#Road So Far Socks

[moonstruckme]

A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say. 

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed onto him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth. 

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door. 

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side. 

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.” 

“It’s hardly fifteen after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?” 

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving. 

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Your face is already flushed from the chill outside, but he could swear it goes pinker as you unwrap your scarf, smiling back at him. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?” 

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.” 

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James and Sirius most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger. 

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand. 

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous. 

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts. 

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.” 

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.” 

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises. He goes into the kitchen and a second later you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with the string trailing all the way back to the couch. 

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat. 

“Mhm. You like them?” 

“Never had one.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?” 

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned. 

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat them. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.” 

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.” 

“Yes!” you cheer, and he laughs as you start working quicker with the needle. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.” 

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour. 

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives. 

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her. 

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock. 

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!” 

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms. 

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Aw, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not a very difficult task, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.” 

“Sorry,” Lily says as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.” 

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.” 

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry. 

“Come here, my handsome little guy.” 

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap. 

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it. 

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious thing Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again. 

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly. 

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.” 

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“I,” Remus says, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.” 

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always bring some color to your cheeks. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry. 

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax. 

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story of a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?” 

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists. 

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.” 

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.” 

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.” 

“Gross,” James says, looking slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.” 

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off anyway.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you have a box from every person there. 

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.” 

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.” 

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know. 

“Shit, I forgot to check.” 

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says slowly, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, honey.” 

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile. 

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.” 

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness. 

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it, and you’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge. 

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go. 

“Aw, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands. “No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.” 

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir. 

“Oh, that’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is covering your blush. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.” 

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.” 

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn. 

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.” 

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.” 

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.” 

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” 

Remus smiles as he rolls his eyes, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.” 

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat. 

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.” 

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad to me.” 

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live a bit far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.” 

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring, babe.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.” 

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d prefer to keep it from coming to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a super huge downer for us every year.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insist. 

“Shortcake, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly tough when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” 

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of futility on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you in Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.” 

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!” 

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door. 

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you. 

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.” 

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry when James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.” 

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out. 

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet. 

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering. 

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees, and the look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mmm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.” 

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you, your knees curled towards him and his one leg crossed over the other angling him towards you. 

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.” 

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mmm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours. 

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during one scene near the end. 

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.” 

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.” 

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.” 

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.” 

And awhile later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?” 

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.” 

“I want to finish the movie.” 

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.” 

The credits start, and neither of you move. 

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.” 

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you. 

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes. 

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.” 

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.” 

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. Come on, you’re my guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” 

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.” 

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.” 

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.” 

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down. 

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious. 

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you. “You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.” 

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.” 

“You can think that if you like.” 

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his, you’re warm and weighty against him. 

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo-smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing. 

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb over your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while. 

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together. 

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says. 

You hum. 

“Unless you mean it’s working.” 

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.  

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words. 

He sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you. 

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.” 

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.” 

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him. “Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.” 

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you. 

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back. 

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his. 

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. An low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to offer access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?” 

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech. 

“Do you want to move to my room?” 

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip. 

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” 

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?” 

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

You’d always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth. 

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him. 

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this. 

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to his voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?” 

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d ask you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating that warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you. 

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees. “You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it. 

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy. 

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you. 

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him. 

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no. 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?” 

You swallow. “Okay.” 

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?” 

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go down to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan, and he kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward. 

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. 

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline. 

“We can stop anytime you want.” 

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.” 

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs open further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue, and he wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time. 

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, grasping feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under. 

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound. 

He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil. 

“Come here,” you plead. 

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise, cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.” 

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens. 

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I want to. Do you?” 

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces. 

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another. 

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?” 

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his ministrations, and it’s still a bit shocking. His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?” 

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.” 

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you. 

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?” 

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.” 

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound. 

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint beneath Remus’ hands. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth. 

“Come on, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.” 

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found under your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.” 

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.” 

“Come here,” you demand again, and he wastes no time in obliging you. He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you. 

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all. 

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?” 

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.” 

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway. 

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s okay if not.” 

“You can,” you say certainly, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from his face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication. 

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens. 

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.” 

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek. “A little bit, yeah.” Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now. 

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.” 

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?” 

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.” 

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?” 

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.” 

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee. 

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead. 

“That was really great,” you tell him. 

“I thought so too.” 

“You’ll stay here, right?” 

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream. 

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new. 

Remus starts the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall. 

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you. 

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim. 

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Mind? Remus can’t even think. 

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?” 

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?” 

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?” 

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression. 

“Really?” 

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?” 

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.” 

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.” 

You flush horribly, and Remus doesn’t expect he’s faring much better. 

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.” 

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.” 

They’re his own words, put hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs. 

With his track record this morning, he really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face. 

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?” 

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.” 

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did too.” 

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with it. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something he’d come up with to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time. 

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again. 

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is shy. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.” 

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.” 

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?” 

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty. “Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?” 

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically. “Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.” 

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back. 

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference. 

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours? 

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the river behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you. 

So much for opposites attract. 

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face. 

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving. 

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops into a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a better actress than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?” 

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?” 

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.” 

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.” 

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness. 

“Would you come here?” he asks. 

You comply with an eagerness he wonders he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make the most of it now. 

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your scalp. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.” 

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?” 

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.” 

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles. 

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.” 

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her well.” 

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” 

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly. 

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.” 

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.” 

[juniperskye]

Passenger Princess.

This is just a lil blurb about being Aaron’s passenger princess – because with him, you NEVER have to drive.

Hotch x Reader

Word count: 434

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, reader is gender neutral but is describes as a passenger princess lol. Jack is mentioned, Aaron is a control freak

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed.

Aaron Hotchner does not ride shotgun. I’d like to think that it is simply due to his need to take care of others, but I think the real reason is that he needs to feel in control.

He loves having you in the car with him, he will rest his hand on your thigh or hold your hand as he can throughout the drive. He also 100% reaches to hold the back of your headrest when reversing (his bicep in full flex – it takes everything in you not to bite it).

He also definitely reaches his arm in front of you to protect you when he has to break abruptly because of those around you. He’s a defensive driver for sure, with an impeccable driving record.

Aaron takes good care of his passenger princess; he will remote start the car to ensure its cooled off before you get in it in the summer and warmed up in the winter. He opens your door for you every chance he gets and chastises himself when he’s not fast enough to get it before you do.

He will grab your favorite drink and snack for you and have it ready in the car, whether it’s water and gum, or a smoothie and chips. He also goes out of his way to make sure you have socks in the glove compartment and a sweater in the backseat.

Aaron put a little trashcan in the passenger door for your straw and gum wrappers, he has a hook on the back of his headrest for you to hang your bag up and he has an organizer in the trunk to keep everything organized (again with a need for control…OCD Much??). In the trunk is a pair of your slides so after a night out, if you choose to kick your shoes off, you can put on your socks and slides to be more comfortable.

Don’t even get me started on road trips…Aaron is far too prepared to have you as a passenger for a road trip. After expertly loading the trunk up with your bags, getting Jack situated in the backseat with a movie (iPad and headphones), he gets things set up for you. Behind the center console, he places a cooler filled with all sorts of drinks and snacks. He ensures there’s a cable for your phone so you can charge it and play music (because you definitely made a playlist). Aaron also places one of those little pillows on the headrest for you just in case you doze off.

So yeah…you are most definitely Aaron’s little passenger princess.

[cogentranting]

Rating Non-Disney Animated Horse Designs

I’m back by popular demand/well not really but my optimism’s grand

A sequel to my Disney horse Rating post for all the other random non-Disney horses. Dreamworks, Bluesky, random cartoons, anything I could find. Featuring: Altivo, Spirit, some Barbie horses, and a few abominations.

Horse (Sing)

6/10 I don’t hate it and I feel like I should because it’s really hard to anthropomorphize horses that much without making them into the stuff of nightmares.

Shadowfax (The Lord of the Rings) 

5/10 There’s nothing WRONG with him per se, but it’s SHADOWFAX. Lord of all horses. He should wow me, and he doesn’t. Check out Gandalf’s weird sock-boots though. 

Hervé (Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper) 

-6/10 Horses' mouths don’t look like that. Horses’ mouths should not look like that. This thing wants to eat human flesh but can’t because it has two solid curved huge teeth with no physical  relationship with its jaw. Also this horse has the beginnings of male-pattern baldness. 

Princess Brietta (Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus)

1/10 Her eyes are flat like they’ve been painted onto her socketless skull. And there’s something very off-putting about this shade of pink. 

Beauty, Merry Legs, Ginger (Black Beauty) 

4/10 Ginger isn’t ginger. That is not a sorrel horse. There’s ONE requirement. Beauty’s the best of the three which is I guess what counts. 

Hans, Klaus and Greta (Ferdinand) 

2/10 I hate them so much. The core design isn’t that bad but the way they move and pose is. No horse should make that face. The one on the left is stretched putty.

The Grand Chawhee (All Dogs Go to Heaven)

I know what you’re thinking-- “isn’t that a mule or a donkey of some sort?” No. He’s a racehorse. Maybe a thoroughbred. And it’s his birthday so the other horses let him win. 

9/10

Stella (All Dogs Go to Heaven)

1/10 She gets one point for being nice to Chawhee. But she’s clearly some sort of alien giraffe hybrid. 

Odette’s horse (Swan Princess) 

7/10 Just a nice little palomino design.  

That little shaggy pony (The Quest for Camelot)

12/10 Amazing. Look at the determination.

Buck (Barnyard) 

2/10 See this is what that horse from Sing COULD have looked like. 

The Horse in the Back, Not Klaus But I Couldn’t FInd a Better Picture (Klaus)

9/10 He matches his owner and I respect that

Leah (The Star) 

4/10 This is horse is voiced by Kelly Clarkson. That has nothing to do with her rating, I just thought you should know. 

(Starchaser: The Legend of Orin) 

8/10 for both. I have questions but I do not want answers. It’s better this way. 

Fred (Over the Garden Wall)

7/10 don’t love that his head is a different color than his body in a weird way but he looks neurotic and fun. 

The Chariot Horses (Prince of Egypt)

8/10 I’ve just always liked these guys with their square faces and fun hats. 

Altivo (The Road to El Dorado)

7/10 Look at the little curl in his mane. Good personality. A little too much “Dreamworks Face” 

Donkey in Horse Form (Shrek 2? one of the Shreks) 

3/10 Look at his face. I DREAD what he might have to say. 

Esmeralda, Esperanza, Ernestina (Madgascar 3)

2/10 They’re coming for you. Coming to drag you into the Abyss. 

Police Horse (Madagascar)

7/10 I like his face shape. Compare him to the Madgascar 3 horses-- look how much more identifiable as a horse he is. 

Melvin (The Lorax)

10/10 He’s not a horse, but he’s so fluffy I love him. 

Babieca (Puss in Boots)

4/10 This horse has dead eyes. 

Onyx (Rise of the Guardians) 

13/10 She’s the leader of the nightmares and I would fully support her terrorizing the dreams of children. I’m pretty sure she and her mares ate the boogie man. A true Girlboss.

Yi Min (Kung Fu Panda but I think just an online game) 

-20/10 Just from a design perspective there’s far too much going on so it’s hard to even make it all out. Also I would have zero idea that this was a horse if the wiki page didn’t tell me it was. It has split hooves? 

Spirit Jr. (Spirit: Riding Free) 

8/10 Objectively I know the design is good  but my heart rebels against this show’s existence. 

Boomerang Thomas Stone (Spirit: Riding Free) 

8/10 I’m not doing all the horses from this show but I had to throw him in because he’s cute and he has a middle and last name for some reason.

Horse (Centaurworld) 

Why are there two distinctly different designs for her? This one gets a 9/10. The round one is like... a 5. All the other creatures in this show are eldritch abominations that will haunt me in my sleep now. 

Esperanza and all the other horses from this movie (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 

10/10 No notes. Perfect horses. 

Rain (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 

15/10 I don’t have a joke here I just really like the way they differentiated her and made her pretty without too much anthropomorphizing. I like that she has a roman nose.  I like her feather. 

Spirit (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron)

100/10 He’s everything. He shaped me as a person. No other animated horse can compare. 

[deer-knight]

six weeks post top surgery - i went for a run for the first time in 4 years. 

i used to run nearly every day. from around middle school to the middle of my time at uni i ran almost daily. i rarely missed it. i ran on roads, trails, the track, and almost always with my dog. he’s gone now, but he was my favorite running and adventuring company.

as my dysphoria worsened, running got harder. it brought me too close to my body. made me too aware. i couldn’t bear to do this thing i loved so much. at some point, i stopped running altogether. i found other ways to be active, but i just couldn’t run.

i ran today. not very far, and with a pause to cry and celebrate and catch my breath, but i ran. my body isn’t a cage anymore. i feel at home here now. i belong here.

i ran to the woods, and followed a trail that leads to a gorgeous overlook. i stopped there and i looked out at the mountains and the golden autumn sunlight on leaves, and i hugged myself and i cried and expressed my gratitude to the wind and the trees. i was always meant to be this way.

i wore a tshirt and cargo shorts and sunflower socks with the sneakers i hadn’t worn in 4 years. i used to have a small supply of running clothes. i’m not sure where they went, but this will do for now.

trans joy is important. it is essential. don’t give up on it. please. it’s worth it.      

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: April 2024

Admin & updates

PledgeManager

Earlier this month, we launched the PledgeManager, where shipping is being facilitated. If you missed it, you can read the initial announcement here. We have been adapting the FAQ page to add further recurring asks, so please do visit there if you have a particular query as a starting point. You can view this here. We are working through all queries received - some are taking a bit longer than others, as they need to be raised with PledgeManager, or others involved, so we appreciate your patience in these instances where we are yet to get back. The most common question, which we include here, is the sock sizes:

If you need to change your size, you have the ability to self-unlock your order and make any adjustments you need to. For socks that are part of a tier, there is a button to unlock and modify on the bottom of your receipt where you can alter your choice. If they were an add on, PledgeManager recommends that you remove the item from your cart and add it again with the correct size selected and complete their order to finalize the change.

Shipping

We are also aware of queries arising about the shipping rates themselves. While we have been open from the start of the project that shipping will be charged at a later date, we understand that the resultant cost has come as a surprise to some and that some prices are higher than expected. We want to be transparent on this: we have been working with our fulfillment partners on confirming product weights and the rates for shipping globally during the months since the project’s completion. The cost of doing this ethically - ensuring that everyone involved in the process from creators to those packing boxes is paid fairly, as well as ensuring the packaging is robust at this scale - is substantial.

We’ve done our best to minimise extra costs around shipping, while also not cutting any corners – we want your pledge rewards to reach you safe and sound. We have also subsidised costs across a number of territories, but costs for shipping to many locations remain high. The final thing we’ve done is lock in shipping costs now, a year out from fulfillment. We expect third party shipping costs to increase over the coming year, following the upwards trends across the board so far, but we will continue to absorb any subsequent rises.

We want to assure backers that the shipping does not include a profit margin for us, and every charge to our backers is something we’ve tried to minimise.

We absolutely understand that this is disappointing to many, and we endeavour to keep making the surrounding campaign the best it can be.

The timeline

The PledgeManager will run across 2024, and close at some point ahead of publication date (Spring 2025). When that date has been decided, we will give everyone as much notice as possible.

FAQ

As above, here is the centralised FAQ page. This will be updated over the coming year.

Cameos

Prior updates had noted the deadline for this has passed, however given the new publication date of the graphic novel, this has been extended slightly for God Tier and Archangel Tier backers. Please check your messages and emails if you backed either of these tiers and have not submitted your likeness.

Merch and more

Things are ramping up at Good Omens HQ, first of all with this delivery of one or two mugs at the warehouse:

We’ve also got David Aja’s print featuring Aziraphale, Crowley and Dog, in their glorious orangey hues which will appear in Serpent Tier+:

The trading cards are at the testing stage for game mechanics, while some of the early design prototypes are in for artist variants and we really can’t wait to start sharing these with you when they’re a bit further down the road. Almost there.

For those ready to capture your inner Pratchett and Gaiman on the page (Demon+), we have your notebooks:

More from Colleen…

We’ve continued to see gorgeous artwork arrive from Colleen and here’s one that slipped into our inbox this week:

And we thought we’d sign off this month with a glimpse at our favourite antiquarian bookshop:

[abnerkrill]

why you, yes you, should read the Queen's Thief books

for #WinASignedSetofTheQueensThief2024, I am here to gently yet persuasively yell at you about why you should read the Queen's Thief books, in a helpfully numbered list (no spoilers, only vibes):

I like unreliable narrators. You like unreliable narrators. You know who the most unreliable narrator is? This scrunkly little guy, blorbo of all time, Eugenides (Gen). You're gonna fall in love with him. You're gonna want to throttle him. It's okay, it happens to us all. (official character art by Emily B. Martin isn't it gorgeous!!!)

Tumblrinas far and wide are known for our love of ancient Greek and Greek-inspired fantasylands. What if I told you that we could have it all (coastal Greek-esque kingdoms, political intrigue, The Gods Are Getting Involved) PLUS there are, occasionally, guns. Yes you heard that right. It's great. Come for the fantasy, stay for the Fantasy Guns(tm).

I could wax poetic about the female lead, Attolia Irene, for approximately 25 years without drawing breath, but suffice it to say she is THEE fantasy queen of all time. Her arc is incredible. I want to be her. I'm scared of her. I adore her. PLEASE read these books so you can also fall head over heels for her.

DYNAMICS!!!!!!!! we have ALL OF THEM. kings and queens and vassals and loyal advisors and scheming diplomats and brave soldiers and anxious scribes and we toss them into a blender and see what happens and who lands where. it is delicious.

Did I mention The Gods Are Getting Involved? the way these books weave the political reality & the godly, mythical, numinous aspects takes my breath away. Truly the blueprint.

Twists and turns that fly by like a rollercoaster. Truly, no one is doing the Plot Twist like MWT. You start out on these books and you think you know where they're going. yOU DO NOT. And you will be delighted every time.

Incredible prose, with occasional excerpts of poetry and song and myth that provide SUCH fertile ground for lore and worldbuilding and delicious, delicious Character Parallels. If you've ever been into classical reception even a smidge, you will rejoice at the plentiful references.

Bro's Road Trip of All Time (book 5) will knock your socks off. If you ever read Eagle of the Ninth, it's kind of like that, but got me even more good. deeply moving, I am never getting over them, (wails to the sky) I just want to be able to read this book for the first time again so YOU SHOULD TAKE THE CHANCE WHILE YOU HAVE IT

anyway, what are you waiting for, go read queen's thief, you will surely not regret it, what are you talking about these books ripped my heart out ha ha ha ha but i mean in a good & fun way okay enjoy!!!!!!!!

[heartfullofleeches]

Maniac

Yans (Nerd, Bully, Student Council) + Dismissive Creep Reader Blurb [G.N All]

Warning: Bullying, mentions of dead animals, violence, death

(An: Never been huge of the school setting but this came up while listening to a song with the same title. If you can guess it you get a cookie)

Creep Reader who's friends with the school punching bag. Saying they're acquaintanced is a bit of a stretch as nerd hangs out with them because nobody bothers them when they sit next to this freak and they dress their wounds, and Creep only tolerates them because they take pictures of every blossoming bruise and cut.

You never offer input in their one-sided conversations, scribbling away in that notebook of yours as they go insane rambling on about what their bullies did that day and how it feels everyone appears to be out to get them. All you ever do with anyone is watch, listen, and write. It's honestly like talking to a brick wall sometimes.... which is why they had no problem accepting the only good advice ever given to them.

"Y'know.... Even if I report this to the principal it wouldn't stop. They'll get suspended for a few days and when they come back - they'll probably just kill you. If you want this to stop, you need to find a new target for them."

A new target...There's only one person more of a freak than them.

"Y/n takes pictures of dead animals."

The rumor spread like wildfire. A tale spun by a sock puppet account and sprinkled throughout the halls. Really, even they weren't sure if the rumor was true or not, but with that camera and your track record it wasn't out of possibility. All eyes were immediately on you. Your phone number was leaked and the threats and queries poured in. People would point at carcasses on the road and make sure you were in earshot when they joked about hoping nobody was taking pictures. They went so far as to sneak a dead bird in your bag when you weren't looking and poured milk on your items when they couldn't find any. They stole your gym clothes, wrote foul things on your desk and locket - but none of them had ever touched you.

As expected, you had no reaction to this. That's the thing your "friend" had always been jealous of you for. So closed off from the world, from the pain it gives. With nobody slamming their head in the lockers anymore, people began to appreciate their talents and hobbies. They made friends. Real ones. They naturally started to drift away from you, but they always stopped when they saw you in the halls.

"Hey, Y/n.... How have you been?"

"Fine."

"None of this is bothering you?..."

"As long as they don't touch me - I'm fine."

All that's where you left the conversation - and your friendship. Your dismissal to it all lead many to give up after a few weeks, but one remained. The same blight on your friend's life since the start of school. Sure, your reactions were lackluster - but they knew they could break you. It was only a matter of time - and you had just given them the key.

"Hey - Freak!"

Your head bounces off the metal door as you're thrown into your locker.

"Can't touch you, huh? The fuck are you going to do about it?"

You rise to your feet, touching the wet spot at the back of your skull. "If we're going to do this, it's better we do it where nobody can see us."

"Ha? - don't want people to see you lose a few teeth? Fine, I got a big game in a few weeks and rather not get expelled before then."

"Sure."

Your former watches as you're lead behind the school. They should do something, call a teacher - but they're too afraid. The weight of the situation falls on them as you disappear from sight. You're going to get hurt and it's all their fault. Your bully cooks up all the things they plan on doing to you, cracking their knuckles and damn near salivating at the thought of seeing your stone face crumple. They're too preoccupied with their threats to notice you pulling something out of your pocket. Their foot falls off the concrete path and into the grassy terrain as they ready their fists, doubling over in pain as pain splits up their side. They vomit spittle and their own words as they look up, metal bars wrapped around your hands.

"what....the fuck."

"Get up."

Gritting their teeth, the bully drags themselves to their feet - back on their knees before they can stand as your fist barrels into their stomach. You grab both sides of their head and ram your knee into the facture scar on their nose. You're unrelenting even as they fall back on their ass, removing your metal knuckles and mounting them as you ball your fists. You weren't ready for a murder charge just let. Over and over, your balled hand cracks against their face and jaw - drawing red with each wet smack. You stop only to switch you your unbruised hand - their arms shooting up in defense.

"please...."

"..."

"stop...."

"Isn't that what people ask you?"

You climb off their battered body, lifting one leg under your arm. "I've studied people for a while. Writing scenarios where I could ruin lives is much better for all of us than actually doing it. I know things about you too... Your family paid off your younger brother's teacher so he got get into that nice college - and you have a full ride... If you can still use both legs."

Tears prick their eyes. They fight to keep them in. This was their future you were playing with. "I'm sorry! I won't hurt anyone again I promise!"

Your grip tightens "I don't care about everyone."

"I won't mess with you anymore!"

They flinch as you drop their leg. "Good." Waking over to your discarded backpack, you retrieve your med kit and camera - dropping down beside them as you remove the lense.

"Smile."

Their eyes burn as the camera flash goes off. You set the camera aside as you open the kit and pull out an alcohol swab - pinning them to the ground as you apply it to their split cheek.

"Ow! The fuck are you doing now?"

"Quiet."

"Get the fuck off me!"

"You have a game in a few weeks, don't you? I don't think I broke anything, but you probably don't want the other team to see you with bruises."

-

The following Monday, your bully greets you all smiles and pleasant as if you were the best of friends. They could do the exact same thing as you and study you like an animal in a zoo to inact their revenge. Anyone who still picked on you quickly turned on their heels when they saw you with their click. They bragged while you were away about how they planned to tear your life to shreds so hard the damage would last long after school. It was going to be the peak of their year -

"Drink this."

"An energy drink? If you wanted to posion me, you could've done it with something better."

"The seal is still intact. No amount of chapstick will fix your dry lips, because you're dehydrated. An athlete should know better than that."

Their fingers instinctly fly to their lips. How did you?.... You did say you had been watching. They didn't know nor understand the full reach of your knowledge until they got a happy birthday message from an unknown number and a speaker ended up in a pool when they were urged to jump in. They had a fear of water since adolescence after nearly drowning at a lake. You never took charge for this acts and mostly blended into the crowd when they happened. You picked up your old hobby of patching their injuries and taking photos as payment. Why were you doing so much for someone who wanted to make you suffer?

"We're friends.... aren't we?"

Huh?

"Besides, if I stick with you, I don't have to look up gore sites anymore - or take pictures of dead animals."

You're such a fucking freak. A freak - that was starting to grow on them.

You became the person they'd look for first during school - when they needed a shoulder to cry on. You rarely offered comfort, but a pat on the shoulders was good enough for them. Their hand would find your shoulder or waist so frequently that rumors began spreading that you were dating - until people found out every touch was met with a light punch to their bruised ribs. They'd just laugh it off and apologize before doing it again an hour later.

Your former friend was having the time of their life - for a while. Something felt... artificial about their new friends. They had a good time at school and when they got together on weekends, but nobody was there for them at any other time. No one to vent to or wish them happy birthday exactly when it turned midnight - like you used you. They missed you. More than anything.

"Hey - give me Y/n's number."

Been a while since they've been in this scenario. Why was your shared bully asking them for your number?

"H-huh? Why?...."

"I had to get a new phone and can't remember the last digits. Stop asking questions and give it to me."

"Okay!"

The bully snatches their phone and punches the number into theirs - eyes softening as the line connects. "Y/n..... What? Of course it's me. I got a new phone. Anyway, I got tickets to that one movie that's coming out this week - the one that got pushed back because the prop knife turned out to be real? You coming or not?... Good."

Your former friend catches their phone as it's tossed back to them - watching their bully walk away with the flush of a middle schooler confessing to their crush. They hadn't been hit at all during the altercation, but their chest hurt hearing your voice after so long away from you - even faintly.

They find you the next day at the top of the roof. It was your favorite hiding place, and the only one your bully hadn't found yet. They sit quietly beside you.

"How have you been?..."

"Fine..."

They purse their lips together. "What...did you do to make them stop?"

"Put them in their place."

"What do you mean by that?"

You point your camera at the passing crowd. "At our age, people only have as much power as you give them. If you stand your ground they'll typically back down, and if they don't - you beat the to a pulp and ruin their families lives."

Your friend can't stop the tears from flowing. You had always been the strong one, that they knew - but how could you handle things so easily? How could they betray you like that? Their only companion in this world - thrown to the wolves when you should've been their for each other.

"It was you wasn't it?"

You stand up.

"Stay away from me."

They reach out to grab you - mend the tattered strings of your friendship. "Don't leave me. I did it, okay? I did it, and I'm so so sorry. Y/n, please forgive me - I couldn't take it anymore. I'd go back to the way things were if it meant you were still with me. Please, Y/n, I'm in lo-"

Their vision blanks, speckles of blood littering the ground floor from their split lip. You lower your hand back down to your camera.

"Don't lie to me. Or yourself like that."

It hurts... Everything hurts.... Still, they smile - showing you the bloodied whites of their teeth.

""ahhh.... Y/n, I'm... I'm bleeding. Don't you want to take a picture of me? Aren't I still beautiful to you? Aren't I good enough?"

You don't grace them with a reply, walking off as they curl into themself. It hurts - their mouth is numb, but it hurts all over. Please, come back. Let them their their head on your shoulder until the pain goes away. Y/n... Please.

"I'm sorry...."

"But are you really though?"

They cover their ears with their hands. Shut up. Go away. If they'd done their job probably - none of these would've happened. The student council president. The worthless coward didn't even have the courage to come themself. Just another lackey doing their bidding.

"Leave me alone."

"Ugh, you're so whiny. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I just wanted I break - I didn't mean to hurt them."

"Yea, yeah that's what your like always says. Misery sure does love company, though. I genuinely don't see what the prez likes about that fucking creep. They're wasting their time and blood for them."

Shut up. "Don't talking about Y/n like that?"

"But you had no problem with it when it was for benefit. What did you call them? A psychopath?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go....."

"Keep telling yourself that. I can't decide who'd I'd take more - the backstabber, or the maniac."

"SHUT UP!"

-

Walking down the steps to the first floor, you crash into someone skipping their way in the same direction.

"Ah - Y/n!" The student council president grins, picking up your fallen camera. "Good morning, good morning! And how are you doing ok this lovely day?"

"Fine."

"Faaaantastic." They point at their cheek sweeping blood on the shell of your camera. "As you can see here, I had a little bitty accident in my culinary class. I'm such a clutz, aren't I? If you give me one of those cute bandages, I'll take a picture of this cut and smile real pretty for ya!"

"Whatever." The president hums as you fish around in your bag, smiling big for their future spouse - deleting as many pictures as they can of others in that short time. If only they hadn't been out sick when the rumors spread. Then maybe you wouldn't be on that awful bully's arm and in theirs instead. They refused to let this little setback running your future together. After all, they were willing to bleed for you on their own Accord unlike everyone else in your album.

Unfortunately, they were upstaged once again - but their own council member too. They frown as the screams begin. They spit on the floor as blood splatters across the windows.

Couldn't go kill yourself somewhere else?

-

At the rooftop, panic takes flight. No no no... They didn't mean to do it. Their hands flew out before their brain could tell them no. The blood pools like a broken jug. A crowd surrounds the body. Nobody can see them from their place on the roof floor, but they can see everyone. A figure wearing a jacket that was once theirs, dyed with their blood and tears. The camera that hangs around that person's neck. The shutter of the lense. They laugh - finally understanding what they had to do to get you back.

You really did like taking pictures of dead animals afterall....

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[beomiracles]

「 CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE 」

SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

pairings: criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader warnings for tape 01: mentions of drugging/drug use. oral (f, rec), marking.

GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

✎ NOTE, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.

the tape recordings

tape 01 ─ stay away from Choi Beomgyu

February 19th 2024 ─ present time 

You hated being late. You hated feeling rushed, the way things would always turn out half-assed. Yet you had turned off alarm after alarm, snoozing past at least five of them before finally pulling yourself out of bed with a groan. 

Though one glance at your phone has you rushing to your feet. There was no way you’d make it in time. Pulling on your shirt, looking everywhere for a pair of socks, toothbrush in your mouth. Having to redo your ponytail three times because your stubborn hair refused to lay flat and you’d run out of hair gel. 

One hand on the steering wheel and one applying lipstick messily all over your lips, you sway past the cars on the crowded roads. Parking was easy, you almost made it on the first try this time. 

Stumbling your way through the hallways of your office building, earning rather confused looks from your colleagues. Finally you make it to your office, your own private space. Breathing out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind you, you glance at the clock. Only five minutes late, that was 300 seconds and... 

“That’s not important now”, you sigh as you drag your feet over to your desk. There’s an unfamiliar file on top of your rather large pile. Frowning, you pick it up. Just as you’re about to open it and have a look your phone chimes. 

You bring the device to your ear, “you here yet?” Yeonjun's voice carries over the line. Rolling your eyes, you sit down on your desk, “of course, what do you honestly think of me”,  you snort. 

“Nevermind, don’t”, you then add with a groan. Your colleague chuckles on the other side of the phone. “You seen the file I left for you?”, he asks. You turn said file over in your free hand, “you left it?”. Yeonjun hums, “I need you down in the interrogation rooms in about fifteen, that okay?” 

“Of course, I’ll be there in ten”, you grin and Yeonjun scoffs, “i’ll bet”. You hang up and shove your phone in your back pocket before you make your way toward the interrogation rooms. 

The sound of your heels clacking along the stone floors fill the now empty hallway. Your ponytail swings in tune with your steps and you reapply your favorite red lipstick. Red had never been a color of your choice, but it had been someone else’s.

Another echo of footsteps join yours and soon a voice calls out, “miss y/l/n!”.  Turning around on the spot a smile finds its way to your lips, “Huening!”, you exclaim as the younger man approaches you. 

Huening had this boyish appearance that made him look youthful and innocent. No wonder so many of your female coworkers had a thing for him. Your own history of lovers, on the other hand, were far from anything and everything Hueningkai represented. 

The younger man gives you a shy smile as he hands you a mug of coffee, “you seemed to be in a rush earlier so I…”, he trails off as his gaze falls on the mug in his hand. “Well…”

“That’s very considerate of you, thank you”, you say as you take the cup from him. Bringing it up to your lips you smile, “how did you know I love lattes?”.  The tips of Huening’s ears turn pink, “I er…just y’know, went with my gut feeling…”. 

A small giggle escapes your lips, “never stop trusting it”, you say as you give his shoulder a pat. The younger man’s ears turn from pink to a flaming red as he nods. Clearing his throat he glances at the file in your hand. 

“New case?”, he asks and you nod. “I’m about to meet the suspect just now”, you say as you take a sip of the coffee. On your way you had gone through the pages briefly. To be honest you would need at least thirty minutes to just sit down and read through them. But time was a luxury you couldn’t afford today. 

Huening nods as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, “perhaps…when you’re done, we could get lunch together?”.  It was impossible for you to decline his sweet request, “I would love to”. Your younger colleague beams as he takes goodbye of you. 

Sipping on your coffee, your red lipstick stains the cup. Eyes scan the papers one last time as you approach the interrogation room. Yeonjun meets you by the door, “you got the files?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yes, though I’ve barely had time to go through them thoroughly”, you admit as you recall your rushed morning. Yeonjun shakes his head, “don’t sweat it”. He brings out a file of his own as he reads a few main points to you. 

“23, male, brought in yesterday night at 1.22am”. Yeonjun flips the paper, “he’s under investigation for murder and attempted arson”. You nod along as you sip on your coffee, arson and murder wasn’t an unusual combination. 

“Any witnesses?” you ask and Yeonjun shakes his head, “none have come forward”. You frown, “how is he linked to the crime?”. Your colleague puts his files down as he turns to look at you, “victim’s DNA on him”. 

Your eyebrows raise in evident surprise, “really?”. Should no other evidence or witnesses surface the man would be as good as guilty already. Yeonjun nods as he unlocks the door for you, “good luck, I’m on the other side of the glass at all times”, he reassures and you give him a thankful smile as you step inside. 

Your heels echo inside the small and dark room as you approach the table in the middle of it. Not looking up from your files you slide down on the chair opposite the man. 

“You are being investigated for the murder of Park Baekhyun as well as the attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney, keep in mind that anything you say can be used against you in court”, you say as you place your files down on the table. 

The man in front of you looks up and your eyes widen. His dark eyes pierce yours in such a familiar way that you almost have a hard time controlling your breathing. Lips curling into a smirk as he looks at you.

But that can't be him, it’s impossible, yet he looked exactly like… 

“Beomgyu?” 

Your mouth betrays you before your mind has the chance to stop it. Beomgyu’s smirk only widens as it exposes his shiny teeth, the same teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. 

He lets out a short laugh, “dollface, it’s been a while hasn’t it?”. 

You want to yell, shout, cry, possibly even throw your coffee in his face. But you do nothing. The smirk on his face doesn’t falter as Beomgyu tilts his head to the side, studying you, as if trying to calculate your next move, you knew he could. 

Though before he has the chance to, the door behind you clicks open. Yeonjun enters with a frown plastered on his normally expressionless and professional face.

“You know this guy?”, he questions and you nod without taking your eyes off Beomgyu who’s smirk only widens. “Know? That’d be an understatement”. Yeonjun gives Beomgyu a short glance before he beckons you to follow him out. 

As the doors to the interrogation room closes behind the two of you, Yeonjun turns to you with a sigh. “What on earth is going on?”. You chew on your bottom lip hesitantly, “well, I sort of…we sort of….” “were something?”. You nod, “yes, something like that”. 

“It was a long time ago though”, you quickly add in a rushed tone and Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Exactly how long is long ago?”, he questions. 

You nervously scratch at your forearm as your gaze wanders, anywhere but Yeonjun’s eyes. “I haven’t seen him in ten months..”, your voice is hushed, shameful even. And you were ashamed, ashamed of having any sort of connection to a man like that. 

The look your colleague gave you might as well have had you resigning on the spot. “Jesus christ”, he mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll take you off the case, we’ll find someone and─” 

“No!” 

The words leave your lips before you even have the chance to consider them. Why? You had no clue, but you knew that you wanted─ no, needed this case. Maybe it was only to satisfy your own curiosity or perhaps it was to gain some sort of closure. Either way you knew that this case could not go to someone else. It had to be you.

Straightening your back, you glance up at Yeonjun as your arms fall to your sides. “I’m confident that I can do this”, you state as you hold his gaze. The older man gives you a look of disbelief but your persistence eventually makes him cave as he sighs. 

“Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand, you’re out”. 

You smile, “thank you”. Yeonjun nods, “well then, if you’re ready then go on back inside”. 

The silence as the doors close behind you to the interrogation room is deafening. Glancing down at the table you notice your coffee cup missing. Beomgyu turns said cup around in his hands as he studies it closely. 

“You like your coffee black”, he states as you sit down opposite him. Why would he remember that? Why did your stomach jump at the fact that he did remember such a detail? You push it aside as you look up to meet his gaze, “things change”, you say as reorganize the files in front of you. 

Beomgyu grins, “not you”. He leans forward as his cuffed hands rest on the table in front of him, “you look just the same”, he mumbles as he studies your face closer. You refuse to lean back, that would mean that you were scared, that you would let him win. And you wouldn’t, not this time. 

“Well luckily we’re not here to talk about me”, you give him a small smile and watch as he leans back in his chair with a small grunt. 

“Last night”, you begin as you glance down at the files once more, “you were at present at Park Baekhyun’s property between the hours of 10pm and 1am, what were you doing there?”. 

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek as he grins, “cleanin’ up a mess”. You raise an eyebrow as you question him further, “what kind of mess?”. He smirks, “well certainly not the ones we used to make”. You swallow as you try to dismiss anything he says. 

“What kind of mess was my question”, you repeat and Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “One of my employees messed up, he’s new, I don’t blame him”. His eyes flicker toward the glass window on one of the walls, certainly aware of the fact that Yeonjun was on the other side, even though he couldn’t see him. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds as his eyes shift back toward you with a mischievous glint. “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” he smirks as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“I went easy on you the first time”. 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Beomgyu to this day. 

March 28th 2022 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. Everyone will be there!”, your friend Kayla whines as she tugs at your arm. You shake your head, “no, everyone you know will be there”. Finally pulling yourself from her grasp you flop back down on your bed. “It’ll just be awkward to bring me along”, you mutter. 

Though your friend won’t have it. “Well if you’re not going then I’m not either”. The bed squeaks as she takes place beside you. The two of you stare up at the ceiling of your small apartment in silence for about thirty seconds before Kayla starts once again. 

“Pleaseeeeee”, she whines as she rolls over on her side to look at you. Giving you her best pout and puppy eyes you finally give in. “Fine, but you better not leave my side”. 

The first thing Kayla did was leave your side. Running off to wrap her arms around that no-good boyfriend of hers. You swallowed a gag. The club was hot, smelled like alcohol and sex, and was absolutely crowded. 

You instantly regretted coming here. You knew no one, and without your only friend, your introverted self could count on a lonely night. Quietly making your way over to the bar, you order yourself a drink in an attempt to drown your regret. 

As you sip on your drink, your eyes scan the dance floor after your friend. Though all you could make out were half naked bodies pressed against one another. You found your eyes wandering over to the small booths by the sides of the main floor. They were secluded, but far from private. 

Then your eyes fell on him. He wasn’t your type, at least you thought he wasn’t. Maybe it was the liquor, or the overwhelming sense of loneliness you felt that night. But when your eyes locked with his, you swear the two of you could’ve been the only people in the room. 

Sprawled out on the sofa to one of the booths, two of the prettiest girls draped over him, drink in his hand, mid conversation with one of the guys next to him, yet his eyes remained on yours. 

One of the girls plays with his long dark hair as she whispers into his ear. He smirks as he brings his drink to his lips, over the rim of the glass you catch the subtle wink he gives you. Your heart skipped a beat. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on. Or even just subtly flirted with, but this, this felt different. This man was far from anything you had ever laid your eyes on, you felt intoxicated but you weren’t so sure that it was because of your drink. No, there was something about him. 

So you did the only reasonable thing, you winked back. 

The man’s smirk only widened as his free hand moved up the inner thigh of the other girl. She squirmed under his touch, emitting small giggles as she leaned in to kiss at his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, eyes still trained on yours. 

No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. He was so… “Don’t even think about it”, Kayla mutters as she appears next to you, causing you to jump in your seat. 

“What?” you question as you finally pull your gaze from the man and to your supposed friend. She rolls her eyes as she motions towards the man, “him”. “Don’t even think about starting anything with that man”. 

You frown, “I wasn’t…”─ “oh no but you were”, she cuts you off as she orders a drink of her own. “That man is no good”, she continues as she leans against the bar, “only uses girls for his own pleasure, you’ll get hurt”. 

You scoff, “what if I only seek pleasure”. Kayla frowns as she turns to look at you, “then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, he is no good”. Receiving her drink she takes a large swig and you set your own empty glass down. 

“How do you know about him?” Kayla had never even mentioned the man to you before and you were curious to know her history with him. Your friend shakes her head, “used to be close to this one girl, then one night she’s off with him”. 

Kayla sighs as she takes another sip of her drink, “next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her mind”. Your eyes widened, Kayla had never even mentioned anything like this to you, perhaps you could understand why. 

She points her drink toward the man again. His hands roam the bodies of the girls who cling to his sides as they whisper sweet nothings into his ears. “That, is what that man will do to you”, she states as she downs the last of her drink. “Besides”, she shrugs, “I have never seen him with the same woman twice”. 

Setting her glass down, Kayla pulls herself from the bar, “I gotta get back to Jim”, she gives your cheek a quick peck, “call me when you’re ready to go home, yeah?”. She scurries off onto the dance floor before you have the chance to reply. 

Sighing, you return your attention to the bar as you order yourself another round. Whilst waiting on your drink you feel a hand on your shoulder. Startled, you turn your head to be met by an unfamiliar man. He gives you a polite smile as he introduces himself, “Hwan” .

You can’t help but smile back, “Y/n”, you say and when he asks to join you, you comply. Hwan takes the seat next to yours, “how come I haven’t seen you before, you new in town?”, he asks as he orders himself a drink. 

You shake your head, “no, just not a fan of clubs I suppose..”. The man nods, “I see, then I must’ve been real lucky to catch you here”, he grins and you giggle, “indeed”. 

“You here with a friend or boyfriend?”. “Just a friend, she sort of forced me along”, you say as you sip on your drink. “So no boyfriend then?”, he asks, leaning slightly closer. 

Just as you’re about to tell him no, a tall figure appears behind him. His presence makes the hair on the back of your head stand up. Hwan, inevitably notices the man as he turns around in his seat with a frown. 

“Can I help─”, he begins but is quickly cut short. 

“Scurry off”, the man who you’d locked eyes with previously says. Hwan glances between you and the man in a confused manner. When you don’t say anything he finally gets up as he gives you a small bow. 

The man from earlier clicks his tongue as he takes Hwan’s seat, quickly calling the bartender over, “I’ll have what she’s having”. 

A small silence falls over the two of you and you nervously grip your glass. What was going on? You had certainly seen the same man with two girls all over him not less than ten minutes ago. Why was he here? With you?

Sneaking a glance at him you find him already looking at you. His eyes study your face in an almost calculating way. Though he doesn’t say anything, the smirk that etches its way onto his face gives away that he likes what he sees. 

As he gets his drink, the metal rings on his fingers make a clinking sound against the glass. He takes a sip as he continues to study your face. You shift in your seat, feeling rather uncomfortable under his intense gaze. 

“Choi Beomgyu”, he then says. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name, a piece of you, to the man your friend had previously warned you about. But this man intrigued you, almost like a forbidden fruit that you know you shouldn’t eat. Yet you can’t help but wonder, could one bite be so bad? 

“Y/l/n, y/n”, you say as you set your glass down. Beomgyu’s smirk widens. “You come here often?”, he asks and you shake your head, “rarely”.  He hums against the rim of the glass, “you didn’t really strike me as the type anyway”. 

You can’t help but frown at his answer, “then what type is that?”. Beomgyu raises an eyebrow as he glances toward the dance floor, you follow his gaze. “Her”, he mutters, “and her, her, her and her”. 

You take in the appearance of the multiple half naked girls, pushing anything and everything they could onto the nearest stranger. Beomgyu’s eyes snap back to yours, under the blues and purple of the club, they glint in an almost starlike way. 

“But not you”, he states. 

“Not me”, you agree as you finish your drink. You look at him as you brush a strand of hair from your face, “then perhaps, you’re striding outside of your usual target group”. 

Beomgyu tilts his head, “I’m not opposed to trying new things”.  

Maybe it was the liquor, or the fact that Kayla had already warned you about him, or maybe it was the way his eyes drugged you stronger than any other substance could. But you found yourself wanting more, if he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?

And perhaps that was why you had let him lead you upstairs. Let him close the door behind you, sealing you away from the world. Let him push you back against the soft mattress of the foreign bed. 

And maybe, just maybe that was why you had let his hands wander. The same way they did those girls not even an hour earlier. The cold metal of his rings digging into your soft thighs as he pushes them apart. 

When his lips found your neck, they were soft. You had little expectations of the man currently between your legs, however, his lips being soft, had not been one of them. And he’s gentle, a lot more than you had expected. He takes his time exploring you, as if you were an exotic and foreign artifact. Something that he had never before come across. 

His large hand cups your face as he exhales, letting his warm breath fan your face. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down before he pushes it inside. Your tongue immediately wraps around it as your eyes lock with his. 

“You’re so pretty”, he murmurs as his free hand brushes through your hair. “Pretty like a doll”,  his eyes wander down your body. “Made out of porcelain, untainted and perfect”, he whispers as he pulls his thumb from your mouth. 

His now saliva coated thumb presses against your clit in a menacing way as you squirm beneath him. “And such a pretty pussy too”, he groans as he leans down to ghost his lips over where you need him the most. 

His tongue drags between your folds, drawing moans and whines from you as you grip onto the bed sheets. As his tongue dwells deeper, Beomgyu uses his hands to roughly massage and grope your thighs, making sure to leave you blue and purple. 

Occasionally inhaling before diving right back at your cunt, his nose stimulating your clit just enough to have you see stars but never a shooting one. Beomgyu groans between your legs at the sheer taste of you. 

“Need more”, he grunts as he pulls you closer to his face. “You’ll give me more, won’t you dollface?” 

You nod furiously as your thighs close around his head. Finishing all over his face with a small cry as you grip the bed sheets enough to cause ripping. 

As your orgasm fades and all that is left are your trembling legs, Beomgyu finally pulls himself from your cunt. Nose, lips and chin coated in all of you. His dark eyes find yours as he smirks, “I like you dollface”, he states. 

“I’ll keep you”. 

And that was, exactly, how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

A/N ─ EEEK, it's finally out!!! please please please drop some feedback I would love to hear your opinions >.< also this Beomgyu is such a 180 degree turn from pretty princess Beomgyu so it's been a little challenging to write but I am loving it so far!!

✎...taglist @beomtasticc @beomies-world @leeminhosairfryer @baekberrie @fairyofyeongyu @lunathewritingcat @archoive @baemgyu @yunjinsbbg @velvetmoonlght @luvsyuqii @seokqt

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ★ all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[joelhoney]

do u take requests? if u do, could i have an outbreak au where reader rides joel in his truck? thank u! i LOVED #1 girl btw

open road

wanted to practice my writing skills again so here! :)

warnings: 18+ !!!! smut, pwp, implied age gap, feminine reader, daddy kink sry, pet names galore

“One of the guys called you scary.”

The sky is dull, something bland and colorless in-between blue and grey—something that’s become a norm. A clear, cloudless sky comes once every few months if a trickle of luck happens to dwell upon the area, but even for a pair that travels as much as you and Joel do, the memories of that kind of weather have become few and far between. Joel is grown, though, and he’s wise, and he knows there isn’t any good that comes out of complaining over something as trivial as this.

Anyway, he’s got a whole little ball of sunshine beside him, feet propped up on the dashboard clumsily.

“Hm. What’d you say?” He grunts back, trying to hide how the comment has begun to make him think. He’s not new to the entire scary bit, but every time the comment arises he finds himself wanting to know your thoughts, if you agree, if you know he doesn’t mind the reputation as long as you find him the opposite.

“I said no, you’re just old.”

You’re in your socks because you hate the weight of the boots you wear, and you’re wearing one of his old shirts, from years and years ago, thin with wear and the collar cut off so it hangs across your collarbones. It’s your favorite, this ratted brown color with a band on it that performed when you weren’t even born yet, you think. Joel likes this one, too, he won’t tell you just how much; he just hopes you don’t pick up on the fact that he fucks you all the more harder whenever you wear this around him.

“I’m not old, sugar.” 

“You are old. Older than me and the guy who said you were scary.” A lithe hand comes twisting at the grey hairs on his temple. He tuts and you pull back, giggling out an apology. “When’re we getting there?”

“Slow down. The open road is a blessin’, don’t you think, sweetheart?” To Joel, everything is a blessing in the height of such an uncertain time—a blessin’, in his vernacular, his drawled-out twang. It’s his turn, now, to reach across the console and wrap a hand around your thigh. It tickles, and you tense through the material of your jeans. Sometimes you wonder if you can wear your dresses on tasks like these, ones not so high in urgency, but with a destination nevertheless. You want a clicker gnawin’ off your leg, be my guest, he said once, and that was that.

“I guess,” you muster half-heartedly, fingers skating along the expanse of Joel’s hand. Two of your fingers align with one of his own. Outside the scenery is mostly grey, barely green, lifeless, but interesting anyway, the ruins and the rot, blatant reminders of what you’re all living in the thick of.

You swallow and wrap a hand around his wrist. “Do we need to be there now?”

He huffs out this laugh between exasperation, and quickly he presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms. “So soon?” He’d just eaten you out before you left less than two hours ago, the hem of your shirt stuffed into your mouth so nobody would hear. You buck up into his hand, which has now left, and whine lowly in your throat.

“That wasn’t fair,” you bemoan, chasing his hand. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

“I’m jus’ try’na enjoy the road, dove. Back then, this’d be drownin’ in traffic. People beatin’ the five-thirty rush. Now it’s jus’ you and me.” He hums some song, this soully little thing, one he likes to sing on the road when it’s just you in the car. If anyone else tags along, he’s silent. 

“Jo-el,” you whine. “No fair. You got me all wet.”

He sucks air in through his teeth, pats you lightly on the smooth surface of your cheek without even having to spare you a glance. “Be patient with me, sweetheart. We need to get there in time.” There’s an edge to his voice, hardened a bit; he’s not reminding this time, he’s warning. You pout and peek out the half-cracked window. Open road and the dim horizon, no sign of the building you’re supposed to stop at.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out like a sneer.

He clicks his tongue. “I said patient.”

“I am being—” you huff, crossing your arms and lowering your feet noisily. “It’s not fair that you touched me and then won’t even let me—let yourself—whatever.” You shuffle, bumbling irritatedly by yourself for a minute. 

If you ask Joel, some of his best moments come from getting you to behave.

Because you are virtually impossible to wrangle into some semblance of obedience. It used to be next to impossible to even get you to shut up, but over time it got easier—thumb on the pad of your tongue, knee shoved in-between your legs, hand wrung into your hair. Just like that, and you’re his pliant little baby again. If you ask Joel now, he’d sigh contentedly, say how proud he��s become that you’re no longer the bratty minx you once were.

But that would be a lie, he figures, once he hears the exaggeratedly breathy moans from his right.

He doesn’t need to look to know what you’ve wrapped yourself up into, your hand shoved into your unzipped jeans, rubbing slow circles along your pussy. It probably doesn’t even feel as good as it sounds, even if you make noises with everything he does to you. Feels so good, Daddy, you whisper into the air, and he trails a hand down to squeeze himself through his jeans.

“How good, baby?” He grunts, eyes flitting over to you. You, in that goddamn t-shirt and everything, looking delicious enough to eat. He’d told you once never to wear shit like skirts and dresses, but God the amount of times he hoped you’d wear them anyway, so he could bounce you up and down on his dick and have you barely undressed. He swears he has dreams of his favorite pink number, the one that barely even touches the middle of your thighs, tied at the back with a pretty ribbon. He loves tugging on that ribbon, watching the material loosen around you so he can grope you up and make you both feel nasty, listen to your jagged moans of daddy, don’t rip the dress while he’s toying with your clit.

“Not enough,” you say breathily. “S’your fault.”

“Mine?” He echoes with a grunt. “You’re the one whorin’ herself out t’me for a lick of my attention, baby girl.”

“Please, I’m—just a minute,” you heave out, voice wet and desperate. He wonders what’s gotten you this antsy, this restless, this needy for a taste of him. The thought gets him harder than ever, and before he even thinks to palm himself, your tiny hand is already there, and he’s shuddering from it. You know him so well, know exactly what to hold, exactly what to touch to get him to give in.

“Jeans,” he orders, eyes zeroing in on a blank patch of grass to swerve into.

Your jeans are loose already, and you barely have to shimmy before they hit the floor of the truck, tiptoeing your sock-clad feet out while he parks and wrenches his seat to a semi-lying position, dragging you over to him to sit on his lap, your thighs quivering on either side of his jeans.

You adjust yourself so the thick of his cock is pressed directly to your panties, and grind forward. He stops you, his hand coming down to slap against your half-bare ass. “I just wan’ed to get to the damn meeting on time, get the shit we needed, and go the fuck back to the zone.” Another spank. “Do you have to be such a goddamn brat, sweetheart?”

“I just—I needed you,” you half-lie, the lace of your pretty underwear delicious friction with what little movement you’re allowed. “Even wore the pair you like, Daddy.”

“Yeaaah, you did.” He sucks air in through his teeth, watching your cunt swallow the thin material of his favorite pair of yours. Pink and lacy, looted from a mall two cities away. “You know Daddy can never resist her, can you?” He thumbs roughly at your pussy, coercing the panties through your folds. “You know he’s dyin’ to fuck ‘er real bad, too.”

“Need it, I need it,” you babble, your movement causing the shirt to droop off. He gropes at your barely-covered chest, a low growl thrumming out of him. 

“What’s got my bunny all revved up, huh? Your energy beats the truck’s damn engine.” He lifts you up so he can let you drop onto his cock, bullying his tip into you until tears sprout at your eyes from the size of him. He’s always going to be huge, and it’s always going to be a whole thing, having to bottom out inside.

It helps that you’re wet, sopping and dripping onto his cock, his balls, his spread thighs, your own inner thighs—your slick is everywhere and it’s obscene. Every movement either of you make causes a squelching sound to resound across the stale space of the truck. “Fuuuck,” he grunts, watching your cunt swallow him whole. “I love this pussy, you know that, honey? Could lick her up for days, mark it as mine. Bully her when you’ve been bad.”

“I haven’t been bad,” you protest highly, eyebrows knitted and pink lips bitten. “You really are scary.”

“But you like it, don’t you?” He places two decisive hands on your hips and thrusts upward, so hard your head almost hits the roof of the truck. “Like it when Daddy’s a l’il bit scary, sugar? Like it when he spanks you, plays around with you a tiny bit? Hmm?”

Ah, ah, ah, uh, mmmf are all the sounds your mouth can produce, drunk on his huge cock, fat and splitting you in half. Ye yea yeah yeah please yes Daddy love it, you moan, each whimper punctuated by the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. You do love it when he’s bossy, a bit scary. He knows so. He knows how wet you get when he’s got your chin in his hand, cheeks smushed together. How much you drip onto the sheets when you’re bent over, spread open, and he’s deciding which hole to fuck.

“Makin’ a beautiful mess on my dick, baby, come on, give it t’me. Give Daddy your cum, I’ll give you mine back, won’ I, princess?” His gruff voice is demanding and rambling and all at once, you’re beginning to convulse around him.

“Close,” you whimper, “gonna cum, Daddy—”

“Yeah, come on, that’s a good bunny,” he grunts as you begin to gush slick around him. “Daddy’s gonna give you the milk you’ve been wantin’.”

[ghostybaby000]

Browsing

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygato @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard

Simon didn’t ever complain when you had asked to go to certain places, or to stores where you could look at things for hours. He really didn’t say much on those trips, other than the occasional ‘I like it.’ Or ‘It suits you love.’ 

You always enjoyed having him with you while shopping, even if you were the only one you felt was excited to go sometimes. He never said no to going and insisted on driving to anywhere you had needed to go, as long as he was with you. You felt a certain guilt when it came to using his free time, feeling like he would rather be watching a game or catching up with old colleges over a drink, although he never said so himself. 

Today you were in a smaller store, one where you could easily remember where something was, or not have too much to look at, music playing quietly over the outdated speakers. You walked in with Simon just behind you, pausing as he grabbed a basket to head inside, he knew you were destined to leave with something from your favorite store. 

You began to walk up and down the smaller isles, gently touching vases and mugs that were strewn about, smaller trinkets like coin purses catching your eye. Simon didn’t ever stop to look at similar things, maybe a set of socks would make him pause, but he never ended up buying much. You continued to look around, today not finding anything that had sparked your interest, instead making your way to what you had originally come in for.  

You made your way to the cleaning section of the store, on the hunt for trash bags and a scrub brush. You lead the way as Simon strolled behind, showing no sign of being eager to leave. You found a stand of candles and made it priority to smell them, holding them up for Simon to smell as well. Most of them were far too strong, or had a scent that you felt would give you a headache if you had to smell it for much longer, Simon enjoyed watching the faces you made at those you didn’t like. One of the candles however was calm and felt cozy in the small store, Simon gave his nod in agreeance. Closing it you set it down gently with the others as you continued your journey. 

You found the trash bags quickly along with a scrub brush that was a much needed change from the one you were using now that had been through quite a few messes.  Simon walked over to place the basket back as you paid, although he had offered you simply declined, telling him that it was a treat enough to have him drive you. You made your way out of the store, Simon extending his arm to you instinctively as you began to cross the road. Light rain began to pitter on the pavement as you made your way around to the passenger side of the car, where Simons hand beat yours to the door, opening it for you to get in. 

You spend the rest of the night together watching older movies as the rain poured on outside, looking to one another when a crack of lightning illuminated the house. You both fell into bed later on, easily drifting to sleep with the sounds of rain beginning to fade as Simons warm arms wrapped around you. The next morning you woke later, Simon already had left for the day, his side of the bed far more neat than yours. You turned over onto your stomach, moving yourself slightly onto his side where the mattress dipped to fit him, breathing in deep you hoped to get a smell of him before starting the day. Getting up you find the weather to be gloomy, likely following yesterdays rain, and decide to tidy up the house while Simon was away. Instead of the TV you put on music to work to, knowing that if a juicy show came on you may not be able to resist sitting to watch it. 

This didn’t work as well as you’d hoped, stopping whilst cleaning the counters or mirrors to have a solo with the bottle of cleaner as a microphone. You spent the next few hours cleaning, taking the occasional moment to have a snack and water, growing more tired with every pause. Finally feeling satisfied with the cleanliness of the house, you got in the shower to wash away the dirt and dust you felt were embedded into your skin. Opening the bathroom door, the chill of the bedroom prickling your skin, you find your way to the closet and into some pajamas. 

Flopping onto the couch, you grab the blanket that had been draped over the back, clicking on the tv as you did so. Your eyes felt heavy as you flipped through the channels, your head jolting to keep you from sleep, you wanted to be awake when Simon returned. 

Simon turns the key to the door with a familiar *click*, slowly pushing it open to find most of the lights off. He set down his things on the counter as he made his way towards the living room, when he sees you. Your arm hanging over the edge of the couch, the remote moments from falling. Your small noises of sleep being muffled by the TV, snacks on the table that hadn’t yet been opened, it made him smile coming home to such a sight.

Gently he grabbed the remote and tucked your arm to be under the blankets, turning off the TV and placing a kiss to your forehead he made his way into the bedroom. His boots were the only noise to fill the house as he made his way into your bedroom and began to undress. He slipped his boots off along with his shirt, grabbing a towel he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. 

You slowly open your eyes, a distant sound bringing you from your sleep. Sitting up you see light coming from the bedroom just across the hall and recognize the noise to be the shower, he was home. Stretching your back with a few pops from how you’d been sleeping, you make your way to the kitchen to get water. You stared to the floor as your hands clicked on the kitchen light, the brightness making you shut them again. After a moment or two you open your eyes, only for them to lock on to Simons belongings.

You feel a warm joy as you walk over to where he had placed his things, the candle you had liked from your outing to the store yesterday, placed neatly next to them.  Again you pick up the candle, taking the lid off and smelling it you feel tears begin to form. 

You are pulled out of the moment as the bathroom door opens, followed by Simon walking out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He pauses as he makes his way out of the room, seeing the light on and you standing in the kitchen, a small sniffle as he walks towards you. 

You set down the candle as you open your arms to him, his own strong arms wrapping around you. You look up to him, your chin placed on his bare chest,

‘You didn’t have to do that Simon.’  His eyes come down to meet yours, then moving as he pushes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. His voice reverberated in his chest as he spoke in that low tone that had you on edge for every next word. 

‘I know I didn’t. I wanted to.’ Looking at him for another moment, you let your head rest fully on his chest feeling the drum of his heartbeat as you pressed your ear closer to him. His damp skin still beading with water as he swayed ever so slightly back and forth, the smell of his skin embedding into your brain, you didn’t want to ever let go. 

[gamblersdoll]

semi nsfw, older!logan, kinda mean? and not necessarily foot play but borderline.

“you shouldnt be with me, bub.” a gruffer voice rumbled from his throat, his foot still on the gas and hands on the wheel. “im alot older than you and uh.. not good with people.”

“so howd i get in your car, logan?” you ask, eyes lingering off of his muscles practically busting out of his jacket.

he wasnt as ripped as he used to be. hes older now, his young days far over. the grey hairs are hid face and head were just littering him. his smokers cough interrupts him at first, but he speaks.

“you came in here on your own, idiot.”

“yeah? but you aren’t complaining, nor trying to kick me out.” you say sing song, leaning over the armrest and squeezing his bicep. he looks to you, then back to the road. “and i dont think you want me gone, do you?”

he thinks for a second, then brushing you off.

hard to get, huh?

“cant leave you stranded, girl.” he says, pressing on the brakes and looking at you again. “youre still kinda young, right? go find someone whos your years.” and he goes right back to looking at the road, finger tips tapping at the wheel.

“nah, i think ill do what i want.” you say, turning your back to the car door and pulling your foot out of your shoe, hiking up a leg and pressing your foot softly against his lap.

“the hell are you?—“

“focus on driving, you dont want us to crash, right?” you tease, sliding your socked foot up and down his lap, feeling his semi harden up. “so mean, for what reason?”

“i have to drive, you know?” he rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to not smirk at your ambition. hes trying his hardest to not groan at the curve of your foot against his cock, but its getting hard when you have such a beauty in your car, touching you.

hes trying so hard.

so, so hard.

“youre one hell of a ride, you know?” he chuckles, taking a hand to your foot and squeezing it. it stops your mannerisms, pulling away and putting your foot into your shoe. “how about this..”

“i take you home and ill show you a good time, yeah bub?”

[goblinontour]

In A Good Way

back home and it seems he’s trying

part 8 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff, angst (tiny bit), smut, dry humping, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv, period sex

word count: 9.7k

The journey back to London was tinged with melancholy. Summer was nearly over, and the return to reality loomed closer with each passing street lamp. Alex would soon resume his work, and you had classes starting again. Heading home a little early was a smart decision, driven by the need to get settled again before the hectic routines resumed, but it didn't make leaving any easier.

Alex had insisted on you driving. Despite the new car, he was still uncomfortable behind the wheel for such a long drive. You suspected he might be even more intimidated now, just by the unfamiliarity of it. Sometimes he’d even admit to missing the quirks of his old one. But his excuse this time was Sock.

“He might get scared. We’ve never had him in a car before.” Alex said, his fingers gently stroking the small cat cradled in his arms.

But, as it turned out, Sock proved to be far braver and less apprehensive than his dad. The little cat took to the car with that kind of fearless curiosity, typical of kittens, his tiny nose twitching as he inspected the seats and the dashboard. Alex’s concern melted into quiet amusement as he watched Sock’s antics, his nervous fidgeting easing by the second.

The late summer sun cast a golden glow across the countryside through which you drove, bathing everything in warm light. You glanced over at Alex, unable to help but admire the way the sunlight caught in his hair, making it shimmer as he moved. He looked so beautiful, ethereal, his features softened by the glow, and for a moment, everything else seemed to blur into insignificance. But unfortunately you had to bring your eyes back on the road. 

Alex’s attention was entirely on Sock, who, in the meantime, had decided the dashboard was the perfect spot to nap. The kitten stretched out, soaking up the warmth of the sun, where the rays hit him just right. And, within minutes, he was fast asleep, his small body rising and falling with each breath.

Alex smiled softly at the sight, his fingers continuing their absent-minded caress of the leather car seat. “I guess he’s more of a natural at this than I am.” he murmured, half to himself.

You reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. “You’ll get used to it, Alex. Just takes time.”

He nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “He’s so cute, isn’t he?” Alex murmured, more to himself than to you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out to gently scratch behind Sock’s ears, his fingers moving with unmatched tenderness, same as he would do to you. 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, he is. Just like his dad.”

Alex glanced at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Trying to flatter me while I’m already down?”

You laughed, the sound filling the car. “Just stating the obvious.”

The rest of the drive was filled with comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional soft purr from Sock. Alex’s fingers played absently with the kitten’s fur, his gaze somewhat distant yet peaceful. The sun continued to cast its light as it set, creating a halo around Alex’s head that made him look almost like an angel.

As you approached the city, the skyline of London, which you’ve come to call home, came into view, a sharp contrast to the serenity of the summer spent up north you were leaving behind. 

Navigating the busy streets, you finally pulled into your spot by his building. Alex carefully picked up the now-awake Sock, cradling him close. “Welcome home, little man.” he whispered. 

Leaving the bags in the car to deal with later, the two, well, three of you headed up to the apartment. The thought of unpacking could wait. Tonight, you both just wanted to relax. 

Inside, the familiar comfort of home wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The place felt more lived-in now than when you’d first started coming over. 

“Want tea?” you heard Alex call from the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” you replied. But before doing anything else, you desperately wanted to change into something more comfortable. You grabbed one of his t-shirts he left at home and put it on. It was long enough that you could just stay in your panties underneath. 

You joined Alex, and Sock, in the living room, the kitten already exploring his new surrounding. It seemed like you could never be alone with just Alex anymore, but you didn’t mind. The small, furry presence was a more than welcome addition to your lives.

“Here, love.” Alex said, handing you a cup of tea.

“Thanks.” you said, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread through you.

“Can you hold him for a bit? I don’t want to bother him with my smoke.” Alex asked, referring to his more than occasional cigarette habit he couldn’t seem to break. Though he never really tried. 

You took Sock from him, cradling the kitten in your arms as you settled onto the couch. Alex stepped back into the kitchen, the flicker of his lighter casting a brief glow. You watched him through the glass door, his silhouette framed by the lights outside. Even in such a mundane moment, there was something captivating about him, the way he moved, the way he simply existed. Sock purred contentedly, curling up in your lap and kneading his tiny paws into your shirt. 

When Alex returned, the smell of smoke lingered faintly on his clothes. He sat next to you, his arm draping over the back of the couch. “Missed me?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with that familiar spark.

“Always.” you replied, leaning into him. Sock adjusted his position, taking a spot next to Alex now.

Alex pulled you closer, guiding you until you were sitting across his lap, curled up under his arm. He started to stroke your back gently, his touch soothing and warm. His other hand moved to your chin, his fingers light and tender as he lifted your face towards his. He angled your face slightly, leaning down until his lips brushed against yours. 

The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, his lips pressing so lightly it felt like a whisper. You could taste the lingering bitter earthiness of the cigarette he had just smoked, a taste that mingled with his natural aroma. His hand slowly slid down your body, tracing the curve of your spine and holding you close against him.

You felt Alex’s body start to melt under you, his form relaxing as he slid lower into his spot on the sofa. His kisses grew more confident, yet maintained the gentle pace. His hand continued its journey, leaving a trail of warmth wherever it touched, as if he was memorising every inch of you. 

His grip on you tightened slightly, his hand sliding lower as his hips began to move, very lightly, almost as if he didn’t want you to notice. But with only your underwear underneath his t-shirt, you could feel him very clearly through the thin fabric. 

“Only a kiss and you’re already poking at me.” you teased. 

“Sorry…Your breasts and legs are very moving.” he replied, his voice low and husky. He pulled you completely flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours. “Especially pressed up against me like this.”

You could feel his smile against your skin as he kissed your temple, his lips warm and soft. He trailed kisses down your jawline, and his fingers traced light patterns on your back, adding to the delicate, almost teasing sensations.

His hips continued their gentle movement, the pressure and friction building in a way that was both torturous and delightful. Each subtle thrust made your breath catch, even more so when his hand slipped under the hem of the t-shirt, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb circling your nipple in a way that made you gasp.

Alex’s eyes sparkled with a playful glint as he confessed, “I feel like a teenage boy seeing boobs for the first time.” You giggled into his neck. His candidness sent a flutter through your chest.

Without warning, Alex grabbed your hips and pushed them down as he thrust up into them, a bit harsher this time, just to prove his point. “Ah! I almost ejaculated.” he joked.

You couldn’t stop yourself. You burst out into laughter, hiding your face into him for a moment before pulling back and looking at him. 

The look on Alex’s face was a mix of satisfaction and amusement, clearly enjoying your reaction. His hands remained firmly on your hips, holding you close against him. He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he kissed the side of your face again. 

“Sorry.” he murmured, though his grin suggested otherwise. “I just couldn’t help myself. You’re perfect.” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him again, pouring all your longing into the kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, and you could taste him better now. His hands stayed on your hips as he continued to rock against you. The feeling of his hips moving against you, the heat and hardness pressing into you through the thin barrier of your underwear…It all made you ache for more, but you couldn’t fuck him, not now. 

His kisses moved lower, down your neck to the sensitive spot just above your collarbone. He sucked gently, making you moan softly, your body arching into his touch. His hand, back on your breast, squeezed lightly. 

“Alex, not tonight.” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

His response was a low growl, his hips grinding harder against you for a moment before resuming their gentle rhythm. He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. “I want you so much.” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You bit your lip, feeling torn. “I can’t, Al. You know I’m on my period…And I’m also really tired.”

“I know.” his eyes softened with understanding, but there was a persistent heat in them. “I won’t take long,” he said softly, “I just need this for a little bit longer, just a tiny bit. Please.”

You sighed, nodding. “Okay.”

Alex’s hands moved quickly, pushing his pants lower. There were no buttons to fumble with. Easy access. Just what he needed. He pulled his boxers taut over his cock, the fabric stretching as he continued to thrust up into you, rubbing back and forth right between your lips over your underwear. 

“Just a moment.” he said, his voice strained with need. “Kiss me.” He made a playful ‘mwah’ sound, puckering his lips towards you. “I like to get kissed when I fuck.”

“You’re not fucking me.” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Feels like I am.” he defended, pointing to his lips again with his free hand. 

You leaned in and kissed him, and he moaned into it, the sound vibrating through your body. His hand gripped your hip tighter, holding you in place as he rocked against you. Back and forth. And back. And forth. His moans grew louder, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, to make this last a little longer. He didn’t want it to be over just yet. You could feel the tension coiling within him, ready to snap at any moment.

Alex broke the kiss, his breath hot against your lips. He bent his head back over the edge of the headrest, exposing the long line of his neck. The angle made his Adam's apple bob as he breathed, each rise and fall mesmerising. You could see the veins pulsing beneath his skin, pumping his blood with every heartbeat.

“Oh fuck…I’m gonna-” he cursed, his voice rough and desperate. Gently, he pushed you away just a little, needing the space as he desperately shoved his hand inside his boxers, stroking himself with urgent, frantic movements. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth slightly open as he let out a series of low moans. 

You watched, transfixed, as his orgasm overtook him. His head fell back even further, neck arching gracefully, exposing every inch of his vulnerable throat. The tension in his body reached its peak, and you could see every muscle strain. 

His breathing grew erratic, shallow gasps mingling with soft whimpers as his hand moved faster, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from his body. 

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Alex’s body convulsed. His hand stilled, and you watched as the cum slowly began to seep through the material of his boxers, darkening the fabric. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh, the last waves of his orgasm rolling through him, leaving him breathless and spent, his body sagging against the couch in exhaustion.

With a contented yet slightly embarrassed smile, he withdrew his hand from his underwear, the fingers glistening wet with his release. He glanced down at the mess, chuckling softly before wiping his hand on the dry part of his boxers.

“Needed to change anyway.” he muttered, his voice still husky with the afterglow. He used his now-clean hand to brush his hair back, smoothing it away from his forehead. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, which he wiped away quickly. 

As he settled back, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, he caught your gaze and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about the mess.” he said, glancing down at your thighs. You followed his gaze and noticed some of his cum had gotten on the insides of your thighs from when he was guiding your hips earlier.

You couldn’t help but smile at his sheepish expression. “Don’t worry about it.” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I aim to please.” you teased softly.

Alex chuckled, his arm wrapping around you to pull you close again. “Mission accomplished.” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

You yawned as you cuddled into him, the warmth and comfort of his embrace making you feel drowsy. “You should go to bed, sweetheart.” he said softly, petting the back of your hair.

“Mmm…I’m fine here.” you said, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I need to shower.” he said, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes through your hair. “Want me to clean you up too?”

“No, it’s fine.” you told him, still not letting go.

“Go to bed then. I’ll shower and put some food out for Sock and then I’ll join you, yeah?”

You nodded sleepily, finally allowing him to stand. As he disappeared into the bathroom, you made your way to the bedroom, your limbs heavy with exhaustion. You climbed under the covers, the warmth and softness enveloping you as you drifted closer to sleep, but you wanted to wait for him.

Moments later, you heard the shower stop running, followed by the soft clinking of dishes as Alex presumably took care of Sock’s food and the rest of the stuff left lying around. He eventually joined you, his presence a familiar and comforting weight on the bed. He slid under the covers, pulling you close once more, and you sighed, feeling safe in his arms.

The next morning, Alex was out early, bringing up all the bags and then heading out to wash the car. When he finally came back home, you were lounging in bed, engrossed in a book. You hadn’t bothered to get ready at all since you weren’t planning on going out, so you were just in a pair of his underwear, possibly stolen, I mean, borrowed, and a simple top.

Alex walked in, immediately noticing the title on the cover: ‘Blow Him’. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Hmm, whatcha readin’?” he asked, taking off his sweaty vest and tossing it at you. And it landed right on your face.

“Nothing.” you replied, throwing the vest right back at him.

“Oh please, I know you still read that kinky stuff.” he teased as he flopped onto the bed next to you. “Pass me the glasses, please.” he said, pointing to the nightstand on the other side from him. 

You handed him his glasses. He rarely wore them, and never outside. You’d only seen him with them a few times while he worked in his office or while he read. He didn’t like how they looked on him, but you thought they suited him well.

As he put them on, you couldn’t help but admire how they fit on his nose, resting gently on the bridge. The thin, black frames hugged his face perfectly, accentuating his sharp features. The glasses seemed to soften his overall appearance, almost making him look younger in a way. His hair, a bit longer now since he hadn’t cut it in quite a while, fell around his face, the ends curling slightly at his ears. The frames of the glasses contrasted beautifully with the tousled strands. 

It was a rare sight, one that you were grateful to see. Alex adjusted the glasses slightly, pushing them up with his index finger. 

“You look good in those.” you commented, a warm smile playing on your lips.

He glanced at you over the top of the frames, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “Thanks.” he murmured, the hint of self-consciousness in his voice only making him more endearing.

As he settled back with his own book, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. A few moments later, you heard him say, “Oh.” He shuffled next to you, fishing something out of the pocket of his jeans. “Look what I found.” he said, pulling out a…vape? “They had a vending machine full of these things at the car wash. I see everyone using them. Have you tried?”

You put your book down and plucked the vape from his hand, reading the flavour: strawberry. “You bought a vape?” you asked, incredulous. You didn’t know whether to laugh at him or take him seriously.

“Yeahhh, that’s what they’re called. I thought it looked cool.” he said with a grin.

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Alex shrugged, still grinning. “Figured I’d give it a try, maybe lean off the cigarettes.” He took the vape back from you and took a tentative puff, coughing slightly. “You wanna try it too?” he asked. 

You watched him, amused. “Not really my thing, but I’ll watch you make a fool of yourself.”

He laughed, leaning back against the pillows. “Shut up, I’m adapting. So, are you gonna tell me about that book or not?”

“Nope.” you said firmly, picking the book back up and turning it so that he couldn’t take a peek. But now, you couldn’t focus. He was right, it was another one of your dumb kinky books, and he came in at the completely wrong time. Or perhaps the right. You were getting flustered, having him next to you and reading that. And he could tell.

Alex noticed the way you were squeezing your thighs together, glancing at you but not saying anything since you didn’t want to share. But how could he stay away when he could see your nipples harden and poke through your top? He gently marked the page in his book and put it on his nightstand. He turned back to you and softly reached out with one of his hands, brushing over one of your nipples.

You didn’t protest, so he continued, flicking it with his fingers over your top, occasionally squeezing lightly, and eventually he got a soft moan from you. That was enough for him. He plucked the book from your hands and set it down next to his, taking off his glasses and setting them down as well.

“Come on.” he said, his voice low and inviting.

You looked at him, your breath hitching as his hand continued its gentle exploration. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air getting thicker. Alex’s eyes were dark as his touch kept growing bolder, leaning in closer.

His fingers slipped under your top, finding your bare skin and drawing circles around your nipples. You gasped. Alex’s touch was both gentle and demanding, a perfect blend that left you craving more. 

He patted his lap, signalling for you to come sit. “Come here.” he said softly. 

“I can’t have sex with you.” you hesitated, biting your lip.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m not gonna fuck you. Just come sit already.”

You nodded and did as he said, settling over his lap with your legs on either side of his hips. He reached for the hem of your top and pulled it off, tossing it aside. His hands found your hips, guiding you slowly. The rough material of his jeans felt so good against your pussy, even through the barrier of his boxers you were wearing. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you found your rhythm, moving against him. 

He followed your movements, his hands helping to steady you. “Feel good?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You nodded, feeling shyer than usual for some reason. Maybe it was just the hormones. Probably. The sensation of rubbing against his jeans was overwhelming, each time you moved just right making you shiver over him. 

Alex bent forward, catching one of your nipples that were bouncing in front of him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers teased the other.

As you looked down at him, you were captivated by how he looked. His dark eyes were so big, and his hair fell around his face in soft curls. The sight of him, lips wrapped around your nipple, looking up at you with such rawness, made your breath hitch. His touch, his gaze, everything about him in that moment was just…

“Fuck.” you moaned, leaning your head back as you let him work on you. 

Your movements became more urgent, grinding harder against him. Alex’s hands tightened on your hips, guiding you with more insistence. His mouth moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, while his free hand roamed your back, pulling you closer.

The friction, the heat, the intimacy of the moment…It was all too much and not enough at the same time. You felt a moan building in your throat, but somehow you couldn’t even get it out, too focused on moving your hips. Alex’s eyes never left yours, his connection grounding you even as you felt yourself spiralling.

“Al…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I know, love. I know.” His words were a reassurance that he was right there with you, feeling every bit as much as you were.

It felt good. He felt good. But he needed more. The jeans were too thick, the pressure of the rough material both a pleasure and a barrier. But this moment was about you. He focused on you, on how you’d gasp when you rubbed against the harsher part around his zipper. He tried to guide you there again and again, relishing the soft sounds of pleasure you made.

Each time you moved against that spot, a shiver of delight ran through your body. His hands were steady on your hips. He leaned back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His fingers traced light patterns over your thighs. “You're so beautiful.“ he murmured. 

You smiled, the shyness melting away under his gaze. “Thank you.” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was slow and deep, and his hands moved to your back, holding you close as he continued to guide your movements. The friction of his jeans against you was intoxicating. You could feel the tension building, the heat pooling low in your belly.

Alex leaned back, his eyes dark with hunger as he watched you. “Use me.” he commanded softly, “Do whatever feels good.”

You obeyed, moving against him with increasing urgency. Each shift of your hips brought you closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment heightened every sensation, making you hyper-aware of his every touch.

Alex bent forward again, capturing your nipple in his mouth, again. Your breaths came quicker, your movements becoming more desperate. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue teasing you mercilessly, while his fingers pinched and tugged. The sight of him so focused on your pleasure made your breath hitch. 

The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your body shuddered as the pleasure crashed over you, your hands clutching his shoulders for support. Alex held you steady, his strong hands gripping your hips, guiding you through it. His mouth never left your nipple, his tongue and fingers continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your pleasure.

As the tremors subsided, you slumped against him, breathless and spent. His hands gently stroked your back, his lips pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.

“That was good, right?” he whispered. 

You smiled weakly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah.” you murmured as Alex's hands continued to caress your skin, grounding you in the aftermath. 

After a few minutes you started to lower yourself down his body, your fingers moving to the waistband of his jeans. You began to unbutton them, but he stopped you, his hands covering yours. “You don’t have to.” he said softly.

“You said you wanted to know about the book.” you replied, pushing his hands away gently and undoing his pants, pushing them down his hips. Alex lifted himself slightly, helping you lower them further. 

You palmed him over his underwear, feeling the shape of him through the fabric. He was still painfully hard from how you had rubbed against him earlier. Alex’s breath hitched at your touch. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile as you continued to tease him through the thin material. “Yeah,” you said, your voice soft, “I want to.”

Alex’s hand moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he watched you intently. The anticipation between you was thick, every touch and glance charged with it. You could feel his arousal, the growing wetness under your palm.

With deliberate slowness, you slid your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him. His head fell back against the pillows, a groan escaping his lips as you began to stroke him. 

“Fuck.” he muttered, his hips lifting slightly to meet your movements. “That feels so good.”

You leaned in closer, slipping his cock out of the material covering it, standing in your way. You licked the tip slowly, pushing harder with your tongue as you reached the slit. His breath hitched, his body tensing. 

You pulled back, one of your hands going to rub his tummy, asking him, “Does this feel good too?”

He didn’t have it in him to speak anymore. He’d strained himself for too long, he felt like he was going to explode. He just nodded, his fingers tightening in your hair to silently beg for more. 

You took him into your mouth again, this time deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. Alex’s hips bucked slightly, his hand guiding you with a gentle pressure. The sensation of your tongue and the heat of your mouth drove him wild. You could feel his want, the way he was barely holding on, even though he tried to push you away at first. 

You wanted to give him everything, to push him over the edge. His pleasure was your pleasure, his need your command. He did just the same for you.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breathing becoming erratic. “I’m close.” he managed to choke out, his voice strained.

“Already?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye. Again, he nodded, his face flushed with concentration, entirely focused on the release you were quickly coaxing out of him.

You shifted your attention to the head of his cock, pushing down the foreskin until it was fully exposed. It was a beautiful sight, flushed and pink, swollen, the tip glistening with precum and your saliva. You could feel the pulse of his need throbbing under your tongue as you licked it like a lollipop, savouring the salty taste and the way he shuddered with each pass of your lips.

Wrapping your lips tightly around the head, you began to suck, creating a delicious pressure that made him gasp and moan even louder. His hips bucked again, a clear sign of his desperation.

“I wanna come in your mouth.” he managed to say, releasing the lip he had been biting just to get the words out. “Did that book say anything about swallowing?” His voice was strained, struggling to form coherent sentences as he edged closer and closer to finishing. 

You nodded, keeping him firmly in your mouth, not wanting to let go. The look in your eyes must have conveyed your answer clearly because he groaned in satisfaction.

“Good girls swallow, don’t they? You’re good, right?” he said, his voice trembling.

Your response was to tighten your lips around him even more, sucking harder. His grip in your hair became almost painful, but you welcomed it, knowing it was a sign of just how close he was. 

His body tensed, his moans turning into a low, guttural growl as he reached the peak of his pleasure. You felt the first hot spurt hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed eagerly, not missing a drop, proving just how good you could be for him. He was whimpering, almost sounding like he was crying, as you continued to suck. You felt every twitch and tremor in your mouth.

His grip in your hair loosened as the pulsing of his cock began to slow. He was still making little sounds, now softer. You sucked gently, not wanting to miss anything, until you felt him go completely limp in your mouth. The last few twitches were weak, and you knew he was done. Spent. 

He gently pulled you off him when he couldn’t take any more, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Show me your tongue.” he said, his voice shaky but still commanding. His breathing was uneven, though slowly coming back to normal as he watched you. 

You obediently stuck your tongue out, showing him that there was no trace of his release left. He looked down at you, his face flushed, his expression one of deep satisfaction. There was something endearing about the way his double chin showed from the angle, a vulnerable, almost innocent look on his face despite what had just happened. He studied your tongue for a moment, ensuring you had swallowed everything, and then he let out a big breath, almost a moan, settling back onto the pillow.

His eyes fluttered closed briefly as he exhaled deeply, a sound of pure contentment escaping his lips. He looked peaceful now, the tension gone from his body, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender. “Book taught you well then…My good girl.”

You felt a warm glow of pride at his words, knowing you had given him exactly what he needed. As he lay back, you curled up beside him, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. 

You were in the office, working on some stuff you needed to get done before heading back to university. Your laptop wasn’t charged, and you were too lazy to wait for it, so you borrowed Alex’s computer momentarily. As you went through the documents you’d downloaded, a bunch of folders caught your eye. Curiosity got the better of you, you couldn’t help but snoop.

The folders were full of pictures of Alex, some sorted by year, some just mixed together. One particular image, showing a very young Alex, filled the screen. 

“Alexeeeex!” you shouted, unable to contain your surprise.

He came over from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What’s up?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t shown me these before. ” you said, turning to him with a smile.

He walked over, a smile spreading across his face as he saw the photo. “Oh wow, I haven’t seen those in forever.” he said, perching himself on the edge of the chair, one of his thighs resting on yours while his hand splayed on the back, balancing himself to avoid putting all his weight on you.

You turned your attention back to the screen. “Is this you? Little Alexander?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yep, that’s me. I think I was around 12 in that one. Maybe 13? My mum must’ve taken it.”

You scrolled through more pictures.  Each one told a story, some from his awkward teenage period, some early adult years. A glimpse into his past that you hadn’t quite seen before. “You were quite the looker back then too.” you teased, glancing up at him.

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh please, don’t embarrass me.”

“This is gold.” you said, laughing softly. “You were so adorable.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer to look at the screen. “Yeah, I guess I was. Mum used to take a lot of pictures. She said she didn’t want to miss a single moment.”

“I’m glad she did.” you said, clicking on a particularly funny photo of him with a goofy grin. “These are priceless.”

He smiled, his hand moving to gently stroke your hair. “Well, feel free to look through them. Just don’t judge too harshly. I went through some awkward phases.”

You continued to scroll through the pictures with him, enjoying the glimpses into his past. But then, you started to notice a pattern forming. Almost every picture featured the same woman with him. She was strikingly beautiful. There were candid shots of them together, laughing, different settings, moments captured over time. And then there were some of just her, seemingly…clearly taken by Alex.

The woman appeared often as you kept skipping through the pictures, her presence undeniable. Alex looked a bit younger in these photos, but they couldn’t have been taken that long ago. Your heart began to beat a little faster, a mix of curiosity and unease settling in your chest.

Alex tensed slightly next to you, his body stiffening. He didn’t say anything, his silence heavy. His mind raced, trying to find the right words. You shouldn’t be seeing them, he thought, Can they stop, please stop. 

The discomfort was palpable. His fingers tightened around the back of the chair, his jaw clenching subtly. He felt exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated, old memories resurfacing uninvited. The photos were relics of a past he hadn’t planned on revisiting, especially not with you. Not now when he’d been doing good.

As you continued to flip through the images, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wanted to reach out, to stop you, but his voice seemed to falter, stuck. 

And then you came across one that made you freeze. Your heart skipped a beat. It was taken in a mirror, by him, showing them both naked and laughing. It felt too intimate, too recent. 

It reminded you of the picture he took of the two of you, almost the same, except that was taken here, and the one on the screen seemed to be from his old place, the one where you’d just spent all summer together. The familiarity of the scene hit you hard. The way he held the camera, his arm wrapped around her waist, both of them grinning at the reflection. It was eerily similar. Your mind raced, comparing the two moments. The same affectionate look in his eyes, the same carefree laughter. 

Alex’s hand covered yours over the mouse, his grip firm yet gentle as tried to close the window on the screen. He couldn't bear to see more, and he certainly didn't want you to see any more. “Let’s not.” he said softly. 

Despite Alex’s attempt to close the window, you couldn’t stop. You kept a firm grip on the mouse and clicked to the next picture, and the screen filled with another image of them, slightly different but just as intimate. They were in the same mirror, the same setting, but this time, she was looking up at him, her eyes filled with adoration. The next one showed them mid-laugh, his head thrown back in a moment of pure joy. Another click revealed her leaning in to kiss his cheek, his eyes closed in contentment.

Picture after picture, you saw variations of the same scene, different angles, different expressions, but always the same underlying connection.

Alex’s body tensed more with each click, his discomfort obvious. He hadn’t realised he still had these photos. He didn't know what to say, watching your reaction, the way your eyes flickered with each new image.

“Can we...Can we stop this?” he asked, his voice strained. Now he didn’t want to see more. His hand pushed yours away, his touch firm but still gentle as he closed the window on the screen. 

You finally looked up at him. He didn’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the now-blank screen, his hand still resting on yours. 

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. The warmth and closeness from earlier now felt tainted by a shadow of uncertainty. Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I…I didn’t mean for you to see those. Those...they’re…you shouldn’t have to see them.”

“Who is she?” you asked, your voice tinged with a strange mixture of curiosity and jealousy. It was odd to feel this way, knowing you had no right to be jealous of his past. You were aware you weren’t the first person he was with, or loved, but seeing him like that with someone else still stung.

Alex finally met your gaze, his eyes searching yours for understanding. Before he could answer, you shook your head slightly. “Never mind, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I do. I mean- I- I know I don’t, but I want to.” he stuttered, clearly struggling with his thoughts. He took a deep breath, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. 

“She was someone I was with for a long time. It was serious…I thought she would be the one.” Alex paused. “Maybe I was stupid for thinking that. I was still young, and looking back now, I realise how naive I was. I thought we’d have forever, but it ended…not so well. She cheated on me…I guess that’s what I deserved.” 

Hearing him speak so harshly about himself made your heart ache. You hated seeing him in pain, especially when it was clear he was still dealing with the scars of his past. But you knew he needed to get it all out, so you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“I had this whole future planned out.” he went on, his grip on your hand tightening even more as if to anchor himself. “But maybe we just weren’t right for each other in the end. I don’t know.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of his memories pressing down on him. “It’s hard to admit how wrong I was…How much time I spent believing in something that wasn’t real. I feel like I wasted so much of myself on it.”

He sighed deeply, the sound heavy in your ears. “I think that’s when I started feeling so insecure about myself, and I began locking up everything inside. It was like a switch flipped, and I just couldn’t trust the same way anymore. It’s been hard to open up again, you know…”

“I know.” You gently squeezed his hand, wanting to comfort him but also knowing he needed to express this pain. “You weren’t stupid, Alex.” you said softly. “You were hopeful. You loved deeply. I think it’s beautiful…I love being loved by you.”

Alex brought your hand to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. He then rubbed your hand gently over his cheek, like he was petting himself with it, while looking at you with those big eyes through his eyelashes. 

“It’s beautiful.” you continued. “Loving you, being loved by you…It’s an honour, Alex.”

His eyes softened even more, and a small smile played on his lips. He almost curled up onto you, forgetting about his earlier attempt to not put his weight on you. But he was little anyway,  you didn’t mind.

“It means a lot…hearing you say that. You make me wanna cry…” he murmured, his voice quiet, slightly muffled, “In a good way.” He nestled closer, his head resting against your chest. “Sorry for ruining the moment. I’ll have to sort them out better.” he joked, trying to ease the tension.

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You didn’t ruin anything.” you assured him. “We’re just talking, sharing. It’s good for us, for you.”

He sighed contentedly, his body relaxing against yours. “Yeah, it is.” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Why didn't you tell me about her before?" you asked softly, the curiosity and slight hurt in your voice unmistakable.

“It never seemed important.” Alex said. 

“You don’t have to pretend, it seems like a big part of your life you never spoke about.”

Alex shifted slightly, his body tensing for a moment before he let out a deep sigh. “I guess...I guess I was trying to protect myself,” he admitted, “Talking about her, about that part of my life, it's always been hard. It’s like reopening old wounds, and I didn't want to burden you with it. Even though I already have…But now you know.”

He took another deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “I know what those must’ve looked like to you. I know how my own thoughts spiral sometimes, and I don’t want you to ever feel that way.” His grip on your hand tightened, as if willing you to believe him through his hold. “I don’t want you to think that I’m using you to fill some void she left.”

You could see it in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression. He was laying his heart bare, actually talking to you and not hiding himself. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He stayed there, nestled in your arms, his head resting against your chest as he took comfort in your presence. 

Then, suddenly, Alex sniffed the air, his eyes widening in alarm. “Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed, quickly scrambling out of your embrace and running towards the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” you called out, hurrying after him. 

“I forgot I had stuff in the oven!” he yelled over his shoulder as he rushed to the stove, a faint trail of smoke beginning to waft through the apartment.

When you got to the kitchen, Alex was already pulling open the oven door, a cloud of smoke billowing out as he grabbed his pair of oven mitts. He quickly took out a tray of what looked like charred remnants of what would have been dinner. 

“Oh no.” you murmured, trying to stifle a laugh. “I think it’s a bit beyond saving.”

Alex groaned, setting the tray down on the counter with a resigned sigh. “Got so caught up with everything, I completely forgot about it.”

You placed a comforting hand on his back, rubbing small circles to soothe him. “It’s okay. We can order something or try making something else.”

He turned to you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face despite the situation. “Yeah, maybe takeout is the safer bet for tonight.”

Just then, Sock trotted into the kitchen, his nose twitching as he curiously checked out what all the fuss was about. Alex’s grin widened as he picked up the cat, cradling him in his arms. “At least he still has food.” Alex giggled, scratching Sock under the chin.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fully dissipating. 

Sock purred peacefully, his eyes half-closed as he soaked up the attention. “You’re lucky, lil man. No burnt dinners for you.” Alex said.

“Speaking of dinner,” you said, reaching for your phone, “What do you feel like ordering?”

“Anything that doesn’t require me to remember the oven.” Alex replied with a chuckle.

As you placed the order, Alex set Sock down and began tidying up the kitchen, clearing away the disaster left burnt on that tray. Despite the minor disaster, everything felt right. 

You’d been curled up in bed all morning, trying not to wake Alex, but he felt you shuffling next to him. Your periods weren’t usually bad, but since the birth control, you had days like this sometimes. Days where the cramps were relentless, and the fatigue made it hard to move. 

Alex felt useless. He wanted to help but didn’t know how. He didn’t want to piss you off even more by being too pushy or overly worried, so he just hovered nearby. He got up a few times, to make you coffee and grab some painkillers, but he always came back to check on you, anxious to provide any comfort he could.

When he returned this time, his hair was a wild, untamed mess, looking bigger than usual despite him not doing anything to it today. His pyjama pants hung loosely, low on his hips, as he slipped back into bed next to you. 

“Feel better, love?” he asked, his arm wrapping around you to turn you around and kiss your face. His concern was palpable, his touch gentle as he tried to gauge your state.

“Yeah, better now.” you said, turning fully onto your back, nudging him to move from his side and hover over you. You wanted to feel his weight, his warmth. 

Alex shifted, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked down at you, his hair falling around his face like a tousled halo. “I wish I could do more for you.” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what else he could do to help.

“You being here helps.” you assured him, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. The texture was soft and slightly tangled, a comfort in itself. “Just stay with me.”

He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Always.” he promised, his lips trailing down to your cheek, then to your lips, each kiss soothing away your discomfort. The gentle pressure of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, it all helped to distract you from the pain.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body and the gentle rhythm of his breathing. “Thanks.” you whispered, feeling a bit more at ease with him there. The pain didn’t feel as sharp, the cramps not as debilitating with his presence close by. 

“Anytime.” he simply replied. His fingers traced soft patterns on your skin, his touch both a distraction and a comfort. The way he made sure you knew he was there meant more than any words could express.

He continued to kiss you softly, his lips moving down to your neck, his hand resting on your belly, just above where the cramps were the worst. The gentle pressure seemed to help ease the tension. You felt the pain begin to ebb, replaced by a warm glow that spread from where he touched you.

Noticing your relief, Alex pressed more firmly on the spot, and the soothing warmth intensified. He kept his eyes on you, gauging your reactions, and you could see the concern in his gaze shift to satisfaction as he felt your body relax further. The air between you seemed to change, charged with a new intention. 

You put your hand over his, guiding him lower, much lower, and it was even better. His fingers moved deftly inside the waistband of your shorts, and you gasped as you felt him cup you over your panties. The soft pressure of his palm over that area was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

He went to kiss your neck again, his breath hot against your skin. “You know, I read somewhere that sex helps relieve the pain.” he murmured. You could feel his teeth grazing your skin as he ended the sentence.

“Really?” you asked, a note of skepticism in your voice, though the pleasure made it hard to maintain.

“Yes.” he said, his voice huskier now as he licked the spot behind your ear he’d learned you loved. A lot. “Or maybe I made it up to get into your pants.”

You moaned softly as he bit your earlobe, the mixture of pain and pleasure distracting you from anything else. “I should double-check that.” you murmured.

“No need,” he whispered, “I would never lie to you.”

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, and you felt a wave of warmth and pleasure spread through your body, his touch precise and knowing. His lips never left your neck, his kisses a continuous stream of heat and comfort. 

He paused, feeling the intimacy of the moment, realising he’d never been this close to anyone before. The sensation of being allowed to touch you in such a private, vulnerable moment made him feel proud, in a way, that he had your trust to let him. He looked into your eyes, his own darkened with emotion. “You wanna try?” he asked softly.

You hesitated, then asked, “Don’t you think it’s gross?”

“Nothing about you is gross.” he replied. As he spoke, he gently slipped his fingers inside, just a tiny bit, testing your reaction. The warmth and wetness he felt made his breath hitch slightly.

“I’ve never done it like this before.” you admitted, looking up at him nervously. 

“Me neither.” he confessed, a small smile playing on his lips. “But really, I wasn’t lying. It could help.”

“It’s already working.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes never left yours as he moved his fingers slightly deeper, his movements gentle and cautious. The feeling was incredibly intimate. 

After a few moments, he slowly withdrew his fingers, looking at you with a tender expression. “I’ll go get a towel to put down, that should be good, right?” You nodded, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “And you go get ready, yeah?” He gave you one last kiss on your forehead before getting up.

Alex quickly went to the bathroom to wash his hands, before letting you go in, the warmth of the moment still lingering in his mind. He found the softest towel he could and returned to the bedroom, laying it carefully on the bed. He took a moment to adjust the pillows, making sure they were perfectly arranged for you to lie down.

He smiled at you as you came back from the bathroom. He gestured towards the bed, and you settled onto the towels, feeling the softness beneath you. As he lay beside you, his hand found yours, and he squeezed it gently. “Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur. You nodded, feeling the apprehension from earlier completely melt away.

With a tender look in his eyes, Alex began to slowly and gently undress you, his fingers brushing against your skin so lightly. He kissed down your body as he did so, his lips leaving a trail of warmth. His hands were steady, but you could sense his nerves, making his touches even more endearing. As he peeled away your clothes, he marvelled at your body, the way your skin responded to his touch. 

Once you were undressed, he stood up for a moment to take off his own clothes. Not that there was much to take off. Just his pants. Nothing else. He giggled softly as he moved back over you, holding himself up on his elbows, his eyes locked onto yours. “I’m nervous.” he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he started slowly rolling his hips, his cock rubbing against you as he did so.

“I can feel that.” you said playfully, a smile tugging at your lips.

He was still soft, you could feel it, and the look in his eyes gave him away. But he persisted, the gentle friction gradually working its magic. You could feel him growing harder against you, each movement bringing him closer to being ready. His touch was patient and tender. When he was finally hard enough, he tried slipping inside you without having to guide himself, taking advantage of the sheer wetness. 

However, as he attempted to push inside, he found resistance. You were clenching, your body reacting to the nerves you hadn't realised were there. 

“Won’t you let me in?” he asked softly, moving his weight to just one of his arms so he could brush the hair away from your face with the other. 

“Sorry.” you whispered back, trying to relax, but your body remained tense.

“It’s okay.” he reassured you. He kissed down your jawline, each touch gentle and calming. His lips were coaxing you to let go of the anxiety holding you back.

You focused on his kisses, on the feel of his breath against your skin, and slowly, your body began to respond. The tightness eased just enough for him to try again. He positioned himself carefully, his patience unwavering, and with a slow, deliberate push, he finally managed to enter you.

The sensation was overwhelming for both of you. He gasped, the feeling of being inside you like this unlike anything he had ever experienced. The wetness, the heat, the intimacy of it all. His body shuddered with the intensity, and he paused, letting you both adjust to the new sensation.

“Does it feel good?” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours.

“Yes.” you replied. “Keep going.”

Everything was so incredibly wet and warm, enveloping him in a way that was both comforting and intensely arousing. It felt different from usual, more intimate, more connected. He could feel every subtle shift and movement within you, his own body responding in kind. It was as if every nerve ending was alive, transmitting the smallest sensations in vivid detail.

As he slowly began thrusting in and out, you felt him getting harder, the pleasure building with each motion. He filled you completely, every inch stretching you. It felt a bit strange at first, but the initial discomfort gave way eventually. His breathing grew heavier, matching yours, each thrust accompanied by a soft moan, a whisper of your name. 

Alex’s eyes never left yours, the connection between you intensifying with every thrust. His touch remained tender, his kisses never ceasing, as if he wanted to reassure you with every part of his being. Your bodies moved in sync, the rhythm of your breaths and heartbeats blending together. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax with each movement, pulling him closer, deeper. 

“I’m not gonna last long.” he struggled to say, his mouth hanging open from the overwhelming feeling. 

You couldn’t care less. You were almost there too, the build-up of sensations driving you closer to the edge. Without a second thought, you pulled him back down, smashing his mouth onto yours. He responded eagerly, his movements growing more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more pronounced. The rawness of it all pushed you both toward the peak. Your fingers dug into his back, your legs wrapped around him, anchoring him to you. 

It was unexpectedly quick when the rush of pleasure overtook you both. Alex gasped again, his body shuddering with the intensity of it, and you felt him pulse inside you, the warmth spreading through you. He buried his face in your neck, whispering your name like a mantra.

As his body calmed down, you could feel him drool a bit on your skin, his breathing slowly returning to a normal rhythm. The sensation was strangely endearing, a small sign of his complete surrender.

“Can I stay inside you for a bit?” he asked, rubbing his face against your neck, his voice a soft murmur.

“Yeah.” you replied, holding him close. 

You lay there for a couple of minutes, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions and the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. Alex shifted slightly, his arms wrapping around you to hold you tight and close to him, but it caused him to slip out. 

“I wish I could stay inside you forever.” he said softly.

“Don’t get emotional now, Mr. Turner.” you teased, a playful smile on your lips.

“Too late.” he chuckled, lifting his head to look into your eyes. 

“Did it feel different for you?” you asked, your fingers tracing small circles on his back.

“Mhm…” He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Felt more intimate, it was… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You understood what he meant. 

“I’ll go get some stuff to clean up.” he said, slipping out of bed. He returned with some wipes, first taking care of you, gently wiping his dripping release and everything else. His touch was tender, making sure you were comfortable before quickly cleaning himself as well and slipping into just a pair of boxers. 

As he lay down on the bed to relax for a moment, Sock came bounding into the room, jumping on top of him. “Looks like you were too late to interrupt this time, little loser.” Alex teased.

“Don’t be mean.” you said, slapping his arm lightly before getting up to head into the bathroom. 

Sock roamed over Alex’s naked chest, his tiny paws kneading the skin. He didn’t pay much attention to him until he felt a sharp bite on one of his nipples. “Ouch!” he yelled out, startled.

“Get him, Sock.” you encouraged, laughing at the sight.

Sock seemed pleased with himself, and Alex looked up at you with a mock-pained expression. “Traitor.” he muttered, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You both laughed and Alex rubbed the spot where Sock had bitten him, shaking his head in amusement. “I think he has it out for me.” he joked.

“Maybe he’s just jealous, what if he wants me all to himself?” you suggested, still giggling.

“Could be,” Alex agreed, “But I’m not giving up so easily.”

a/n: maybe I went a bit too soft...I don't know. but that first scene is one of my favourite things I've written in this whole series

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[boydepartment]

enhypen as things from 2014 tumblr

a/n: i am literally frothing at the mouth that 2014 tumblr is coming back. around 2016-2018 this aesthetic and mentality was my EVERYTHING. now in 2024 the mentality and aesthetic is still there just a lil more.... um flavorful for me 😋😋 but it’s okay! i also had to go on my LAPTOP to lay this out so please like this post... my ass worked hard on this- i also dont know if heeseung's aesthetic photo for his headcanons is messed up?? if it is i am so sorry

warnings- 2014 tumblr was a lil cray cray, but i worked my hardest to make sure none of the photos or themes would be triggering :) if you felt anything negative during reading these headcanons- tell me and i will add it to the warnings. but as far as i know and with my own experiences/disorder everything is pretty good and non triggering! :)

MASTERLIST

🕰️jungwon- specifically that one brand of music

okay let me elaborate: out of my league by the fitz and the tantrums

tongue tied by grouplove

electric love by børns

the really like happy yet sad songs??? he’s very like HES SO TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE IM SORRY???? listen to the song that is jungwon he is that song. he is def like that summer romance who you never speak to again and it’s so sad because you loved him so much but now you’re like strangers. just wait till next summer tho, he’ll make you fall in love with him all over again. it’s bittersweet

⚰️heeseung- knee socks

okay me being out of pocket for a sec

heeseung is absolutely fucking insane and drives me nuts. and so do knee socks. any socks that go above the shin drive me fucking insane because they don’t sit properly ever, no matter the size the sock or the size i am they FALL. but i own like 4-6 pairs, because they look nice and make me feel pretty when they sit properly. heeseung drives me insane but i want to be his gf ☹️☹️

he’s def the type of guy to fix your socks too when he notices they’re shifting

🎥jay- the wallpaper quotes

like the sad ones everyone had EVERYWHERE. i was on quotev during this time around 2015?? and they were EVERYWHERE. bangchans wallpaper from 2018 core

these aesthetic quotes just remind me of jay. music is everything to him so he’s the mf to reblog this being like

“this resonates with me.”

he’s also very arctic monkeys coded but do what you will with that 😋😋HE WOULD SO POST HIS OWN WRITINGS AND AESTHETIC GUITAR PHOTOS. HES LIKE THE TUMBLR HOT GUY. imagine while he’s like super popular on tumblr ur like the actual “rockstar’s gf” aesthetic. LIKE THAT ONE FUCKING PHOTO OF THE 1975 ROBBERS MUSIC VIDEO??? I THINK IT WAS THAT ONE RIGHT??? i’m attaching it rn

💋jake- the bold lip makeup + messy photos

dayum let me get out of pocket rq again

that really specific dark aesthetic where it’s in parking lots and blurry and you can make out the dark lip makeup, bleached damaged platinum blonde hair, and the makeup is messy. everything is messy

HEUWBDJBFJAVSHDBBD that is jake :) he’s def the type of guy to be like “wait let’s take a cool photo.” then kisses you to smudge your lipstick then snaps a photo with the flash so when you’re alarmed by the flash you move and it makes the photo all cool looking bc it’s blurry.

👓sunghoon- the john green obsession

i’ve read every john green book pre 2016

i hated looking for alaska it was fucking insane. however sunghoon is like the good part about the paper towns book. like the fun road trip part. that happened right? or did i imagine that? NO IT DID. sunghoon very like curl up bbg im gonna read this book to you and make little stupid comments during it. def the type to have you in his arms while he reads, you hold the book and he has his hands over yours, softly rubbing circles.

💍sunoo- the victorias secret aesthetic

this is actually me rn sorry, all my clothes come from there pretty much. if it’s not thrifted it’s from victoria’s secret. it’s not just lingerie, they have like everything there. NONETHELESS it also screams sunoo. a lot of it is very like chic in a way and it just fits him perfectly. the black and pink colors, the small pops. it just really fits him. the aesthetic is just chefs kiss. especially since i feel like he’d be obsessed with the lotions (i own the mint chocolate lotion and wear it)

def the type of bf to come home with new body sprays for both of you. probably mixing scents too. MATCHING JACKETS AS WELL

📸riki- the electra heart album

MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS. god everything abt this album screams riki.

me relistening to this album and realizing how much it did effect me😨😨😨😨 maybe i’m just projecting now but besides the point

that album is so like riki coded let me get quotes

“I think I want your, your American tan- I think you're gonna be my biggest fan”

“The pretty lies, the ugly truth”

“All I ever wanted was the world- I can't help that I need it all”

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek- But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

“You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?”

“you don’t love me- big fucking deal”

"question good and question bad."

okay i’m GONNA BE WRITING A BOOK I HAVE TO STOP. he’s def the type of bf where if he hears you listening to this album he’s like “wtf…” then finds himself humming to it. he’d be like that with all your music taste too. riki with black chipped nailpolish OKAY I WILL SHUT UP ABT HIM NOW

[daemour]

♡ Event: @pirateeznet 2nd Anniversary Event

♡ Pairing: Farmhand! Choi San x home aide! f! Reader

♡ Genre: Harvest Moon AU, slight slow burn, fluff, slight angst, T for Teen

♡ Warnings: Cursing, some sexual innuendos at the end, that's it

♡ Summary: Working as a home aide on a farm brings you some new trials...namely a certain attractive farmhand named San.

♡ Word Count: 9277 (im SORRY)

♡ Genre: Regular Life ; Prompt: Coworkers

This was supposed to be...a lot longer. LAMFIJGDFJKGHKJSHDF x) With both Hwa and Joong as other love interests...but I gotta learn how to restrain myself LOL. But I do have more planned with YN and San (and a little more spicy too hehe) so if you'd like to read that let me know!

it's a honker of a fic, so i really do hope you enjoy despite the plot holes LMAO

Thank you to @okiedokrie for beta'ing,,,the first draft lmaooo surprisee...its totally different lol

“Are you serious?” you mutter, standing knee-high in a mud puddle. When you decided to move out of the city and stay with an elderly man as a home nurse on his farm temporarily, you expected to get dirty. But not like this, and not that soon. The wagon was only able to take you so far before you had to walk the rest of the way since it was technically private property or whatever the guy said. You didn’t quite remember his reasoning, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it hadn’t started pouring about five minutes after you started walking. Now you’re cold and wet, and mud is everywhere.

With a frustrated groan, you try and take another step, wincing at the feeling of the mud squelching in your shoes and soaking your socks through. You’re having regrets, but you’re sure the ailing older man is having worse issues than wet socks and shoes and you power through. After a long and gruelling walk, you finally see the cream building and connected barn and you sigh in relief.

“Oh, man, you look a mess,” a voice is heard from behind you and you shriek, dropping down to the ground and clutching at your heart. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. YN, right?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. This is Aria farm?” You punctuate it with a sniff as you try to regain your dignity.

The man laughs, much more high-pitched than you expected. “Yup. I’m the farmhand, San.” He holds out his hand. “Need a hand up?”

With a shaky smile, you nod, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. His grip is strong, warm, and calloused, and you shoo away any unwanted thoughts. “Got caught in the rain?” San smiles apologetically like he was the one who brought the showers down upon you.

“Yeah, I sure did.” You return the smile with a weak one of your own. “Got dumped at the end of the road by the wagon, and not five minutes later I got poured on.”

San winces. “Oh, well, sorry that had to be your first welcome here. I’ll give that guy a talk later—he means no harm, just likes to play pranks.”

You grunt, not caring all that much about the villagers in the town, pranks or not. You have no doubt that the wagoneer meant no harm, nor that the villagers aren’t nice, but most of your days will be spent cooped up with the old farmer in his house. Plus, you decided to move away from the city to get away from people and let your introversion take over.

It takes a moment for you to realise he’s expecting you to keep up a conversation. “How is Mr Takeru doing?”

San shrugs, his eyes continuously flickering back to you. “He’s doing fairly well, all things considered. The fall left him physically incapable of a lot, but his energy hasn’t dwindled at all.” There’s a fondness in his voice. “He’s happy to hear you’ll be coming. He loves having people around and his kids barely visit. To no fault of their own, of course. They’re all on different islands, farming as well and it’s hard to get away.”

You hum. You’ve heard of their family situation, how Takeru’s kids all followed in his footsteps to become farmers, and that their children also went on to become farmers. It’s interesting, and you sometimes wonder if it’s something they all wanted. “It’ll be nice for him to have someone around,” you tell an attentive San. “It would’ve been great for him if some of his family could see him, but I’m sure he’s excited anyway.”

As you talk to San, you don’t realise how quickly the two of you walk until you are already at the house’s porch. San opens the door, stepping in, but you hesitate for just a moment. You almost turn tail if it wasn’t for the warm smile San offers.

“Don’t worry, I promise Mr Takeru is super nice. And I’ll always be happy to keep you company.” His eyes crinkle as his smile widens even further, and you can’t help but feel your face warm at how sweet he is.

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then.”

-

“Are you going to the flower festival tomorrow?” San catches you right when you go out to grab the mail.

You tilt your head as you flip through the many letters. Nothing of too much importance, just a couple of notices from the local stores. You see a letter from one of Mr Takeru’s kids and you smile at the sight of it before realising you hadn’t responded to San. “The what?”

“Flower festival,” San repeats himself, a smile growing on his face. It always seems to be there when you see the farmhand. “It’s a holiday where couples enjoy the cherry blossoms together and all.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “San, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not quite part of the couples demographic.” The farmhand’s eyes sparkle at your joke, but his gaze does not waver.

“You could go with me,” he suggests and you choke on the spot. “I’m being serious! It’s a really nice time and it’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You sigh, glancing behind you. “We’ll see. I might be busy tomorrow.”

San still smiles triumphantly at your answer. “If you do decide to come, I’ll meet you at the church grounds at seven.” And before you can even respond, he winks and walks away, making sure to flex his back muscles. If you can’t rip your eyes away, that's your own problem.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to six, you get more and more antsy. You’re still debating whether to go. One part of you wants to go so he won’t wait in vain, but the other part of you wants to avoid all sorts of contact with people. Every time you go and buy groceries for Mr Takeru, the villagers all stop to stare at you. And you know it’s partly your fault for never trying to get to know them, but you really would rather stay a hermit.

But San, he was different. Although you’ve only been here for a few weeks, San seems to have taken an interest in you. He’s always finding an excuse to talk to you, be it lunch break or asking to pass a message to Mr Takeru. You’re not quite sure what his motive is, but you’re not complaining. He’s good-looking, kind, and makes an effort to get to know you. Perhaps you should return the kindness.

When the clock strikes half past six, you know it’s the last moment before you can make your decision. After a moment’s hesitation, you call up the stairs “Mr Takeru, I’ll be going out! Do you have everything you need?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Mmh, I’ve got my cane so I’m all good. Going to the festival, I see?”

“Bye, Mr Takeru” You roll your eyes good-naturedly even if he can’t see it, grabbing your bag and practically launching yourself out the door. If you run, you’ll make it just in time.

You’re sure you look crazy, running down the streets while attempting to pull your hair away from your face to no avail, but time is of the essence. You manage to smile at the villagers who wave at you, but you’re panting hard and you think your legs might fall off as you take the church steps three at a time.

As you catch your breath, you can see San out of the corner of your eye approaching with the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face. “You came!”

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a hack from the lack of air in your lungs. San laughs, reaching over to pat you on the back as you take a moment to catch your breath. “My gosh, I am not cut out for running,” you gasp, finally straightening up and brushing your hair out of your face.

San’s hands slow as he shifts them lower to rest at the small of your back. “Well, I’m glad you made it anyway. Come sit with me and my friends. They’ll be happy to see you came.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, San sweeps you away towards the back corner of the courtyard. The two people sitting on a blanket you recognise—the farmer you buy your groceries from and the bartender who walks past Mr Takeru’s farm on the way to work in the afternoon, and neither of their names you ever got.

“Guys, this is YN,” San introduces you and you give a little wave as they chorus your name with ‘hi’s. “This is Wooyoung, and that’s Yunho.” He points to the bartender and the farmer respectively.

“Good to finally get your name,” Yunho smiles at you, a bright smile lighting up his face. “You’ve been shopping with me for what, two weeks now?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, just about.” You silently beg for the topic to change because San is sensitive about how you buy groceries elsewhere since a storm destroyed most of the farm’s crops. “What does one do at the flower festival?”

Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance between each other, their eyes soft. “Generally couples sit together and watch the flowers fall and talk about each other. At the end, you pick up a blossom and blow it after making a wish,” Yunho explains, the corner of his lips pulling up as Wooyoung leans into his body. “I’m here with Wooyoung.”

He immediately realises this is not the best thing to say as your face heats up and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. “You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to go, of course!” San immediately rectifies, his hands shooting out to smack Yunho in the shoulder. “I always go with friends.”

A smile pulls at your lips even though you’re still a little awkward at the revelation. “Well, thank you for inviting me anyway,” you bow slightly. “It’s nice to get a little scenery difference.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you away from the farm since you arrived, barring your visits to Marimba and Horn Ranches.” You duck your head shyly and San swoops to your rescue.

“Not that you’re any better, Wooyoung. All you do is work and go home to sleep,” San teases. “Except when Yunho makes you go outside, of course.”

Both Wooyoung and Yunho immediately blush red and you laugh at the sight. “You two are cute together though,” you compliment. “Hopefully one day I can have a relationship like yours.” You miss the soft gaze sent your way by San, but neither Wooyoung nor Yunho do and they exchange a look before smiling back at you.

“I’m sure you will one day.”

-

It’s pouring buckets out there and even San has taken the day off. There’s nothing to do on the farm other than feed the animals, and the day before San had put extra food in their buckets for that occasion exactly. Mr Takeru is fast asleep and all you’re doing is sitting in the living room and trying to focus on reading. But it’s not coming to you.

With a sigh, you put your book back down and move to stand near the window, staring at the bleary landscape. That’s when you see it. A little glimmer of light right by the bending tomato plants. You narrow your eyes, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then it happens again. Now you’re sure something is out there, and against your better judgement, you’re going to find out what it is.

With another glance towards Mr Takeru, who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, you pull on a raincoat and open the front door. The wind almost slams it shut but you catch it just in time, slipping out of the house and closing it gently instead.

The wind is practically bullying you as you make your way slowly over to the garden. When you finally reach the plants, you squint but can’t seem to find anything, but you swear you saw something. Your eyes dart around to see if you can find it again, and another sparkle catches your eye further down the road.

You cast a glance back at the house, inner debate raging in you. But at heart, you’re forever a toddler and you go chase after the pretty lights.

The farther you go, the more you’re starting to regret your choices. But you’re too far to find your way back—although you’ve been here for almost a month now, you’re not all that well-versed in where things are around this island. Yet another point into why you should’ve just stayed at the farm.

With a groan, you take another step closer, making your way through a tunnel of trees. The rain only seems to get heavier but you can still see the faint sparkling but not much around it and you step closer.

Suddenly, the rain melts away to reveal a little grove and a giant tree standing tall and proud. The only thing that tells you were just in the rain is the fact that you’re soaking wet. You blink, step back, and the rain falls around you again. Another step forward, and the sun is shining again.

You rub your eyes, sure you must be going crazy. But the sunny area is still in front of your eyes. As much as your brain is screaming at you to turn back and make your way home, your curiosity gets the better of you. You take a few steps closer, marvelling at the old spring on either side of the stone pathway you’re on.

You’ve heard of the stories of the fae and magic surrounding this island, mostly from Mr Takeru himself, but you always chalked it up to him being old, as much as you thought it would be nice for it to be real. And here you are, standing in the middle of what can only be called magic surrounding you.

The area looks almost unoccupied, with more of the sparkles that drew you out of the house in the first place flitting around. You take a couple of steps closer when someone steps out from behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” You don’t recognise the figure standing in front of you, with perfectly coiffed hair and a frown upon his pouting lips.

You blink at him. “Uh, I was taking a walk and ended up here. What is this place?”

The blonde man blinks at you. “You don’t know? It’s the Goddess Spring, home of the tree that powers our island. Though…I guess you are new here.”

You frown, cocking your head. “Sorry if I seem rude, but I don’t think I’ve met you. Who are you?”

The stranger’s piercing blue eyes widen and he laughs, waving his hands. “Oh my, I can’t believe I forgot my manners. I’m Park Seonghwa, son of the mayor of this little island. My father speaks highly of you and how well you care for Mr Takeru.”

His hand is firm and warm although his palms are softer than San’s. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him warmly. “Your father speaks proudly of you as well.”

You can’t believe you haven’t made the connection. Seonghwa isn’t the spitting image of his father per se, but they look similar enough to each other, especially in their eyes. Mayor Gil and Seonghwa both have the same stare.

The young man smiles again, shaking his head. “My father can be passionate. Now that he’s older, he tells me he has less grievances against the world. But I am curious—what are you doing here? It’s still pouring out there.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I was just following some…uh…sparkles.”

“Sparkles? Nothing else?” Seonghwa’s facial expression shifts to one of curiosity. Your eyebrows furrow at his intensity and his features soften as he chuckles. “Ah, I don’t mean to alarm you. This island has a rich history behind this little grove. Are you busy?”

You shrug, glancing behind you. “No, not really. I’m not really in the mood to walk all the way back to the farm in the rain. I’m a big history fan anyway.”

Seonghwa shrugs, gesturing to the stone bench up further on the stone pathway. “Come and sit then. The story starts with this tree.”

To be honest, you don’t understand much of what Seonghwa explains. Something about bells and trees powering the island, and how only the line of mayors and Mr Takeru’s family can see the magic. But Seonghwa seems so passionate about it, and you have no reason to disbelieve it, not when you’ve witnessed the grove itself, so you just smile and nod and do your best to comprehend.

Seonghwa is finishing up his story of how Mr Takeru single-handedly revived the island when he takes a glance at his watch and gasps. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure the rain has stopped, you should make your way back to the farm before it gets dark.”

Your brows furrow, glancing up to see the sun getting close to the west. “Oh, crap,” you gasp, “I need to start dinner. Do…do you happen to know the way back to the farm? I didn’t quite see how I got here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Yes, you can just take a left out here and follow the path down the mountain. It should lead you to the pond right by Aria Farm. I’ll see you around town, then.”

You nod, promising him to try and find time to visit him in town before booking your way out of the grove. He was right, the rain had slowed to a drizzle that hardly bothered you. You’re making your way down the mountain, rushing so much you can hardly enjoy the view you missed on your way up.

As soon as the blue roof of the farmhouse comes into vision, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiar sight. Your little adventure was fun but now it’s time to go back. As you unlock the door and swing it open, your vision is immediately blocked by a firm, warm chest and strong arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “YN, where were you?”

San’s worried voice reaches your ears and your initial shock wears off as you tilt your head back to look at him. “I went on a walk and found some grove near the mountains,” you explain honestly, and San’s eyebrows raise into his bangs.

“A walk? YN, are you insane? I came around to make sure you both were okay and Mr Takeru told me he didn’t know where you had gone. It was a crazy storm out there too. You have to be careful, YN. I– you could’ve gotten hurt.”

San’s arms tighten around your shoulders and your face heats up as you pat his back awkwardly. “Well, I agree it was pretty stupid of me, but I’m fine and here! I won’t do it again, I promise,” you try and cheer him up while also doing your best to wriggle out of his grip. It’s embarrassing for you to be so close, you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your ears. He’s too hot for you to be this close to and you need some space before you combust.

You finally manage to untangle yourself, offering a smile to ease the distance between the two. “How long were you waiting for me, anyway?”

San sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “Maybe just about three hours? I think I was about ten minutes away from going out to look for you myself. I mean, the rain only stopped an hour ago, it’s understandable I was worried.”

He’s trying to convince himself more so than you, but you can’t really blame him. You would’ve been the same way in his shoes. You try not to think about what would happen if he had suddenly disappeared in the rain. “No, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you shake your head, glancing away in guilt. “I just thought something was out there and went on a wild goose chase. Turns out it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But in the grove I went to, I finally met the mayor’s son.”

San’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “Seonghwa? He’s nice, I’m glad you’ve met him.” He finally smiles back, softly, but shakes his head as if remembering where he is. “Er, I suppose I should let you go have dinner now. You must be hungry.”

He slips out of the door before you can even respond, the thought of inviting him for dinner only popping into your head as he’s already halfway down to the river, his form glowing gold in the sunset. You poke your head out to call for him, but your nerves get the better of you and you just watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You should go for it.” A hoarse voice interrupts your swirling thoughts and you turn back to see Mr Takeru leaning on his cane and smiling kindly at you. “You’re young, and pretty. Anyone can see clear as day that San likes you. You know, he was quite worried when you were out.”

You swear there is steam radiating off of your face. “Ah, Mr Takeru, don’t get my hopes up,” you laugh. “There’s no way San sees me as much more than a friend. Now, let’s get dinner started, no?”

Mr Takeru just sighs, a melancholy smile on his face. “You should run right after him before it’s too late, you know. But yes, let’s have dinner YN.”

-

You stand in front of the door of the mayor’s house, debating whether to walk in or not. When you received an invitation for lunch from Seonghwa earlier this morning, he had assured you that you could walk right in without knocking, but you felt a little too awkward to do that.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp voice startles you and you jump, looking over your shoulder guiltily. A silver-haired man with sharp eyes and thick robes gazes at you with an uninterested expression on his face.

“Ah– Seonghwa invited me for lunch here,” you explain, glancing back at the door.

Before you can say anything, the strange, eccentric man brushes past you, the many bracelets and necklaces he has on jingling. “Well, then. He’s up to one of his schemes to get me to socialise again. He invited me for lunch too. Come on in.”

He swings the door open, stepping inside the house and you stare at him with wide eyes before scurrying after him. The outside of the house is filled with flowers lining the stepping stones, but the inside of the house is more mature in decor, with dark oak tables and brown wallpaper. The stranger glances at you, having noticed your eyes wandering the decor and he laughs shortly. “Quite the juxtaposition of interior and exterior, no? Mayor Gil’s late mother had designed the inside and so the mayor hasn’t had the heart to change it.”

You’re about to respond when one of the doors to your right slams open, revealing Seonghwa standing there with messy hair and a sullen look on his face. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cancel lunch. My father has fallen ill with cow fever. YN, I’m so sorry to have to turn you away but I don’t want you to catch it, or Mr Takeru for that matter.” He heaves a sigh, then turns to the stranger. “Hongjoong, could you do me a favour and bring me some medicine?”

The man—Hongjoong—nods sharply and spins on his heel, striding out the door without a moment’s hesitation. You falter just a moment, shooting Seonghwa a quick smile and ‘hope your father feels better soon’ before following Hongjoong’s steps out the door.

On your way home, you can’t help but wonder…what on earth is cow fever? You’ve never heard of such a thing. You’re too lost in thought you almost don’t see San waving at you from afar. “Ah, hey San!” you greet him with a quick wave and a smile. “Did you have lunch yet?”

A shrug is your answer and you laugh at San’s nonchalance. “Nah, I was just about to head out for some, though. How was your lunch?”

You shake your head. “It had to be cancelled. Mayor Gil came down with the cow fever, so we decided to reschedule.”

A pout forms on San’s face. “Well, I hope he gets better. Cow fever is no joke. But hey, since you didn’t have lunch, would you like to join me?”

Although it would mean you’d have to walk back to town, you can’t say ‘no’ to the smile on San’s face. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” you grin. “Inn? Do you want to get sandwiches and eat on the dock?”

The smile on San’s face widens. “It’s almost like you’re reading my mind. Let’s eat on the dock.”

Without another word, he hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the barn. “Ah– San, the town is the other way, you know.”

San laughs again, loud and bright. “Yeah, I know. We’ll take Emma.”

It takes a moment to register. “The cow? San, are you crazy?” you gasp, but there’s still a giggle present in your tone. “First, we have a horse. Second, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less a cow!”

“That doesn’t matter,” San grins impossibly wider, his dimples deep. “Emma’s sweet, she’s an easier ride than Princess. Plus, I want Princess to have some more bonding time with her foal. Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

You groan good-naturedly but can’t keep the smile off your face as the two of you approach the well-mannered cow. “Fine,” you agree. “How do I get on?”

Instead of answering your question like a normal human being, San places his hands on your waist. For a moment, you’re lost in his firm grip, but it doesn’t last long as he lifts you and places you on Emma’s back, a shriek emitting from your mouth. “San!” you laugh, looking down to see San’s eyes crinkling as he chuckles and pats your thigh. “Warn me next time!”

“So there’ll be a next time?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” you scold lightly, turning away so he won’t see your flushing cheeks. “Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You can hear San laugh to himself one more time before hopping up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately, your mind is taken back to that rainy day almost a month ago when he hugged you and your cheeks burn even more. “Hold on tight,” San hums, leaning forward till his lips are right by your ear.

And once again, he doesn’t give you time to mentally prepare before Emma runs down the path towards the town. You’re terrified, hands gripping so tightly on San’s that you’re sure your nails will leave indents. But somehow, you’re enjoying yourself taking a wild ride on a cow of all things. Maybe it helps that San’s body is pressed against yours and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You’re practically in a daze when you reach the town, San lifting you off Emma much more gently than when he put you on her. “You good?” he asks, and you snort, shaking your head fondly.

“God, I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you made me do that. But yes, I’m good. More than good, even. That was fun.” You chuckle mostly to yourself, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

It’s your turn to grab San’s warm hand and pull him in the direction of the inn, the little bell tinkling as you step inside. Mai smiles at the two of you, waving you both over to her station. “Hello, you two. Looking for some lunch this fine morning?”

“Yep,” San leans on the counter with his elbow, ignoring the glare the head chef, Chihaya, sends him. Mai hides her smile extremely badly. “Could I get the tuna sandwich? And whatever YN’s getting.”

Your head snaps towards him. “Oh, no, no, San, don’t worry about it. I can pay for my own,” you decline as quickly as you can, but he raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s my treat, YN. Don’t fight me on this, I’ll win. I invited you out, so it’s only right I pay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “But–”

“No buts, okay? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of paying for the both of us. Let me do this, YN. Just order, okay?” San holds up a hand, and you know he’s won.

With a sigh, you concede. “Fine. But next time, I’ll pay, and no buts.” San raises his hands in defeat. Satisfied, you turn back to Mai. “Could I get an egg sandwich?”

Mai chuckles, writing down your order in her little notebook. “It’s cute to see you two together. Poor San has been lonely for a long time.”

“We’re not dating,” you quickly correct her, face heating up in embarrassment.

“And I’m not lonely!” San interjects, pout on his face, and his cuteness in that moment makes you forget how awkward you were about Mai’s statement.

“Okay,” Mai chirps, clearly disbelieving the two of you, but before you can refute any longer, Chihaya stalks over, handing the two of you nicely wrapped sandwiches.

“Mai, stop bothering them. You two, go eat. See you later,” he shuts down the conversation, waving the two of you away.

Both San and you exchange a look before quickly leaving the inn, Mai’s sweet giggles trailing behind the two of you until the door shuts behind you. “Well then. Dock?”

You snort, nodding. “Dock.”

You skip your way through town to the dock, empty aside from the local fisherman about to head inside for his own lunch break. The wind isn’t too harsh today, something you appreciate so that the sea’s waves don’t get close to your feet. Neither you nor San feel the need to talk as you work through your lunches, the food delicious enough to keep your mouths occupied.

You finish your sandwich much earlier than San, leaning back on your arms as you sneak a peek at his side profile while he continues to eat, unaware. Something about his focused gaze on his sandwich seems to draw your gaze. As you wait, you can’t help but think back to Mai’s words, unable to keep your mind from daydreaming about Choi San.

Ever since that fateful day in the rain, the hug he had given you keeps popping up in your mind at the most inopportune times…like right now. You can already feel heat rising to your face once again and you quickly focus your eyes on the horizon to do your best to rid yourself of such thoughts.

You can’t afford to like San, not like that. Not when you have no idea what you’re going to do after this job, or even where you’ll go. This little island feels more like home than the big city did, but you don’t know where your life could fit in here. Not when it feels like everyone already has their place in the town.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink yourself back to reality, where San has finished his sandwich and is looking at you with such a fond look in his eyes. “You look lost in your head.”

You shrug, bringing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know…” you murmur, a melancholy smile playing on your lips. “Just the future, I guess. What I’ll do later.”

San hums, his hand coming to rest close to your own, and you push back thoughts of grasping his worn, warm palm. “I get it. Before I started working for Mr Takeru, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do either. I bounced from ranch to ranch, even started over at Marimba Farm for a time until Mr Takeru offered me a job.”

“Is that where you met Yunho?”

At your question, San chuckles. “Yeah. He hired me at Marimba when it was first starting out, then recommended me to Mr Takeru after he was able to manage it with the help of Wooyoung. Yunho is one of my oldest friends here.”

“It must be nice to have that close of a friend,” you state, more to yourself than anything, but San hears you anyway, his brows furrowing with light concern. “Say…who’s Hongjoong? I met him briefly at Seonghwa’s before I had to go home. I’ve never seen him around before.”

San hums, tilting his head so he can look into your eyes more clearly. You fight to keep the blush of your cheeks. “Hongjoong runs the clinic, and does fortune telling on the side. He’s descended from a long line of wizards, and his paternal family has run the clinic for a very long time. Why?”

You shrug. “I heard something about him getting medicine for Mayor Gil. Thought it might be interesting to talk to him about the island’s medical practices. Since I’m a nurse and all.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little curious too. He dresses nothing like the other islanders.”

San chuckles alongside you. “His robes are the traditional wear for the wizards of this island. He does quite enjoy talking about the history behind them, so you should ask him about it some time. Any other trivia I can answer for you?”

His tone is light, teasing, and you snort and shove at his shoulder. “Shut up, can’t a girl be curious? I get it, you don’t like me.”

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from true.” San shakes his head, and you freeze, aware of what he’s implying.

“San–” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m–”

“You don’t have to say anything,” San laughs, leaning in to tap his forehead against yours. “Not right now, at least. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now come on, let’s get back to the farm.”

Before you can blink, he’s already on his feet and holding out a hand to help you stand. After a moment's hesitation, you reach out as well, placing your hand in his. As he pulls you up, he leans forward to press his lips against the side of your head and you duck your head, heat rushing to your face.

The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Instead of riding Emma back, San lets her amble along the path on her own. You walk side by side, fingertips not quite brushing, stealing glances at each other and soft smiles. Maybe it's because he finally put words to what the two of you have, but you can’t help but wonder exactly why both of you are suddenly so open with how much you care for each other.

As he walks you to the front door of the farmhouse, he clears his throat, obviously wanting to say something. You turn to him expectantly, taking note of the nervousness in his eyes. “YN…” he mumbles, a far cry from the confident man he was on the dock. “No matter how you end up feeling, please don’t leave the island because of it. Everyone here likes you, even though you don’t really know them well. And Mr Takeru is terribly fond of you. Don’t let me influence your life too much, okay?”

You sigh, body visibly relaxing. “Of course not, San. I’ve grown to love it here. I don’t think even you can keep me away.”

San chuckles at your feeble attempt at a joke, out of pity, you think. “Okay, okay. Have a good day, YN.”

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself subconsciously. “Miss YN, is that you?” Mr Takeru calls out, and you shake your head, willing your brain to clear up before quickly making your way to your employer.

“I’m here, Mr Takeru!”

-

You awkwardly stand at the bar, waiting for Wooyoung to finish up with a customer. The bar is the last place you would usually be, but you’re at a loss. San’s words have been replaying in your head since that fateful day on the dock, and you haven't spoken to him since. Not that he’s bothered by it. True to his word, San had been giving you space, only exchanging soft, sweet, ‘good morning’s and gentle smiles.

As each day passed, you knew what your answer would be, but then a letter arrived today from your agency back home. A reminder your contract was almost up. You knew you had to make a decision, fast.

“All right, what’s going on in your head, missy?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks you out of your swirling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to be sick, and I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor’s.”

You open your mouth, close it again, and then reopen. “Wooyoung, do you know if the clinic has any job openings?”

Wooyoung furrows his brow, frowning. “Well, you’ve picked the worst person to ask this question to. I’ve never gone to the clinic before, and Hongjoong never comes in here. But they might. Hongjoong’s grandfather recently retired, so as Mr Van takes his role, there might be a job opening soon. I think Mao was thinking about volunteering there, though. You’d have to talk to Hongjoong about it. Why?”

You hesitate, eyes moving from side to side. No one is close enough to hear you over the music. “Did San talk to you at all in the past week?”

Understanding dawns in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Ah. He told us what happened, but let me hear what you think of it. All our regulars are here already so I won't have to make any more drinks for a while.”

A sigh makes its way out of your throat. “My contract with Mr Takeru is ending soon. The easy answer is to renew, but what about after that? I don’t know where I could work, other than the hospital, and if Mao wants to work there, I don’t want to take that opportunity away from him.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I said he would volunteer, not work. He’s the fisherman’s son, the sea is in his blood. But even if you don’t work at the clinic, San would probably be happy to support you until you find something.”

You shake your head tiredly. “But I don’t want him to. He already works so hard, and I don’t want to make him feel obligated to help me, not when I’m capable of supporting myself and it’s just me overthinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Wooyoung dissolves into laughter. “YN, he would be helping you because he wants to. Hell, any of us would be willing to help you. Yunho could use someone to help him on his own farm, I’m sure Seonghwa would like to have a secretary, hell, I could use you as a server. You’re worrying too much about it. Things will work out if you want them to.”

You wince. “I know, I know. I just worry, you know.”

“Well, don’t,” Wooyoung teases. “Just talk to San. He’ll understand.”

“As always, your advice is impeccable,” you smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Wooyoung winks, sliding a glass over. “Have a drink before you go, okay? I’m not getting paid to gossip, you know.”

You squint at him. “Don’t you own this bar?” All Wooyoung does is smile knowingly and nod towards the cup of…something. You take a tentative sip, and then another, and then it hits. The sweet but tangy flavour with a hint of bitterness from the alcohol. “Oh, this is good! What is it?”

“Raspberry cocktail,” he answers, way too proud of his creation. “I perfected the recipe today, as well as a few others. You should try those ones too.”

You laugh, downing the rest of your drink. “Sure, sure, go ahead. I’m almost never here anyway.”

Wooyoung practically vibrates in excitement, moving around the kitchen in a dash to prepare your next drink. You’re on your third drink and too busy laughing at Wooyoung’s antics to notice the presence behind you. When Wooyoung slides you your next drink, you ask, “Which one is this?”

“This one is your last drink,” a firm voice speaks up and you snap your head around, startled, to come face to face with San. “You still have work tomorrow, YN, you can't get too drunk.”

“Hey, Sanah,” you beam up at him, unbothered by his close proximity. You blame it on the alcohol. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “All good, I hope. Come on, finish your drink and let’s get you home.”

Without much further prompting, you down the rest of your drink and wave at Wooyoung, who is watching the two of you with an amused expression plastered on his face. “Bye, now,” he sing-songs, “get home safe.”

San rolls his eyes good naturedly, nodding at Wooyoung and sliding some money over to pay for your few drinks. “Have a good night, Youngah.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you stand and pulling you out of the inn. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You hum, turning your head to press your face into his shoulder. “I dunno,” you mumble into him, breathing in the smell of his soap. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I end up out of a job. You’re too perfect, I can’t drag you down.” You don’t mean to say all this, but the alcohol is still coursing through your system and the courage still sits in your stomach.

San intakes a sharp breath. “What do you mean by that?”

You shrug. “You have a job, a life here. I’m here temporarily. When my contract ends next month, what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to go back to the city and leave you here, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do here.”

San sighs, letting his head sit atop yours, his cheek pressed against your hair. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I wouldn’t mind if you went back to the city if you visited. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me until you get back on your feet if you decide to end your contract. Hell, I’m sure Mr Takeru would be happy to employ you on his own dime, or someone else in town would take you on. But I’m glad you came to me, okay? I want to help you.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, and you curse yourself for drinking so much that it makes you too emotional for your liking. “Okay,” you concede with a soft voice. “Thank you, San.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course, YN,” he smiles, and although you can’t see it, you hear it in his voice. “Now let’s talk later, okay? You need to go to bed.”

“Later sounds good,” you sigh, letting your body weight lean even more against San’s broad shoulders. “See you later.”

“Not right now,” San chuckles. “We’re almost home, come on. As much as it’s safe on the island, it’s chilly tonight, and I think you’d probably prefer sleeping in a bed.”

“Hmm, bed,” you repeat, yawning. “I like the idea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The rest of the night is mostly calm, save for San convincing you to go to the bathroom to change, and not undressing in front of him. As he helps you brush your hair as you sit on your bed, you can’t help but to reach up and put your hands on his waist.

“You know, I really like you,” you mumble. The alcohol has almost faded, but the tiredness has hit and you’re just as loopy as if you were still drunk. “I hope you know that.”

San chuckles, his hands slowing to a stop in your hair. “I do, YN. I do.” He leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but not until you grab his wrist. “Wait! What about here?” you pout, pointing to your lips, and San arches an eyebrow, a smile toying at the corners of his lips and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you ask me, okay? Good night, YN.” And with that, he leaves you to sleep, a smile plastered onto your face as you dream of his touch.

When you reawaken, you feel fully rested, yawning as you slip out of bed quickly and easily. A quick glance at your clock tells you it’s almost noon and you curse yourself for drinking so heavily. You’re never letting Wooyoung talk you into such a thing again.

As you make your way out of your room, you find Mr Takeru sitting on the couch. “Miss YN, come sit with me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

You pause, heart freezing. “Ah– sure, Mr Takeru. Nothing bad, I hope.”

The older man chuckles, waving his hand. “Of course not. This is something both Wooyoung and San have come to me about.”

You blink. “Ah.” You’re going to kill Wooyoung, and think about killing San (You’re too attached to him to follow though).

Mr Takeru laughs again. “I said it wasn’t bad, child, don’t look like you’re about to faint, please. San had expressed his affection for you to me, and Wooyoung has talked about how, in his words, ‘both of them are dumb as rocks and won’t date yet’. I’m quite aware that your contract with me is ending soon.” He pauses to take in a breath. “I would like to offer you a job with me off contract. That means you won’t be with your agency anymore.”

You blink at him. “I…I’m sorry, it’s a lovely offer, and I’m quite inclined to take it, but can I ask why? I mean, it would be cheaper for you to hire from the agency, and I’m sure I could figure something else out.”

“Miss YN, I’m sure you’re well aware I am not in much need of money. San runs the farm beautifully, and even though he is paid generously, the earnings far exceed what I need. And, as I have talked to Mayor Gil, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the clinic is happy to contract you so that in the case that I no longer require your services, you may work with them.”

You blink at him, your lower lip quivering. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, and Mr Takeru waits patiently. “The offer is so generous, and I would be a fool to decline it. I really do appreciate it, Mr Takeru.”

Your boss smiles. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Think of it as a favour to San as well. He’s worked for me for so long, he’s like one of my own grandchildren.” He pauses, letting out a yawn. “Now, go find him and tell him the good news, okay? I’d like to take a long nap.”

With a moment to compose yourself, you stand from the couch. “Thank you again, Mr Takeru,” you repeat sincerely. “I’ll prep lunch and put it in the fridge for when you wake up, okay?”

He waves you away, already getting ready to lay down on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Mayor Gil is coming around to have lunch with me, and he’ll bring me something from the inn.” With another yawn, you know your conversation is over, and you spin on your heel and race out of the house, only one thing on your mind.

“San, are you in here?” you call out as you reach the ajar barn doors. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right down, just filling up the dispenser.” You can hear San’s voice from the loft and you look up, squinting through the sunrays filtering through the holes in the roof. The carpenters have been working on fixing that before the next rain.

Your gaze is drawn away by San climbing down the ladder, an extra bale of hay perched on his shoulders. As he turns around and you catch a glimpse of his face, your breath catches in your throat.

There wasn't ever a time where you thought sweat and grime on a person could be attractive…at least until right at this very moment. Sweat is glistening on his face, dripping off his cheekbones and chin, and all you can think about is swiping your tongue over his lips to taste it. The sight of it only serves to remind you of your drunken request to San, and his one condition that you ask him about it the next day.

“YN? Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Can I get my kiss now?”

That was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it’s too late to rectify it, so you’re left looking up at a dumbfounded San. The silence goes on for just a tad too long and you’re too embarrassed to face him now, so you turn on your heel and start to exit the barn, hopefully to drown your sorrows and yourself in the hot spring.

Before you can even step foot onto the threshold, however, San grabs your arm and gently tugs you into his warm chest. “Now wait just a moment,” he hums, chest vibrating against your back. His smell fills your mind and you tilt your gaze up to see him looking right back at you with such warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t give you your kiss yet.”

“Oh–” is all you manage to squeak out before San’s lips are on yours and you immediately melt into the kiss. His arm pulls you even closer against his body, his lips soft and inviting. “San–”

He doesn’t give you a moment to speak, his mouth capturing every sound escaping past your lips. You can feel every breath against your lips, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. Slowly, you part your lips for him and he wastes no time to map out your mouth, taking the air out of your lungs at how desperately he kisses.

As you fall deeper into his embrace, your arms come to loop around his waist, resting by his hips as your hands grip onto his shirt. His own hands roam up and down your sides, gripping at your waist and keeping you pulled against him. One of them finds its way to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that rivals the roughness of his mouth.

You could stay here like this for hours, but your lungs disagree, and after they scream at you for some air, you finally pull away, gasping softly as you lean your forehead against San’s. “San,” you call his name again, although this time your words aren’t interrupted by his lips but your lack of air. You take in one more breath, San waiting patiently as he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky yourself. “San, I like you. And I’m sure I’m just stating the obvious, but again, I do. I want to stay here with you, and just this morning Mr Takeru has offered me a personal contract with him. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

San laughs, his hand on your waist moving up to stroke your cheek. “I know, YN. I asked Mr Takeru to make you the offer. Or, to be more precise, I implied that he should make you the offer, and I did that because Wooyoung implied to me to do that.” He tilts his head to press a short and sweet kiss to your lips again, chuckling to himself at how you follow his lips when he pulls back.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, nodding as you lean up on your tiptoes to try and steal another kiss. “Nothing will ever be kept secret with his big mouth. Can we go back to kissing now? It’s easier.”

You can practically see the eagerness shine to San’s eyes. Instead of an answer, he tilts his head down to meet your waiting lips. This time, though, your makeout session is sadly cut short.

“So you two are finally together?”

You’re not too embarrassed to admit you shrieked, jumping out of your skin and burying your face in San’s chest. You can hear both San and Seonghwa chuckle, San’s arm tightening around your body. “Thanks to you, Seonghwa,” San hums. “We both really appreciate your role in this.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. And as surly as Hongjoong can be, he’s happy to have someone else on board. But I’ll let you two get back to…talking. I was just passing through to have lunch with the jeweller. Have a good day, you two.” With a wave that you see out of the corner of your eye, Seonghwa leaves.

“I’m never going back to the town hall again,” you mumble against San’s shirt. “I can’t face Seonghwa again.”

San rubs your back with a comforting hand, although you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I’m sure he understands, YN. Plus, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t walk in on a more intimate moment.”

Your head snaps up, heat blooming in your cheeks as you slap his shoulder. “San! We’re in the barn!”

A smirk is the only warning you get before San wraps both his arms around you and hoists you into the air, ignoring your squeal. “My house is just across the creek, you know. We don’t have to be in the barn.” You swear he can see how flustered you are just by your expression, and it only seems to egg him on. His one hand moves down to hold you up by your thighs, and you don’t think your face could get any hotter. “Shall we celebrate?”

“San–” you start to decline, but then you pause, casting a glance over your shoulder. Seeonghwa is long gone, and you’re sure Mr Takeru and the Mayor will be talking for a good few hours. “...All right. But put me down!”

Laughing, San happily sets you on your feet, leaning in to press his lips against yours again. “I really am glad you decided to stay, YN. Thank you for choosing me.”

“And if given the chance, I would choose you over and over San.” You smile up at him, reaching up to cup his face and pull him in for yet another kiss. Although the future seems uncertain, you’ll be happy to navigate it with him by your side.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: January 2024 ❤ 🐍😊

A toast to the new year, courtesy of your favourite angel and demon. Let’s start off 2024 with a preview of some new artwork from the Loot Packs, this time courtesy of Mark Buckingham: 

Our updates will, naturally, become more packed as the year goes on, and for January it’s a fairly swift one, but we promise from here in, there will be lots to cover. 

An update from Colleen

For those of you who missed it, Colleen Doran, our ineffable artist, has posted an update over on Substack detailing her 2023 working on the graphic novel, but also her own journey with various health issues and looking ahead to 2024. As she mentions, but it is worth reiterating: the Good Omens HQ team sends all the good wishes and support to Colleen, now publicly as we had previously done privately. The graphic novel is more than worth the wait. You can read Colleen's full post here.

Some admin...

Final reminder: Cameos 

Thanks to everyone who has submitted their photos. We’ve collated everyone’s excellent pictures for the various tier levels and been in touch if there are any issues, but we have to issue a final reminder for those who backed a cameo tier and have yet to submit. We have sent several individual chases to anyone outstanding and we want to make sure everyone who backed the tier gets their cameo. A final deadline of Friday 9th February 2024 has been set; while we will share any images submitted with Colleen beyond then, with the graphic novel significantly underway, we cannot guarantee inclusion beyond the deadline. 

Addresses

We’ve been messaged a lot about this, so to put minds at ease: we’ve not yet asked for addresses, and this will be done via PledgeManager when it launches later in the year. If you’re moving house, or have moved since backing, don’t worry! All is fine, and can be updated down the road. If you’d like to add more items, this will also be possible there. We’ll notify backers when it’s live, but you can also sign up for an update from PledgeManager if you’d like. 

A Masterful Masterpost

If you'd like to dive more into the behind the scenes of the graphic novel, there's a great masterpost to check out courtesy of @captainfantasticalright. You can view that on Tumblr and TikTok.

Pins? Pins! 

We’ve heard you asking for updates beyond the pins and while we’re working on getting a number of the items to the final stages for production and photographing to share with you, and plan to have some for next month’s update (wait until you see the socks that have just arrived), we’re not quite there yet. So, for those fans of “how many times can you say pins in an update”, here’s a first look at the bookshop pin from the mystery pin packs:

Pins are being notoriously shiny in photos, but exciting nonetheless. Here’s the first(!) delivery of pins that have arrived at GOHQ: 

Safe to say, we have a lot of pins. How many times have we said pins so far? One more for good measure: pins. 

A surprise!

(x) Until next time.