#I’ve been planning this pattern for weeks bc I couldn’t find a pattern out there

[badolmen]

Started knitting a kufiya pattern piece (solid bars, olive leaves, fishnet) and I’m actually really happy with how it’s coming out so far :]

Very early progress pics below cut - excuse my pyjamas

[firefly-moon]

Pajama Party.

Oikawa Tooru X Reader

Your boyfriend had completely forgotten about your little pj party you two had planned , and once he came home to find you asleep on the couch he realized how much he loved you and how much he regretted missing it.

CW: hurt to comfort? Lowkey cliche, but sometimes they the best stories. I kinda wrote this one on a whim bc I just got a new onesie. Uhm. Crying? Barely edited even if our drama queen king deserves better writing😔😕

It had been the third time that you had to wait up for your boyfriend Tooru to get home. Three times in just this month in where he had skipped out your pajama parties.

Sure you were both busy adults, but these small things were events you had looked forward to at the end of every stressful work week. You had certain pajamas that you would put on and sit on the couch to set up y’all’s stay at home date night.

But three nights he had missed had been three too many. Every time Oikawa would arrive home in the dead hours of the night, he would se you cuddled into yourself on the couch. Tonight was no different.

You had found yourself a brand new onesie you wanted to show off tonight. It was a simple bear one, but nonetheless you loved it. Yet, you couldn’t. Tooru didn’t place his keys in the lock until you had fallen asleep.

Of course you didn’t want to make a big deal of him missing your small at home dates but it really didn’t sit right with you. Instead of being in Tooru’s arms, you would find yourself with a pillow on your lap with a bowl of ice cream and a stupid movie playing. You wouldn’t say anything because you knew how busy he was with volleyball and with the team.

Tooru made his way into your shared living room to find your sleeping figure wrapped up in a onesie and a small blanket. A frown had begun to form on his face. He had forgotten -again- that tonight was a pajama party. He stayed out late in the gym trying to get everything perfect.

He knows that can’t be an excuse. It’s a stupid excuse. Even if volleyball had always been first in his life, you had replaced not to long ago. He was falling into his old patterns again and he could tell it was affecting you. If Oikawa was anything, he was observant.

Loving him has never been easy. Never. And he knew that. He knew how egotistical he was, how obsessed he’d get with being perfect, and of course he knew how hard it was to just be around him in general some days.

Yet, you stuck through every day with him. The good and the bad. And here he was looking down at your cute figure as you slept without even giving anything back to you. The thought put tears in his eyes. He knew you could do so much better but here you were, after him missing three date nights, waiting for him.

He shrugged off his bag and walked into the shared bedroom. He threw on one of his onesies and went back to the living room. At this point you’d woken up from some of the noise and was lightly rubbing your eyes and reaching for the remote to turn the TV off. You hadn’t noticed Tooru yet.

“Darling?” He weakly called out, barely trusting his voice.

“Hm..?” You blinked back your sleep and gave him a tired smile. “Hi, Ru’..” you yawned and got up to give him a hug. At this point, Oikawa was crying. You were to good to him.

“Tooru? What’s wrong?” You felt him shaking underneath you and saw he was crying.

“I’m so sorry… I’ve skipped our dates and came home late and-“ you cut him off with a small peck to his cheek.

“It’s ok.. I know you’re busy and it does upset me, but I’m also proud you’re doing your best. Just don’t skip anymore..” you snuggled closer to him in the hug which just made him cry more. “Ru’ you’re such a crybaby.”

“Shut up Y/N,” he sniffled against your head. “Can we cuddle now..?” He barely whispered the question.

“Of course. Let’s go to bed and have our pajama party tomorrow.”

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 7: Green Light

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[masterlist]

note: i don’t know why i can’t edit chapter 6 so hopefully you reach this chapter

2 weeks.

2 weeks have passed ever since that night Yuta walked you home, the same night that you and Kuroo got into the biggest fight you’ve ever had. The doors were slammed, the remote of the TV flew from one wall to another, your voices were on top of your lungs.

Kuroo threw words he shouldn’t have, like accusing you of cheating on him. You even went on your knees just to prove to him that you didn’t. Apology after apology. You didn’t even know why you were asking for forgiveness when you did nothing wrong. He told you to leave, you should have, but you didn’t. You couldn’t leave him. You love him way too much even if he does you so wrong.

Kuroo has all red lights turn into green and you let him drive you insane.

But you’re getting tired of the ride that doesn’t have a destination.

——————————————————————————

“Just go see (Y/N) at her office,” Kenma tells Kuroo as the two are looking over files. “My secretary and her secretary are friends. I can ask for her schedule if you want.”

“Why would I?” Kuroo scoffs confidently and his friend deadpans at him. “What? It’s not like I miss her or something.”

“You’ve been writing her name and scratching over it like a teenager going through a heartbreak. I thought the two of you made up already?” Kenma rebuts and the raven head pouts.

“We did.” Kuroo continues to read the document, trying his best not to get distracted by invasive thoughts of you. ‘But she isn’t chasing after me like she used to.’

You really have been different. Yes, you still message him and act sweet around him, but it seems like you’re forcing your actions, especially sex. Whenever you have time to go home, you two only do the deed, then sleep, and then he wakes up to an empty bed again.

Sex is good, great even. Kuroo loves doing it with you. But it isn’t enough. When was the last time you went on a date? Or ate a meal together? Or talked about your days? When was the last time you told him you love him?

“So why are you moping around?”

‘Because I miss her,’ Kuroo’s inside thought speaks in volume. He really does miss you but he can’t say it out loud. “I don’t know man. I guess because of work.”

“But aren’t you here with me because you barely have work to do?” Kenma says in an almost teasing tone. Kuroo just rolls his eyes and ignores his friend. Oh how the tables have suddenly turned. Kenma is the one teasing him now.

Kenma then realizes that Kuroo has finally started caring about you.

Kuroo arrives at your workplace earlier than your meeting time because he’s that excited to see you. He even bought flowers for you and pastries for your workmates. It’s his way for thanking them for taking care of you at your work. Also, it’s to let them know that you’re together so they stop shipping you with other people.

“Oh, Kuroo, you’re here,” Terushima greets him as they meet in the lobby. “(Y/N) has an emergency photoshoot today so I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Photoshoot for what?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow as he follows Terushima inside the studio of your office. There are big lighting equipments, a huge white backdrop in the room, and a lot of wedding dresses.

“For our wedding dresses catalogue. Usually, Alisa does it but she’s sick today so (Y/N) has to take her place,” Terushima explains and Kuroo nods in comprehension. “I think she’s preparing for the last dress already so you don’t have to wait long for her to finish.”

Terushima gives Kuroo a chair he can sit on and directs him to a spot where he can see you while you shoot. While waiting for you, he hands out goodies to your coworkers, bowing and thanking each one of them.

Not long after, you come out in a white tulle ball gown with white flower petals on the bodice and ends of the dress. Your hair and makeup done bridal style: subtle, elegant and will surely take the groom’s breath away. Kuroo doesn’t know why but his breathing pattern suddenly changes and his heart beat picks up a rather speedy pace.

You literally and figuratively took his breath away.

‘I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack,’ Kuroo thinks without knowing that he has a sweet smile on his face. His eyes are staring at you in admiration, maybe even in a loving way. You just look too gorgeous in that dress it makes him wonder what you’d wear in your wedding if you even had one.

Come to think of it, what would you like your whole wedding to be?

The man is getting flustered just thinking about your wedding day. You’ll have one soon, right? It’s working out for the two of you so there definitely will be one. Or so he thinks that it’s working out for the two of you.

“Kuroo?”

“Kuroo.”

“Kuroo!”

“Yes?” Kuroo finally snaps out of his thoughts and sees Terushima smirking at him. “What?”

“You’re staring too much,” the blonde chuckles. He expects Kuroo to deny it and such so he gets shock when the raven states...

“Why wouldn’t I? My wife looks mesmerizing.” Kuroo continues to watch your shoot, his attention only on you and no one else. You finally see him, so you flash him a sweet smile and flirty wink before focusing back to your work.

Kuroo giggles with a blushing face which causes Terushima to laugh at his reaction. Terushima teases him so he hits Terushuma, telling the blonde to stop teasing him. “You are such a simp!”

The two of them are having butterflies in their stomachs because they’re lowkey like teenage girls, giggling and whispering to each other with blushes on their face, talking about the love of their life. If you’re looking from a far, you would never know what they are talking about.

The shoot finally ends and your secretary tells Kuroo to wait for you at your office. He does as told and roams around your workplace while he waits. He finds your little bedroom and sees some of your belongings in there. It must be where you sleep when you finish work when trains stop operating for the day.

Kuroo hears your door open so he gets out of the tiny room and skips to you, hugging you tightly in the middle of the room. He takes a look at your face and then tackles it with kisses, enabling you start a proper conversation.

“I missed you.”

Kiss.

“I missed you.”

Kiss.

“I missed you so much.”

Kiss.

“Tetsu, love,” you call him out in between giggles, your hands trying to cup his cheeks for him to stop, but he captures your lips with his first. Your eyes flutter close and give into his actions.

“You looked so beautiful in that dress, my love. Makes me wanna marry you again.”

You’re supposed to be happy hearing his words. Your heart should be jumping out of your rib cage by now. So why can you feel yourself forcing a smile?

“Love, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Kuroo asks you, his arms snaking around your body, nuzzling his nose on the crook your neck. You just humm, eyes closed, fingers tangled into his hair.

“What’s your ideal wedding?”

Your lids shut open from his question. “All of a sudden?”

“I just got curious.” Kuroo shrugs, waiting for your answer. He’s ready to take mental notes and use it when you plan your wedding.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you answer honestly. Kuroo moves away from you and stares, not believing the words that came out of your mouth. “What? I always knew I was getting arranged so I never thought about having my own wedding.”

“You’re a wedding planner and you never dreamed about your own wedding?” Kuroo is skeptical about your statement and he also feels disappointed?

You’ve never thought about your wedding? As in the ‘you as the bride and him as the groom’ wedding? Has it really not passed your mind even just for a second? Because that was all he was thinking about when he saw you in that wedding dress and up to this moment.

“I just don’t see myself having my own wedding,” you explain, not sparing a glance at his disheartened face.

“Not even with me?” He says without thinking, which you look at him for. You examine his face and see how he genuinely looks discouraged about your words. Not understanding why is he so hurt about your words, you cock an eyebrow at him.

“We’re married.”

“But we haven’t had a wedding ceremony. I personally think it’ll be great to have one,” Kuroo says as if it’s not a big deal, but deep inside he is making a huge fuss about it. He’s indirectly proposing to you and if you turn it down, his heart will shatter to pieces.

“Let’s see after our trying period,” is all you responded. Your response breaks him. You haven’t decided if you’ll stay with him?

He can feel his chest tigthen and hand sweat. Why are you saying that when months ago you were speaking about how much you love him? Why are you saying that when weeks ago you were begging him to forgive you?

“Don’t you love me anymore?”

——————————————————————————

Facts:

The idea of signal lights was first used on railroads to prevent trains from colliding. These signals were then adapted all over the world and used in roads since it worked so well.

The original pattern was red for danger, green for caution, and white to go. However, since white could have been easily missed against a starry sky so then it was changed to the green, yellow, and red we know of now.

The first constructed roads date from about 4000 BC

Roman roads were often stone-paved.

The Pan-American Highway is the longest roadway in the world, spanning around 19,000 miles or 30,000 kilometers

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[hurricanery]

hurricane

A/N: shoutout to everyone that sent me song recs I'm feeling hella inspired and I’m gonna keep them in my inbox to come back to for future one shots! <3 credit to the anon that sent me this song...i wrote this so fast in my head and now it’s here! This is pretty amelia-centric but there’s a hint of amelink in here too, so hope u enjoy!

TW: implied drug use

also this is for @wordsxstars bc chloe ur my angst buddy forever !!

_______

I’m the violence in the pouring rain

I’m a hurricane

Come and fade me

Come and fade me

I’m a hurricane

_______

It rained the day she was born. Like really rained. It was the kind of torrential downpour that turned the whole sky a threateningly dark mix of indigo and grey.

Her Mother hadn’t planned for it. Hadn’t considered the impact that the weather would play on her child’s entrance into the world.

And she’d felt a lighthearted resentment towards this child, for deciding to push her way out at such an inconvenient time.

Because they’d sat in traffic.

Full of panic.

In the middle of a city-wide weather emergency.

“Leave it to baby number five,” her Mother had breathed through a contraction, hands gripping tightly to the cushions of the passenger seat. “To be born….during….a hurricane.”

“This hasn’t been classified as a hurricane yet, Carolyn-”

The glare she’d given her husband was enough to shut him up as she exhaled through the pressure of her contractions.

And she’d gripped the edges of the seat even tighter.

//

The same way Amelia does now, 18 years later.

Her fingers grip the edges of the seat, and her fingernails scratch over the fabric lightly, as she stares out the passenger side window.

It’s raining out. Not a downpour or anything. But steadily enough to trigger that feeling. That feeling that’s uncertain and nostalgic at the same time. Two practically opposite notions that crash together like the thunder that’s threatening the sky.

She hears Derek clear his throat, and her gaze snaps to his just in time.

Just in time for her to witness her brother’s eyes dart from her tightly-wound fingers to the road ahead as he drives.

She quickly moves her hands, on instinct. Burying them in her lap instead. There’s an overly-positive inflection to her brother’s tone as he speaks out into the space between them.

“I was nervous, too,” he laughs a bit under his breath, like he’s recalling a specific memory. “When I went away to school.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Disbelief flashes quickly across his face, but then he replaces it with something more soft. Like he’s deciding to give his younger sister the benefit of the doubt. Like he’s actually letting her have this one.

“Well, then….I’m impressed.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. And then she shivers involuntarily.

There’s something about being in an air-conditioned car, protected from the heat of the storm outside. It causes chills to rise through her body, despite it being the end of August. She turns in her seat, reaching towards the back of the car, to where all of her belongings are packed. Pulling out a crocheted blanket, she twists forward in her seat again and covers her bare legs with it.

She stares at the road ahead, finding patterns in the wet pavement, before she tentatively opens the conversation back up.

“Was Mom with you?” She utters the question, and she doesn’t let herself look in Derek’s direction. “Was Mom there to drop you off at college?”

It’s not until after she voices the question, that she realizes. Realizes that’s the thing that’s potentially been bothering her.

Derek sighs. And his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

“She was.”

Amelia nods.

This answer doesn’t surprise her. And it doesn’t hurt either. It’s mostly just numb acceptance at this point.

She finally turns to him, and she almost doesn’t recognize herself in her next question.

“It’s because I look like him, right?”

It’s the first time she’s comprehended it out loud. The weight of it hits her like a ton of bricks. The fact that it all comes back to that.

“Who?”

Amelia gives him an incredulous stare, her mouth forming in a tight line. It amplifies her refusal to feed into Derek’s decided lack of wit.

Because he knows what she’s asking.

And Derek knows that Amelia knows that.

Amelia refuses to blink. She lets her eyes become unfocused as she stubbornly holds her gaze.

Until Derek eventually nods, giving up.

“Amelia….” He sighs. “You look like me.” He turns briefly in her direction, like he’s hoping her stare will have faltered slightly at his explanation so far. But it hasn’t. She’s relentless sometimes.

He exhales a bit shakily before he continues, eyes shifting back to the road.

“You look like me….and you look like Dad, too.”

Amelia finally lets herself blink at that. Relief floods her dry eyes and her mind, too.

She turns back to the window, focusing instead on the world around them. Her eyes land on two particular raindrops against the window. And she smiles slightly as she watches them drop down towards the ledge. Like it’s a race to see which raindrop finishes first. Which raindrop will dip first into the crack of the window pane, where it’ll disappear forever.

//

It’s a game she played as a child, too.

She loved to watch the raindrops race against the plastic walls of her playhouse. In the quiet corner of her vast backyard.

It had rained on the day of her 6th birthday party. And Amelia had almost been glad for that.

Her Mother had talked it up the entire week.

“Saturday is Amy’s birthday!”

“Saturday is all about Amy!”

But it felt false to Amelia, even as a 6-year-old.

The forced element of the celebration. And the way her Mother had demanded her siblings participate, too.

But the party was cancelled. And Amelia instead found herself in her favorite place to be during a rainstorm. Surrounded by the yellow walls of her plastic playhouse.

Derek had found her that day. A smile playing at his lips as he ducked his wet head of hair into the window of her little hideaway.

“Whatcha thinkin about, Amy?”

//

“What are you thinking about?”

Amelia quickly shakes from her daze, abandoning the slight pride she’d just felt at her choice of raindrop winning the race against the car window.

She turns to Derek, and she even smiles a bit in his direction.

“I’m thinking about….starting over.”

“Starting over?!” Derek gives her one of his classic smiles. There’s an element of surprise to it, that lands in his eyes. But ultimately it’s laced with excitement, through and through. “Starting over is good.”

Amelia beams at him. It starts off small but she can feel the way it grows on her face. It’s the kind of grin that makes her cheeks dimple.

Derek shakes his head, laughing under his breath as he faces the road again.

“You know….no one wants you to start completely over, Amy.”

She raises her eyebrows at this, her grin transforming into more of a doubtful smirk at her brother’s words.

“Well I, for one, don’t want you to change.”

Amelia exhales a slight chuckle.

“I’ll try not to get rid of the good parts,” she mutters.

Derek is focused on the road in front of them, so all Amelia can really decipher, is his side profile. But she can see it. The hint of glassiness in his grey-blue orbs.

Silence falls between them, and Amelia feels a tightness form within her own throat. She attempts to clear it, tries to alleviate what the moment is turning out to be. But then Derek starts speaking again in a low tone, and the tightness spreads itself further.

“Dad would be so proud of you, you know.”

Amelia smiles tightly.

She only half believes that statement.

Because truthfully, she has no idea how she got here. How she managed to make it this far anyway. That realization hits her hard and fast and suddenly she doesn’t care that her eyes are stinging the same way Derek’s were a moment ago.

“I wish I remembered him better,” she admits, and her voice is notably thin.

Derek turns to her, his eyes filled with something Amelia can’t quite place.

“I feel like….” She continues, ignoring the way her voice wavers. “My idea of him comes from the pictures I’ve seen? If that makes sense? And I don’t have the actual memories anymore….I don’t….I wish I remembered what he was really like, you know? His voice, his mannerisms, everything-”

“I know what you mean.”

They exit the freeway, the car slowing at a stoplight as they enter the college town.

“You’re so like him in so many ways, Amelia.” Derek says it in a whispered tone, as they turn onto the main road. Like the comprehension is overwhelming to even him. “So….just like you said….don’t get rid of the good parts, okay?”

Amelia lets herself smile as she turns away from him, eyes scanning the surroundings of the town that will be her new home. The rain has died down significantly, and Amelia questions whether that’s an accurate observation, or if it’s just that they’re driving at a slower speed now.

“Okay,” she eventually responds.

//

“Are you okay?”

The question had come from Derek.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” Amelia had practically gasped upon slipping through the front door. She thought she’d been inconspicuous.

Derek stared at her expectantly.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.

“It’s pouring out. Did you walk?” There’d been criticism in his voice.

“You’d be more upset if I said I drove, right?”

“Amy.”

“Derek.”

They’d been at a standoff. In the middle of the entryway. Both of them seemingly unphased by the mix of mud and water that tracked all over their Mother’s favorite area rug.

Derek sighed. And Amelia stared at the floor. Unable to make eye contact, too aware that her eyes were hinted red and full of haze.

“Why didn’t you call me for a ride?”

“I didn’t know you’d still be here.” Her reply sounded bitter. But maybe it had just been the tightness in her jaw, the pressure from fighting off the wet and the cold.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“You missed Dad’s birthday dinner.” Derek’s tone had been accusatory again.

“Dad missed it, too.”

“Amelia-”

She’d cut Derek off with a bizarrely edged laugh.

Their Dad’s birthday dinner. They’d celebrate every year as a family. They’d sit down and have dinner together. And Amelia ultimately despised it. Mostly because they’d started grouping it together with her own birthday celebration. Her birthday followed a week after their Dad’s. And it just served as another reminder. Another reason for displaced resentment.

Amelia bit down on her laugh, stunned. She’d be turning 16 the following week.

“Amelia.” He said it again, this time more cautionary.

She finally looked at him. And she could see genuine concern in his expression.

“Are you okay?” He asked for a second time.

All Amelia could do was nod.

“Are you on your way out?” She whispered the question.

And then it was Derek’s turn to nod.

“I just wanted to say goodbye before I took back off to school,” he explained. “And I wanted to tell you happy birthday.”

Amelia smirked coldly at him, and finally started moving towards the stairs.

“Bye, Derek.”

//

2 years later and they’ve yet to improve this part.

It’s a rushed goodbye. Like it usually is for them. They don’t do goodbyes very well. Maybe that had something to do with shared past experiences.

Derek helps her set up her dorm room and when there’s nothing left to do, a knowing shift occurs in the atmosphere.

He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and forces a smile on his face. And when he pulls her into a tight hug, it takes Amelia a moment to reciprocate the gesture.

But Derek just squeezes her tighter until she does.

“You’re going to love it here, Amy,” he mumbles, before pulling away.

And Amelia just nods. Not able to find her words.

Because they’re bad at goodbyes. Which Derek knows. So he lets her off the hook, backs out of the small room with one last glance in her direction.

And Amelia watches him go.

//

Amelia doesn’t love it here, right away.

She tries to. She really does.

She sits in the shared common areas and convinces herself that maybe she’ll step up and talk to someone today.

It’s strange. She’s an outgoing person. She could be the life of the party when she really wanted to. But, she sits now, textbooks open in front of her, glancing around the library at fellow students. And she feels worlds beyond them. She questions to herself how she can even feel years beyond people her own age.

And that’s the self-inquiry that ruins her plan. She gets way too inside her own head and it hinders any chance she has at trying today.

Instead she gets up, shoving her books into her bag and walking purposefully to the exit.

It’s when she reaches her dorm, that the rain starts. She can smell it first. The distinct way the air changes when it’s about to rain. It feels humid and thick and her skin starts to feel sticky before the cold front lightly passes over her, and it provides relief.

The sky gets dark and it starts to sprinkle, just as she climbs the steps of her building.

As she enters her room, a dark cloud of restlessness storms her mind. Because she doesn’t know what her next move is. What her plan is for the rest of the day.

She looks around the small room, eyes catching on a piece of paper that’s been slipped under her door.

She picks it up, and when she reads the words on the flyer, she wants to laugh to herself. Because it simply lists an address for a party later tonight. And she’s laughing because, is this really how college works?

She decides there’s no way she’s going to the party.

//

After 2 hours of staring at the ugly off-white paneling of her dorm room ceiling, Amelia sits up in bed.

Because there’s a hint of it. A fleeting thought. A question that flashes through her mind almost too quickly to even divulge in.

But it’s there. The question of ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’

It’s enough to make her get out of bed. Which is confusing, to say the least. Because she hadn’t anticipated spending her evening this way. But now she’s pulling open her dresser drawers, trying to find something to wear. And she’s glancing at herself in the mirror, reaching for her makeup bag at the same time.

The last thing she remembers thinking, when she exits her dorm room is, what’s the worst that could happen?

//

The worst that could happen, happens almost right away.

It takes place in the form of ‘jungle juice.’

“It’s called jungle juice!”

Amelia stares blankly at the frat boy in front of her. She’s standing way too close to the bouncing speakers and the music is way too loud.

“What?!”

“Jungle juice!” He yells again, “Basically everyone brings a fifth of something and it all gets poured in there! It’s disgusting, but it makes for a dangerous concoction! Want me to grab you a cup?”

Amelia shakes her head. She doesn’t know what she was thinking.

Well, that’s not entirely true. She was thinking that she had to at least try. Give a shot at relating to people her age.

She surveys the boy in front of her. He’s attractive. Jet black hair, green eyes and even a slightly alternative vibe to him. It surprises Amelia, considering she’s in a frat house. He seems unexpected. And maybe her type. She’d probably go for him, if she wasn’t currently so inside her own head about it.

She feels her nails dig lightly into the palms of her hands as she drops her arms to the side, and she immediately catches herself. She exhales, trying to relax.

“I’ll grab something else, probably!” she yells back to the boy patiently standing in front of her.

Patiently, she thinks. Because she’s already a step ahead of him, labeling him, and she knows she’s someone that requires patience in events like these.

She shifts her eyes away from him, instead looking to the tiny window in the corner of the crowded room. It’s raining outside. Drops of condensation race against the glass in a familiar motion.

A feeling swells in her chest that’s hard to ignore. There’s a strong desire to escape her current environment and it practically makes her want to crawl out of her skin.

“I’m not supposed to be here!” She shouts over the music, turning back to the conversation.

“Huh?!”

“It’s raining!” She’s an octave louder this time.

“Yeah! It’s good we’re inside, right?!”

Amelia shakes her head, stepping away. Ignoring the confusion on the boy’s face, she turns on her heels, pushing through the crowd until she can find an exit. When she finally makes it out onto the less crowded porch, she lets out a huge exhale.

She keeps waking. The sun is setting, and the impending storm makes the sky a glorious shade of violet.

The rain pelts her skin as she walks hastily through the campus and although it provides relief, there’s also a sense of something else. It’s almost yearning. Or maybe homesickness. But it doesn’t make sense, because she’s never craved home before.

She thinks she’s crying. She can’t really tell. It’s hard to separate the rain from any potential saltiness that threatens her cheeks. The only thing that gives her away is her labored breathing.

She’s overwhelmed. And for once in her life she wishes Derek were here. He’d know the right thing to say.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a figure passes her on her left. It’s sudden. She doesn’t anticipate it and she doesn’t hear anyone approach, mostly because her thoughts are so loud and there’s thunder starting to rumble through the sky.

“Fuck,” she gasps, hand clutching her chest as the stranger passes her.

He’s running, but he slows his jog after she voices her alarm.

He turns around, taking in Amelia’s startled expression.

“Oh, sorry!” His own surprised guise shifts quickly to one of concern, though.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice raised to compensate for the rain as he calls out to her.

Amelia nods.

“You just scared me, is all,” she shrugs.

He looks her up and down, but Amelia doesn’t even feel scrutinized by it.

He steps towards her. And Amelia finds her voice.

“Out for a run?” She’s surprised by her own curiosity.

He shakes his head as he approaches. “I was walking back from the library,” he points to the sky, in an obvious gesture. “And then it started raining….and I started running….”

Amelia feels a smile break across her face, the dimpled kind. Because there’s something about the way he looks up at the sky while he explains himself, that amuses her.

He turns to her, and he has a wide grin on his face as he catches his breath from running. Not wide in the way that he’s smiling hugely, or anything. But Amelia can tell that his typical smile just happens to stretch that far. It makes her own smile further.

“You heading to north hall?”

Amelia nods.

“I live there, too!” He exclaims. “Food sucks but we have the biggest closets out of all the dorms on the entire campus.”

Amelia raises her eyebrows at this.

“Am I….bothering you?” His grin quickly fades. “God, I didn’t mean to just start….walking with you. Sorry, shit. You must think I’m some sort of-”

“You can walk with me,” she bites down on another smile. Because it’s the most she’s smiled in weeks and it feels foreign to her. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she peeks sideways at him. “As long as we don’t have to start running,” she adds with a laugh.

His smile returns. And they keep waking. The rain starts to die down a bit, but Amelia questions whether she’s imagined that. She can see the rain. And maybe she can hear it, too. But she can’t really feel it. Her focus has shifted.

“I’m Amelia, by the way.”

“Amelia?” He repeats her name, and there’s a spark of interest in his inflection, like he’s really doing his best to store that information.

She nods.

They reach north hall. The rain has come to a complete halt, and Amelia thinks it would almost feel sunny, if the sun hadn’t already set.

“It’s nice to meet you, Amelia. I’m Link.”

_______

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

What We Want and What We Can Have

Part Two- My Love, Don’t Fade Away

WHOOPS IT’S A PART TWO THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR (part one lives hither)!

Warnings: cannon-typical violence, angst, unresolved tension encroaching resolution, more of Ron and his big beautiful brain, Ron has like three feelings and you take up two of them, non-edited nonsense bc feelings don’t wait for approval

I listened to Reminder by Mumford and Sons as well as I Don’t Feel It Anymore by William Fitzsimmons. Let me know if any of you crazy kids are interested in my BoB heavy-feels writing playlist bc ya know i’ve got one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The grey smoke from the burning church stung your eyes, and as you feel your tears trickle down your cheeks you wonder if they are soot-stained as well. 

 Around you, you can hear the screams of bombs whistling through the air- the harmonizing shrieks of the wounded and dying ringing in your ears as you watch Gene running towards the smoldering building, but you can’t seem to do anything other than watch. You know you need to do something, anything to help the medic save the handful of people bursting through the smoke like ashen fireworks.  

Yet all you seem capable of doing is dumbly stare at the ruins of the makeshift hospital you’d just watched explode. 

 The makeshift hospital you had been tasked to watch over.

For weeks, you’d been monitoring intel reports for any sign that the Luftwaffe had been intending to bomb the town of Bastogne. Weeks of pouring over intercepted and forwarded information and maps and citizen chatter that you’d been so sure indicated that the town was safe from harm, that the air attacks would be solely focused on the woods. 

Yet here you were, standing in the heart of a bomb-pocked town with ice in your veins and a terrible hollow in your heart.

 You’d failed. You couldn’t have been more spectacularly wrong.

 The irony of your mistake ending in fire was not lost on you, and as your eyes danced up with the flames and plumes of smoke you were filled with the same helpless feeling that had found you after learning of the fate of your mother, sister, and brother-in-law all those months ago. Only this time, you had no one to blame but yourself.

 You had done this. You’d missed something and now all of those wounded soldiers and brave nurses and innocent people were dead and trapped.

 When Gene grabs your shoulders you nearly jump out of your skin, blinking for the first time in what felt like hours and forcing yourself to focus on the drawn face of your friend. Something in his eyes gives you the impression that he’s been trying to get your attention for a long time.

 “Y/N!” he shouts, using his grip on you to pull you back towards the jeep. “We have to go, we’ve gotta go back—”

 “I-I should stay,” you stammer, limbs feeling like lead as you stumble along stiffly. “I don’t think…”

 Gene, ignoring your quiet mumbling, all but shoves you into the car and takes your previous seat as driver.

 Eyes having drifted back to the smoldering church, you try again to get your fumbling mouth to work enough to speak.

 “Gene, I think—”

 “You’re not staying here, Y/N.”

The way he says it leaves no room for argument.

“Bet you don’t even realize that your face is bleeding like a stuck pig….”

 When you raise your hand to touch your cheek you feel that he’s right, you are bleeding- most likely from the initial blast of debris that had hit you when the bomb hit.

As Gene whips the jeep around to take off down the road, you feel the cool wind sting at your eyes, the air so drastically different from the smoke you’d just been breathing that it makes you lightheaded.

 “I killed them,” you murmur, despite the fact that you know Gene can’t hear you. “I killed them.”

 Gene is crying when you look over at him but you can’t find it in you to offer him any comfort. What would the point be? What could you possibly say when everything you’d just witnessed was a direct consequence of something you’d missed?

 Ron was wrong, you think to yourself as you look back to the rapidly approaching forest. It is better to feel nothing. I want to feel nothing.

 Almost as if all you had to do was think about it- a strange calm settles bitterly in your chest, joining the hollow that had been deepening each day since you’d seen Blithe get shot through the throat.

 Just as you’d wished, you slipped into the numbness of nothing.

 ~

 Ron was worried about you.

 No, he was more than worried. He was concerned...deeply concerned.

He had been for a while now- ever since you’d come back from a scouting mission with Blithe’s blood on your hands and a grim look of defeat marring your pretty face. He’d tried to talk to you about it, going as far as to pull you aside and wash the blood from your hands in hopes of getting you to open up privately- ignoring the confused looks of your superiors and his colleagues as he did so.

You had been, were worth any rumors that could come from his intentionally infrequent sign of humanity.

 But you’d given him nothing more than a weak smile and whisper of thanks before slipping away to find Nixon. It was like that moment in the attic had never happened.

 Seeing you come back from the town of Bastogne had shocked him, too. Not as much in terms of the blood pouring from the cut on your cheek, but in the absolutely dead look in your eyes he’d found when he had begun questioning you as to what had happened.

 “I was wrong,” you’d said emotionlessly, barely flinching when Spina had brought an alcohol-drenched rag to your wound. “I missed something, and now the town is gone.”

 Before he could even begin to think of a reply, Spina had asked him to help get you to CP so the other officers could figure out the next course of action. And once he had, you’d had no more to say.

 That night, Ron had poured over the information you’d been given concerning Bastogne, glaring at Nixon until the other man had relented and reluctantly given him the small wooden box you kept your reports in. You hadn’t ‘missed’ anything- there had been nothing to indicate any sort of attack to the town for you to miss. You had done nothing wrong.

 Not that he’d be able to convince you of that. Ron knew you well enough by now to know that your stubbornness could rival his own if you indulge yourself in it enough. He’d learned that long ago in Georgia upon meeting you, that you had not gotten here by accident or through any sort of familial connection- but rather by sheer determination and steadfastness and unapologetic bullheadedness, not to mention a natural gift for finding patterns in behaviors and translating them into strategy.

Watching you work, then and now, had been nothing short of marvelous. 

 But this wasn’t you. This heartbroken husk of you that he had been seeing now made his already frozen body feel even colder.

 Ron needed you back.

 Unbeknownst to you (and initially to him as well), you’d become the reason he fought. At first, it had been a more practical explanation: you worked tirelessly to secure the information needed to build strategies and he felt the need to reward that hard work with his own successful execution of the plans you’d made. Then, upon completing the task, you would come in and use any of the information you found to build the next strategy. It had been transactional, an exchange of services that helped the both of you work towards the mutual goal of winning the war.

It was simple.

 There was no real event to precede his shift in perspective. One day you’d been Y/N and the next you were Y/N. He’d nearly said as much in the attic, when your eyes had burned him alive with their curious sincerity and your heart had called to him so sweetly he’d nearly kissed you. 

 Seeing you now, blinking slowly in the warm candlelight while the voices of the choir wrapped around everyone like a thick blanket, Ron wondered if he should’ve kissed you.

He wonders if, by doing so, he could’ve somehow stopped you from getting to this point.

 You hadn’t been at the frontlines earlier that day for the siege of Foy, yet you looked just as drained as every other man in the company who had. Even with his heavy jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers still trembled as you picked at the dirt beneath your nails, making him wonder if you were shaking from something else other than the cold.

 You startle slightly as he reaches over and places his hand over yours, head quickly turning to look at him and the tiniest dust of pink coloring your cheeks when you realized how close your face was to his. Almost as if you’d forgotten that he was sitting beside you in the pew, that only an hour ago he’d forced you to accept his coat while he scribbled out the names of the men now under his command onto some paper he’d asked one of the sisters for earlier. He hadn’t bothered writing your name- you were not like all of the others, you weren’t something to oversee and keep in order.

And as far as Ron was concerned, you’d been connected to him since D-Day. 

 He didn’t need a note to remember that.

 A shy, small smile turns your lips up at the corners- the action not seeming to quite reach your eyes but Ron felt the sincerity in it all the same. Flickering your gaze back down to his hand resting over yours, he watches as you hook your thumb over his small finger, pleased at the warmth he feels as you momentarily play with the silver ring he always wore there.  Watching your profile, he only takes his hand away when you return your attention to the young girls in front of the altar, allowing his gaze to linger on you for a few moments before turning back to his list.

 Feeling another set of eyes on him, he looks up and catches Lipton looking over his shoulder at the exchange. The other man quickly turns back upon being caught, and Ron studies the back of the other man’s head for a few moments before making up his mind.

 “Y/N,” Ron says quietly, tilting his head towards the door of the church once your eyes find his again, standing and rolling his sore shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at your billet on my way to Battalion.”

 The offer seemed to surprise Lipton, but you take a deep breath and nod shortly.

 “Alright,” you say softly, “let me go return Luz’s lighter and I’ll meet you at the door?”

As he nods, you stand up carefully and side-step in front of Ron out of the pew, meeting Lipton’s smile with a weak one of your own as you give the man’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

 “Night, Car.”

 Lipton pats her hand affectionately and then you’re striding over to the pews where Luz, Liebgott, Randleman, and Heffron have set up camp.

Ron watches you go as he loads his gear back on, once again feeling Lipton staring at him. There’s a familiarity in the way Lipton is looking at him- it’s a look everyone seems to send his way, ever since Donald Malarkey started the rumor on D-Day.

 “You wanna ask me, don’t you?” Ron asks, watching the other man fidget.

 “Ask you what, sir?”

 “You wanna know if they’re true or not,” he clarifies, sizing the other man up. “The stories about me?”

 Lip said nothing, and when Ron looked over his shoulder at the man he saw that Lip was looking away. The man amused him, to say the least. The man’s bravery was starting to show in ways that filled Ron with every confidence in him- glad to have a Lieutenant with a backbone in his newly appointed Company.

 “Ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they hear it from someone who was there, and then when you ask that person they say they heard it from someone who was there?” Ron steps from the pew to stand before Lipton. 

“There’s nothing to ‘em, really. I bet if you went back 2000 years you’d hear a couple Centurions standing around yacking about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”

 Lipton seemed to consider that for a moment before replying. 

“Well, maybe they kept talking about it because they never heard Tertius deny it.”

 Slinging his gun over his shoulder, Ron lets a smirk show on his face and squares his shoulders. “Well, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value in the men thinking he was the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole Roman Legion.” 

 When Ron looks over to where you are, he is glad to see that some of the tension in your posture has lessened. He can hear you mumble something that amuses Luz and Bull to no end, unable to help but feel a tinge of sadness at the fact that you’ve still got that hollow look in your eyes.

 “If I may speak freely, Sir?” Lipton says, breaking Ron from his trance and allowing him to look back to the other man. When he nods, the new Lieutenant dips his head indicatively in your direction.

“I’m worried about her….a lot of us are, Sir.”

 Ron keeps his expression neutral, nodding at the comment.

“Is there a question in there, Lipton?”

 A grimace crosses Lip’s face as he seems to ponder his words carefully. 

“No, Sir. It’s more of an observation, if anything.”

 “Go ahead.”

 “I know that, technically, Captain Nixon is meant to be her immediate supervisor,” Lipton says with a bit more confidence. “But I worry that he’s been, er….neglecting some of his responsibilities in favor of more cathartic activities….”

He cuts himself off, looking from side to side quickly before lowering his voice.

“Captain Nixon has been passing the brunt of the analysis work to Captain Y/L/N, if not ignoring it entirely. And, as great an officer as Y/N is, Sir—”

 “I understand, Lieutenant,” Ron interrupts Lipton just shy of insubordination, giving the confused man a nod before realizing that he’s unintentionally called the other man by his new title. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. You were right to do so.”

 After informing Lipton of his promotion, Ron quickly turns on his heel and makes eye contact with you once more. As you fall in to step with him through the doorway of the church, Ron processes the new information he’s been given.

 While he’d never really liked Lewis Nixon, this revelation has only solidified his stance on the man. It was one thing to drink on the job and still be productive- whatever arrangement this was was unacceptable. 

 Your hand is soft in his as he takes it, the fumble in your stride telling him that you hadn’t been expecting him to do so. But you still don’t let go, you still follow him past Battalion and you offer no resistance when he guides you inside of the small cottage you’d been assigned to.

 When Ron gently takes your face in his hands, your eyes flicker down to his mouth before he even begins to speak.

 “Do you remember what you asked me in the attic, a few months ago? About what I cared about?”

 You nod slowly, and as your gaze meets his he could swear that you’re about to burn him to ask once more. You seem to lean into his touch, and while there is still caution in your eyes he thinks he may also see a flicker of intrigue in your irises as well.

 “Things you can’t have. Things you shouldn’t care about.”

 You say it as if you didn’t need to think about it very hard to remember- something that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

 “You, you know that I was talking about you.”

 Then, you do something that Ron will never forget.

 You smile.

And this time, it reaches your eyes.

~ ~ ~ (*looks over at all the homework/chores I’ve neglected in favor of writing this* WHOOPS

BUT FOR REAL HERE WE BE AGAIN. HOPE I DIDN’T DEPRESS Y’ALL TOO MUCH BC I KEEP DOING THAT WITHOUT INTENDING TO OK LOVE YOU BYE )

taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[wellthatjusthappend]

hey do you think you can write something where Dick is touch starved bc the members of the batfamily are not that into giving or receiving comforting touch like hugs so he's feeling awful and acting kind of distant with the other bats bc he doesn't really want to bug them by asking for a hug and it's Jason that notices something is wrong and ends up giving it to him

Dick being touch starved is my jam. Especially when I get to give him what he needs. 

Man, this prompt got away from me a little, I meant to do a small fill but, well, now you can read it here or on Ao3.

--

“What the hell is going on with Dickhead?” Jason grumbled. He’d totally cashed Jason’s case recently, and nearly bit off Jason’s head when he made a sarcastic quip. 

Usually, that meant that something had happened, but Jason had dug around after hadn’t found anything other than a slow and steady escalation of violence the last several weeks. Seemingly from no cause. 

There had to be something Jason was missing. Not that he cared or anything, but if Golden Boy was falling off the edge he needed to get ready. Or maybe he was just being nosy. Both were Bruce approved approaches. 

Jason frowned as on screen Dick let several punches land that he could have avoided and choose to punch back rather than use his sticks. 

“Ah, Dick is fasting again?” hummed Kori, coming to curl up next to Jason like a cat, her hair winding and winding itself around them in a way that still a little uncanny as it was soothing. 

“Fasting?” Jason asked with a frown, “Like, skipping meals and stuff?” 

“From love,” Kori corrected him, “and from touch. He needs it like food, but sometimes he chooses to deprive himself of both for long periods of time. He would get like this from time to time as a Titian. Quick to pick a fight and extra physical when he did… violence is the only touch he allows himself during this time, so he seeks it out constantly.”

That… tracked. 

“Yeah… Bruce would have us believe that none of us needed things like that,” Jason murmured, watching Dick wrestle another small time crook to the ground and punching him repeatedly. 

“But you know better now, don’t you?”

Sometimes. But other times… Jason could sympathize with Dick’s plight a little too easily, and physical touch wasn’t even his love language.

“How’d you used to get him to snap out of it?” Jason asked. 

“Make love to him all night long,” Kori replied, her eyes going distant. 

“Ah.” Jason knew he was flushing a bit. 

“Or, sometimes Wally or the others would insist on a movie night and coax him into a spot close between everyone’s bodies,” Kori said, a faint, sad smile on her face. 

That was probably no little feat when Dick was hellbent on acting like a mini Bruce. 

“Sounds nice,” he said, rather than unload all the mean and bitter commentary in his head. It wasn’t like he had someone to do that for him back then. 

“This is nice too,” Kori rested her head on his shoulder, “with you and Roy.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

*****

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it as the week went on. How he ever ended up with nonviolent touch in his life and Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t know. 

Maybe that was why he was outside Dick’s doorstep now. 

“What?” Dick answered his door. He looked terrible; dark shadows under his eyes, his skin a little pasty. 

“No hello? I’m hurt Dickiebird.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” Dick said, already looking annoyed. 

Jason wished he knew.

“Brought over some extra food. You look like you haven’t had anything but takeout in a while, so…. You want it?” Jason held up the bag to show him.

“You brought food,” Dick stated, looking suspicious, “Why?”

“I just said I made extra, keep up Dickhead,” Jason shot back.

He was no good at this. He should have just bothered Wally into visiting. Someone who could get away with a casual hug.

Jason was not much of a hugger, casual or otherwise. He wasn’t too touchy-feely in general and he didn’t know why he was there… but since he was there he wasn’t going to be driven away so easily. 

“Did Bruce send you here?” Dick demanded. 

“Bold of you to think Bruce can make me do anything,” Jason retorted.

Dick seemed to accept that. As he should. 

“Fine, whatever, just… you didn’t drug it, right?” Dick asked as he moved out of the way and let Jason inside.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Alfred? If I was gonna drug you, I would slip it into your delivery, not some home cooked meal,” Jason scoffed.

It was really messy. It made Jason’s fingers itch for some cleaning supplies, but that wasn’t why he was there.

“Home cooked?” Dick’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Curry,” Jason said, pulling out the containers from the bag in the little spot on the table not covered in case files, “I always thought it tasted better the day after anyway.”

“Did you make this?” Dick hesitantly came over, curiosity seeming to win out over defensive aggression.  

“Who else would have?” Jason rolled his eyes, “here, heat this up will you?”

He passed over a container of rice. Their fingers brushed and Dick’s hand spasmed for a moment. 

Jason didn’t comment. He knew what that was like. Going so long without any kind of touch that the slightest brush of skin felt like getting electrocuted. 

“Why me?” Dick asked, hurriedly turning his back to him and fiddling with the microwave.

Because you need it. 

“Oh, you know, if your ass gets any skinnier, the community will collapse on itself. Can’t have that,” Jason said breezily instead. 

“What a saint.” 

“Right? They should put me up in the little chapel on 5th St. I’ve already died and everything, I’m totally qualified,” Jason said, then changed the subject, “You have a toaster oven?”

“Why would I have a toaster oven?” Dick grumbled. 

“Because they’re damn useful? Never mind, I’ll just use the oven,” Jason said, nudging Dick out of the way so he could reach the nobs. It wouldn’t need too much, it was just to lightly heat the naan. 

“Are you eating here too?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“Might as well, it’s dinner time,” Jason shrugged. 

Dick didn’t say anything to that. This time when Jason passed him the next container to heat, he didn’t flinch when their hands met, but he pulled away much more hesitantly. 

This part felt a little unnatural for Jason, because he… didn’t really let people touch him who weren’t super close to him. And he and Dick- they just weren’t. It wasn’t bad, per-say, just decidedly uncomfortable. 

He wasn’t planning to let that show though. 

Jason bullied Dick into bantering with him as they prepped the rest of the food, all the while finding reasons to brush up against him. Let their hips touch when he checked the heat on the food, a hand on Dick’s arm to move him out of the way to open the oven, steading his hands as he stacked plates and utensils into his arms. 

Dick was mostly past the shockieness and onto the needy phase by the time they got to actually eating the food. It felt a little manipulative to sit down right next to him on the couch while they ate so their legs and arms could casually brush every now and then. 

The nice thing was that Jason didn’t have to initiate anymore. Now that Dick had figured out that he wasn’t going to be pushed away and that Jason was pretending not to notice, he was pressing close with every possible excuse. As he did, he chattered away about this and that, a slight nervous jiggle of his leg. 

It was strange, like watching someone slowly come alive again. Like a dry plant perking up at the first taste of water. Jason wanted to somehow give him even more, but he didn’t know how. So he just stayed close.

Dick didn’t ask him to leave when they finished their food, so he didn’t. 

Jason turned on the TV.

It was funny, Dick’s commentary slowly started to die down as his eyes started to drupe. 

“Maybe I really should have drugged you food, when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Jason noted, reaching over to touch his forehead. He was a little warm, but not too bad. 

“When’s the last time you did?” Dick shot back, but his eyes dropped closed under his hand and he didn’t push him away. 

It felt a little too intimate for Jason though, so he pulled away. Dick swayed forward a little when he moved, like a part of him want to chase his touch. 

He probably did. 

Jason looked away and shrugged, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Sleep. Right. 

“I actually do these days, Roy or Kori kick my butt if I don’t,” he said. 

“They take good care of you,” Dick said softly. 

“They do,” Jason agreed, his chest feeling a little warm at the thought. 

“Good,” Dick said, his expression distant as he turned back to the TV. 

Jason wondered if he missed them, but didn’t ask. Dick couldn’t have burned those bridges any better if he’d tried. 

They watched TV silently for a while, Dick’s finger tracing patterns on his own leg, back and forth and back and forth. 

Jason felt an impulse to grab his hand, but pushed it down. That wasn’t them. Roy and Kori must have been rubbing off on him. 

When Dick’s motions stopped, Jason glanced over and snickered when he found that he had dozed off. When he started to tip, Jason raised his arm so he would settle against his side instead of tipping forward and jerking awake. 

He didn’t know why he did it- since it effectively trapped him for however long Dick was asleep- and he told himself that it was because Dick needed the sleep, which he did, but-

Dick made a soft little sound as he positively melted against him, even in sleep. It was such a fragile thing, so relieved, just on the edge of broken… it made Jason’s chest ache. 

He let him sleep. 

Jason might not be able to bury him in a pile of close friends or make love to him all night or whatever, but… he could do this.

He hesitantly carded his fingers through Dick’s hair and watched him lean into the touch desperately, lips parting in a content sigh.  

Maybe for this, Jason could be enough.

[collapsingintojupiter]

Sea Urchin

I made me some analogical fluff bc honestly, why not?

Characters: Virgil, Logan, (brief) Roman

Relationships: Analogical, platonic Prinxiety

---

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Roman?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s a good idea!”

“Fish? For a date?” Roman sighed, slinging an arm around Virgil’s shoulder. 

“I’m telling you, oh panic-at-the-everywhere, that taking him to an aquarium will literally make his year. Logan loves the ocean, man.”

“And...and you’re sure he won’t think it’s weird?”

“No, because he’s weird. And so are you.”

“Hey!” Virgil shoved Roman away and glared at him, though it melted into a grin when he laughed that stupid laugh of his.  

“Relax, Virge. He’ll love it, I promise.” He sighed. 

“Okay…”

Half an hour later, Virgil was standing on the doorstep to the Crofter house, his hair awkwardly styled (Roman’s fault), and a plush shark in his hands (also Roman’s fault). Logan opened the door when he knocked, eyes widening at the sight of the plush shark. 

“I uh...here.” Virgil shoved it into Logan’s hands, then tried to remember what Roman had told him to say. ���Uh, guess where we’re going today?”

Logan looked at the shark, then up at Virgil. 

Holy shit, I’ve never seen him this excited before. 

“Are...are we going to the aquarium?” At that, Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Roman’s terrible idea wasn’t so terrible after all. 

“Correct. I heard you were into marine biology, and they have a sale on the admission fee today. Roman also told me you liked sharks.”

Logan smiled--adorably, Virgil thought. 

“Yeah, I do. They’re such fascinating creatures, despite the terrible reputation they’ve been given.”

“That’s good, ‘cause they’ll have plenty where we’re going.” Virgil motioned to his car, which actually wasn’t his car, but his mom’s. “You ready to go?”

“I believe I am adequately prepared, yes.” Logan still held the plush, and carried it to the car with him where he set it on the dashboard. 

“Will it be okay if I keep it in here for now?” he asked as the two climbed inside. 

“Oh, sure!” Virgil said, and his voice definitely didn’t crack. He tried not to look at Logan as he backed the car out of the driveway and started into town; at his messy hair, the soft blue sweater he currently wore over a white button-up, at his blue glasses which had tiny goldfish painted on the sides - Roman’s work, most likely. And it was perfect.

Roman had been Logan’s best friend since the first grade, and from what Virgil had heard the two had become friends in much the same way he had when he’d been transferred to their school in fifth grade. Promptly after arriving Roman had made it his personal goal to befriend him, though Virgil had never understood quite why. Logan said he didn’t either; Roman merely shrugged when asked and said they’d seemed lonely. 

Not that that was true, or anything.

Whatever the case, Virgil did eventually succumb and become a part of the odd group. Later, when they reached highschool, it was again Roman who convinced him to finally ask Logan out. 

At first glance, Logan was little more than a quiet and studious kid with a weird fascination for both space and the deep ocean, something that was weirdly connected to and disconnected from Virgil’s own fascination with cryptids, conspiracies, and aliens. The more he’d gotten to know Logan, however, the more he learned about the nerdy kid’s wilder side; about his impulsive (but fun) antics in the name of science, his crazy ideas “for research purposes only, obviously,” and his long rants about stars at two in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. 

And Virgil fell in love with him. 

Roman noticed he had before he did, actually. He also said that Logan liked him too, and after several weeks of nagging Virgil finally worked up the courage to ask him out himself. And when Logan accepted--well, Virgil didn’t think he’d ever been happier (though he’d never tell Roman that).

“What’s your favorite ocean animal, Lo? Aside from sharks.” Logan glanced up, grinning crookedly. 

“I love eels,” he said. “And sea snakes. And crabs. And...” he stopped himself, and Virgil both tried and failed to hide a laugh. 

“Go ahead,” he said. “Um, do you have a favorite shark species?”

“Certainly. I am most fond of the tiger shark; their unique patterns are quite aesthetically pleasing. Speaking of sharks, did you know that shark skin feels like sandpaper?”

“I didn’t,” Virgil said, even though he did. “Tell me about it.”

“Their skin is made up of specialized placoid scales, which form a special kind of armor for the shark that’s actually quite thick. It’s also so rough that it can actually injure animals that rub against it the wrong way--it’s relatively smooth the other way, compared to it. The shape of the scales also makes the shark more streamlined in the water, so it loses less energy to drag when it’s hunting prey.”

Virgil kinda froze, even though he was still at the wheel, and once again he was struck by how damn smart Logan was, not to mention how cute he was when he got excited, and--

“Uh, Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Dammit!”

- - -

Virgil stood back a little, grinning to himself as Logan pressed his face up against the tank. On the other side of the glass, a rather uncomfortably large fish looked back at them. Virgil had already been dragged around four different rooms in the span of less than fifteen minutes, but despite that he couldn’t wipe the dumb look of adoration from his face as Logan excitedly rambled to him about parrot fish. 

“Did you know that they create bubble nets out of their mucus to hide in from sharks?”

“Uh...no, I didn’t.”

Man, the ocean was weird. 

“Ooh, this way! They have touch tanks in here!”

“They have what now?” Virgil asked, as Logan grabbed his hand and started pulling him into another room. 

“Touch tanks! So you can touch the anemones, urchins, sea cucumbers, and whatever else they have in there! Very fascinating textures, they have. Especially the anemones.”

“Wait wait wait...touch them?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Logan said quickly, coming to a halt at the room’s entrance. He glanced at Virgil. “If you want I can show you first, and then you can decide. They won’t hurt you.”

“Uh...okay.” Virgil wanted to say no, mostly because being wet was not what he had planned, but Logan seemed so excited about it that he couldn’t help it. Besides, it was just his hand. He’d be fine.

“Here’s a purple sea urchin.” Logan pointed at a little spiky thing in the sand, grinning from ear to ear. “Their spikes can’t hurt us, but they’re cool to touch.” He dipped his hand in, running his finger along one of the urchin’s spines. 

“Whoah, they’re closing together around your finger!” Virgil leaned over the edge of the tank, eyes wide. Logan grinned at him. 

“They trap food with their spines like that, isn’t that cool?”

“You mean it thinks your finger is food?” 

“Yup! Don’t worry though, he can’t hurt me. See?” Logan pulled his hand away easily, showing Virgil. “Wanna try?”

“You’re crazy.” He looked down at the urchin. “...Yes. I’ll try.”

The water was stupid cold, but Virgil rolled up his sleeves, pretended he didn’t notice the adorable smile Logan was giving him, and dipped his hand in. The urchin’s spines were hard, but smooth, and quickly hugged onto his finger as he watched in surprise. 

“You haven’t been to an aquarium before, have you?” Virgil glanced at Logan.  

“I haven’t, no. Ocean always gave me the heebies. Didn’t realize it was so...uh, cool…” he turned away to hide his face, which had turned a delicate shade of rose, and quickly washed his hands while Logan tried to pet every sea cucumber he could find in the tank. 

“They’re very squishy,” he said as he joined Virgil by the entrance. “Very smooth. I like them.”

“I can tell,” Virgil answered with a grin. 

They went to more tanks, then ate at the cafe inside. Logan excused himself after they sat down, leaving Virgil alone for a few minutes as he disappeared. 

Virgil pulled his patch jacket closer around his shoulders, and let out a small sigh. He’d never been much of a learner like Logan was - sleeping in class, doodling on the margins of his notebooks, ignoring the teacher and everything around him...but learning from Logan was so different, so...fun. He realized he’d been enjoying himself immensely the whole time, even though he now had more facts on sea cucumbers than he’d ever know what to do with. 

Being with Logan was fun, he thought. 

“What are you thinking about, Virgil?”

“GAH! Logan, why?”

“I apologize.” Logan sat down, a smile hiding in his eyes as he tried to look sheepish. “I uh, didn’t realize that you hadn’t noticed my presence.”

“It’s alright,” Virgil shook his head, pushing a plate of food towards him. “You just startled me.”

“I will try to avoid doing so in the future.” 

They talked about black holes and green sand; about comets and cone snails and nebulae and nurse sharks. 

And Virgil loved it. 

At last, the day had gone and it was time to go. Virgil was exhausted, but glowing with happiness as they made their way towards the exit. Logan held his hand; similarly quiet, similarly happy. 

As they reached the front door, he stopped and turned to him. 

“I uh...got you something,” Logan said quietly, holding something up for him to see. 

“Is...is that an urchin plush?”

“I, uh...I thought that since…I went back to the gift shop...wanted to get something special...”

“I love it.” Virgil gently took the plush from Logan, cupping it in his hands and feeling how soft it was in his fingers. Logan grinned widely, and before either boy knew what was happening they were in each other’s arms. Logan’s embrace was gentle, but firm, and Virgil was pretty sure he never wanted to leave his arms again. 

Silently, he thanked Roman for his best terrible idea ever.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

the closest i’ve been to a bar was at ballet class

summary: just some smut building up to 🎟🩰(that’s a ticket and ballet slippers in case you aren’t reading this on mobile)

pairings: reader x natasha romanoff, reader x steve rogers, reader x carol danvers, reader x ...someone 👀

word count: a little under 12,000

warnings: everything. as usual, all kinds of sex in here. i can’t remember all of it. some is pretty rough so avoid if that is not your thing.

a/n: so...i may have added a fourth and bc i’m a jerk, i’m not yet tagging who... but i’ve been thirsting for this character so hard lately and idk why! i’m done tho, i swear! no more. none.

a/n2: so, obviously there is no show here and they have yet to find out about each other but i started writing that but this all happened first and it would have been like a billion words. so part 3 will be coming!

a/n3: part 1

Your ballet instructor was Natasha’s number one enemy. It had started almost instantly. As with her experiences in ballet, she felt that your instructor was someone who simply needed to be watched. She said ballet instructors were hardly ever completely honest, they always had ulterior motives.

You highly doubted your instructor—a 38-year-old woman with an amazing husband and three adorable children—was up to no good. But you couldn’t take another lecture!

Natasha liked to remind you that she had been at this for a long time. Sure, she was paranoid, sometimes. But other times, she was very much correct and that was enough for her. She just wished you would put your guard up sometimes.

So she claimed, anyway. And she was convincing, but at the end of the day, she was glad you weren’t jaded and cynical. It meant she got to take care of you. It meant that she got to protect you in all the ways she knew how—threats, murder maybe.

She was waiting for you at your apartment around noon after practice was over. Her eyes sought out any signs of stress. You knew you looked tired—a big show was coming up, that same show you knew was going to conclude this whole sneaking around thing you had going on. You also knew there was a huge bruise on your shin and arm that she would be furious about when she undressed you.

"Hungry?" she inquired. No 'hello', no 'I missed you', but Natasha liked to save that for when you were falling asleep. She really thought you wouldn't remember how sappy she'd gotten in the morning. You let her pretend because the alternative was no sappiness.

"Starving. Are we going somewhere?"

"Let’s stay in, I’ll make something."

You opened your apartment for her and she waltzed right in. She directed you to change as she headed for the kitchen.

You didn’t have the energy to try to hide the bruises. It was better to get it out of the way. Besides, were you going to say no when she wanted to fuck you?

You chose a tiny bra top and a pair of tiny shorts. Maybe your ass would distract her.

She was at the counter, waiting to see what you came out in. A box of pasta in front of her, a few jars and a saucepan off to her side. It wasn’t anything too crazy but you were okay with that, and at least she wouldn’t get to tease you in that restaurant she loved taking you to.

Concept: picture that scene from a movie where the rich, white man has his favorite restaurant that he takes his billions of too-young, way-out-of-his-league dates to and the staff is used to not mentioning any of the terrible things they see to his wife. Now, take that vision and place it on Natasha. Subtract all the dates and the wife and that Natasha was out of your league, and that had you sitting at her usual table of her favorite overpriced, noisy, terribly lit restaurant at least once a week. At least you were starting to make friends with all of the hostesses and most of the servers. But they weren't naive, they knew when Natasha was, in a sense, in a mood, and they knew when to be succinct but still helpful. That was what made part of The Incident possible—

"What is that bruise?" she demanded, startling you out of your thoughts.

You contemplated the innocent act for a moment, but you'd rather be dismissive. It was just quicker. "Nat, I'm fine—"

"Did you get that in class?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

You sighed. "When I was leaving class. I fell walking down the stairs."

"Because you’re so tired!"

"I am not that tired," you protested.

"Y/N—"

You sauntered over to her, sliding in between her and the counter. "I guess I am a little tired but only because I’ve had some trouble falling asleep lately."

She already knew where you were going, but she would never refuse one of your challenges. You weren’t in charge, she was, and you wouldn’t know that if she was too soft with you. She sighed, "why is that?"

"Because you haven’t fucked me in so long."

She rolled her eyes.

"When you tire me out, I sleep like a baby. Without you...I have to tire myself out and that can take forever."

She sighed, knowing she was not going to get you on a different path. "Forever, huh?"

You nodded. "I mean...I can think about you when I do it. Your mouth, your fingers... But it’s not the same."

"And how often, exactly, do you think about me?"

It was the closest she was ever going to get to asking where she stood with you. She knew there were others but she wanted to hear that she was special compared to the rest. She was, so special you couldn’t put it into words. But that didn't mean Steve and Carol weren't special in their way as well. You figured they were going to have a hard time wrapping their mind around that when they found out about this. A competition? Sure, they could understand that.

"Very often," you promised. "I missed you."

You craved them exactly as you had gotten used to having them in your life. The mornings had you longing to be with Natasha, staying in bed late while you thought about how she wasn’t going to be walking you to class or waiting for you after. Nights were reserved for Steve when you realized how empty your bed felt and wanted to have one of your under-the-covers conversations with him—a trend started in the winters when he would unintentionally wake you up because he was trying to slip out of bed, it was your way of keeping him there for just a little longer. Then there were weekends, random mid-days, and every Thursday night that Carol had you set aside just for her so she could take you to Maria's for dinner.

Natasha's hands settled on your hips. "I missed you, too. But that doesn’t mean I don't want to hit your damn teacher."

"Why waste time?"

"I’m nearly retired," she countered. "I have the time."

"No, you really don’t." You slowly removed your shirt and then shimmied out of your shorts before kicking them away. "All of your time needs to be spent on me, not worrying about my teacher."

Natasha always looked at you like she’d never seen anything quite so beautiful regardless of how little time elapsed from the last, but there was something different this time. For the first time since she’d met you, your skin was an unpainted canvas. Steve and Carol had been gone as well and that meant there were no bruises anywhere because there was no one else.

Natasha liked marking you up because Steve did—not that she knew that, but it was a possessive outlet for them both. Steve’s marks were always bigger, bigger fingers, bigger love bites, she’d known instantly that he was a man—random, inconsistent. Hers were smaller, healed quicker, but no doubt sent the message that you were fucking a woman. Something she wanted to be known to whoever else was sharing your bed.

She lifted you onto the counter, leaving your hips hanging over the edge as she dropped to her knees. Immediately, her mouth was set to your inner thigh where she nipped at your skin and kissed after. She never once took her eyes off you as she switched legs..

You wouldn’t beg, even after the eighth time she made that switch. You knew she had her plans and not even you could change them. That didn’t mean you weren’t dripping and squirming, cursing her for being so thorough, however.

She shoved your legs apart wide as she stood, dipping down to run her tongue through you slowly, just once.

You shuddered when she caught your clit. "Natasha—"

"Hush." She eyed your pussy, then the rest of you. "You are delicious, baby. I can’t believe I had to go so long without tasting you." She chose your hip bones to mark up next but finally, slid two fingers inside you. She didn’t move them, she just wanted to fill you up a little.

You clenched around them several intentional times and she didn’t bat an eye. She was trying to drive you crazy; she hadn’t said it but the second you tried to take, if you rolled your hips, if you grabbed her arm and attempted to rush her, she would make you wait longer.

She trailed up to your breasts, small kisses scattered without pattern before she started to bite and suck until your skin was numbly tingling. You knew her game was over when she pressed her lips to yours.

You wasted no time, opening your mouth for her tongue and moaning out of the sheerest need. There was just something about Natasha’s lips that could always get you weak. They were beautiful to look at but they felt even better gliding across your skin, kissing, sucking.

She was the one who pulled away, turning down to look at her fingers still inside you. "You are soaking my hand."

Now you grabbed her forearm, pulling her fingers in deeper. "Fuck me, please."

She acted as if she was thinking about it, arched her eyebrow and curled her fingers once, twice, and then yanked them away from you.

Your eyes widened up at her. What the hell?

"Go sit at the table while I finish making the pasta."

Your mouth dropped a little. "Um...?"

"Hurry up," she ordered.

She was serious, dead serious. You slid off the counter, leaning down to reach for your clothes.

"I didn’t tell you to get dressed," she pointed out. With her hands on your arms, she stood you back up and turned you around. You went to move away but she grabbed your ass and leaned down to kiss your cheek, then gently urged you forward. "Sit down, stop pouting. Be a good girl or else I won’t be fucking you, understood?"

No, hell no, not understood. At all! But you didn’t say any of that as you moved for the table. No, no, no way in hell.

Steve teased, even Carol had her tendencies to make you wait, but Natasha was different. After that first time in the studio, she had never again made you wait for something that you wanted. She gave and gave until you shamelessly flaunted how spoiled you were to anyone who would listen—mostly the ballerinas from class. It was that Natasha didn’t need to be as in control as them, it was that it didn’t need to be some power struggle.

Maybe she was trying something different, but that meant that you could do that, too. Instead of sitting in a chair like a boring mouse, you turned to her and sat on the table instead.

She was pouring the box of pasta in the pot, but she turned up to arch an eyebrow at you.

You lifted one leg, then the other, setting the arches of your feet on the edge of the table. You were obscenely spread for her and she acted as if that wasn’t unnatural.

You brought your hand down to your pussy, two fingers slowly tracing circles around your clit. You watched her watching you the entire time, there was never a break in her resolve. But you were too far now to just quit, besides that was more than likely was her feigned indifference was trying for.

She didn’t stop making the pasta either, but that was how you knew you were winning. She was trying to speed dinner along because she was going to remind you that she was in charge.

It was so cute that they believed that. You worried that she may not let you finish that night, so even if you wanted to give her that little bit of obedience you could manage, you weren't convinced it was in your best interest.

Your hand began to move frantically as you cried out her name because you were just mean like that. Your eyes closed and your head fell back as you took in two of your fingers. Your hips rose to grind against the heel of your palm, around that time you were almost certain you’d heard something clatter in the kitchen.

Your finish was little more than a show, an end you’d drawn yourself to many times in their absence but one that you played up. It felt as good as it could have but you needed them, nothing else could suffice. That didn't mean you weren't acting like it was the best orgasm you'd ever had.

You came down quickly and did so without a word or even another glance at her. You climbed off the table, sat in a chair, and looked at her once more.

She looked down at the counter in front of her and shook her head. Yep, you were in major trouble, but you deemed it well worth it.

After an uneventful meal, she took you to the bedroom where she edged you ruthlessly. She was trying to get you to apologize for misbehaving, but you refused. Well, until she told you that she wasn't going to give you the presents she brought you back from Paris. (Later, you opened a new pair of thigh-high boots and a diamond choker with a dangling charm of cursive letters spelling out angel.)

And finally, when you gave in and apologized, she herself was worked up beyond comprehension and set your cunt over her face so she could eat you out until you were crying and delirious. Thankfully, she didn’t stop even though you begged her to, not until she was satisfied.

That was the first night Natasha stayed over. She kept her arms wrapped around your bare torso to keep you pinned to her as tightly as possible. You felt her running her hands through your hair until you fell asleep, enjoying the sound of her breathing in the quiet room.

In the morning, you woke first. You were able to watch her sleep for a while, surprised by how peaceful she looked. And you were caught off by how good she looked in your bed, her red hair fanned out over your pink pillowcases, the sunlight filtering through the blinds and layering her in gold light. 

Her arms were slack around you, her right falling away as you sat up. You situated yourself on her side, crossing your top leg over her hip. You took her hand in yours, guiding two of her fingers to your already wet pussy.

You teased your clit for several minutes, careful not to wake her just yet. When you were ready, you slid down on two of her long fingers. Still, she was not woken by you.

You rolled your hips desperately, moaning every time your clit swept against her palm. You felt her fingers curl on their own and moaned louder, an attempt to get her conscious.

When her eyes shot open, they focused on you instantly. You continued to fuck yourself on her fingers, setting your head on the pillow next to hers and staring in her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered. Then she was up and urging you onto your back. She spread your legs wide and slotted herself between them. She started slow, hands groping your breasts as she dragged her pussy against yours. 

She was deliciously slick, you could feel her cunt dripping onto yours. Wet sounds filled the room, along with the small, desperate noises that spilled from your open mouth.

When she knew she was close, she used your thigh as leverage, moving quicker. It was a breath-taking scene when Natasha got lost in pleasure. She shut her eyes, tilted her head back and her red curls lined her back, her breasts bounced hard because that was how she was fucking you. She didn’t stop until you were both screaming each other's name and coming.

She collapsed on top of you, mouth lazily seeking out yours. "That’s the best way I’ve ever been woken up."

You smiled.

"Turn over, let me see your gorgeous ass."

You waited until she stepped off the bed to roll over, eagerly sticking your ass out for her. She had never asked you to do this so you were excited to see where she would take it.

You heard her get back on the bed and then felt her hands gripping your ass hard.

"You have such a beautiful ass."

You smirked, glancing back at her.

She set her body flat against your back and you titled your head just so you could kiss her. She began grinding her cunt against your ass, nipping at your lips as she moaned. One of her hands slithered down between your pussy and the mattress, her fingers circling your sensitive flesh skillfully.

Her soaking pussy brushed over your ass desperately, you could feel her soaking you all the way down the back of your thigh. She got herself off on your skin, never once easing up on your clit even though you’d finished and were terribly oversensitive to her touch. Instead, once again, she stopped only when she wanted to.

And if you thought that would be the end, you didn’t know her very well. She sat up and brought you with her. She took your hips in her hands and situated you over one of her thighs, her front pressed to your back once again. "Come on my thigh, baby, don’t stop until I tell you to."

You leaned over, using your elbows to keep your balance. You rode her thigh hard, making sure to give her quite the show of your ass. When you were reaching your end, you grabbed one of her hands and set it over your ass. She took the cue immediately, grabbing you, digging her fingers in.

When you finished, she shoved you flat onto the mattress. You were only half aware of what she was doing behind you, still floating from your orgasm. You snapped right out of that when you felt her lips against your ass. She kissed you several times before you felt her tongue against your hole.

You startled, hands fisting in the sheets. You were definitely surprised, you guys had never even approached this topic. But just as soon as you had felt her, she was gone. She turned you back over, kissed up your body, stopping only to worship your breasts. When she reached your mouth, she gave you an out-of-place chaste kiss and sat up. "Seriously, we need to get out of bed or I'm never going to stop fucking you."

When Carol opened her apartment door for you, things quickly changed. She gripped your arm and walked you to the couch where she forcefully sat you down. One thing was clear: she was in no mood to hear you speak.

"Stay." She headed to the kitchen where you heard cupboards being opened and slammed shut, the fridge a few times. Mostly, she was just walking around.

Perhaps you should have been scared, but you were just wet. So fucking wet.

She came back with a beer, glanced at you, then began pacing. "You’re..." she trailed off and shook her head before taking a long drink from the bottle in her hand. "I mean, I can’t even..."

It was definitely a mistake to laugh.

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, a clear warning, but one that you would not heed. "Just try to make me understand," she finally settled on. "What possessed you?"

"Well, you were gone for quite a while."

"So, you missed me?"

"Of course."

"So, you decide to be a brat?"

Was that supposed to make you regret acting out? It was a somewhat humiliating thing for her to call you but you didn’t dislike it. "Well, you weren’t paying enough attention to me."

Again, that sharp look that you were sure was supposed to make you backtrack. "I only pay attention to good girls, girls who behave."

You hummed, standing. "I suppose I should go home, then."

"Sit down," she growled.

Instead, you tossed your purse on the couch and slowly removed your jacket. Nat had left you covered in marks but she was secure enough in her place with you that she didn’t need to do so in a way that would inconvenience you. She understood you were a ballerina so she left your neck, shoulders, and chest mostly untouched. Your breasts, stomach, and thighs were another story, but you were still in a tiny ass skirt that allowed Carol to finger you in the car before you’d arrived at another little gathering Maria was having—who had more parties, her or Tony Stark? She was giving him a run for his money.

Which was where you’d started acting out. Carol had picked you up around noon and you were as sweet as could be. But around 3, you were suddenly hit with the realization that you wanted to be fucking her more than anything else. It started with a text about how you had taken off your underwear. She was having none of it, she told you this was not happening. You let her know that the scrap of lace was in her purse.

You sent a picture 30 minutes later. She warned you to stop. You sent a video showing her just how wet you were for her, then told her all the things you wanted her to do to you. All the things you had missed while she was away.

In total, you sent her 27 texts, 2 videos, and 7 pictures. You’d received 4 responses, but the final one was completely out of place. Show me your ass. You obliged but then nothing. She said nothing, she requested nothing further.

Did you feel as though you'd gone too far? Not exactly. Carol was definitely into the most public shit, making possible for the second part of The Incident. You still blushed thinking about that day.

She rolled her eyes at your display of disobedience, bringing the bottle to her lips once more. "Strip."

You didn’t need to be told twice. First, it was the shirt, and you paid no mind at all to what Natasha had left you with, but you noticed Carol's lingering gaze. Next, you pushed your skirt down and stepped out of her pumps you’d borrowed. You loved wearing heels when you were out with Carol, she was taller than you without and sometimes it brought you to her level or made you just a tad taller.

She made her way closer to you, setting her bottle on the coffee table off to her side. Abruptly, she grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer to her. "If you wanted me to get rough with, princess, all you had to do was ask."

You didn’t have time to respond before she was kissing you, greedy and demanding. But just as you reached up to touch her face, she yanked back and turned you around with her hands on your shoulders. She grabbed your hair once more and forced you down toward the table.

You were on your knees, bent over the edge, your breasts flat against the freezing glass. Your cheek was pressed so hard against the solid surface you almost couldn’t open your mouth to speak. "Carol—"

"Silence."

It was a while before you heard her move, she got down behind you and kept one hand on your head as the next began to feel through your folds.

She slipped one finger inside you, pulled back, then added another. She curled up against that spot that always made you buck your hips wildly, even though now you were digging into the sharp wooden border of the table she’d bent you over.

"You know how to drive, right, princess?"

You paused for a moment, confused.

"Answer me."

"Um, yes?"

"You know that when you reach a traffic light, green means go and red means stop, don’t you?"

"Yeah..."

"So, right now, bent over this table, your soaking cunt filled with my fingers, you are...?"

She was speaking slowly as if you were a child that could barely comprehend this conversation. Never mind that you were definitely getting lost and her fingers were turning your brain to mush. It was another humiliation tactic and you felt yourself blushing. She’d never been quite so...formal. "Green?"

"Are you asking or telling? Green means that you are still my desperate little whore that needs to be fucked hard."

"I’m green," you assured.

"And if at any point you feel like you need me to slow down or you are beginning to get worried or uncomfortable, if you need any verbal communication, you’re yellow. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And you understand if you need me to stop, if I’m hurting you or you don’t like what’s going on, you can tell me you are red and you know I won’t get mad at you?"

"Yes."

"One more time, what are you?"

"Green."

She pulled her fingers from inside you. "Arms on the table."

You hurriedly obeyed, gripping the edges hard. Carol never really spoke to you like this, it was all spoiling you in attention and affection. This was something else, something you hadn’t anticipated when you started this game.

She brought her hand down on the right side of your ass, your hips stuttered forward and your gasp and the echo of the smack filled the room. Your cheeks burned and your eyes filled with tears. It didn’t hurt, she was experimenting, but you knew it would eventually.

"And what are you now, princess?"

You swallowed, willing your voice to stay even. "Green."

She finally let go of your hair and you tilted your head a little just to get the pressure off your cheekbone. She repeated the slap on the opposite side with just a bit more pressure.

You shuddered and blurted out the same color. Your skin was stinging but you felt yourself growing wetter, your slick running down your thighs now.

She had you in this cycle until she found enough force that it was barely manageable. Tears were running down your cheeks, landing on the table and she had to hold you up on your knees because you no longer could.

She hummed. "These marks are going to be pretty in the morning."

You realized then where this came from. Had you come to her with the same attitude but without all of those marks Nat left you covered in, you probably never would have pushed Carol to this point. They had both officially found their ways to be just the slightest bit possessive.

"You sorry?"

You snorted. "No...are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You should have fucked me at the party if you really wanted me to stop sending you pictures and videos."

She rolled her eyes. "Stay here. I'm not joking."

You smirked as she stormed off to her bedroom. You knew what she would be coming back with. She returned naked, save for her strap. A smooth red dildo hung between her legs, one of the larger ones she owned.

You went to stand up but she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Crawl over here."

You lifted your eyebrows—crawl? Hadn't she just called you ‘princess’? But you could be a ‘whore’ since she called you that, too. On hands and knees, you made your way to her.

She reached down to grab your hair, pulling you up to stand on your knees. She said nothing else as she used her other hand to press the tip of the dildo against your lips until you opened your mouth. A struggle that ended with the sounds of you choking on the piece of silicone down your throat.

The rest of the night was spent on the couch. She made you ride her strap until you physically couldn't continue, which ended up being a bit after two in the morning. She didn't tease or edge, she allowed you to come as many times as you wanted to, in fact, she ordered it—unstated, but the threat that would come from not playing her game was clear.

She didn't help, however, she stayed still underneath you and didn't say a word. She just watched you, watched as you pathetically attempted to get her to break. You would kiss her, take her fingers and suck on them, place her hands over your breasts. A few times, you even got up, turning your back to her before sinking back down on the dildo, knowing that she would love the sight of your battered ass.

Steve understood your love of ballet.

Sure, Natasha knew what you were talking about and related to you somewhat, but she also had her opinions about ballet and sometimes she was a little closed off about your dancing. And hell, Carol would support you doing anything. Tap, softball, book club, Broadway, murder, she just wanted you to be happy.

With Steve, well, he sort of understood interests that left you a little battered and bruised. His new obsession (TM) was patching you up through those unanticipated injuries and wrapping your feet before you practiced at home to prevent injuries. It was a careful 20-minute process where he was utterly focused on making sure you were completely protected. And either he paid tremendous attention to you—his skills at quickly prepping your feet was enviable—or he had a thing for ballerinas. You were okay not knowing.

When he called you and told you he was coming over, you noticed something in his voice. It was different, not that usual sweet and doting tone, but you'd heard it before. Steve was always confident and assertive, but this was...something else. Something more. When he told you that you needed to get dressed in nothing more than a leotard, you wanted to be a brat and flat out refuse, maybe just tease, but you didn’t. You had enough sense to know that it wouldn’t get you the results you wanted.

You also had reason to be nervous. Carol had left you some nice marks. They didn’t really hurt anymore, but they were there. There was also no false illusion about what they were. Steve would know and you just weren’t sure how he would feel about them. Most of your ass was covered with what you were wearing but there were still the especially dark areas that could be seen through your one-piece, and there were a few bruises that extended the cut of your outfit. Not to mention, there was no way to hide what Natasha left on your upper thighs.

But you just decided to act like it wasn’t an issue. He was the one who said he couldn’t be your boyfriend, right? He couldn’t get upset over others leaving marks behind. At least that was what you kept repeating to yourself as you walked toward your barre in the corner of your apartment living room.

You began going through your usual warm-up routine, only glancing at him when you felt you wouldn’t be caught. He was laid out on the couch, eyes following your legs as if he hadn’t seen you do this a dozen times already. He was already hard, made more noticeable by the one leg draped over the edge of the cushions. His hand was on his thigh, fingers twitching just barely. The control he was trying to maintain was clear on his face, through his sharp blue eyes, his set jaw, and furrowed brow.

It was silent the entire time and your nerves were growing. Eventually, you would have to turn around and he would have the perfect view of your ass. He’d already noticed your thighs, you saw him eyeing you when he was prepping your feet for the pointe shoes. But he didn’t say anything and he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t allowed to. Right?

With a finishing soutenu turn, you were facing the opposite direction. You heard him sit up but then it was completely silent, minus your breathing and your shoes brushing along the floor.

When you were done, you stayed put. You’d gone as far as teaching him a lot of ballet vocabulary because he knew what he wanted to see and after your warm-ups, he would often direct you. It was always somewhat thrilling—apparently, you both shared this depraved ballerina kink. Maybe there had been role play—maybe he was the casting director and you were a desperate ballerina auditioning for a role, willing to do anything to get it, and maybe he pretended he had a million and one critiques for you, and maybe instead of having the talent, you got the role after you sucked him off.

“Face the barre. Run through your pliés.”

You turned to your side, pretending to be focused on keeping your hips squared and your pelvis locked. You could do pliés no problem, but the alternative was meeting his stare in the mirror and you were too nervous to do that. You completed the demi-pliés slowly and the grand pliés much the same. Normally, he would speak during this step, knowing that he wasn’t going to distract you, but nothing.

You waited for more instructions but they never came. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you startled—you hadn’t heard him get so close.

He just held you for a moment, pinned your back to his chest as he kissed the side of your face. His hands began to squeeze your breasts and you melted into him eagerly. But soon, gentle touching became rough grabbing and all you could do was watch him in the mirror. He looked at you like he was starving and he touched you like it had been ages.

One of his hand dropped down and grabbed your ass. You held on tighter to the barre, shuddering. "What do you call him?"

Because you just didn’t know what was good for you, you laughed. "Are you jealous?"

He gripped you harder, bringing down his other hand to join. "I don’t need to be. What do you call him?"

'I’m not fucking another man," you informed, amusement still clear in your tone. Steve Rogers jealous, you never thought you’d see the day.

"Then what do you call her?"

She had you call her captain, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that. "What do you want me to call you?" you purred. "Sir?"

"No."

You hummed. “Master? You don’t strike me as the type, but you’re weird enough that I wouldn’t be surprised."

"No."

"Then I’m not sure what you want, Steve." You did know, you’d always had the suspicion since he liked to take care of you and loved calling you baby girl.

"I won’t ask you again," he finally said. He didn’t much care what you were doing with other people, but he did have a special liking to your ass. Maybe he was just mad that someone was spanking you before he was.

When it came to Steve, you knew how to get under his skin. You always knew just what to say to shock him and he could pretend all he wanted that he didn’t love when you would say the filthiest things to him, but you knew better. And after he just handed you this, how were you supposed to resist? "I don’t think I’ll have enough time to answer."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, are we on a clock?"

You shrugged, leaning back to set your head on his shoulder. "Well, yeah, if you want to fuck me before mom gets home."

He scoffed, averting his gaze forward.

You knew you’d caught something though, his hands tightened on your hips and his jaw was doing that thing.

"You are sick."

You snorted. "And you’re hard, so."

He turned you abruptly, pinning you between his body and the barre. "Fine, what’s the story?"

You hummed. "You met my mom in a bar, you liked her, you started this all with the purest intentions. But then you stayed over one night, and there I was. You’ve tried fighting it—"

"But you don’t make it easy," he sighed.

You smirked. "I’m sorry, daddy. Really."

Any last reluctance he had was destroyed when you called him daddy. "Well, baby girl, daddy really isn’t okay that you’ve been letting so many other people fuck you."

You shrugged. "Maybe I was practicing."

He scoffed, fully aware of how you were intending to turn this. "Practicing. For what?"

"You. I just wanted to make sure I was good when you fucked me."

He hummed, turning you away once again. "And are you?"

"Good?"

"Mhm."

"The best," you promised.

"Baby, I don’t know how I feel about sharing you. What if I wanted to be your first?"

"I—"

He brought his hand up to your neck and you fell silent. "Daddy is really disappointed."

Rarely did Steve commandeer your scenes. Mostly, he pretended that he was just humoring you, then he fucked you well enough that you weren’t in the position to tease him afterward. It was a great system. But you weren’t complaining that he was suddenly changing things.

"Are you sorry for letting me down?"

You nodded quickly. It was surprising how naturally he could commit to this character.

"How are you going to make it up to me?"

"I’ll do anything," you promised.

He took his other hand, palm sliding over your ass. "Have I ever told you how much I love your ass?"

"No."

"I do... you ever had your ass fucked?"

That was a huge no. The men you had been with up to that point, prior to Steve, did not meet your standards that well. There was lacking trust, skill, most of them couldn’t define 'foreplay' if their lives depended on it. And after, well, Carol was the only one who liked straps so much and she’d never brought it up.

"No."

"No?"

You were about to repeat the answer when his hand came down on your ass. It (illogically) was the last thing you were expecting and you pathetically squeaked before you could stop yourself.

"You know what I want you to call me. Correct?"

"Yes, daddy. No, I’ve never been fucked there."

"You want daddy to fuck you there?"

"Will daddy forgive me?"

"Maybe."

Pouting, right now? Steve Rogers knew no bounds. "Yes, daddy, I want you to fuck me there."

"Spread your legs and hold the barre."

You hurriedly did as he asked, watching his face in the mirror. His eyes were focused on your ass, the way you moved, the way you were teasing him by leaning over just a little.

First, he moved your suit aside and buried two fingers inside you. You were obscenely wet, something he chuckled at.

You would have blushed, had you not already been. He pumped his fingers in and out, ordering you to watch, even though you couldn’t see much with your leotard in the way. When he added another finger, you squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"Does that hurt?"

"A little, daddy." It always hurt, taking Steve was always an adjustment process. The first few times, uncomfortable, an orgasm without his fingers rubbing quick circles around your clit was impossible. You were getting used to him, it was still a stretch, you’d just grown to like that ounce of pain because you knew how much pleasure was going to follow.

"Well, imagine how they’re going to feel in your ass. Then imagine how my cock will feel. Worried?"

"No, daddy. I like it when you hurt me."

He thrust his fingers a tad indelicately and your hips jerked.

Ass—obviously you’d said that to get a rise out of him, but still, rude. You had completely soaked through your thick suit by the time he pulled his fingers out, and not a single finish to show for it. But you figured he knew what he was doing, he’d probably had experience with this before so you were fine letting him run the show.

He pulled the material over your ass so he could watch you take his fingers.

"Take it off, daddy," you pleaded, voice all weak and breathy. You were pathetic.

"Can’t, baby. If your mom walks in, you can’t be naked."

You whined unintelligibly. Was he serious right now?

"Don’t misbehave," he warned. "I don’t want to have to punish you. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy." You set your forehead to the bar, angling your head so you could still see his face.

"Are you ready?"

You nodded slightly. "Yes, daddy." You startled a bit when you felt his finger, taking a breath when he told you to. The first finger didn’t hurt but you felt impossibly full—he was right, how were you going to take him? There was a sting when he got to his knuckle but he told you to relax so you tried.

His opposite hand reached through the suit where he pressed his fingers flat to your clit and began to massage them over you, back and forth, with a toe-curling pace and pressure. He pumped his finger in and out of your ass until you were crying out about your approaching orgasm. His finger felt different now, better, and you weren’t sure any finish had ever built up so intensely.

Before you could find out, he stopped touching your clit, dipping his first two fingers down to tease your entrance. It was then that he decided to add another finger to the one working on opening your ass for him. He was quick about it, slid one finger out, shoved two in.

You threw your head back, moaning loudly.

"Starting to feel good, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." Maybe just the looming promise of the right kind of pain, but not necessarily good. Not yet.

He continued his pattern of edging you until he had four fingers inside your ass. Your legs were shaking and his other hand was completely soaked. He never stopped talking, telling you about all the times he had thought about fucking you like this, how he touched himself during these fantasies, how he was going to make you feel better than you’d ever felt.

Steve wasn’t the most forthcoming man. He didn’t lie, never, but sometimes he kept things so completely to himself and you never had a clue. When did this obsession with your ass start, and how? And if Carol had never spanked you, would he even be doing this now? What other fantasies was he keeping to himself?

"Do you want to go to your bedroom, doll?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want your mother to catch us?" he joked.

You snorted. "Maybe I do."

He leaned over you, kissing the side of your face. "You know, I’m just saying, if you really did have a mom and I was your stepfather and was trying to fuck you on a clock, we would have definitely been caught by now."

You couldn’t possibly refrain from smiling. "You’re such a dork, Steve."

He smiled a little. "You think you’re ready?"

"Yes."

He arched an eyebrow at you. "Don’t drop the act now, baby girl."

You scoffed. "Yes, daddy. I’m ready." You watched him in the mirror as he moved his pants out of his way, something he eventually had to remove his fingers to do. You immediately missed that full feeling.

He adjusted your leotard out of his way once more, opposite hand leading his cock to you. He pressed in just barely, allowing you time to adjust or to protest if this was a failed experiment. You guys had had a few of those. Beyond handcuffs, he did not like tying you up. You guys actually weren’t overly into public sexual situations, save for the final act of The Incident. And phone sex was something that only occurred in times of true desperation. This would not be making the same list.

He folded his hands over your hip bones, pulling you back further on his cock. Your mouth dropped and your eyes slammed shut. It didn’t feel natural, it was like your body was trying to push back at him but well, Steve was nothing if not stubborn. He just kept pushing and pushing until your ass was flush against him.

It felt like an eternity when he started to pull out and then another eternity when he thrust back in, but you enjoyed every second. You felt high by the time his hips were moving easily, steadily. It was this maddening feeling like you were on the edge of something really good but he wouldn’t touch you anywhere else and it just wasn’t enough to finish. You suspected he knew that.

His hands moved up your hips and your waist until he could grab your shoulders. He stood you up, his hips stilling, your back flat to his chest. Just when you thought you he couldn’t get any deeper inside you. He pressed his hands up until he closed around your breasts. He pinched your nipples through the material, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"Let’s go to the bedroom."

He would have a much better angle to watch, of course. Two months prior, you were days away from a huge audition so you were either at the studio or at home practicing. One night when you arrived home at nearly 10, it just felt like something wasn't right. Like someone had been in your apartment, nothing looked off. You just felt it.

You didn't lock the door behind you, just in case. You kept hold of your phone. You hadn’t spoken to Natasha that day and you worried she wouldn’t answer, she didn’t generally stay awake so late. And well, it wasn’t like Steve was a stranger to your AM calls or texts. But Carol lived closer and would have been there in a second if you’d needed her.

You made yourself move, tomorrow was another busy day. You flipped on your bedroom light, nearly sprinting straight back out when you saw flowers on your bed. But fear was quickly replaced with all sorts of confusion.

It looked like an expensive bouquet and there was a card right next to it. And see, these were not roses or daisies, these were dahlias—dark red, full, extra flowers. And who was more extra than... As the card read—ding, ding, ding. Steve Rogers. 

When you’re not so busy, we’ll try it out. 

Fear soon returned. Oh no, you thought to yourself. What could he have possibly done? It took you only three more seconds to find a full ass mirror over your bed. At the moment, you were stunned, but once more, pulled yourself out of it with your insistence of sleep. You did not have time for this.

However, when you were in bed, your phone charging next to you, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Of course. You had to call Steve. He’d broken into your home, or allowed others to break into your home, without your permission. All to put a fucking mirror over the god damn bed? He was insane, you realized.

"Hey, doll."

He sounded so smug. "You’re sick."

"Hmm, does that mean you don’t like it?"

"That means what I said: you’re sick."

"Take your clothes off."

You snorted. "Who said I’m wearing any?"

As mentioned, this wasn’t your usual routine with him. Steve loved seeing you, feeling you—phone sex just didn’t cut it. But who knew when you would have time for him next?

"There are many toys in your bedside table, pick one now."

You eagerly obliged, spreading your legs and fucking yourself with a vibrator he’d used on you several times. He told you to watch, to not take your eyes off the mirror.

The mirror added to discovering that Steve Rogers liked role-play had been some of the most pleasant surprises of your life. It was fun for both of you, never a question about when or where. When either of you wanted it, the other was always up for it. You’d thought it was just a one-time thing after the ballet incident, but then he found handcuffs in your room, which believe it or not, you hadn’t actually been using for sex. They were sex handcuffs, but they were just part of your costume to the Valentine's Day party Carol had taken you to, thrown by the lovely Maria.

Regardless, he asked you about them and you dismissed them. He then “arrested” you for “being a brat”. That got you bent over the kitchen counter as he fucked you from behind. He had you beg him to let you go but didn’t stop until his cum was dripping out of you onto the floor.

Then he’d noticed you were struggling in one of your classes and offered a prize for doing well on an upcoming exam. Of 50 questions, you’d only missed 4. He laid you out on your bed and told you he was going to eat you out. After the first time, you attempted to pull him up to you, gasping about how you needed him inside you, please Steve. He grabbed your hands and held them down, ordering you to call him professor Rogers. 

Then there was the loose sugar daddy scene. He’d bought you a diamond choker on one of his trips away and it was stunning. You felt spoiled and wanted him to feel the same. You got on your knees and stayed there until you were sure your jaw was going to suffer permanent damage if you kept your mouth open that wide for much longer. It was three days later that he sent you a screenshot of your Instagram post about the diamond choker and told you to get dressed exactly how you were in the photo. So, in a rose pink wig, a tiny pink satin dress, a dangerously high pair of red heels, and the diamond choker. He didn’t use your name when finally got to your apartment, he called you baby and made you ride him, fully dressed, until you couldn’t sit up on your own.

Then there was the time Steve Rogers actually sent you the address to a sex shop and told you to meet him there. You’d had no idea until you pulled up to the building but you knew immediately that you were going to enjoy this. He asked you to help him find toys that his wife would enjoy—you told yourself you could play along, but you definitely needed to smack him upside the head later. When he got you in the car, after a little back and forth, you being somewhat mouthy, he placed one of the vibrators inside you and wouldn’t turn it off. His fingers paid attention to your clit the entire drive home.

Your payback for that was you dressed as one of his former chorus girls. A designer at the university that you’d met because she always made the costumes for the show was all too happy to help. You sent him a picture of the outfit then flipped the skirt up to show him you weren’t wearing underwear. The absolute last thing you expected was for him to show up in one of his suits. He was wild almost animalistic, he made you scream so loud that three different neighbors came to check if you were okay. Which had been a great source of pride to him.

Then you bought a stripper pole. It took 7 entire classes before you had any idea what you were doing. Though he appreciated it, it was a requirement of patience that he did not want to execute. Natasha, though,

Natasha loved watching you dance. Carol had the same problem as Steve but if you let Natasha, she would watch you for hours.

When you woke up, it was because Steve was getting out of bed. You glanced at the clock, 4 in the morning. He was getting up for his run, then he'd head out to the tower for another day at the office.

He fucked you again before he left. He had you on top of him, chest to chest, his arms wrapped tight around your back, one hand on the back of your head to hold you to the bend of his neck. He liked to do this with the mirror. He liked holding you flat against him and then watching your ass as he fucked you fervidly. He had become wild and insatiable since the mirror's arrival.

Natasha liked to lay you down, tie your legs to the bedpost, sometimes your arms, and would spend hours teasing you with her mouth. Sometimes, when she knew you weren’t too tired, she would tell you to finger yourself and she would stay next to you and watch in the mirror for as long as you would allow it.

Carol liked making you ride her and you couldn’t deny that was a beautiful scene to watch play out from above. She also liked to turn you away from her, settle directly behind you, drape your leg back over her hip, and fuck you with one of her straps.

They had their shared interests, that was undeniable. You still blushed every time you thought about The Incident. It occurred four months ago. They’d been on a short trip; not even a mission, they’d promised, they’d told you it was more politics than saving the world. The first one you saw when they got back was Carol.

She had texted you while you were out with friends and asked where you were. You informed her that you would be shopping alone after lunch. She joined you because she had a present that she just couldn’t wait. It was a vibrator that she could control from her phone. She never used it while you were walking, concerned that you may actually fall and hurt yourself but if you stopped to look at something or sat down for even a second, it was on.

Natasha had taken you to the restaurant. She told you to go to the bathroom and take off your bra and panties and she handed you her purse to place them in. She made you sit down next to her, slipped the same vibrator inside you, then made you sit on her lap for the entire night. She let you watch her phone, let you know when she was going to speed up or slow down, and all she did the entire night was sip on her wine and keep a tight hold on you so you couldn't move away from her.

Two days later, Steve made you wear it to class. Not ballet class, actual classes where you would be sitting down. It was so random when you would feel it and it was terrifying as he wasn't there. You never knew when or where, or if you were standing up and reading! You wanted to hit him when you got back to your apartment and he was waiting for you. You didn't, but you were really upset. Mostly because he hadn't let you come the entire day.

You wanted to know why? You’d asked, but their answers were dismissive and it wasn’t like you could elaborate on what you actually meant. You weren’t just asking why, you were asking why all three? It was just one of those answers you weren’t going to get while you were still keeping secrets from them.

When Natasha showed up after Steve left, it was two hours before class. You were still in bed checking social media when she slipped under the covers and made you come with her mouth and fingers. You’d taken a shower since Steve left, fortunately.

She kissed up your body and settled on top of you. You undressed her, kissing her bare skin as soon as you exposed it, her arms, her chest, her stomach, her legs, her ass, her cunt. She wanted you on top, grinding against her as she watched in the mirror.

She walked you to class and you fingered her in the dimly lit hallway before she left. She picked you up afterward and made you eat since you simply did not have the time to before class. She walked you home, set up her phone on the table next to the couch, sat down, sat you on top of her, and made you ride her fingers. Sometimes, Natasha wanted videos.

In between your second and third lecture classes, the biggest gap in your day, Carol texted. She picked you up in her car and drove out to some hiking trails that she felt were empty enough. In the back of her car, she had you pressed down to the seats, ass up as she fucked you with her strap. She held the side of your face down against the leather, not so much that it would stifle your screams.

When you finished, she made you clean the seat with your tongue. You could distinctly tell the difference between her taste and yours. She watched you as she removed the strap, taking the dildo and fucking herself with it.

She laid back and let you on top, directing you to sink down on the dildo as it was still buried in her pussy. You didn’t stop taking it until your pussy was against hers, thankfully it wasn’t one of the longer ones in her collection. Leaning over, you used the side of the car to keep your balance. She rose onto her elbows, nipping and sucking at your nipples as you ground your wet center against hers.

This was a regular day, one you had grown to love, one you were completely obsessed with. You were scared. You felt that the likelihood of them all being okay with this was low. But you were not so scared that you would ever lie to them. Withhold information? Sure. Lie? Out of the question.

You'd finally confided in the ballerinas. They'd always known about Natasha because she was at practice all of the time, but you only told half-truths about Steve and Carol. You didn't actually want them to know that you were sleeping with three Avengers. Maybe it was because everyone was drunk, but they promised you that Natasha adored you and she wouldn't leave you.

Okay, but what about Steve and Carol? You were stressed, really stressed. During the preparation period for shows, when training was intense, the ballerinas often went out on Saturdays and got wasted and talked. This was why you were in a loud night club with dancing and alcohol, and no one who was going to stop any of you from getting in trouble.

You were impaired but you were not a bad friend. At the bar, you counted all of your friends. They would likely be leaving with someone as they had all found someone to dance with, you would make the rounds in a minute. It was a rule, if they wanted to leave with a guy, that guy had to give you his number. You would verify it right then and there by sending him a text, then they could be on their way.

It was one in the morning when the girls started leaving. You had a drink at your side and five new names (proven by ID) and numbers saved in your notes.

"That's sweet."

You turned to your left, eyebrows shooting up. Gorgeous blue eyes, long brown hair, and beautiful fair skin. Wanda Maximoff was either sitting right next to you at a bar or you were completely imagining her. Given your drunken state and your current obsession with her, it was possible.

"Well, they don't exactly agree...I read stories about guys and bars and how to avoid getting chopped up into little pieces."

She smiled a little. "Who makes sure you get home?"

"I live close."

She hummed. "Were you heading out?"

Yes, you should say yes. You should leave because this could not happen. You didn't know how to explain that you were sleeping with three of them! And Wanda was wearing this red dress that was really tight and so low cut, so, how would you explain four?!

"Maybe...after I finish my drink."

She eyed your glass for a moment. "I'm Wanda."

"I know. I'm Y/N."

"I think you're the first person who's recognized me all night."

"You're stunning. I don't know how anyone wouldn't recognize you."

She smiled slightly, turning back down to her glass.

There was something so wrong with you. Instead of leaving, you just wanted to sit there and drunkenly flirt, clearly.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

No, say no! "Sure."

It was two drinks later, technically three drinks later, since you finished your drink and then she bought you two more. Things were starting to get...closer. You guys were closer. You'd started out at a normal distance, at least you assumed, but the next thing you realized, you were centimeters away from her.

She had her hand on your arm and she'd stopped ordering drinks. She was ready to leave or almost ready to leave. You hadn't neglected your duties as the best friend. You had 12 names and numbers in your notes but now you were realizing that you were all alone and if you wanted to do something, you could.

You'd talked about yourself a little, the usual. You were a student, you were a ballerina. However, you left the part out about your apparent gambling addiction! She didn't share much and you didn't think that was odd, the others didn't for a long while. They had to be a lot more guarded than you. You completely understood.

Wanda glanced at her phone when the conversation died down, or when you stopped babbling like the intoxicated fool you were, before looking back at you. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Yeah." You should still be saying no. You should try being honest. You should say: I'm sleeping with three of your team members and I should go home. But god, she really was fucking stunning.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"I do. I have a boyfriend that I love very much...but sometimes, there are things that I want to try. Things that he doesn't want to try."

"Are you...referring to me?" That was a stupid question, you were almost sure. But was she? Was that what you were supposed to be picking up?

She scoffed. "In a sense, yes. I do think you are beautiful and you're nice, and really cute. I want to have sex with you, but it can't be a relationship. My boyfriend is offering me an open arrangement... I'm still with him, very committed, but sometimes...I would like to call you and meet you. Does that sound like something you would be okay with?"

Should you be offended by how many Avengers didn't want to be in a relationship with you at this point? You may end up dwelling on that later, but now, you were thinking about having sex with her. She looked soft and sweet, very unlike Carol, Steve, and Natasha. You weren't saying she was better or worse, it wasn't like you were comparing them to rank them.

You were just acutely aware of the fact that they were so dominant and you were not. Wanda didn't seem to need that so much, she seemed like she would be fine just having sex. Meaningful sex, but not too meaningful. Soft sex, but not boring. In fact, it sounded like she wanted to try something different, and maybe you wanted to also.

So, you said yes. Mostly because it reminded you that Natasha, Steve, and Carol all said they were not able to be in an actual relationship with you. You were getting ahead of yourself, maybe they wouldn't care at all. Maybe it would be a complete non-issue, and you shouldn't miss out on having sex with Wanda if you don't have any proof that they'll react negatively.

She kissed you the first time while you were both still sitting at the bar. After you'd given her your consent, she set her hand to your cheek and pressed her lips to yours. It was all soft lips and tongue, no teeth, no power play. She tasted like alcohol and lip gloss, at least her mouth did. You wanted to know what her pussy tasted like, which you didn't fail to whisper to her when she pulled away.

She immediately took your hand and led you out of the club. It wasn't terribly cold as you waited for the Uber she sent for. She was just a bit taller than you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders as she leaned down again to kiss you. Your hands started at her hips but soon began to roam, her ass, her waist, her back, her shoulders to pull her down closer.

By the time the driver showed, you were both completely flushed and very ready to find a bed. She was taking you to a hotel. You figured that was best, no need to add any more people to the list of individuals who randomly show up at your apartment without calling or texting.

She kept her hand on your thigh the entire drive there but didn't dare move it underneath your dress. Another point of difference between her and her teammates. Any of the others and you would have already finished at least twice.

Getting up to the room was a blur. Thankfully, she did all the talking. You weren't sure how to function under this kind of calm, steady build. It was always fast and immediately, but Wanda was taking her time and making sure everything was how she wanted it.

When you finally got into the room, she didn't bother turning on the light. She curled one arm around you, the other pulling your hair off to the side as she began to kiss your neck. She held you against her as she walked forward. There was a bed that you supposed was big enough, a small bathroom, a sad excuse for a kitchen, a huge window with dirty curtains shining light on the mattress.

None of that really mattered, anyway. She led you closer to the window, stopping only when she wanted to remove your dress. It hit the floor, she peeled the curtain away from the window, and her hands were all over you. "Is this okay? I like the moonlight tonight."

She waited for your confirmation before she ran her hands up and down your sides, a teasing touch before she grabbed your breasts. She was still kissing your neck, gentle and open-mouthed.

You turned your head upward, catching her mouth. She opened her lips for you instantly and you took full advantage of that with a slow but sloppy kiss. Her fingers trailed down from the middle of your chest, straight down your stomach, and all the way to your pussy.

She hummed when she felt you were wet. The brushes against your clit were faint but somehow it was enough, it didn't take long at all for you to unhurriedly fall apart. Your legs were shaking and your mind was even more blurry than before.

You turned to her to slip her out of her dress. You kissed across her collarbone, then over her chest, glancing up as you closed your lips around one of her nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head fell back, and she opened her beautiful mouth to moan.

Your hands on her hips, you directed her to the bed. She sat down first, grabbing your arms to pull you down with her. Your naked skin was flush against hers and all you did for the longest time was kiss. Hands buried in each other's hair, quiet moans and gasps filling the room, all the while just building up to this intense scene.

When you sat up, she remained on her back. She pushed your hair over your shoulders so she could see your chest and your face. She was right about the moonlight, it washed over her so well.

You kissed her chin, off to the side of her jaw, then down her shoulder and arm until you reached her hand. You took it in yours, the same with the other as you lowered onto your knees on the floor, intertwining your fingers. There was no prelude, you simply took her with your mouth.

She cried out your name, arching her back and squeezing your hands. She tasted sweet, smelled musky and a little like vanilla. You kissed down the length of her soaking cunt, sliding your tongue into her entrance.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped. "Do that again."

You obliged, releasing one of her hands so you could rub her clit with your fingers. She took her newly freed hand and grabbed your hair. She pulled you down harder, rolling her hips up slowly, trying to get your tongue in deeper.

Not even a minute later, she was making you aware of her approaching orgasm, "I'm close, suck my clit--please, fuck! Suck my clit."

You ran your tongue through her as you brought your hand down, you closed your lips around her and began to suck hard. You pressed two fingers inside her and pumped them in and out, moaning when you felt her clenching around them.

She was shaky and smiling as you lazily licked her through her finish. She pulled you up as soon as her brain was working enough to tell her arms to pull you up. "And how do I taste?"

"Amazing."

She smirked.

You had to figure her boyfriend wasn't much for going down on her since she was looking at you like you were the reason the sun would rise tomorrow morning.

You laid on top of her but she quickly rolled over, legs slotting so you could grind against one another's thigh. Her slick center against your skin was almost enough to make you finish. Again, her mouth was on yours and nothing was hurried. You canted your hips, catching your clit on her soft leg, and she did the same.

Soon, your hips started to gain speed, you were close and could tell she was, too. The sounds of wet pussy slapping against thigh nearly drowned out the desperate screams and whines you both made.

You completely soaked her thigh with your orgasm. As she continued pursuing hers, she reached down, hand gliding between you and her wet skin. She brought her fingers up to her mouth, humming and sucking on them. "I can't wait to have you sit on my face." Then she closed her eyes, her hips stuttered, and your leg felt much hotter.

She didn't waste any time at all, she rolled back over and hauled you on top of her. Your hips jerked when you pressed against her, still sensitive from the last finish. She didn't seem to mind, she just placed both hands on your hips and moved you relentlessly against her.

"Hands behind your back, lean onto the mattress," she instructed.

You quickly did so, relieved to have some type of balance.

She loved watching your breasts bounce this way, loved watching your eyes roll to the back of your head. And she especially loved when you sat up again to grab her hands, an attempt to pull away from the overstimulation. She didn't allow it, she kept her grip tight and pulled you in faster as she rolled her hips up.

[crockettmarcel]

okay i’m going to write this quickly and i’ll finish the other post later but does anyone else find it weird the way one chicago uses pregnancy as a way to hurt women on the shows?

obviously i know that many women have happy, fulfilled lives without children, and that characters don’t have to be parents to have value, but there’s a pattern amongst one chicago pregnancies that kind of just... seems a little suspicious

warnings for mentions of birth and pregnancy loss

chicago fire

shay’s storyline is one that had a lot of potential - she wanted to have a baby, and went through the whole process of using severide as a donor bc he’s her closest friend and she trusted him more than anyone else. this would have been Such a good storyline, especially in 2013, but unfortunately it didn’t work, Shay gave up trying, and then she was killed off a season later so she never got that opportunity

gabby’s story is the one that actually got me thinking about how much of a problem this is in one chicago. although her baby wasn’t planned, her and casey were both so excited at the thought of becoming parents, and it’s obvious that they would have been good ones. then it turned out gabby was having an ectopic pregnancy, and there was no way to save the baby. that’s two women who wanted children but couldn’t have them, within three seasons of the same show. it was just used to hurt them <3

chicago pd

i’ve only watched a handful of pd episodes (crossovers, and a couple that had reese in them) so if any of this is inaccurate please feel free to correct me!!

anyway, from what i know, burgess is the only character on pd to get pregnant. like gabby, it was a mistake, but she was excited for it, and again, like gabby, she lost the baby. there’s a pattern here, and it doesn’t sit right with me

chicago med

april’s story is probably the saddest one tbh. she found out she was pregnant not long after she was told her TB was active again, and the meds she was put on were likely to cause neural tube defects in her baby <3 love that for her despite this, everthing seemed to be going okay with the baby, until she was told at 19 weeks that it had no heartbeat. not long after that, she called off her engagement with tate because he blamed her for their baby’s death

in 3x06 (Ties That Bind), april said to nat “I lost my baby, but I can still have another. If that were taken away from me, I don’t know that I could forgive.” and then guess what happened! although her mom didn’t secretly have her tubes tied, the writers decided that april should have low ovarian reserve, go through all the struggles of IVF, then lose her boyfriend at the end of it all.

although i think this storyline is important, in that fertility issues are something that should be talked about more, making april the one to deal with them is kind of :/ after everything she went through with her first pregnancy, it seems awful that the med writers decided she can’t have children, especially as she really wants them, and would literally be such a good mom

the other character from med that i want to talk about is nat. although she does have a child, it feels like the only reason she was “allowed” this by the writers was to make her seem like a tragic character. it’s one thing for her to be a widow, but a widow and a single mom? way more sympathy points.

also, this isn’t to do with her storyline, but the way they handled owen’s birth was Bad. mama doctor jones (an OB/GYN) did a video about it and the basic summary of it is that the medical information was literally incorrect.

they said that owen was "sunny-side up”, then used ECV to correct the position, instead of manual rotation (which was shown in a way that looked like something out of a horror movie rather than how it actually looks. shoutout to the sfx team). i know this isn’t the biggest deal, but like. this is a medical show and they should at least make the effort to get things right

anyway. i just think that the one chicago writers should do better by their women, and stop using the same pregnancy loss storyline on each of them just to make them suffer. only one of the main characters in all three of the shows was allowed a successful pregnancy, and that was to make her backstory sadder (and also to complicate things with a potential love interest, but that’s a story for another time)

[artificialqueens]

Girl I Met On The Internet, 6/6 (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

a/n: and it’s a wrap! for now anyway bc i totally dont have a fic coming based on the good news nicky had for jaida! i just want to say thank you to every single person who read, liked and reblogged this story. it means so much to me, i’m so glad people enjoyed the strange idea that came into my brain. <3 (also! i wanted to let you guys know that i’m planning on posting this fic on ao3 as well, probably after this chapter is posted on here. my username on there is drivingmecrazy !!)

crystal: does everyone’s spring break start this weekend too?? anyone doing anything??

jan!: mine does! i’m staying home all week, jackie is leaving me :(

nicky: my spring break isn’t until late april!! wtf :(

heidi: ha loser

heidi: i’m going to play animal crossing all weekend i can’t wait

Jackie: I’m going to Canada to visit family on Sunday. Jan, if you want we can hang out on Saturday if you’re going to miss me that much. :P

nicky: i’ll hang out with you jackie

jan: i hate you nicky

jaida: i have a pageant next week!!

jan!: yaas gorg

nicky: bring home the crown!

crystal: GO JAIDA!

nicky: also jaida call me. i have good news for you :)

gigi: crystal you already know what’s going down

crystal: do i now?

gigi: GOOD LUCK JAIDA!!! NO MATTER WHAT YOU ARE OUR WINNER

Crystal had somewhat of an idea of what was going down. She had been granted permission to sleep over at Gigi’s house, and they would be going on their date the following day. Gigi would not tell Crystal anything about where they were going, and refused to give her any hints no matter how much Crystal begged. 

The next morning, on their walk to school, Crystal finally got a hint. 

“You tweeted about it. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“That’s not helpful at all!” Crystal had almost 30 thousand tweets, her Twitter was her space to say weird things without being judged too harshly, and she had a lot of things to say! She thought about things she might’ve tweeted about wanting to do, or places she wanted to go, but came up empty handed.

“Well, you have the whole day to think about it. I’ll meet you after school, yeah?”

-

Gigi’s mom offered to pick them up after school, even though the walk from their school to Gigi’s house wasn’t far. Crystal finally met Nancy, Gigi’s beloved dog. Crystal didn’t want to do anything besides hold the dachshund to her chest all night, but Gigi wouldn’t let her, saying it wasn’t fair for Nancy to get all of the attention even though Gigi does the exact same thing with Tic Tac.

They made homemade pizza for dinner, and played monopoly with Gigi’s parents and her brother. Gigi’s brother thought Crystal was cute, and hit on Crystal; trying out a ridiculous pickup line on the green haired girl every chance he got. After they called off the game, Gigi excused her and Crystal to her room.

“So quick to leave, Georgina,” Crystal teased, sitting down next to Nancy who was using Gigi’s strawberry cow pillow pet as a headrest. 

“Wanna spend time with you. Can we cuddle?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company until Gigi spoke up.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Couldn’t do what?” Crystal asked, lost.

“Come out to my friends. I thought I was ready but obviously I’m not.”

“It’s okay, Gigi. You’ll know when it’s time, don’t rush it.”

“I just want to be more open, I guess.”

“That’s good, but it’s not going to happen overnight. You have to take baby steps, G.”

“Was it hard? To come out?”

“To who?” Crystal snorted, “You know I don’t have any friends. I’m pretty sure everyone at school already knows, though.”

“Does your mom know?”

“Probably. She got a little too suspicious when I started liking Poppy.”

This turned into revealing who their first gay crush was, and how and when they figured out they liked girls like the rest of their friends liked boys. Crystal told Gigi about how she originally tried to fake like One Direction so no one would suspect anything, and Gigi told Crystal about how she refused to listen to any music sung by female artists for half a year before they decided to go to sleep.

-

Crystal had woken up first. She didn’t bother waking up Gigi, going to scroll through Twitter instead. It was still early, but the group chat was on some bullshit, Jan changed her display name to Nicky and changed her profile picture to Nicky’s to mock her. Nicky did not find this funny in the slightest, but Jaida did.

nicky: i’m nicky i’m french i love stealing my friends gfs

jaida: omg period!

THE REAL nicky: JAIDA THAT’S NOT ME!!!

jaida: proof?

THE REAL nicky: I HATE IT HERE!!

nicky: croissant

crystal: HELPDGNJKFNJ

THE REAL nicky: i cannot stand jan. this is why jackie should date me instead

Crystal couldn’t stop laughing, which ended up waking Gigi up. Gigi was grumpy at first, but that changed when she realized they needed to get ready to go on the date she had planned.

After they had gotten up and dressed, they sat next to each other in front of the giant, floor length mirror next to Gigi’s closet to do their makeup. Gigi stopped doing her makeup after putting on her foundation, deciding that watching Crystal do her eye shadow was more entertaining than finishing the look she had in mind.

“Stop looking at me, you’re making me nervous!” Crystal giggled when she noticed Gigi’s stares, not actually wanting Gigi to stop.

“I’ll think about it,” Gigi paused, pretending to think, “I will not. You look beautiful.”

Crystal squawked, “I barely have anything on my face!”

“So?”

“What are you, gay or something?” Crystal teased, making Gigi poke at her sides, “Stop being a dork and finish your makeup!”

“Fine. Only because we need to get going soon.”

-

“Wait, you know how to drive?” Crystal asked, getting in the passenger seat.

“Yeah! I don’t have my own car yet, but I got my license on my 16th birthday. I am not enforcing the stereotype at all!” Gigi grinned, opening the garage door and starting her mom’s car.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Can I play music?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Gigi handed her the aux cord and started backing out of the driveway. 

“Okay. This is the ultimate test,” Crystal stated, starting to play a song. “Which One Direction song is this?”

The song in question was good, but Gigi didn’t recognize it. She had only listened to ‘Midnight Memories’ because it was Crystal’s favorite album, and she knew for sure Crystal wasn’t playing a song from that album. “Is it from ‘Made in the A.M’?”

“Trick question! It’s one of Niall’s solo songs. It’s called ‘Dear Patience’!” Crystal laughed, thinking she had pulled off the biggest prank in the world.

“Oh, fuck. I should’ve known there was only one person singing.”

After fifteen minutes of driving, and Gigi almost running a stop sign, they finally pulled up at a cute little thrift shop on the outskirts of town, and Crystal was just about shaking with excitement. “I love thrifting! I’ve only been once, but it was so fun! I found that jumpsuit I wore that one day while thrifting!” She rambles, rushing to get out of the car and inside.

“Wait, when I did tweet about this?”

Around the time they had first started talking, Crystal had tweeted about how her dream date was going thrifting. Gigi naturally stored this information in the back of her mind, even though at the time she never thought she would need it.

On their walk from the parking lot to the store, Crystal held her hand out, which Gigi hesitantly accepted.

“We should play a game! We should split up and pick out an outfit for the other person without them knowing and then meet up and try them on!” 

Gigi’s heart swelled, Crystal was so cute. “That sounds fun, but how do I know this isn’t just a trick to dress me up in something hideous?” Gigi teased, making Crystal blush.

“I would never, don’t be ridiculous,” Crystal scoffed, “I’ll save that for the next time we go thrifting!”

Crystal let go of Gigi’s hand to open the door for her, splitting up as soon as they walked into the shop.

It didn’t take them very long to pick out their pieces. Crystal stayed true to her word, picking out a light green, halter top dress for Gigi. Gigi, on the other hand, had picked out a hideous pair of neon pink, zebra print leggings and a red flannel shirt.

“Gigi, what is that?” Crystal scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“You like patterns, why not clash them?” Gigi tried to defend herself, but could barely finish her sentence before bursting out laughing.

“No! I’m not getting that! I’m not even going to try on that outfit. It’s yucky.”

“That’s fine, give me the dress you picked out for me. I need that.” Gigi snatched it from Crystal’s hands, walking quickly to the dressing room.

The dress looked gorgeous on Gigi. Crystal was so glad she took their game seriously. 

They looked around together for a little bit before wandering from each other yet again. Gigi somehow ended up with a pile of clothes that you would only see in a very successful thrifting haul video on YouTube. Crystal had stuck to the men’s section, immediately claiming some loud button ups and with a little digging, she found a very specific, out of place t-shirt that said something about how ‘real grandmas drink Dr. Pepper’ that she found hilarious and needed to own.

“What does that say? Some grandmas play bingo, real grandmas drink Dr. Pepper?” Gigi questioned when they finally met back up, “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s sending me. I need it!”

“So you hated my outfit I got for you, but you’re buying that?” Gigi teased.

“You do not understand the art of highly specific shirts, like these, babe. I’ll have to teach you all about them later.”

Gigi thought Crystal was an idiot, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

-

After paying for their clothes, they got back into the car. Gigi started driving, not telling Crystal where their next stop was. The stop happened to be the Taco Bell drive thru, which Crystal was excited about. “Okay, I do remember tweeting about wanting to go to Taco Bell.” 

When they got their food, Gigi placed the bag in the back seat, making Crystal raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re a messy eater, so we aren’t eating in the car. My mom would kill me if we made a mess.”

While Crystal tried to convince Gigi she was not a messy eater and her mom’s car would be fine, Gigi pulled up to a park.

“Can you find a spot to sit down at so we can eat it there?” Gigi requested. It took Crystal about two seconds to travel from the car to the grass, settling down in a shady spot underneath some trees. Gigi joined Crystal, holding a blue blanket as well as the brown paper bag.

“It’s not a picnic blanket, I couldn’t find one but I hope it works.”

“It does! I love picnics!” Crystal hops up so Gigi can lay down the blanket, going to retrieve the drinks that they forgot in the car. 

Their lunch was filled with flirting, stupid inside jokes and Crystal loved every second of it. She knew for sure by the end of the day she would not be single anymore, but the lack of confirmation was making her antsy.

Once they were done eating, Gigi collected all of the wrappers and cups, walking across the grass to the nearest trash can to dispose of them. When Gigi came back, she had a huge grin on her face, “Well, Crystal Elizabeth. I would like to think that I successfully wooed you, if only you could do something for me in return…”

“What do you have in mind, Georgina?” Crystal giggles, hoping Gigi couldn’t tell how nervous that statement made her.

“Crystal Elizabeth, I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend?” 

“God, yes. I’ve been waiting for this for months.” Crystal exclaimed, immediately being pulled into a kiss.

They stayed at the park after that. Crystal’s inner child had jumped out after the kiss was broken and she wanted to play on the playground. 

“Wait, Crystal! Come here, the light looks good right now and we need to take our reveal selfie!”

-

Their date came to an end when Crystal’s mom texted her asking to come home. Crystal’s mom had no idea what she was interrupting, as Crystal did not tell her mom what they were actually doing.

“I hate it here, I would let this date go on all week if I could.” Crystal pouted, buckling her seatbelt.

“If there’s any other place you want to go this week, we could go on our second date.” Gigi smiled, reaching out to hold Crystal’s hand.

“Be careful, I know steering with one hand is peak lesbianism, but I don’t know if you’re a good enough driver to do that yet.” Crystal joked, even though she gladly accepted Gigi’s hand.

“Oh, shut up. Like you could go ten minutes without holding my hand.”

Crystal kissed Gigi again when they got on her street, Gigi parking a few houses down for privacy.

“This was fun. I really am happy with everything. You completely wooed me, Georgina.”

“I’m glad. Does this mean I can call you my clown girlfriend now?” Gigi jokingly asked, making Crystal let out a tiny scream.

“As dumb as that sounds, yes. You can.”

Gigi did not let Crystal get out of the car without getting another kiss.

-

Crystal entered her house, her grin slowly fading when she saw her mom waiting for her.

“You took a while to come home.” Crystal’s mom started, under the impression she was at Gigi’s house. “What took you so long?”

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t find my charger.” Crystal felt bad for lying to her mom, but she didn’t want to tell her what happened yet.

“Oh, your generation and your phones. I was starting to get worried.”

“Mama, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m going to my room now, is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’m about to start dinner. We’re having your favorite!”

The second Crystal got into her room, she locked her door and jumped on her bed, logging onto Twitter.

crystal: good evening l a d i e s

jan!: HEY!

jaida: crystal!

Jackie: You haven’t been active today, what were you up to?

heidi: not jackie demanding answers

nicky: ooooh

gigi: well, since you asked…

crystal: :D

gigi: my girlfriend crystal and i went on our first date today. isn’t she beautiful??

The group erupted into chaos the second they saw their selfie, congratulating the new couple for finally getting together. Crystal wouldn’t have it any other way. She would be forever grateful for being added into Elites Only, and even more for the special girl she had met there.

gigi: so, any ideas for our second date?

crystal: tons, babe. i’m gonna blow your mind.

[plethora-of-imagines]

Risky 5 Minutes

AN: Loosely based on Mod T’s fantasy from @iwouldfuckthemaster, give them a follow if you haven’t yet. They’re a great source of inspiration. I've been holding onto this for over a week bc I wasn’t happy with it but I finally got it a point that is good enough. It’s also a lot softer than I expected; apparently, I cannot write smut that isn’t somewhat soft.

Word Count: 2480

Warnings: smut/lemon, risk of exposure

Description: The Master and you take a risk while the Doctor and fam are right outside.

You had always felt a bit awkward about being attracted to the Master. It felt strange to consider yourself a friend of the Doctor's while you wanted to have sex with his enemy. Also said enemy was a criminal who could easily decide to kill you at any moment. So, not the safest crush to have. But the advantage to your poorly placed crush was that you were able to spot him no matter the disguise. You didn't understand how it worked, just that it did. You would see him -not whatever part he was playing. The Doctor had claimed it was some form of telepathic recognition that you shouldn't be able to do, you were only human after all. He liked to tease you that it must be your spy senses from working in MI6. Completely ignoring that all you did was office work.

So when O walked through the door to MI6 all sweet and shy smiles you knew it was an act. That he wasn't some soft-spoken analysis with an interest in aliens. It only took you a few seconds to realize it was the Master. Not that you could tell anyone. You didn't have any proof after all and they would ask for proof. That and no one at MI6 believed in the extraterrestrial. Which had made the times they teamed up with UNIT in the past very awkward. You should tell someone, but there was nothing you could say to convince anyone except that you just knew.

You also couldn't tell the Doctor...

You could claim that it was because you couldn't be sure what point of his timeline would answer all you like. You did tend to meet his different incarnations with no real or clear pattern to the encounters. One day it could be the white-haired Scott, the next the trenchcoat-wearing Doctor, and after that the overeager child-like brunette. Completely random. But you knew the true reason you couldn’t tell the Doctor was a lot simpler.

You didn't have the Doctor's phone number. Yeah... when you said you were friends with the Doctor it was more like acquaintances. You had traveled with him only a few times. Those few times more often than not had you running into the Master too.

So it wasn't your attraction to the Master alone that made you just give in and go with whatever his scheme was this time. It was knowing that you didn't have a chance of stopping him yourself and there was no one to turn to who could. UNIT was gone, as was Torchwood, no one in MI6 would believe you, and no way of contacting the Doctor. You might as well go along with it and enjoy the ride. If he didn't kill you when he noticed you...

Somehow the two of you had gotten involved with each other. It was beyond you how it had really happened. Or even worked. Sure, you had mentioned that you weren't going to try and stop him when he discovered you knew it was him. Still, it didn't seem like enough of a reason for him to let you live. Perhaps the Master got a sick joy out of getting a former "pet" of the Doctor's to choose to let him bring about humanity's destruction.

Along with not killing you, he had decided that you and O should date each other. You knew it was to give him an excuse to keep an eye on you in the office but he was very invested in something that was a charade. He would buy you flowers, take you out on dates. It was weird. Yet you went along with it. No hesitation. Might as well enjoy him spoiling you even if it was a facade. The Master has called you cute before- when you were traveling with the Doctor. You were sure it didn't mean anything though. There was no way he was actually interested in you, it was just a part of his scheme. It had to be. Better to be cautious and wary now than devastated later on.

The whole situation was wrong- especially since you vaguely knew about his latest plan- but you couldn't find it in you to stop any of it. Attraction makes people overlook weird things. Like the fact that the Master wanted to destroy your entire species.

Following him to the Outback had been one of the best decisions of your life. While away from MI6 he could embrace being the Master again. It was fun, dangerous, and reckless. You also learned that the Master was more than willing to act on his attraction to you. It had not been faked like you had assumed. You had been sore -everywhere- for a week after the first day in his TARDIS. 

It was more than you had hoped for when you told him you knew who he really was. You kinda expected to die that day. So being alive and getting to have sex with the person you had been lusting over for a long time: definitely a major win for you.

However, there was a downside. It was incredibly embarrassing once the Doctor showed up. Here you were being called an old friend and you were lying to his -well now her- face. Her greatest enemy was right here in front of her face. And you were sleeping with him! You couldn't find it in you to feel too guilty though. Being with the Master was fun- even if it might not end well. So you weren't going to be the one to reveal the Master's identity.

It had been strange to be in the Master's TARDIS when it looked like a shack in the Outback. Knowing that this apparent shack could travel anywhere, anytime. It was even weirder when you were there with O instead of the Master. The one place that you couldn't see the Master hiding who he really was, but here he was doing just that and fooling the Doctor flawlessly.

As soon as the Doctor had shown up things got chaotic. Well, even more chaotic than the Master made things by himself. You had never met the creatures the Master was working with. It made it easier to be truly surprised by everything happening. Barely any acting required. Everything that happened was still absolutely crazy even knowing part of what was going on!

It wasn't long before the Doctor had decided to grab the rest of her "fam". It was strange to call the group traveling with her that. It was so different from what you were used to.

After the Doctor had grabbed the rest of her "fam" from wherever they were in the world they had gone outside to talk. O had claimed that the two of you would join them soon. You raised an eyebrow at this. Why were the two of you not joining them now?

The two of you apparently, "Just had to edit the program running to analyze the readings from the creatures. Should take no more than 5 minutes."

You knew something was up. The two of you had already done that while the Doctor was gone picking up the "fam". Not suspicious at all.

The second the door closed behind them you hit the wall. The Master pushed his body roughly against you to keep you pinned there. You were startled and confused. What did you do to make him angry? You had played your part, they had no idea what was really going on! Wide-eyed you looked up at the Master. Your confusion remained until the Master walked his hand up your leg, under your dress. 

Oh! You smiled at the thought of his chosen name. A quickie against the wall? Consider you interested. He wasn't mad, he was horny. He was in for a nice surprise. You had gotten dressed in a hurry since he had given you little warning that the Doctor was on their way. Throwing on a dress had been the easiest option. 

"No panties," he said in a somewhat growly voice. "Good girl, that will make this easier."

You didn't fully realize the situation you were in until he was quickly unzipping his pants. You were about to have a 5-minute quickie where the Doctor and her companions could possibly hear you. Or even just walk in on the act! It was risky. It was also making you very wet.

"You seem to like this idea," he murmured in your ear as he felt how wet you were getting. Pulling his hand away as he stated, "Perfect. Clock is ticking, we don't have any time for foreplay. Always loved a ticking clock."

As he said this he slammed into you with a wicked smile and no real warning. His hand covering your mouth and the yelp you made. You could taste yourself on his fingers.

"Have to be quiet pet," he glanced at the computer screens. "The Doctor and her "fam" are just on the other side of this wall." The way he said “fam” told you how dumb he felt the title was.

He then gave you another smile this one promising mischief and destruction. 

"In fact, the Doctor is leaning up against the wall right where I've got you now."

You could feel the heat of your blush as you thought about the Doctor being right there. So close to you being used by her enemy. Hearing any noise you dared to make. 

The Master didn't waste any of your 5 minutes, proceeding to pound into you roughly. You brought a leg up to wrap around him, giving him better access. 

You did your best to stay quiet but a few times you couldn't help but start to moan or whimper. Anytime you started to make noise his hand tightened on your throat, stopping you from vocalizing. It wasn't long until you were lightheaded enough that any of your attempts to make a sound would have been as quiet as a whisper. That fact didn't stop the Master from continuing to grip your neck tightly. It was possible you would have a light bruise the next day... Good thing that this plan of his wouldn't last long enough for the others to have a chance to notice. Else he would blow his own cover at this rate.

As he got closer to his release you tried to bring yourself closer with your thoughts alone. Focusing on what you were feeling. Every harsh thrust, the twitch of his hand around your throat. The lightheadedness from the lack of air.

 It was a rule of the Master's that when you couldn't ask for permission to cum that you could only cum when he did. It had come about during your first day in his TARDIS when he had gagged you. Realizing that you couldn’t beg him for your release he had come up with the rule idea. It hadn’t stopped you from trying to beg through the gag.

You really needed to cum now, while you could. You didn't think you could handle playing your part of the innocent, unknowing companion of the Doctor while horny. At least not well enough to keep the Doctor from being suspicious of something.

 Even if it was just suspicion that you and O were intimate with each other. The Doctor would ask way too many questions. She might even hyperfocus on the two of you to make sure she thought you were right for each other. The Doctor could be overbearing in that way. It would also make it harder to keep the Master's cover.

You refocused in on the situation you were in now. No need to kill the mood by worrying about the future. The 5 minutes were almost up and anyone could walk in and see you being used by your Master. Just thinking of how close you were to the time limit made you dizzy. Or that could just be the lack of air. Probably a mix of both at this point. 

You were close and you were sure the Master was too. He had somehow picked up his pace even more, getting rougher. His nails were digging into the skin of your neck. The marks left by them would, fortunately, be hidden by your hair. Each thrust started to make you see black fuzz. The Master went over the edge. The feeling of him releasing inside of you helped almost put you over the edge, but you weren't cumming yet. You were so close, it was frustrating. It would be so disappointing to miss this chance.

"So close aren't you pet. I suppose I can be nice this time," he murmured into your ear.

He brushed his hand against your clit while he was still filling you with his release. It tipped you over the edge just in time for you to still have permission to cum. You stayed silent during your release. You were not going to ruin the moment by making a sound now! With how crushed your neck felt you doubted you would have been able to anyway.

You felt something from his hand be pressed into you as he pulled out. Trapping his release inside of you. He was being generous today! Both making sure that you got to cum and that the evidence wouldn't leak out and down your leg in front of the others. Once he pulled away from the wall you got on your knees. Licking away any remaining cum on him before he zipped up his pants.

"What a good pet you are, love. So well trained! I'll have to keep taking good care of you," he paused before adding on a quiet admission. "I want you to last a long time by my side."

Your heart fluttered. This wasn't a one-time thing to get at the Doctor. He actually wanted you around. As he said this he offered you his hand like it was normal. As if he hadn't just admitted his affection for you beyond a quick lay and bothering the Doctor. Grabbing the hand he offered you were pulled to your feet as if you weighed nothing. You felt good, used but good. He handed you a water bottle after you were standing.

"Thank you, Master," you whispered to him. You didn't dare risk being overheard calling him by his name. 

He gave you a soft smile with just a pinch of mischief behind his eyes. It looked like a blend between the Master and his persona, O. It was really weird to predominantly see O in him considering how he just roughly wall fucked you.

"I take good care of my pets. Unlike the Doctor. Now, let's rejoin the others and enjoy how clueless they are to you having just been thoroughly used by your Master."

[whatsmylaneagain]

Amethyst - Third Chapter

Pairing: Eggsy x Agent!Reader

Word count: 1960 (a big one!!! Yay!!!)

Warnings: swearing, Roxy mention (bc she deserved more), reader’s character being a rebellious lil shit, Eggsy being kinda dumb (oh well this is all kinda narrated by his point of view, there’s no way to not expect that, right?!)

Chapter synopsis: so, we know that the bomb had Eggsy’s name on it, but.... what the hell is actually happening?

A/N: GUYS IM BACK AND IM SORRY!!!! I’ve written (and revised) this more than six months ago, but I absolutely hated how I made Eggsy a dumb character, so I spent all this months putting this story aside to fix it later... but I love it so much and this week I watched Spies are Forever and oh well.... idk, its been too long, but I’m posting this anyway.

Amethyst masterlist

Eggsy didn’t expect to find another person other than Harry and Merlin at the Kingsman’s meeting room. And what he definitely didn’t expect was for the person to be a beautiful Chinese woman laughing and having a drink with Harry Hart. The young man felt like he was invading a private moment, and had the sudden urge to grab y/n by the arm to show her the new victorian-style sconces he chosen for the rebuilt hallway.

But before he could say anything, y/n had already tapped the doorpost, making their presence known. The middle-aged woman talking to Harry glanced at the two young agents, giving the girl a sly smile. 

“I’m glad to know you didn’t punch Mr. Unwin on your way here, y/n” she said, as Eggsy went straight for his chair on Harry’s right side.

“I would’ve if you didn’t send me that text” The girl had moved to the woman’s side, backing up to the wall for support. She never made mention of pulling a chair.

“Well, y/n, I take as you already know Harry.” Said the woman, gesturing to the older man, who smiled sweetly. Yes, that’s right. Harry SMILED.

“Of course, The Great Harry Hart, the man of a thousand missions;” when Eggsy thought he couldn’t get more confused, y/n pulled this. “Everybody at the headquarters knows who you are.” And some - fucking – how, she sounded genuine, and not witty or arrogant as she appeared to be. Was that… admiration?

Seeing Eggsy’s confused expression, the older woman gave him a small smile, welcoming, but not too sweet; just like an agent is used to do.

“Galahad, I’m Yijun, or as my agents – or people who can’t bother to learn how to pronounce it - call me, Circe. I’m the head of Amethyst, the agency that y/n works for.”

Eggsy must have looked very confused, because Harry intervened, while pouring two more drinks, giving him one and sliding the other across the table, towards y/n.

“Yijun is an old friend, we met some weeks after she came from China. I was already a Kingsman, and was trying to bring her into the organization – just like I did with you – when she was recruited as an Amethyst trainee.”

“You knew?” Started Eggsy, a little bit of irritation shaping his words. After agent Whiskey, he knew better than not to trust Harry. But he couldn’t help the feeling of being a pawn. “Why did you let me go after her then?”

“I didn’t know the agent who saved you was y/n. All I knew was that she was an Amethyst, since the intervention was fast and clean.”

“-almost clean;” Yijun turned her chair to y/n, who was taking a sip out of her drink, still leant against the wall. “If Morgan’s work were perfect, you wouldn’t be able to find her.”

“Nobody’s perfect, but I try my best.” She shrugged. “’m still your best agent tho.”

“Please,” Merlin entered the room, an IPad in hands, ready to the briefing. “put the blame on me for being able to hack into almost anything, including London’s surveillance cameras. She did a wonderful job.”

Merlin stopped right in front of y/n, extending his hand for a handshake. She grabbed it immediately.

“Miss Le Fay. Hope our codenames won’t be a problem.” 

“I don’t see why, Sir Merlin. The witch from who I borrowed my name could very easily have been Merlin’s apprentice.”

No awkward pressure thing, from what Eggsy could see. Why were his interactions with her so bloody awful? For god’s sake, y/n was joking with Merlin!

It took him a moment to remember what history the two were referring to: Morgan Le Fay was a witch in King Arthur’s story, from where Kingsman got their codenames. Depending on the version, she can be portrayed as Merlin’s enemy, responsible for the death of King Arthur or as a powerful good woman, that had healing powers and could shape shift. For an organization like Amethyst, Eggsy supposed the second option was the one they had in mind.

Merlin greeted Yijun with a respectful “ma’am” before selecting something on his device, the projection of a document showing up on the wall above y/n.

“The techs over Amethyst sent us their reports on missing people, and turns out the man who you two,” Merlin looked at Eggsy and y/n. “saw is Adrian Bell. Seven months ago, he apparently went on a trip to India, but his family didn’t hear about him after he left. He never showed up on the airport camera footage.”

“So... he planned to disappear?” Interfered Eggsy.

“Apparently, yes. But there’s a problem.” Merlin changed the projection, it now being a series of pictures, especially ones where Bell hugged his family tightly, his wife crying, and his kids glued to his leg. It looked like a reunion. “He doesn’t remember anything and woke up asking for his family. His last memory was being in a bar and passing out. He thinks that he was in an alcoholic coma.”

Eggsy was about to ask a lot of questions, but Merlin had started talking again, while taking two Kingsman’s RayBans out of his pocket, giving each woman a pair. 

“I’ve made a partnership with the group of cooperative organizations led by Amethyst, also called D.E.A.R; Diamond, Emerald and Amethyst Relations -” Introduced Merlin, but Eggsy wasn’t really paying much attention to him. 

Instead, he was observing y/n, who hesitantly spun the glasses in her hands, analysing it, differently from Yijun, who just put them on right away. Her mouth twitched on the side, and she started to bite her tongue, as if trying to distract and put herself together. Y/n put them on, but kept looking down for some seconds, before fixing her posture and raising her head, crossing her arms, still leant against the wall on one shoulder.

It was quite weird seeing y/n wearing the glasses. Even though she had noting that could possibly remind him of Roxy, Eggsy couldn’t stop the deja vu of his best friend. A sad smile adorned his lips. He missed her.

A Kingsman-style hologram of a young 16-year-old girl appeared sitting on one of the chairs, big extravagant round sunglasses framing her face along with bright pink streaks on her brown hair. Although she was a teenager (and dressed like one, in a jean jacket and a white tee that said “girl power” in red), she sat perfectly straight, very professionally.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Tonks, Emerald’s tech and field agent. I just came back from an information gathering mission.” which, as a previous Emerald’s agent, y/n knew was just a fancy description for attending parties. Nothing too dangerous, especially for Emerald’s missions, that were more based in socialization and keeping an eye on people. Actually, y/n was impressed that Tonks had something substantial to report (especially to Kingsman) in a high school party. “A group of unmatchable individuals seems to be working together, all of them acting really uncharacteristic and very patronized. I detected the group spiking other teen’s drinks. I managed to intervene and get a sample of it. Agent Spellman also reported a strange movement, alike the one I observed, with a college group. We sent the samples to our biotechs, and the lab concluded it was a modified Mikey Pinn.” The girl grabbed her phone and sent something, the IPhone message sound reverberating through the room. “Now you have access to our outhouse cameras, Merlin.” 

Merlin quickly changed the projection above y/n to eight squares of video that showed each teen in one small room, some asleep on the beds, some walking around nervously, and one passed out on the floor. Tonks started talking again.

“Spellman and I brought the group of high school and college students to our outhouse. Whatever drug they’re on soon will wear off, and then we’ll be able to analyse what happened to them.”

“Was that the first ever occurrence on your field, Tonks?” Asked Yijun, and then turned to the Kingsman’s, explaining; “Emerald agents that work on high schools usually only have to get in action to stop violence and abuse at their missions. Situations like what we’re dealing with right now is uncharacteristic.”

“No, Boss. Some students stopped going to classes suddenly, but we checked: they all were confirmed on exchange programs abroad. Apparently, they never went.”

Y/n wasn’t leant on the wall anymore. She’d walked to the table, bent over it, hands open, pressed on the cold wood, all her attention on Tonks. Tension.

“Who were the kids? High school and college. Why choose them?” She said.

Tonks flipped through her phone, messaging Merlin more documents - the ring once again filling the room - before answering.

“A rugby player, two perfect grade kids and a foreign student were the high school kids. Apparently, it’s a pattern: physically strong people and awarded students that stand out for their knowledge of exact sciences.”

“Have you tracked were they were drugged the first time?” Continued y/n.

“Not yet, but...”

“I did;” said Merlin, suddenly, typing on his IPad.

A new image showed up on the wall. The front of a bar that looked like it used to be fancy ten years ago. Now, the paint was coming off the walls, and the huge opaque black doors were rusted, chains and a big old padlock kept them closed. It had no name on the outside, only a broken light up waning crescent moon, just the inferior part working, shining in a weak yellow light.

Eggsy knew the place. Actually, every teen and young adult in London knew Moonz: the flat broke bar that let underage kids come in and drink. You didn’t even need a fake ID, they would pretend to not be able to do math and let kids in. In some months, it became domain of teens, turning into a considerably safe place for them to get drunk and party. Also, it was the cheapest place to get booze.

But the underage drinking caused a bigger problem; since it was illegal, the neighbourhood didn’t have a lot of cops because the owner kept them away. Consequently, Moonz’s location became a centre of violence, kidnapping, and other heavy crimes.

The young Galahad saw y/n turn to the projection in slow motion, the act of being casual being thrown out of the window. For Eggsy, she looked like a robot who got rebooted and installed a completely different system of command. When she spoke again, her voice was strong and deep.

“Tonks, do you know when it started?”

“It?” Asked Eggsy. 

“The kidnappings.” Y/n answered. “The fact that they were drugging others looks like it was a kidnapping system. In this context, those kids were “recruiting” more teens.” 

Tonks checked her phone.

“No, Morgan. We couldn’t track it. They apparently are the first ones to come back.”

“Shit.” Y/n paced around the room. “Boss, permission to do an observation and protection mission at Moonz.”

“Permission granted” nodded Yijun “take Galahad with you.”

“Yi, I don’t think the gentlemen can pass as a teenager.” Y/n had stopped walking. She looked straight into Eggsy’s eyes. “With all due respect...”

Yijun shook her head. 

“You know there are other ways to get him inside undercover.”

Y/n ran her fingers through her hair, taking a deep breath. Eggsy could almost hear her thinking “Fuck. Fine.”.

“C’mon Galahad, we’ve got a job to do.”

Eggsy and Y/n were almost out of the room when Yijun called her agent again.

“Oh and Y/n.” The girl turned around. “Don’t engage. I’ll send Emerald agents to protect the kids, but you and Galahad can’t have your covers blown up. Do. Not. Engage. Do you understand?”

All Y/n did was nod slightly.

If you made it to here, thank you so much! I hope it was worth your time! Some feedback would be appreciated, I really wanted to see if you liked this (dumb) Eggsy I’m presenting.... If you don’t want to be in the taglist anymore, I totally understand! Just message me :)

Also!!!! Feel free to message me any questions about the fic and this chapter! I have some fun reasons for choosing those codenames and Diamond, Emerald and Amethyst as the names for the organization!

Amethyst taglist

@a-dorky-book-keeper @50shadesofuncomfortable @arizonacolleen @infinity-of-high-dreaming @toasty-fish @pink-smarties @mc225g @dadd-ilf @sueeatstheworld @katorgatorgalaxy @the-ink-and-salt-club @incorrect-mcdanno @xelizabethvalentinex @ahyestheandersons @thatdamnokie @wxxnks @awesomewees @ryedikkulus @discodeak @clacestan @y-dadd

(If you got the notification again, sorry! I had a problem with the taglist and had to do it again!

[lesbianlovelanguage]

can i request some soft fluff for heatherharringrove :o

Hello Bb!!! Of course you can! I hope I did them justice <3

--

It was a week before Heather’s birthday, and Steve was freaking out.

“Billy, I don’t know what to get her, I’m just all out of ideas!,” Steve whined, “Nothing sounds right, and I want it to be perfect.” He flopped down on the bed in defeat. Billy sighed. It was the fourth time in two weeks that they had sat down to figure out something to get her. They had gone through the idea of clothes, jewelry, and most other generic gifts, but Steve wanted it to be as amazing as she was always able to pull off for them, and Billy was inclined to agree. 

After all, they were the only two who knew about The Closet, a closet in the second bedroom of their apartment, which was originally designated as extra storage, but slowly through their four years of living together it had become the resting place of every ugly christmas sweater, obnoxious piece of jewelry, and tacky decoration Heather had received from various friends and relatives. She was the only one to use The Closet, as Billy didn’t have too many random aunts and uncles who send ceramic angels and crap and Steve had no qualms about throwing away terrible gifts, but Heather couldn’t, and thus has filled The Closet. 

Steve didn’t want to end up adding to The Closet, so the gift had to be perfect. And then inspiration struck Billy.

What did all three of them love almost as much as each other?

“Steve, what about something to do with the ferrets?” Billy asked as he sat down next to where Steve had flopped down, and began to rub between his shoulders.

“Tha- I think that’s actually perfect, Bill-Babe, you genius.” He sat up and smacked a wet kiss to Billy’s cheek.

“Okay, but what should it be?” 

Steve paused for a minute, looking up and away as he contemplated. After a few silent moments, he suddenly bounced up and down.

“Bill! I’ve got it! Do you remember that one night where none of us got any sleep because Princess and Mr. Ferret decided to have a competition on who could take up the most room in the bed?”

“Yeah, it was terrible and we were all cranky.” Heather had been particularly grumpy all day after that, as she took most of Mr. Ferret’s kicking and squirming.

“What if we made a separate bed for the ferrets?” Steve seemed so excited, he couldn’t possibly stop him when he got like this, even if he had doubts that the stubborn bastards would actually use the thing.

“Sure, sounds doable. I’ll make it, and you can paint it?” 

“Deal!” Steve sealed their agreement with another kiss, and then they went to find their third, working on another outfit commission in the living room, drowning in tule and plastic diamonds.

A Week Later

Heather had never felt happier. That wasn’t actually true, but it felt like it in the moment. Her two boyfriends had somehow planned the perfect birthday, showering her in affection and great food, and even let her pick her favorite movie, Sleeping Beauty. They had just finished eating the cake the two had tried to bake, which somehow succeeded in looking exactly like the cake the three fairies had made, and Steve was practically vibrating in his seat.

She raised her eyebrow and shot Billy a look. “Steve, hun, what’s got you so wired?” She asked gently.

“We got you something,” Steve said as he nodded at Billy to go grab the wrapped gift they had stowed away in The Closet under a pile of particularly heinous Christmas sweaters. 

Steve started talking a mile a minute, something he only did when he was especially wound-up. “So, it’s kind of not for you specifically, but we thought you’d appreciate it the most, and we wanted to get you something you’d actually use and-” Heather stopped Steve’s ramblings with a gentle hand on his mouth and a small smile.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure I’ll love it.” 

Then before he could pick back up, Billy sat the box down in front of her and sat back in his seat. With no preamble, she began to tear open the wrapping and the box they had stored it in, pulling out the small bed frame. It was simple in design, a plain rounded headboard and footboard, with two higher sides to keep all of them safely on the bedding.  

Despite the simple design, Steve had gone wild with his paint job. The back of the headboard held a beautiful design that held all four of the ferrets’ names and the rest was all covered in a pink and blue swirling pattern. 

Heather instantly loved the thing. She knew exactly why the boys had made it, and beamed at the idea of a ferret-free bed. She loved her fur babies, but having all four of them together sometimes felt like herding cats. 

She got up from her chair and raced around to place a tender kiss on both boys’ cheeks before racing off to set up the new addition in their bedroom. 

.....

Unfortunately, as amazing as the bed was, only Pancake and Mrs. Ferret actually used the thing. Mr. Ferret and Princess were simply too cuddly to be contained, and continued to worm their way between the three.

_____

tagging @blurbwitch bc I know you love these three too!

[old-read-all-about-kpop]

Anonymous:  Hello!! Could you write oneus reaction to their s/o waking up in the middle of the night bcs they have a nightmare? Thank you! 💕

A/N: I always wanted to write something like this! I’m sorry for the long wait darling. My mom underwent surgery last week and I’ve been tending to her. I am sincerely sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this reaction 💓💓💓💓

Ravn

Your whimpers, soft at first but gradually growing in volume, were what startled Ravn awake. He looked over his shoulder, seeing you in obvious distress as you tossed and turned in your sleep. Your hairline was shiny with sweat, and your eyebrows were knitted together.

Ravn turned over to face you. He watched in worry, wondering what you could possibly be enduring in your slumber. 

He didn’t want to wake you, thinking that it would only make your situation worse. Instead, he chose to shush you quietly and gently run his fingers through your hair. 

Like magic, you calmed down, releasing an almost inaudible sigh. Your face relaxed, and your body settled into the mattress. 

Ravn smiled, proud that he could come to the rescue. He then pulled you into the safety of his arms, peppered your hair with kisses, and snuggled into the warmth of the blankets. Knowing that you could now sleep in peace, sleepiness overcame his senses once again and pulled him back into oblivion.

Seoho

You knocked out early. You have been cramming for your exams and, therefore, pulled all-nighters. You hated every second of it as you knew that it meant less sleep for you, but you had to. Now, it was finally Friday, and you could sleep, not having to worry about another exam until next semester. 

Seoho was next to you on the bed, watching television on low volume so it won’t disturb your well-deserved slumber. He would glance at you occasionally with a grin, content on knowing that his sweet baby could finally rest.

A little while later, you started squirming, letting out pained gasps. Seoho tore his eyes away from the TV to look at you, utterly worried. He froze in place, unsure what to do in this situation.

You woke up with a start then, gasping for air as you gripped onto Seoho’s waist tighter. He hissed slightly, feeling your nails dig into the flesh you once touched tenderly in your sleep. But he disregarded the pain quickly, placing you as his number one priority.

“Hey, hey,” Seoho said softly. “It’s okay, babygirl/boy.” He slowly rested his hand on your cheek, rubbing the supple flesh lovingly.

You leaned into his touch, sighing heavily. The fear that caused your heart to accelerate and your limbs to be on fight-or-flight mode ceased. 

Seoho scooted down on the bed and pulled you flush against his body. You immediately snuggled deep in his tight embrace, relishing in his warmth.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be here if anything happens.”

Leedo

Leedo was enjoying his book while you slept between his legs, your cheek pressed against his chest. After each chapter, Leedo would pause to rub your back tenderly or stroke your cheek with his thumb. Sometimes he would even press a kiss to the top of your head with pure adoration. He just couldn’t stop himself as he held happiness in his heart, knowing that neither of you had anywhere to go today.

He resumed in reading with a smile on his face. But, soon after, he felt you jolt violently, almost causing him to drop his book on your face.

Right when he moved his book away from you, you raised yourself up quickly. Your eyes were wide, fear evident in them. Your breathing was uneven, leading you to almost choke when you tried taking a deep breath.

Leedo sat up, taking hold of your face so you could focus on him and only him. “It’s okay, baby. Calm down. Deep breaths.” He then began to demonstrate, prompting you to follow his lead. 

Eventually, your heart was no longer pounding, and your breathing was back to normal. You sighed in relief and fell into your boyfriend, tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. Knowing you have returned to reality, you completely melted into Leedo.

Not saying a word, Leedo leaned against the headboard. He placed a hand on your head and rubbed your scalp delicately. He didn’t need to hear you say you were okay. He could feel it.

Keonhee

You told Keonhee you didn’t want to watch the newest horror movie. But, your complaints and protests simply fell on deaf ears. So, you had no choice but to sit through the gory film, cowering behind a sofa cushion. Keonhee misinterpreted your actions as you being overdramatic, leading to him teasing you every now and then during the horrific movie. You wished your boyfriend wasn’t so obtuse.

The sky was now the color of coal, and the movie finally ended. But, you knew the horror was yet to leave the crevices of your mind. You were in for a long night, and you dreaded it.

Sure enough, in the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning, you broke out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning as your mind played horrible images for you to try to fight off in your subconsciousness. 

Soon enough, you woke up with a scream, being met by further darkness, provoking you to curl into yourself. Keonhee was startled awake by your cry, turning wildly to find you letting out choked sobs as you rocked back and forth.

“Sweetheart, my love, what’s wrong?” he asked, wretched with concern as he observed your body for any external injuries. He even looked around the dark room, expecting to find an intruder or a murderer. 

You were shaking like a leaf, the ghastly images waiting to pounce on your poor subconscious the minute you were to close your eyes. You let out another choked sob, wishing for the demons to leave so you could sleep in peace.

Keonhee was punched with guilt, having already connected your frightened state to the horror movie he forced you to watch with him. He knew you hated horror movies, the nightmares being the number one reason why, but he disregarded you. Shame gripped his heart harshly. 

Slowly, Keonhee pulled you into his embrace. He hummed quietly, hoping the tunes would calm you. He rubbed your back, rocking you back and forth like a baby. 

Finally, you calmed down. Sleep took over your senses once again. Keonhee watched as you breathed deeply, your lips apart in a lovely pout, and your lashes fluttering above your cheekbones. 

The majority of the night, Keonhee didn’t sleep a blink. He refused his body to succumb to tiredness for the guilt he held was too grand. He thought of numerous ways to make it up to you. You were his precious princess/prince, and he wanted to make it right.

Hwanwoong

Hwanwoong was chilling on the couch in the living room while you took a nap upstairs. Your cycle has been draining your energy every second of these past four days and you needed rest. So, once your sweet boyfriend tucked you in, you indulged yourself with two lovely hours of sleep.

But, your mind had other plans for you as it hindered you with awful images, causing you to thrash around in the bed before letting out a shriek that could shatter glass.

Hwanwoong raced to you two’s shared bedroom. His hands trembled as he took hold of the doorknob and pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall. He breathed rapidly with no pattern as his eyes landed on you. 

You were trying to regain a proper breathing pattern as you searched your body, confident that you were missing a finger or two and had a hole in your chest. The nightmare felt too real for you not to check. 

Hwanwoong crept toward you, hoping not to scare you further. Once he reached your side of the bed, you leaped into his arms. Whatever pieces that were missing were restored within you once you entered your boyfriend’s protective embrace. All was right with the world as you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent until you could identify every note in his cologne.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hwanwoong eventually asked, seeing you in a much calmer state.

You held onto him tighter, shaking your head. You didn’t want to risk giving the little devils power by speaking of them.

Hwanwoong rubbed your back affectionately. “I understand.” He kissed your temple. “Do you wanna come down to the living room with me and watch cartoons?”

You nodded your head. “Please.”

With no further words, Hwanwoong picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and made his way out the room. With you as his precious cargo, he journeyed his way to the living room, more than happy to get your mind off that terrifying nightmare.

Xion

Xion was sleeping when he heard a familiar song playing loudly next to him. He reluctantly opened his eyes, instantaneously becoming grumpy due to his sleep being disturbed. He had a schedule to follow in the early hours of the day and he needed to grab as much rest as possible. But then awareness started to sweep away his grogginess, leading him to fathom the song that was playing. 

He gasped as he hurriedly grabbed his phone, answering the call without sparing a glance at the caller ID. “Hello? Baby?”

He heard you sniffle, causing his face to develop a deep frown. “I’m sorry, JuJu.” You sniffled again. “I was hoping I would get your voicemail.” You giggled, but it sounded strained like you were choked.

“Why would you hope that when you could hear the real thing?” He furrowed his brows. “Besides, you know I have my phone on loud for you. I told you that.”

“I know,” you whined. “But I still wish that you didn’t answer.” You paused. “You know what? Just call me when it’s suitable for you. I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to call you at this ungodly hour, knowing that you have things to do in a couple of hours. I shouldn’t have called-”

“Y/n, stop,” Xion said sternly. 

“Xion, I-”

“Stop.”

You went silent.

Xion wet his lips with his tongue before speaking. “Sweetheart. My sweet baby. My one and only. My precious gem. You could never bother me. You could never disturb me. Whenever you need me, you call me. I told you that before. Now, when I said this, I expected you to take advantage of it. I know you’re not selfish and won’t call me every second you have a problem, that’s not you. Hence why I offered up my services like I’m doing right now. Baby, I don’t care about the things I have to do in the morning. I don’t care. You are my number one priority right now. You need me right now, so here I am.”

You were speechless. What good deed did you do to be gifted such a wonderful man like Son Dongju? From the sweet names to the statement that you were his number one priority, Xion just confessed his love to you without having to say the L word. That had you feeling overly warm with love.

So, until the dark sky turned to the subtle shades of grey and blue, you told Xion about your nightmare but chose to ditch the details. Xion, being absolutely understanding, listened intently. He put in a few words here and there but, overall, he listened to you. Because that’s what you needed from him. And he would happily accept that role if it meant relieving you of the terrors you faced in your slumber.

A/N: I’m finally done! I could have definitely been done with this days ago if Tumblr wasn’t such a booger eater! But, nonetheless, I have completed your request my dear! 👏🎉 I’m genuinely sorry for the long wait. Don’t hesitate to reach out again for another request (when they’re open again of course) and I hope you enjoyed reading this 💓

[psychicwonu-blog]

sleepover

 Anon Asked:  hi, could I request something fluffy with Twice’s Sana? under unusual circumstances she has to share a bed with her crush (fem or gender neutral) and then a confession? thank you, I’m such a sucker for stuff like this lol

Group: Twice

Member/Pairing: Sana x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, non-idol!AU, and a liiiil bit of angst, bc I couldn’t help it:((

Summary: Sana and Y/N catch up after months apart when they just happen to be at the same place, same time. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: ahhhhh I’m so glad my first request since coming back is for Twice!! I love them so much, and I’ve missed them. Thanks for sending this in, anon, I really hope you like it. I went with a fem reader bc it’s what I’m more used to, and I’m a lil rusty rn sooo. BUT! if any of y’all want male/enby/etc reader x Twice (or anyone) just ask and you shall receive!

Sana stood on her tippy toes, stretching her body as much as she could in an attempt to scan the small 7-Eleven for that familiar face. She weaved through some aisles, ducked past other shoppers, and silently jogged through the rest of the store to catch up. 

You were standing at the back, scanning over the many assortments of cheap alcohol. She was hesitant to approach you but ultimately decided to once you had a six-pack of the best beer a convenience store had to offer in hand. Sana let out a quick breath as you turned around. 

“Hi,” she waved. You were stunned, momentarily, as she flashed her toothy grin at you. 

“Hi.” you murmured, adjusting the right strap of your tattered backpack. She smiled at the floor, tucking some hair behind her ear. You watched her silently, unsure of what to do. 

“It’s been a while.” she giggled. Sana rocked lightly on her heels, holding a small bag of starbursts in her hands. You smiled back at her, nodding your head. Your hand mindlessly ran up and down your arm, as you thought about what you should say.

“Yeah,” you huffed. “What have you been up to, Sana?” Hearing you say her name still sent chills down her spine. Suddenly she recalled the first time she saw you. 

The atmosphere of the club wasn’t ideal. Sana liked going out, but there was something off about that night. She’d been begging her friends for hours to go home until she bumped into you. Bright smile, tight dress, dark makeup. Her mood changed completely as you turned around, apologizing for almost spilling your drink on her. 

“I’m Y/N,” you’d told her, stretching your arm out. Her palm was clammy, and her fingers shook as she gripped your hand.

“Sana,” she whispered, her voice was barely audible over the loud music of the club, but your proximity had allowed you to understand. Her voice was soft, and she’d seemed dazed. “It’s nice to meet you.” she smiled. 

She shrugged her shoulders as her cheeks flushed, pressing her lips together.  “Nothing really,” she sighed, scrunching up her nose. “just traveling with some friends.”

“Yeah? I didn’t expect to see you in here,” you tell her. She smiles. 

“I didn’t think you’d leave Korea, at least not so soon,” Sana admitted. An awkward silence settled in around the both of you as you maintained eye contact. “Small world, though, huh?” she tried to break the tension. “I’m glad to see you. You look good.”

“I’m glad to see you, too. Where are you staying”

“Some cheap hotel in the city,” she told you, walking beside you up to the counter. “I can’t remember how to say the name, but I remember how to get there.” The cashier looked between the both of you, rolling his eyes.

“Is all this stuff together, or you guys paying separately?” he asked. You began pulling out your wallet when Sana shouted “Together!” in her adorable English accent. You still shook your head, protesting the idea. 

“It’s fine,” Sana cooed, shrugging off the sour attitude of the store clerk.

“I’ll need to see some ID,” he told her, his voice monotone. She pulled out her passport and handed it to him with both hands, smiling. His mood never lifted, and he handed her document back to her. “Here,” he said, pushing the bag so far it nearly fell off the counter. 

The two of you left the store, and you held the door open for Sana, thanking her for buying your things. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” she laughed. “So, where are you living now?”

“Funny story, actually. My roommate kicked me out a few hours ago.” you laughed. Sana’s expression was serious. “I mean, not permanently or anything,” you assured her. “She’s just got her asshole boyfriend over, so I have to find somewhere else to sleep for the weekend.”

“She seems very inconsiderate,” Sana frowned. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “You can stay with me, you know...if you want. I won a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, so I got my own room this trip!”

“Really? You won?” you teased her. She scoffed, pulling out some Starbursts. 

“Of course I did. Anyway, you want to? We should catch up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

Sana smiled, twirling some of your hair around her finger. Her head rested on your shoulder as she softly sang along to the song that blasted from the TV. Her friends danced, jumped, and swayed along to the beat, teasing the two of you about how close you sat together.

“How much longer will you be here? These past few weeks have been so fun!” her friend Momo laughed. Her breath had been heavy from dancing, she plopped down beside you, tilting her head. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t really want to leave,” you told her. Sana then squeezed your arm subtly. You looked over at her for a split second, took in her expression, then panned your eyes over all of her friends. “I like it here, and you guys are fun.”

“Yeah! You should try to find a good job here! Or maybe start going to school here!” Nayeon smiled.

“Yeah, that’d be really great,” you told them.

You followed Sana through the city, bumping shoulders with her every now and then. She told you about her plans and how long she planned on being in the states. Your eyes scanned her face carefully. She still looked the same. KIller smile, big bright eyes, soft skin. 

Unbeknownst to you, she’d been doing the same thing. Sneaking glances every now and then when you weren’t looking. Sana tried to muster up the courage to talk about everything that happened before you left but for now, she knew things needed to be taken slow. 

Maybe that was the problem, maybe she messed everything up before. You’d only known each other for five or six weeks, and she’d fallen in deep. It’s not uncommon, two people finding each other in unusual positions. Being friends, but actually being involved in something much deeper than just a friendship. Still, it makes it no easier to be the one drowning.

“Here we are,” she sighed. You looked around the room, noting that it was spacious, especially for the price, but there was only one bed. Sana noticed your expression and spoke up. “Yeah, about that,” she giggled. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“C’mon, no way.”

“We’ll figure out sleeping arrangments later, then.” 

You spent most of the night watching movies, talking, and finishing the six-pack you’d previously gotten. Sana was a lot more confident after downing a few drinks. Even something as tame and watered down as convenience store beer boldened her actions. She wasn’t afraid to lean against you, play with our hair, or wrap her arms around you. 

You’ve missed the feeling of her skin against yours. You knew the moment you left you’d regret not saying bye, at least, but the thought of being in love scared you more than you’d like to admit. Especially with someone like Minatozaki Sana. If perfection in people existed, she had it. Nothing about her was flawed to you. From her funny and caring personality to her slim and petite figure. 

“What are you thinking about?” she yawned from beside you.

“You sound sleepy,” you told her, effectively changing the subject. She nodded, stretching her arms up into the air. 

“I am,” she whispered. You helped her onto the bed, removing her socks and fluffing the stiff hotel pillows. It didn’t do much, but Sana was thankful for the gesture. “Sleep here,” she cooed, patting the pillow next to hers. You hesitated, running your eyes over her face. “if you sleep on the floor you’re gonna kill your back.” Sana giggled, sounding much more innocent than she had moments before.

“True,” you shrugged. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna change.”

“Okay,” 

Sana’s mind began racing as you entered the bathroom. She wasn’t sure if telling you about how she felt was the right move. Getting so close to you is what caused things to go wrong in the first place. At the same time, being so far away from you and not being able to keep in touch was excruciating. 

“I have to tell her,” she thought to herself, but truth be told she didn’t know how to. As you came out of the bathroom, clad in silky black shorts and a baggy long sleeve t-shirt, she decided you were still the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. Your hair, your lips, your figure, all compiled together, manifesting a real-life goddess. 

“What is it?” you asked as you slipped under the covers, turning on to your side so that you faced the girl in front of you. She was grinning from ear to ear.

“Nothing. I just missed this, you know? Hanging out with you.” she tucked her long hair behind her ear and adjusted her head on her pillow. You smiled too, agreeing. 

“Me too,”

“Well, I’m glad.” she smiled. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence. She played with your fingers, massaging patterns into your palms, and laughed at your expressions when she tickled you. It was evident that “just friends” would never be something you could label your relationship as. You knew it, Sana knew it, and you both had a pretty solid feeling that it wasn’t and never was really hidden. 

“Um,” Sana cleared her throat. Laughing and cringing at her own sudden awkward shyness. Her cheeks flushed, and her heartbeat sped up. You knew what was coming, but you let her speak anyways. “in case it isn’t obvious, I really like you. And I have for a long time.”

Despite knowing she was about to bring this up, it still overwhelmed you. Only this time it wasn’t like before. You didn’t feel scared or intimidated. Something was telling you to just accept it and be happy. 

“I know.” you smiled back at her. “I really like you, too.”

She pulled your face to hers and did what you’d both been yearning for. Months of confusing feelings and waging war on yourself finally came to an end. “Let’s just start over, okay? And no more ghosting.”

“I promise,” you grinned, pulling her in for another kiss. 

[uruhabuns]

Sensuous (Epilogue)

A/N: So I guess this is the end of Sensuous ;___; tbh!! At first, this series was just an idea I had and wanted to write (even though no one asked lmao) bc it was the beginning of my summer holidays, and ya girl (and all u closet fantasy hoes) needed some form of relief as soon as Jilleoseo was released HAHA. I wasn’t expecting this series to get so much love!! Tbh, I was so surprised when I got messages from people telling me they were excited for the next chapters :’) Thank you to all you guys who have read and supported this, those who have stuck with me from the very beginning and waited so patiently for the last leg of the series!! I’ve enjoyed every moment of writing this series, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading :’)

PS: Inseong said their next comeback will be even more sexy...what am I gonna do then......rip my poor cooch

Pairing: girl reader x sf9 members

Word Count: ~1.5k

No warnings!!

Prologue / Part 1 (Youngbin) / Part 2 (Inseong) / Part 3 (Jaeyoon) / Part 4 (Dawon) / Part 5 (Zuho) / Part 6 (Rowoon) / Part 7 (Taeyang) / Part 8 (Hwiyoung) / Epilogue

_____________

“Shit!”

You woke up to the burning sensation between your legs, and joints in your upper body. You didn’t know if you were able to get out of bed at this rate.

You then pat your hands over your body; your clothes were on.

Okay.

No one tried to fuck you…yet.

The exhaustion and abuse of your body to its limit had finally caught up with you. Just how the hell did you managed to get fucked by not one, but eight gorgeous men in one week? Was it planned? If so, why did they plan it so suddenly? Something seemed suspicious. Throughout your two years of knowing the group, none of them seemed like they wanted to touch you inappropriately.

However, you could remember each time with each member. You could remember how they made you feel in their own unique ways, how they hit every inch inside you, how they hit your spot at different speeds and angles, how they managed to leave your body completely used and fucked almost unconscious each time, and how all of them managed to make you cum until you were numb…each member was so different, from their sizes to their thrusting strength, yet the same in that each of them gave you so much pleasure. They literally broke you into pieces. Even just the memories themselves were enough to make you want more. Throughout the two years, you didn’t realise that you had this desire until they sparked it. Or maybe you did always want them to fuck you, but you just shoved those thoughts into a dark corner of your mind. Either way, they stimulated your body to places you have never been, so now you knew you didn’t want anyone else to handle you.

Your muscles felt like they had contracted overnight, and refused to adapt to your movements, so your limbs felt like they were stretched so far each time you moved. You didn’t know how you were going to go home in this condition, or how you were going to walk normally when your parents were around, or how you could hide the purple marks on your neck. If they found out you had slept with your best friend and seven of his group mates, you would get kicked out for sure.

“Fuck…” you hissed, struggling to heave yourself up from Dawon’s bed with your elbows. You bit onto your lower lip to prevent yourself from making any noises. The burning pain and soreness between your legs felt like it became worse with every degree you lifted yourself at. You guessed that’s what you had paid for in return for the most mind-blowing sex from eight guys in a week. You wanted to stay in bed all day and not move so at least you could walk properly, but you had to go home. You didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened in the past week, anyway.

“Need some help, baby girl?”

Your eyes shot open wide at the words, and you looked up to see the owner of the familiar voice.

“Y-Youngbin…” you managed to whisper.

The older male only smirked and held his hand out. You blinked before you took it with hesitation. He wasn’t going to fuck you again…right?

Upon observing your reaction, let out a soft chuckle. He gently held your hand, and slowly pulled your arm to help you sit up. You then carefully managed to slide out of the bed with his hand still in yours.

“I-I think I’m okay,” you squeaked before letting go of Youngbin’s hand to painfully limp your way out the door.

As soon as you stepped outside, you were greeted with Inseong gazing at you, biting his lower lip with a small smirk. His arms were crossed while his back leaned against the wall.

“Do you need some ice to help with that pain, baby girl?” he asked, slightly smugly. Shit. Your eyes widened as a frightened whimper left your lips. You turned the other way to walk somewhere away from him.

No, no, no…this can’t be happening…you thought to yourself. You then reached the bathroom to see Jaeyoon patting his face with his face towel. Upon seeing him, you rushed up to him, and wrapped your arms around his torso in the hopes that he wasn’t going to tease you like the two eldest members. “Oppa, help!”

Jaeyoon jumped slightly in surprise before turning around to see you. A small smirk formed on his plush lips at the sight of you. “You’re up early, baby,” he said as he pet your hair. Your eyes widened once more. He then leaned down to your ear to whisper, “You ready for another round?”

You immediately let go of your grip and began to step back from him. Sure, sex with him was the most amazing thing you had ever felt, but even if you really wanted to, you just couldn’t go for a second round. It was way too risky. “U-uh…I…gotta go.”

You quickly walked off without taking another glance at Jaeyoon. What the hell was up with these guys this morning? They seemed normal and treated you as they normally would (even after fucking you) during the other days.

You were too busy rummaging through your thoughts when you collided face first into someone’s broad back, letting out a yelp in the process.

The ash-blond male turned around to quickly grasp your wrist before you fell backwards. He then pulled you up to his chest, and held you close. The proximity between the two of you, the feeling of his hard muscles against your body, and his pet name for you made your heart feel like it stopped.

“So what’s it gonna be, princess?” Dawon asked smugly. “Am I gonna have to buy a new outfit for you, or will you use the same one?”

You only let out another squeak as you pushed yourself off him and out of his grip before walking off to the direction of the second bathroom as quickly as the pain would limit you. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is happening?!

You suddenly stopped in your tracks as you felt a hand gently cup your chin. You gasped, looking up at the owner of the hand, widening your eyes as you saw the familiar blueberry hair.

“Did you sleep well, ______? Daddy’s missed you.”

“No!” you yelped. That deep voice can’t turn you on again. You simply can’t give in to your lust right now. You immediately turned back to escape, but you were met with—

“With all that running, I think you’ll need that leash again, kitten.”

Your eyes were wide as you shook your head violently at the tall male, who only had a knowing smirk on his lips. You then dashed to the kitchen to hopefully find someone to protect you, but—

“So when are you gonna put on another show for me, baby girl? Shall I join you next time?” Taeyang said smugly as he was sitting on the counter.

“Fuck!” you hissed in surprise. Your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your mouth. You finally saw the pattern. Oh god. These boys planned this all along. When? Why? How?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a deep voice from behind you, making you freeze on the spot.

“If you still have that much energy even after I fucked your brains out just yesterday, we should go for another round. How’s that sound?”

You swallowed the burning lump forming in your throat. Taeyang only smirked and slid off the counter to walk past you. You then turned around slowly to see the boys gathered on the couches or on the floor in front them, staring at you as if they were ready to seduce you all over again.

Only then, when you faced the group, did you realise how many eight people really were. Only then did you realise that you had that many dicks inside you and ramming into your body. Some of them fucked you raw. Some of them had choked you. Some of them used your body to its limit. But the one thing they all had in common was that they all fucked you so well that you couldn’t walk properly the next day.

You let out a whine, dropping to your knees, then dropping to a sitting position with your legs positioned out to both sides of your body. What were you going to do after this? Will this just be a one-off thing and they would never fuck you again? Will your relationship with the boys change after this?

“But the real question is, ______,” Juho began, his chin resting on his knuckles as stared deeply into your eyes with his piercing gaze.

You swallowed another gulp. That spark of desire in your stomach had ignited once more. You felt your mouth starting to water again.

“What are you into?”