sees when he does. You know sweat is starting to stick to your skin, plastering little bits of your hair to your face. Despite not being touched yet, you feel absolutely cock drunk if only on the sight of Chan alone.

You can't tell if that's what he sees, but whatever it is, it makes his still-hard cock jump against where it rests on your stomach. He's pushing himself up to sit on his knees before you even remember your own name.

He slides down the couch until his face is level with your hips. He pulls the waistband of your sweats down just enough for your cunt to be exposed, and then he's leaning forward, dragging his tongue along your slit.

"Fuck," you cry, body jolting. "Chan."

He doesn't respond verbally, just hums and pulls back enough to stare at your dripping cunt. You find your hips bucking up when he lets his mouth water just enough to drool right on you.

He dives back down to your cunt and pushes his tongue inside of you. You feel him moan against you as he licks you, slow and deliberate. You can hear how wet you are, and you feel yourself throb around his tongue when you hear it.

"I kept noticing your scent change," he says against your clit. He gives it a few kitten licks before diving down and flattening his tongue on you, licking and slurping you from end to end. "Sometimes, I would look at you, or touch you, and you smelled like citrus. Couldn't figure out why."

He takes those absurdly plump lips and suctions them around your clit, one strong arm coming to hold you down when you arch up off the bed.  "Thats just your scent when you're aroused," he continues, nudging his nose against your clit. "Smells so fucking good."

You're certain you might be delirious at this point. The way Chan eats you out feels so much better than anything else you've ever felt, and his tongue has you hurdling to the crest of your orgasm faster than you can believe.

"Oh. Ohh," you whimper. "Channie, m'so close."

"That's my good girl," he murmurs. His lips are still right against your clit. "You're so perfect baby. Let me make you feel good. Want you to cum for me."

He slides his tongue back inside of you, and you feel a hand come up to play with your clit. You're so dangling off the edge, so ready to jump with the right push. You just need a little more, but then you feel a finger slide inside of you and crook up.

You're gone. You cum with a shout of Chan's name, arching up off of the couch as your body shakes from the intensity of it all. He licks you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine and wiggle around from the sensitivity.

He sits back on his knees again, watching you pant on the couch as you try to collect yourself. You look over at him when you catch your breath, and you see him licking his fingers clean.

He leans over you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. You don't bother asking first, just slot his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. It's absolutely wet and filthy, the flavor of yourself bursting over your tongue when he swipes into your mouth. You suck on his tongue, hard, and he groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under the sweater to touch your bare skin.

"Gonna fuck you good now," he grunts against your lips. You whine and press your body into his. "Okay, baby? Do you think you're ready for me?"

"Yes, Chris," you sigh. He pulls away from the kiss gently to stare at you. Despite the haze of his rut, you can see a hesitancy in his eyes, like there's something he wants but he's not saying. It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots.

"Please, Alpha?" you whine.

That seems to be the magic word, because he's lifting you up into his arms and standing up from the couch immediately. In a split second, you're pressed up against the wall next to the TV. You're very thankful for the layer between your bare skin and the freezing cold wall.

He wraps your legs around his waist, and suddenly you can feel the heat of his erection right on you. He presses his cock between your folds, holding you tight while he ruts up into you. 

You're so wet that the head catches against your entrance every so often, making both of you moan into each others mouths.

"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically soft at a moment like this. "'m so grateful. So--" He lets out a pant, eyes rolling back as he lets his head drop back too. "Fuck."

You know Chan well enough to know what he's trying to say. He's thanking you for accepting him, for coming back to him, for letting him be vulnerable.

How could you not? He was so distressed by your wellbeing that a distant part of his DNA woke up to protect you. He ignored his doctor's orders to take you on this trip because he knew you needed it. He was content to suffer through his first rut in silence if it meant just taking care of you.

How could you not love all that he is?

You learn forward and nip him right as his pulse point, and his whole body jerks. You know werewolf lore, know that a bite there means a forever. You don't have the same genetic syndrome, but God do you want to be in his arms forever. You don't even feel like you need to question it.

His eyes, heavily lidded, find their way to your face. "You know what that bite means, right baby?" His voice is hoarse, and even when he clears his throat at your responding nod, it doesn't get better. "You wanna mark me there, babygirl? Make me yours?”

You nod, sliding your mouth up his throat until your lips are pressed right against his ear. You slide your tongue over his lobe and tug on it. "Please alpha. Wanna show everyone who you belong to."

He snakes a hand up your back until he finds your hair, fingers tangling in the roots as he grips, pulling your head back. "I mark you first," he grits out. "Let alpha take care of you."

You can't help the way you go pliant, letting your head fall to one side just enough to expose your neck to him. You watch his eyes and make your expression as wanting as possible.

He groans at that, finally pulling you away from the wall just enough so that he can line himself up. He pushes his tip right into you, and you press your forehead against his, the mixed sounds of your breathing being the only thing filling the atmosphere.

"I love you," he sighs. Your heart squeezes in your chest. "Gonna take such good care of you always, yeah?"

"I love you more, Chan," is your breathy reply.

"I'll give you everything," he sighs. "Everything you want. I just need you to come on my cock first, yeah? The alpha's got you. I got you."

Then he's pushing in slowly, and you both sigh as he bottoms out. You cling to him, pressing your face into his neck as he fucks you slowly into the wall.

He keeps it slow, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your forehead and hair, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how you were made just for him. You're already feeling the pressure building up in your stomach again, barely paying attention to what he's saying. 

"Gonna breed this tight little pussy," he murmurs at some point. You do hear that, and you clench hard around him, making him groan.

"Oh fuck," he gasps. "You want my seed, huh? Want me to fuck my seed in you, angel?"

Your walls around him again, swallowing him up. You know you can't get pregnant-- birth control and all of that-- but the idea of him filling you up has your body begging for more. You dig your nails into the skin of his back and you feel him throb inside of you. He makes a sound between a grunt and a moan, slamming his hips into yours, cock sliding into you deeper than before.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, m'so close already. Think you can you cum with me angel? Hm?"

You nod, clinging to his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock. It feels so good, too good, and you're already so close yourself.

"Chris," you whine. "I'm– fuck, I'm close."

"I know, babygirl," He sounds so wrecked. "I'm right behind you. You can cum for me baby. Cum for your alpha. Want you to cum on me, please."

He presses a kiss to your neck, right over your pulse point, and that's all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name, letting him fuck you through it while your cunt pulsates around him. You feel him twitch in you, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he slams into you one last time, spilling all his cum inside of you.

He bites you then.

Its not painful, not really, because he doesn't break skin. His teeth aren't sharp enough for that. The bite is more performative than anything, but it sends a shockwave through your body.

 It's a strange feeling, almost like your blood is simmering under your skin, but you're so lost in the bliss of your orgasm that you don't even care. It feels right, anyhow. Like the final missing piece to a puzzle you've been spending a lifetime constructing.

He stays there for a second, sucking a bruise into your neck. His hands are shaking, but he's holding you tight enough that you don't even worry about falling.

Then, he licks the spot on your neck where he bit, soothing whatever pain he might've caused. He pulls away from you just enough to press a kiss to your lips, still holding you up with his cock in you.

"I love you," he whispers. "My mate. Mine."

You reach a hand up to touch his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving away to the instincts thrumming under his skin. You take your fingers and trace them along the column of his throat, stopping just under his Adam's apple. 

You don't say anything at first, just lean forward and press your lips against the same spot. Your bite is more restrained, more gentle. He hisses out a strangled sound, and you would assume it was pain if you didn't feel his cock pulse in you.

When you pull away, you look at him, a small smile on both of your incredibly fucked out faces. You lean forward and press a little kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," is your quiet reply. "My mate."

As promised, he's so gentle with you afterwards, cleaning you up and giving you your medication when he scents your hips are about to ache. The entire ordeal is so familiar, so cozy, you wonder how you could've ever let yourself believe that Chan didn't love you too.

Hours later, when you're cuddled together on the couch, dozing off in his lap, you hear him whispering something against your hair. Your mind is so muddled with sleep you can barely make out the words he's saying.

You string together something about mates, something about how he'll protect you, how you're his everything, how he loves you so much.

It doesn't really matter though. You know already, because he's yours, and you're his.

His everything.

[chaepink]

I have a small question! Can we get some time whenever you are up for it, Maybe some more of the Yan!sub boys? c:

pathetic sub!yandere boys ♡ pt. 2

pathetic yet adorable yandere boys that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask them to do.

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist | part one

dom!reader, previous stalking, unhealthy relationship, pet play, bondage, use of blindfold, mention of strap/cock, mention of choking, mention of marking

note: part two cause part one did so well!

Yandere subs that are so obsessed with you that they'll do anything you ask, sexual or not. Ask them for some homework answers? They'll steal the answer sheet for the week's homework for you from the teacher's desk undetected. You've been craving certain snacks and tell them that? Weird enough, you find a pile of those snacks on your bed the next day with a note that has a heart on it that lets you know exactly who it's from.

But in bed? That's a whole different story. Believe me when I say that they want to feel weak and small underneath you in bed. Choke them, spank them, edge or overstimulate them, and they'll babble out 'thank you's to whatever pleasure you're giving them. Such a good boy that just wants to be obedient for you.

Tell them to sit? They'll sit mere seconds later, looking up at you for your next command. Tell them to make you feel good? They'll make you cum as if their life depends on it. You're gonna have to yank their hair so that they don't overstimulate you, making them whimper at the pain as they look up at you with sad puppy eyes, asking you what they did wrong.

They're so desperate to please you that they'll hack into your phone to search your search/porn history for stuff that you want to do to them but haven't asked yet. It's not like you haven't caught them doing so either.

You like pet play? You find them in your room with nothing but a collar around their neck, a leash that's connected to said collar on the floor in front of you as if its beckoning you to grab it, a pair of cat/bunny/dog ears on their head that looks so real that its as if they're actually connected to his head, and- oh? whats that buzzing? Turns out that they put in a tail vibrator in themself too! what a surprise! How about you call them a good boy and fuck him until he can't think anymore as a reward? Watch as he mewls like a slut when you take out the vibrator before pushing it back in him.

What about bondage? Well you'll find them tied up oh so prettily on your bed with some red rope that compliments their skin so well. They'll already be prepped, of course, not wanting to waste time on it so that you'll fuck them quicker. Maybe they'll even have a blindfold on which will heighten his other senses. So how about you touch him all over so that he begs for you to just fuck him already. Don't listen to him though, just continue teasing him until he's soaked the blindfold with his tears and as his dick leaks out pre-cum, desperately humping the air to seek any friction. what a slut!

Turn them into such a mess that all they can think about is the way your strap/dick is hitting all the right spots in him as they lay there taking it all so well. Make him scream out in pleasure, the sounds filling the room which would surely end with an angry complaint from your neighbors complaining about the noises the following day. But he doesn't 't care, why would they when you're fucking him so well?

They're so horny that they're willing to tease you in public just so you would punish them. With some friends and he tagged along? He'll innocently grab your hand to place it on the bulge in his pants, making you widen your eyes and glare at him before he reaches forward to grab something. This makes his shirt ride up which just barely shows the pair of lace panties he's wearing underneath that are peeking out from his pants. How about you drag him to the bathroom and finger him until he cums, a hand on his mouth to silence his loud moans, hm?

About to leave the house to go somewhere with a friend? He'll say goodbye to you wearing the sluttiest outfit right when you're about to exit the door, his ass practically out and dick bulging against the fabric. You can't resist how good they look so you quickly text your friend that you have to cancel and to meet up another time before shaking off your belongings and rushing towards him with hunger in your eyes. Sure you feel bad for your friend but thats the last thing on your mind, the outfit on your yandere being the only thing that you're thinking about at the moment. The way you're looking at him makes them feel so small as if they're the prey and you're the predator but oh do they love it so much.

You know their antics are just to rile you up but you can't ignore them, not when you want to make them scream your name so bad and make them cry from pleasure. It's not your fault, really.

It's not like they're complaining either. They'll gladly get on all fours and present their lubed up ass to you the moment you tell them to. They'll turn their head back to look at you with eyes that absolutely begs you to ruin them. They're just a mere toy for you to use for your own pleasure after all.

Do whatever to them, they'll take it all like a good boy. Leave marks on him so that he can be reminded of the previous night, filthy thoughts flooding his head as he gets hard again. He'll stare at them in the mirror, heading tilting up to look at the small bruise around his neck from your choking. The red mark on his waist is obvious, reminding him of just how hard you gripped it to fuck him even deeper and faster.

Everything you do just makes them even more obsessed with you but you don't mind. After all, you're just as obsessed with them as they are with you.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[spicygrilledscorpio]

Cat got her tongue - LN

Summary: Y/n is in heat and is too shy to ask for Lando’s help. While her lovely boyfriend decided to be a tease.

Warnings: SMUT, horny!shy!reader, teaser!Lando, fingering (f!receiving), pet names, penetrative sex, unprotected (don’t do that), orgasm denial (i think that’s it lemme know if missed any)

Notes: My first fic hit 1k i’m so happy, thank you for you guys support. Also still English is not my first language so sorry if anything sounds weird. Hopes you guys enjoy 💗

_________________________________________________

Y/n is probably the shyest person Lando ever met, and that’s also his favorite thing about her. However surprisingly, Y/n and Lando have a very high sex drive. Because of y/n’s shyness, she never says no to Lando, but he always makes sure she’s ok with it of course.

However, today was another case. They were chilling on the sofa in Lando’s apartment. Her boyfriend was sitting on the ground playing Fifa while she was lying on the sofa reading her new book. Everything was going alright, Y/n managed to focus and successfully finish 2 chapters until she reached the “spicy part” of the book.

“With a groan, he pushes into her while she gasps out loud, adjusting to his size…”

Y/n’s face starts burning as she squeezes her thighs together as she looks down at her boyfriend. As much as y/n wants to ask Lando, which she knows he will be willing to help her, she’s too shy. Normally, y/n never has to ask for an orgasm, she’s actually getting too much of it. Lando’s friends tease him saying that they’re like bunnies, always on top of each other. However, in this particular situation, she needs him. Y/n tries to shift her attention back to the book, but the words just fly through her head and she can’t help but imagine Lando on top of her. Y/n’s whole body was on fire and her face practically looked like a tomato and ready to explode at any given moment.

“Lan-” Y/n can’t help but call out for his help

“Hm?” Lando asks, eyes still glued to the screen

Y/n sat up and looked at him but didn’t reply

“What’s wrong baby?” Lando turns around to look at her red face

Y/n still doesn’t reply but looks at him with teary puppy eyes, hoping he’ll get it and help her out. Lando did indeed figure out what’s going on with his girlfriend but instead of helping her out, he decided to be a tease

“Can’t help you if you don’t tell me, hm?” He questions in a teasing tone, moving up to join her on the couch, face only inches away from hers. His hands were on her hip as he guided her to straddle him. Y/n had her arms wrapped around Lando’s shoulder as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, still struggling to get her words out because of her shyness and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be satisfied. Hip grinding down onto his crotch letting out some quiet whimpers.

“Use your words, princess,” Lando said in a stern voice, whispering in her ears.

“Need you” Y/n can’t help but let out a small whimper, given she’s almost half naked, only wearing panties and Lando’s sweater, sitting on her fully clothed boyfriend.

“At least use your manners, god,” Lando says mockingly. Watching her cute face getting flushed everytime she gets shy, Lando just can’t stop teasing his beloved girlfriend. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” She mumbled into his neck

“God, you’re so fucking cute” Lando chuckled. Their hands moved down to take off her panties. His fingers start going up and down her folds, collecting your wetness. “You’re soaked”

Y/n’s face gets even redder, looking like a chili at this point. She hates it when he says things like that, just because it makes her even more embarrassed than before, which is also why he loves dirty talk, he loves seeing her crumble for him. Lando’s fingers start rubbing her clit in a circular motion, drawing soft moans from her.

“I-I’m close” Y/n moans as Lando inserts two fingers inside of of her. Thrusting in and out at a brutal speed, he starts scissoring her, touching her G-spot in every thrust. But just when she was about to cum, he took his fingers out. She finally removed her face from his neck just to look at him in confusion.

“Not yet”

“I want you to ride me” Lando whispers in her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Y/n frowns and pouts looking at him, not happy from being denied her orgasm and being demanded to ride her boyfriend. Well, not that she had a problem with it, just that she is shy, and she’s pretty much a “pillow princess”, and Lando loves her since he prefers being on top anyways. However, since he’s in the mood for teasing her to her breaking point, Lando makes her ride him.

“That’s the only way you’re getting off, princess” Lando states looking at your pouting face, extremely unsatisfied with her boyfriend.

Y/n shuffles to unzip his pants and pull down his boxer, revealing his hard member, now leaking precum. She lowers herself slowly, having a hard time adjusting to his size. After taking in all of him, Y/n starts bouncing on his cock. She tries biting her lips to muffle her moans, throwing a tantrum since she’s still not happy from her orgasm denial earlier. However, her intentions fail miserably, as Lando's hands sneak down to stimulate her clit and she can’t help but let out a loud moan. His mouth covered her nipple and start sucking it, adding to the pleasure.

Y/n’s legs were shaking from the overstimulation and her speed slowed down. She can barely ride him at this point and just grinds on him, but it wasn’t enough. She knows she needs his help, but still finds it hard to speak up.

“All you have to is ask, bunny,” Lando said as he saw her slowing down

“Please,” Y/n says with tears welling in her eyes, on the brink of rolling down.

Lando holds her hips and starts moving her up and down on him, combined with his thrusts upward, he’s hitting all the right spots. The sounds of their skins slapping together with wet sounds of her arousal and his precum filling the room. Y/n’s pretty sure that their sofa is ruined for good but that’s not their focus right now.

“Lan I’m cumming” The overwhelming feeling took over her, pushing her to the edge.

“Cum for me princess”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut as she’s about to cum “Eyes on me baby” Lando demands, always loving to see her face when she’s falling apart for him. Y/n keeps eye contact with him while she cums, just the way he likes it, and lets out a loud squeal, milking him as he spills inside her. Lando lays her down on the couch as he pulls out of her, parting her legs and staring at his cum leaking out of her hole. Lando takes his phone takes a picture and puts it in his hidden album.

“Do you have to stare?” Y/n asks, squeezing her thighs together to hide it.

Lando just chuckled and went to get a towel to clean her up.

“I love you so much, even though sometimes i think cat got your tongues, you’re so cute”

[honeytonedhottie]

HOW I MANIFESTED MY DESIRED APPEARANCE (success story)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎐

so manifesting my desired appearance in full took roughly 2 weeks, also this post is pretty long bcuz im not gatekeeping anything, im giving u guys the full story, the full scoop on how i did it so here we go...

some things that i remember doing was, before going to bed i'd either read what my desired appearance looks like (i wrote a list bcuz me as a person, i LOVE writing things down) and i'd read that list before bed like it was fact.

or if i didn't have the list with me, when i was the state akin to sleep i'd talk to myself (ik it sounds weird but its natural for me so it worked) and i'd be like "ik for a fact that i am (fill in the blank)" or "ik for a fact that i have (fill in the blank)"

and i'd just say it to myself, or sometimes when i'd shower, for every part of my body that i'd wash (i separated it into sections) and for each section i'd talk about an aspect of my appearance as though it was from someone else's POV. for example, part of my desired appearance was a difference in hair texture so i'd say "omg honey's hair is SO long and glossy". like i'd talk thru someone else's pov ABOUT my appearance in either a tone of admiration, envy, or indifference.

even if i didn't see movement a couple times or got discouraged, i went back to what feels RIGHT and thats affirming for me.

some key statements i used :

i know for a fact

i have my exact desired appearance bcuz im god and i said so

another thing that rly helped me was visualization, i was living PURELY in my imagination, completely in my head. i was REAL delulu. i have a vision board on pinterest that was SO helpful for me.

when i saw things in the 3d that didn't please me i completely disregarded it, and when i tell u COMPLETELY, i completely dismissed anything that i didn't like, or that didn't sit right with me.

another little exercise that i liked to do was actually bcuz of a bad habit. so i have a RLY bad habit of checking the 3d but i used it to my advantage. my habit was that every morning the first thing i'd do is go and look in the mirror. when i manifested my desired appearance what i'd do, is i would go to the bathroom mirror and tell my subconscious what i see. so my logic behind this was that since the subconscious didn't have any eyes i could tell my subconscious that i had the head of a unicorn and it'd believe me 💀. so i would talk to my subconscious and tell it what i saw. "i see an angel skull" "i see rly rly long lashes" "i see waist-length hair" etc etc.

i went to the end and i BASKED in it. moral of this manifestation story :

persist regardless of what u experience with ur 5 senses

time is an illusion so forget about it

dont settle for less than what u seek

go straight to the end and bathe in it bcuz u can't try and be something that u already are 

failure doesn't exist

apply

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[ervotica]

steve if he thinks you got hurt in a battle and you didn’t - the RELIEF that would wash over this man

fem!reader; steve finds you after the battle with vecna. you confess to doing something stupid, and steve cuddles you stupid ✩

For the most part, your injuries are superficial. Claret caked in a smearing line over your temple, matting a few stray curls to the side of your head, a couple of rogue handprints against your pulse point, fingerprints marked in blood on your skin, and a twisted ankle that’ll heal on its own with some ice and elevation.

You’re back in Eddie’s trailer, the curly haired boy propped against your shoulder as you wrestle him upright to wrap sheet after sheet of bandages over his midriff. Eddie can feel your panic like a dumbbell pressed to his chest, your eyes flitting upward at every sound as though something is about to jump out and savage you.

“So, you and Harrington, huh?” Eddie fixes you with a sidelong glance, corners of his mouth tipping up teasingly.

“I know. You think it’s weird, right?”

Eddie hisses as you wrap a particularly sore spot, brows pinching into a frown. He keeps talking despite the throbbing in his side.

“Not weird. Just… unexpected. I get why you didn’t tell me.” You pull his t-shirt back over his ribs - now obscured by a thick layer of padding - and twirl his hair into a frizzy ponytail at the nape of his neck while he talks, pleased for the distraction from waiting for Steve’s return.

“I didn’t tell you cause I thought you’d be weird about it or something. Like… I know what school was like for us, and I didn’t want you to think less of me because I love him. He’s a great guy, Ed.”

“You love him, huh?” he coos.

“Shut up. I hate you.” you snort.

You drop your head to Eddie’s shoulder. Maybe chasing after those demobats behind him wasn’t your smartest move, but you have your best friend — alive, whole, and almost back to his full annoying self.

You’re so diligently pleading your case to your theatrical best friend you almost miss Steve slip through the crack in the door. Your lashes twitch when he makes a beeline for you.

“Hey, honey,” he sighs. You feel every one of his muscles uncoil as he wraps himself around you, a protective hand curled over the back of your head. “I was worrying about you, sweet girl.”

“Hey, Stevie,” you coo. You feel strangely close to tears already, throat thick and clogged with it. Eddie busies himself hobbling to the kitchen in search of snacks. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, angel. Show me your leg?”

“My leg’s fine!” you blurt, speech jilted with an incredulous laugh. He turns up a few steps from death’s door, and his priority is your fat ankle. “Just…sit. Let me look at you properly, yeah?”

“Let me stay like this for a sec, okay?” He’s wrapped an arm and a leg over your body, crouched where you’re sitting on the carpeted floor. His voice is a whisper against your skin. Then louder with a question. “Whose blood is this, angel?”

“Eddie’s, probably,” you answer round a yawn. “Bats got a chunk out of him.”

“Okay.” He smears a kiss at your jaw. “Why are you so covered, baby?”

“‘Cause I’m a really great friend?” You grimace, eyes crinkling as you prepare yourself for the brunt of the confession. “And maybe… maybe ‘cause I went out there to save his ass.”

You hide your face against the hollow of Steve’s throat, feeling oddly close to crying again. The sting of tears pervades your sinuses, lips pursed in a futile attempt to keep it at bay.

“I couldn’t let him die, Stevie. He was all I had once, you know.”

“You’re too fucking sweet for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, rocking back on his heels until you’re well and truly trapped in his embrace, squished and helpless as he kisses every inch of you. “My girl. I love you, you self-sacrificing idiot.”

You snort, squeezing him with as much gusto as his injuries will allow. “For the record, Eddie’s the self-sacrificing one. Not me! Be mad at him. I’m just his knight in shining armour, duh.”

“Okay, angel.” Steve’s voice is thick, and your hands cradle his cheeks when he tilts downward to gather more of you up and into his grasp. “Don’t do it again though, okay? I was so worried about you.”

You sniff, lips smacking wetly over his jaw. “You know I’d do it for you too, handsome.”

“And I’d do anything for you. But let’s not let it come to that too often. Deal?”

“Deal.” You let him wrestle you into another squeezing cuddle. “We should just stay in bed tomorrow or something, right?” Giggling, you press your forehead to Steve’s cheek. “I think my house fell into a hole.”

“You can stay with me, angel,” he laughs. “I don’t want to be away from you, anyway.”

Eddie rolls his eyes with a groan from his firm place on the couch. “For the record, this is disgusting,” He obnoxiously crunches a - most definitely stale - Dorito between his front teeth. “But I guess this is cute, or whatever.” He points at Steve, eyes narrowed. “If you’re ever mean to her, I swear to God I will hunt you down, Harrington.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Steve shrugs, smearing yet another kiss over your face.

You suppose there’s worse ways to experience the end of the world.

[writingsforwhatever]

Summers were never supposed to hurt this much (q.hughesxreader) Part 1

summary: irrevocably in love with quinn hughes

genre: it doesn't matter

a/n: I'm afraid friends to lovers trope will always get me so here i am writing again. HEY IM BACK. ALSO I used Belly as her nickname because THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED by 'The summer I turned pretty'

~

The boat rocked gently as she leaned over the edge, her fingers skimming the cold water of the lake. It was the same lake they had grown up on, summers spent barefoot and sunburned, racing across the docks, yelling over who got the best seat in the Hughes family’s old motorboat.

She sighed and tilted her head back, staring up at the stars, which burned so bright they made the rest of the world feel impossibly small. For a fleeting moment, she let herself remember what it was like to be that little girl, Luke’s inseparable shadow, always tagging along with his brothers but always watching Quinn. He’d been everything: her childhood hero, her first heartbreak, and her now unspoken unrequited love.

The boat was alive with laughter and the occasional splash of water as the group lounged lazily in the late afternoon sun. It was one of those perfect Michigan summer days, the ones they’d spent their whole lives chasing.

Despite hearing the familiar sounds of her childhood, the crackle of the firepit in the Hughes' backyard, the pop of beer cans opening, and the unmistakable sound of Trevor Zegras telling a story too dramatic to be true floating through the air, today felt off. It wasn’t just the humidity or the lack of wind.

This summer was different.

Quinn Hughes had brought a girl home.

Her name was Fiona. She was tall and sun-kissed, with perfect white teeth and a laugh that sounded like it belonged in a movie. She fit effortlessly into the group, the way Belly had always assumed she did. But Fiona didn’t have to try. She wasn’t the girl who’d been climbing trees with Luke since they were seven or getting into splash wars with Quinn when he wasn’t busy pretending she didn’t exist. She wasn’t Luke’s best friend, or, worse, like a little sister to Quinn.

No, Fiona was the girl Quinn couldn’t stop smiling at this summer.

And it was killing her.

She sat cross-legged near the bow, her oversized hoodie pulled snug over her swimsuit. She traced the edge of her drink can absentmindedly, tuning out most of the conversation swirling around her.

It wasn’t supposed to bother her, not like this. She’d spent years mastering the art of pretending she didn’t care. Even when her heart had broken at fifteen, watching Quinn kiss some girl at a party, she’d buried it under layers of distractions . She’d survived those summers by convincing herself that Quinn didn’t see her that way and never would.

“Hey Belly, you good?” Luke asked, nudging her leg with his foot. He was sprawled out on the deck beside her, sunglasses sliding down his nose, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’re always tired,” Trevor chimed in from the driver’s seat, his signature cocky smirk firmly in place. “Or bored. Or both. Should we entertain you, princess?”

“Please don’t,” she deadpanned, chucking a pretzel at him. It hit him square in the chest, and Alex barked out a laugh.

“Easy there, Z,” Alex said, leaning back against the cooler. “She’ll throw you in the lake next.”

“She has thrown him in the lake before,” Luke added, grinning. “You deserved it, too.”

Trevor threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, She's been weird lately. What gives?”

“Nothing gives,” She muttered, rolling her eyes. Her gaze flickered, just for a moment, to Quinn and the girl sitting beside him.

“Alright, alright, back off,” Cole said, throwing an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Belly's just sick of us idiots. And honestly? Fair.”

She relaxed a little, leaning into Cole’s familiar warmth. “Thanks, Coley. At least someone’s on my side.”

This summer was supposed to be like all the others: easy, light, and uninterrupted, with her secretly pining for her best friend's oldest brother. But everything felt different now. Quinn was leaving soon, the draft was just around the corner, and with it came the fear that everything was about to change.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted as she heard Jack screaming.

“Trevor, I swear to God, if you cannonball one more time—” Jack's voice rang out across the boat as Trevor launched himself off the side, sending a massive splash in every direction.

Sitting on one of the boat's cushions with her knees pulled to her chest, she couldn’t help but laugh as Jack staggered back, water dripping from his hair and soaking through his t-shirt. He glared at Trevor, who surfaced from the water, grinning like he'd just won an Olympic medal.

“Lighten up, Jackie boy!” Trevor shouted, shaking water out of his hair.

“Jackie boy?” Jack muttered darkly, grabbing a nearby water gun and aiming it with precision. Before Trevor could react, he was drenched again.

“Can you two stop for five minutes?” Quinn’s exasperated voice cut in, holding a cooler full of drinks. He looked like he’d spent the entire day trying to keep the group from imploding, a role he’d always begrudgingly taken on as the eldest Hughes.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who takes five years to pick a movie,” Jack shot back, grabbing a towel and attempting to dry off.

“Or five years to ask a girl out,” Trevor added with a wink, earning a round of laughter from the group except for Belly, who stayed silent.

It wasn’t just the joke that got to her. It was the way Quinn barely reacted, offering only a small smile before dropping the cooler and walking over to where Fiona stood, her sundress fluttering in the breeze. It got her thinking if this was an inside joke she didn’t learn to catch.

Jack flopped onto the chair next to her, still muttering about Trevor. He glanced at her, his irritation giving way to concern. “You good, Bells? You’ve been quiet. And not like, Luke just said something stupid quiet. Like… actual quiet.”

“I’m fine,” She said automatically, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You don’t get to lie to me. You’re either mad at Luke or…” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to where Quinn and Fiona were now standing, laughing softly about something.

“Oh,” he said simply, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Nothing,” Jack said innocently, leaning back in his chair. “Just… makes sense, is all.”

“What makes sense?” she demanded, hating how defensive she sounded.

Jack sighed, smiling, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something softer. “Nothing, Bells."

She looked at him skeptically, but before she could say anything, Luke appeared, dripping wet and holding a half-empty water gun. “Jack, you’re up. Trevor’s got a death wish and I need backup.”

Jack hesitated, glancing between her and Luke. Finally, he stood, patting her shoulder as he passed. “Don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

Jack was right. This summer was supposed to be all about her and Luke before they went off to college.

~

The bonfire crackled and popped as the group settled into their usual spots, the glow dancing off their faces. It was one of those perfect summer nights where the air was crisp but not cold, the stars blanketing the sky, and the laughter around the fire felt like it could wash away any worries.

Belly sat between Luke and Alex, her legs tucked under a blanket she’d dragged out of the boathouse. The smell of marshmallows and charred wood filled the air as Trevor dramatically told some wild story about a supposed run-in with a celebrity.

“And then,” Trevor said, his hands gesturing wildly, “she looked me right in the eye and said, ‘You, sir, are not tall enough to sit in this section.’”

“You made that up,” Cole interrupted, grinning as he toasted a marshmallow.

“No, I didn’t,” Trevor shot back. “Right, Jack? Back me up here!”

Jack groaned, shaking his head. “You’re on your own with this one, Z. No way am I vouching for you.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but she was barely paying attention. She stole a glance toward Quinn, who was seated across the fire with Fiona. They were sharing a blanket, and Fiona leaned into him as he murmured something in her ear. Her chest tightened as she looked away, focusing intently on the stick in her hand.

“You okay?” Luke’s voice was quiet beside her.

She startled slightly, turning to face him. His expression was soft, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Luke gave her a look, the kind he reserved for when he was calling her out on her nonsense. “You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m not weird,” she said, poking the fire with her stick.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Come on, Bells. What’s up? You’re never this quiet during one of Z’s stories. Usually, you’re jeering him the loudest.”

She hesitated, the words stuck in her throat. She’d always been able to talk to Luke about anything, school, family, the future. But this? This wasn’t something she could admit to anyone, not even him, and especially him.

"I guess I'm just scared." She could feel the weight of his gaze.

Luke frowned, leaning closer. "Of what?"

“Everything changing,” she admitted, half heartedly lying. Her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. She glanced at him, her eyes reflecting a vulnerability she sometimes showed. “We’re all going to college soon. You and Trevor are going to be off doing your thing, Jack’s already basically a superstar, and Quinn…” She trailed off, her chest tightening at the thought. “I don’t know, Luke. It feels like everything’s going to be different this summer, and I’m not ready for it.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, letting her words settle between them. Then he tilted his head, offering a small smile. “Belly, nothing’s gonna change between us. With all of us. You know that, right? You and me? We’re solid. Always have been, always will be.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not just us, though, Luke. It’s… everyone. I mean, the draft of Quinn this year, of you guys possibly moving to other states. Doesn’t it feel different already?”

Luke followed her gaze to the group around the fire, where Jack and Trevor were bickering over the last marshmallow, Cole was making some sarcastic remark towards Alex, and Quinn was sitting with Fiona, their heads close together as they talk.

“Okay,” Luke said, turning back to her. “I get it. Stuff’s changing. But it’s not all bad, you know? We’re still us. We’ll still have summers here, bonfires and boats and all the stupid stuff we do. It’s not like we’re all gonna forget about each other.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. “I just… I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Luke said firmly, nudging her again. “I won’t let it happen. And if anyone tries to ruin our summers, I’ll throw them in the lake.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re really committed to that lake throwing thing, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Luke said, grinning. “It’s my signature move.”

“Thanks, Luke,” she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment.

“Anytime,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Just remember, I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

She pushed aside the pang of jealousy as Quinn’s laugh drifted across the fire and let herself be comforted by Luke’s presence. Because if nothing else, at least she still had Luke.

~

The morning sun filtered through the trees as she, Cole, and Alex climbed into the old Hughes’ SUV, eager to head to the little shop in town. The guys had somehow lost the coin toss the night before, and Belly had volunteered to join them.

“Hey, we’re getting grape,” Cole called out, holding up a two-liter bottle like it was a trophy.

“No one likes grape soda, you psychopath!” Alex shot back.

Belly rolled her eyes with a grin, tuning them out as she grabbed a few bags of chips and tossed them into the basket.

“Let me guess,” a voice said behind her, warm and amused. “You’re the referee for these two?”

She turned, startled, to see a guy standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the counter. He had sun-kissed blonde hair that looked like it had been bleached by endless days in the water and striking blue eyes that practically sparkled in the morning light.

Belly blinked, momentarily thrown off by how effortlessly good-looking he was. “Uh, yeah,” she managed, holding up the basket. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

He grinned. “I feel your pain. I’ve got two younger brothers. Chaos every day.”

“Tell me about it,” She said, relaxing a little. “I’m Belly, by the way.”

“Finn,” he said, extending a hand. His palm was warm and calloused, and she found herself holding on just a second too long before letting go. “You up here for the summer?”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Staying at a lake house with some… friends.”

Finn raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing but before he could respond, Cole and Alex appeared, both carrying armfuls of snacks.

“Bells, we’re set,” Alex announced, barely glancing at Finn as he dumped the snacks onto the counter.

Finn’s gaze shifted to the guys, then back to her, his smile never wavering. “So, are you a local?”

“Sort of,” Belly said. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was a kid.”

Finn chuckled. “Weird, I don’t remember seeing you. It’s a small town, outsiders kind of stand out, you know?"

“Fair enough,” she said, smiling despite herself.

Belly stepped up, placing her basket on the counter as well. She watched as he began ringing up the items, his bright blue eyes flicked up to her every so often.

“So, my cousin Jeremy is actually throwing a party this Friday night,” Finn said, breaking the silence between them. His voice was casual, but there was an undertone of something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Nothing too crazy. Just a little house party.”

She blinked at him, a bit taken aback. “A house party?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’d be cool if you came. I mean, no pressure, of course.

This is it, she thought. You’ve got one shot to say yes to something like this—to actually make this summer memorable, instead of spending it sulking and pining over Quinn Hughes, like you always do. Don’t mess it up.

Belly swallowed, Finn is really handsome.

Suddenly feeling warmer than the summer heat outside. “Uh… yeah, okay. I’ll come.” She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, her cheeks burning as she smiled.

Finn’s grin widened at her answer. “Awesome. I’ll send you the details. It’s at this place by the lake.” He scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter. “Here’s the address. The party starts around 8, but no rush. Just come whenever.”

Belly took the paper, her fingers brushing against his, and she could’ve sworn she felt a spark. Her heart was pounding, and the thought of going to this party and seeing Finn there made her stomach do flip-flops.

She never thought it was unfair that Luke didn’t know about her feelings for his brother. It was just easier that way. It was better this way, better for him, better for everyone.

Belly often tried to convince herself it was just a phase. A fleeting crush that would fade with time, like the seasons. but it never did. After all, she and Quinn didn’t see much of each other once summer ended. Quinn was always gone or caught up with his other friends.

But Jack, Jack was a different story. She likes to think Jack was too smart for his own good, even though she liked to pretend he was as oblivious as the rest of them. The way he could see right through her, though, was unnerving. Sometimes, she wondered how much easier it would be if she just let herself fall for Jack instead, or maybe even Luke. Luke, with the years of friendship they shared, a foundation so deep-rooted that it felt like solid ground beneath her feet. It would be simple with Luke. Safe. No grasping at something that could never be.

But even so, her heart still ached for Quinn.

No matter how much sense it made to move on, it had always been him, and it always would be.

~

The wooden stairs creaked softly beneath her feet. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand hovering over the railing. She smoothed her dress for what felt like the hundredth time, the faint scent of her perfume calming her nerves or at least she hoped it would.

It's just a party. It’s not a big deal, she told herself, but the thought of walking into the living room where the boys were sprawled out made her pulse quicken. She knows she will never hear the end of this.

With a deep breath, she walked in the open space of the living room. She spotted Trevor and Cole first, lounging on the couch, controllers in hand, facing her direction while Quinn, Jack, and Luke sat on the couch with their backs to her. The boys barely noticed her at first, too focused on the game.

But then Trevor looked up.

His face lit up with a grin, and he let out a dramatic whistle. “Damn, Bells! You cleaned up nice!” he hollered, dropping his controller and leaning back with an exaggerated smirk. “What’s the occasion? Hot date?”

Belly felt her cheeks flame as all eyes turned to her. “Shut up, Trevor,” she muttered, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Trevor teased, wagging his eyebrows. “Looks like someone's getting laid tonight.”

“Trevor! Oh my god.” Belly yelped, her face burning as the boys erupted into laughter.

She shot him a glare before quickly turning to Luke. “Anyway, Luke, I’m heading out.”

Luke turned to her fully, pausing the game. His face lighting up with the realization. “Oh, right! I forgot you have a date tonight. With that guy from the store, yeah?”

Jack’s head snapped up. “Store guy?”

“Yeah,” Cole chimed in, leaning forward with a knowing grin. “When we went to the shop earlier. What was his name again? Finn, right?”

At the mention of Finn’s name, Quinn spoke up, his gaze locking onto her. “Who the hell is Finn?” he asked, his tone sharper than she’d expected.

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist. It wasn’t anger or concern. it was something else entirely. Almost like disbelief, as he didn’t believe someone would ask her out.

Before she could find her voice, Cole spoke up, his tone lighter, as if trying to diffuse the tension. “I can drive you if you want, Bells. No problem.”

“No thanks,” Belly said quickly, giving him a polite smile. “I’m okay. It’s very near here so it’s fine.”

That did it. Now everyone was looking at her. Trevor, Jack, Cole, and especially Quinn. His gaze was intense, searching her face for something she couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t even know this guy?” Quinn asked, his voice quieter but no less pointed.

The room fell into an even heavier silence. The awkwardness was palpable, and Belly’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. “Just… get home safe, alright? If you need anything, call Luke. Or me. Or anyone.”

Belly’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jack,” she said softly. Her gaze flickered back to Quinn for a fleeting moment, but his expression was unreadable.

“Be safe!” Trevor called after her as she headed toward the door. “And if he turns out to be a loser, you know I’m always available.”

“Yeah, not in this lifetime, Z,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a shaky breath. She tried not to think about Quinn’s gazes thrown at her way or where the fuck could Fiona be and why isn't she with her boyfriend.

Because tonight wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be.

~

The music was loud enough to feel in her chest, a pulsing rhythm that made the entire house seem alive. She made her way through the crowd, her nerves buzzing. She spotted Finn almost immediately. He was impossible to miss. His golden blond hair catching the light like he’d stepped out of a sun-drenched daydream.

“You made it,” he said, his blue eyes locking onto hers.

“I did,” she replied, returning his smile.

Finn didn’t waste time. He introduced her to his friends and to his cousin, Jeremy. A tan Greek god who surfs in Hawaii, sometimes. They were a bit older but nice and before she knew it, she was laughing at their jokes and sipping a drink Finn handed her.

For the first time in forever, she felt 18. Wanted. Like she belonged. This, she thought, was what it felt like to be the girl someone chose. Not like the boys in high school who either ignored her or treated her like a joke. Finn wasn’t like them. He was attentive, charming, and kind.

But there was something else.

When Finn leaned in and whispered, “Want to head upstairs? It’s too loud down here,” She hesitated. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and for a moment, Jack’s words echoed in her mind: Call us if you need anything. But she brushed the thought away. She wasn’t that kid anymore. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

Upstairs, the noise dulled to a muffled thump. Finn led her into a bedroom, closing the door behind them. He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands gentle but insistent.

“You’re so pretty, Belly,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

When he kissed her, it was everything she’d imagined it would be, soft, tender, intoxicating. But it quickly grew more intense. His hands slid up her thighs, his touch burning through her skin in a way that didn’t feel right. The warmth in her chest twisted into something cold.

She froze, her breath catching. Something about it didn’t sit right, and that unease deepened with every passing second.

“Finn,” she said softly, pulling back.

He didn’t stop, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands gripped her tighter.

“Stop,” she said, louder this time, her voice trembling.

Finn leaned back just enough to look at her, his expression twisting with frustration. “What? Seriously?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “I thought this is what you wanted. You came up here with me, didn’t you?”

Belly’s heart pounded. “I said stop.”

But Finn didn’t move away. Instead, he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You’re just another tease, aren’t you? You act like you’re into it, then pull this?”

Her stomach turned at the words, anger bubbling up alongside her fear. She scrambled off the bed, keeping her distance.

“I’m leaving,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Finn’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever,” he spat, turning his back on her. “Waste of my fucking time.”

Belly didn’t wait for him to say anything else. She bolted from the room, her legs shaking as she made her way down the stairs and out of the house. The cool night air hit her like a slap, grounding her. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed a number.

Luke picked up on the third ring. “Belly? What’s wrong?”

Her voice broke as she spoke. “Can you come get me?”

The car was heavy with silence, the air thick and suffocating. Belly sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to keep her emotions from spilling out. She couldn’t bear to look at Luke. She couldn’t bear to look at anything.

Luke’s eyes darted to her every few seconds, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel. His voice broke through the stillness, low and trembling. "Belly," he said softly, but the worry in his tone hit like a hammer. "Please. Tell me what happened. Where is Finn? Did someone… Did someone do to something you? Because I swear to God, I’ll kill them."

Her throat closed, the words she needed stuck behind a wall of tears. She shook her head weakly, her voice barely audible. "Luke, please… Just drive. I just want to go home. Please."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as his grip on the wheel faltered. "Belly, I—"

"Luke," she interrupted, her voice breaking, "just drive. I’m begging you."

He exhaled sharply, his frustration and helplessness palpable, but he obeyed, focusing his attention on the road. The silence in the car was unbearable, but Belly couldn’t bring herself to break it. She could feel the weight of Luke’s concern pressing against her, and it only made her feel worse.

As they pulled into the garage, Belly barely waited for the car to come to a full stop before bolting out, her tears blurring her vision. She stumbled through the door, her breath hitching, and froze when she entered the living room.

The living room was like how she left it earlier, full. Quinn was sitting close to Fiona on the couch, Trevor and Alex sprawled lazily nearby, Jack leaning back in the armchair with a slice of pizza in hand and Cole probably sleeping in the guest room. They were all watching a movie, the quiet hum of the TV the only sound until she entered.

One by one, their eyes turned to her.

"Belly?" Jack’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. He sat up abruptly, his face a mask of confusion and alarm. "What the fuck happened? Why are you crying?"

Trevor’s reaction was instant. He stood, his voice softer but no less urgent. "Bells? What’s wrong?"

Her cheeks burned under their stares. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and foolish all at once. The tears came harder now, and her voice failed her completely. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t face their questions.

Instead, she turned on her heel and ran upstairs, her heart pounding in her chest as she slammed the door behind her.

She collapsed onto her bed, the sobs breaking free as she buried her face into the pillow. The muffled sounds of the living room faded as the tears poured out, soaking the fabric beneath her.

Her mind spiraled, the weight of the night pressing down on her like a crushing wave. Of course it wasn’t real. Of course Finn didn’t like her, not in the way she’d foolishly believed, even for a moment. Her chest tightened as the truth settled like a stone in her stomach. She’d been nothing more than a convenience to him, another girl he could charm into submission.

Her tears came faster, hotter. She thought about how she’d been so determined to forget about Quinn. She’d convinced herself she could move on, that she could prove to herself, to him, that she didn’t want him anymore. But all that resolve had led her to Finn, and Finn… he’d been a nightmare disguised as a dream.

She hated herself for falling for it, for believing even for a second that someone like Finn could actually like her. Not the way she wanted to be liked. Not for real.

Finn was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be a step forward, a reminder that the world was full of possibilities, that she could find someone who would make her feel worthy and wanted without Quinn lingering in the background of her mind.

Now, humiliation added a fresh sting to her pain. Quinn had been right. She doesn't even know the guy.

And once again, Quinn Hughes had won.

N/A: I wanna add here flashbacks from childhood and also Q is a little weird, no? LOL

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 12 thoughts! (dec 9th update)

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 12 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 227 to part 244, focusing on Cater and Deuce.

We will get the other 3 Heartslabyul boys in 2 future updates. The second part is Ace, then Trey. Riddle is last!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

We land in what seems to be a hallway at NRC. Unfortunately for me (who seeks vengeance against a certain lion for emotional damages), Leona provides no funny reaction to the bumpy travel while dream hopping. He even makes fun of those who had a hard time, calling them weak if something like that gets to them 💀 YOU'RE ALREADY ON FUCKING THIN ICE, KINGSCHOLAR

Grim gets distracted by the smell of lunchtime so he scampers off to the cafeteria to eat! But... um!??!?! Scarabia mobs in mohawks get aggressive with us.

Before they wail on us, who should appear but the owner of the dream, Deuce!! Our guy has blonde hair (it's a Japanese trope that delinquents bleach their hair). He intimidates the mobs away with some backup from dream!Trey and dream!Cater, who still appear to maintain their vice dorm leader and "#3 in Heartslabyul" positions, respectively. Sounds like Riddle is still the dorm leader as well.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater spot Leona and kind of start picking a fight with him???? They say that if Ramshackle has been taken over/absorbed by Savanaclaw, then there will be problems (or something to that effect). (SORRY, THE DIALOGUE IS SO WEIRD AND FULL OF TERMS I DON'T UNDERSTAND CUZ EVERYONE'S SOUNDING LIKE A DELINQUENTTO SOME CAPACITY)

Cute detail: it's stated that Yuu is typically seen with Ace and Deuce! So even in the world of Deuce's dream... he still thinks about their friendship!!

Leona (and Ortho), actually Being Smart, backs off and lets Deuce take Yuu + Grim over to the Heartslabyul table to eat (even though Sebek gets mad about it). Leona tells the others it's better to observe the enemy first, then demands that Idia find a way for him to listen into the conversation Yuu + Grim are having with Heartslabyul. Luckily, Idia is able to hook them up aaaaand...

We get sort of a reinactment of that part in book 1 where Trey explains the 7 dorms at NRC to us, except this time Deuce is dropping the lore in a really bombastic way.

ALRIGHT, SO. In Deuce's dream, the 7 dorms are still the same as they are irl but each dorm sort of functions like its own... gang????? And there are daily gang wars to use the facilities at school. Certain dorms rule over certain territories, and if you want to go there or do something specific then you have to beat a member of the respective dorm in a battle. Rach dorm has a suuuuper over-embellished title... THIS FEELS LIKE SOMETHING STRAIGHT OUT OF A DELINQUENT MANGA (I also want to add that the devs chose the most unhinged expressions in each character's repertoire for the following visuals:)

Heartslabyul is centered in the library; you need to pass them to borrow books.

Savanaclaw owns the botanical garden (LOL BECAUSE LEONA'S ALWAYS FUCKING NAPPING THERE *flashbacks to the time he almost kicked our shit in for stepping on his tail*). If you want any herbs or other items from the greenhouse, you need to go through Savanaclaw.

Octavinelle is in charge of the area bordering Ramshackle, around where the Mystery Shop is. Sam has apparently signed a deal with them to have his store there. You can avoid a fight with them if you pay a "toll".

Scarabia is considered moderate compared to the other dorms, but they're serious about food, as they reign over the cafeteria, as well as places on campus that produce food/ingredients, like the windmill and chicken coops. It'll be hard for you to take the Master Chef course if you aren't comfortable with constantly pummeling Scarabia kids.

Pomefiore handles the courtyard and the potionology/alchemy labs. If you have to do a makeup lesson in that department, be prepared to contend with them.

Ignihyde students usually don't come out of their territory, which is the auditorium and infirmary. hbfbyoadfadfpfas DEUCE SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS THAT ORTHO IS A NEW MEMBER AND THAT HE'S LIKE A FIERCE GUARD DOG 😭😭😭

Finally, Diasomnia has hold of the coliseum and stables. They are considered the toughest dorm and command respect, otherwise lightning will fly.

Ramshackle is basically Switzerland (ie neutral territory); the ownership is not determined by fighting but rather is determined by the headmaster. (We got no cool visual, lol)

Leona and co. try to think about ways to wake Deuce up... Since fighting seems like an everyday thing in this dream, maybe we have no choice but to go with a physical blow...? But if fighting is so normalized, maybe that wouldn't work... Plus, there are so many faces that the darkness has taken on, so it would be hard to overpower them all. They also discuss their own impressions of Deuce (ie how he looks/tries to present as an honors student versus his efforts and suspected "bad" background). In this dream, Deuce is apparently considered a top performer based on his contributions to the uh student gang wars 💀

A Heartslabyul mob rushes in and reports to Riddle that Octavinelle students are invading the library. Riddle sends Adeuce to clean up and they have this really shounen manga-esque battle where the Octa mobs call Ace and Deuce by long nicknames and Deuce even lets out an ORAORAORAORAOROARAOROAROA!!

A bunch of books are chucked around in the ensuing battle, which causes Sebek to literally FALL TO HIS KNEES and check on them. He laments that they've been damaged and is very upset by this. However, Sebek becomes truly ENRAGED when he actually opens a book and notices its contents are faulty. Like the spelling is screwed up, the pages are blank, or the writing that's there is hard to read. Sebek concludes that the contents of the books are fucked because the dreamer, Deuce, has not read these materials himself to understand them. AND DEUCE DARES TO CALL HIMSELF AN ASPIRING HONORS STUDENT???! SEBEK WON'T STAND FOR IT!!

... This fucking green haired fool shouts at Deuce and provokes a fight by shaming him 🤡 LMAO, Sebek calls the books just papers bound by a cover, IT CANNOT BE CALLED A BOOK!! He tells Adeuce to READ the damn books and then hit each other with the knowledge they gain from reading... OKAY NERD

They open up a book that should list the rules of the Queen of Hearts, but because so much of the book is blank, only like a handful of rules are written down. Deuce says that's not correct, there are WAY more rules--in fact, 810 of them! This starts to wake him up, but dream!Ace becomes darkness and tries to convince Deuce that, at NRC, only strength matters so he doesn't need to study to get to be an "honors student".

HJBAHJBAFSBHDSAHBAS HLAFHL DEUCE STARTS HAVING FLASHBACKS TO ALL THE TIMES ACE FUCKING BULLIED HIM AND DEUCE LEGITIMATELY GETS SO MAD HE FULLY WAKES UP

Wait, this is so sweet 😭😭😭 The image that Deuce has in his mind right before he wakes is his and Ace's reunion with Yuu and Grim at the end of book 6...

Deuce joins us to beat back dream!Ace. Of course Ace isn't this one, the real Ace is way more insensitive and annoying!!

Deuce starts to sort of talk down to himself. He says if his dream turned out like this, then there must have always been a part of him that "wants" to solve everything with his fists. Ortho comforts Deuce by saying that though Malleus's dream is created based on a person's desires, the output can be highly variable depending on the individual.

Sebek starts scolding Deuce again for not reading books in their entirety, and they discover one book that seems to have more information than the others. "The Story of the Trump Soldier" is a famous children's book in the Queendom of Roses, containing short stories about the Trump Card soldiers that serve the Queen of Hearts. Deuce says that he has always admired those soldiers and how cool they are, especially when they chase lawbreakers through the rose maze!

AWWWWW Deuce would beg his mom to read this book to him when he was little.. and when he finally learned how to read himself, he'd read and reread the book from front to cover. WDBHLYOIDFFIADIADF WAIT WHY IS THIS ACTUALLY SO CUTE... OTL

Deuce wants to continue reading where he left off and Sebek says the ideal way to read is in quiet so you can focus on the words. ASBHBLSAIHIDBASSD THEY CRACK A JOKE ABOUT HOW SEBEK ONLY EVER SHUTS UP WHEN HE'S READING...

Sebek seems to demonstrate genuine interest in what Deuce reads. I half anticipated him to follow up with an insult, but Sebek is actually very mindful about different reading levels. He even makes a comment that a simple children's book such as this is able to be the start of someone's love for literature, that it can still have the power to move someone as it does Deuce. That's honestly really powerful.

They then get into a conversation about picking books for each other; Sebek suggests that Deuce pick out an easy book for Yuu and Grim to read sometime. We also learn that Sebek would do this for Silver, but that Silver would get sleepy and never fully finish Sebek's recommendations. Deuce has this nice line where he goes "Even if these books are empty now, someday they will be filled", expressing his desire to become that honors student ideal for real and not just superficially.

Guys, I'm glad you like reading (I like reading too) but now is REALLY not the time for it... 🤡 The moment's cute and all (and it definitely feeds into Sebek's character arc about opening up to non-fae), yet it still feels weirdly placed to have so much casual banter when everyone knows what's at stake.

aiuaidbadab Sebek says that he will check out "The Story of the Trump Soldier" when he's out of the dream world... which is so sweet, right up until he transitions into mocking people who don't understand the emotional value of books. Silver apologizes to Deuce for Sebek's attitude and they prepare to hop into the next dream.

But wait! Where's Leona...?

... BRO WAS NAPPING ON SOME LIBRARY CHAIRS WHILE EVERYONE ELSE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE JOYS OF LITERATURE 🤡 ASJVUFEOVEOQIVib;WBIEQTOIPfwpib He finally wakes up with a stupid hot yawn and asks if they're done with their errands.

Okay, NOW we're ready for the next dream. Off we go!

We land in front of Heartslabyul dorm.

OH LORD Grim's gonna be fried up and eaten, I swear... Leona gets mad at him for clinging to his necklace while they fall out of the sky. Grim claims he didn't notice it was Leona because his hair was all over the place (Grim just grabbed what was close to him), and that leads to Leona filing a complaint to the manager (Idia). "Oi, daikon radish sprout! Make travel more convenient for me." Idia refuses, claiming he's too busy and that since travel only takes a moment, Leona can suck it up. He also has the BALLS to say Leona shouldn't pull a selfish second prince move ,adbilbiodsbiasdi AND THEN LEONA GOES HE HAS SOME CHOICE WORDS FOR HIM NEXT TIME THEY MEET FACE TO FACE, YANNO?????? Omg guys... the girlies are FIGHTING...

On the other hand, Deuce LOVED dream hopping. The wind in his face is even better than what he experiences when he rides a magical wheel. Even if he can't control where he's going while falling, he really liked the rush.

Up comes dream!Ace. He asks if Leona's over for tea or something, which makes me laugh a little because even though Leona knows how to act all proper, he LOATHES actually doing it. Anyway, Ace says that there was a Magicam notif about an urgent matter, so they're going to hold a trial. Deuce is confused that such an important announcement would be made via social media, then tells Ace off for not being in dorm uniform for the trial. Deuce also says that students from other dorms are NOT allowed to be present for trials since they're one of Heartslabyul's most sacred traditions. Riddle would behead you so fast! ... Which confuses Ace. SO YEAH FELLAS, I THINK DORM LEADER!CATER IS CONFIRMED...

Ace leaves for the trial, with Deuce chasing after him. The rest of us decide to go after them, since all the Heartslabyul students would be gathered at the trial and it will be easier to determine who the dreamer is.

But up comes... Deuce?! This must be the dream! or NPC Deuce. So we decide to deal with him early and get him out of the picture. He doesn't revert to darkness at any point, so we speculate that this is because we haven't run into the dreamer yet, or maybe because the darkness has yet to register us as a threat to the dream's stability. In any case, we tie up dream!Deuce so he doesn't interfere!

To the courtroom we go! I think it's the first time we've seen this asset...?

It's very lively inside, some students aren't in dorm uniform though.

OH MY GOOOOOD dream!Riddle is a regular ol' student now. Interestingly, he's got a little red heart as his card suit. It's a similar color and placement to Cater's diamond mark, but he shares the same suit as Ace. sdhlbabiyfaio AND HE'S NOT WARING HIS DORM UNIFORM, HE'S BREAKING A DARN RULE HIMSELF

(Trey is still vice dorm leader!)

The courtroom doors open and someone zooms in on a skateboard! It's Cater, the Heartslabyul dorm leader and our resident dreamer.

He is surprised to see students from other dorms present, especially Leona. ADBKHLADBILADBSI LEOAN LIES HIS ASS OFF ANS CLAIMS DEUCE INVITED HIM TO TEA AND CATER BELIEVES HIM

Cater takes a selfie with Leona and posts it on Magicam. Dream!Riddle interrupts to let him know the trial is starting 15 minutes late, so Cater apologizes and says they should begin for reals.

Leona and Idia have a brief exchange about dorm leadership. Most students probably want to be dorm leader more than not being dorm leader. They each express their own opinions about their title; Idia doesn't want to live under someone who is incompetent (he thinks highly of his own skills) and Leona just hates the idea of following someone else's lead. Spoken like the duo who don't have vice dorm leaders, eh...

Uuuuh so it looks like the trial is for a mob student that was too afraid of Cater to invite him to a croquet game. Cater decides to skip to the part where he gets mad and commands Riddle to behead the mob. Sebek complains about the lack of actual deliberation, but Cater dismisses it. All that he needs to render a judgment is his anger, right?

Mmm, that's interesting. Cater's being just as strict as Riddle is irl and continues to use Riddle's power as a means to punish others. His reputation is also just as scary as Riddle's is in book 1, and Cater mainly seems to be using his emotions to judge others. So in one way, yeah, Cater is laxer with the rules (he allows other students to join trials, lets people wear the wrong uniforms for important ceremonies, makes announcements via Magicam, etc.) but is still a force to be reckoned with.

Dream!Trey suggests hearing some witness testimony since there are special guests in the audience today. They have Deuce bring up witnesses, so Deuce picks Yuu and Grim. On the stand, we claim we don't know anything and the jury records our statement using their smartphones.

abhldbilasiyasoyfe THSI IS SO DUMB THAT LEONA GAVE UP TRIYNG TO UDNERSTAND THE SITUATION AND PROCEEDS TO NAP 💀

Deuce drags the still sleeping Leona up to testify. Despite being handled so roughly, he doesn't wake up one bit!! Leona mumbles something in his sleep, it's an order to Ruggie about how he wants a deluxe menchi katsu sandwich at noon. Cater announces that this is SUPER important testimony so the mobs hurry to write it down.

Last up is Silver! He's the only one that takes being questioned seriously and answers with sincerity. He is asked where he was and what he was doing at the time the grave offense was committed. Silver says probably enjoying tea in the dorm. Dream!Riddle asks why, is it his unbirthday? To which Silver says his birthday (May 15) is a little further away.

This makes dream!Trey realize it's an unbirthday, so Cater announces they MUST have a party! And... BOOM, the background goes dark with tons of neon light fixtures! Cater demands food (which I guess is the context for his new SSR's initial artwork) and has dream!Riddle DJ FOR HIM??????!?!??!?!???????? 😭OKAY, I did NOT want to side with Kingscholar but I'm afraid I have to this time... This has got to be the most nonsensical dream so far, which I guess is fitting seeing the source material www

Deuce wonders if Cater is dissatisfied with Heartslabyul irl, because the Heartslabyul in the dream seems so different. Leona drops it on us that this is actually the Heartslabyul of the PAST, when the previous dorm leader was in power. Deuce would not know about it because he's a first-year student.

BEFORE ANYONE SAYS "Omg, Cater former dorm leader theory real!!!", the game does NOT confirm this. Leona speaks about the previous dorm leader as if it was another student. He never once names Cater. (Oh, and we learn that Leona challenged his dorm leader for the seat when he was a second-year student.)

Deuce reflects and realizes he never really knew anything about the third years because he never bothered reaching out to them. YES, HERE'S A POWER OF FRIENDSHIP AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL LESSON OTL He also thinks back to book 1 and how not enough strictness (like what they are seeing now) is its own vice, like how too much strictness can also be trouble.

asfuiadofadaefi WHAT THE FUCK

Leona proposes the idea that Trey and Cater are both "using" Riddle. He compares the scenario to how people will bring up a young leader, Riddle, as a pawn in order to overthrow the previous regime (ie the lawless Heartslabyul). Then Trey and Cater become advisors to the new ruler, manipulating him in order to create the kind of country THEY want. It's a tale as old as time. anfbiyoaafiyodgovyqefoiy I HATE HOW MUCH OF A BIG BRAIN MOVE THAT IS...AND OF COURSE FUCKIGN L*ONA OF ALL PEOPLE SAYS IT

The dream!Heartslabyul boys encourage us to eat and drink. Most of us are force fed or pressured into taking a bite/sip, but Leona won’t fall for it. Cater tries to get him to drink mysterious juice from a bottle (does Leona wanna be beheaded?), but bro’s not having it.

Ortho (the one guy who cannot eat) interrupts and reminds everyone that the darkness is trying to lull them back to sleep. We then get the reveal that Trey, Riddle, AND Cater are the darkness, meaning that this Cater is a clone and the real Cater is elsewhere.

Battle time~

Aaaah so Ortho couldn’t identify Cater as a clone because apparently it takes a really strong imagination to make convincing copies??? That, and he comments that Cater sees himself an objective way?? Something, something, because this is a dream, it is hard for Ortho to determine what the true composition of something is.

LOL???? The real Cater barges in, he saw the other Cater’s Magicam post about Leona coming over for tea and got excited about it??? He sees the black sludge everywhere and is sooo confused… It’s literally the meme of the guy walking in with pizza boxes only to find the room on fire 😭

Dream!Riddle is on a rampage and beheading everyone, and THAT triggers Cater to wake up. His own dream fucked up THAT hard.

Deuce is about to be collared but Cater uses Split Card to make a bunch of clones that catch the strays of Riddle’s UM and protect Deuce. This must be the context for his new SSR's groovy!

He and some new clones join us to beat up the darkness! As they’re melting away, dream!Trey and Riddle call out to Cater AND CATER SAYS THEY’RE DISGUSTING, THE REAL TREY AnD rIDDLE QoULD NEEEEVERRR… “Could you please disappear? Bye bye ⭐️”

OH MY GOD 😭 Cater Diamond is not beating the bi allegations… First it was him excitedly running into the courtroom when he saw that LEONA was there, now he’s all like “It’s thrilling to be woken up by the prince”. I THINK WE ALL KNOW WHO THE REAL LIONKISSER IS HERE FOLKS.

zbsnsbiska Cater compliments Idia’s video an says it’s sooo cute 😂 but Idia is not thrilled with that comment.

Cater says that he’s not unhappy with Heartslabyul irl (Deuce’s misunderstanding, ig??). He actually likes the dorm the way it currently is. So I guess Leona's theory about Cater trying to revolutionize Heartslabyul wasn't true after all?? ADFHJAFBUASDUO CATER ROASTS LEONA BY SAYING HE'S NOT THE TYPE TO BE SAYING THAT BECAUSE WASN'T LEONA TRYING TO DO THIS SHIT IN BOOK 2.

ADBILABIYOAOYOIB CATER MOM MODE?????? He scolds Leona and says the Heartslabyul underclassmen are cute because they're stupid and easy to deceive, he doesn't want them to become twisted and gross because of Leona's' poor guidance. THEN CATER CLAIMS HE HIMSELF IS A KIND RELIABLE AND COOL UPPERCLASSMAN THAT WOULD NEVER EVER TAKE ADVANTAGE OF DEUCE... Is this the same guy who fucking tricked us into painting the roses red for him??? THAT Cater??? *stares at him* Leona says no way will Deuce buy that bullshit BUT DEUCE DOES INDEED BUY CATER'S BULLSHIT OTL YOU POOR SWEET SUMMER CHILD...

ADFBHUFSYUOFSOYFEO CATER CALLS SEBEK "SEBEK-CHAN"... This throws him off, because "Sebek-chan" is something his older sister calls him, but when Cater says it, it sends a shiver down his spine!

The group agrees to head to Ace's dream next. Before they depart, Cater seizes this opportunity to take a group selfie~! aberiylaiyladasd Cater wanted to take a pic of his dorm leader outfit as a souvenir, but then he says he also wants to take tons of pics of Leona-kun! (Leona says this feels like harassment adshasd) adshuvoayafeyovifpbiVIYFWPF CATER DIAMOND YOU WON'T FOOL KME, I KNIOW A LIONKISSER EHWN I SEE ONE.

Aaaand we set off to the next leg of our journey! That's it for this update.

Man. I did NOT expect a Deuce and Cater-centric update to be THIS bulky but here we are, I guess 💀

The highlight of Deuce's dream was definitely the part at the end where he shares his favorite book with Sebek. Now, I still got HUGE gripes with the pacing and how the characters continue to waste valuable time chit chatting and hanging around but that aside, I really liked what this moment did for both Deuce and Sebek's characters. We get confirmation that Deuce truly does want to work and study hard to be an honors student--and as for Sebek, we get to see him actually opening up and sharing something he genuinely loves with others. You can tell just how much he values reading; he doesn't dismiss Deuce for reading an "easy" book and sees actual value in it being a jumping point for others to get into other books. He is constantly sharing books he loves with his friend Silver and encourages Deuce to do the same for Yuu and Grim. AND THIS IS FURTHER PROOF THAT SEBEK IS THE BEST B--*is bricked into silence*

Anyway, I'm glad they didn't stop Sebek's character development in Lilia's dream. I'm definitely now getting the sense that Lilia's dream was just the initial "rude awakening" for him when he's confronted with a dose of his own racism thrown back at him. He's not used to his loving grandfather being so vitriolic to him on the basis of his race. And now in more recent updates Sebek is being exposed to the good side of students from other dorms (such as Jack), as well as connecting with them via shared interests (like he is now with Deuce). It's so adorable how Sebek promises he will check out the book Deuce loves so much once he returns to the real world, AHAHHHHHHH H HHHH H H H H H HH H H H H H H H OTL SEBEK-CHAN LEMME SQUISH YOUR CHEEKS MYR PRECIOUS BABY BOI

Something else I appreciated about Deuce's dream is how his friendship with Ace, Yuu, and Grim is made relevant. When he first runs into Yuu and co., he worries that Ramshackle has been absorbed by Savanaclaw and doesn't want to fight his friends. Then when things are cleared up, Deuce still invites Yuu and Grim to come eat with Heartslabyul. He and Ace fight together very well in his own dream--so well, in fact, that it reminds me a lot of how Silver and Sebek are perfectly coordinated with one another when they fought the flowers in GloMasq. It's Deuce's own (loving) anger towards the real Ace that ultimately wakes him up. And you can tell that Deuce places value in his relationship with Ace, Yuu, and Grim by how he acts. AND THEN WHEN HE WAKES UP HE'S THINKING OF THAT TIME WHEN ALL OF US REUNITED... HOW IS THAT NOT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME TEAR UP A LITTLE...

I thought I wouldn't enjoy Cater's dream, but I actually found it to be very fun! I loved how silly and nonsensical it was; it really tickled my Alice in Wonderland-loving bone. asdvhdvsoidsa I'M SHOCKED AT HOW MUCH WEIRDLY PLACED L*ONA CONTENT THERE WAS IN ACATER'S DREAM OTL I expected him falling asleep to be a gag at some point, and I was right (it happens in both Deuce and Cater's), BUT I WAS NOT EXPECTING CATER TO BE SUCH A LION SIMP, NOR WAS I EXPECTING L*ONA TO MAKE THAT REALLY SMART ANALOGY ABOUT A POTENTIAL HEARTSLABYUL REVOLUTION... **slams an angry fist on the ground** LITERALLY SHAKING SOBBING THROWING UP OVER HERE 🤡

The twist with the real Cater being somewhere else was really interesting, but it's a shame we never got to go deeper with this idea or get exposure to the "real" personality of his. I think there was another missed opportunity (although this would still prolong the pacing problems, lol) with dream!Deuce being taken out so early. I thought for sure that dream!Deuce would escape his binds and interrupt the trial, and then that would lead into a whole Ace Attorney style segment where they try to deduce which Deuce is "real". It would parallel how Cater's UM allows him to make clones, as well as how Cater keeps putting on an act and not showing his true self to others. At the climax of the trial, the OG Cater could make his grand appearance and the rest of his dream could still proceed like the version we really got. I DON'T KNOW, I THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN COOL TO SEE... (<- totally biased Ace Attorney fan)

That being said, Cater's dream felt... more geared toward comedy than being serious? And it's not like we haven't had dreams like that before, but it feels especially hollow because we've been waiting SO LONG for him to get more depth, be if exploring his dark side or explaining more of his general inner thoughts. It sucks we didn't get any of that.

Cater's not a character I care for a ton, but I think I saw a side of him today that's pretty funny! He was delivering banger roast after banger roast, especially when he called out Leona for trying to overthrow another regime while accusing him of doing the same. dbiabsiofobiapb Also love that we get a reminder of how underhanded Cater is (something I felt we didn't see outside of book 1 when he tricked Adeuce into doing his chores for him). He fr abuses his status as a "trustworthy" senior and accuses LEONA of corrupting the kids to gain Deuce's support 💀 That scene was so funny, it had me in stitches!

With every new dream, I think I become more and more confused about how these things even work. It feels like they offer a completely contradictory explanation or a new detail to overcomplicate the situation every update, and now I have like NO understanding of anything. What confuses me the most about this update is how BOTH Deuce and Cater claim what we saw in their dreams does not reflect what they actually want. Like... Isn't Deuce ASHAMED of his delinquent era? Doesn't he NOT want to go back to that? Isn't he trying hard to study and to be an honors student irl? That's the opposite of what the dream shows. Yeah, it would be more convenient for Deuce to understand and succeed if everything were decided with strength instead of smarts, but this is still actively NOT what he would want, especially given all the time and effort he sunk into reforming himself. Cater also very explicitly states the has ZERO interest in being dorm leader, so why is it that his dream manifested this way??? I suppose you could say he's lying (because he very much is a liar) and is hiding his true desires?? BUT EVEN THEN THIS DOESN'T MAKE TOTAL SENSE BECAUSE HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN DEUCE OVER THERE??????

So how are these supposed to be their "happiest" dreams????? THIS MAKES NO SENSE and all I'm getting from this (until the writing clarifies) is that the devs didn't actually make the dreams "happy", it's partly this way because they just wanted a convenient excuse to write scenarios that would be interesting for the players to see, such as Leona being king or delinquent Deuce or Savanaclaw Rook or whatever OTL I'm hoping this gets properly explained by the end instead of continuing to flounder and leaving the fans to come up with all the answers for themselves... (I also pray for us to stop wasting time doing nothing while the world is about to end, but given that this is an Important Part of the Pattern, I'm guessing there is no chance this is happening. A BIRD CAN ONLY DREAM.)

Alright, that's all from me. See you next main story update for Ace and Trey's dreams...!

[sweetshuga]

MS ✰ Bewitched ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

contains ���︎ smut!, strong language!, suggestive remarks!, obscene descriptions!, polyamory, hint of overstimulation, p in v (unprotected, use condoms irl), threesome, oral (m! receiving), size kink, light s&m, bondage, toys & idk a bunch of kinky stuff °~° ⚠︎

sum. Switching their clothes for a video leads to new sexual discoveries.

wc. 2.1k (2,116)

note. English is not my first language!

You watched from your place on the living room couch as Matt and Chris paced back and forth between their rooms. Seemingly exchanging clothes, laughing and talking about some type of tiktok they’re gonna film. You were only partially paying attention now—the fanfiction you were reading on your phone suddenly taking an interesting turn.

"Hey, ma?" Your head shot up at the sudden interruption, your eyes widened by a fraction when you saw their attire. They had exchanged clothes, and even their jewelleries were of the other. It’s not like they don’t wear each other’s clothes, you’ve seen them share hoodies or pants, but never fully dress as one another.

"Yeah?" You breathed out, your voice coming out a bit too shaky for your liking. "Can you please go into one of our rooms while we film a tiktok? Y’know... we can’t really show you yet." Chris said apologetically, and you nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course, tell me when you’re done." You stood up and made your way towards Matt’s room.

"Sorry about this, sweetheart, we won’t take too long ’promise," you chuckled quietly to yourself before replying with a soft "okay" and closed the door behind yourself. Immediately plopping down on Matt’s bed as you opened your phone, ready to continue reading the fanfic.

Some people might think it’s weird to read fanfictions about your boyfriend— or boyfriends in your case, but you couldn’t deny how hot it was, how much it turned you on. The suggestive part of the fanfic began and just as you got comfortable on the bed Matt walked inside the room.

You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow, "you done already?" He chuckled and shook his head no, "Chris is filming his video, I’ll do it after him." You nodded, and motioned for him to come sit beside you. "You should wear bracelets more often, it suits you..." Your voice trailed off as his hand landed on your thigh, giving it a small playful squeeze, and the seemingly innocent gesture sent shivers down your spine.

"Yeah? Maybe I should get a similar one–" he paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the Tumblr logo on your phone, the fanfiction left open and abandoned on the bed beside you. You looked at him confused before following his gaze, a small gasp escaped your lips before you quickly turned your phone off.

You sat up, flustered and embarrassed to have been caught red handed reading such a frisky fanfic about him and Chris. Stammering as you tried to find a good excuse as to why you were reading a smut fanfic in broad daylight – even if you could – but it only made it worse. "You read things like that? What was the name again?"

You looked at him for a solid minute before opening your mouth to speak, only getting out a flustered "what?" in response. The corners of Matt’s lips twitched into a small smirk, "what’s the name?" He repeated himself, his smirk threatened to grow wider with each passing second. "Simple solution," you whispered.

"Hm? And what happens in it?" You gulped softly, feeling your face heat up. "Do I have to? I mean, you can just read it yourself, I know you’ve got Tumblr on your phone." Matt laughed, the sound rich and amused, "yeah I do, but I wanna hear you tellin’ me about it, sweetheart." You couldn’t help but fidget slightly at the pet name, it was one of your faves.

"Uhm... It’s like, well," you stammered, "it’s about how much you and Chris look alike when you wear your caps backwards." You finally blurted out, biting your tongue as you waited for his reaction. "That’s... Interesting? So y’like it when we look alike huh?" He chuckled, thoroughly amused.

The bedroom door opened, and Chris peeked his head in. "I’m done," he walked fully inside the room, grinning and putting his hands on his hips in a mock attempt of display. "So, how do I look, ma?" You chuckled and sat up straight, "So fine, I’ll give you that, the kisses tee is just chefs kiss."

Chris grinned wider, "pirate girl tank or kisses tee?" Your jaw dropped, "how do you expect me to pick one? Also, why didn’t you wear the 'iconic' pirate girl tank?" You nudged Matt playfully, "we’re not recreating outfits... well, basically, but it’s more like how we dress and all—" you cut him off with a laugh, "okay, whatever you say, kid."

"Are you two done filming yet?" Nick popped his head in, looking annoyed, "’cause I’m so fucking hungry, and you keep telling me to stay in my room like what am I? One of your secret girlfriends?" Chris scoffed in faux annoyance, "we’ve only got one girl fyi, and no, Matt hasn’t filmed yet, but go ahead and eat if you’re about to starve to death."

Nick huffed, raising his eyebrows in dramatic disbelief, but didn’t say anything else as he walked away, mumbling under his breath about how ridiculous everything was. Suddenly, Matt spoke—breaking the silence. "I’ll be back," he gave your thigh one last squeeze before standing up to film the short video for tiktok.

Chris smirked and sauntered over to Matt’s bed where you were – still – laying on. Sitting on the edge as his hand absentmindedly started to caress your calves, "so, real talk, how do I look?" You hummed thoughtfully, "real talk? I think you look hot, like 'makes me wet' kinda hot." He let out a surprised yet amused laugh, "bold now ain’t we?" chuckling as he leaned closer.

"Mm... 'makes you wet' kinda hot huh?" He teased, a wolfish grin on his face as his gaze raked over your body appraisingly. "So, you gon’ show me how wet it makes you or do I have to see it myself." His tone wasn’t one of questioning, more like a commanding one as if you were obligated to show him either way. You felt pleasantly surprised, the fluttering in your abdomen growing tenfold.

However, Matt walked in before you could respond. Raising his eyebrows with a small smirk as he sensed the tension in the air. The room seemed warmer, more electric. That’s when Nick opened the door again, "I’ll be out for a bit–" he paused, having sensed the tension as well.

"Well, uh... Don’t be too loud? We don’t need another noise complaint from our neighbours, that’s just borderline embarrassing." With that, he closed Matt’s bedroom door, leaving you three alone. The front door clicked shut a few minutes later. Your mouth hung agape at Nick’s words.

"Damn, kid has no filter whatsoever." Chris chuckled, taking the fanny pack off and tossing it on Matt’s gaming chair. "Hey, easy with it," Matt said as he took off his cap. Putting it on his gaming desk before turning to look at you. Sensing their eyes on you, you suddenly felt a strong heat in your lower abdomen. Their gazes were enough to make you squirm.

"So, now that Nick is out," Chris looked at Matt before looking back at you, "we’ve the house all to ourselves," Matt continued for him. You nodded subtly, shifting slightly on the bed, trying not to show how in need you were. They weren’t stupid, knowing exactly what was happening with you as their handsome faces lit up with amused grins.

You squirmed, a muffled moan exiting your gagged mouth as your hips bucked and jerked when Chris pressed a button on the small remote, making the vibe in between your legs buzz louder. The intense sensation of the vibe, bound to stay precisely on your clit, was enough to make your eyes roll back.

Your ankles were bound as well as your wrists, making you unable to move much as the pleasure coursed through your body. You bit the gag, your back arching and hips rolling as you tried to get the vibe at least a millimeter away from your throbbing clit, but Matt held your hips down and Chris positioned the vibrator so it was exactly on your clit again.

"Aw, too much?" Matt pouted, jutting his bottom lip out in obvious mock sympathy. Your eyes glazed over as a tight knot formed in your stomach, your body trembling as you tried to fight the impending orgasm – knowing it would turn you dumb from how powerful it would be.

Just when you thought you couldn’t hold back anymore, Chris pressed the button until the vibe buzzed at max. An immediate jolt ran through your body as your eyes widened, tears of pleasure threatening to fall as you shut it back closed, loud muffled noises penetrating through the gag.

Your mind blanked when you felt the knot snap, the orgasm so powerful that you wondered if you could stay conscious. Noticing the slight overstimulation, Chris turned the vibe to a low buzz. The sensation bordered on overstimulating in your oversensitized post-orgasmic state – even if it was barely there. Matt chuckled as he took the remote from Chris and turned the vibe off, your body immediately limping into the mattress as the sensations stopped.

Chris gently untied your ankles from the bounds, but kept your wrists tied over your head. His fingers working deftly to remove the bounds from your pelvic area and tossed the vibe somewhere on the bed. Seeing your inner thighs quivering, covered in your juices, and your swollen, glistening folds on display made their cocks twitch.

They were already naked, not seeing the point in having clothes on, but kept the bracelet and rings on per your request. The tips of their hefty lengths were already dripping with precum from how aroused they were, swollen and taut with unfulfilled desires. Matt suddenly stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet while Chris took off the gag.

A few seconds later, Matt was back on the bed, now beside you as he helped you into a sitting position. Your gaze fell down to his hand that held a red silk blindfold before taking it back up to his face, your eyebrows raised. "Where did you even get that?" You asked with a small hint of amusement.

Matt just grinned, "bought it a while ago, been contemplating whether to use it or not, but I think now’s the best time to use it." Chris chuckled, "dude, I can’t believe y’had all this stuff in your closet, laying ’round like that." Matt chuckled and scooted closer to you, his erection bobbing obscenely as he moved. "C’mon, sweetheart, lemme blindfold you." You eagerly closed your eyes, not denying how much you liked this.

The blindfold cut off any source of light, making you feel a shudder of excitement. It was designed for plays like this so it wasn't a surprise that you couldn't see anything. The inability to see only heightened your other senses, every graze and touch of their hands on you seemed to make your body tremble and jolt.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your mind was a haze as Matt pounded into you with hard, deep strokes, and the slight difficulty breathing from Chris’ length down your throat added to the haze. Your mind fogging with pure unadulterated pleasure as they used your holes. Matt held your bound wrists, keeping you from moving as his other hand gripped your hip with bruising strength.

The obscene sounds of squelching from your sopping pussy being filled over and over again by Matt and the slurping sounds of your mouth working Chris filled the room along with the bed creaking underneath you. The position you were having intercourse in was a new one neither you, Matt or Chris had tried before.

Your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, but your head hung down it—allowing Chris to use your mouth. Matt’s pace quickened as he felt himself growing close with each spasm of your inner walls from your previous orgasms, the aftershocks still coursing through you.

Chris moaned as he felt the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each thrust down your throat, the sight of the bulge he was creating with his cock on your throat proving to be too much. You felt them twitch in your holes, their paces quickening and you knew they were close.

With guttural moans they came, one after the other. After a few seconds of shuddering over you, they finally pulled out, leaving you filled with their releases, but you knew better than to think it was over. Your suspicions were proven right when they coaxed you into a different position, but you weren’t complaining. After all, who could resist? They seemed to have you under their spell—bewitching indeed.

𓆩♡𓆪

ps. The fic mentioned in the beginning is actually one of my chratt fics. I know, I know, sneaky mf, but here's the link in case you wanna check it out<3 «Simple Solution»

Also, the beginning part of the actual smut was inspired by this «p link»

Chratt taglist: @bells-sturn @h3arts4nat @zombiesturniolo @urfavnickgirl @cwistofurr @goingtojohnkramershouseee @blahblahblahm @shoo-00 @ariana2saucyy @ksturnz @sturniolos4life16 @strnlslut @babysturniolo @ashleighpray23 @bl1ssfulbunn1e @ijustbelurkingmymen

♡ If you wanna be tagged on my future Chratt fics click «here» and interact with the post ♡

© sweetshuga

[theemporium]

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

series masterlist

.

Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious. 

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days  after the party, with a message from you on his screen. 

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours? 

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality. 

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything 

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy 

hockey boy: and annoying 

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance). 

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.” 

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.” 

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?” 

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?” 

Jack snorted in response. 

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted. 

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves. 

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day. 

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it. 

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out. 

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?” 

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.” 

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.” 

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again. 

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice. 

“Not sure.” 

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?” 

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him. 

“Do I need to give you a curfew?” 

“Fuck off!” 

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode. 

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted. 

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. 

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it. 

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.” 

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you. 

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.” 

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated. 

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion. 

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.” 

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.” 

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze. 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?” 

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.” 

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born. 

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.” 

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words. 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?” 

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused. 

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again. 

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?” 

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?” 

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.” 

“My training?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.” 

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinked. “You’re asking me?” 

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.” 

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer. 

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you. 

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss. 

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow. 

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again. 

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?” 

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.” 

You raised your brows. “This good?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?” 

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.” 

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. 

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you. 

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire. 

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.” 

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red. 

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much. 

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white. 

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it. 

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—” 

“For what?” 

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” 

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?” 

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.” 

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…” 

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.” 

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.” 

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response. 

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food. 

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy. 

It made his head spin, in a good way. 

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you. 

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend. 

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised. 

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend. 

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

.

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In - Part 4

Summary: Wanda and R have their first date ;)

Wanda: Sorry I missed you before you left for work. Wanna come over for dinner with us?

Y/N: Would love to :)

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who just got dumped” Darcy says as you smile at your phone.

“Who got what?”

“Carol and Maria…”

“No one dump me, there was no relationship to end” you say, locking your phone. You have noticed that Carol has been avoiding you, which is pretty idiotic, considering a lot of the trauma cases that come your way are ortho related.

That would also explain why Kamala rambled so much every time you requested a consult, so you made a note to speak to Carol about it.

“So…” Darcy ponders, and you wish she’d just drop it. She snaps her fingers. “The hot mom!”

“Her name is Wanda, and we are just talking” you refuse to look at her, knowing she can smell the bullshit from miles away.

“Something tells me talking wasn’t the only thing you did with your mouths” she insists, pulling on your sleeve.

“Fine! We kissed and it was awesome! Happy, you little pestering gnome?”

“Yes, lesbian whore. Congrats on securing a ticket to MILF paradise”

“Fuck you”

“Doctor Y/L/N” Kamala enters the room as you give Darcy the middle finger. “I can come back! Sorry!”

“Look what you’ve done” you mumble as Darcy cackles. The joy doesn’t last long, as you steal her chips. She’s too distracted making fun of you to notice.

“Hey, not fair”

You close the door and go after the resident.

“Hey, Kamala”

“Oh, hi. Doctor Danvers asked me to show you some X-Rays”

“Tell Doctor Danvers to show me herself. Or better yet, I will go directly to her. Where can I find her, Doctor Kahn?”

“Uh… I…”

“Never mind, I’ll ask Maria” you turn to leave  and Kamala screeches in horror.

“OR 2. She’s in OR 2. Please don’t do it, my Baba will never forgive me if I get kicked out of the program” the young doctor clings to your arm.

“Kamala. Get it together. It’s gonna be fine. If Carol gets mad, you can be in my service for a week” you promise and she barely stops hyperventilating.

By the time you reach the OR, Carol is done with her surgery. She stops in her tracks when your eyes meet.

“Doctor Danvers, a word?” you ask, trying to sound professional.

“Of course” she nods. Leading you to an empty scrub room, Carol opens the door for you, fidgeting. “What’s up?”

“Stop making everything so awkward. I’m not mad at you. Kamala is about to have a stress induced stroke from all the consults you send her to avoid me”

“You’re really not mad?” Carol says.

“No! I never expected anything else from you. We didn’t talk about it but I always knew what your true feelings were”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, honestly. Just, stop acting like you left me at the altar or some weird shit. We’re colleagues and friends”

“That makes me happy. I didn’t want to stop talking to you” she relaxes. “Though I have to be honest, I told Maria what happened between us”

“Is she mad?”

“Only a bit and just to me. I’ll manage to turn it around” the blonde smiles, a dreamy look on her eyes.

“If it helps, tell her I have a date on Thursday” you say, leaving the room, Carol right behind you.

“Oh, let me guess. The hot mom?” she jokes.

“Her name is Wanda!” you repeat.

“Well, let me know how the date goes?” Carol pats your shoulder, and you nod.

“Will do. Now page your resident and tell her we’re all set before she gets admitted to the Psych ward”

—

The footsteps approaching on the other side make your heart jump. You wonder if the flowers are too much, but when Wanda sees them, her face lights up and you know it was the right thing to do.

“Come on in” Wanda says, taking the flowers and then standing on her toes to kiss your cheek. “The boys are in the living room”

“Want some help with the food?”

“No, I’m almost done. It will be more helpful if you entertain the twins for a little” she says, pulling the flowers close to her chest.

“Alright, then” you’re about to kiss her when the boys walk in. They’re so excited to see you that they don’t notice how close you are to their mother.

“Y/N” Billy says, running towards you.

“Hey, kiddos” you pick them up, carrying them over your shoulder and they giggle. “Come on, there’s a new game I wanna show you”

You take your time to set everything up, explaining a bit about the game. They giggle as Crash jumps and turns in the sand of the first level, and you finish it all, including the tricky jump at the end.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Me” Tommy says, sitting next to you. They are both focused on the game, so you take advantage of the distraction to go see Wanda.

Sliding into the kitchen, you grab her by the waist.

“You scared me” she laughs, allowing you to press against her back, kissing her temple. “What’s going on?”

“I have approximately fifty seconds before they ask for my help so I’m making sure they count” you turn her around and lean forward, capturing her lips and sighing against her mouth. “You look very pretty”

“Thank you”

“You smell really nice” you add, kissing her again, making Wanda laugh. “And I really, really, like kissing you”

Wanda smiles at that, her hand caressing your cheek.

“Y/N!” the boys chant in unison.

“Like clockwork” you mutter, kissing Wanda’s forehead as you go back to the living room.

You spend a few more minutes playing with the kids, until Wanda calls everyone for dinner.

“How’s the arm, kiddo?” you say, sitting next to Billy with Tommy and Wanda in front of you. As you take a bite of the chicken, you notice a funny flavor. “Is this brocc…”

Wanda widens her eyes and kicks you under the table.

“Ouch”

“You ok?” Tommy asks, none the wiser.

“Yeah, I just bit my tongue” you lie, Wanda taking a sip of her water to hide her laugh.

“Kids, eat” she encourages them, and you get the hint. The flavor of the broccoli is hidden with the cheese, so you smile and continue to eat, enjoying every single bite.

“I’m on cleaning duty” you say as soon as everyone finishes, taking the dishes and cleaning the table.

Billy and Tommy run to the living room to continue playing, and as you get ready to wash the dishes, Wanda leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“It’s nice to have you here”

“You have an odd way of showing it, Miss Maximoff” you joke, leaning against her touch.

“In my defense, it’s the only way to get them to eat their greens” she jokes and you lean forward, your lips inches away from hers. In that precise moment, the boys call for her.

“Behave” she warns the children, pulling away to see what the fuss is about.

“Have you thought about boarding schools?” you joke and she pinches your side. “Ah, kidding! I would miss them too much”

You load the dishwasher, clean the pots and put the rest of the food on some containers. By the time you’re done, the kids are getting ready to go to bed.

“Can you come over again tomorrow?”

“If your mom wants me to, sure. I can bring the food this time so she takes a break from cooking” you offer, smiling at Wanda.

“We’ll see about that, Y/N works hard enough as it is. Say goodbye to her, boys”

Tommy and Billy wave at you, already dragging their feet. You stay on the living room, and a few minutes later Wanda comes down.

“Hi” she plops down next to you and you smile.

“All good?”

“A bit tired, that’s all. Just ignore me, you’re the one that works all those crazy hours”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m used to it by now” you shrug your shoulders.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow”

“How come?” Wanda asks when she returns, handing you a glass of red wine and sitting closer to you on the couch.

“Well, I have a really hot date coming up and I need to plan every detail”

“She sounds like a lucky girl” Wanda blushes, biting her lip.

“Oh, I’m the lucky one” you say, placing both of your glasses on the coffee table. “She’s smart, funny, has legs for days, cooks amazing food…”

“Stop” she laughs, and you shake your head no. Wanda is still laughing when you connect your lips with hers, a sigh leaving her mouth when you lift her and place her on your lap, her legs straddling you.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah” she nods, leaning her forehead against yours. “More than ok. As a matter of fact, I remember reading that kissing is good for your health”

“It’s so good” you say, your lips traveling to her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck. “I’d say do it as often as possible”

“Doctor’s orders?” Wanda jokes, her voice faltering as you come back to her mouth, your tongue swiping across her bottom lip.

“Doctor’s orders”

—

The plan is coming along. You have the tickets for the exhibit and the next thing on the list should be the dinner reservation. Your pager beeps the minute you call the restaurant. 

911.

“Shit” 

You sprint to the car, knowing no one would call you outside of work if it wasn’t serious. 

“What’s wrong?” you walk to the ER, looking around.

“What on Earth is this?” Tony Stark, neurosurgeon and professional asshole gets in your face the minute you get there.

“I don’t know, I’ve been off work since yesterday, Stark” you take the chart, reading all the information until you get to the signature. The writing got progressively worse, until it was just senseless lines.

“This person was clearly having a stroke, and the staff didn’t notice. I have to scrub in and see if I can save his life”

“And you’re wasting time arguing with me” you roll your eyes, pushing the chart to his chest and walking to the OR.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To scrub in. If you want to blame me, that’s fine. I’m staying by this patient’s side until he pulls through”

“If he pulls through” Stark says angrily and you ignore him. 

Before scrubbing in, you check your phone.

Wanda: Is everything ok? I saw you leaving in a hurry. 

“By all means, take your time” Stark says, glaring as he walks by you.

You spend the entire surgery in his OR, standing still and doing everything he asks. He’s a rude, pretentious cunt, but if anyone can work a miracle, it’s him, so you suck it up and take every snide comment with a blank stare.

After hours working, Tony sighs, nodding at his work. 

“Close him, Parker,” he asks his resident. You stand watching the young man’s work, until the surgeon asks you to come with him.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out the minute you step out. “This wasn’t your patient, nor your responsibility. And I made it seem like it was”

“It’s still not right. If I had been here, I would have noticed”

“I know. Your work is impeccable” he acknowledges and you nod. Even if he’s an ass, this is the hospital his father built, and he’s a genius with years ahead of you in experience.

“Will he be alright?”

“There’s a good chance he’ll pull through. Let’s be cautiously optimistic. I’ll let Parker explain everything to the family. Sorry for interrupting your days off”

“Not a problem” 

“It’s the first time you’ve taken PTO in 3 years. Fury’s gonna have my head for making you come” Tony says, laughing.

The patient is moved to the ICU, but you’re still not comfortable leaving, so you go back to the on-call room, sitting in a bed to gather your thoughts. Yelling in the hallway makes you stand up, watching as Parker tries to speak to a man and his wife. 

“You discharged him, said he was fine” the man yells, pointing at Peter’s face. 

“Sir, I can assure you, we’re doing our best to make sure your son…”

“We wanna see him now” the man takes Peter by his coat, almost lifting him off the ground. The young man stutters, not knowing how to deescalate the situation.

“Hey, that’s enough” you step in, not realizing the man is about to throw a punch until you make him drop Peter, his elbow connecting with your cheek.

“Crap, Doctor Y/L/N, are you ok?” Peter says, rushing to your side.

“Yeah, fine”

Fucking fantastic. 

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to wait in the foyer, or I’ll call security” Carol steps in, glaring at the man. She waits until he’s gone, muttering an apology your way. “You ok?”

“Mhm, great”

“I thought you had a few days off”

“Yeah, me too”

“Come on, let’s have a look at that punch” Carol says, dragging you to one of the exam rooms. You sigh, trying to keep your eye closed. “No stitches needed”

“Great” you mumble, pulling out your phone. There’s like five messages from Wanda but before you can answer, she calls you.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you ok? You had me worried”

“Yeah, there was a thing at the hospital and I… ouch! Carol, a little warning?” you hiss as the blonde pours some disinfectant on the bruised skin.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy” Wanda says, her demeanor changing. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone”

“Wait, Wanda!” you say but it’s too late, the call cut off. “God, could this day get any worse? I have to go”

“Want me to drive you there?” Carol says with a smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. That will make Wanda so happy”

“Whipped” Carol jokes and you try to glare, but it hurts your eye.

Wanda barely put the kids to bed, when she hears a knock on the door. She’s prepared to give you an attitude but then sees your swollen cheek.

“Oh, my God, what happened to you, are you ok?” the brunette says, immediately forgetting she’s mad at you.

“It’s a long story. But that doesn’t matter. Listen, I know how it seems, I tell you I’m busy and when you call me I’m with Carol”

“I know you work together. It’s fine” Wanda lies.

“No, it’s not, come on”

“Ok, just come in and explain everything while I get you some ice, ok?”

“Thanks” you mutter, sitting at the kitchen counter. You fidget with your hands, not looking up until Wanda comes closer, her eyes soft as she moves the hair out of your face.

“Cold” she warns, placing a compress against your skin. You sigh with relief, holding her hand close.

“I’m sorry. I was called in to fix something I didn’t break”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job, Y/N” she says in a soft voice. “Is everyone ok? Is that how you got hurt?”

“Everyone’s ok. The parents were just pissed and I tried to break the fight”

“Does it hurt?” Wanda pulls the compress and examines the skin. It’s a little bruised, but not too swollen.

“It will later” you sigh.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can kiss it better”

“Is that what Carol was doing earlier?” Wanda tilts her head, a dangerous look in her eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

“Oh, come on! Not fair!”

“I’m kidding” she says, finally kissing you softly. You close your eyes, relaxing for the first time in 12 hours. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, you were saving lives”

“What you feel is valid. Don’t apologize for it, ok? I’ll always listen to you, I promise” you kiss her hand, smiling when she blushes. “We’re still up for our date, right?”

“We can reschedule, you must be exhausted”

“Not a chance” you say, pulling her closer again. “I’ve been waiting too long for this”

“Well, alright. If you insist” she pecks your lips and you nod.

“I do”

“I have an… odd request” she says, avoiding your eyes.

“I won’t kink shame you, I promise”

“Can you be serious for just a second?” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. You make a motion to keep quiet, and let her speak. “Can you… pick me up around the block?”

“I can. But why am I doing it?”

“First of all, if the kids see you, they’ll want to tag along. And also… I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, I just want to protect them. It’s been the three of us since they were born and I’ve never even dated anyone, let alone someone they know” she takes a deep breath, hoping you won’t get upset.

“Billy and Tommy come first, always” you nod. “I agree to the new rule, or I can wear glasses and a fake mustache”

“Nope” she shakes her head, covering your mouth with her hand.

“A bald cap then” you mumble against her palm.

She figures the only way to make it stop is by kissing you and she leans forward, her lips against yours. You smile dreamily as she pulls apart.

“Now. Would you like some dinner?” Wanda offers, and you almost drop to your knees.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect, Wanda Maximoff”

The way she blushes and giggles makes up for all the shitty things that happened in the past hours.

—

“There’s food and snacks, a list of phone numbers on the fridge in case of an emergency”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff,” Morgan says, following the woman around the house. It’s her first time babysitting the twins, but Wanda has known the girl since she started giving her private art lessons and trusts her.

“Boys, I’m leaving” Wanda calls, the kids standing up from the table to hug their mom goodbye. “Be good to Morgan, ok?”

“Where are you going?” Tommy asks.

“A work thing” she lies, feeling terrible about hiding the truth from the twins. But still, she knows it’s for the best to keep this private.

She waves goodbye one last time and walks past the house, noticing your car is no longer in the driveway. Her heart beats fast at the expectation of an evening together.

“Hey, gorgeous” you greet, leaning against the passenger door. “You look absolutely stunning”

You admire how amazing she looks in a pair of jeans, a white tee and a long sleeve sweater.

“So do you” she kisses you, smiling as you open the door to the car.

“Thanks, the purple eye gives my look a nice touch” you say as you begin the drive.

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough” you say, hoping she likes the surprise. “First stop” you announce, opening the car door for Wanda and looking at the building in front of you. 

“Artechouse. Oh, I’ve heard about this” Wanda nods, intrigued.

“I did too, but never made the time to go. Come on” you lead her to the entrance, showing your tickets. “There’s a small bar if you wanna have a drink before we go in” 

“Let’s go in now” she says, looking everywhere. 

You think it’s a good sign that she’s so interested in the exhibit, so you lead her to the start, both of you gasping as you enter a room that is projecting videos of flowers from floor to ceiling. Wanda’s hand searches yours in the dark, and you smile shyly as she holds it, walking around the room.

The intimacy of the place allows you to come closer, sharing everything you see in a low voice and enjoying the show. 

“Check this out” you say, lifting your arm, the animation following your movements. Wanda lets out a laugh, doing the same.

Each room enchants Wanda even more, the next installation featuring plants that react to the touch with light and sound. Your favorite by far is the tree that reacts differently if you’re holding hands or hugging. As you walk up to it, Wanda is still holding your hand and you both look at the screen. Well, she’s looking at the projection and you’re looking at her, thinking how beautiful she is. 

Taking a step forward, your arms go around her waist and you smile, admiring how the images change.

“It’s beautiful” Wanda whispers, turning to you. “You’re not looking” 

“I have the best view right in front of me” you smile, happy when she kisses you softly.

Wanda takes her time examining everything and once she’s done, you walk to the exit. 

“That was amazing. I forgot how much I enjoy these things. Thank you, Y/N”

“Glad you liked it” 

“Best first date I’ve had,” she smiles.

“Oh, this is only the first part. You don’t really think I’d forget about the food, right?” 

“Where are we going?”

“Well, there’s a very fancy option but I don’t feel like going with this thing on my face” you point at the bruise, annoyed. “If you’re feeling adventurous we could try something different?” 

“You look perfectly fine, darling” she kisses your cheek. “But I’m up for an adventure, so lead the way” 

“Awesome” you hold her hand, walking down the street and away from the museum. This is your favorite part of town, close to the pier and the little shops that are open until late. 

You walk down the promenade, showing Wanda some of the places you love. There’s a small gallery, a cafe, and other shops. 

“We’re here” you announce, pointing excitedly at the kebab shop. “This is fine, right? We can still go to the fancy place if you like”

“Sorry this place isn’t fancy enough for you, Majesty” the owner pops out of nowhere, scaring you.

“Samir! That’s not what I meant. You know I love your food”

“Mhm” he glares, but then smiles at Wanda. “What can I get for you, angel?”

“Well, what’s good here?” Wanda wonders, not as familiar with the dishes. “Maybe a shawarma” 

“How about a kebab box, fries to share and a doner” you suggest, “And her shawarma, of course” 

“That’s a lot of food” she protests and you shrug your shoulders.

“I’m always eating leftovers before I leave for work so it’s fine, babe” 

“Oh, well” she wants to scold you about your eating habits, but the pet name makes her dizzy. 

You pay and lead them to a small table outside, unaware of Wanda’s flustered state. You hand over a soda and open your can, taking a sip.

“We can go to other art shows whenever you want, you know? Even if I don’t understand anything, I do enjoy watching you” you smile, laughing as Wanda’s cheeks go red at the comment.

“I did enjoy it, thank you. You come here often?”

“I do, I love the food here. Samir noticed I came late because of my shifts and he always saved me some food. Nice fella” you turn to make sure he’s not listening. “But I promise I’ll take you to dinner to that other place when I don’t look like a raccoon”

“You don’t have to” 

“I kinda want to see you in a dress, all fancy like that time you left for another date” you smile at the memory of how beautiful she looked.

Wanda’s heart bursts with the way you look at her, complete adoration in your eyes. She’s almost left speechless, but her phone saves her. 

“It’s my brother” she apologizes, taking the call. “Hi, Pietro. No, I’m not with them. Because, I’m out. Of course with a babysitter, stupid” she rolls her eyes, and then switches to a language that you don’t understand, but sounds like Russian. You look at her in awe, until Samir calls for you to get the food. By the time you’re back at the table, Wanda already hung up.

“Sorry about that” 

“No, don’t worry. I guess I never asked, but are you Russian?”

“Sokovian” she corrects. “We moved to the States when Pietro and I were ten” 

“Wow. I never… you don’t even have an accent” 

“It slips up from time to time, especially if I’m angry or… flustered” Wanda says, and you almost choke on the food, thinking of all the ways you could make it come out. 

“Oh, well” you clear your throat. “Is your brother ok?”

“Yeah, he wanted to ask the boys something about video games that I don’t understand. I’m sure you would” 

“I don’t know, my knowledge is limited to things that existed when I was a kid. How’s the food?”

“Amazing. Wow” Wanda says, pleased with the flavor of the meat and how it compliments the rice and dips.

“See? We’re good enough for a first date” Samir shouts from the kitchen.

“Stop listening to our conversation” you shout back and he grumbles. Wanda smiles, thinking of something she’s wanted to ask for a while now.

“Do you ever visit your family?” 

“No, not really” you shake your head. “I pretty much left for college and never returned. Except this one Christmas, where I was feeling kind of lonely and tired. I just wanted to be home, but everything was so different, my half siblings were just too much to handle for anyone… and I didn’t even know what to do, no one bought me a present because I was never around and they just thought I’d be gone like last year”

“I���m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“It’s fine” you shrug your shoulders. “I know it’s weird, but I like my life, you know? My colleagues are great, I’m doing what I love… and if I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s their loss” Wanda smiles, kissing you. You smile against her lips. “You can always spend the holidays with us, you know? I mean, it’s too soon to talk about it, I’m just saying”

“That would be nice” you interrupt her rambling. “Now, I have something very important to ask. Out of all the neighbors, which one is the most annoying and why?”

“Well, I’d say it’s… Agatha”

“Harkness! Yes! I knew you disliked her too” 

Wanda laughs and you keep the conversation going. By the time you’re done, you pay and leave a big tip for Samir, who gives you a hug as you leave the store.

“I’m so full” Wanda says, patting her stomach. 

“I know. Oh, you want ice cream?” you say, remembering the gelato store that is a few shops ahead. 

“You just said you were full!”

“It’s ice cream, come on” you take her hand, and pay for two cones. Wanda orders strawberry while you opt for chocolate.

“How is it?” you ask as you walk down the pier, enjoying the view. 

“Amazing, have some” she offers the cone, but you kiss her instead. “That’s not what I meant” Wanda laughs against your lips.

“Well, it tastes amazing to me” you say, leaning forward and chasing after her soft lips, the flavor lingering as you deepen the kiss. Wanda sighs against your mouth, pulling you closer until your hand goes down her waist. “Best ice cream I’ve ever had” 

“Yeah” Wanda nods, her eyes closed. You peck her lips one last time, and continue your walk, still talking about everything you can think of, enjoying each other’s company.

When she checks the time more than once you get the hint, ready to go home.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being annoying, we can stay longer” 

“It’s ok, I know you like to be home early. Come on, we can drink wine or I’ll let you go to bed”

You rest your hand on Wanda’s leg for the entire ride home, unaware that your touch is making the woman restless. When you’re close to your house, you stop exactly where you picked Wanda up.

“I can just park at home, right? The boys are probably asleep”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, flustered. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she moves forward, pulling you down for a rough kiss that takes your breath away. It’s a bit messy and desperate, and you ignore the strain of your seatbelt as Wanda pulls you closer to her, sighing against your mouth.

“You can’t park here!” an annoying person knocks on your window and you both break apart. “Oh, my! Wanda? Doctor Y/L/N?”

Damn it, it’s Agatha Harkness. Your nosy, annoying neighbor. Rolling down the window and smoothing your clothes, you smile at her.

“Hey, Miss Harkness. Sorry, I’ll move right now” 

“No, don’t worry” she gives you a sly smile. “Have a good night, you two love birds”

“Night, Agatha” Wanda says and you turn on the car, finally parking in your driveway.

“That was fun” you comment, opening the door for Wanda and crossing the street to walk her home.

“Yeah, just our luck” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. “Wanna come in? Or do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until Saturday. Come on” you let her lead you to her house, opening the door as quietly as possible. Wanda sees Morgan at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“How did everything go?”

“Great, they went to sleep an hour ago” 

“Morgan Stark?” you greet, closing the door behind you. 

“You two know each other?” Wanda says.

“Yeah, my parents work at the hospital with Doctor Y/L/N” Morgan says, waving at you. “Nice to see you” 

“Did you drive here? Or want me to take you home?” 

“It’s fine, I drove here” she says, and you hand over some money before Wanda can pay her. 

“Drive safely, ok? Don’t want your dad giving me crap on the next meeting”

“Will do. Good night, Miss Maximoff”

“Night, Morgan”

“You didn’t have to pay for that too” Wanda says, kissing you. “But thank you” 

“Anytime. How do you know Morgan?” you nod when she offers you a glass of wine and you walk to the living room with her.

“I’m giving her private art lessons. She’s really good. Had no idea her parents were doctors”

“Not just any doctors, baby” you say, taking a sip. “Tony’s father built the hospital we work in. And he’s done some amazing research in neurosurgery. Pepper is also one of the best plastic surgeons in the world” 

“Wow, Morgan is so sweet and down to Earth”

“She gets that from her mom, Tony can be an ass” you mutter and Wanda laughs. “So, did I secure a second date?”

“A third one as well. But only if I can pay for the next one”

“Nu-uh. I’m spoiling you, baby” you say, your hand going to her leg. You notice how Wanda’s cheeks turn red, and you’re not sure if it’s the nickname or the contact. “Come here”

You take her glass of wine, approaching her slowly and kissing her. It’s tender at first, but then your hands travel to her lower back, and Wanda moans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss, sighing when she pushes you on your back, climbing on top of you.

Wanda kisses down your neck, biting slightly. The sudden nip makes your hips jolt forward, and she has to hold back another moan.

“I don’t know how you do it” she says, shivering when your hands travel down and cup her ass through her jeans.

“Do what, baby?”

“Drive me crazy with just one touch”

“Let me take care of you” you ask, kissing her, your hands going all the way to the front of her pants.

“Mom?”

“Shit” she mutters, both of her hands covering your mouth. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m thirsty,” Tommy says.

“Alright, don’t come down, I’ll be right there, ok?” she says, hoping the boy hasn’t noticed anything strange. But he’s too sleepy so he just agrees and returns to his room. “I’m sorry”

She removes her hands from your mouth, helping you up.

“It’s fine, I enjoy the choking but just give me a heads up”

“Stop” she says, blushing. “I’ll be right back. Unless, you want to go? I’m sorry”

“I can stay” you nod, smiling at her disheveled state.

“Alright, I’ll be back” Wanda promises, pecking your lips.

You sit up, fixing your hair and taking a sip of the wine to calm down.

“Everything ok?” you say as Wanda comes down. She nods, smiling and sitting next to you.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think they’d be up. Maybe… we could wait a bit? When I’m not worried about the boys walking in on anything”

“Of course. Come here” you open your arms, and she settles, leaning her head against your shoulder. You kiss her temple. “Wanna watch some tv?”

“What about a sitcom? I love watching those”

“Like Friends?”

“Like Bewitched or… The Dick Van Dyke show” she says and you laugh, completely caught off guard by the suggestion.

“You’re fascinating, Wanda Maximoff” you say, handing over the remote, ready to watch whatever she wants.

[talaok]

Movie night

Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans

Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter

a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)

It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter, 

You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.

Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.

It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.

You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,

But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.

And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.

For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.

It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok

"hi" you smiled, opening the door

Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.

"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"

You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"

"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"

"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"

You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.

"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"

You swore you felt your heart stop beating.

What could he ever need to tell you?

"w-what?" 

Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.

"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."

"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle

He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.

"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"

His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.

What is it?

Did something happen

Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?

Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.

Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth

Did I just imagine that?

Am I dreaming or something?

What the actual fuck is going on?

That was supposed to be my lin-

"y/n are you there?"

He was talking to you, you realized.

"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock 

"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"

And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.

"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.

"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"

The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy

"you do?"

"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"

You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether, 

you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.

His lips were on yours, 

his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.

And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.

"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle

"I can't either"

And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.

His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,

And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.

And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.

His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.

As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.

"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.

"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"

And if you wanted him before, you now needed him

His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.

You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.

Your bra wasn't far behind.

"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush 

he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.

"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.

Your panties were completely drenched

He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.

His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention

"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs

"yes, sweetheart?"

"I-I've only ever done this once"

His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips

"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"

"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"

He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"

And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.

"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"

He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.

"Peter please take this off"

He didn't need to be told twice.

His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.

He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.

"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers 

"what do you want sweetheart?"

"you, please, all of you"

Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible

"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"

"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"

He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck

"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"

"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"

And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you

"told you I like hearing you beg"

You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.

"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned

He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,

"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you

"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"

A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,

"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"

He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.

"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth

"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.

"You're taking me so well sweetheart"

The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.

"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good" 

His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching

"such a good girl"

A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed

"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"

Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.

Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.

"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"

And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.

A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.

He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.

"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck

You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,

And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.

"I love you, Peter"

You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth

And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered

"I love you, y/n"