#I’m so fucking scared. of failing. of never figuring myself out. of ending up as a worthless good for nothing

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 10

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

check out part 11 here ✨🆕

W.c: 3.4K+

not proofread ⚠️

a/n : Hi everyone, I'm back with another part yaaay, I hope you enjoy it. I need a good cry so I wrote this, where are my Angst enthusiasts at? this part is for you, but no worries I'll make it up for you I promise 😭🩵.

Music Suggestion 🎧 I highly recommend The Neighborhood - Softcore to match the sadness 🥲

You gradually regained your consciousness; you felt a dull throb in your head. You blinked slowly, struggling to focus, your surroundings initially a blur of shapes and colors that gradually sharpened into clarity.

You tried to move, to rub your temples but your heart beats quickened when you realized you were bound to a chair, your limbs securely tied with coarse ropes. Panic surged through your veins, your eyes widening as you struggled against your restrains, each tug to break free was met with resistance. Ropes tightly wrapped around your wrists and legs, a burning sensation, only serving to deepen your sense of helplessness.

“Fuck, fuck” you muttered.

Breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in wild rhythm. You scanned the dimly lit room, searching for any sign of escape. But there was none, and you found yourself trapped in a nightmare worse than your reality.

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the silence, coming from behind. A tone that sent shivers down your spine,

“No need to struggle princess”

The words dripped with menace. You were too scared to look behind not knowing what to face. You bit your lips that were quivering. From the shadow, he emerged. With hesitation you looked up to see the tall figure that concealed the dim light from you. His muscles taut beneath his shirt, a sly, dirty smirk tugged at the corners of his scarred lips. His dark black hair fell on his face gracefully, looking directly at your soul with his narrowed eyes. for a split second, you thought it was a more aggressive version of Megumi.

His presence, the way he stood in front of you, looking down at you sent a chill to your whole nervous system, making your breath hitch up.

“W-who are you? What am I doing here?”

He reached to grab your chin with his long fingers, forcing your head up to look at him.

“Shh-hh, don’t ask questions! Lemme introduce myself first” he paused, bringing another chair and sat right in front of you. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me…they probably warned you, I’m-”

“You’re Toji Zenin?!” you interrupted him

With a mocking tone, he leaned forward and said,

“I go by Fushiguro now! So don’t say Zenin ever again…so? Did you sleep well”

You stayed frozen in place, each inhale felt like shards of glass scraping down your throat. Consumed by fear, realizing that the man who’s been searching for you all around Tokyo, just to take your life away finally found you and was comfortably sitting in front of you. Your world narrowed, maybe it’s the end.

*flash back*

With a heavy weight in your heart, you left Jujutsu High in the dread of the night. Spending the night stargazing in the balcony wasn’t enough; you wanted to get completely detached so you left for some fresh air away, far away from Gojo.  The echo of what Gojo said to you still ringing in your ears. “you failed your family and now you’re failing everyone else in Jujutsu High” those words never left your mind.

“He’s right..I even failed myself” you muttered to yourself.

You walked through the streets, each step was a painful reminder that you’ve got nowhere to go, completely lost, nowhere and no one to turn to, feeling that you don’t belong anywhere. The darkness of the night enveloped you like a cloak. Your feet carried you to an unexpected place, standing in front of the big wooden door, you didn’t dare to knock, you just stood there in front of your parent’s house, memories flooding your mind. Maybe your parents were right for keeping you locked inside. Maybe someone like you was never meant to leave the safety of their house, maybe your parents knew that you would get hurt. But your family, who spent their life keeping you in the darkness of your room pushed you to marry a stranger, a man you never knew, never met; Gojo Satoru, just because of his good reputation, because he’s the strongest, maybe your parents thought he would keep you safe and will protect you, but he ended up slit opening a deep wound within you, once again awakening your trauma that you worked hard to learn how to live with.

“I was only a burden to everyone” you said to yourself,

You heard giggles so you stepped closer, peeking through the window. Your heart sank as you saw your family again, after so long. You didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad at their sight. Your parents and siblings, gathered together in the warm glow of the light. Carefree and content, laugher filling the air, a bittersweet melody to your ears. Their faces illuminated by smiles as they talked together.

You stood there, a silent observer on the outside looking in. A tear rolled down your cheek , a broken smile drawn on your face,

“They look happy without me”

You felt a sting in your chest,  loneliness washing over you again and again, it actually never left, loneliness was the only companion you had. It was as if you were peering into a world you had once knew, yet now felt completely disconnected.

History repeating itself, once again your family managed to make you feel like an outsider, a complete stranger. You felt as if you were a completely forgotten fragment of their life, a faded memory lost in the depth of time, as if you never been a part of their past.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned away from the window, unable to bear the ache of being invisible to them your whole life. As you turned, you were met with a pair of glowing eyes looking directly at you, a tall masked figure that made you gasp , but before you could react, you got hit on your head with a metal bar…falling unconscious.

*End of flashback*

“Was that your parents house?” asked Toji

But you completely ignored his question, looking away from his intense gaze,

“What do you want from me?”

“Kill you, obviously… now answer my question..Was that your parents’ house?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“As you can see, I feed on other’s suffering .. so it would be nice to learn more about your miserable past”

You frowned your brows in confusion,

“I had a normal, not miserable past" you lied, keeping your traumas to yourself,

“Oh hoho, let me guess, abused? Discriminated? No no ignored? That’s the right word… no one ever recognized you right? No one made you feel welcomed cuz you were different and people are scared of things that are different” he started

How did he know that? How did he know about your past? How could he describe what you've felt so accurately?

“N-no!” you lied again

“Come on don’t lie to me.. I know very well the face of someone who’s been discriminated their entire life for being  different”

“Have you met someone like that to judge so confidently?”

“No, but I look in the mirror everyday”

You looked at him in disbelief, you didn’t dare to say a word. Whatever he was trying to do, was successfully making you feel uncomfortable. Is he trying to torture you before taking your last breath away? But you already gave up, there’s no way you can escape this place, tied hands and legs, him sitting right across you., and probably no one would look for you.

“If you’re gonna kill me then do it already, and spare me from talking about the past”

“Woah, so you give up already? Who pushed you to your limits to the point that you greet death as an old friend?” he asked

“No one, just do it. This is what you captured me for.. SO DO IT” you yelled.

“Hm, interesting! I think I know where all of this is coming from..Gojo Satoru? Did your husband add to your trauma?”

“enough” you whispered weakly

“What? It must be hard to live with him; especially that he’s the strongest. Lemme guess! He made you feel weak at any given chance, reminding you again and again that you’re nothing” he said offensively pushing you to your edge.

“St-op”

“That’s what sorcerers do, they claim they protect the normal, oh I’m sorry the monkeys like us, but in reality they use their power to belittle us…and you’ll soon be like them, soon you’ll turn into your real form; a sorcerer with an immaculate power but ugly usage..and this is my chance to spare the world of the normal from your ugliness”

“What are you talking about? I’m no turning into a sorcerer-”

“What?”

“It’s been weeks and nothing happened, that prophecy they talked about was nothing but a big lie”

“But your curse-”

“Fate is my only curse” you said, your eyes blankly staring at him, completely worn out.

*Back at Jujutsu High*

Satoru’s eyes blazed with fury as he walked towards Mei Mei and grabbed her by the arm, his grip tight and violent. He yanked her aside aggressively,

“You! You’re the reason she’s gone” he spat with anger.

Mei Mei’s face etched with annoyance, narrowing her eyes at him,

“Don’t you dare blame me for this! It’s  your fault Gojo not mine” she fought back.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you? Leading me to your room cuz you know Y/n will be there, you’re trying your best to have me, but you can’t and you never will” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You started this in the first place. You asked for my help to push Y/n away, and when I succeeded in giving you what you wanted, you started blaming me? Is this your way to say thank you?”

“I already told you to stop, I said that I no longer in need of your help that you got paid for, but you kept pushing, you wanted more than pushing Y/n away, you wanted me to be yours, but too bad for you, I don’t want you Mei Mei _ and if something happens to y/n I’ll end you! Do you understand ?” he threatened and turned his back to leave.

“Do you love her?” asked Mei Mei making Gojo stop in his track. “There’s only explanation for this, you fell for her Gojo: you fell for Y/n!”

A moment of silence washed over the place, making a hundred of thoughts flow in Gojo’s head. But he ignored her; he doesn’t have time to think about his feelings, when the one he has feelings for is missing because of him. So he started walking away to join the others and start their mission to find you.

…..

“We’ll split into three groups and cover as much ground as possible” suggested Gojo and all of them nodded in agreement.

“Megumi and Maki come with me” he added

“I’ll take Yuji-kun  and Panda” said Nanami

“Inumaki and Nobara you’ll go with principal Yaga” ordered Satoru

“What about Mei Mei, where is she? Isn’t she coming with us to look for Y/n-sensei?” asked Maki with suspicion, she never liked her anyway.

“I’ll go with you” said Mei Mei as she joined them in the common room, “Let’s find y/n”

Satoru ignored her presence and left the room, the rest of them walked outside. Spreading across Tokyo streets, searching everywhere for a glimpse of you. Ready for any possible encounter with Toji Zenin.

Satoru walked with powerful step, determined to find Toji’s hideout and save you from his deadly grasp.

“We’ll find her..don’t worry Y/n is strong, she can definitely handle it” said Megumi in a comforting tone, after noticing how stressed Satoru was.

“I know… she’s strong” he finally admitted.

Hours stretched on into the night, Gojo and the other sorcerers students and teachers combed through each and every corner of the city.. every alleyway, every secluded spot that Toji could possibly use desperate to find her, but for nothing.

Despite their exhaustive efforts, the outcome remained unchanged; you’re nowhere to be found.

With heavy hearts and weary bodies they got back to Jujutsu High as principal Yaga called off the search.

*2 days later*

“The higher ups called for an urgent meeting” said Principal Yaga

“We’ll join the meeting!” said Yuji

“No it’s only for the teachers”

“NO! we care for Y/n-sensei, and maybe more than all of you! If this is about Y/n-sensei then we’re joining” said Yuji with a sad tone

With a sigh, principal Yaga nodded, guiding all of them to the meeting room.

*At the meeting room*

Tension hung in the air, faces drawn and expressions grim as they waited for one of the higher ups to speak,

“Any clue? Any hint? Any progress?” asked one of them.

All of them shook their heads in defeat, their silence spoke volumes, conveying their helplessness and the frustration of their failure.

“We expected nothing less from Toji Zenin, it’s already crystal clear-” he added coldly, his words cutting through the silence once again.

“We won’t give up! We’ll go back tomorrow and this time we bring her home and bring Toji to his trial again” said Gojo in fraustartion, his words dripping with venom.

“You’ve been looking for two days but for vain, there’s no point in wasting any more time and effort, once she’s captured by Toji we knew she’s already gone, she’s already dead” said one of the higher ups.

“SHE’S NOT DEAD” yelled Satoru slamming his fist on the wooden table,

all heads turned at his direction at his sudden rage.

“I know it’s hard to swallow, but it’s your fault for letting her wander outside without keeping an eye on her, it’s your fa-”

“YOU THINK IM NOT AWARE OF IT? YES YOU’RE RIGHT IT’S MY FUCKING FAULT FOR LETTING HER GO, IT’S MY FAULT FOR PUSHING HER AWAY FROM ME, IT’S MY DAMN FAULT MY HURTING HER SO MUCH TO THE POINT THAT SHE FAVORED FACING DANGER OUTSIDE THEN STAYING BESIDE ME…stop blaming me because I know, I messed up, I fucked up and I admit it…but you can’t ask me to give up on my wife-” said Gojo his voice cracking.

Without further words, he left the room. Nanami followed him trying to help him,

“Gojo stop…hey stop” said Nanami “Where are you going?”

“To find her”

“Gojo you know you won’t find her…” said Nanami apologetically

“You once told me to treat her as a real wife, so here I am doing , let me for once care for her like a real wife”

“Gojo don’t do this to yourself, I know you still have hope, we all do but the higher ups won’t allow it”

“Well fuck them the higher ups..I won’t rest till I bring my wife home”

“Alright I’ll come with you”

*At Toji Zenin’s hideout*

“Wakey wakey…” said Toji splashing cold water on your head

You gasped for air, completely startled, completely drenched

“W-what the hell!!” you exclaimed

“Someone wants to meet you”

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you glanced towards the door in anticipation. Who could possibly come to meet you? Is there someone else in the dirty game that Toji is playing?

Your heart skipped a beat as the door creaked open, revealing a familiar silhouette that slowly emerged from the shadow to the light.

“M-Mei Mei?” you said in shock

Your mind raced trying to make sense of the whole situation, your eyes didn’t leave hers as she looked down at you. But the smirk on Mei Mei’s face offered no answer,

“I hope you had fun these two days here with Toji”  

“W-what?” your voice almost inaudible.

“Did you think I’d let you win huh? Poor Y/n!”

“You!- you did all of this? What’s your problem with me huh?” you asked your voice trembling with anger.

“The thing is, you are the problem Y/n! I won’t let you have Gojo, I won’t let you turn into a sorcerer and become the strongest..I won’t let that prophecy come true”

“You’re insane!” you shook your head in disbelief

“Well call it whatever you like, but I won’t let you steal my dreams away”

“So you think that stealing my life away is the right thing to do?”

“YES YES” she leaned forward “I can’t bear to see Gojo look at you with much love in his eyes, I can’t bear to see him giving his heart to you-”

“What are you blabbering about? You know well what kind of relationship I have with Gojo, I already know that both of you have an affair”

Suddenly she started laughing hysterically,

“That’s what I wanted but that dick didn’t want me and never did, since you’re going to die so yeah lemme tell you truth, I got paid to do what I’ve done, he never touched me…it was all lie, all of them, I made that up to push you out of the frame, he wanted that at first but then he started to push ME out of the frame, maybe he’s got a liking into you, a liking that I didn’t like, when I noticed the way his heart started to beat for you, when a spark was born I had to intervene, I couldn’t help but release Toji out of prison, pay him a big amount of money  to abduct you and kill you”

“I’ve never thought you’ll get to this level of low” you spat

“Now you’re out of the frame, I succeeded, you’ll die.. Toji will kill you and I’ll work on making Gojo forget about you, I’ll comfort him when he mourns your death, I’ll be the shoulder he cries on and that’s how I’ll win his heart…to the higher ups you’re already considered dead and shortly you’ll truly be” she said happily, playing with her hair

Disbelief washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you disoriented. You struggled to voice your thoughts, lost in the overwhelming emotions so you started screaming at her,

“I’LL KILL YOU MEI MEI, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU”

You struggled to break free from the ties that restricted your movement to a minimum, completely going crazy, you hair falling on your face. With each tug and desperate lurch you felt your anger growing more and more, your heart hammering against your chest, redoubling your efforts, till you crashed on the ground, the chair toppled over with a resounding thud, hitting your head on the hard concrete. You laid there, disoriented and dazed, pain pulsed through your skull, world spinning around you. If you managed to break free you’ll make Mei Mei vanish from existence.

You saw in slow mo how Mei Mei was walking towards the door leaving the room, Toji crouched down, brushing strands of hair off your face, placing it behind your ear,

“It’s okay, it won’t be painful…but before I kill you, I’ll do terrible thing to you that will make you beg me to kill you”

You were too weak to answer him, you can feel yourself fading into the background, into the nothingness…losing touch  with what’s real. As you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the silence. His face emerged, Gojo’s features etched in your mind with crystalline clarity. Amidst the chaos, the threat, you were somehow happy and relieved that he did not cheat on you, that hadn’t touched Mei Mei  and that all what she said before was a lie to offend you that’s all. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, with each passing moment, your thoughts dived deeper and deeper in the memories shared between both of you, the closeness of your faces when both of you bickered, the way he was sleeping  next you but disturbed by his night terrors, you wished that you be there for him, comfort him and put him back to sleep in your arms, maybe you’ll be his dream and replace that ugly nightmare that haunts him every night. Maybe you can try again and be a real husband and wife.

You realized in that moment that you needed him, that you have already fell for him but that feeling needed something to be noticed, and this something is being far away from him. But is there a way back? A tear run on your cheek, a weak smile drawn on your tired face, fate is indeed your curse.

“It’s too late…I’m already gone”

With that you closed your eyes, drifting to sleep, your dream filled with visions of Gojo is your only companion.  

….

“Are you sure about this Maki?” asked Nobara

“I don’t know, but she’s been acting really suspicious, maybe we can find something?”

“You sure we won’t get caught?”

“No…but I’ll do it, if you’re not sure about this you can go I’ll handle it alone!”

“No I’ll be here, I’ll guard the place”

Both of them walked through the dark corridor like ghosts, gently turning the door knob, sneaking into Mei Mei’s room.

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[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 10

i can't abandon them.

we don't sacrifice one life for the greater good if we don't have to.

you’re obviously hiding something from me, and it’s making me feel crazy.

i was sober enough to know better.

i’m sorry if i was shitty earlier today.

whenever i’m happy, everyone sounds the alarm.

the more people i cut out, the quieter my life got.

i love you, but i don’t have time for this.

i’ve never felt this helpless in my life.

you asked me before if i was happy, and i realized, i’m not. i’m not happy.

we both know if you’re shopping for an affair, i’m the first call you’d make.

you two are a powder keg ready to explode. 

i guess i’m scared that i don’t have what it takes to not fuck this up. 

you could do this without me.

it’s about winning. and i do. a lot.

when i’m with you, i want a future.

are you asking me to choose between you and my family?

i believe in solving problems. not whining about them.

what’s more important? your dreams or your pride? you only get one.

you don’t suck as much as most people.

your purpose is to live for you.

okay, that move? putting up walls? that used to be my move.

i think you’re just addicted to the drama of being miserable.

spoiler alert. life is meaningless.

wow, we really are bad people to date.

if you let me save your life, you’d be saving mine.

i’m an expert on self punishment.

it is me. i am standing with you. just please let me in.

just leave me alone with my humiliation.

“i’ll be happy when we can be together,” that’s what i always told myself. but what if we can’t be?

what if all we have is now?

you know more than anyone that the game isn’t over until it’s over.

you’re not the worst thing you’ve ever done.

i wouldn’t even want to do it without you. you make me better at this.

you love taking care of people.

i was worried. i came to check in on you. is that allowed?

don’t you dare ignore me. i have feelings!

if you’re always a disappointment, then it’s impossible to disappoint. 

what if i just, like, completely melt? what if i just fuck up and fail?

do i have time to go outside and scream “fuck”?

i can take what comes next.

contrary to popular belief, you’re not a total waste of space.

you have a future. don’t throw it away.  

every single cell in your body wants to blow things up and see what happens, that's what you are.

chivalry may be dead, but i didn’t kill it.

nothing is final. not even death.

that’s your family portrait, and you’re not in it.

life will crush your dreams and destroy your spirit.

why do i always let my heart get in the way of my happiness?

blowing up relationships seemed easier than having to lose people over and over again.

i had a dream. i was by your side, and it felt like we were changing the world.

i have to know what something is to believe in it.

there’s no one i’d rather walk through the fire with than you.

you think it’s the end? or the beginning? 

praying helps with some things. others, you have to take into your own hands.

i need us to be “us” again.

don’t think about what could go wrong. think about what could go right.

i’m just seeing things differently now.

i’ve done a terrible job of loving you when you’re in trouble.

you deserve the room to screw up.

i spent so much time trying not to be who i was, i don’t even know who i am.

you’re not okay. you’re stubborn.

i should have known better. i should have been better.

this place, it’s not you. it’s who you had to be to get to what’s next.

risking your life comes easy to your crazy ass.

i guess i’m just your fantasy.

you look like hell spit you out.

careful. i’ve had enough people coming for me today.

you look like shit.

sometimes we gotta let the people we love figure out their problems their own way.

it doesn’t make you any stronger going through this alone.

just be patient with me.

you’re something else. when you believe in something, nothing’s gonna change your mind.

don’t let love make you out to be a fool. leave before you’re left.

nostalgia’s got me in its vice.

what’s left of your soul will melt your poisonous heart.

i came to save your life. i wasn’t about to let you die a hero.

i’m barely living.

yeah. our timing is shit.

do you want chaos?

i’m sorry you’re afraid of being alone.

why should i trust you today, when things are shit, if i couldn’t trust you yesterday?

your now is not your forever.

[yellowloid]

you knew this was coming. buckle up because this is going to be long and boy oh boy do i have things to say. i actually have so many things to say i don’t even know where to start. jesus.

this fandom’s ability to take drama and turn it into discourse that makes absolutely zero sense and involves people that have nothing to do with the original drama never fails to amaze me. the fact that people here are now taking the whole louise drama from a couple of days ago and dragging miles into it by overthinking their way through possible (see: made up) scenarios about people we know absolutely nothing about is astounding. people blaming her for defending herself against haters and saying she’s basically spoiling the end of the tour for us and the band, people being scared that the recent drama will influence miles and alex’s interactions in ireland (which – again – doesn’t make any sense considering their friendship has nothing to do with random people hating on louise on ig and her responding to that hate), which feels exactly like people making up conspiracies about the whole paparazzi drama back in august when i had to read with my own two eyes of people being scared that she staged the whole thing just to “boycott” or steal away the attention from the release of one man band, since it was only a matter of days before it’d come out. which is absolutely insane. (edit: i BET some people will drag miles into the new paparazzi thing. i just know it. mark my words someone’s going to do it)

now don’t get me wrong, you are absolutely entitled to your opinion on louise as a person and as alex’s girlfriend. i don’t really like her myself. she’s a human being and some kind of “celebrity” or rather public figure, so it’s only normal people either like or dislike her. that’s okay. but going from innocuously disliking her to actively villainizing her for everything she does, claiming she’s basically the worst of all girlfriends and basically saying her existence and involvement with alex is ruining everything about the band itself (to the point that you wish they’d do something as drastic as disbanding), alex’s relationship with miles and/or your experience as an am/alex fan is just… odd. it reeks of misogyny. and mind you, i’m absolutely not saying she’s faultless, because she very much isn’t; i can’t stand the way amtwt goes about idolizing her, putting her on a pedestal and acting like she’s an angel (very much like amanda and matt do on a daily basis), because no one is. she did some problematic stuff in the past, not to mention the start of her relationship with alex was ambiguous as fuck, their whole relationship is a big, frustrating question mark and yes, maybe she could handle the hate in a different way than the one she usually goes for. but that doesn’t mean she’s the fucking devil. it doesn’t mean she’s an absolute evil mastermind who brainwashed alex and everyone else in his social circle while also trying to boycott miles and milex in her free time simply by existing in alex’s orbit.

first of all, if we really want to compare her to other girlfriends, let’s at least get the facts right. she’s far from being the first girlfriend who responds to “trolls” or however you want to call them. back when she was with alex, taylor was out there calling people cunts, telling them they didn’t have a life because they spent their time on the internet running fanpages about her boyfriend’s band. she called fans delusional, went off at milex shippers; she called herself ari*n, basically said reverse racism was a thing, and refused to acknowledge she was in the wrong when confronted about it, instead calling people ignorant and basically just going on block sprees. now of course louise has done some shitty stuff too – the rape/racism jokes were disgusting and she also goes around blocking people, but the biggest insult she’s thrown at people is “ignorant” or something along the lines of “get a life”. she hasn’t really beefed with fans to the extent that taylor did – this woman literally called her boyfriend’s fans cunts without a social life because they had fanpages about him and probably left some kind of hate comments on her because they didn’t like her, and she very comfortably forgot that the very people who ran those fanpages were the ones paying for her boyfriend’s bills and her luxurious LA lifestyle. far be it from me to defend louise – because she’s just living that same life in a different font – but if you think she’s toxic, horrible, bitchy, you name it, then i’m sorry to break it to you but you wouldn’t have survived taylor fucking bagley.

with the recent drama, she defended herself much better than taylor would’ve ever done, because she’s not as aggressive. she addressed it and said something that some people aren’t ready to accept – that she’s a human being that has every right to be with him, like all the other girlfriends did. and whether we like it or not, that’s true. she might not be anyone’s favourite (definitely not mine lmao) but 1) just because she’s dating him now, in the present, doesn’t mean it suddenly makes everything his previous girlfriends did (notably taylor) absolutely innocuous, while she’s the wicked witch of the story just because she’s here now – please stop idealizing the past and start being rational about the present; and 2) this should go without saying, but i’ll say it anyway: she still doesn’t deserve to be publicly and constantly harassed on her socials just for living the y/n life she was lucky enough to create for herself thanks to the right connections and whatnot. you can gossip all you want in private, in your group chat with your friends, on twitter, tumblr, whatever space you want – provided it’s a fandom space. created by fans for fans. where none of these people will ever set foot, and if they do, then it’s on them. but not under her own posts or comments on ig, where everyone included her can see. that’s just nasty, and i don’t particularly like to say it but i’m on her side on this. she has every right to defend herself and no matter what you think of her, no matter what she did in the past, she still doesn’t deserve the constant public harassment people put her through. people on ig really need to learn how to be fucking decent human beings.

also about her controversies. the fact that she apologized for liking those “””jokes””” on ig years ago is meagre comfort, yes, but 1) what she did is still “”“less””” problematic than what taylor did, because taylor said all those things herself, louise “””only””” liked posts made by others. obviously i’m not saying that makes it okay, because it certainly doesn’t, but at the very least she apologized for it, while taylor never did – or i mean, she did once she was out of the spotlight, made irrelevant by alex dumping her and finally in her “new me” healing hippie era. we all have every right not to accept either of their apologies, but the idea that celebrities that did some ""“minor”"" problematic stuff in the past don’t even get a chance to genuinely regret their actions and apologize for them and at least try to better themselves is a direct consequence of cancel culture (which is utter bullshit) and in this case – you guessed it! – the result of pure misogyny. because we accept an apology from a man like miles (who, like it or not, did make those inappropriate comments to that interviewer and we can’t pretend he didn’t) but we refuse to accept it from them. and mind you, i’m not saying we shouldn’t accept miles’ apology – i’m his fan too and i do genuinely believe he regretted doing that. i’m also not saying we should accept their apologies just because they’re women. i’m just saying the double standards are through the roof, and that’s really interesting food for thought.

speaking of men. i’m a fan of alex, the band, miles, all of them. i love them. i also know they’re not only human beings, but also celebrities and rich white men. just like we don’t know their girlfriends, exes or whatever, we also don’t know *them*. we can have an idea of what they might be like, but we’ll never know how they really are backstage. like every public figure, their stage/celebrity personas are not a direct reflection of what they really are in private, because to an extent, the way they present themselves to us is part of the business. we are not entitled to their private life, and all we can do is speculate. that being said, the fandom’s tendency to idolize, idealize, and either sanctify or villainize them as well as their social circle is just so… ugh. especially when we go from general am discourse into milex waters, where the fandom theories and fanfiction influence seem to blurry the line between fiction and reality. are we all aware that theories are just… theories, right? that no matter how much they make sense we have no way of knowing if they’re true, and actually we might all be very much delusional? we all know that and don’t actually take those theories as 100% truth that’s set in stone… right? because some people seem to not be aware of that. with the milex theories as well as the ones about the way alex’s relationship with louise started (which, again, is all about double standards but i’ll get to that in a minute).

i do believe there was something between miles and alex; i also believe (unrelated) that alex cheated on taylor with louise and that’s how their relationship started. i don’t believe she’s a beard like some people are so adamant on saying (about that, there’s also some very thinly-veiled biphobia in some of those beard statements but i’m not going to talk about that now). i also believe louise wasn’t the only one alex cheated with - because if we believe that him and miles were romantic back in 2015-2016, then he was definitely cheating. no way taylor would’ve allowed that. she literally hated milex shippers and the idea of what their existence might have been implying. however, some people’s tendency to only see things as radical black or white/good or bad is concerning. people villainize and basically slut-shame louise for “stealing” alex from taylor, or miles, or even alexa despite the fact that they broke up an eternity ago; but fail to hold alex accountable for the fact that he was ultimately the one cheating. she was in the wrong for pursuing someone in a relationship, sure; but he was the one who fell for it and actively did the cheating on his at the time girlfriend. and yet people either ignore that, or just take out all the blame on louise for “manipulating” him into cheating. if (and again, this is just speculation) he really cheated (which probably wasn’t the first time with taylor as well as probably other girlfriends lmao) they were both nasty for it, but he was worse than her. taylor was annoying and rude to fans, but one thing’s for sure – she really loved him and she didn’t deserve the way he ended up treating her. obviously we don’t know how things really went, but my guy here definitely isn’t innocent, yet people throw all the blame on louise for what happened (hence the double standards i was talking about), like he wasn’t a grown ass man who could’ve just kept his dick in his pants but instead decided to be an asshole to the woman he was with.

with milex, roles are reversed. a lot of people here seem to be 100% convinced that theories are 100% real, that what you read in fics is exactly what happened between them, and that by default things can be very roughly simplified as alex = evil bitch who broke miles’ heart and miles = perfect little angel ray of sunshine who never did anything wrong and does nothing but suffer for said bitch who doesn’t deserve him – basically villainizing one and sanctifying the other. like alex is just a depressed and repressed whiny baby while miles is his boyfriend against all odds uwu or alternatively his emotional punching ball. the tendency this fandom has to woobify them in different ways is definitely something. and i’m not talking about fanfiction, because you can characterize them and their story however you want there (it’s fiction for a reason), but here it’s about real life. if you’re going to drag the real miles into the recent drama involving the real alex and the real louise, when – again – he has absolutely nothing to do with it, then at the very least treat all of them like the actual people they are, not some extreme caricatures of what their fanfiction personas are. because those are real people we’re talking about, and it’s essential to differentiate between fiction/theories and reality. regardless of you “shipping” alex with miles, taylor, alexa or anyone else. those are real people. none of them are angels, none of them are to be put on a pedestal. all of them are human and they probably fucked up more than a couple of times in their lives. hell, it would be weird if they hadn’t! their experiences are nuanced because they’re – guess what! - real life experiences, and not being able to recognize that nuance and analyze it at such, instead reducing everything they do or say to either black or white, good or bad, angel or devil behavior is… incredibly naïve to say the least.

Having said that, and regarding the recent drama (but also the paparazzi thing), trying to “protect” the real miles from controversies that don’t regard him by babifying him and spitting out his name in discourse where his name has never even been taken into consideration (because, for the millionth time, that drama has nothing to do with him) ultimately ends up having the opposite effect. by putting his name where it doesn’t belong (that kind of fandom discourse) you’re dragging him into it without even having a concrete reason to do so. by trying to “make sure he doesn’t get involved” you’re dragging him into things that aren’t about him when no one was even saying they were about him to begin with. and then people like the ones you find on amtwt that hate him/milex see those posts, and they use it as ammunition to hate on him and milex even more. you claim louise and amanda are feeding the trolls while you’re literally doing the same - feeding miles, milex and yourself as a shipper to the amtwt trolls lurking here who idolize louise and are just eagerly waiting to find a “crazy milex shipper” post to screenshot and bitch about on twt, jumping on the train of you making miles’ name so that they can talk shit about him, milex and milex shippers. it’s like serving it to them on a silver platter. you end up doing the very thing you were trying to prevent.

we can admit that celebrities make mistakes because they’re human beings like everyone else, while also believing they can genuinely change for the better and learn from said mistakes. you can also like/dislike someone without idolizing/villainizing them to the extreme. once again, it’s real people we’re talking about, and real people as well as real life experiences are all about nuance. we can gossip all we want, but we’re never going to know the truth about them, what they do and why they do it. most importantly, they’re never going to be perfect - and holding them to such an unrealistic standard is guaranteed to set you up for disappointment.

[saratinz]

Maneater (Chapter 7)

pairing ➩ Ex!Bucky Barnes x Promiscuous!Reader (College AU)

series warnings ➩ drinking, asshole!Bucky, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, love triangle, smut, slut shaming, cursing

chapter warnings ➩ cursing, slut shaming, mentions sex

synopsis ➩ Y/n explains her past.

word count ➩ 700

“It was my freshman year, and I bright-eyed and bushy-tailed my way into becoming the go-to math tutor. I had passion and drive, and I still do, but it was different. I had innocence, hell I even had my virginity.”

“Wait, what?”

“For your own sake, I’m just going to pretend you never asked that.”

“Thank you.”

“I know it’s surprising, but yes, I didn’t lose my v-card until college. I guess this is sorta my slutty origin story. Let’s get back on topic. Bucky Barnes was the new promising player, and I had my eyes set on him, and only him. He was failing calculous, so I got called in. When I say I fell for him, I mean I fell hard. I chose to ignore his arrogance and fuck-boy behaviors. It was all mild flirting and stolen glances between us. But one night, the mutual attraction became more, we had our first kiss. It was sweet, and it gave me hope. When we went on our first date, he won me the ugliest stuffed animal from a claw machine. Even though it looked like a sloth on cocaine, I loved it with all my heart.”

“James started to feel like home to me. Just his essence invited me to vent about whatever was on my mind. I just knew in my heart that I wanted him to be the first guy to have sex with me. So little by little, we started doing more stuff. And eventually we had sex, and I realized that I really liked it. Everything was perfect, or at least that’s what I thought. Little did I know, he wasn’t completely faithful. He never cheated, but his heart wasn’t 100% set on me. He started to eyeball my best friend at the time. Her name’s Natasha and she was equally beautiful, funny, smart, and experienced. From my understanding, they would hang out alone, just to talk and get to know each other. Eventually, he figured out that she was everything he’d ever dreamt of. I thought I was in this fairytale romance, one that people would envy. But one day, he just dumped me. There were signs, but I was too in love to notice. After he broke up with me, I was a wreck. I started drowning myself in booze and guys that didn’t give a shit about my wellbeing.”

“I had to watch as my first boyfriend fell in love with my best friend. I tried to be okay, but I felt like I was suffocating every time I saw them together. I started to get a reputation as the campus slut. Pretty much anyone could have sex with me if they just gave me a bit of attention. You can watch movies and listen to songs about this shit happening, but until you actually live the nightmare, you have no idea how you’ll react.”

“So, what happened to Bucky and Natasha?”

“She cheated on him actually.” 

“Kinda seems like he got what he deserved.”

“Y’know what Peter, I am really starting to like you.” He give a bashful smile in response. “When they broke up, I finally felt a sense of relief. My alcohol and dick consumption started declining. After a year of feeling inferior to every pretty girl I saw, I realized that I was worth something. I didn’t need guys for validation, I just wanted them for pleasure. During sophomore year I stopped caring what anyone thought of me. That’s how I ended up, well, me. James reacted the same way I did, using sex to drown the pain, and he has never had a girlfriend since. And Nat, well, the slut-shaming got so bad that she transferred.”

“Anyway, this year I fucked myself over. I fell for a guy. I got scared of him, and wound up having sex with Bucky twice. Thinking back I see all these obvious signs that Steve wasn’t what he seemed. Hindsight’s 20/20 I guess. Bucky knew that he was using me, hell, he was the one who suggested it. So I can say with full confidence that Bucky Barnes does not love me, and maybe he never did. But everything with him is over now, thank god. I’m done with that prick.”

Previous chapter / Masterlist / Next chapter

taglist:

@cjand10, @afraidofshrimp

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

warnings for this chapter: none really, ngl. just very honest and open conversation. but same as all the other warnings in previous chapters, just be cautious if you see anything that may trigger you. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around me, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day I took off my watch. My hands were shaking, the anticipation inside me about to explode like fireworks. I balled my hands up into fists and put them in my sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because I could feel my palms getting sweaty.

I glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. I raised my hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at me. I watched her run further and further away until they were out of my line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. I turned my attention back to the door, and lifted my hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before I was able to, Will opened the door.

I froze, my hand still in the air. I lowered my arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before I was met with a faceful of door. I should have seen that coming. I leaned my head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” I hesitated, digging my nails into my palms. This was likely going to be my first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but I figured I might as well get everything off my chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

I closed my eyes with my head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when I felt a light thump right next to my face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to my ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. My stomach nervously flipped as I cleared my throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” I trailed off. What was I trying to say? How could I reduce my love for Will into a single sentence? How could I explain myself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? I couldn’t. I was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. I asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” I tried to add a bit of humor to my voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. I set my hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” I felt the doorknob click below, and I lifted my head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and I were little, we functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, I was happy. When Will would cry, I would cry with him. Now, I felt like I was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed myself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

Will crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down towards the ground, still on the defensive. But his voice betrayed him when he said, “No, please don't worry about me. It’s fine. And I…” his voice wobbled, “I’m sorry for slamming the door. I was just so…”

I nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

I took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. I wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” I heard myself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of us began awkwardly laughing while still crying. I had to refrain from thinking too much, because if I did, I'd get all sentimental about how this was the first time I'd laughed with Will in… I couldn’t even remember. 

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought my approval, after everything. Of course I liked it. I liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had me falling flat on my face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” I told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” I thought of that one time I'd walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded me…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” I apologized, picking at the nails of my index fingers with my thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Will replied quickly, eyes wide. “I was being a total asshole that day. I know this doesn’t excuse what I said to you, but I’ll have you know I’d just failed an English test–”

“Did you not read the material?” I smirked, and Will smiled back up at me, our eyes fully meeting for the first time. 

“You know me too well,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

I gawked at that, my eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” I ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than I remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. My gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and my mouth went dry when I realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt I had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“But yeah,” Will continued, “leave it to Matt Winters to ruin the one day of the year where I don’t feel like shit. So when you called, I’d just gotten back home. And I felt so guilty for snapping at you and hanging up that I didn’t call you back after the fact, because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” I emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and I feared I'd said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to my forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then we’d need to call an ambulance. Because I was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” I deadpanned at the joke, despite myself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could I be mad at Will for that? Why would I be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like I had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if I did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, I'd be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. I figured I'd come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why I was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should I say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” My focus shifted down to my shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But I didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. My head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at my biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” I quipped back. I decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and we were back in my basement again. Those were Will’s last words to me before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where I’d tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” I listed off what I'd endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. I tacked the only thing I could think of onto the end of my list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. I wished it was my hand instead. As I took in Will’s jarred reaction, my world went cold. It made more sense when I shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on my eyelids. I lowered my gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” I concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and I diverted my eyes back to the ground. I watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. We were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting me out for the last time, giving me the closure I'd practically begged for. I lifted my head so I could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for me?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and I raised my eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if I'd ever seen one. I took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. I took off my mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if I tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. I expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, I took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that I knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. I walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. I peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. I knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. I smiled to myself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one I had on my desk, the photo that Jonathan took of me on Will’s handlebars. I felt like crying again, so I looked away before that could happen. My attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. I guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” I asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what I thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

I hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

I shook my head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards me.

“I had one, Will!” I tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?” I phrased the last part of my sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to me in order to poke my chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and I feigned offense as I felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in my sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch my entire torso. Will was close enough that I could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. My eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and I fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” I breathed, and Will processed what I had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

I observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of me. I hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made me think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, I thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” I said as I glared back at Will, giving away my joking nature with a small lift of my lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. I gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next. 

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told me, ambition in his tone. I wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. I shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to me.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking my much larger hand in his own, intertwining our fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” I felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I glanced down at our connected hands as Will spoke again, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. I blinked, pulling my attention back up to Will’s face. How was I supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when our palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less. 

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now I had to say yes. I gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of my hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last me for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making me pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed me standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for me to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on me.

We made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while I hopped up on the counter like when we were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed me from where I stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to me. I took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way I took my coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how I felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and I died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” I frowned, sipping my coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to me as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— my sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. I set my coffee down next to me and shifted so my hands were squished under my thighs. That way I wouldn’t be able to do what I truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove my tongue down his throat as I ran my fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, I thought, but held my tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. I preened at the praise as I pulled one of my hands out from under my leg to pick up my mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on me for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. I watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. I was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking me out.

“But what about you?” I asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. I nodded at what Will was telling me, but something else dwelled in the forefront of my mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” I asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” I remarked slowly, trying my best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed me a plate, and I thanked him as we dug in, the two of us standing at (and sitting on) the counter as we ate. I cut into my pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with my fork and swirling it around in the syrup on my plate. I looked up when I heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met my gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. I blushed when I realized I’d been staring, and quickly focused back on my own plate. I chewed the piece of pancake I’d cut and confirmed to myself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes I’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

I turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at me already. Will’s eyes jumped from me to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to me all within the span of five seconds. I held his attention this time when I licked my lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, I felt like I was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, I noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once we’d finished our pancakes and put our dishes in the sink, Will and I headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break my heart.

I admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before I came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. I remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to my house to celebrate, Will had brought all of our friends into a secluded area of the house and told us he was gay. I, who had been head over heels in love with my best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in my head. Maybe I had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure I knew it. So I withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing myself along like I had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” I said more to myself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to me, close enough that our arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at me, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take me back in time to before my world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” I looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face me before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to remember it. Hell, I didn’t want to think about it. But me took a second to reason with myself, because Will was standing beside me, Will was asking something of me, and the least I could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So I told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and I was lying on the basement couch with my legs hanging off the edge. My eyes were closed, and I wore my headphones which were attached to my Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as I had from the second it fell into my hands back in 1986. I felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. I cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when I registered that it was Will who was entering my space. I always loved when Will came to my house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” I sat up, pulling my headphones fully off my head and resting them around my neck. Then I saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. My eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? I thought I'd hidden them well enough. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken, because Will held my letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. I couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” I wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” I squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and I flinched. I'd never seen Will this angry before. I stood up then, my face on fire with inferiority from when I’d been on the couch as Will towered over me. Now, I was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” I kept my tone soft, what the Party called my Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. I was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on my mind when I thought about Will. When I thought about Will, I felt safe, I felt hopeful, I felt valuable, and I felt worthy. What I felt for Will was pure love, and I'd say it out loud… if I didn’t hate myself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” I told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” I continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when I had Will caged in between my arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto my wrist, our watches positioned side by side. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting myself in preparation for what I was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

I opened my eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, I could hear Will’s heartbeat. I licked my lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, I leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of my life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. I wanted to kiss Will forever. I allowed myself, for once in my life, to take what I wanted, and moved my hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of my pent-up passion, holding him close. I felt Will’s hands meet my shoulders, and… he was pushing me away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to me? I'd just bared my soul to the love of my life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of me. I wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” I said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like I'd always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook my hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of my reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” I pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” I took back what I’d thought about not being afraid of Will. I was terrified. I watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. I put a hand up to my mouth, muffling a sob.

What had I done?

I stopped my pacing for a moment to breathe. I'd gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. I looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at me with that same blank expression, and I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting me where I was at, and placing a hand on my arm. I didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning me caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took my chin and moved it so our eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

“Because I had convinced myself that you could never love me the way I loved you. But all of a sudden you were telling me that you loved me romantically and wanted to be with me forever! How can you blame me for being thrown off?”

I shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And I meant it; I couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because I had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held my chin lowered down to the space between my neck and my shoulder, and he went to reply, but I spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along my sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” my tone was rough as I crossed my arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” I softened my voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of us at once.

I looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking my eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to me and pulled my hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath my skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and I looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” I admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as I spoke. I was not proud of the person I'd become. I relived every single one of my mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured me like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. I slowed my movements before confessing something else, something I never thought I’d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and I was quick to comfort him, my hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” I hesitated, uncertainty flooding my thoughts, but I swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” I asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

I pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling my body instantly as Will’s head fell against my chest, right over my heart. I could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that my heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up my back, pulling me down slightly by my shoulderblades. I nestled my nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, I opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only I would remember it happening. As we stood there, our bodies flush against one another, I knew I didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Will and I held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what I had been waiting for. Just this. I finally felt whole again.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but I was sure of the fact that both of us were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” I laughed, practically slapping my sweatshirt sleeve up to my face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and I remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of my emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” I continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto my chest again as my hands ran up and down Will’s sides. I memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing my hands upwards until my hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” I said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from my chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on my hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around my lower back. 

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told me, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” I felt my jaw drop, barely able to process what I was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around my brain, and I might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. I needed Will to pinch me, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn’t real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for me, I pinched myself, and felt butterflies erupt in my stomach when I didn’t snap my eyes open to the sight of my bedroom back in Indianapolis. I was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding me rather sensually, and I felt so fucking alive. 

“So… where do we go from here?” I whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. I backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of my mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on me. I'd gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” I said, almost a reflex at this point in my life. I always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing my wrist before I could get too far. He pulled me back in sharply and grabbed me by the back of my neck, tugging me all the way down until our lips collided. I let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as I shoved my hands into Will’s hair, raising my head as I leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While my hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved me everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from my lower back, up my torso, past my chest, around the back of my head to brush the nape of my neck, through my long hair, then back down to grope my ass. I squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through my body and set me ablaze. I lowered my grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way I'd wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss and looked up, smirk on his lips. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” I tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, turning us around and backing me up until my calves hit the base of Will’s bed. I was sure I had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and I whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed me backwards until my back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. I had thought Will would only call me that in my dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. I watched as Will climbed on top of me, one leg on either side of my waist, and leaned down to kiss me, nice and slow. I ran my tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let me in immediately. We continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted my arms up so they were pinned above my head, and I quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down my neck. I smiled at the ceiling. I loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved me. All was right with the world.But I would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

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[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

day 6: That Sort of Love

Agatha's trying to figure herself out, and why she can't seem to love like others do.

Rating: T

Length: 921

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or below the cut :)

I thought that dating Niamh meant I was normal. 

She's handsome and smart and wears her heart on her sleeve even when she's trying to be a tough prick. She's great at kissing, and sex, and she stopped holding doors open for me when I told her I hated it. I thought I could love her. 

I should love her, but there's something wrong with me. 

I thought dating Niamh, and wanting to kiss her, meant the rest would come to me. But I was right when I said I don't have the right kind of love inside me. I didn't love Simon in the way I was supposed to, and now I don't love Niamh in the way I should. 

It's worse because I know she loves me. She hasn't said it, but she's fixed up a leak in Ebb’s barn roof. (I guess it's my barn now). And she told me she's drawing up plans to fit the bathroom with a claw-foot tub, after I mentioned I’ve always wanted one of those. And who else would Niamh leave the clinic early for just to get a bite to eat?

I don't deserve her. I try to pay her back: I bought her hair-styling products, I put kissy emojis in my texts even though it makes me feel like I’m lying, I moan extra breathy when she eats me out because I know it turns her on. 

But I don't love her. 

People speak of romantic attraction like it's this huge, magical (Normal type of magical) thing, and I just don't get it. 

What's a girlfriend beyond a friend you like to fuck? 

(I know there must be more to it though, asexual people exist, and they can have romantic feelings).

I asked Keris once how she knew she wanted to be with Trixie. She said things just felt different with her. But I don't feel different about Niamh. I like her like I like Penny. (Okay that's a bad example, I definitely like her more than Penny.) I like her like I like Ginger; like I liked Minty. Except I’ve never imagined what it’d be like to sleep with either of them. 

I told Niamh we should break up, because I can't seem to love her in the same way she can love me. She was pissed about that. I know she's insecure about ending up as nothing but an experiment for straight girls. I’m not straight though, I don't feel romantic towards men either. And after trying once with Simon I think it's safe to say I don’t ever want to sleep with a man. 

We didn't talk for two weeks after I said we should split. 

And I cried for most of it. 

I felt so stupid. After all, I���m the one who called things off, I’m the one who said I don't love her. But Niamh’s still my friend, I do enjoy her company. I wish I could be normal for her. 

I turned to Penny, (because who else do I have? I’m not about to go to Simon with my girl problems), told her what was going on with Niamh and I, how I want her, but I can’t make myself love her the right way. I don’t want to build my life around her and get married with two kids, I don’t want to feel like we have to go on dates often enough or we’re failing, I don’t want her to treat me like a girlfriend. 

Penny’s American asked why there had to be a right way to love. I wanted to slap him. I refrained though, and he asked another question: if I’d ever considered I was aromantic. 

And well, no… I hadn't. Seven Snakes, maybe I am. But what does that solve? I can’t very well tell Niamh I just want to use her for sex, can I? 

The American tried to tell me that’s not how it has to work. He’s annoyingly emotionally mature and knowledgeable about ‘alternative’ relationships. 

I thought about what the American said for a bit. And I tried preparing this big long explanation to give to Niamh, but then I got scared and deleted it off my phone. And then one of the goats got a rusty nail stuck in his hoof, and I thought it was infected so I had to go to the clinic. And of course Niamh was the only one that could help. 

She didn’t say anything about us while she examined the hoof. It hurt a bit how coldly professional she was. 

I tried to play along, I wanted to, coward that I am. But I thought about going home alone and feeling the loss of my closest friend for the 14th night in a row. I didn't want Niamh to be a stranger again. So I made myself say something. And then I was saying too much. I started rambling on and on like: I’m not straight and I do like you but I might be aromantic and it’s great when we fuck, and I worry I can’t give you what you deserve but it’s not that I never want to see you it’s just I don’t know exactly what I do want. I know I want it with you though, is that okay? Can you trust me? Can you follow my lead on this?

Niamh said she had to think about it. And she let me kiss her when I left. 

Fair enough. 

So, I guess, now we wait.

[desperate2lose]

hi, i’m Des. i haven’t had an @na/mi@ account since i was probably 14. that was the last time i was thin. all my life i have had weight issues, which i now know are due to PCOS (i’m ftm, have been for 12 yrs). the only 2 times i was ever thin were when i was 9 because i played sports, and when i was 14 because i was r3stricting. i’m 5’6, and i should be somewhere in the 120-150 range to be considered healthy. my lowest was 130 in high school. i’m currently at my highest, somewhere between 250-280. at about 18 i started ballooning, rapidly gaining weight no matter how much i worked out. since then i’ve rel@psed a couple times but it never stuck because i was so scared of being how i was in high school.

back then i was a zombie. due to mental health issues but also because of my ed. i was constantly tired and sad and i wanted to be a skeleton. i preferred being d3@d thin rather than fat and alive. i don’t feel that way anymore. i don’t want to be underw3ight, i don’t want to d!3. i want to be thin, i want to lose.

i’m aware that reverting to this lifestyle and r3stricting isn’t the healthy way to lose. however, it’s the only thing that has worked for me in the past. and i believe it’s the only way to regain my self control. i definitely b!nge sometimes for emotional reasons and i am not okay with that. whenever i’ve tried to diet in a “healthy” way, i fall off of it, or i don’t hold myself accountable enough.

i feel like i’m the type of person where if i say i’ll only eat 1200 cals it turns to 1500. if i say i’ll only eat omad it’ll end up being tmad. so my theory is that i have more than enough to lose, so if my goal is to eat n0thing, i’ll probably fail but still progress.

some things i’m trying to avoid:

• ending up malnourished

i plan on taking vitamins and if i do eat, making sure it’s the right type of food to get me thru my physical job/working out/life.

• my mental health declining

i’ve been working very hard on my mh and i’m not going to throw that away. so i’ll be tracking my moods and modifying what/how much i eat to keep myself stable.

• “⭐️vation mode”

i dont want to end up keeping my fat on because my body goes into this mode. so i’m gradually going to reduce my calories over probably 6 weeks.

• going under my ugw

if i even hit my ugw it’ll be a miracle, but i don’t want to become so @ddicted to r3stricting that i continue rather than maintaining if i eventually get there.

• my loved ones finding out

i plan on making it seem like im just changing my lifestyle. i don’t want to lie, so i’m hoping no one will notice.

• failing

pretty much the only perk of me being obese right now is that my doctor wants to put me on appetite suppressants. i just have to figure out which i’d rather have, do some bloodwork, and then i’m golden.

DISCLAIMERS

i’m not in the mindset to be swayed into not r3l@psing. so pls don’t try to convince me.

i’m not fatphobic. i don’t see anyone worth less no matter what their body looks like. this is solely about me and how i see myself.

i’m not into shaming/triggering each other on purpose to promote progress. you can do that but leave me out of it. if i see anyone insulting me, i’m blocking them, period.

i (in general, sometimes i have bad days) do not hate myself. i understand that this corner of the internet tends to have a lot of self hatred, sh, etc. that’s not where i am in life. this is strictly about w3ight to me. if you are sewer slidal, post sh, talk about sh, or constantly post self hatred, i probably won’t follow you. i hope you love yourself soon though.

any tips on how to lose/vitamins to take/recipes/etc are appreciated.

so thats basically it. im gonna be blogging some kind of mix between ana and d!et stuff. some healthy stuff. some not healthy stuff. i’m not trying to fit in any boxes, just trying to figure out what works for me because i am so fucking desperate to lose at this point.

[leporellian]

the stupidest mental behavior i have (which follows my “god i wish i had a solid mentor figure” whining from yesterday) is that when i feel particularly self-loathsome or scared about something, which is often because i am a timid piece of shit, i imagine i’m in a professor’s office. (never really anyone in particular, just whoever comes to mind real or imaginary) and i imagine we’re having office hours and they’re reviewing my work and somehow whatever i’m currently fretting about comes into conversation. and i tell them whatever it is- listen, i’m good at only one stupid thing and nothing else so i have to be the best at it, i’ve given up the concept of finding a partner because i can’t imagine anyone wanting to date an autistic person that presents the way i do, i’m scared of fucking everything up because i have to justify my existence to myself constantly and make up for it being me, and personal matters that i wouldn’t admit here. and then i stop and i imagine what a professor would say, knowing very well that the things they say are out of professional obligation and are meant to help me with my career and not with my personal life. and it never really helps, because i know it’s me and not a professor saying these things in the end and i don’t want to hear my own warped opinions i want to hear it from someone else to know that it’s real. but sometimes i like to imagine that i have someone there- someone with no real obligation to help, someone i want to please but i don’t have to, someone who knows more about the world than i do and maybe once was there themselves- that wants to help. and who i don’t fail to the point they take themselves away from me forever

[thespacewithin]

I will not allow my pieces to be used anymore. It is your job to figure out your pieces and what the fuck is going on from your lens and choose to share that with me if you want. AND NOT IN RESPONSE TO ME SHARING MY FUCKING FEELINGS. That is not the appropriate goddamn time. I know exactly what is happening on my end and I feel lonely as fuck when your energy back is, “im sorry you feel that way/sounds really rough in your experience..” vibes without actually being in the feeling with me or owning your part in why I feel this in our dynamic with us... OR it’s me sharing and then you fucking make it about yourself. Me sharing my feelings is about ME—NOT. ABOUT. YOU.

I also don't give a flying fuck about your intentions. I am telling you how I feel and your impact on me. If you don’t know what happened or what you're contributing to my feelings or the conflict dynamic, that is EXACTLY the fucking problem. Why do I need to get THIS fucking big in order to exist in conflict with you? What pieces in my own history make this make sense? I tried to share all of that with you. Because everything fucking makes sense. Figure out how you contribute to this in your own goddamn space and QUIT fucking deflecting that work to me.

Also you’re waiting and wanting to see changes with me and our dynamic without fully sharing your pieces or what you need?… yeah that makes no sense and I feel fucking set up to fail. and have to try and figure out pieces on my own... why? Because I feel like the fucking crazy person when talking to you. But I fucking know I am not. And I will not be fucking gaslit again. (No I still do NOT want you to share with me if you don’t want to or are not fucking ready.)

Pieces I've come up with: you actually have more tender feelings that you also feel in the moment quickly but unable to share or know them for xy reason, then you ask me more about myself, but it's not really about me and I feel very unheard and things are being fucking deflected. I answer your questions but you're stuck in your own mind/body disconnected feelings and continue to explain shit.. are you explaining to me or your self-checking self? ...It's basically a trap for me. It's not about me at all. You keep checking your own words and your own self bc you're trying to mitigate something. But it's shit because your feelings never get shared. Resentment builds. And it’s shit because I keep feeling used, misunderstood, and unfuckingheard and my anger fucking builds because those are some of my biggest wounds.

Deeper level zoomed out. You feel scared/shame/a deep feeling of not being enough and you’ll be abandoned, so you find ways to make yourself needed by those you care about or emotionally take care of them, then resentment builds because you’re beyond your capacity and trapped by all their needs that they did or didn’t voice but you met anyway. Fuck. Is any of this accurate at all? I wish I knew. But this is what I felt was happening in the last connection and what this whole goddamn cycle echoes in all of my body and why it has so much fucking rage. I feel manipulated and set the fuck up. It’s about you but you make it about me on the outside. On the inside, it's also about you and cannot put yourself actually in my shoes because there is little emotional flexibility and availability. I am not trying to throw definitions fucking at you cause I’m angry at you. I am trying to name things that are happening so I don’t fucking get manipulated.

No. I am not falling for that shit again. Me and my emotions are not the fucking problem. And I will not do your work, which feels like it's being fucking deflected to me through all this blame energy I feel. Also if I feel like you’re trying to take care of me before being vulnerable back with me when we are trying to resolve conflicts, there is a 95% chance it will enrage me because of the above. I am not asking to be held, I am asking to be fucking heard. If I can feel that consistently, maybe I’ll be open to being fucking held.

I am not hard to understand for those who try and want to believe me. Or maybe I am hard to understand. Either way, I am still fucking here.

[jodilin65]

Haha, this is horribly childish of me but I guess the prankster in me can never fully retire. I’m kind of messing with Kim now. Speech-to-text works best on my phone but I’m not always by my phone. I’m also not always on the laptop which works better than my desktop. So I decided that whenever I’m talk-typing on my desktop I will do it in an e-mail since that seems to be the one that works best compared to in Word or Google Docs. Rather than do drafts that I discard, I figure why not drop copies on Kim, right? LOL. Not sure she’ll get it, though, because there have been issues sending emails to those with different email providers in the past.

I deleted the Gmail tracker because it was hit or miss. I tested a couple of emails on Tom and the first one showed it was opened but the second one didn’t even though he did open it. So the messages I sent Kim shortly after realizing I’d been ghosted were probably opened as well.

Fucking honker’s mutt gave a few loud barks out the lanai at 5:30 in the morning. Again, too noticeable. Go home!

Tom is definitely going to have to get a different primary care doctor. He got to his appointment at 9:00 and was still waiting at 11:00. Finally, he just left. Luckily, he still has refills on his medication. This doctor has always made him wait a long time but this was the first time he failed to show up at all. I would be pissed.

My jaw is a little sore today and my TMJ is acting up like crazy. I don’t know if that’s because my surgically-created ear canal is due to be cleaned or if it’s because of the mouthguard. I would still rather that than be tired. Even though the spikes are back I feel rested enough. I had a little tired spell come over me a little while ago and I laid down for a few minutes, got up, made a smoothie, and now I’m okay. To finish up my almond milk, I made a strawberry banana smoothie yesterday. Today’s smoothie was cucumbers and raspberries. It was a little weird. I think my next one will be banana blueberry and then banana peanut butter.

I was telling Tom just yesterday that I miss remembering my dreams as often as I used to even if most of them were negative because I would sometimes get good story ideas from them. I remember two dreams I had last night, one weird, one bad.

Tom and I slept together in the weird dream, and he was still working. He got up and went to work. We were living in some kind of apartment building with a boutique on the ground floor. I went down and browsed around the store when I came across what looked like an amazing sex toy. Eager to try it out, I purchased it and took it upstairs. I crept into our bedroom which was still dark because the blackout drapes were closed and sat on a velvety bench at the foot of the bed. But instead of sitting on the bench, I sat on Tom’s foot which was hanging off the foot of the bed. He woke up and I asked him what he was doing in bed, and he said he worked all day and was tired. I was totally confused because I thought he had just gotten up and left. The dream ended with me trying to figure out where all those missing hours had gone.

In the bad dream, I was walking through a mall by myself when I heard what sounded like intermittent bursts of a machine gun. My first thought was that gangs were shooting up each other. This started while I was at one end of the mall but as I walked deeper into the mall, I realized the sound faded. So I turned back and walked to the end of the mall and opened a door with an exit sign above it. That was when I realized the shots were coming from outside but not on the ground. I looked up and saw dozens of similar-looking white planes that were a little smaller than a standard commercial plane all flying in neat little rows forming a grid. They were shooting down at the ground. Oddly enough, I wasn’t scared. I simply went back inside the mall.

[underthebluemoone]

Prospice

I have this thing that when I’m feeling overwhelmed and I can’t seem to breathe— like my lungs has failed me or there’s this pressure in my chest that I can’t shake, I would go for a walk or sit in an open space. I would listen to whatever shit playlist that I created for myself thinking it’ll answer my unorganized thoughts. And it helps, for the minuscule reasons— it works. But at this point, what if my walks come to an end— to a point that no road will lead me to where I need to be or want to be. That no matter how much I gasp for air, no open space or shining sun will take away what I feel?

I’m afraid to exist with this pain. And I know things will get better but for how long? It’s easy to say those lines but people tend to ignore the excruciating process of it. I’m at my breaking point and I don’t know how to pull away. I don’t know if I ever want to try and heal. Love and pain co-exist and I’m never good at handling both. Never was a good caretaker of my sanity and being.

Not being able to kill myself is the worst feeling and I’ve been thinking of going away. Of ending myself, and I’m scared of fucking it up that it might get everything worse. I don’t want to heal only for it be taken away. I don’t want to be in the cycle of finding myself again and being part of another only to experience pain all over again because pain will always exist.

I’m not a hopeful person— I tried but never was good at being good for myself, so what’s the point? Why go through all those efforts of healing and being better when I’m already aware of the end? I found out that I wasn’t made to be malleable— and I don’t have to be.

I know that considering this, is selfishness. People in my life will suffer because of this and I want to apologize for that, I did try to become better because I didn’t want to hurt anyone by being selfish so 6 years ago I looked forward and try, and now I’m here. Again.

If ever this will be read, I want people to know that it was indeed selfishness and it was clarity. And that I finally figured out that I’m destined to be brief.

I am grateful though. That even though I wasn’t able to get out of my fated mediocrity, I still had people. I had the best people in this lifetime. Sweet or bitter memories— I will treasure them up to my last seconds.

This is all on me. No one to blame. No reason to point. It is a selfish decision that I have concluded for myself.

I have laid out so many questions but the lingering ones right now is, when and how.

How will I go? When will it be?

[rain-tumbling-through-a-vent]

I’m disgusted by my own body. I’ve been spiraling for THREE AND A HALF weeks now and I’ve forgotten to brush my teeth the whole time. I think I’ve got, like, 3 or four cavities. My parents also stopped paying my medical bills so every treatment I get comes out of my own pocket. I need wisdom teeth surgery too, I spent FIVE WHOLE YEARS in braces only to fuck my teeth up after I get them off. I suck so fucking much. I can’t stop scratching out holes in my face either. I started the week with nothing but small acne sores that’d go away in a week and now I’ve got three massive gashes on my face. That’s not even to mention the fact that I didn’t take a shower for THREE WHOLE WEEKS. I’m so fucking disgusting, why can’t I hyperfixate on being healthy or making myself beautiful? Oh yeah, MY MIND IS A PRISON THAT I CANNOT EVER ESCAPE. When I finished my shower yesterday, I pulled a hairball the size of both my fists put together off of my wet brush. I have curly hair so shedding in the shower is pretty normal, but that much hair? It’s too much! I’m scared to take a shower again and pulling enough hair out to create a bald spot. I already broke a whole lick of hair off right at my hairline so that it looks like I have the worst bangs ever. It also doesn’t help that my arms, back, and thighs are covered in scars from where I picked at sores. And when I say covered, I mean fuckin COVERED. I look like an ambidextrous heroine addict with really bad aim and a lying mother. And even on top of all of that, I’m a trans girl as well. So all of my failings only serve to compound the dysphoria that I feel at a base level every fucking day. I know that these behaviors are indicative of chronic anxiety and/or depression and/or adhd, but I’ve never been this bad. I’m borderline suicidal and incredibly lonely, I think I’m an extrovert with such terrible anxiety that it prevents me from refilling my energy. I think that the worst part of all of this is the fact that I have friends that want to talk to me, they just live far enough away to be too expensive to drive over for an afternoon. And I cannot properly put into words how much I HATE talking on the phone and texting. It’s too stressful trying to figure out how to get the time of a message across, and talking on the phone is just terrible. I had a long term partner of two and a half years until relatively recently. I initiated a break in the relationship because we were extremely co-dependent and had been driving apart for a few months anyways. Long story short, he ended up crossing my boundaries and being an asshole to my friends so I ended the relationship. He didn’t take it very well and now we aren’t in communication with each other anymore. The wild thing about it is we were unhealthily codependent, but I didn’t realize how much I needed him. I’ve been in a prolonged spiral ever since I pushed him away, just feeling absolutely empty and all at once overwhelmed. He was my purpose and I threw him away. All of that was pretty terrible, but almost nothing trumps my mostly fiscally supportive parents. My home life sucks and not just because I’m a fucking loser 20 year old that lives with her parents. There’s only one rule for them, one line I can’t cross, don’t be visibly trans at their house. I must note that I’m the eldest of four and all of my siblings hate me for causing my parent’s terrible mental health. They’re not wrong, but I was outed so I didn’t mean to. So one rule, you’re in the closet over here, okay that doesn’t sound so bad. Literally every conversation I have with either of them always ends up being about their feelings towards my transness. They seem to think I’ve been brainwashed by the trans agenda and am going to mutilate myself and immediately regret it. Every conversation ends like this, over and over again I’m constantly reminded that I’m an abomination or that I’m ruining my life. But here’s the real kicker, they continue to support me financially; even going so far as to offer to pay for college if I can ever get my shit together and get back over there. (1/?)

[gobackhomewhereitssafe]

She’s the Only One

This is my first post! It’s the fake scenario I currently fall asleep to every night. I finally had to write it down. I’m not totally satisfied with it, I just usually fall asleep before it ends. Haha.

Pairings: mob!bucky x you

Warnings: violence, mild angst, fluff

The night had been going unbelievably well. It was the first time you were meeting Bucky’s friends. They’d taken to you instantly and you’d spent hours at a booth in his club listening to their stories, you’d hardly stopped laughing. Bucky was the happiest he could remember being. He couldn’t stop watching you, amazed at how natural it felt to be with you, easy as breathing. And he realized, as necessary. 

Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time, it was disorienting. Like a scene from a movie, suddenly bottles behind the bar started to explode as if in slow motion. The sound of shattering glass filled the room as screams erupted from every corner of the club. Bodies were dropping to the floor, some dead, some simply trying to crawl to safety. A group of men had opened fire, and their target was anyone. 

You had barely begun to process what was happening when you felt a strong hand push your head down. You felt yourself being tucked under Bucky’s arm, his hand gripped your waist and he was half-carrying you out of the booth. He kept you behind him and you watched as his metal hand shot out in front of him. It moved with alarming precision, you heard the sharp “pings” as the bullets aimed at him were deflected off of his palm. He never flinched. You couldn’t close your eyes. You watched his face, hard with concentration. You couldn’t understand it, but you were not afraid. His men had convened into a line in front of you, returning heavy fire. Bucky led you both out through the kitchen and out the back door, into a waiting car. He had no sooner closed the car door and it was peeling away down the alley. 

The car ride was silent at first. He was too afraid to speak, too afraid that if he broke the silence it would fill with you screaming at him for putting you in that situation. You opened your mouth to speak and he squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the onslaught. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, merely curious. His eyes snapped open wide in surprise. He could barely comprehend your casual tone. Of all the questions you could have asked, that was all you wanted to know?

“Safe house.” He said. You nodded, and took his hand as you leaned your head against the window. 

The drive was long, and you’d eventually dozed off on the way. Bucky knew you had to be in shock. Nothing else could explain your lack of fear. No anger, no panic. Once you were asleep, he called Steve. 

“Who the fuck was it?” He spoke low as not to wake you, but his voice was urgent. 

“Rumlow’s boys. Ambushed us in retaliation for the deal with Zemo. We’re behind you. We weren’t followed. See you in a minute.”

Bucky snapped the phone shut, and crushed it into pieces.

...

He was beyond pissed, but he carried you like a baby, gentle as could be. The mix of feelings he had was making it hard for him to breathe. Furious, scared, worried, enraged. You looked peaceful, which was helping him stay focused.

He laid you on the bed and your body automatically responded to the soft sheets, stretching then curling up, and you let out a soft sigh. He felt his heart squeeze and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He pulled the blanket over you and tucked it under your chin. He moved an armchair closer to the bed, so he could sit beside you and reached out to run his thumb across your forehead. He didn’t know if you even needed soothing, but it made him feel helpful and he didn’t know what else to do.

“Is she ok?” Bucky tore his eyes away from you to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face serious.

“Yes. She didn’t get hit.” He looked back to you. “She’s just sleeping.”

“How much did she see?”

“Everything.” Bucky said, a mix of rage and guilt in his voice.

“What are we going to do about it?” He put both hands up defensively, shaking his head in response to Bucky’s head snapping up, knowing what normally happened to witnesses. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, what are we going to do for her. Is she going to be alright?”

Bucky relaxed slightly and returned his gaze to your face. “Full protection, around the clock. And she does not leave my sight until every last one of them is dead.” Bucky’s jaw tightened, the only sign of his fury, as he continued to softly stroke your hair. “But yes, I think she’ll be alright,” he said. 

Steve nodded. He watched as Bucky noticed you moving. Still asleep, a frown slowly formed on your face, your fingers started to twitch and your hands turned into fists. You whimpered softly. You were having a bad dream. Bucky’s metal hand moved to gently massage the hard furrow between your eyes until your face relaxed again. He moved his hand to your cheek and leaned down to put his face next to yours. He whispered into your ear, “Shhh, baby, you’re ok. I’ve got you.” He nuzzled his face into your hair and kissed the top of your head. You didn’t wake, but responded to his touch by pushing your head into his palm, like a kitten. He resumed thumbing soothing brushes across your face.

“I’ve never seen you like this before, Buck.” Steve said. “This one is different.”

“She’s the only one.” Bucky said simply. Bucky felt weak, his mind forcing the image of what could have happened tonight into his head. He shuddered and instinctively moved to hover protectively over you.

“You’re in love, pal.”

Bucky didn’t look away from you. “I know.” 

...

You stirred and stretched, slowly opening your eyes and taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. You turned to your side and saw Bucky’s figure immediately slide off the chair he was in to be face-to-face with you. He looked so sad. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“What’s wrong?” He almost yelled. “What’s wrong?! You were almost killed last night. I’m waiting for you to run screaming from this room! I spent the whole night trying and failing to prepare myself for you to leave me!” 

“You didn’t sleep at all?” Your tone was only concerned. It was absolutely maddening that you were so calm.

“Baby,” he paused. He was truly confused. “I don’t understand. How are you so...ok? Last night, you could have died. Weren’t you even scared?” 

You thought for a moment and answered honestly. “No.”

“Why not?”

You took Bucky’s face in your hands and looked him in the eyes. “Because.” You pulled him closer and gave him a long, firm kiss. “I was with you.” 

He rested his forehead against yours and chuckled softly in relief. “Goddamn, baby. You are one tough bitch.” His tone was pure awe.

You smiled. “Yes. And you are stuck with me.”  

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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[hanazuma-inactive]

Hey, thinking back to your “conversation” with the Kaminari anon, I got an idea.

Basically- Y/n (M! Reader) and Kaminari are having a competition at work, and the winner will get to top that night. The competition is pretty simple; at the end of the day, they will count up how many civilians they helped and how many villains they took down each. The one with the highest number, is the winner. The two had done this challenge quite a few times before, and Y/n had won almost every time due to Kaminari’s quirk’s side effect. But this time, Kaminari had made sure to prepare. He had trained with Bakugou to try and build his tolerance and had also gotten help from Kirishima to figure out which streets were busier and full of people during the day. And after convincing his boss to let him patrol that particular street, it had all worked out. He had won the competition, and what was waiting at home was a long night.. kinky-

Take your time and don’t rush it, Rei. Have a nice day/night! :>

lust games (nsfw), denki x reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: edging, flirty denki, vibrator, light bondage

a/n: i love denki sm ty for this request, this was also an amazing prompt

_____

pro hero chargebolt and h/n, always arriving at the scene just in time and occasionally a little late. the citizens could always depend on the couple to save the day with their amazing synergy and playful manner of defeating the villains. you and denki mostly patrolled near each other during work so the two of you usually help each other out when needed. or y'know, the blonde hero might casually stroll over to your area with a cup of coffee in his hand and lay a few flirtatious words on you.

"i'm winning today! and there's no doubt about it!" is a sentence you hear from your boyfriend almost every single day but never fulfilled his promise. he came close before but it never actually happened. this little game of yours started when the two of you started to lose motivation to work in general. knowing denki being the horn dog he is, you proposed this game. whoever helped the most civilians, or captured the most villains will get to top for that night. and ever since then, you've been winning everyday without fail, leaving denki as the bottom for the night.

he didn't mind as long as it was with you but a competition is a competition and he tries everyday to reverse what usually happens. little did you know today was the day it finally happened. denki had been training secretly by himself so that his quirk wouldn't overload himself as easily. it might also count a bit as cheating but he asked his friend, kirishima, to leak him all the locations near his area where civilians need help. in a way it's kind of sweet to think about all the things that he would do just for you. at the end of your patrols you tallied up the counts.

"56...57 and 58, how bout you denks?"

"56, 57, 58 and...59. i won! i won! you know what that means?! denki shouted and jumped in joy.

"alright alright! good job, i knew you could do it. i'll be waiting for what you have in store then~"

"oh just you wait baby boy, i'll give you the night of your life!" denki said while shooting finger guns at you.

you weren't expecting anything special, just usually what you do to denki but in return. what tricks could he have up his sleeves anyways right? you headed home with denki after that and enjoyed a hot bath and dinner together. you cooked denki's favorite hamburgers to reward him for doing so well at work today. the two of you watched some tv afterwards and relaxed in each other's arms, almost forgetting the big event for tonight.

"hey babeeee~" the blonde cooed in a flirting tone.

"hm? what's up."

"did you forget what i won today?"

"oh yah, you did win that huh. well, i'm ready for anything you're gonna do to me so…do your worst."

"with pleasure~"

denki picked you up with his arms bridal style and carried you inside the bedroom. he settled you down the bed and sat you up as he towered over you. not fazed by his actions you giggled a little at his attempt to top but it was still cute. your boyfriend gave you an angry pout and placed his lips onto yours. caressing you and stroking your arms gently while he was at it. you were usually rougher with him so it was a surprise to you how gentle he was.

the kiss ended with denki blushing and a smirk from you. despite all the preparations denki made he still gets flustered whenever he shares a kiss with you, it was adorable of course.

"a-alright! you won't be ready for this!"

"oh? let's see what you got, baby boy."

denki moved his lips down around your nipples. lifting your shirt up enough so that your abs and pink nipples are exposed, kaminari started to work on them. he was surprisingly well with his tongue. the blonde has been on his knees many times sucking your dick, but this was a different type of pleasure. it made you more sensitive than usual and you felt your cock start to rise inside your pants.

"wow~ look what we got here baby?"

you look down to see the bulge in your pants. unable to contain it any longer, denki took off your pants to reveal the cock that's been throbbing ever since he got started. he reached for your cock and started to stroke it while kissing your nipples. the stimulation from both below and above felt so good it didn't take long for you to start leaking some precum. seeing this, denki rubbed the tip of your cock and spread the precum onto the rest of your length for lubrication. he started to speed up his strokes and just when you were about to cum, denki stopped stroking your cock and focused on your nipples, making you orgasm from them instead.

the cum got all over your abs and some on denki's face. he gladly licked it all up and gave you a grin in return.

"just wait baby...if you felt good with that you won't be able to handle what comes next…"

you were a little scared of what denki was about to do next but excited at the same time. the blonde reached into the nightstand and grabbed a small rope to tie your hands up with.

"h-hey denks! what's this for?! you're kidding right!"

"ah uh uh~ this is to make sure you stay still for later hehe…"

you realized resistance was futile against your boyfriend and he had entire control over you right now. you let go of your defense and let him tie you up to the headboards. he reached into the night stand again to pull out an egg looking toy with a remote around it. you knew what it was but you didn't know when and how denki got his hands on it. denki placed it on the side and licked two of his fingers. lifting your legs up right after to prepare your asshole. he reached your prostate so fast and it felt amazing.

"f-fuck denki, right there...that's the spot o-oh fuck-"

"hehe~ these are just some tricks i learned by myself, glad to know it's making you feel good baby."

denki continued to loosen you until his fingers can enter and exit smoothly. it also wasn't a surprise your cock was hard again and dripping with precum. denki's eyes lit up seeing your hard cock and he grabbed the egg shaped toy he put out earlier. carefully, he strapped the toy to the tip of your cock and grabbed the remote control himself. he tested some different levels of vibration and found the right one judging from the volume of your moans. you started panting after denki finally settled down with the remote but you realized he wasn't done there. he won the game and he hasn't got what he wanted yet.

"alright baby boy! time for the main course, get ready for the night of your fucking life…"

denki took off his pants and stroked his cock a little. aligning the tip with your ass and slapping gently a few times before entering.

"oh fuck baby...didn't know you were this tight."

"hnngh…denki a-ah~"

denki struggled to fit in his entire length in your ass but managed after a few min. his cock immediately hitting your prostate and the vibrator on your dick getting you close.

"denki...please start moving, i want it…"

"you asked for it baby, here i go, hnngh!"

your boyfriend slowly started to move his hips, thrusting his cock into you again and again, deeper and deeper every time. you've never felt this type of pleasure before being the top and it left you speechless. it was a little painful at first but eventually felt heavenly. denki began to move faster because your moans became louder. his flirty attitude disappearing as he gasped for breathe in sync with you.

"f-fuck y/n, baby, i'm gonna cum soon, your ass feels too fucking good."

"please d-do, cum inside denki, cum inside!"

denki leaned over to you and connected his lips with yours while you wrapped your arms around his neck. his cock pumping cum into your ass while you came as well from his cock. both of you left breathless after the new experience you had. denki gave you a faint smile, glad to know you enjoyed it as you grabbed him back in for a kiss. leaning your foreheads together you two giggled, laughing at each other. he layed down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, you were pretty tired too so you let it slide today without cleaning up. denki snuggled into your back as you gave him one last kiss on his forehead before heading to bed.

[emmyhem]

stormy fears & feelings (l.r.h)

a/n: hey everyone! here’s “stormy fears & feelings”, this is a nonfamous au with roommate!luke. (unedited as usual) this was really fun to write, i intended for it to be short and sweet but i ended up writing for longer than i had originally planned. anyway, i hope you enjoy and are having a great day/night/whatever. i appreciate any and all feedback, and as always my messages are always if you want to chat or anything :) thank youuuu - emmy <33

pairing: roommate!luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: a thunderstorm leaves you awake and scared, and going to your standoffish roommate, who you happen to have an extremely inconvenient crush on for comfort may be your only option to get a good night of sleep. 

warning(s): cursing, extremely minor injury, minor angst if you squint

word count: 5k

It really was an awful idea. In any other case it wouldn’t have even crossed your mind, but you had been on edge all week for no specific reason and thunderstorms had always spooked you. 

The storm had started unexpectedly. If you had known earlier you would have ran to the store to buy Nyquil before going to bed, but with it sneaking up on you, you were huddled under your blankets, eyes squeezed impossibly tight in hopes to drown out the loud crashes and blinding flares of light flooding your bedroom window. 

When the thought originally passed through your head it was more of an internal sarcastic remark than a possible solution. 

 I mean, you had been living with your roommate, Luke for over 4 months now, but you weren’t really friends. You would occasionally chat with him if you were both up and about around the apartment, which was pretty rare seeing as Luke seemed to avoid you for the most part. Hurrying out of a room when you entered, ending conversations quickly, and always being conveniently busy when you had attempted to make plans to get to know each other better. Your living arrangement had only come to be because you had heard through a friend he was looking for a roommate at the same time that you had happened to be on the lookout for a new place. Your relationship consisted mainly of half-hearted greetings and subtle avoidances of each other. So, going to him for comfort wasn’t a viable option to soothe your nerves. 

Even if you did, what would you expect him to do? 

Sit up with you? No, not when you knew he had to wake up early for work. 

Talk you down? He wouldn’t even know what to say in the first place, your typical conversations were made up of checking if there was still coffee, or deciding whose turn it was to do the dishes. 

Offer up a space in his bed? Absolutely not. That was the most unthinkable of them all. If it wasn’t for the fact that Luke had always seemed pretty adamant with his personal space, sometimes tensing up if you even sat too close to him on the couch. Your annoying and inconvenient crush that had started the day you moved in, just wouldn’t allow the two of you to be in such close quarters without your heart racing and your head dizzying.  

It was out of the question, end of discussion. 

With that being said it only took one more boom of thunder to have you shoot up from your bed and pad quietly into the hallway, with fuzzy sock clad feet and a large quilt wrapped tightly around your shoulders. 

You stared at his bedroom door hesitantly until the next strike, during which you knocked ever so lightly and muttered a soft,

 “Luke,”

After a minute and no reply you resorted to giving up on your plan and heading to the kitchen to drink a cup of tea, in hopes it may help. The idea was good enough, but you had failed to consider the noise that comes along with it. And as if the whistling of the kettle and clattering of the mugs wasn’t enough, the next roar of thunder sent you into a shock causing you to stub your toe on the corner of the cabinet and let out a pained yelp. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth and sunk to the floor to assess the damage as you heard rustling and a door opening from the hall. 

Luke was in the kitchen in a matter of seconds, his long legs carrying him there within just a few steps. He hit a light switch, causing the kitchen to glow a dim yellow. 

“Y/n, you alright?” he grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he approached your crouched position on the floor. 

“Yea, yea I’m okay. Sorry, I woke you up.” you responded, mentally kicking yourself for causing such a disruption. 

“S’alright. What’s goin’ on? Why are you up?” he spoke, offering you a hand to pull yourself up. 

You accepted it, trying your hardest to ignore how warm it felt, and how easily it enveloped your own as you returned to your feet. 

“Uh, I just had a hankering for chamomile.” you lied. You really should’ve thought this through. Now that he was standing in front of you, admitting your fear of thunderstorms seemed daunting. You were an adult for chrissakes, an adult that was left shaking at the mere thought of a considerably common weather phenomenon.  

His eyebrows tugged in confusion as he glanced between you and the kettle. 

“Did you knock at my door a couple minutes ago?” he questioned as you watched the window over the sink nervously. 

Your eyebrows raised a bit at the inquiry.

“Thought I heard something, but then I figured I must’ve just imagined it. Y’know, woken myself up.” he continued. 

“Um, yep that was me.” you admitted, turning your back to him in hopes to hide your embarrassment. 

“So, was there a reason, or?” 

“Right, yea a reason.” you paused, searching for an excuse in your drowsy and distracted brain. “I wondered if you wanted a cup.” 

“In the middle of the night?” your subconscious deadpanned as your face scrunched in displeasure. 

You turned back around to face him, holding a mug out for him. 

Confusion and a glint of amusement was painted across his features as he spoke, 

“You wanted to know if I wanted a cup of tea,” he peeked at the clock behind you. “at 2:30 in the morning?” 

As you opened your mouth to defend your admittedly bad excuse another crash of thunder rumbled from the sky, causing your body to jump in fear and your hand to release its grip on the ceramic mug. Luke took a step back just in time as it shattered to pieces on the floor. 

You brought two shaky hands to your face and pressed yourself against the cabinet, cowering as far back as possible. 

“Hey, s’okay. It’s just thunder.” Luke said, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You peeked out through your hands before dropping them from your face all together. 

Realization sparked on his face as your eyes met his. 

“Are you afraid of thunderstorms?” Despite his tone being soft, sweet even, you were sure he was making fun of you. 

“I-uh, no. No I’m not.” you rushed out, attempting to push past him and scurry into your bedroom. 

“Y/n, the glass.” he warned, his grip on your shoulder tightened, not allowing you to move. 

“Was that why you knocked earlier?” 

You nodded, hesitantly your eyes dropping to the floor. 

“I don’t know why, I just- thunderstorms have freaked me out since I was little and I normally would take something to help me fall asleep, but I didn’t have anything and...I shouldn’t even have tried to wake you up in the first place, there’s nothing you could do and we aren’t even friends or anything. Probably don’t even like me, I mean you can hardly even stand to be in the same room as me. Anyways I’ll be fine, lemme clean this up and then i’ll just head to my ro-” you rambled, not even pausing to take a breath. 

“You think I don’t like you?” he interrupted. 

Fuck. Was the scare so intense oxygen had been cut off from your brain? Why would you say all that? He didn’t need to know that you took notice of the fact that he avoided your company like the plague. 

Instead of responding you opted for grabbing the dustpan, the sooner the floor was clean the sooner you could get back to your room. Where you would sit awake in fear, by yourself for the rest of the night, no doubt replaying this embarrassing interaction over and over again. 

Luke stood seemingly frozen as you kneeled down beside him attempting to gather the broken shards, which was proving to be difficult with such shaky hands. 

With another bolt of lightening your hand shuddered and slipped from the brush, hitting a shard and slicing a thin cut on the pad of your pointer finger. 

“Shit” you hissed, dropping the dustpan to examine the tiny gash. 

Luke’s head snapped in your direction, eyes immediately filling with concern. 

“Ow” you whined quietly. 

He dropped down next to you and took the finger into his hands. 

“You should clean this out, I’ll finish this up.” he nodded to the remaining glass. 

“I can get it.” you protested. “You should get to bed, you have to work tomorrow.” you continued, making your way to the sink. 

“So do you.” he responded flatly, already finishing up cleaning as you looked around for a band aid. When you finally located the box of bandages Luke was behind you. 

“Lemme see.” he said, taking one from the box while he examined your finger. 

You watched his face intently as he carefully wrapped your cut with squinted eyes and a small pout. 

You had never seen Luke during the night. There was a certain softness to him that was completely foreign to you, one that made the thought of cuddling into him seem far too appealing for your liking. 

“I do like you, y/n.” he broke you out of your thoughts, uttering it so quietly you thought you may have imagined it. 

You nodded in acknowledgement, not knowing how to respond without further embarrassing yourself. 

“I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t” 

At this point he had finished bandaging you up which made the fact that he was still standing a mere inches apart from you with his hand wrapped around yours, all the more affecting. 

“M’sorry I even brought it up, I’m just tired cause of the storm, and apparently I lose a filter with no sleep.”

His hand lightly squeezed yours as you spoke, and the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as he did so told you it was time to go back to your room. You gingerly tugged your hand away, ignoring the way Luke’s expression faltered when you did. 

“I’m sorry again, about all of this. You should get some sleep.” 

“Will you be able to?”

“I’ll be fine, one night of lost sleep is hardly the end of the world.” you responded, taking a step towards the hallway. Luke caught your arm before you got far. 

“Yea, but you lose your filter when you're tired, you said it yourself.” A small grin grew on his face as he continued. “Can’t have you spilling all your secrets tomorrow.” 

Was he joking around with you? 

Before you could stop it, a pleased smile appeared on your face. This was new. You didn’t even know he had a sense of humor, he had never attempted to share it with you before. 

“I’m sure I can control myself.” you returned, attempting to go once more. Of course, his voice stopped your movements within a second. 

“Y/n, let me help. How can I help?” 

The plausible reasoning for his sudden generosity was that he was feeling guilty or maybe even embarrassed that you were under the impression he didn’t like you. But that didn’t stop your entire body to warm at the offer. 

“There’s really not much to do.” you started. “I think the only reason I knocked in the first place is because I’m used to having some company when I get scared. Big family, y’know there was never a shortage of beds I could crawl into.” 

“Company!” he repeated, eyes lit up. “I can do that. I have it on very good authority that I’m an excellent cuddler.” 

Your body froze at his words. He couldn’t be serious, right? There’s no way he had any interest in that, even if it was just for your sake. 

He must’ve noticed your tenseness at the proposition because before you got a chance to respond, a bright red blush overtook his cheeks and he squeaked out, 

“Or the floor, I could always take the floor. I mean company can be just my presence in the room, I guess. If you want.” 

“No. I mean-um, I could go for a cuddle.” you heart answered before your brain got the chance to interfere. 

He smiled at you warmly. 

“Alright then.” 

You had never been into Luke’s room before, I mean not really. Sometimes you would sit his laptop in there if he had left it out or lay a sweatshirt of his on the foot of the bed but you had never actually been inside. It was slightly messy, there was a pile of clean, unfolded laundry on a desk chair, and a few empty water bottles scattered around but for the most part it was clean. On his bed the blankets were strewn about from where he must’ve been sleeping earlier, a pile of pillows stacked high on the right side, and it could’ve just been how tired you were but you had never wanted to crawl into a bed more. 

“I like your room.” you whispered, as he spread the pillows out more evenly across the top of the mattress. 

“Why’re we whispering?” 

“It’s nighttime.” 

“Y/n, we’re the only people who live here and we’re both awake.” he teased, laughing while shaking his head. 

“Oh, right.”

He gestured a hand to the bed, “Ladies first.” 

Hesitantly you sat, your back pressed against the mound of pillows Luke had compiled for you, shortly after he took a seat next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your legs. You looked down to your lap, aware of how awkward of a position the two of you were in, neither knowing how to go about this. Luke spoke first, 

“Are you warm enough?” 

“Yea, thanks.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

“M’pretty tired.” you replied. “We should probably just go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, right.” he nodded, watching you. 

It seemed he was waiting for you to get comfortable, like he didn’t want to push any boundaries that you weren’t ready to cross. 

Unsurely you scooted your body down in the bed till you were fully horizontal, took one more glance at Luke and then turned your back to him, pulling the duvet up over your shoulders. With his blanket pulled up just under your nose you subtly breathed in the pine and vanilla aroma that you recognized as his body wash. You’d never admit to it but occasionally you’d spend a little extra time in the shower inhaling the fresh scent. 

A dip in the mattress told you that Luke had laid down and within a few minutes you were sure he was sleeping again. You were feeling a bit more calm, trying your hardest to ignore every loud crash of thunder and instead focus on counting the seconds between each soft breath Luke exhaled. 

Just as a drowsy haze began to come over you, straining your eyelids and fogging up your brain a particularly alarming rumble broke the silence causing your body to jerk and your breath to catch. Luke grumbled quietly beside you and you could feel him rolling around. As you opened your mouth to apologize for waking him a warm hand slipped just under the hem of your shirt, rubbing soothing circles onto the bare skin of your hip. Your body tightened at the unexpected contact and you strained your neck to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Luke,”

“Go to sleep, m’right here.” he mumbled without even opening his eyes. 

You faced back around but placed a hand over his and removed it from your body. This must’ve worried Luke because he pushed himself up on his elbow, eyes blinking open as you turned to face him. 

“Was that not good? I’m sorry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” he rambled through a defense. 

“No,” you shushed, pressing a hand to his chest to lightly push him back down. “s’good.” you assured while pulling his arm over your body as you tucked yourself into his chest. Your bodies were completely flush in this new position. “This is better.” you murmured, your nose bumping his chest as you made yourself comfortable. 

He hummed softly in agreement, his hand finding its way to your hair, cupping the back of your head. 

Sleep was sweeping over you fast like this, the sound of Luke’s heartbeat drowning out any daunting noise coming from outside. Not to mention that anytime your body so much as twitched Luke’s arms would tighten around you ever so slightly as if to assure he was still there with you. 

When the sun had risen you woke up to the sound of soft snores, and the feeling of tiny puffs of air on your forehead. As you tried to roll over and stretch your limbs you found your legs were tangled with someone else’s and your cheek was practically glued to the faded grey cotton that adorned your roommate’s chest. 

“Luke.” you called, using your hand to shake him awake.

“Shh” he whined, repositioning you both so your back was snug against his chest. 

“We have work.” you mumbled, trying to squirm out of his hold. It proved ineffective as he just tightened his arms around your stomach. 

He grumbled something incoherently that sounded an awful lot like “No, stay with me please. So warm.” but that couldn’t have been it. Right? 

Afraid he would dig himself further into this hole of sleepy deliriousness, you began to rouse him, prying yourself out of his arms and promising him a hot cup of coffee if he met you in the kitchen within ten minutes. 

You quickly washed your face, brushed your hair and teeth and made your way to the kitchen to fix two cups of coffee. Luke stumbled out of his bedroom just a few minutes later, his eyes squinted under the natural light flooding the windows and he seemed to almost glide across the tile until you and his coffee were in arm’s reach. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” you greeted in a teasing tone, pushing the mug across the counter to him. 

He hummed and took two large sips before turning his attention fully to you. 

“G’morning, did you sleep okay?” 

“Yeah, I actually did.” you affirmed. “Thank you for everything last night, Luke.” you rested your hand over his on the countertop, squeezing it once lightly to express your gratitude. 

When you pulled it away Luke’s eyes lingered over where your hand had previously been before he dragged his gaze up to meet your eyes. 

He released a deep sigh before speaking, “Happy to help, I’m honestly glad the storm happened.” 

“Happy to see me scared shitless, are we Hemmings?” 

He laughed through a denial, leaning forward to press his forehead on your shoulder where your loose fitting shirt had slipped. 

Your posture straightened as your stomach tied itself in knots, each one tightening with every exhale that brushed your bare skin. 

“No, I’m just glad that we can finally y’know, be-” 

“Friends.” you cut off. Because that’s what you would be, you had to remind yourself. You wouldn’t have Luke’s bed to crawl into every night. You wouldn’t have his firm chest under your palms each morning, or his hands tangled in your hair. Especially not in the way you really wanted them. 

Luke pulled off of you like he had been electrically shocked. 

“Friends” he repeated, and if you weren’t so busy pitying yourself you may have heard the subtle lilt in his voice that caused the word to come out as more of a question than a statement. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, and as the minutes passed this interaction was starting to feel more like the ones you typically had with Luke. 

“We should get ready for work, you have to go soon.” he spoke up, already walking away. 

“We should do something tonight.” you suggested. This is what you were afraid of, you had grown attached already. “Maybe watch something or, I don’t know.” Anything to be near you again. 

“I won’t be home.” he clipped, closing his bedroom door behind him. 

It really was an awful idea.

You hurried through your morning routine, carefully selecting any time you had to leave your bedroom to avoid bumping into Luke. What had gone wrong? Had the word friends spooked him? If that was the case, what would he have done if he found out what you really wanted to say? 

Either way you left feeling confused and rejected, so quickly you didn’t even realise you had forgotten your car keys until you were on the sidewalk outside your complex. 

“Shit.” you cursed, turning on your heel and storming back in the building. 

Once you had expertly made your way back inside the apartment and retrieved your keys, being as quiet as humanly possible to not alert Luke to the fact that you had re-entered, you were halfway out the door when the utterance of your name froze your movements. 

“She just left for work.” 

Luke must’ve been on the phone, but why was he talking about you? Curiosity got the best of you and you quietly shut the door with you on the inside, work could wait. 

“Because, Cal that’s not what she wants.” he sighed.

He was talking to Calum? The only friend you shared, and the connection through which you got a room here in the first place. 

“She wants to be my friend and I can’t do that. Not with her.” 

“Why not?” you whispered to yourself, taking a step further inside to hear him better. 

“No, it’s not better than nothing at all. I can’t be her friend ‘cause anytime she’s near me all I can think about is kissing her.” 

Your stomach dropped at his words and a small gasp escaped your mouth. All the dots began adding up in your head. The avoiding? Well he had just explained that, and honestly it was the best excuse you’d ever heard. His behavior last night? You had caught him with his guard down, he was forced to let you in. His sudden annoyance at the word friends this morning? You had shot him down and you hadn’t even realized it. You liked Luke, and he actually liked you back.

“Actually, avoiding does work.” he continued, breaking you from your thoughts. 

You could hear the mumble of Calum’s response but unfortunately couldn’t make out any of the words. 

“Last night was an exception, she was all cute and scared. There’s no way I could’ve turned her away. I’ll go right back to avoiding, and things’ll go back to normal. Suffer in silence, I’m telling you it works.” 

That’s not what you wanted, not at all. The creak of floorboards alerted you to Luke’s approaching and you hastily snuck out the front door, your mind running through possible solutions the whole way to your car. 

Luke hadn’t lied when he said he wouldn’t be home, which meant he was taking this whole avoiding thing seriously. It was 1:30 am and you were still up waiting for him, your seat at the dining room table was losing its appeal as your back cramped in pain. The original plan you had concocted in the hours you spent daydreaming about him at work was to wait up for him, lure him into a movie night and make a move while the two of you were cuddled up on the couch. You hadn’t planned for him to be out this late though, and in all honesty you were starting to worry. You hoped he was just crashing at a friend’s, you hoped he wasn’t alone, you really hoped he wasn’t with another girl. 

Discouraged, you moved your pity party into your bedroom, flopping onto your bed and groaning loudly into a pillow. You rolled onto your back, wasting time by counting the blades of the ceiling fan in each slow rotation. 

You were at 231 in your counting when you heard the front door open followed by the clambering of footsteps. You perked up and angled your ear towards the hall. 

“Please be alone. Please be alone. Please be alone.” you repeated quietly to yourself as the steps got closer. From the light protruding the crack under your bedroom door, you saw the shadow of a figure approach. You held your breath in anticipation of the knock you figured was coming. A few minutes passed, nothing came, and soon enough the shadow disappeared and Luke retreated to his bedroom. 

You stared out your window and for the first time in your life found yourself hoping for a storm. The sky was clear, hardly a cloud in sight, and the moonlight was warm and prominent. It would look so pretty on Luke’s face right now, all soft eyes and drowsy expressions. 

It seemed a shame to sleep by yourself, he was just across the hall, the promise of his warm embrace taunting you. 

You huffed in exasperation and jumped to your feet, “Here goes nothing.” 

You didn’t bother being quiet as you advanced to his door, leaving three heavy knocks on the worn oak. 

You could hear him shuffling inside and then the intimidating creak of the hinges, revealing him to you. 

“Are you okay?” he questioned sluggishly, his body slumping against the door frame.

“Can I sleep in here?” you asked instead of answering. No time to waste here. 

“Um, it’s not storming?” 

“I know. Can I?”

“Is there a reason?” he breathed, his heavy eyes drifting down your face to land unabashedly on your lips, which you were chewing in anxiousness.

“I have a crush on you.” you blurted, causing him to shoot up from his languid lean. 

“What?” 

“I have this big stupid crush on you. I have ever since I moved in but I thought you hated me because you always avoided me, but now I know that you like me too and I don’t see the point in us sleeping in separate beds anymore.” you continued, your eyes glued to a dip in the hardwood floor. 

“How did you ev-” 

“I heard you on the phone with Calum earlier.” you interrupted to explain, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I swear I wasn’t spying or anything, I forgot my keys.” 

Without saying a word Luke stepped to the side allowing you entrance. You shuffled past him but didn’t make it far before his hand caught your forearm and smoothly tugged you a mere inches from him. 

He spoke through heavy breaths, eyes flitting to your own as you faced him for the first time since your declaration. 

“You like me?” 

You could only nod, your brain completely fogged by the close proximity. 

His eyes fell from your eyes to your now bitten lips, “Can I?” he sighed as his hand found your chin, thumb brushing the skin timidly. 

“Y-yea” you agreed, leaning into his touch. 

He closed the gap between you with a gentle press of his lips, his hand slowly dragging up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake until it was tangled in your hair. As you relaxed into his hold his movements became more fervent, his tongue begging for entrance which you allowed when your mouth fell open with a flustered sigh. 

Luke stumbled backward dragging you along with him until the back of his calves met the foot of the bed and he dropped to sit on the edge, you standing between his legs. You pulled apart to breath and he spoke raggedly, 

“My heart…” he trailed off catching his breath. 

“What?” you muttered. 

“Feel it.” he continued, taking your hand and pressing it to his heart which you could feel thumping rapidly through the warmth of his skin. 

You laid your forehead against the top of his head, moving both of your hands to your own chest. 

“Me too.”

He tugged on your sweatshirt until you were seated securely on his knee, his hands grasping at your waist. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” he drawled before he began alternating pecks, and light nibbles down your neck until he reached the spot he could feel your pulse thrumming from. He lets his lips rest there for a while and reveled in the fact that you were just as affected as him. He pulled away when you spoke up.

“Where were you tonight?”

“Moped around Calum’s place until he kicked me out, told me I needed to deal with my shit.” he answered, the hand he was resting on your upper thigh caressing the skin through your pajama pants.

“I heard you outside my door earlier.” you admitted leaning into his side. 

“I came home with every intention of telling you but I chickened out.”

“What would you have told me?” you wondered aloud. 

“That I like you, and that last night was amazing. That I don’t want to sleep without you again if I don’t have to.” 

Luke took notice of the fact that your eyelids were drooping as he talked and began to scoot you both back in the bed as he continued.

He watched in awe as you curled into his side. 

“Up for a breakfast date tomorrow, love?” he asked, pulling the blanket over you both. 

“Yes, please.” you agreed, laying your palm flat against the warmth radiating from his stomach. 

“So what should we do with your room?” Luke said drowsily, sleep beginning to creep up on him as well.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you won’t be needing it anymore since you’re moving in here.” he comments casually, pushing your hair out of your face with soft movements.

You laugh lightly but it’s drowned by the yawn that slips out when you respond. 

“In your dreams, Hemmings.” 

“If I’m lucky.” he replied, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “Goodnight y/n.” 

“Night, Lu.”