#I would like to shower BUT THE ROOM CALLS

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[drunkinyourbenz]

YOU DON'T REALLY NEED A BREAK

☆ SYNOPSIS: in which billie is stressed, so naturally she needs you more than ever. unbenkownst to her, she takes it too far. ☆ PART ONE ☆ RELATIONSHIP: dom!billie eilish x fem!reader ☆ WARNINGS: SMUT, use of safe word, angst, fluff, comfort, mean billie, reader is a little bratty, situationship/fwb, angry sex, crying, strap-on, edging, degradation, petnames, name calling (slut, whore, brat, etc.), choking, hair pulling, humiliation, dumbification, toxic dynamic (except less so because billie's realising things hehe), unedited. ☆ REQUESTED: yes, by a bunch of anons ☆ NOTE: y'all read my mind with these reqeusts i was already thinking of writing a part two abt exactly this and you all had the same idea!! sorry this took so long lmao exams are kicking my ass :/ this is very unedited sorry for any mistakes i read it through once and then posted it lmao read part one first for it to make more sense ☆ WORD COUNT: 3.5k words

billie hadn’t texted you in a little over a week, and you almost thought that she wasn’t ever going to again. the last time you’d seen her had ended like all of the other nights, she’d cleaned you up and then left you alone in the silent hotel room. usually, she’d text afterwards, just to make sure you were feeling okay, but there was nothing. the last text between the two of you was when you’d asked where she was when she was late that night. 

the two of you normally hooked up at least a few times a week, and you’d never actually gone a week without her since you started this four months ago.

you thought the worst: someone else had replaced you as her favourite. you’d always thought it would happen, but you thought you might have a few more times before it was over. but from the looks of it, you weren’t ever going to see her again. 

which was fine, obviously. you didn’t care—or that’s what you kept telling yourself. you had agreed to a no-commitment thing when you two started whatever this was, and she could do whatever she wanted. it stung a little bit that she wasn’t doing you, but ultimately, there was nothing you could do about it. 

so when you got home from a long day, thoroughly exhausted, your plan for the night was to hide in your bed and watch 2000s tv shows until you passed out. you showered, taking your time to wash your hair and feeling your tense and tired muscles relax under the hot stream of water. once out of the shower, you changed into some comfortable clothes, flopping down on your bed in relief. you were ready to finally just cuddle up under the blankets like you’d been wishing you could do all day.

about eleven minutes into the gilmore girls episode you were up to—rewatching for the hundredth time—your phone pinged, and you almost just ignored it, but you picked it up with a groan. 

your eyes widened when you saw it was from billie, the last number you expected to text. your heart almost skipped a beat.

billie: come over?

you paused for a moment, conflicted. you truly were exhausted, and it had been such a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep, you honestly weren’t in the mood for what you knew billie would want. but… it was billie. 

so, inevitably, you ended up at her door. you were still in the clothes you’d changed into the moment you got home, just some comfortable sweatpants and a top—billie wouldn’t care about what you wore, she wanted you to be comfortable. plus, you knew full well that you wouldn’t be wearing them for long. 

you knocked on the door, and it opened within mere seconds, almost as if billie had been waiting by the door for you to show up. from the look on her face, you wouldn’t be surprised. she looked stressed, angry, and desperate. you looked her up and down, your eyes settling on her face. she was wearing a pretty similar outfit to you, sweatpants that hung low on her hips, the “HIT ME HARD AND SOFT” waistband of her boxers peeking out, and a white tank top that you could see the slight hint of her nipples peeking through. her arms were bare and your eyes seemed to gravitate towards the toned muscles there, which never failed to make your brain short circuit. paired with the noticeable outline of her strap in her pants, it was almost too much for you to take. 

you noticed the way her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and her eyes were narrowed in a firm gaze, the frustration was clear on her face. “rough day?” 

she groaned, and when she spoke, her voice had a slight rasp to it, “you have no idea.” 

the two of you fell into silence, just staring at each other for a few long moments. it wasn’t a comfortable silence, it was one that hung in the air around you, a claustrophobic silence. there were words left unspoken between the two of you that poked their heads around the corner but never truly revealed itself, it left you wondering when it would snap, but it never did. the two of you stared at each other for what felt like lifetimes, you waiting for billie to do something, and billie simply savouring the feeling of having you in front of her again. 

finally, she spoke, her voice still holding that same raspiness—which alone could get you on your knees for her. “it’s pathetic that you’re here so fast, considering i ghosted you for a week. you’re just a desperate slut for me, aren’t you? not that you’d be good for anything else.”

the bluntness of her words sent a chill down your spine, this was exactly what you’d expected. why else would billie text you after a week of not talking, if not to use her favourite girl? 

billie continued talking before you could even get a word in, it was like she’d read your thoughts. she leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke, “you know i could just call over any of my girls and they’d be here in a heartbeat, and they’d be exactly the same. pathetic, desperate, and begging.”

you raised an eyebrow at her words. you knew what she was doing, trying to wind you up, get you to act out. you had honestly intended to just be her good girl tonight because you were so tired, but you knew she adored it when you acted up. so you spoke with the bratty tone you knew she loved.

“sure you could. but none of them are here now, are they? you called me.” 

the brattiness, especially when she was in a mood like this, made her eyes light up. your brattiness was her favourite thing, she loved it when you gave her an excuse to be harsher and meaner than she was on a normal day. so, when you talked back to her, she lets out a dark laugh. “don’t fuckin’ test me, mama.” 

you let a soft scoff fall past your lips, “or what?” 

“you know i’ll put you in your place, i’ve done it before.” and then you realised, this was what set you apart. this was why you were her favourite. you weren’t afraid to act up, so she didn’t have to be afraid of taking it too far. she could push you, because you pushed her. “maybe you should. you want to blow off steam, don’t you?”

at your words, her lips twitched upwards into a slight, barely noticeable smirk. you knew she would be taking them as a challenge, “you’re gonna have to drop the bratty attitude eventually, mamas.”

“maybe you should make me.”

that was exactly what she wanted—she wanted you to keep going, keep winding her up. she wanted you to give her a reason to pin you down and tear you apart; and you gave her that reason with that simple suggestion.

she took your wrist in her hand, her grip almost painful as she tugged you behind her to her bedroom. the air felt different than it normally did when you were here, everything felt so tense. her entire body language screamed irritated, dominant. but it wasn’t the normal kind of dominance she normally exuded. billie always had this kind of casual dominance that just hung around her, her presence was just effortlessly assertive. this is different, she had a look in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—she was always mean, but this was her normal level of mean times ten. 

she was clearly in a whole new headspace, not one you were familiar with. this wasn’t just dominant, wasn’t just mean, no, it was something else. she wasn’t just a little stressed, she didn’t just have a little bit of frustration she needed to take out on you, this was worse. it was an almost animalistic kind of energy, one that’s so raw, so intense, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk by the time she was finished with you.

she took one of the belts from her merch from her dresser, shoving you backwards onto the bed and tying your hands to the headboard. she tugged it slightly, making sure it was firm but not too tight. it sent a rush of excitement through you, and you knew she felt the same. 

“gonna use you, mamas,” you knew from those words that she was going to absolutely ruin you, and you could tell by the look in her eyes.

sure enough, no more than five minutes later, she had her strap deep inside of you and was pounding into you at a bruising pace. the strap was bigger than the one she usually used, and it made you ache with a constant stinging pain. she hadn’t given you any time to adjust, and had started as she meant to go on. you were naked and on her bed, with her on top of you, fucking into you at a brutal pace. your hands were still tied up with her belt and the ache it brought only amplified the pleasure. one of her hands had your hair in a firm grasp, solely to make you feel the sting of pain it brought. she wanted to bring you to tears. her other hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it before letting her hand fall down on your ass in a harsh slap. 

the intense pleasure of her cock inside you and her finger circling your clit was a perfect contrast to the pain her hands brought you, and a trail of moans fell from your lips. “b-billie-” 

a mean, almost cruel laugh left her lips, “god, you’re such a slut.” another slap landed on your ass, “it’s pathetic, really. i mean, i can ghost you for as long as i want,” another slap. “and you’re still at my door in five minutes as soon as i ask.” slap, “pathetic fuckin’ whore.” 

you whined, which simply made her laugh. in her own sadistic way, she was enjoying this. 

this continued for what felt like hours—maybe it was, you had no idea. every time you got slightly close to your orgasm, she’d pull out, tugging you away from the edge. by now, you had tears rolling down your cheeks, and the fine line between pleasure and pain was slowly but surely being crossed. 

“fuckin’ take it,” she breathed. “god, you look so dumb around my cock. all you’re good for, hm? spreading your legs and taking it like the slut you are?”

you whimpered, and she simply slapped your ass again. 

this continued for much longer, and she wasn’t even mad at you for being bratty, not in the slightest. she just needed an outlet for her bad mood, and that was what you were. merely a way for her to release her frustrations. 

you let out a choked sob, your body trembling, “billie, please, i can’t—” 

you knew she wasn’t doing this because she had anything against you, there had been something deeply wrong with her day. she had never been this downright cruel before, and you knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t act like this without reason. but it was too much, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. she hadn’t asked for your colour even once tonight, and that thought alone was putting you on edge. sure, her being rough turned you on, but right now it was scaring you just as much. this was darker than you’d experienced in all four months of your friends with benefits situation with her, and you weren’t sure if you liked it. 

you felt the strap hit your most sensitive spot, and you let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a sob. “billie–” 

“like being used by me, yeah? taking everything i give you like a slut?”

you weren’t sure when you realised that you actually weren’t enjoying it anymore, but it was obvious all of a sudden. it hurt, and not in a good way. you were exhausted from both your day and the sheer amount of time she’d been edging you for. the way your arms had been tied to the bed for so long was making them ache painfully, and at some point down the line, your tears of pleasure had turned into tears of pain. 

you normally had the safety net of knowing that she was paying attention to your signals, knowing that she didn’t want to hurt you. but it didn’t even feel like she was aware of what she was doing, she was so caught up in herself and drowning out her own frustrations. you hated that lack of awareness, it was like she wouldn’t even notice if she actually hurt you. 

she looked like she was about to speak again, so before she could get out another degrading comment, you gasped out, “red, billie–”

whatever half formed sentence billie had been about to say died on her tongue, your gasped words making her freeze inside of you. her mind suddenly went silent, her frustrated thoughts about her day coming to a halt as she looked down at you with wide, almost scared eyes. you’d never actually used your safeword—obviously it was something that the two of you had communicated, but billie had never expected to actually go too far, to push you to that. she was meant to check in on your colours, and she felt an intense pang of guilt when she realised that she hadn’t done that. 

as she looked at you, noticing the tears and the exhausted expression, as well as the way your wrists were visibly sore from being tied for so long, she felt a sense of dread. she was overcome with shame and she didn’t know what to do about it. her breath caught in her throat as she processed what was going on.

“shit, i’m so sorry.” after a moment, she shook herself out of her paralysed shock, she would’ve pulled out immediately, but she was aware that that would just hurt you even more. so she leaned over, quickly untying the belt around your wrists and letting it fall to the ground beside the bed. she massaged your wrists gently for a moment, trying to soothe you. 

her hands moved over your tense muscles, trying to ease some of the soreness. she brushed some of your hair out of your eyes, her touch soft and cautious. “i-i’m so sorry, baby. i never wanted to push you that far.”

you knew that. you knew that she would never actually intend to hurt you, you knew that she wasn’t herself. you didn’t need her to over explain herself, you just needed her to hold you. the hand that had been pushing your hair out of your eyes moved to stroke your cheek, and you could see the intense guilt in her eyes. 

“i’m gonna pull out now, okay?” her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, eyes fixed on your face. 

you simply nodded, hissing slightly in pain as she gently pulled the strap out of you. billie felt her stomach twist at your obvious pain, knowing that she had done that. “i know, i’m so sorry.”

once she was out of you, she climbed off you and gently shifted you so you were sitting further up the bed, propped up on the pillows slightly. her mind was clearly racing with what she could do to help, “do you need anything? water, food, whatever?”

you shook your head softly. if your brain hadn’t been so exhausted, you probably would have thought more rationally about this. but you didn’t, and you didn’t once consider the limited affection in your dynamic. “can you just hold me?” 

billie didn’t hesitate, she just nodded instantly. “yeah, of course i can.” she joined you further up the bed, pulling you into her arms. she held you against her chest gently, her fingers soothingly running through your hair while her hand rubbed your back softly. 

you could hear her heartbeat, it was fast and a clear reminder of how stressed she was. you spoke softly, “it’s okay, seriously.”

but it wasn’t okay, not to billie. she had hurt you, she had pushed you too far, even when you were already clearly tired. she should’ve known better, and the guilt was weighing down from her and eating her up from the inside. not to mention she was terrified that this might be your last straw, that you might never want to see her again, that she might have broken your trust. wondering why she cared so much about her casual fling’s feelings was something that would have left her perplexed on any other day, but it was not currently at the forefront of her mind. “but–”

“it’s okay.” you said firmly, “i wouldn’t be asking you to hold me if i was uncomfortable around you.” 

those words seemed to ease billie’s nerves slightly, and she tightened her arms around you, holding you close. after a few minutes of this, she gently pulled you to sit in your lap, and you shifted so that your head was buried in the crook of her neck. you could feel her breathing on your skin, and you could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. it was incredibly grounding, the feeling of just being close to her. ever so slowly, you felt your breathing calm and your heart rate slow down. 

at least an hour passed as you were just laying there in her arms, your breathing syncing with hers as her fingers ran through your hair. it was a foreign thing, for the two of you to be this close without sex, but it felt so right. it was like you were made to be in her arms, despite the situation that had brought you here. you could sense her guilt, and if you’d been a bit more aware of what was going on, you probably would’ve realised that there was something more behind that guilt—something deeper than just feeling bad for pushing you. but you were unaware, it wasn’t really what took place at the front of your mind. 

the room was filled with only the sound of both of you breathing, and your mind was taken over by the calming feeling of her playing with your hair. after a while, she broke the silence. “d’you wanna borrow something to wear?” 

you couldn’t deny that you liked the feeling of this skin to skin contact, but you also knew that it was a good idea. so you nodded quietly, and she delicately lifted you off her lap and set you down on the bed. she walked over and grabbed you an oversized t-shirt to wear, and she walked into the ensuite to grab a damp cloth. she came back over and gently wiped your thighs with the cloth, at this point you didn’t flinch too much because it had been so long. she held out the t-shirt, which you recognised as one she had worn at some point.

“arms up, darling.” that was a new pet name, but you didn’t comment. instead, you just lifted your arms and allowed her to slip the top over your head. it smelt like her, which somehow just added to the comfort. 

soon enough, she was back on the bed and you were back in her arms. she was laying down and you were laying with her, partly on top of her and partly just cuddled up to her side. this hadn’t happened before between the two of you, but you certainly weren’t complaining. her bed was comfortable, and her arms around you felt like a cocoon you never wanted to grow out of. 

gradually, your breathing started to slow as the exhaustion caught up on you, both from the recent events and your already tiring day. your head slumped onto her shoulder as a yawn fell from your lips, to which billie smiled softly. 

“do you want to stay the night?” 

that was not something you’d ever expected billie to say, but you hummed softly against her shoulder. “if that’s okay, yeah.”

you could’ve sworn you heard a sigh of relief from billie, “of course it’s okay, please stay. i want you to stay.” 

and so you did. you stayed that night, wrapped up in billie’s arms. it was so new, but it felt so right. that night had been an irreversible shift in your relationship, for both obvious reasons and more hidden ones. you knew that the two of you would have to talk about some stuff in the morning, and you knew you’d have to set some more boundaries. but you also felt closer to her than you ever had, somehow. 

little did you know, that night was just as  meaningful for billie as it was for you. she had had a revelation, one that she would likely keep to herself for a while, although there was no doubt you would find out eventually. 

but there was no doubt that billie wanted you to stay, longer than she’d ever thought.

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

Despite being tired, William’s full attention was on Sebastian. He didn’t mind staying up late to talk to him, if that was what Sebastian needed. His poor darling complained about pain and discomfort, and William was reassuring him, and cheering him up, and promising him all sorts of things to lift his mood once he’s back home. “I will bake you an apple pie, darling. And we will watch movies together every night. Don’t worry, hospital stay is only for a moment. Soon you will be back home here with me.” William smiled at the phone.

They stayed on facetime for quite a long time, until William started actively yawning. Then even clueless Sebastian had to notice that William was just exhausted by now. “Mm… you know, I should probably get home…” William hummed eventually. “I need a shower, and tomorrow morning it’s work again…” he yawned once more.

So, William then made another round over Sebastian’s cottage, showing each of the six cats to the phone’s camera, so Sebastian could say his goodnights. They stayed on the phone while William walked home to his house, and then Sebastian got to also greet Dexter via facetime as well. But eventually, whether they wanted it or not, they had to hang up. William could hear the nurse in the background, in Sebastian’s hospital room, telling him that she will put him on light sedatives for the night, because he really needs some sleep. And Sebastian could see how sleepy William’s eyes looked by now, he was barely keeping them open. 

So after a few more minutes of ‘I love yous’ and ‘goodnights’ they finally ended the call. William’s house got so quiet all of a sudden. He missed Sebastian terribly already. Before showering, William decided to go to his church for a moment still. 

The inside of the church was chilly. William lit up two big candles on the altar, and knelt down for a prayer. He begged God for good health for Sebastian, and for forgiveness for his sins. He did that a lot, lately, praying and asking God to forgive him for whatever it was that caused such punishment. As if it was his fault.

“Please God…” William whispered under his breath. “Surely you see inside my heart, and you know how happy Sebastian makes me. He is good for me, and I know that you put him in my life for a reason. I know I didn’t handle it the best, I broke my vows, I’m lying to the people of this town… but I will make it right. I promise. And Sebastian doesn’t deserve to be punished for my cowardly mistakes…”

The prayer lifted some guilt from William’s heart at least. He hoped that God would listen. 

He dragged himself into the shower, hot water washing away the exhaustion slightly, and soreness from his muscles that was caused by anxious tension all day long. William crawled into bed heavily, Dexter curling right at his side. He put the phone next to him on the pillow, just in case Sebastian needed him. He didn’t even notice when his eyelids fell heavily, and he dozed off, sleeping like a rock. 

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[noxiwrites]

Looking out for you

Summary; Rafe has the best intentions, despite not acting on them in the best way.

Warnings; mentions of sa, use of drugs (weed), angst, arguments, stalking, obsession, Rafe being nice, soft sweet sex with Rafe, fem oral, multiple orgasms.

You’re sat on your bed scrolling through Instagram when your door crashes open, a blinding mess of dirty blonde hair flying into your room.

You know immediately that it’s your brother, as he’s the only one who would fly into your room with no invitation- and your parents were away in Rome for the summer, leaving you and Topper to fend for yourselves.

Topper takes a seat on the edge of your bed, chest heaving like he’s just ran a marathon, cheeks flushed.

You perk an eyebrow, locking your phone and looking over at him. “What do you want Top?”

He raises a finger at you, other hand clasping his chest.

“Cmon Topper, I don’t have all day.”

He gulps, nodding his head before trying to talk.

“So I was at a party with Rafe and I stepped away for one second to answer Rhi’s phone call and when I came back he was fighting with JJ Maybank,” he pauses, swallowing. You sigh, not sure what this has to do with you, until he continues.

“I only overheard the end of the conversation but to sum it up they made a bet, about you. Who could sleep with you first- and I know that’s fucked but you’re my sister and I had to let you know so now you-”

“Wait, what? Fucking what?” You ask, incredulous. He nods his head, sharing the same confused face you’re sure you have.

“I don’t have anymore details, but now you know if either of them try anything.” He looks at you, finally able to breathe properly. “Don’t let them try anything, okay? Rafe is my best friend but he’s not a good guy.”

Your mind is racing with thoughts- JJ Maybank, a name that sounded familiar, but left a small distaste on your tongue. You couldn’t put on where you’d heard it from. And Rafe- Rafe fucking Cameron, your brothers best friend who you were absolutely sure hated you.

“Topper, what the fuck?” Is all you manage, and he nods his head again. “I know, I know it’s fucked and that fucking pogue better stay away otherwise I’ll beat his ass.”

You immediately connect the dots.

“What, as in thee pogue JJ? Sarah Cameron’s pogue friend?”

“Yep.”

When you were friends with Sarah, before she went off to be with those pogues, she had introduced you to them and you could remember one of them acting really weird around you. The more you thought, the more his name sounded familiar. It was the creepy one.

Your mind is racing and you groan, head falling back onto your head board. Men.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know Top. You can leave now.” He looks shocked for a second, before nodding, standing, and leaving your room, shutting the door behind him.

-

The next morning when you wake, and check your phone, you see a text message from your friend, Maddison. She’s invited you to a little shopping spree on the boardwalk, and who are you to say no?

You could do with some shopping.

It’s when you’re getting out of the shower and wrapping your towel around your body that you hear something clink in your room. You know your brother is out on his boat, as he is every Saturday- so who the fuck is in your room?

You grab your hairbrush off your sink, hoping it will suffice enough as a weapon and slowly open your bathroom door.

The person is stood at the other side of your room, back facing away from you as they look out the window.

It doesn’t take you even two seconds to throw the brush at them, it landing square in their back with a large thump, before falling to the floor.

“Get the fuck out! I’ve got more where that came from!” You tell, only hearing a chuckle in response. You recognise it from somewhere, but don’t put the voice to the face until they turn around.

Rafe Cameron.

“No because what the fuck are you doing in my room you freak?” You shout, gripping the edge of your towel tighter. He doesn’t move, almost drinking you in while in the towel and you suddenly feel more naked than ever.

You remember what your brother told you last night.

“Hey doll, lovely way to ask me how I am,” he chuckles again, fingers brushing against your bed as he looks up at you.

“No, I will not ask you how you are when you’re in my room without me allowing you to be,” you scoff. “So get the fuck out. Topper is on his boat if you need him.”

He smirks at you, moving around the edge of your bed.

“I’m not here for him, sweetheart. I’m here for you.” He moves closer to you and you take a few steps back into your bathroom.

“Look, I know about your stupid little bet with that creepy pogue. I want nothing to do with either of you so leave.” You tell him, voice faltering as he steps close enough to touch you.

Yes, Rafe Cameron was incredibly attractive. Beyond attractive. But that did not change the fact that you thought he was an absolute psychopath, him being in your room all the proof you needed.

“I’m not going anywhere until I explain to you. I knew Topper would run his mouth without telling you what actually happened.”

What actually happened? What could he possibly mean by that? When he made a bet about sleeping with you.

“How about you get dressed so I’m not so distracted and then I can tell you, yeah?”

You can’t lie to yourself, you’re intrigued. There’s a little tingle between your legs by the way he says he’s distracted by you but it disappears the second you remind yourself about the bet. You slowly nod your head and disappear behind the bathroom door, grabbing your dressing gown to cover yourself with.

Rafe is sat on your bed, mindlessly zoned out as he waits for you. You stand at the edge of it, arms crossed over your chest. “Explain.”

He smirks up at you, still eying you up despite the more covered choice of clothing.

“JJ Maybank has a very unhealthy obsession with you. To the point where I’m concerned for you. He’s a weirdo. He said he’s gonna be fucking you soon and you’ve been flirting with him.” You’re lost for words.

“I’ve never even spoken to him.” You say, voice small. You knew he was creepy but you didn’t think it went this far.

Rafe nods his head. “I told him to shut the fuck up because you’d never date anyone like him and that when he made this bet, and I agreed. I figured I’d come speak to you and get you to pretend we’ve had sex so he leaves you alone but topper got here first and ran his mouth.”

“We’ll, thank you Rafe but I can manage myself.” You say, holding your chin high.

He chuckles, again. “I don’t doubt that princess. He’s unhinged, that’s your issue.”

Your phone pings and you look down at it, to see that Madison has text you saying she’ll be setting off for you in five minutes.

You sigh. “Look, I’ve got plans. Can you just go? I really can’t be bothered with whatever you’re spewing and I’m not stupid. I won’t sleep with either of you.” He nods his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stands from your bed.

He towers way over you, one of his hands coming up to grip your chin. “You need to be careful, doll.” You immediately slap him away.

“Get the fuck out of my house. The only time you’re welcome here is if you’re with Topper.” His jaw is clenched again and he nods, pushing his hands into his pockets and walking out without saying another word.

Fucking hell. You grown out loud, hand coming up to run over your face. Fucking men.

-

“He said what?” Madi exclaims, almost knocking over her cocktail in the process of disbelief. You nod your head, taking a sip from your own as you lean closer to hear her in the crowded bar.

“It’s insane, isn’t it? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it myself,” you sigh, eyes searching the bar. It’s crowded, Friday night drinkers out in full force. You think you see a flash of messy blonde darting through the flocks of people, but the thought leaves your mind before it can even form.

“I mean, if Rafe Cameron were wanting to fuck me I wouldn’t say no,” madi giggles and you roll your eyes at her, wooing over someone who just isn’t that great.

“It’s not just that though Mad, it’s like he has some perverted older brother watch on me, as if he feels the need to fight my battles for me- and he’s yucky anyway. He’s slept with half the cut,”

Madi giggles again, twirling her straw in her drink. “Speaking of,” she blushes cherry and you follow her eyes to see Rafe stood at the bar, mouth moving but eyes locked on you. Your brother stands next to him, completely obvious to where Rafe’s attention actually is. He notices you looking right back at him and waves, cocky smirk on his features. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

Of course he’s here. You’d never admit that Rafe was hot, or that sometimes you had to close your thighs when he did that stupid smirk. No, never. Not even to madi.

“He’s so totally into you.” She gushes, grabbing your hand from across the table. You loved Madison, but sometimes she just didn’t get it. Rafe had been your brothers best friend since you were five, and you knew better than anyone that he was bad news. The more that you thought about it, the more it wound you up.

“Well I’m not into him, or JJ Maybank for the matter. They can both go to hell,” you mutter, seeing that same flash of blonde out of the corner of your eye. You clear your throat, excusing yourself to the toilet.

The bar that you’re in is notorious for having their toilets as far away as possible. It’s like they don’t want you to go. As you’re pushing open the ladies toilet door, something grips your bicep and you yelp, feeling yourself being pulled back.

“Rafe Cameron, really?” You immediately recognise JJ’s voice. It’s gravelly, a hint of anger laced in. “I thought we had something special,” he continues, fingernails gripping your bicep so tight you can feel the bruise already.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, let me go,” you demand. If there was one thing your dad taught you to do well, it was to defend yourself.

He scoffs, other hand reaching up to grip your chin. You wriggle, trying to escape his grip, to no avail.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you want me. Why sleep with him when he’s a psycho?” JJ asks, tightening his grip on your chin so you’re no choice but to look at him. You had to give him that, Rafe was a psycho. But not like this.

“You look like you’ve got seven std’s, JJ. I can assure you I do not want anything to do with you,” you snap back, ripping your arm out of his grip when he softens, obviously not expecting you to say that. You finally step back and begin a fast pace down the corridor- not making it very far before he’s grabbing you again.

“You’re so fucking spoilt- but goddamn, it’s hot. I could fuck you right here,” he’s pressing all up against you from behind, whispering in your ear. You grit your teeth and reel forward, hands clawing at his around your arm.

“I’d let go if I were you,” you grit and JJ laughs.

“You gonna slick Rafe on me? I don’t see him here. You’re mine,” he hums, hand sliding down your dress.

“If that had moves an inch you’re more than a dead man.” You hear, looking up to see Rafe Cameron charging towards the two of you. You’re unsure if you’re thankful or not.

“Here he comes, your little guard dog,” JJ huffs in your ear, hand sliding lower. You gather every ounce of strength in you and reel backwards, back of your head smashing into the front of his. JJ cries out, letting go of you and grasping his now bleeding nose.

Rafe looks surprised almost as he pulls you into his side, arm wrapping around your shoulders. This feels different, safer. You’re glad he’s here.

“You broke my nose you bitch,” JJ yells at you, crazy eyes meeting your own. Rafe laughs, almost pitiful at the scene.

“Be lucky I didn’t get my hands on you, Maybank. Now fuck off, before I change my mind.” JJ eyes you both, contemplating before eventually stepping past you.

“This isn’t over,” he comments, before disappearing round the corner. You finally breathe, shoulders wracking and shaking with what you realise are cries. This could have been a lot worse.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Rafe soothes you, rubbing circles into your back. He pretends not to notice how your dress is almost at your hips as he pulls it down for you.

“I’m just looking out for you, I promise,” he whispers. “You’ve seen what he’s like now. You know I’m just protecting you,”

You nod. You couldn’t imagine what would have happened had he not appeared when he had. You hated to admit it, but you were thankful for him being here afterall.

“Let’s get you home shall we? I’ll get topper to take Madison home.” All you can do is nod, gripping Rafe’s side for dear life as he leads you out of the bar.

-

“Here, we’re home,” rafe squeezes your thigh, where his hand has been the entire drive back to your house. You’re thankful he’s allowed you to sit in silence, you don’t think you’d have the words to talk.

Rafe jumps out of his truck, rushing round to your side to open the passenger door.

“I’m okay, Rafe, honestly. Thank you,” you pull yourself out of the seat, hand searching through your bag for your keys. Rafe follows slightly behind you, waiting for you to unlock the door before standing on the step.

You hesitate in the doorway. You could really do with not being alone right now. You’re not scared, or necessarily wound up over what’s just happened, but you’d appreciate the company. Whether it be Rafe Cameron or not.

“Do you wanna stay?” You rush out, turning to face him. He’s leaning against the doorframe in what you now notice as a blue knit sweater and some black pants, all of which fit him perfectly.

“Don’t have to ask me twice doll.” He grins, hand reaching out to squeeze your hip. It’s a nice feeling, and the blush on your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he uses the grip on your hip to slide himself past you into the house.

You shut the door, locking it while thinking to yourself. You’re not sure if you’ll regret this or not, but that’s a problem for later.

“I’m gonna go get a bath I think, but you can make yourself at home in my room while I do,” you tell him, waking up the stairs. Rafe’s quick on your heels, constantly keeping close to you. You open your door to your room, flicking your lamp on that illuminates the room in a soft pink hue.

Rafe immediately kicks his shoes off and plops ontop of your sheets, grabbing the remote for your tv like he’s been here millions of times before. It feels comfortable, not a single ounce of awkwardness between the two of you. You kick your heels off and walk around to the other side of the bed, opening the bedside drawer. You reach in, taking a grinder and little tube of weed out.

Rafe whistles. “Who would’ve thought?” You raise an eyebrow, dropping some of the nuggets into your grinder and reaching into the draw for some papers.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” rafe grins at you as you giggle, rolling the weed into the paper and using your tongue to stick it down. You think Rafe is watching you in awe, but you’re not sure.

You finish off the joint, putting all the supplies back into the drawer and reaching for your lighter before shutting the drawer.

“Do you want some?” You ask, standing up and walking to your balcony door. Rafe nods and follows, taking a seat on the chair next to you. You spark the joint and take a long puff, sinking down into the chair.

You twirl the joint inbetween your fingers before offering it to Rafe, who takes it between his lips and takes a puff.

“What happened to the bath?” He asks, taking another puff before passing it back to you. You shrug.

“I remembered I had weed and that’s better.”

“Can’t argue,” Rafe responds, watching as your lips wrap around the joint. You can immediately feel it, all thanks to your dealer getting the best stuff.

“That was crazy,” you suddenly say, thinking out loud. Rafe agrees as you pass him the joint again, taking another puff. “Like? You said he was crazy but I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you for being there.” You ramble, grabbing the joint from him and taking another puff.

“He genuinely thought we were together you know,” you tell Rafe, passing him the joint again. It’s almost already gone.

“I told him that we were,” rafe says, handing you it back. “You can finish it sweetheart,”

“You told him we were together? I thought-” you stop mid sentence, unable to form any thoughts.

“I told him that so he’d back off. Obviously didn’t work, he’s lucky I wasn’t there sooner.” You can hear the anger in his voice. You take a final puff of the joint, dabbing it out on the table before flicking the end somewhere off the balcony.

You narrow your eyes, turning to Rafe. “Why do you care so much?” He turns to you, lax as anything as he speaks.

“Because I do, always have. I wish you’d believe me when I say so because I’m not lying. I care about you a lot.”

Your mind is running a thousand miles, unable to stop. “But you’re an arsehole,”

Rafe grins. “Ouch, that hurt, princess.” You clench your thighs together. He certainly has a way with words.

“You are though- you’ve never been nice to me,” you pout, resting your chin on your hand.

“Because I was scared.” He sighs, looking out at the night sky.

“Scared of what?” You ask, oblivious. If you weren’t high, it would’ve hit you like a ton of bricks by now.

Rafe laughs. “Scared of my feelings for you.” Oh. OH.

It’s like the brakes have finally begun to work. The car you’ve been driving skids to a halt, and it all finally makes sense. Rafe likes you.

Rafe Cameron likes you.

“I just can’t control myself around you, princess. I kept my distance in the beginning because I wasn’t a good person but I’ve changed. I can manage to be near you now without wanting to bend you over something for my own selfish reasons.” Your mouth is agape. Rafe finally looks at you.

“JJ Maybank claiming to have fucked the girl I’m so passionate about pissed me off. I wanted to rip his head off his shoulders. I thought telling him we’d fucked would be enough to keep him away.” There’s a pool of your arousal building in your panties, hearing him talk about you like this. If he’d have taken one look into the thoughts you’d had of him this would’ve been a different story a long time ago.

“I don’t want to fuck you for my own sake. I’ve been a selfish man in the past, but I do care about you. I wish you’d let me show you.” There’s a note in his tome that makes you realise he’s sincere.

You eventually find your voice. “Show me.”

Rafe’s eyes meet your own. “What?“

“Show me Rafe. I mean it.”

He’s leaning over the table in less than a second, grasping your head between his hands and capturing your mouth in a kiss. One of his thumbs swiped over your cheek and you let out a whimper, Rafe pulling the both of you up to stumble together on the balcony.

His lips leave yours and wander down your neck, hands wrapping round you and lifting you onto the table. You gasp, hands gripping his shoulders as he kisses down your neck.

“You’re on my mind all the time,” rafe whispers through kisses, working his way back up to your lips. He pulls you into a kiss again, pushing himself between your open legs. You feel his bulge press against your now weeping heat and you moan into his mouth, a sound he swallows right up. You’re slowly grinding against him, hands searching all over his back and his hand push your dress up over the curve of your thighs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes drinking in every part of you. You’re thankful you decided to put your pink panties on today, as he seems specially transfixed on them and one of his fingers lingers at the edge.

“May I?” He asks, eyes searching yours. You nod, but that’s not enough for Rafe. He grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Words, princess, cmon.” You about cream just from his words.

“Please touch me Rafe,” you whimper, finding your voice. Rafe grins, hand lingering at the edge of your panties finally pulling them to the side to look at your cunt. His fingers toy with the edge of your panties, before slowly pushing through your folds with intent.

It’s so dirty, on your balcony where anyone could hear. “All wet, just for me huh? Seems like you wanted this too yeah?” He tells you, holding your chin down so you can watch his ministrations on you. It’s down right wrong, how hot this feels right now. You can feel yourself dripping onto his fingers as he pushes a solo digit into your hole, groaning as he does.

You reach forward to palm him through his pants but he stops you. “Ah, this is about you. I don’t give a shit about myself right now.” He slips another finger in, setting a steady pace as his lips find yours.

You find yourself grinding on his fingers, listening to the small bouts of praise Rafe gives you and the way his fingers set a faster pace.

“It feels so fucking good,” you moan, writhing ontop of the table. Rafe moves his thumb to circle your clit and it’s over for you, crying out as you spill onto his hand and relax onto his shoulder for support.

“Cmon doll, I wanna taste,” Rafe tells you, lifting you from the table and taking you inside. There’s some shitty reality tv playing in the background but you don’t care for it much as Rafe lowers you onto your bed, pushing your dress further up and pulling your panties down, throwing them somewhere in the room.

He wastes no time, lowering himself down to your still sopping cunt and diving straight in. You feel him everywhere all at once, hands darting down to his head in an effort to grip something.

You feel one of his long fingers prodding at your hole again and you welcome it with a whimper, nails scratching his head.

“You’re so fucking sweet, could stay here for hours,” you clench around his fingers and Rafe smirks.

“You like when I talk baby? Good girl, so wet for me.” He coos, lips attatching to your clit once more. You cry out, squirming as he gives you everything like he’s known your body for years. His free hand reaches up and pulls down your dress, grasping your nipple.

“Rafe, I’m so close,” you whine, thighs locking around his head. He slurps, pushing another finger into your cunt.

“Give it to me sweet girl, cmon. Make a mess for me.” He demands, curling his fingers inside you and it’s over again, your high crashing like a wave over you and Rafe takes everything you’re giving him.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he praises you as he comes up, nose, mouth and chin covered in your slick. You’re aware that the weed is heightening your senses, but you had no doubt that Rafe knew what he was doing.

“You think you can give me more?” He asks, fingers still toying with your cunt. You nod, absentmindedly- fucked from just the first two.

“Ah, cmon, use your words doll,” he’s hovering above you, eyes searching yours.

“Please Rafe, please fuck me.” He grins, hand leaving you as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

“Take your dress off for me sweetheart,” he tells you and you do as you’re told, revealing your pink lacy bra. “That too,” he points to it and you reach behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing it somewhere in the room.

When Rafe frees himself from his boxers, you’re shocked. He’s large. Massive even.

“Lay back for me, just like that. Good girl.” He praises you, hands all over your body Ashe captures your mouth in another kiss. You feel his tip push into your hole and you gasp, legs trying to close.

“Cmon sweetheart, let me take care of you yeah? Make you feel good.” Rafe grips the base of his cock as you open your legs, allowing him to slide in. You gasp, never having felt this full before. Rafe chuckles like he knows, and gives you a second before he begins a slow pace.

It’s so much. You can’t keep quiet, especially when Rafe puts his thumb on your clit again and begins whispering into your ear.

“So fucking tight, so good for me aren’t you,” you moan, whimpering yes back as he continues to fuck you starry.

“M’not gonna last long,” you cry, gripping his bicep. He nods, drawing tighter circles on your clit. It makes you mewl out, nails scraping down his back. Rafe groans, punctuating his thrust as you do.

“You’re all mine now, I’m gonna make sure you’re always looked after. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, cum for me.” He demands, and his words bring you right there. His next thrust is angled just right and you whine out, pussy clenching around his dick in a way that makes Rafe see stars.

It’s like you were made for him.

“Where do you want me to cum sweetheart?” He asks, and through heavy breaths, you tell him.

“Inside. Birth control.” That makes Rafe’s hips stutter, his release painting your walls as he finally stops, keeping his dick inside you. You’re both heaving, and Rafe can feel his cum and your own seeping out of you. He reaches over and grabs your chin, pulling you for a kiss.

“Meant it. You’re mine. Gonna take such good care of you.”

-

More one shots of this ?

[loganhowlettshousewife]

request for a logan x reader where logan comforts the reader after they come home from a mission all bloodied up? i see a lot of reader comforting logan fics but im curious to see how itd be the other way round :)

me? responding to a request like three weeks later? it's more likely than you think. also sorry it's so short. originally it turned into smut but i didn't know if you'd want that given the request was for hurt/comfort. (if you guys want i can publish the alternate smut version of this fic too).

solace

summary: you come home from a mission gone wrong and logan helps you through it.

warnings: death (offscreen), blood, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, reader has hair, pet names (logan canonically calls his love interests "darlin'" and this is me pushing that agenda), english is not my first language so please do not be rude

word count: 1004

you’re splattered in blood and grime, grey ash streaking your skin from the fire created by a little boy lashing out at the world. he had set his own house on fire, his parents dying in the most brutal of ways, burned alive.

“oh princess, c’mere,” logan pulls you into his arms. you’re in too much shock to argue, letting him manoeuvre you like a doll.

you don’t like going on missions, don’t like hurting people. you’re only ever sent on the easy ones, the non-violent ones, where you try to convince mutant kids to join the school. you’re good at talking to children, at getting them to admit their fears to you, at soothing their worries. but even the easy missions don’t always go well.

charles could sense that this particular child was powerful, and far worse than that, he was angry. he’d lashed out when he’d seen you, screamed in anger when his parents expressed a desire for him to go to xavier’s school, to learn to control himself before he came back home again. his parents were frightened too, scared of what might happen if things continued the way they were.

they’d all died in the explosion of his power.

he was so scared. he never meant to hurt anyone, you could see it in his eyes when the fire continued to burn despite him letting go. it was out of control, no longer a part of him that he could control like an extra limb, but something with a mind of its own.

it reminds you of yourself when you’d first discovered your abilities, scared and alienated from the rest of the world, from the non-mutants around you. you see yourself in every kid you save, and in every kid you lose.

you stay in logan’s arms for a long while, the only sound in the room his steady breathing contrasting with your ragged, choked out sobs. his chest rises steadily against yours, a rhythm that you try to imitate but you can’t, and with every failed inhale you feel your frustration grow, your panic increase.

he picks you up easily, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clutching onto him so as not to fall. he would never drop you, you know that, but it’s always a slight surprise when you’re not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

he leads you to the bathroom where he helps you strip out of your clothes, so gentle with your shaking form. his hands trace each new sliver of skin revealed to him, keeping a firm pressure on you always, grounding you, reminding you of where you are. not in a burning house watching a child’s corpse go pitch black from the flames, but in the house that logan bought the two of you, not too far from the school but enough to give the two of you privacy.

in the shower, the blood rinses off your skin, pink rivulets swirling down the drain. yet you can still feel it, thick and sticky and warm. you want to scrub at your skin until its red and blistering, until you have to grow a new layer of skin, a fresh one that hasn’t been touched by death.

logan doesn’t let you. he catches your hand and whispers, “let me take care of you, darlin’.”

you lean into his bare chest and he massages shampoo into the roots of your hair, over your scalp until it foams, and then rinses it away. he runs your conditioner - the one he always claims is too expensive and why would you spend so much on hair products - through your hair, tugging gently at the strands when he notices you disappearing into your mind.

afterwards he pats you dry, and kisses every inch of your skin, reverent, on his knees before you. and then he rises to his feet and finally presses his lips to yours, soft and intimate, not rushed or heated, just reassurance that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going anywhere.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks eventually.

you shake your head, “he was just a kid.”

“i know,” logan says, rubbing his large, rough hands over your arms, up and down, “but it’s not your fault, you know that. you can’t control what other people do. d’you blame storm for what happened?”

“no!” you exclaim, eyes wide at the implication that one of your best friends could have caused the boys death.

“but she was on the mission with you,” logan comments, and you shake your head, “if you don’t blame her, you can’t blame yourself. neither of you knew, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“maybe,” you say. you don’t really believe it, but logan knows it’ll take you time to get back to your usual happy self, and he’s fine with staying by your side, whispering praise and reassurance until you start to believe him again.

afterwards, he puts on your favourite movie. he spends the whole time making fun of the characters and their decisions, grumbling about how movies will base their entire plot progression on actions no real, rational person would ever do, until you giggle wetly and slap him in the arm, telling him to shut up and let you watch the film.

you lean back into the circle of his arms and he holds you tight, occasionally wiping stray tears that run down your cheeks. there’s less tension in your muscles now, but you’re not quite relaxed, so he shuffles the two of you around until he can massage your shoulders and back.

you moan at the feeling, sinking into the sensation of his large hands working at the knots, until you’re putty for him. you feel warm and fuzzy by the time his hands start to stray down, massaging your thighs.

“feelin’ better?” he asks as the end credits roll, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“yeah,” you sigh, “thank you for taking care of me.”

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 7: The end of beginnings

genre: angst, fluff, a lot of introspection

word count: 9743 (MY GOD IT'S A LONGER CHAPTER)

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

This chapter I'm dedicating to @chicaconfundidaycuriosa who makes my day with her hypothesis in the comments <3 thank you all for your support throughout this series!

“You do it.” 

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head so fast you feel like your brain is shaking too. “You do it!” 

“Your entire job is about people, you do it.” He insists, gently nudging you forward, but you don’t bulge. “Y/N, come on, it’s not that scary!”

“I’m not scared, I just hate talking on the phone! You wouldn’t know what’s that like, since you barely use yours.” 

“And now you’re diverging,” He giggles, pushing the phone over the counter to you once again. 

It has been almost thirty minutes of this and that is not really how you imagine spending your morning after all that had happened last night. For a moment there, Spencer’s voice fades to the background and all you can focus on are those beautiful, pink lips. Now that you know how they feel– the perfect balance of chapped roughness and natural softness; not now that you know how he tastes, something so naturally Spencer and minty toothpaste; not now that you know how he sounds when he whispers for more, more more. Not now, not ever.

Took you both some time to come down from the absolute high of acting like teenagers. What had started like a sweet, slow kiss, quickly turned into what teenagers would refer to ‘making out’, and suddenly you two were a little hurricane of hands, lips, and tangles bodies trying to make it to the room. The feeling of his hands on your waist, tugging you closer, pushing you down– “Y/N?”

Your cheeks explode in a fiery red shade when you realise he’s caught you daydreaming. 

Again. 

“Yeah?” Shaking your head slightly, look down at the phone being pushed between you two. 

“Are you going to call her?” 

To be fair, you haven’t really explained everything to him considering how… distracted… you were last night. And then this morning. And even now, mind going not so far away from the kitchen to the room, where absolutely nothing had happened last night. Absolutely. Nothing. Frustration settled after a while, a thrumming hum in the back of your head that never really let you fall asleep. It was only natural that after so long craving this, you had been excited at the thought of finally letting it happen, of allowing yourself to enjoy a moment that had meant as much in your dreams as it did in real life… but then you two made it to the bed. And you laid down. And suddenly, the underlying need behind every push and pull of his perfect lips against yours started to fade, and his hands that explored your body oh so eagerly started to slow down, and before you could say anything, he was backtracking to forehead kisses and getting up to brush his teeth. 

Like it had been just another day. 

Just another kiss. 

“I don’t want to,” You whisper back, eyes wide in a vulnerable state that has nothing to do with Abigail or the fact that you are about to hire her to take care of your store. 

This is not even about last night.

This is about this morning. 

This is about the fact that when you woke up, he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was tussled, and the pillows were thrown around, but Spencer was missing. For a moment, your heart sinks. You scramble around the bed, feeling out his side, searching for something, anything, that would give into your dwindling hope of last night not having been a dream, because god knows how many dreams you’ve had of him. But then you hear it, the sound of the shower running and the light humming of a man who has not a single musical bone in his body, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

Then it downs on you. It wasn’t a dream. Spencer kissed you last night, that’s a fact. And now he’s about to come out of the bathroom and you refuse to let the first thing he sees, on such a special morning, be this messy hair, panicked face version of yourself. The way you roll out of bed, rushed to the point of tripping on the blankets and falling on your knees with a hiss, is enough to have you laughing at yourself. Your cheeks blush when you think of facing him so early in the day and despite the excitement of it all, you are nervous. What will he say? What will he do?

Making breakfast seems like a great way to ease your overthinking mind of any incoming anxieties, and it’s a simple matter of action and reaction. 

Action, breaking the eggs over the hot pan. Reaction, frying some eggs. Action, putting the bread in the toaster. Reaction, getting some toast to eat with your eggs. Action–

“Good morning.” Action, Spencer comes out of the shower.

“Good morning,” You call back, looking down at the pan with such an obsessions you barely notice him stopping behind you. 

You do notice his hands landing on your waist, though, and when he turns you around, you can smell the fresh scent of his minty soap he loves so much. His smile calms you a little, and he leans forward, coming down, down, down… until his lips touch your forehead. “Slept well?” He mumbles, reaching behind you for a toast and then walking away to grab his bag from wherever he hid it. Blinking, you can’t even answer his question. Is he fucking teasing you or is he serious? 

Safe to say, you don’t really speak up then nor later, and that’s how you two end up where you are, sitting in front of each other in a stupid battle over who calls who. 

“Why don’t you want to call her?”

Eyes cast down, almost in shame, you shrug. “I…” How do you explain it to him without sounding crazy? “I don’t know, Spence. She makes me feel… weird. Like she knows something I don’t.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” His nice words can’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s just change. And you’re human, Y/N, which means you naturally don’t like change. But it’s okay, I promise. You already asked Garcia to dig as deep as she could and nothing came up as suspicious. You also refuse to entertain the idea of hiring your second choice because you said, and I quote, ‘he grabbed a book with greasy hands.’ So, this is pretty much the only option you have.” 

Great. Instead of a kiss that you crave, you get the dose of reality check you deserve. “Thank you, Spencer,” You grumble, the irony of your words not missing the spot when his smile falters. You grab the phone to dealing the number you’ve been avoiding for so long, but you stop before pressing call. “Fuck.” 

“Y/N–“ The magic of last night is gone when his phone rings and you know he has to go. 

“Go,” You whisper, patting his shoulder with dejection. At this point, the morning is ruined and, to be very honest, he is partially at fault. 

A kiss is not something you would consider casual. You know a lot of people do, and that’s okay; you don’t mind about how other people live their lives. You do, however, care about what Spencer thinks and does, and in your books, kissing you and then ignoring it the next day is simply not acceptable. But then you sit with it for a while, and your brain starts whirring up. Usually, when you open your eyes, the sun is barely up and Spencer’s breathing is regular enough to keep your head going up and down, up and down, up and down. The more you two cuddle, the more you realise you love the sound of his heartbeat– you were yet to see him hurt, but you’ve heard enough stories from past cases that now, whenever you got that little extra confirmation that he is okay, you feel a sense of relief that you can’t really explain. Yet, that morning, when you finally make sense of what the fuck was happening without the your usual warm body next to you, you don’t feel relief. You don’t feel anything, to be very honest, because for a moment, your blood turns cold at the idea that Spencer might have woken up and regretted it all. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” He frown, cocking his head to the side in that way that makes you think he’s about to tell you something about yourself that you’ve never asked. “Y/N–“ “Go to work, Spencer,” You repeat yourself before pressing ‘call’. The phone in your ear is enough to keep him from trying to chase you. “Abigail? Hi! This is Y/N, from the bookstore… Yes. Yes, and from the uh, from the building. I’m calling with good news– you seem like the perfect person for the position. You– oh, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to bring me anything, it’s fine!”

This is the last thing you need– Abigail and her nosy nature. “What’s going on?” Spencer I next to you and his mouth is so close to your ear you shiver a little when he speaks. 

“Abigail, please, I’m about to go out and– oh, no, my… Spence is going to work. Thank you for offering to bake a cake but I’ll just se you at work, okay? Alright. Yeah, okay, thank you! I’ll be sending you a follow up email with all the information for next steps. Thank you! Have a good day! Bye!”

“Y/N, did Abigail do something to make you uncomfortable?” His hands on your shoulder that hold you at arms length are starting to annoy you. Now he didn’t even want you close? There is more to it and you know it. Above all, you’re not completely illogical, but your brain is working overtime and your heart is hurting, and now every little thing Spencer does will be an issue. 

Fed up with it all, you stomp your feet and walk away. “Go to work, Doctor Reid!” The impetuous way you huff as you turn around and slam the door of his room shut has him gasping, and you can hear if from where you stand, embarrassed by yourself and your ridiculous, childish behaviour. Still, you refuse to go back out there until you’re sure you’ve heard the door closing behind him. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter after you sit there in your own silence. The apartment doesn’t feel the same as it used to anymore. It’s not a matter of coming in and watering his plants anymore. You don’t just walk around looking for clues from the scattered books in his apartment anymore. You actually know things now. You know parts of his life that he had to tell you, parts that you didn’t have to guess, and it actually felt good— he was opening up out of his own volition and now you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you got greedy. Maybe you got greedy for his welcoming arms and whispered pet names. Maybe it all felt too good, and, just like Icarus, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now you are falling, wings melted and ruined. 

Before you know it, you’re already dialling your mom’s number. 

“Mom?” You are sitting on the floor, legs pulled to your chest with a ridiculous pout on your lips, and from the way she laughs on the other side of the line, you think she can hear it. 

“Well, look who it is,” She teases. It’s easy to picture her face when she says that. You two have made a dance out of it, this whole loving sarcasm thing, and she always go first. Naturally, you just follow her lead. “My daughter who forgot I exist.”

“Aw,” You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “Is this my mother? The one who knows how pick up the phone and dial my number if she wants to talk to me?”

You two laugh for a while before she speaks again. “I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen your face in a while and… and your dad misses you too, you know?” The slight sniffle on the other side of the line breaks your heart a little. 

“I miss him too,” You whisper, voice a bit too soft for her not to notice. 

“Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen?” It’s no surprise your mom panics quickly when it comes to you, specially after everything that happened in New York. “Is it Josh? Did he find you?” 

God, how it hurts that she even has to worry about that. “No, no, it’s not Josh, it’s…” You are yet to tell her about Spencer. And not in the context of this entire situation with Cat, but about Spencer as the wonderful human he is. About his quirks and his love for books and his chess addiction and… and the fact that he has your heart in the palm of his hands and you’re scared. You’re so scared. “I met someone.” 

Her gasp has your eyes shutting– it’s so nostalgic, that noise of motherly surprise, that you can’t help but bask in it. Growing up, you had always been very close to your mother, enjoying days out together on Sundays and always trusting her to keep your secrets safe from the world. She was your biggest fan, too; supported you on everything you did, cheered from you from the sidelines of every game you wanted to try, helped you convince your dad to let you go to parties you never enjoyed. Never had she unfairly punished you, never had she betrayed your trust, never had she treated you with anything but love and pride. Hiding things from her is hard, possibly one of the hardest things you have ever done, and you hate how easy it’s becoming to deflect her questions and ignore her comments, because truly, all you want to do on days like this, where your heart hurts and your spirits dwindle, is to go to her and cry. Is that too much to ask? 

“Tell me about this person,” She immediately shuffles around and you picture her in the same living room you’ve grown up reading book after book. If you have to guess, she has her usual coffee mug next to her, an addiction you blame her for passing onto you, and she’ll throw the old knitted blanket she’s so proud of making over her legs.

“Well, his name is Spencer–“

“Spencer is a good name!” She whispers to herself and you smile. 

“It is,” You agree, stretching your legs in front of you and wiggling your toes, glad to be distracted by anything and everything that gets your mind off of last night. “He is a good guy. My favourite customer, actually. That’s uh, that’s how we met.” 

“At the store? That is adorable!” 

“Yeah, he reads… a lot,” That is the understatement of the century. “He was my first client when I opened up, and we kind of became friends and gotten closer. Then I kind of, uh, started apartment sitting for him, whenever he was away at work and we just–“

“Oh, what’s the apartment like?” 

“It’s… beautiful,” You mumble, looking around with a small smile playing on your lips. “The walls are this pretty shade of green and it’s really cozy? Books all around. I like it here.” 

“Here?” Oh no. “Wait, are you at his house right now?” 

“Yeah,” You mumble, picking the lose threads on the socks you borrowed, one blue and the other purple with polkadots. For the life of you, you couldn’t find matching pairs in his sock drawer. “I’ve been here a lot, lately.” 

“Is he out of town?” 

“No.” The silence that follows speaks volume, and for the first time ever, you realise that your mom might not be just worried. She scared, too; for the daughter she saw so happy one day and then moving cities the next. “Mom?” 

“I– I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Her words are kind, but the edge of hesitation is there. “And you’re not going too fast, right? You said you’ve known him since you opened the store, so that’s a year and something, and–“

The assumption that you are repeating the same mistake you’ve make with Josh annoys you. You’re not the same person you used to be, you’re not like that anymore– needy and blinded by love and all the shinny things it brought you. You’ve come a long way since then, and you know your mother recognises that, you do but… but you’re still embarrassed. Embarrassed about who you were. About who you loved. It’s a bit ridiculous, how whenever one of your parents bring him up, you immediately raise your defences, walls coming up so high you can’t even see over the green field of life that awaits you on the other side. 

“Mom,” You wince when your voice comes out a bit too harsh. “Sorry. Mom, I’m fine. We’re… nothing. I’m here because… because a pipe burst in my apartment and he was kind enough to let me stay at his place.” 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I’m glad you have someone to help you out when we’re so far away.”

“I wish you guys were here,” You whisper, slowly getting up to move to the living room. You immediately sit down in the armchair, grabbing your blanket and covering yourself. If you couldn’t hug your mom, this would have to do. “You’d love him.” 

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

“So handsome,” You giggle, and it’s an instinct, looking to the side table in search of that familiar frame of Spence and his team at a fancy dinner. You love his smile when he’s happy, so wide and taut that it almost looks like he has too much emotion in proportion to his body. “And he’s so kind, mom. He’s kind, and gentle, and oh so smart. A genius, really.”

“Of course he has to be a genius to keep up with you and the hundreds of books you read in a year,” Her reply is comical when you think about it. The idea of Spencer having trouble keeping up with you, and not the other way around, makes you laugh. “So why do you sound so sad, if he’s such a great guy? He’s treating you good, right?”

“He treats me amazingly, it’s just that… we kissed last night.” 

“And it was bad?” Her teasing makes your shoulder relax enough until you are melting onto the chair. “That’s why you’re sad?”

“Mom! No!” Cringing, you hug the throw pillow closer. “It was great. Amazing, even! It’s just that it was our first kiss and then this morning he just… didn’t do it again.” 

“Oooohhh, I see what’s going on,” She chuckles. “You expected him to talk about this and he didn’t, did he?”

“How do you know?” 

“Because you dad was the same way–“

“Oh gross, no, no, no!” You refuse to fall onto this freudian trap. “I’m not dating my dad!” 

“Wait, so you guys are dating? Is this you telling me you have a boyfriend?!”

“No!” Groaning, you know you’re between a rock and a hard place. There is no escape anymore, and you have to come clean. “I don’t know! We kissed, but then he didn’t talk about it this morning and he just left like nothing happened, and and– and yesterday, he didn’t even say he likes me! I’m too old to be on this whole will-they-won’t-they thing, mom! I need verbal confirmation!” 

“Well, have you asked him? Or told him how you feel? Or tried to start a conversation?” 

Squinting at the phone, you huff, incredulous at her insinuation. Her correct insinuation. “Mother! Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours,” Your mother laughs. “Which is why I’m saying talk to him. If he won’t start the conversation, do it yourself. I raised an independent young woman, and this is the perfect time to prove it.” 

You wait a second before sighing. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, sweetie?” 

“Of everything. Of what happened before. Of it happening again.”

“Y/N,” Your mother say and suddenly you think you’re about to get scolded through the phone. “You can’t be afraid of your future because of one mistake you made in the past, sweetheart. I– I’m sorry we didn’t notice. I’m your mother, I should’ve noticed, I should’ve said something, and I’m never going to make that mistake ever again. So I’m saying something now. You haven’t sounded this excited about pretty much anything in a while. You… You sound like how you used to be. But better.” 

“Mom,” There is no one to witness the way your lower lip trembles at her words. Back then, you thought you were doing a good job keeping your parents safe from it all– you thought you were good at hiding the tiredness with makeup and the miserable tone of your voice with sweet high pitched laughter. None of your parents ever talked about what was happening, either. They didn’t ask questions like how your mom does now; they didn’t see past the beautiful necklaces, the pretty dresses, and the important parties. They were blinded, much like you were, with the fake promises of a happiness that never came. And now here you are, scared out of your mind to jump into this again, and yet, everything fades away when your mom guarantees you she’ll never let this happen again. As grown as you are, nothing reassures you more than your mom– your biggest fan and your biggest protector. 

“I’m scared too,” She whispers, like she’s telling you her biggest secret. “I’m scared my baby will hurt again and I won’t be there to help. I’m scared I’ll never be able to visit. I’m scared about a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetie. But I prefer to focus on the silver linings.”

Ah. So that’s where you get if from. “And what are the silver linings here?” 

“You being you,” It’s as simple as that for her. “And that’s all I really want.” 

For about an hour, you two stay on the phone, chitchatting about the randomise things. It’s no secret that you miss New York– the bustle of people, the endless lights, the pollution and its grey hue in the air. God, you miss it a lot, but what you miss the most is the ease of everything. Moving around is quick, whatever you need you just need to turn the corner and a deli will surely have it, and, above all, whenever you want to see your mom and dad, all you have to do is take the express from the Upper east side down to Midtown and you’re there. You’re at the same small apartment you grew up in, the same brick walls, the same loud neighbours, hell, even your room still looked the same as you left it! But that’s not what you need right now, even though you would love to see your old room with such new eyes… what you need is that feeling of warmth spreading through your chest when it dawns on you that you are home.

“Mom, I have to go,” You finally say. “But let’s talk more often, okay? I miss you and dad a lot.” 

“We miss you too, sweetie. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Hanging up the phone is harder than you expected it to be, but you don’t have a lot of time to suffer in silence. 

Spencer is a man who naturally avoids all forms of technology. He is not the biggest fan of computers and cellphones, and whenever he texts you or calls you, you feel like you’re winning in life. You’re the exception to his firm, firm rule. But for work purposes, he had explained, he had to be reachable at all hours, meaning Spencer has something you haven’t see in ages– a landline phone. When it starts ringing, that nostalgic loud, shriek of a ring that never fails to make you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

Instinctually, you reach for it as if you are the one expecting a call. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and say Dr. Reid’s residence, how may I help you? Yet, you don’t. You stop yourself just as the tips of your fingers touch the phone and you pull back. This is exactly what happened last time– a box for him and the consequences ending up being yours to face. Since then, you’d like to think you’ve grown smarter, and so you let it go to voicemail. 

“Hello, Dr. Reid, this is Nurse Kenny from Bennington Sanitarium. I’m calling about your mother.” 

Somehow, this still feels like facing the consequences for something you didn’t do. 

—————————————

 In your defence, you did try calling Penelope before panicking. You called her, you called Spencer, you even called the BAU hotline in a feverish desperation to reach your boy wonder. All the hurt from that morning, all the pain and the insecurities immediately fly out the window as soon as the nurse hangs up with a final call me when you can. 

“Fucking hell,” You push your way through the crowd trying to make out of the subway station, everyone rushing through the steps to finally be set free in the loud streets of Washington, and if it was any other day, you might have taken the time to enjoy it. The sun is high, the air is cold, and the smell of coffee reaches you almost instantly. 

But there is not time to be happy when all you can think about is Spencer– his face crumpling up in that way it does whenever it goes uncharacteristically serious, his brows furrowed in worry, his hands frozen in place like the rest of his body. It kills you being the deliverer of bad news. It’s something you have always tried to avoid, ever since you were a tiny little girl and you had to tell your friends that no, you didn’t like My Little Ponies and then later on that also no, you didn’t want to go to that party. The disappointment in their faces always makes you crumble, give in, give up, anything to see them smile again. 

This time around, you can’t do that. You can’t give up, or tell him something he wants to listen to instead. This has to do with his family, and you don’t know anything about his family– so you know they mean a lot to him. Oddly enough, it’s one of his little weird habits that you find the most endearing; for someone that talks a lot, when it comes to the people he loves, Spencer doesn’t talk at all. Maybe this is the price to pay to work at the BAU… when the most despicable and inhumane people in the world know his name, he has to do everything in his power to not let them find out any other. 

“Ma’am, where do you think you are going?!” The security guard approaching you is, to say the least, terrifying. You forget that you have to sign up, so uses to walking in with Officer Kaper and his badge, except this time around, you didn’t have time to call him. You did everything Spencer told you not to do, and he will lecture you on it later, you just know he will, though you don’t really care about it, as long as he talks to you after this, you don’t care about what words come out of his mouth. 

Because sure, it was an accident– listening to the nurse’s message was an accident– but you still did it. There is no hiding it, you did it and my god, you feel terrible about it. Feels like something akin to looking through his phone while he is in the shower, close to searching through his letters at home, similar to reading through the annotations in his books. This is private. It wasn’t enough to be living at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes? You also had to go ahead and listen to his private messages? “I’m here to see Dr. Spencer Reid,” You say, lower lip trembling at the thought of a possible confrontation with this man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s urgent, I need to see him, I need to talk to Spence, he’s not picking up his phone and–“

“Do you have a form of identification? You have to sign in,” When he takes a step closer, you immediately shrink back, shoulders hunching forward in a tense attempt to cover yourself from his eyes. 

“Of course, yes, I’ll… sign in, but can you– I’m so sorry, but can you call Penelope Garcia? She is the BAU’s tech analyst, I think. She has a lot of computers and–“

“Get in line.” 

It’s an order more than a request, and you consider telling him to fuck off. Your nerves are high and you feel a sense of urgency that you have only felt one time before in your entire life– and that was when you moved to D.C. The thing no one tells you about signing in into the FBI is that is practically impossible. People like to think that all you need is a government issued ID, and technically, they are right– there is nothing else you can provide them other than you driver’s license, but the hoops they have to go through to grant you access add another ten minutes or so onto the wait that is already killing you. 

Until the clerk says, “Here you go, ma’am,” And gives you your visitor’s pass like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t hold the weight of the world for you then, as you shove it into that stupid guard’s face and runs to the far left end of the hallway. At this point, you’ve been at the building enough times to know how to get upstairs, but despite the faint familiarity of it all, you continue to feel displaced and singled out whenever those beige walls surround you. Your oversized cream sweater is like a beacon of light in such a dim office, but it serves its purpose to keep you warm against the powerful air conditioner in there. How Spencer gets anything done under those circumstances, you don’t know, but the shivers travelling up and down your arms are enough to keep you alert and on the look out for the most likely presence to see– your favourite bright pink, bleached blonde geek. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” He’s wearing a suit, much like the ones Agent Hotchner wears and you have to hold back tears. It’s all very intimidating, knowing that at any point one of these people could find you suspicious and start asking you questions. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess you can,” Clearing your throat, your hand squeeze the shoulder of your bag tighter, and when his eyes move to look at the slight movement, you know he’s a part of the BAU. You know he’s reading you like Spence does. “I need to find Dr. Spencer Reid,” Saying his full name still feels odd to you. “Could you maybe tell me where he is?” 

“Oh? Reid?” This expression you know– surprise. “Are you his girlfriend or something?” 

“His girlfr– I uh– I mean, I–“ It takes a moment for you to realise that if you say no, then you have to explain to this stranger what you really are to Dr. Reid, and that is a can of worms you rather not open right now, so instead of being honest like you always try to be, you blush and nod. “I uh, yeah. I am.” 

“Oh wow!” His genuine shock to the news ticks you off a little. It’s not all that crazy that Spencer would have a girlfriend, considering his charming awkwardness and his bright, beautiful smile. “He never mentioned a girlfriend before, I didn’t–“

“Is he here or not?!” You kind of shriek, widening your eyes in hopes to make him pity you enough to move on with this a bit faster. 

“No, he isn’t. I think his team just left for the tarmac, they got a case in this morning and–“ 

His voice fades to the background easily, your anxiety peaking through with that annoying ringing in your ear. Spencer left to another state and didn’t call you. Logically, you know that his job and his feelings for you, however good or bad they might be, are not connected. Logically, it is easy to make that distinction. However, you are not a logical person all the time. You are not a genius like he is, and sometimes, you let your heart lead; you let your emotions take over like a tsunami inside of you, crashing and crashing and crashing, until you are nothing but a crumble of what you once was. 

You are ready, too. Ready to give up and delay the inevitable until the nurse can reach him directly, until you’re not the one having to panic, until he can deal with this personally. Consider it an addictive habit of a you of many moons ago, a Y/N who let things go to protect herself and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Confronting Josh was never the best option, so you had to come up with strategies. Plans, schemes, lies. You hate that you’ve become good at those, hate that all the work you’ve done to leave those behind is now at risk, but something deep inside of you can’t let this go. 

Something that you know very well is the need to make Spencer proud. The need to be there for him after all the times he was there for you. It’s your time to be the hero. 

“Call Hotchner.” 

There is a harshness in your voice that is very much planted there. The same goes for the twitch of your brows, the bite to the inside of your cheek, the averting gaze to the floor. It’s time to tell the story the profiler wants to read, and you double down when you let out an exasperated sigh, pushing your disheveled hair back. “I need you to call Hotchner and get Spencer back here right now.” 

You shouldn’t want to laugh with how he fumbles with his phone, quickly dealing the boss’ number, but all amusement is gone when he mumbles something about an Spencer’s girlfriend and passes the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh god… hello?” You say, voice wobbling a little. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” In the background, you can hear some chatter and nothing else. Are they in the jet already? Have you failed? “Is everything alright? Why are you in the office?”

“I am truly sorry, sir,” You gulp down, glancing at the man in a silent request for some privacy. “But I need to speak to Spencer. He is not answering his phone and it’s an emergency. Penelope wasn’t answering either, so I thought I could come find her, but SSA Greenberg asked me if I needed help and–“

“Is that why you told him you were Spencer’s girlfriend?” 

“Family emergency trumps everything,” You explain, the heavy weight of you guilt settling in. For some reason, you think you got Spencer in trouble. 

“Miss Y/L/N, is this about your case? We explained that we would have cases alongside–“

“Sir, it’s his mother. I don’t know the details, but there was a call and they asked him to call them back as soon as possible.” 

The eery silence that follows has you holding your breath. You are not sure how much his team knows about the intricacies of his personal life, but they surely know more than you do, considering the immediate rustle you hear on the other side of the line.

“We’ve just arrived at the tarmac. I’m sending send Reid and Garcia back to help us from there,” Agent Hotchner says, voice dripping with authority. “Wait for him there. Tell Officer Kaper he will be relived as soon as Reid arrives.” 

“Office Kaper is… not here.”

“…We will discuss this later. They should be arriving in twenty.” 

“Okay. Okay, good,” You breathe out loudly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Once the call ends, once you give SSA Greenberg his phone back and evade all the questions he has about you and Spencer, once you push down the wave of relief that almost makes you fall to the ground… you make your way to Penelope’s office. You need credentials to walk into her lair, it’s not as simple as just opening a door– she is the gatekeeper of all things confidential, and you know not all people are authorised to walk in. The fact that this is the same woman who has invited you over for wine night and got so drunk she couldn’t stop talking about the one time she walked in on Morgan showering is actually insane. The Penelope you know can’t keep a secret for her life, but then again, this is not Penelope’s office. This is Garcia’s lair, and you need to remember that these are fundamentally two different people. Just like Spence and Dr. Reid. JJ and Jennifer. Prentiss and Emily. All of them had managed a level of separation that seemed practically impossible to you, leaving work outside of their homes in a perfectly packed box by the door. It makes you wonder, though, if when he walks out the door to go to the office, he leaves you behind in a box inside. 

Compartmentalising is not something you did well. You tried, back when you first arrived in Washington, at the recommendation of your therapist, but you seemed to struggle more than normal. At your core, you believe in honesty, in transparency, and despite everything you’ve been through, you never gave up on yourself, on your core self, not the self you’ve created to appease Josh. Though you did forget about her, for a while. Distracted by your new life, you missed your old self like you miss old high school friends; remembering the good old times but still doing nothing to reach out. 

Just like you told your mom, you’re scared it will happen again. That you’ll lose yourself in the beautiful world of Spencer Reid and lose sight of what matters– yourself. You might have learned this way later in life than you should have, but a relationship is a two way road and now you know that. Now, you want to know that, you want Spencer to show you that. There is a kind of romance in how he leaves books for you to read next to the armchair, a certain indication that he knows what you like. A type of care in how he buys the shampoo and conditioner you mentioned you liked one time almost eight months ago. This is where you are trying to meet him at, ordering the rare books he’s so desperate after through your unique contacts. Making him breakfast before work. Unfolding the corners of his books. Even though you express yourself better with words than actions, you don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle a little extra whenever he sees his coffee mug filled up for him first thing in the morning or how he always pretends to be caught off guard when you bring him a surprise book from the store. Spencer can read you like he has been born to do so, and yet, he still played along. For you, he’d always play along. 

Which is why, when they found you sitting on the floor next to Garcia’s office, he plays along. “Are you more comfortable there than sitting on my desk?” 

His casual tone shocks you a little bit. Scrambling to your feet, you meet him and Penelope halfway. “Spence!” You gasp, hands stretching out to touch him, feel him, ground him, anything. You just need to make sure he is paying attention, the hands on his biceps squeezing it slightly. “Spence, you need to call your mom! Something happened, and I tried calling you guys but you weren’t picking up, so I came here to tell you that you need to call her, you–“

“Y/N,” Spence whispers in that way that makes your heart speeds up. His eyes are stuck to yours, shinning with something you’ve seen before, something you’ve seen last night. “Y/N, my mom is okay. Hotch told me to call her as soon as he sent us back, she’s okay, everything’s been handled. Are you okay? Sweetheart, you’re sweating…” 

Garcia’s gasp falls onto deaf ears as you and Spencer lose yourself in each other. “I was nervous,” You mumble, trying to pull away and dab at your forehead, but he’s on it. His hands catch you by the elbow and gently bring you closer into what slowly turns into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence, I didn’t mean to listen to the message, I swear I didn’t, I was just there and the machine–“

“I know,” He nods his head distractedly and gently wipes you clammy skin with the wrist of his sweater. “I know, Y/N, you don’t have to apologise. Thank you for coming all the way here to look for me just to tell me to call my mom. I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course I would,” There is something building between you two, a tension very familiar to you now that you’ve been watching it pile on for the past couple of weeks. 

For Penelope, though, it is certainly news. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

Snapped out of the trance of those honeyed eyes, you turn to look at your blonde friend with a pale complexion. “Pen, no–“ 

“OH MY GOD, YOU TWO BONED!” 

“What?! No! Absolutely not!” Spencer takes a step back from you like he’s suddenly troubled by thought of being that close to you, and you can’t really hide how your heart breaks a little at that. 

“Yeah… apparently absolutely not,” You repeat, coming back down to your harsh reality since the bubble burst.

“What– What just happened?” She utters, but you don’t really give her a chance to develop her line of thought, grabbing the access card from her hand and swiping it through the reader to unlock her door. “Wait, wait, what–“

“I’ll stay here with Pen,” You say without looking back at Spencer. Your job here is done and until Officer Kaper can come pick you up, you know they won’t let you leave the building. “I’ll call Mike for a ride, so don’t worry about me going back alone. I–“

“He’s not here?” Spencer asks, looking around with that adorable confused frown of his. “Wait, Y/N, did you come here by yourself?! Didn’t we talk about–“

“No Spencer, we didn’t! We didn’t talk about a lot of fucking things, and then you left off this morning like you didn’t want to talk about it and, and, and I was panicking, okay?! You didn’t pick up the phone and I’m a big enough girl to take the subway alone!” Your voice certainly raises enough to have people looking at you two, and your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You are causing a scene at his workplace, and in your opinion, that is unacceptable. Gulping, you look down, tugging Penelope into her sacred space and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” 

“Y/N, wait–“ But the door closes midway through his sentence and despite him having access to enter, he knows better than to press on a sore spot. 

The worst part is that you kind of want him to. And you hate that part of yourself that wants such a reactive behaviour from this peaceful man. Spencer does plenty to show you he cares, even if he does it in his own quiet, subtle way, and that is enough for you. Fuck, that should be enough for you. Yet somehow, nothing seems to shut up that voice in your head telling you that yes, he is enough… but you aren’t. In your overthinking mind, you know that you are too average for Spencer. You’d never be able to keep up with him, with his spectacular brain and his humble attitude. At best, all you offer him are books, some observations here and there, and a warm body to hug at night. At worst, you’re a burden to a man who already carries the entire world on his shoulder. 

“You two?!” Penelope’s dramatic gasp is enough to put a pause on your pity party. “Boy genius and you?!” Scoffing, you sit down on the chair she pulled for you. “I know… sounds ridiculous, right? I mean, the man is a genius and I’m… well-read at best.” 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, we’re not going there,” Barely does she know you’re already there, that you’ve been there this entire morning. “What happened? Last time we talked, it was a crush and nothing else! And now you and boy wonder are ‘sweetheart’ing each other and the forehead kiss was just so adorable and–“ 

“We kissed.” 

The way it comes out to her, unlike how it did with your mom, is a confession rather than a posing issue. It makes your heart race and your sad face lifts for a second, enough to let a giggle escape. This is what friends are for, and you are happy to be living through this again. 

“YOU WHAT?”

“Pen, don’t shout!” You whisper, looking at the door like it’s about to slam open at any second. “What if someone hears?” “Would that matter?” She laughed. “You basically told the biggest gossip in the FBI that you are Spencer’s girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god,” You groan. Slowly getting comfortable in your chair, you pull your legs up to your chest and let your head fall on your knee dramatically. “He’s going to hate me.” 

“Now why on Earth do you think that? I’m pretty sure Spencer has had wet dreams of you calling him your boyfriend.” 

“Penelope!” It’s suddenly way too hot in her office, your entire body flushing instead of just your cheeks. “You are wrong, by the way… He had a whole dinner planned, you know? He was turning his apartment into the perfect date when I got back home, and he was cooking and he looked so good, Pen, so, so, so good and we just– I mean, it just happened! And then…”

Penelope is holding onto your every word, perfectly painted lips biting on her fluffy pink pen. “And then…?” Her wiggly brows are a dead giveaway of where her dirty, dirty mind is going. 

“And then, just as we get to the room…” You repeat, leaning forward as if you’re about to tell her the biggest secret of your life, only to deflate right after. “He pulls away, kisses me on the forehead, and goes to sleep.” 

“No!”

“Oh yeah,” You sigh, body crumbling in a defeated lump of limbs. “And then this morning? Nothing. Nada. Not even a peck on the lips as a ‘good morning’.”

“Oh wow,” She says after a moment. You find some comfort in how she seems as wordless as you were early today. “Oh wow, that’s… wow. It’s impressive, but it’s not shocking. Still, it’s… wow.” 

“Not shocking?” You shriek. “It’s very shocking!” 

“Oh, sweet pumpkin,” There is so much comfort in the clicks and clacks of her heels when she gets up and comes to give you a hug. Admittedly, Penelope’s hugs are much like one of a mother; warm, caring, and all encompassing. It’s enough to heal wounds you didn’t even know you had, like she is searching your soul the same way she searches the web for evidence– with expertise. “I sometime forget you’ve never known little boy genius when he was, well, little. Our pretty boy over there is not… the best with people.” 

“That’s mean, Pen,” You sigh, frowning a little. He might not say much about his feelings, and sure, sometimes Spencer is quite reserved to his own mind in a way that makes you think he assumes people won’t really understand what’s going on up there, but never has Spencer made you feel uncomfortable or bad about yourself. Saying he is ‘not the best with people’ actually upset you because despite a couple of hiccups here and there, Spencer is great with you. He remembers everything you say you like or dislike, he cares about your opinions even though sometimes you feel like you’re just saying the obvious, he is gentle with his touches and hugs. “Spencer is amazing, he’s always so careful with everything and everyone, and he’s so kind, and gentle, and considerate. He’s just too in his head sometimes, but that’s okay! So am I, so is everyone, you know?”

“It’s so cute how you’re quick to jump to his defence,” She teased, shaking you a little by the shoulders. “I know he’s all of that, trust me. I would die for Spencer– no, that’s too easy. I would kill for Spencer, and I actually almost did once! And–“

“Wait, what?!”

“And what I’m trying to say is not that he is a bad person, but that he can get a bit awkward. Try to think from his perspective, Y/N, the kid went to college when he was 14. All those crazy life experiences we had in college, he didn’t. And then he joined the FBI, and time just… got away.” 

“Are you trying to tell me Spencer Reid is a virgin?” You gasp, mouth hung open in surprise, because from the little action you two had going last night, you would not have betted on that. 

“God, no… or at least I don’t think so, but what I am trying to tell you, my cute bookworm, is that his experience is… limited to a couple of people. Very different people. One of his exes was a famous actress kind of people. They did long distance every single time kind of people.” 

Little by little, the engines in your brain start turning, and things start making sense. “He never… had a proper relationship?” Somehow, this makes it feel like all that weight that is sitting on your chest, the pressure of figuring everything out by yourself, the racing thoughts that can’t leave you alone… it’s all gone. All easing up in a lighter mist of confusion and sadness. 

Her curls bounce around her face when she shakes her head. “Not that we’ve known. So just… god, please give him a chance. He’s a good egg, a perfect egg, even! Just a bit confused with his own brain and, and, and he’s probably wondering what’s the proper procedure from here on out! He’s probably confused and wondering what to do and– and he’s so happy, Y/N. This morning, he couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t tell  

Morgan to shut up when he made sex jokes. He didn’t hog the coffee machine. It was like he was in his own little world and it was so cute to see him finally acting like the boy he should have been all along. I don’t want to see that go away.” 

Penelope Garcia has a tell that you are pretty sure she doesn’t know about. It usually peek through her desperate rambles that you love so much, squeezing her voice out of her until she’s barely speaking. You know she’s self-conscious about her rambles, the amount of times she has apologised to you enough proof of it, but when she starts feeling guilty, like she’s staying something she shouldn’t have been, Penelope’s voice dies down, to the point that her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.  

“Pen…” 

“I know you like him,” The intensity of her eyes behind her glasses is enough to have you looking away. “I know you do, you like him so much that you broke your security protocol and ran to the FBI to tell him that he needed to call his mom. Please don’t give up on him.”

“I’m not,” You whisper back, shaking your head so fast your neck hurts a little. “Pen, I’m not giving up on him, I don’t think I ever could. I’m just… insecure. I understand Spence’s experience is unique to him, but mine is unique to me, and I think we’re both in the learning process. I just wish he would’ve talked to me, you know? Spencer kissed me like there was no tomorrow yesterday and this morning he didn’t even acknowledge it. What if he doesn’t want to do it anymore? What if he changed his mind? You know, his brain works too fast and he could’ve thought about all the future scenarios in which this goes wrong and–“

“You know, sometimes you two sound so much alike that it’s scary. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.” 

“Hey!”

“Your intrusive thoughts are shitty!” 

“That is a really weird way to put it–“

“What are you two talking about?” Turning to look at Spencer, you’re surprised to see him all packed up with his satchel hanging by his side. You deflate a little at how ready he is to leave, thinking he’s going back to the tarmac to meet up with the team wherever they are, but he beats you to the punch. “Y/N, ready to go home?” 

“Oh,” You scramble to get up, grabbing your bag and your visitor’s pass and then nodding. “Yeah, I guess. Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, I told Hotch I’d be working from home in case my mom’s nurse called again,” He gives you that tight-lipped smile you love so much and you kind of swoon. 

“Alright,” You give Penelope a hug goodbye and from then on, you find yourself in the longest stretch of silence you’ve ever been before. 

The tension is there, taut enough that you feel like your stomach is being pulled out of your body every time he sucks in a breath a bit too hard or opens his mouth just to close it again. Every time, you think he’s going to initiate the chat, and, every time, he doesn’t. It disappointment after disappointment, and by the time you two make it back to his place, yo can’t keep it in anymore. “Spence,” You call softly, letting him open the door the the building without rush and following him inside. As per usual, he’s quick to let you lead, gesturing politely for you to go up first. “Spence, we need to talk about last ni– Abigail, what are you doing here?”

You’re not even at the top of the stairs when you see her, all sweaters and ponytails standing by your door. “Oh, hi boss!” Her joke makes you cringe a little, but you smile nonetheless. You must’ve done something to alert Spencer of how uncomfortable you actually are, his hand sneaking to grab yours as he squeezes past you to stand one step above, body almost covering yours completely. “Oh. Hi.” 

Her tone change is obvious even to your layman ears, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand in nervousness. “Abigail, right?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s trying to be nice, though the squint in his eyes tells a whole other story. “Good to see you again. Did you move in okay?” 

“Yeah,” The way she moves her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you, has red flags raised all up in  your head. “All moved in and ready to start work on Monday!”

“I’m happy to hear you’re excited, Abigail!” You reply with a forced chuckle, climbing the extra step to stand side by side with Spence. Your hands are intertwined behind his back, his fingers playing with yours, and if it’s to keep you calm or himself, you don’t know. “I’m excited for you to start at the store, too. Is there anything you need, though? I know I said I’d send you a starter email and a draft of a schedule, but I just haven’t had the time today. I’ll work on it as soon as I can!”

“Oh, no, no, no hurry!” Once she can see you, it’s like her whole persona changes. She’s bubblier when she’s talking to you, shoulders less tense and voice less tense. “I was just coming here to bring you this. It got delivered to my apartment by accident, but it has your name on it.” 

From behind her back, she pulls a brown package. It’s small and thin, and it doesn’t seem so have any logo on it. “Y/N, are you expecting something?” Spencer whispers, eyes not leaving Abigail’s hand and for a second you let yourself panic enough to believe she’s carrying a bomb. It felt like she was carrying a bomb. Like it was going to blow up and your entire life, your entire re-construed life with Spencer by your side, and everything would soon come crumbling down. 

“N-No,” You stutter back and your body goes frigid cold when Abigail takes a step forward to you two, arms stretched out to give you the package. “Oh my god, no, no, no one knows I’m–“

Quickly grabbing the box, Spencer wastes no time in getting you inside the apartment. “Thank you so much for bringing this, Abigail, but we really have to get home. As promised, you’ll hear from Y/N soon on that starter email. Have a great rest of your day!”

“Wait, I wanted to talk to Y/N about–“ The loud slamming of the door drowns her words out. 

Before even looking your way, Spencer is on the phone. “Hotch,” He breathed out, eyes wide in that crazed way that you’ve only see once before, in your shop when he had his gun out. “She found Y/N.” 

You know you can’t call this an ending, not when you two never even had a begging…

“We have to relocate her.” 

But it surely feels like one. 

---------------------------------------

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@glorioussunrise13

@idkimheretoreadonethibgofpsencdd

@pleasantwitchgarden

@issy25

@ilovechanyeol16

@gghostwriter

@stanswifties

@chicaconfundidaycuriosa

@dragon03138

@tbsloneely

@bloodredrubyrose

@rossemayme

@jackchampiongf13

@prentissmybeloved

@danielle-munya

@eliscannotdance

@keira-fitzsimmons

@jamieeboulos

@starofthedawn

@alikpo

@writingforoursouls

@marauder--harder

@spencers-love

@marauder--harder

@floverisland

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

kalena speakss 🪽! chapter in honor of game day! but it’s not looking too good for our faves i fear.

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“Can you open the door?”

“In a second, K! Be patient!”

“We need to talk, open this door!” Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.

I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me she’d be visiting.

I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. “What?”

“We need to talk about your birthday show.”

The show is something we’ve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?

“What about it, K?”

“So Summer backed out.” She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. “Something came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.”

“That all could’ve been a text message. Or a phone call.” I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. “Why are you here?”

“What, you don’t want me here? Julian around or something?”

My eyes can’t help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.

“No he’s at a conference in Philly— are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?” I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though I’m waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.” She says. “You sure you didn’t mess with it?”

I try to avoid looking at her. I’m a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s suspicious, and though I don’t know of what it’s still incredibly nerve wracking.

“Yeah. Not at all.” Which technically isn’t a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.

Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like she’s weighing odds in her head. “And what’s his name is in Philly, yes?”

“Yes. Kaylee, what’s up with all the—”

The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. “So then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.”

In all honesty, I could’ve kept the lie going. I should’ve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I could’ve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.

“Raye, I’m not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.” She reassures me.

“No, no, you’re definitely gonna be mad.”

“Was it Paige?” I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, she’s covering her mouth incredulously. “Raye, no.” She whines.

“I’m sorry!” I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I don’t regret anything.

“You’re gay?”

“I don’t think that’s the most important topic at hand.”

“Right, sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.

Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.

I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.

I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.

The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.

“Those pictures. Were you guys—”

“No, we weren’t doing anything then. I promise.” I reassured. Kaylee isn’t even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; I’ve known her long enough to know that look. “I dunno, she just makes me feel different.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldn’t understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl I’ve known for a month and a half. There really isn’t an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesn’t feel like it.

Paige doesn’t feel like a mistake, I couldn’t ever classify her as one.

The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. “Different? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?”

“We haven’t slept together, K.”

She raises her head gingerly. “Wait so...” Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly I’m even more aware of the bruises on my neck. “You’re telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that you’re just friends, when you’re not. But you haven’t slept with her and might have feelings for her?”

“It’s complicated, Kaylee. I—”

“It’s messy, Raye, that’s what it is!” She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. “You can’t be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.”

I don’t hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You don’t know that! Y’think she can’t be pillow talking someone else right now?”

I haven’t even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isn’t like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isn’t who she is.

“You’re still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isn’t messing with someone else either?” Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.”

I do know better. I’ve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.

I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. “Fucking hell.” I mumble under my breath.

“You need to make a choice, babe. It can’t be both, you know that.”

I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. “Yeah, I know.” I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldn’t have.

She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.

Then there’s Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.

I’m fucking screwed.

—

marayemusic

liked by paigebueckers, julianbaker_, and 2,307 others

marayemusic music video coming soon 🕯️?

view all comments | 2 minutes ago

—

June 2025 — Malibu, California

“Two minutes is crazy, P.”

“Shut up. Quit being nosy.” I responded.

We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.

“I’m not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” Nika hums. She’s smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. “Those photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.”

“Definitely not a girlfriend. It’s complicated, Nik.” I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. “She got a boyfriend.”

Nika’s jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julian’s relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didn’t think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.

“Are you being serious.” Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.

“Oh yeah. Deadass serious.”

“Paige.”

“I swear it’s not my fault.” I shake my head in defense. “She just— it’s literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.”

Nika doesn’t even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I can’t help but laugh with her. If I wasn’t in this position, I probably would’ve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl who’s in a relationship, and allegedly straight. It’s truly comical.

“Oh my God, you’re pussy whipped!”

“Chill!” I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. “I haven’t even had sex with her, Nik. This ain’t what you think it is.”

She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. “You know what this reminds me of?” Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. “This reminds me of Nyla.”

I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. We’d slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasn’t that.

Maraye wasn’t anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.

“There’s been many other girls since Nyla, y’know that right?” I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about your slut activities, P.” She brushes me off.

“You asked!” I counter.

“My point is, you’re letting yourself get in too deep again.” She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. “I’m not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I don’t care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.”

My leg bounces soundly under the table. It’s a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, we’re doing all that we’re doing while she goes back home to Julian.

“I can never figure her out.” I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. “I dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if I’m jus’ a distraction for him.”

“You caught feelings for her, didn’t you.”

I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.

I think I do have feelings for Raye. She’s all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. I’m searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs I’m thinking that it doesn’t sound like hers, or how someone’s perfume doesn’t smell as good as her’s does.

“I feel something for her, that’s for damn sure.” I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. “I needa clear my head, I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.”

Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

“What?” I ask.

“Not thinking straight. Get it.”

I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. “Ha ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.”

“You said it, not me!” The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. “All I’m saying, is that you don’t deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.”

I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isn’t the case. She isn’t my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.

I don’t know how to be second best. I’ve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether it’s basketball or anything else in life, I’d rather be dead last than second best.

So to know that Julian is Maraye’s first choice, and I’m forced to be second is fucking unbearable.

Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I don’t know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasn’t texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.

“P?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?” Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.

I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. “Yeah, fine. How’s recovery goin’?” I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.

[illuminiscentboba]

will iwaizumi get the memo? (he will, finally omfg)

plot: where you so obviously like him to the point that even oikawa is well aware of this crush but iwaizumi misinterprets your relationship with oikawa and is proven otherwise

its another rough day of studying, forcing yourself to read just another page before you give in but your mind already drifted elsewhere, the words your reading not actually flowing comprehensively in your head.

you had plans after this, plans to see iwaizumis childhood pictures with oikawa. you had helped the unserious volleyball freak run errands among other favors and he had offered you favors you could cash in whenever you wanted.

and today was the day, you were hoping to see a stunning, tan skin buff guy cooking at oikawas apartment but if he didn't come at least you would be able to look at the pictures.

packing up your bag with haste, you rushed to catch the train, already mentally preparing yourself for all the teasing you would get from the brunette as you melted at their childhood pictures.

you can already hear his coos and "you want him so bad," "simp" especially with how smug he looked whenever you guys were in the room together, god forbid how obvious and irritating he was when you guys would talk and do activities together.

Thankfully, his place wasn't far, you knocked and a long duration of time passed, before you knocked again, maybe they didn't hear you? you continued to wait, still nothing.

finally just as you were about to spam call your friend, the door swung open, apologies flowing out of the mans mouth, but not your friends mouth. a different mans mouth, his damp hair drooping, his lips curling into a half smile. "hey, y/n. shittykawa told me you were coming."

"hey." you greeted back, beating oikawa up in your head. "sorry if I made you rush out of the shower, he told me he'd be here by now."

"no problem, I looked kind of crazy earlier so I'm glad he told me so that I could freshen up." he freshened up because he heard you were coming? you tried not to let the delusions go to your head as he, picked your heavy bag swiftly off your shoulder, headed down the hall. he picked up a towel propped on the counter to continue drying his hair.

you made yourself comfortable on the sofa, trying to spot where your enemy, you mean oikawa, put the photoalbum.

iwaizumi watched your curious glances around the room. he had been wanting to hang out with you one on one and if this was the chance he'd be dumb not to take it. he reached into the drawer, pulling out the thick albums.

"looking for this?" he headed over with two albums, one with a baby plastered over it, the other with volleyballs on it.

"yeah, did he tell you to give me this too?" that sneaky man. "yeah, but he didn't tell me which one." that was a lie, oikawa had insisted he bring out the album he had with the two of them but why would you want to see that when there was already an album with just oikawa you could see.

he slumped into the sofa next to you the album with him and oikawa on his lap as he handed you the other one.

you flipped it open, trying not to think about how close you guys were and the way he leaned closer to see. you flipped through one page, then another then a few more, your pace quickening. did oikawa get confused? and thought you wanted to see him and not the sexy man beside you that you talk about eveyr week?

"wait slow down,"

"oh sorry, let me go back."

"no thats not what I meant...wait didn't you want to see these pictures? aren't you going too quickly to see them?"

he turns to look you in the eyes as you force away a conflicted look, not sure how to go about this.

"here look, thats oikawa this is when he lost his first tooth and finished crying about it." he points to the page, reaching over to flip to the next one for you. and here is when he caught his first ever fish, I caught an even bigger one but I don't know where the picture of that went.

he pointed out a few more with funny stories attatched to them, enjouying your giggles, and the questions about where he was during these pictures and what other memories does he remember with them.

he found himself talking much more than usual and more about himself than oikawa. he tried to get back to the topic, but you effortlessly returned the topic back to him, who you were more curious about.

In fact the photo album was brought back to his lap, and you were hardly focused on it, watching him as he recalled the stories.

"actually...there are some photos of me and him if you want to see."

he gestured to the book under the open album on his lap and you couldn't hide your enthusiasm as he handed you the album. "oh my god." you shrieked, stretching out the letters. oikawa had told you that iwaizumi was a roundfaced, skinny little kid that expressed himself well with his eyes, his sharp tongue, never failing him over the years but god was he adorable.

"oh my gosh you guys look soooo cute!" iwaizumi is complebely flabbergasted by your reaction. you looked at oikawas childhood pictures with barely much enthusiasm, the occasional giggle or oh my god coming from your mouth as you quickly flipped though it.

but here you were closely examining the pictures with you two together. you flip through a few more at a slower pace, stealing glances at him and baby iwaizumi, the sharp, angular jawline nothing like the circular face with plumb cheeks holding objects greater than his size.

"do you think I don't look cute anymore?" he jokes, catching onto your comparison. "well, growing has done you justice." he chuckles, telling you in detail his stories of bravery in the wilderness, and the mundane, shifting closer as he explains.

"please...why do you look so happy holding up these creatures?" you say through a fit of laughter. his obsession with bugs was hard to explain, you laugh at the embarassed scratch of his neck and flush, calling him one of those bug catcher pokemon trainers you fight against your will at the start of most games.

"bugs are terrifying, now I know who to call when I see a spider."

"they aren't that bad." "yeah they are" "your missing out." he insists, a soft smile growing on his face.

you point out another of those picture of iwaizumis chest swelling with pride as he displayed other strange objects to the camera and oikawa, and he lifts his shirt, pointing to the nicks and old scars on his body from those adventures.

you run a careful hand over the scars on his arm, his voice still laced with warmth startling you. "you should bring your baby pictures next time. I want to see them."

"do you?" you lift your head from his arm, looking directly up into his eyes. "and do you want the storylines behind my pictures?"

"I sure do." he hums, shifting your hair from your face. "though they're probably not that different from your face right now."

he can't dodge your swipe with how close you guys are, catching your arms with a laugh. "are you saying im the epitome of youth?"

"no im saying you could still do some growing." now maybe you won't be showing him your baby pictures.

the door suddenly slams open, a frazzled oikawa carrying an armful of groceries, the stack of it covering his face.

"y/n?? are you here?! did you find the iwa-chan album?" iwaizumis already straightening you up and untangling your limbs, the what have I told you about bringing everything up at once by yourself coming out of his mouth before he processes oikawas words.

"wait, you came here to see my baby pictures? and not his?" oikawa barely make it to the counter with the cluster of stuff. already stepping away after he places it onto the counter, sensing he's messed up.

"well...I can explain...."

yall shld read this:

studying with a sleepy akaashi and him pulling moves on you (they're working)

[uhhlifeig]

Quidditch Locker Room - Nov. 7 - word count: 360 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Gryffindor Quidditch locker room had emptied out after the team’s win against Slytherin. 

Remus Lupin leaned against one of the lockers, arms crossed as he watched his boyfriend- Sirius Black- rifling through his bag. 

His hair was a windswept tangle, and there was still a smudge of dirt across his cheek. He looked like the very embodiment of chaotic victory.

“Lose something?” the younger boy called out, his tone teasing.

Sirius whipped around dramatically. “Moons, it’s a tragedy! My gloves have vanished. It must be sabotage.” He narrowed his eyes, pointing at Remus. “You wouldn’t happen to be hiding them, would you?”

The werewolf rolled his eyes, pushing off the locker. “Why would I, when you’re fully capable of misplacing them all on your own?” 

“You’re just jealous of my heroic plays today. Did you see that Bludger I hit? Sent Dorcas spinning! Bet she’s still dizzy.”

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “I saw. I thought Marlene was going to ram into you for stealing her spotlight.”

The noiret grinned. “Ah, she loves me. Just like you do.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the dirty blonde retorted jokingly.

Sirius stepped forward, pressing himself flush against the taller boy, eyes wide with a faux innocent look. “But Moony, I can’t help it if you’re completely enamored with my sheer talent and devilish good looks. It’s a curse, really.”

Remus let out a dramatic sigh, playing along. “Yes, poor Sirius. How ever will you survive?”

The dog animagus tilted his head, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Well, I might just need a kiss.”

“Is that so? Well, I suppose I could spare one… if you ask nicely.”

Sirius clasped his hands in an exaggerated plea. “Oh, dearest, most benevolent Moony, will you grant this humble Beater a kiss of fortune?”

“Hmmm. Since you put it that way…”

His boyfriend leaned forward and caught him in a quick kiss, pulling back with a grin. “Victory sealed,” Sirius whispered.

Remus laughed and nudged him toward the showers. “Go wash up before I change my mind about indulging you.”

The noiret winked and saluted. “Yes, sir! But don’t go far. I might need more motivation.”

[ram-bles]

Plsplspls daisuke and reader romance hcs and my soul is yours

gn/transmasc whichever you prefer thank you so much

daisuke x reader | headcanons

part 4:

Romance edition

pay up anon ���👈 /j no, bc I have notes about this already and I saw you pop up in my notifs.

⚠️: 🔞 gn pronouns and masc pronouns* used, fluff, nothing explicit but there is implied sex (don't worry, it's optional. I put it at the end so you can skip.)

*bonus transmasc!reader category

🌺 Mentioned in a previous post. You fall first, he falls harder. He doesn't even notice until later on when he's doing the most mundane task and he catches himself smiling - "Oh."- while thinking of you. "Shiiiit."

🌺 The D in Daisuke stands for dense. Dense, dense, dense. To be fair, you guys are close and everything you've done together was seen as platonic. Heavy on was.

"Are you really bros if you don't cuddle to sleep?"

🌺 C'mon. He'll treat this like a romance visual novel game and you are the main and only love interest. It makes him less nervous this way.

🌺 Daisuke - for the life of him - could not use endearments. It makes him cringe. Will most likely call you by nickname or dude/bro (gnc).

"Babe... Baby... Honey— PFFT-"

"Daisuke." Last name mouthwashing. Followed by whatever his last name was. You gave him a warning tone.

"I can't help it!" He stifles his laughter but it turns into a fit of giggles.

🌺 Best friends to lovers is a perfect trope with him. I feel like the confession will come in naturally. You become best friends, blur the lines of platonic and romantic without realizing it, and the next thing you know, you're dating.

🌺 Experience wise? He's had a few relationships in highschool. Doesn't even know if he considers it as a relationship if he were honest. More-so flings.

⚠️ Implied sex. Ignore if uncomfortable.

🌺 If I were to lean more on to his mature side, then maybe things got too intimate. No promises of what happens next, but surely, you'd both question it. Don't get me wrong though, definitely an each other's firsts situation still.

Your sports watch vibrates on the table side, its buzz louder against the surface it was on. Groggily, you sit up, stretching and flinching at how sore you were before orienting yourself, unconsciously tugging the blanket closer to you.

The faint sound of the shower beside the shared room reminds you of the events last night and your brain felt like it was about to shortcircuit, thoughts silencing quickly as you hear the bathroom door open, making you snap your head back up and you felt like having another wire shorting in your brain at the sight, but you push it away for now.

"Mornin'!" And he says your name so sweetly, enthusiastically. Your heart ached. "I didn't take too long right? Did you just wake up?"

Your silence scared him, even more so when you hung your head low. He calls your name. "Did you not like last night? Ah, fuck- Is anything painful? I'm sorry. We don't have to do this again. I'm s—"

"Daisuke?"

"Y-Yeah? What's up? Seriously, you're worrying me, dude. Did I hurt you?"

"What are we?"

[ Bonus: Transmasc!Reader ]

🌺 Seeing your binder for the first time?

You two were back at your shared quarters. The day had just ended and you just wanted to change into your sleepwear and crash.

"Dude, that looks uncomfy. You sure it ain't too tight?"

"Nah. I made sure it fit. I have looser ones just incase. Don't worry, Dai." You were about to remove it when you notice him staring. Before this, you've been changing in the bathroom already, and at times he'd just turn away when you tell him to. He only realizes when you haven't moved for awhile and he instantly flinches. "Oh, sorry- turning riiiight now!"

"We're dating already... It's okay."

Plus, totally normal to see dudes topless.

He tilts his head curiously as he watches and it would be a lie if it didn't make you slightly conscious of your appearance, but you trust him. The smitten look he has makes you feel better. His eyes dart down to the small dents on your skin left by the band and his hand twitches.

"Can I massage it?"

"What? My tits?"

He calls out your name in mock frustration before laughing. "Y'know what I mean!"

"Yeah, yeah. Make some space on the bed then."

🌺 Probably would love pressing the marks away. Also, he gets to cling onto you while at it so win-win right?

🌺 Top scars?

"Duuuuuude. That's sick as fuck." His head was hanging by the edge of the bed, watching you change while upside down.

"Hm?"

"The scars. How'd you gettem? Don't look like it's from an accident."

"... Surgery?"

"Oh?" He stays quiet for a moment trying to piece two and two together. You wait for him with an amused expression. "OHHHHHH."

Right, he didn't know.

"Still sick as fuck though."

🌺 feeling dysphoric? he already treats you like a king, but hopefully you won't get too overwhelmed with his advances when he notices you feeling down.

"hey, handsome." "pretty boy!"

🌺 if he didn't know you were trans and you tell him, he'd be confused but in a way that's like, "I still love you, y'know. That ain't changin'!"

[ Updates: ]

🪓 i'm working on another ask at the moment and it involves a pilot intern!reader. they req afab!reader but it's difficult for me to write femmes and i usually go for gn or transmasc readers :(( I hope that's alright. I can try to make a separate post and do femme pronouns. What do you guys think?

it's going to be longer than my usual posts so it may take some time. so yeah! hopefully the anon who req it sees this.

That's all, thank you for reading!

[minnielvrr]

Day 22. Possessed

Lee: Jeongin Ler: Chan Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: it's been a while since i posted a fic hehe (sorry about that)😅 I hope you guys like this🤗💖

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@reginald-stay09, @jungwon-is-the-one

Chan first discovered it one night, absentmindedly petting FoxI.Ny’s belly as he began drifting off to sleep. Meanwhile, Jeongin was humming in the shower, but his rhythmic tune quickly shifted into shrieky cackles.

And at first, Chan had been concerned, calling out to check on the maknae only to be waved off. Pouting at how Jeongin didn’t care for his affection anymore, he whined to the plush, brushing his fingers over its sides and ribs.

To throw a mini tantrum, he poked at where he assumed the little fox’s navel would be, digging in and wiggling his finger around. He’d do this to Innie too when he catches him later.

“He used to be so cute, all ‘Channie hyung this’ and ‘Channie hyung that’,” he complained, the featherlight brushing of his fingertips turning into harsher pokes to the doll’s torso that eventually morphed into scribbles over the soft material.

And for every stroke of his finger, Chan registered that the maknae’s laughter grew louder and louder until he was stumbling out of the bathroom. A towel was wrapped hastily around his hips, and bubbles of soap lined his broad shoulders.

Jeongin’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks made him look both surprised and completely helpless. His hands were clutching his sides tightly as water dripped on to the floor, forming a puddle at his feet.

His laughs were bordering on hysterical at this point and it was starting to alarm the leader. Their maknae had never acted like this before… and yet the whole scene felt vaguely familiar.

Jeongin’s face was beet red and he was gasping for breath as he flailed and scrambled about, his fingers scratching at his exposed torso as he attempted to get rid of the phantom sensations.

“Stop, stop stahahap!!” He pleaded, seemingly to no one. The leader was just about to rush to the younger’s side when his thumb accidentally prodded the plushie’s belly and Innie squealed loudly, flinching as he tried to cover his tummy too.

Chan paused. “No way…” he murmured, looking from the plush in his hands to the boy sputtering and giggling outside their bathroom.

Chan paused mid-poke, fingers hovering over the little plush as he quickly pieced together what was happening. He stared at the doll in his hands and then at the giggling, scrambling boy on the other side of the room.

“No way… could this actually be…?” he wondered, an impish grin spreading across his face. To test his theory, he gently kneaded FoxI.Ny’s sides, watching with brimming glee as Jeongin shrieked, clutching at his own. “This… is going to be fun.”

Stuffing FoxI.Ny under his pillow, he hopped off the bed and sprinted over to Innie whose knees had given out. Chan gently rubbed his back as the younger wheezed, his hand pressed to his chest.

“Innie, what’s going on?” He asked, doing his best to keep a poker face. He had a pretty good idea what was going on, but he wanted to hear Jeongin admit it.

“I-I’m not sure hyungie. I was taking a shower one moment and then I suddenly felt like I was being tickled all over. It was so scary, I thought it’d never stop.” Innie stammered out, breathing shakily.

He was trembling, arms wrapped around himself protectively and Chan felt like the worst person ever. He hadn’t at all intended to make his baby uncomfortable.

Standing up, he walked over to the bed and grabbed the doll. His abrupt actions puzzled Innie enough to direct his focus to Chan who held up the little doll.

He bit back a laugh, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as an excited buzz filled him.

‘Maybe just one more poke…Just one?’ He thought, his fingers twitching with barely-contained mischief but he decided to hold back. Perhaps it would be even more fun when Jeongin actually knew what was going on.

“That’s…. FoxI.Ny.” The maknae looked confused. Chan smiled a little, scraping his nail softly over the little fox’s tummy and in turn, Jeongin jolted, grabbing at his stomach as he giggled breathlessly.

“Oh.” The maknae looked even more puzzled than before, then as Chan brought a pair of wiggling fingers to hover over the doll, he shrieked. “Hyung, no! Please youhu have nohoho idea how bahad it tihickles,” he implored and Chan relented.

“Okay okay, you finish your night routine and then we can have our fun.” The leader set the doll down gingerly on his pillow and brought his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“You mean your fun, right? You’ll just be torturing me!” Innie teased with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Hey, don’t even try to pretend like you don’t love it just as much as I do!” Innie poked his tongue out at him and shut the door to the bathroom behind him, leaving Chan to plan just how well he’d wreck his baby soon.

Innie took… much longer than usual to finish up, spending the better part of an hour hiding behind the pretense of completing his hair, skin and nail care. Chan let him, finding the younger’s nervousness endearing to the highest level.

He wondered if the other plushies around their dorm also had the same effect and not wanting to suffer the same fate he was going to inflict on Innie soon, he ventured out to find it.

He found both Wolf Chan and Leebit sitting on their dining table, sandwiched between two mugs as PuppyM stood over them with a fork taped to his hand and an unnerving smile on his face.

Chan giggled at the setup. Of course, Seungmin’s son was reigning supreme, even in their world.

He tucked Wolf Chan safely away in his hoodie, holding the other two in one hand and used his free hand to scribbled at their hips.

It earned him twin shrieks from Lixie’s room and a barrage of squabbling ensued when Minho and Seungmin began accusing everyone around them.

Chan didn’t wait around, zooming into the kitchen where he found Bbok.Ari hugging Dwaekki while Jiniret and Han Quokka guarded over their fruit basket with straws as their weapons of choice.

He gathered them all into his arms, stuffing some of the plushie in his hoodie pocket before making his way back to his room, buzzing with excitement. Every plushie he tucked into his hoodie felt like a new secret weapon.

Just thinking about his baby’s cute giggles and desperate pleas made him want to squeal with joy. He walked in on Jeongin searching the room desperately.

“Looking for this, Innie?” He called, watching with building amusement at the way the maknae flinched, then stilled. “Hyung…. I was just…”

The way he stood made Chan want to laugh. Innie looked so small and adorable, his hair still damp from the shower and the apples of his cheeks beginning to glow with a pink hue.

“You’re not running away from me, Innie~ I can find you with a simple swipe riiiight—ACK!” The moment he brought the plush out, Jeongin lunged, tackling Chan to the floor and stuffed his hands in the older’s armpits.

“Noahahahaha thihihis ihisn’t hohohow thihis wahas suppohosed tohoho gohohoho!!”

Chan gasped, giggles bubbling up as he struggled, arms wrapping tightly around the plushies he currently had on his person. Jeongin’s fingers were ruthless, digging into the centers of his pits— a spot the younger knew well to be Chan’s weak point.

“How’s that feel hyung-ah? Should I keep you giggling so sweetly for meHEHE—AH NOHOHOHO!!” While Jeongin was busy taunting him, the leader had found his doll, focusing all his effort on drilling into FoxI.Ny’s underarms.

The youngest fell back with a screech, kicking his feet and shaking his head as a wide, dimpled smile made its way to his face.

Catching his breath, Chan couldn’t help but grin, his heart swelling at Jeongin’s desperate laughter. Gosh, Innie was just too cute when he was like this

His face always lit up in the most adorable shade of pink, with little splotches of red deepening as the ticklish sensations got to him.

“What’s wrong Innie? You were so smug just a minute ago! Can’t take what you dish out?” Chan teased; eyes gleaming when the effects of his words manifested in the form of Jeongin’s pretty face being shoved into a pillow.

“Youhuhu ahahahre soHOHOHO UNFAHAHAIR CHAHAHANNIE HYUHUHUNG!” He whined, helpless through a stream of uncontrollable cackles.

“Now, be good for me, baby. Let me hear those pretty laughs,” Chan murmured, easing the pillow away with a soft, almost fond smile.

Exposed, the poor boy tried crawling away, twisting and rolling around to escape. However, the attempt only served to amuse the older.

“nahahAHAHAHA, NOHOT THEHEHERE! PLEASE HYUHUHUNG OHOHO MYHY GAHAHAD!!”

Jeongin staggered around, finally collapsing onto the floor in a fit of cackles when Chan aimed for the plushie's hips. He yelped, hands flying down to his own and clawing at the skin.

Somehow even his touch tickled, his raking fingers sending more shockwaves up his spine and frying his brain. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was well and truly at the mercy of their leader.

When twisting and turning didn’t seem to work either, Innie resorted to punching the fluffy carpet near their bed, eyes tearing up and cheeks aching from laughing so much.

“Yah keep it down, you’re gonna wake everyone up,” the oldest chided lightly, giggling at the way Innie struggled to retort but his words were swallowed by another onslaught of laughter.

“Ihihihim tryhyhyhing! Ihihim tryahahahaying!! Hyuhuhung ahahahahahahaha!!” It was even more fun knowing that while Chan knew that the rest were awake, sweet, naive Innie did not.

“Slohohow dohohohown!! Chahannie hyuhuhung pleheHEASE!!” He begged, hands clamping over his face to muffle his sounds but he couldn’t help but be loud with the way Chan’s fingers danced over the plushie’s vulnerable body.

“Okay.” And just like that, Chan let up. Jeongin gasped for breath, shooting a suspicious look over to the older. “That easy?” He asked, eyes narrowed.

“I never said this was over~ Now, how about a deal? I’ll stop if you give me a kiss, right here.” He tapped his cheek, eyes crinkling when Jeongin gagged playfully.

“No? Well then… Oh! I can finally get you to admit it with this!” Chan gasped out suddenly, eyes wide and bright and brimming with mischief.

And with that, the older’s hands were back. Chan resumed lightly, just tracing the tips of his fingers teasingly over FoxI.Ny’s sides and up his arms.

The action had Innie letting out the softest giggles, squirming from where he lay on the floor. “Nohohoho, nohohot agahahahahain!”

“Geez, how are you already laughing baby? I really can’t believe how ticklish you are.” The way Chan said it, completely matter of fact, without any teasing just made it worse. But Innie powered through. It’s not like he had a lot of options here.

The sweet sounds warmed Chan’s heart, his own smile stretching wide as he watched the youngest melt under his touch.

“Ahadmit whahahat?” Innie’s voice was growing more incoherent by the second. “That you actually really love the affection we show you!” Chan looked a little too determined for Innie to think he was bluffing.

“Ihihihi dohoHOHON’T!!” He tried protesting but the oldest wouldn’t hear it.

“Okay be that way then maknae-ah~ I’m not the one who’s gonna be tickled out of his mind.”

The softness didn’t last long, though. The leader walked over to him, and ticking the plushie with one hand he used the other to alternate tickling the same spot or a different spot on Innie's body.

“Ahhh IhihIHI HAHAHAHATE YOUHUHUHU!!” Jeongin giggled frantically, jerking away, when Chan changed spots, as if he could escape the torment.

The overlapping sensations sent the poor boy into hysterics, voice high pitched and rough as he howled with laughter. He fought weakly against Chan, but the older clearly had the upper hand here.

“FUHUHUHUCK HYUHUHUNG YOUHUH’RE KIHIHILLIHING MEHEHEHE!!” He all but wailed, Chan tsking at him to not be so dramatic.

There was no hope of the sweet torture ending and the younger boy started to feel a little light headed and buzzed, eyes dropping with exhaustion and laughter slowly dying down.

Jeongin’s resolve was broken easily. The exhaustion from the day and the older’s ruthless actions chipping away at the remains of his willpower.

“FIHIHINE IHIhi lohove youhuhur affectiohon!” He giggled out with the lasts of his breath, Innie’s laughter going silent soon after.

It was then that Chan stopped, helping him sit up and bringing an uncapped bottle of water to his lips. He drank the cool liquid in a daze, giggles still spilling out as random tingles zoomed over his skin.

He felt hyper aware now of where the leader's hands rested around his waist, flinching at the slightest movement.

Chan laughed at him, assuring him that he would be spared in exchange for a kiss and by now, the maknae was too exhausted to put up any act of disgust.

So, he leaned over and pecked Chan's cheek, huffing out a laugh at the blush that flooded the older's face.

Chan was so adorably transparent with his emotions. He leaned over and pecked his other cheek just so he could watch their usually bold eldest break down into shy giggles, hiding his face in Jeongin's chest.

“Stooop!” He whined, growing flustered from the younger’s unexpected affection.

And feeling suddenly emboldened by Chan’s reaction, Jeongin cupped his face, littering kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.

Then he sat back, still holding Chan's face up to look at him as his skin grew hotter under Innie's hands and redder under his amused gaze.

"You're so cute hyung." He told him, sending a scribble to his side as he got up and brushed himself off before climbing in bed—specifically in Chan's bed.

That night, he cuddled the oldest for a change, which allowed him gleeful little perks like leaning over to whisper to Chan every way he'd tickle him, all the different techniques he'd use on each of the leader's worst spots once he had Wolf Chan in his hands.

"I won't let you escape hyung-ah. I'm going to wring out all your squeakiest laughs and I'm going to record it. And what if I even get you to snort?”

Chan squeaked, trying to cover his ear but Jeongin wrapped his arms around him, pinning Chan’s own to his sides and rendering them useless. For once, he had hyung right where he wanted him, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip.

“Maybe Hannie hyung or Binnie hyung would use it in our next song~ Just imagine it, your cute little squeals for STAY to hear! They’d love it so much!" He mused softly, smirking when Chan's ears burned and the older squirmed in his hold, breath hitching and stuttering at the other's words.

"What's the matter, hyung? If just hearing about it makes you this flustered, I can't wait for the real thing." He teased. Jeongin knew it was mean, he also knew how much Chan liked being teased despite how shy he got.

He gently petted the older’s hair, helping him calm down from the embarrassment. Chan eventually gave him the little plush, smoothening his hands over its ruffled fur one last time before Jeongin snatched it away.

Then the older turned and pulled him into a hug; the kind that seemed to last for ages and take away every last bit of your strength. The kind that makes your worries and fears and insecurities fade feel not as heavy anymore.

He nestled his face into Chan’s shoulder, letting himself relax completely and enjoying the warmth radiating from Chan’s embrace.

Chan didn’t speak, didn’t say anything and he appreciated that. It made him feel cherished in a way he hadn’t quite expected.

It’s was nice, he thought, how Chan could make him feel so safe just by being close. Playfulness aside, there was something grounding about being held like this, something that made him feel… protected.

Chan’s hugs were like his own quiet version of healing, an unspoken promise of comfort that Jeongin had come to depend on more than he’d ever admit.

Feeling a swell of gratitude, Jeongin gave Chan’s arm a gentle squeeze, letting his eyes drift shut as he whispered, “Thanks, hyung. I mean it.”

The next morning, a lot of things seemed suddenly much more exciting. Rested and ready, the duo now had a secret weapon against everyone else in the band.

The two plotting against Minho this way. The next day, Chan tackled Minho during one of their breaks between dance practices, hands immediately going to the younger's ribs and vibrating into the crevices.

As he did, he glanced up, making eye contact with Jeongin, twin smirks appearing before Innie pulled out Leebit and began tickling roughly over its belly.

The maknaes fingers were quick, flitting about, one hand easily becoming two as Minho gasped, his hands shooting down to his belly from where they'd been grappling with Chan's.

“Get ohohohoff!! Youhuhuhuhu’re heheavyhy and groHOHOSS!!” He squealed, back arching and head thrown back as he struggled.

He couldn't see who was tickling his stomach, feeling pretty sure that both of Chan's hands were busy by his ribs. Not knowing his other attacker only made Minho feel more sensitive.

“Fuhuhuhuhck CHAHAHAHANNIE HYUHUHUNG PLEHEHEASE!!” He pleaded helplessly, struggling to escape.

But he wasn't allowed the luxury of having anything more than surface level thoughts when another pair of hands began squeezing his thighs and curling under his knees. Insults and retorts rose and died at the tip of his tongue.

And no matter how hard Minho kicked out, the movements didn't so much as pause, sending him spiraling into a giggly demise. How tragic.

This was what teamwork looked like—or at least, what their teamwork looked like. Perfectly in sync, with Chan’s hands scribbling over Minho’s hips and Jeongin’s own squeezing and poking his sides.

Together, the two reduced poor, ticklish Minho to a mess of laughter. His clothes and hair ruffled beyond help and neck and ears painted a beautiful shade of crimson.

They didn’t let up on their victim until the 15-minute break was over, Minho looking like he’d run a marathon as he lay limp on the floor.

“I’ll get you back Chan-ah!” The kitten vowed from his spot, “both you and your sneaky little helper!” But his flushed cheeks and teary eyes dampened the weight of his threat.

Chan and Jeongin shared a look, grinning smugly to themselves. There was still much, much more fun to be had and mischief to be dealt before they gave away their little secret.

[honorhearted]

Rebekah hummed under her breath, not seeming satisfied with their results. “What about this time around, we try another room, rather than the bed again?" she suggested. "Maybe the shower, or your office?” 

Ben smirked. "Call it the teacher in me, but shower sex is dangerous...I'll consider it if the non-slip mat stays on the floor."

God, was it any wonder he was still single? It wasn't exactly sexy to fall into "safety first!" mode, nor was it appealing to be so logical about something that was decidedly all instinct.

Rebekah hesitated. “Or…even here, on the kitchen counter…”

Ben's eyes snapped up to her face. "Unsanitary, but intriguing. Just make sure my arse stays away from the butter dish, and I might be amenable."

Appearing discomfited, Rebekah said in a rush, “We have to go again at least once tonight and twice tomorrow, so we might as well keep things…interesting?” 

"Three times," Ben echoed, though more to himself than to her. Cheeks pinkening, he rolled his lips inward and nodded, trying not to think too much about her gasps and the feel of her tongue in his mouth. "Yeah, uh...you're right that repetition is key, but the same positions and process aren't. Laying out precisely what we want might actually make this a little less awkward too, because I'll know I have your explicit permission with every touch."

Rebekah nodded. Her hands twisted the pen in between her fingers, and then she blurted, "W-where do you like to be touched? Your weak spots, I mean..."

Ben exhaled, shifting in his seat. "Um...the usual spots, I'd say. The neck and below the belt are always winners, but I guess that's a given with just about every guy." Here, he hesitated, then added, "What you did earlier was really nice, too...when you were kissing along my...ah..." Awkwardly, he gestured to his midriff. "The whole touching everywhere but there angle is always a little maddening."

Leaning toward her, Ben's face grew impossibly hotter. "Is it bad that this is kind of turning me on?" He ducked his head into his hands, laughing self-consciously. "God, I don't know if I can take much more of this, Beks...our list is like a submission to Penthouse." Quickly, he flung up a hand. "Er...not that I've ever read that, of course, but...there's only so much a guy can listen to before he starts getting unraveled. Alas, it would seem all men truly are the same."

Lowering his hands into his lap, Ben clasped them and watched Rebekah's eyes, fully aware of how indecently close they'd become throughout all this. "What about you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Where do you want to be touched?"

He’d agreed to her suggestions with little hesitation, so why did Bekah still feel so tense? It wasn’t as though they hadn’t already done it once. Why was it so awkward to talk about it now? Was she honestly so hopelessly into him that she couldn’t even discuss something that’d already happened between them? 

Maybe it was because their coupling was more of a means to an end. It was for both of them to have a chance at parenthood, not because Ben personally wanted to sleep with her. That was something she didn’t want to have to think about, lest she completely ruin the vibe. For Pete’s sake, maybe she needed another beer…

Busying herself, she scribbled down their current ideas. Under Ben’s name was “Shakespeare,” and “outdoors,” while under hers was “Mirror,” and a capital “M.”

Bekah didn’t feel right writing the entire word out at that moment. As she glanced up cautiously at him, she wondered who was sporting pinker cheeks. 

"That seem like a good enough starting point?" he asked. 

“Hmmm…” 

She wanted to say yes, but staring down at the short, sad list, she knew they should at least try to think of a couple more ideas, but rather than say that out loud, she opted to continue with another suggestion of her own. 

“What about this time around, we try another room, rather than the bed again? Maybe the shower, or your office?” 

What was the state of his office anyway? Was it even usable? 

“Or…even here, on the kitchen counter…”

The last part had sort of tumbled from her mouth in a slow, last minute thought as she shrugged through an uncertain wince, “We have to go again at least once tonight and twice tomorrow, so we might as well keep things…interesting?” 

Could she be any more awkward? The whole purpose of this conversation was to make things less so!

With a quiet sigh, she asked, "W-where do you like to be touched?" She suddenly felt dreadfully small, "Your weak spots, I mean..."

[coffeeghoulie]

Ghostober Day #29: Phone/Video

Much thanks to @kroas-adtam for putting Ghostober together <3

Pairing: Mountain/Dew/Aether

Aether sets some rules for Dew when he goes off on tour without him. Mountain finds a work around. Inspired by this post by @forlorn-crows

Explicit, 4k. Contains possessive Aether, anal sex, masturbation, mentions of piercings, stomach bulge, begging, and aftercare.

Divider by @wrathofrats <3

Aether wakes slowly, as he always does. His bed is too empty and too cold, but he still snoozes his alarm three times before he notices he has messages. He grumbles, still half asleep, pawing at his nightstand until he finds his glasses. He unlocks his phone as he shoves them on.

It's been hard, to say the least, being without his pack and without his mate at his side. He's never been away from Dew for more than a week before. Human technology makes it a little easier, but texts and calls barely hold a candle to the bonfire that is having Dew in his arms, in his bed, at his mercy.

Aether hadn't thought it fair that Dew would be in the company of their entire pack (minus Sunny, who'd be staying behind with him), all of them in close quarters and hopped up on adrenaline and constantly, perpetually horny. Dew's loved by the entire pack, but he's Aether's before he's anyone else's.

So he'd set some rules. Dew hadn't thought they were exactly fair, but a few orgasms had changed the tune he'd been singing.

Aether had been, quite smugly, saving every picture Dew had sent him over the last few months. Various hotel rooms, his bunk on the bus, the bathrooms and showers backstage at several venues.

Dew's spindly fingers in focus. Sometimes glamoured pale, sometimes soot gray and clawed. Covered in pearly, sticky cum, sometimes even with his stiffy still in his grip, just as messy.

"If I have to get off only to the thought of you for the next few months, darling," Aether had crooned in Dew's ear the night before the fire ghoul had left for tour, "Then you can only get off to the thought of me. Nobody else, alright, love?"

And to this point, much to Aether's delighted surprise, Dew's been a good boy (He really shouldn't be surprised. He's been Aether's good boy for a very long time, and Aether's put in a lot of effort in making him a good boy). He's sent Aether a picture of every single time he's cum to the thought of his mate and his hand.

If he's lucky, if Dew has the energy and the privacy to do it, Aether gets a video instead. He's never cum faster in his own hand than hearing his mate's breath hitching, whiny begging through tinny speakers, pleading his mate to let him get off. How much he needs it. A mouth, a cock, a cunt, a hand that's not his own, fucking anything, please Aether. But Dew's always good for Aether, follows his rules to the letter.

With the timezone difference, between his pack touring and him being back at the main Abbey, Aether often wakes up to new material to hoard in his spank bank.

He doesn't have to report to the infirmary for another hour and a half; plenty of time to squeeze one out. He blinks as he puts on his glasses. To his surprise, and his half-chubbed cock's dismay, there's no new messages from Dew.

There are, however, several text messages from Mountain.

Sweet Thing <3: you asked me and cirr to take care of the pack while we're away, and he's been really worked up the last couple of days so i thought i'd take care of him.

Sweet Thing <3: don't worry, i made sure he didn't break any rules ;)

Sweet Thing <3 sent a video attachment (816 MB)

Sweet Thing <3:you know what, maybe don't watch this if you're not alone. have a good morning, nova!

Aether opens his phone, opening his messages. They're all timestamped from about half an hour ago, the middle of the night for his pack, but just before sunrise for him.

The video attachment's thumbnail is black. Aether feels his curiosity piquing, glancing around his room like anybody'd be listening in. He's probably just paranoid, the band ghoul wing pitifully empty barring him and Sunny, but he grabs his earbuds just in case. He props himself up against the headboard with a grunt, blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes as he clicks play on the video, unmuting it.

The screen is dark, the phone camera-side down somewhere. The first thing Aether hears is Mountain's voice. "Oh, come on, droplet. You won't get in trouble. I won't let you."

Aether's heart sings when he hears Dew's voice, even though it's a little standoffish, nervous. Breathy in a way Aether's intimately familiar with. "He, shit, explicitly told me I wasn't fucking allowed to, Mount."

Mountain's laughter, warm and rumbling. "There's a way around it, droplet. You needed this, and he left me and Cirrus in charge. I'm taking care of my pack. I don't care what he told you."

Aether's tail bats against the mattress, a low growl building in his throat, a completely useless threat display for someone who's across an ocean at the very moment. He's not an idiot. He knows what had been happening while he slept. His mate, underneath another ghoul despite explicit instructions. Another ghoul butting his way between them. Even if it is just Mountain.

"Are you sure, Mount?" Dew's voice sounds small, nervous. The soft rustle of fingers through hair.

"I promise, droplet."

The camera pulls back as Mountain picks his phone up, struggling to focus until Mountain manually does it. Instantly, the anger roiling in Aether's gut quenches at the sight of his mate. He's beautiful, body on full display, little obsidian horns shining, copper hair splayed out on the pillow under his head. It glints in the yellow lamplight, molten metal.

There's a blush already on his cheeks, spilling down his sternum, staining creamy pale skin. Aether's eyes rake down Dew's body hungrily. He's seen Dew, mostly just like this, through a screen, but he's greedy for every glimpse he can get.

Mountain rumbles appreciatively, tinny through the speakers, as the camera pans down to the sharp lines of Dew's hipbones. He's already ruddy and leaky, his cock stiff and shiny. Dew's fingers curl into the bedding, blinking doe-eyed up at the camera.

"Mount," he breathes, narrow chest heaving.

"Lucifer, look at you," Mountain says. Aether can't see his expression, but he knows intimately what he looks like when he's hungry with lust. The earth ghoul's even fallen into bed with the two of them, multiple times. Aether feels himself pulse in his flannel pants. He ignores it for now. Knows he's got better coming soon.

The camera shifts, Mountain nudging Dew's skinny thighs open. Even through the screen, Aether can see the glint of slick between his legs. His mouth waters, sense memory reminding him exactly what it to press his tongue to that tight little hole. He feels the jealousy reignite in his ribcage, that Mountain can, if he wants, drink from the source, while he has to settle with memory.

"So wet, Dew," Mountain groans, sliding two fingertips from his taint down to his hole, sliding in to the third knuckle with no resistance. "Tell me who got you like this."

Dew's brow furrows, confusion dancing in those candlelight eyes. He whines as Mountain's fingers don't move, just still inside of his ass. "Mount-"

Mountain tsks, pulling his fingers out as Dew reaches up to him in protest. They shine in the lamplight. "No, I didn't get you like this. Who got you like this? I know you know who did. Tell him."

Slowly, through the haze of lust and nerves, realization burns into Dew's expression. His eyes glance up to the camera. "Aether," he moans, and a bolt of heat shoots straight to Aether's balls. "Aether got me like this, I'm wet for Aether, I'm wet for you."

Aether shoves his hand down the front of his pants, giving his bulge a squeeze to ease the sudden pressure. He can't tear his eyes away from his little mate.

He watches Dew yelp as Mountain gives him his fingers back, prepping him quickly but thoroughly. Through his earbuds, Aether can hear just how wet Dew is, stomach swooping at the obscenity.

Mountain pulls his fingers out, wiping his slick onto the scratchy hotel covers. Aether almost growls at the waste, but then Mountain's cock is in frame and Dew whines, eyes wide. "Mountain," he breathes, voice hitching as he glances down.

Aether considers himself well-endowed, in the humblest way a ghoul can be, thick and heavy. But Mountain blows him out of the water, long and veiny and difficult to take on the best of days. But he's seen at least most of the prep Dew's gotten, and his fingers tense around his phone at the idea of Dew taking him like this. Carved open and used.

"Tell me what you want," Mountain says, and Aether tears his eyes away from Dew for a moment to watch the earth ghoul stroke himself, spreading what's left of Dew's slick over himself.

"I want Aether to fuck me," Dew whines, hips nudging up. His little cock kicks against his hip, smearing globs of precum into the hollow of his hip. "I want my mate's cock. Aeth, I want you."

Mountain sighs endearingly, his other hand settling on Dew's hip. "I'm not Aether, firefly, but we can pretend for now, can't we?"

Aether curses, shoving his flannel pants and boxers down, his own cock springing up and smacking against his belly before he can get his hand on it. He hisses through his teeth as he squeezes the base, and he misses what Mountain says next. A bead of precum wells up in the slit.

He watches Mountain nudge the ruddy head of his cock against Dew's taint, sliding down to his hole. All three ghouls hold their breaths.

Dew and Mountain must be having a discussion with expressions, or thoughts, because Dew nods and less than a split second later, Mountain's pushing in. Dew's face melts in pleasure, candlelight eyes rolling back into his head, mouth falling lax and open.

Aether bites his lip hard, squeezing his cock hard so he doesn't spill over himself already. A quick check reveals there's still twenty minutes left of the video. He can't cum yet. He can't tear his eyes away.

Slowly, glacially slowly, Mountain presses in. Dew takes his bottom lip between his fangs, biting down hard to hold back a mewl as his body splits open around him. His hands curl into fists, white knuckling the comforter under him. Aether tentatively starts to stroke himself just as slow.

It feels like it takes forever, but eventually Mountain's hips kiss the backs of Dew's thighs, both of the ghouls groaning as he sheathes himself.

"Fuck, nova," Mountain rumbles. "He's so fucking wet and hot. Squeezing the fucking life out of me."

Aether growls, but Mountain keeps talking. The camera focuses on where their bodies meet, and Aether can see Mountain's thighs trembling with the effort of holding still. "Fuck," he grunts, jerking himself off a little faster, pulling the foreskin back from the head.

"You doing alright, droplet?" Mountain asks, petting up Dew's flank, trying to soothe him from the intense stretch.

Dew shakily nods, his narrow chest heaving. It makes his nipple piercings glint in the lamplight. Aether wants nothing more than to tweak them between his fingers. Or maybe suck on them. Taste Dew's skin and metal. "Just- just gimme a second. Please."

"Of course, Dewey," Mountain assures him. "You're being so good. Gonna take care of you. Gonna be a good packmate and make sure you're satisfied the way I know Aether does."

Aether rucks the hem of his shirt up. He doesn't want to risk staining it with cum. With the way Dew cries out, it's very much a possibility he's going to blow early in a way he hasn't since he was fresh Up Top.

He watches Dew breath shakily, eyes glancing from the camera, past it to Mountain, and back. He looks almost shy, innocent. Aether's reminded viscerally of the first time they'd slept together, the first time Dew'd had sex in his brand new vessel Up Top, laid out on his back in Aether's bed. His balls ache, but he wills himself not to cum. Mountain hasn't even started moving yet.

Dew rests a hand over his sternum, feeling his own fluttery pulse and breathing. It smooths down his chest, pausing for a moment to tweak and tug at his own nipples. The noises he makes are liquid arousal shot straight into his veins. "'M ready, Mount," he says, voice steady despite the way his chest heaves.

He can't see it, but Aether imagines the crooked smile Mountain gives him. "Alright, firefly. Remember, this isn't me."

Dew nods shakily, shuddering with a moan. "Right, it's Aeth."

"Put on a show for him, Dewey," Mountain says, pulling out and sliding back into Dew with a gut-punched groan.

Aether can't look away from him, the way his eyes roll back the same moment as his dick kicks hard against his hip. It's pink and ruddy and sticky-shiny already. He mewls, sharp and whiny, his entire posture melting with relief as Mountain starts to fuck him nice and slow and steady.

Dew's hand slides down past his chest, fingers skating over the coppery hair trailing down from his belly button. His fingertips rest just millimeters from the head of his dick, toying with the pool of pre. Aether tears his eyes away for a moment to watch Dew's lashes flutter at the stretch of the cock inside of him.

They widen suddenly as Mountain pushes in a little more forcefully, staring up at Mountain before locking onto the camera. Aether feels pinned like a particularly interesting moth.

"I- I- Mount, I can feel him," Dew breathes, his hand pressing down onto the flat plain of his belly, no doubtedly feeling Mountain's cock inside of his body. Mountain rewards him with another shove of his hips.

Aether curses as the two of them groan, tinny through his earbuds. A facsimile of the real thing, but Aether cannot afford to be a chooser right now. Besides, it's going straight to his dick anyways.

He strokes himself, feeling the roll of his piercings against his hand. There's lube in his nightstand, but he can't be assed. Aether just stops for a moment to spit in his palm, using that to ease the way.

Mountain picks up the pace, long fingers wrapped tight around Dew's hip. The camera stays steady as Dew wails, scrabbling at the covers. The force of his thrusts shoves Dew higher and higher up the bed. The cheap hotel bedding rustles as Mountain pulls Dew harshly back onto his cock, Dew's wail sharp and loud.

Aether has to fight to keep his eyes open, feeling his cock pulse against his palm as he jerks himself off. The image of his mate getting fucked within an inch of his life is sending him hurtling towards his own orgasm and he doesn't want to cum yet. But in the darkness behind his eyelids, Dew's cries, the slick sound of Mountain's cock spearing into him, the squeak of the cheap bedsprings all go straight to his balls.

"Droplet, what did he tell you that the rule was?" Mountain's voice, strained around the edges, cuts through it all. Aether watches Dew's eyes cloud with confusion, head tipped back and exposing the column of his throat.

Mountain doesn't stop fucking him, one hand bodily moving him up and down his cock. It takes Dew a solid minute to actually get the words out.

"He told me- fuck!- He told me I- shit- He told me I had to cum to the thought of him!" Dew cries out as Mountain slams into him. "I couldn't cum for anyone else! Had to be me getting off to him."

"And you're thinking of him right now, aren't you?" Mountain prompts. Dew's eyes roll back, hand still over the flat of his belly. His dick jumps, blurting out more pre. "What he's doing to you?"

Dew moans, sharp and airy, and Aether almost drops his phone. His own cock throbs. The mess of spit and pre is spilling over his knuckles as he squeezes a little tighter. Aether's callouses rub just right, a bite of friction.

"He's fuckin' me," Dew slurs, squeezing his eyes shut. "Aether's fuckin' me." Mountain's hand tightens around the meat of Dew's skinny thigh. Aether growls possessively at the thought of it bruising. Another ghoul's mark on his mate's body.

"No," Mountain chides softly, tone juxtaposed by the force that he fucks him with. "He's back at home. We're sending him a little treat for him to wake up to. To show him that you're following the rules."

Dew starts to moan again, but Mountain moves the camera down to where he disappears into Dew's body. It's slick and obscene, shiny in the light, and Aether strokes himself at the same brutal pace Mountain sets. He wants to close his eyes and imagine his fist is Dew's ass, that the sounds Mountain's drawing out of his mouth are because of him.

But closing his eyes means that he won't see Dew's hand wrap around himself, squeezing his little cock as his balls start to draw up to his body. So he keeps them open.

"That's it, firefly," Mountain groans, the camera starting to shake as they both lose themselves in chasing pleasure. "You're being so good for your mate."

Off screen, Dew yelps as a thrust drags along a sensitive spot inside of him. More precum spills down his ruddy shaft. It drips over his knuckles the same way Aether's is right now.

"You're going to cum, not because of me. You're going to make yourself cum," Mountain says, growling like a rockslide. "You're following his rules, he's so lucky he's got such a good, obedient mate."

Aether moans, nothing to muffle the noise. Not like he cares. He's watching Dew fall apart around Mountain's cock. Nothing else matters. He tries to ignore the burning jealousy in the pit of his chest. This is the best wake up call he's gotten in months.

"Fuck," Dew hisses, spindly fingers wrapped tight around himself. "Right fucking there, Lucifer, Mount!"

Mountain growls, low and dangerous. He freezes, drawing a pathetic whimper from the little fire ghoul under him.

The camera jolts up to Dew's face, teary and jaw lax with pleasure. "Mount-" he starts to whine, looking past the camera, but then Mountain's other hand comes up to grab him by the jaw. Dew's gaze is forced to the lens, and Aether nearly cums then and there at the dazed look in his eyes, only a thin copper ring remaining of his irises.

"What did I say, Dew?" Mountain rumbles. "Who are you getting off for?"

Aether watches enraptured as the gears turn in Dew's fucked out mind. "Aeth," he whines, eyes struggling to focus on the camera. "Aeth, please."

And if that doesn't make Aether's balls draw up, his mate begging for him. Saying please without it being dragged and forced out of him.

"Cum for your mate, Dewdrop," Mountain orders. "Look at him and make yourself cum for Aether."

The camera pulls back just in time to capture Dew's hand moving frantically over his cock before he cums all the way up to his pierced nipples. His candlelight eyes roll back with a whimpered cry, and that's all Aether needs to follow him.

Aether shouts as his orgasm hits him like a bus, release thick and hot where it shoots over his belly, dribbling over his knuckles as he works himself through it. His head swims.

Mountain pulls out, and Aether is too out of it to care if he came or not. When he watches this back after his shift, maybe he'll pay more attention, but he could not care less.

But the camera focuses on Dew's teary, blissed out face once more. "Tell him thank you, droplet. Show him."

Dew smiles, eyes half lidded. "Came for you, starshine," he slurs, trying to catch his breath as the aftershocks wrack through him. He holds up his hand, covered in spend, and starts to lick it up.

The video cuts off. Aether pants, his release cooling on his belly and his knuckles as he tries to catch his breath. His head spins. He plops his phone against his chest, letting his eyes shut for a moment.

"Infernal fucking Majesty," he curses the moment he has the breath to do so. He presses the little star on the hotbar at the bottom of the screen to save it to his favorites before he even thinks about getting up to clean himself up.

He gives himself three minutes to catch his breath before he gets up. The cum cooling on his belly is starting to cake in his thick happy trail, and it's beginning to get uncomfortable. He gets up with a groan, figuring he'll just shower it off before he has to go to work anyways. He's got an hour before he has to clock in still, he's got time.

When Aether finishes washing up, he heads back to his bed to snooze for just a little bit before he actually does have to get ready to work. His phone screen lights up with a notification and he rushes to grab it.

Sweet Thing <3: Rise and shine, nova

Sweet Thing <3: We're about to go to bed, but he'd like to talk to you if you're up and have the time

Aether scrambles for his earbuds again. He can't hit the video call button in Mountain's contact information fast enough. Mountain answers on the second ring, hands too big for his phone even in half-glamour.

He sees the same shitty hotel bedding, reflecting the yellow lamplight off of it. Some garish yet forgettable wallpaper, a cheap headboard. And there in the center of the screen, Dew and Mountain. They've cleaned up since whenever the video had been recorded, their hair damp and braided back. Aether recognizes the shirt Dew's swimming in as one of his own. They both look exhausted, Dew especially. He nuzzles into Mountain's chest, one orange eye peeking half lidded at the phone screen.

It widens when he sees Aether on the screen, a little bit of nerves and a lot of fondness in his expression.

Aether smiles, big and genuine. "Hi, baby," he coos, a little bit of the weight on his heart easing. "I hear you'd like to talk."

Dew nods, almost imperceptibly, and Mountain smiles, petting over the fire ghoul's back with a broad hand. "Did- you watched it." Dew says, voice almost small. It's such a difference from his usual little spitfire that Aether's head spins. He wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms.

"Yeah, darling, I saw. And thoroughly enjoyed," Aether laughs, though not unkindly. "Just got back from the bathroom. You made a mess of me. Thank you for cumming for me."

Dew smiles, that little mischievous spark that Aether loves dancing in his eye. "Sorry for breaking the rules, Aeth, I'm glad it made up for it."

Aether laughs, and he can hear Mountain's rumbling chuckle. It moves Dew bodily, and that smile falls from his face like water draining in the sink basin. "Aether? Mount?"

"I wasn't going to mention you breaking your rules about getting fucked by the others, my darling, this seems like it was our dear Mountain's idea," Aether coos, dark and almost dangerous. "But making up for it? We'll see about making up for it when you come home."

Dew shudders, eyes going wide. Aether cannot for the life of him hide the way the thought makes him grin.

"Get some sleep, baby boy. You two've got a long day tomorrow," Aether says, wicked grin fading into something genuine and fond. "I'll call on my break. I love you two."

"Love you too, nova," Mountain says, flashing a boyish smile as he pulls Dew closer to him. "Have a good day at work."

"Good night, Aeth," Dew whispers. "I love you too. Can't wait to get back."

"Neither can I. Sleep well, baby boy."

Aether hangs up, already thinking about what he'll do when Dew comes home.

[ceasarslegion]

Please tell me about the guy in your college dorm who got scurvy, I love a good modern day scurvy story. Like bro, have a delightful lemon-parm chicken

So in uni I lived in a co-ed dorm building where we had single-person rooms and shared a common room, washrooms/showers, laundry, and a kitchen. We also had a dining hall that we could purchase meal plans from (which i also had all 4 years, because i juggled full time school and 2 jobs at the same time. I did NOT have the time to cook for myself and I would not have done so in that kitchen to be frank). The building was split up into a bunch of different houses which we took personality quizzes to get assigned to in order to limit the amount of conflicts that would happen in this living situation. I was put in the smallest house (there were only 20 of us) and it was full of real chill like-minded people who liked to watch movies with me. This guy was the next door away from me, but wasn't my immediate next door neighbour because the stairwell broke up our house down the middle.

He was the house shut-in. He didn't really join any of the hang outs in the common room, or go out clubbing with us, he just kinda shut himself in his dorm room and never came out. Eventually we stopped slipping invitations to things under his door like we did with everyone else because there was no point. But I saw him in the dining hall and I saw him swiping a meal card a few times so I knew he was on the meal plan, meaning i KNEW he had access to fruit and veggies and even just like, juice. The food wasn't good but you had all the opportunities in the world to make it good FOR you, if that makes sense.

One of my jobs at this point was as an overnight security guard for an apartment building. I would come back around 4am and then crash out until 11 or 12 and then go to my afternoon and night classes. This is relevant because I was coming back into the building after a shift once in full uniform while he was sitting on the front steps and looking like he was hungover to the point of near-unconsciousness. I ask if he's feeling okay, if he needs anything, he waves me off and says he just needs some air. I'm like okay well, you know which doors mine if you change your mind bud.

He was an enigma who never spoke to us so I waved the situation off as too much college partying or something.

Over the next few days this becomes a common sight among everyone, who says they would also come back from their part time jobs or outings to him nearly passed out on a courtyard bench or something, a few people said they heard someone throwing up in our floor's shared bathroom.

About a week later I come back from my shift as usual and crash in bed until noon, expecting to wake up and go to my classes as usual. I grab my school bag and throw my regular coat and boots on and walk to class. I liked to sit in the back of that lecture hall because that prof had a rule that you were allowed to eat in his class as long as you sat in the last 3 rows, so I'd bring my breakfast and coffee in one of the dining hall to go boxes. I did not end up eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee.

In fact I did not make any notes on my laptop.

In fact, the house discord server blew up while I was asleep.

This guy, this fucking guy, had gone to our don (RA, basically) and told her he needed to go to the ER and then passed out on her couch. She doesn't have a car because none of us did, so everyone who was there and awake ended up dragging him to the closest hospital that was a few blocks away from campus on foot. Why they did not call an ambulance or at least an Uber is beyond me, but panic does weird things to people.

Reading through this in the corner of my eye before class starts, I have forgotten about class entirely. I have forgotten about my breakfast and my coffee. A few people were asking if they should ask for the don's master key and wake me up, thinking that i might have training in these things from what my job was (i did), and then others shut them down saying "no, let him sleep. He gets home at 4:30 in the morning" (WHY DIDNT YOU WAKE ME UP I WOULDNT HAVE CARED IF YOU SAID SOMEONE WAS HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY. I COULDVE AT LEAST KEPT YOU ALL CALM AND DELEGATED TASKS)

I send a message in just saying "guys I'm up now what is going on" with an @everyone attached.

Instantly get "several people are typing." That's never a good sign.

So this guy was in the ER for hours getting IV-fed. Because he had scurvy. And they had to vitamin C infuse him. Because he hadn't eaten a single fruit or vegetable or anything derived from a plant the entire school year. He got SCURVY. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2019.

Bro eat a fruit. EVER?? But he just didn't. He just never did. He had fucking scurvy. He passed out and had bleeding gums and his teeth almost fell out. Because he had scurvy.

He did not come back the next school year because his parents pulled him out of the dorms on the basis that he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself after that incident. And I do not blame them at all. Ma'am your kid can't be trusted to eat one (1) orange all year.

[malk1ns]

november 7 2024 @ hurricanes, 5-1 loss

not a lot to say about this game, sheesh. i WAS told that geno spent a lot of time during breaks in play yapping with kris, there was at least once instance where he was skating around ignoring the world and sid wouldn't stop staring at him, AND during warmups they were basically skating on top of each other in the corners by the net. but. not a lot to work with here, score some goals guys!!!!

so with the absolute bones they gave us to work with....we're taking a soulbond universe break and incorporating one of the asks i got when i requested quick-hit smut prompts last week. almost ALL of them were mustache-related, and there were two specific ones i want to revisit later, but for today....

Zhenya absolutely loathes playing in Carolina.

He hates playing the Hurricanes sort of as a general rule; every win against them for the last few seasons feels like more blind luck than an actual earned victory, and Jordy ran through his 2009 Stanley Cup goodwill years ago. But playing in Carolina, with their stupid slushy ice and the ice-cold visitor’s locker room and whatever the fuck a storm surge is, has to be near the top of Zhenya’s least favorite away-game experiences.

And add in the talent discrepancy in their two teams this year? Zhenya isn’t having a good time.

When the horn blares for another goal against, Zhenya winces and squeezes his stick. He knew what he was getting himself into; he and Sid had talked about it extensively over the summer, whenever Zhenya called to check in on how the slow grind of Sid’s extension was going. 

They weren’t going to be a good team this year. If they got into the playoffs, it would be by an unexpected run of luck and health, and there is not a single matchup in the league they’d be favored in even if they get that far. Sid and Zhenya’s job now, essentially, is to work with their young guys, help them develop and insulate them from the worst of the attentions of the opposing teams, and keep pushing for personal milestones.

Zhenya knows that. He’s accepted it, in theory. That doesn’t make blown leads and blowout losses any easier to bear in the moment.

“Hey,” Sid says, leaning toward him. Zhenya instinctively bends down, putting his ear close to Sid’s mouth as Sid holds his glove up just in case the cameras are on them.

Just in case. The cameras are always on them, especially since they’re playing on a line for now. At least that’s working out well, and Zhenya has someone next to him on the bench to nudge when someone fucks up spectacularly.

“Don’t look so crabby,” Sid continues, garbled through his mouthguard. “Keep a happy face for the rest of the game and I’ll make it worth your while tomorrow before the game.”

Zhenya stills, turning his head. Sid’s face is very close, and when he catches Zhenya’s eye he deliberately licks his lips. His mustache makes his jaw look sharp, and his eyes are intent on Zhenya’s face.

“Lunch with Tanger,” Zhenya says, watching Sid’s mouth as Sid draws away from him and drops his hand.

“Cancel,” Sid says casually, like it’s hardly even a consideration.

He’s right. Tanger bitches at Zhenya as they skate around during the next commercial break, but not seriously enough for Zhenya to actually feel bad. They both like the sushi place better for dinner anyway.

Sid and Zhenya go right to sleep when they get to the hotel in DC. As sanguine as they both are about the state of their team these days, a loss that bad is still deflating, and neither of them are even up for their usual debrief as they get ready for bed.

Sid does chivvy Zhenya into the shower, though. They both rinsed off after the game, but rink showers are always suspect, and the hot spray as Zhenya massages shampoo into Sid’s scalp is soothing.

Sid is thorough when he soaps Zhenya off, which makes him flush. Sid only winks at him, though, then busies himself with drying off and getting into his pajamas.

It takes a while for Zhenya to drift off, but eventually the visions of flubbed passes and blocked shots fade, and he falls into sleep to the sound of Sid’s gentle snores.

When he wakes up, it’s not to his alarm.

“C’mon,” Sid says, shoving at Zhenya’s side once Zhenya’s blinked himself to consciousness. “Get off me and get on your stomach.”

It takes Zhenya a second, but once the English penetrates and translates itself, he moves quickly, rolling off where he’d been practically plastering Sid into the mattress all night and spreading out, grabbing a pillow and turning his head to the side.

Sid’s stretched out next to him, eyes flickering over Zhenya’s body, and Zhenya preens, arching his back a little to draw Sid’s eyes down. He’d put in a lot of work over the summer to get his skating back to where he wanted it to be, and it shows in his back and ass, something Sid has been loudly appreciative of since they came back for camp.

“You want it bad,” Sid mutters, and Zhenya would roll his eyes at Sid’s lame dirty talk, but he does want it, so instead he just spreads his legs and shifts, rubbing his hardening dick against the soft sheets.

“Sid,” he says impatiently, and that gets Sid moving down the mattress, settling himself between Zhenya’s legs.

His grip on Zhenya’s ass is firm, and Zhenya clenches, feeling Sid’s fingers dig into his muscles in response. 

The first scrape of Sid’s facial hair against Zhenya’s hole gets him gasping into his pillow.

Zhenya can’t grow facial hair, not really. He dutifully went along with the stupid playoff beard tradition during the back-to-backs, but otherwise any stubble he ends up with is incidental, borne of laziness and skin too sensitive to shave clean on any given day. He doesn’t grow it well anyway, so there’s never been much of a point.

Sid used to not grow very good facial hair either. Zhenya’s life was perhaps more peaceful back then.

The thing with the mustache is it hurts. Sid’s facial hair is bristly and coarse, and it rubs Zhenya raw when they kiss. He’d had a rash all over his groin after they won the cup in 2009 and Sid blew him back behind Mario’s pool house during the party; Flower noticed the next day and brought it up to make fun of them for years. It’s uncomfortable to deal with in gear, even with the ointments and lotions they keep trying, and it stings under the hot water.

Zhenya loves it, though.

Sid’s tongue on his hole is warm and wet and good, but it’s the scratch of his mustache around Zhenya’s rim that makes him cry out and squirm. Sid’s good with his mouth, just as good as all the fans in Philly used to jeer at him and then some, and Zhenya loves when Sid eats him out any day of the year, but in November the added sensation makes him come so fast it would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

And because Sid is a possessive freak, he likes how Zhenya winces after, the way he shifts in discomfort on the bench and walks funny to avoid friction. He likes marking Zhenya up, likes knowing that Zhenya can still feel him days later.

With the way he’s gripping Zhenya’s ass to hold him open, Zhenya won’t be surprised if he has bruises to go along with the beard burn.

Sid leans back and spits on Zhenya’s hole, loud and wet and filthy in the morning quiet of the room, and Zhenya flinches, hides his face and groans as his dick twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the bed.

“Messy,” Sid says approvingly before he gets his face back into Zhenya’s ass. He pulls on Zhenya’s hips, and Zhenya obligingly cants them back, tensing his thighs to lift his lower back and give Sid the angle he’s looking for.

The burn in his muscles, the scrape of Sid’s mustache, Sid’s tongue in his ass, all of it is sensory overload, and Zhenya barely has to sneak a hand down under himself and squeeze the head of his dick before he’s coming, shoving his ass back into Sid’s face and riding his tongue through his orgasm.

He whines when Sid pulls away, tries to turn onto his back to get at Sid’s dick, but Sid smacks his ass once, so Zhenya stays put, keeps his back arched, and listens as Sid jerks himself off.

“I’m gonna…” Sid trails off, and Zhenya startles when Sid presses down on his back, pushing him flat to the mattress. “Squeeze, baby,” he says, one hand between Zhenya’s shoulder blades as he pushes his dick between Zhenya’s cheeks with the other. “I want it tight.”

Zhenya complies, clenching as Sid thrusts, breath hitching whenever the head of Sid’s dick catches against his rim. Even with all of Sid’s spit it’s a shade too dry, and the friction against his sensitive skin is bordering on unpleasant, but it makes something in Zhenya’s stomach squirm with desire.

When Sid comes, he presses the head of his dick just barely into Zhenya’s hole, grunting as he just-barely thrusts, enough to stretch but not actually penetrate. Zhenya wishes he would, wishes Sid would force his way into Zhenya’s body and come inside him, but it’s a game day, so he holds still instead of humping back onto Sid’s dick.

“Fuuuuck,” Sid groans finally, pulling back and spreading Zhenya’s cheeks wide. Zhenya turns his face into the pillow, sure that his entire back must be flushing red as Sid inspects his work. “Pretty,” he says approvingly, thumbing over where his come is dripping from Zhenya’s hole. “You’re gonna be hurtin’ later, bud.”

Zhenya sighs explosively into his pillow, reaching back and smacking at Sid’s thigh. “Get lotion,” he orders, and Sid laughs at him, clambering off the mattress.

He’s humming smugly to himself as he pokes through their toiletries. Zhenya would roll his eyes, but, well.

Sid’s touch is gentle now, rubbing the cooling ointment over Zhenya’s hole and everywhere his mustache rubbed Zhenya raw. Zhenya drifts a little under Sid’s ministrations, and he’s practically asleep again when Sid drops a kiss on the nape of his neck and curls up next to him.

“Alarm?” Zhenya mutters as Sid slings an arm and a leg over him.

“We’ve got forty-five minutes.” Sid says, voice already sliding to drowsiness. “Go back to sleep. We gotta play better tonight.”

Zhenya’s going to be sore later, but he’s never let that stop him from playing better when Sid asks him to. He’s got a good feeling about tonight’s game.

[kquil]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLE! @ellecdc

i hope you have the best birthday. you're such a dear friend and a wonderful person, and you deserve to be celebrated to the fullest! thank you for being born and for being my friend! thank you for being the person that you are, i and many others, i'm sure, adore you and wouldn't have you any other way ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡

this is how i think the marauders would celebrate your birthday with you (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

my headcanon is that Sirius' love language is gift-giving so, of course, he's taking you on a shopping spree

everything is on him

he will buy everything you touch and look at so be careful

he loves spoiling you and says it's his 'thanks' for putting up with him but we know what's really going on  (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)  

this also gives him the perfect excuse to have you all to himself for, at least, an hour -- 'cheeky bastard' is what James calls him for this

naturally, the shopping spree/spoil session for Sirius ends soon enough but he still tries to steal you away from Remus and James while they're distracted

but James doesn't let that slide and easily catches up to steal you back

Remus has his struggles with money but that only means he's an excellent gift-giver

he's paid special attention to your interests and gives you the best, most personal gift for your birthday

so happy with your gift, you give him a big kiss on the cheek, enough for your lipstick to transfer

Remus can't stop grinning and has to hide his smirk behind his hand

it's because James and Sirius are immature and can't stop pouting at you for giving him a kiss and not them too...

'you just have to up your gift-giving game, like Remus, and you'll earn yourself a kiss' -- is what you tell them and makes them pout even more which makes you laugh

they started that morning by showing up at your doorstep, loudly singing Happy Birthday with balloons, party hats and confetti ready to shower over you

they deliberately sing off-key and grin ear to ear at your embarrassed self, still in your pyjamas when you open the door only to shake your head at them and try to hide your grin

you're embarrassed but can't walk away, they're too loveable to walk away from

when it's all over, one by one, they open their arms for a hug to which you awkwardly try to give them a side hug but they weren't having any of it

they pull you close and force you to hug them properly

Sirius: We deserve a proper hug, princess *kisses your nose*

Remus: We've earned a nice long hug and that's what we're getting *nuzzles and kisses the top of your head*

James: *completely ignores your attempt to not hug him properly* Happy birthday, pretty girl *kisses your temple*

they present you with a beach-themed, heart-shaped birthday cake and, while Remus gets the candles and Sirius prepares his lighter, James explains how they wanted to bake the cake themselves but ultimately decided that that wasn't the best idea

'thank god you decided not to, i like my birthday cakes edible,' you say and giggle when Sirius lets out a dramatic gasp of betrayal

Remus rolls his eyes and James just gets pouty -- but it's all in good fun

Sirius: Σ(°△° ꪱꪱꪱ)

Remus: (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

James: (ಡ᎔ಡ)

Ending the day, the boys set up a bonfire at a place where there's a really good view and the boys make sure to take care of everything

But you won't sit still and keep trying to help them

They want to make sure you don't have to lift a single finger so James sits down and pulls you into his lap

he's never letting you go, not until Remus and Sirius have everything set up

you get fussy and make the excuse that you’re heavy

Sirius: *from a distance* LIES!

James: Heavy? what do you mean? *easily lifts you princess-style from his lap before setting you down and trapping you again*

Remus: *also from a distance* YEAH! YOU SHOW HER PRONGS!

you get embarrassed but then make the excuse of being sweaty and stinky from the trek up but James is unphased -- he's been in a men's locker room, he knows what real stink smells like

James smooshes his face into your neck and inhales deeply and exaggeratedly before giving the verdict -- 'you smell just fine to me, love. in fact, you smell divine~'

he wiggles his brows at you and you huff in defeat before wrapping your arms around him with a pout, James just laughs and the two of you appreciate the gorgeous view together

earlier, because Sirius and Remus prepare the bonfire, James insisted that he has to be the one to give your bouquet

the guys get a good barbeque cooking before roasting marshmallows and making smores

Remus is the first to start feeding you small bites before Sirius begins doing it too and so does James

by the end, when you're all full of good food and laughs, James sneaks off and returns with a stunning bouquet for you

James presents your bouquet on one knee just to be dramatic and get you flustered again

Remus does a toast dedicated to you and everyone claps with Sirius hooting in your honour

are you guys together or just really good friends? i'll leave that to you, darling (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

this is brought to you by one of my dearest and longest friends on here @somewereinthegalaxi or @thebestofoneshots Lilly has spoiled me so much with her love and generosity for my past birthdays, i'm taking a page out of her book now and spreading that same joy and love myself, she's an angel -- FROM NOW ON MY MOOTS ARE NOT SAFE FROM ME SPOILING THEM THE WAY I'VE BEEN SPOILED! (at least, the moots that i know the birthdays of (ಥ‿ಥ))

i have this scheduled to post at 00:00 on 10th November GMT time so I hope it gets to you okay and that you enjoy it! also, thank you for answering my questions (⁎⁍̴̛ ₃ ⁍̴̛⁎) -- you really helped me with completing my harmless side project hehe~