#This is the third ask regarding these boys being oblivious

[mykneeshurt]

How would 141 boys react if the reader (female) has a tendency to be unintentionally lewd and radiates submissive energy. Example: looking up at them with frowned brows, doe eyes and teeth biting onto their lips as they listen to them. Always responding with “yes sir, yes lieutenant, yes please, please ghost” even for the minor inconvenience. Moaning/groaning when they are pissed or tired. Always slipping out something inappropriate like “Lt can you pull my hair?” “Si, can you tie my hair in a ponytail (while the reader is knelt down)” “cap zip my pants please it’s stuck” until one day they finally break and have their ways with the reader, teaching her a lesson for being a tease (sorry the prompt is a bit long)

Lmao I am this person, I don’t mean to be hahaha. F!reader

Price 🥃

It started with a simple moan, you stretched in your seat after a pretty long and intense meeting. You arched your back over the top of your seat and let slip a satisfied moan. No one else caught it but Price did.

It happened again after a sparring session, you massaged your thigh as a string of moans fell past your lips. He tried not to listen, tried to focus on the fight in front of him. ‘So tight’ you muttered to yourself, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on your Captain.

The third time you were summoned to his office and as you walked in your hit your elbow on the door. Rather than swearing or saying ow like a normal person you again, moaned.

He’d had enough. Price threw his pen down and stormed over to the door locking it. Pinning you against the wall he cupped your jaw ‘gonna make you moan for real love.’

Soap 🧼

You and Soap were close but there was underlying tension, ever since you first met. You danced along it never crossing the line.

You were a tactile person. Very touchy feely, you loved human contact. You loved giving hugs in the nicest most innocent way possible, but Soap found it incredibly difficult to keep his thought pure.

Your breasts pushed into him, accentuating your cleavage every damn time. You’d look up at him with innocence written all over your face. When ever he’d hug you back a content sigh would always fill the gap between you.

A hand on a shoulder there, a pat on a thigh there, innocent little touches but coming from you? They felt like fire to him. He knew you were being nice, this is who you were but the way your touch lingered, killed him every time.

It came to a head after a pretty tough mission, everyone was emotionally drained. Hugs always made you feel better, so naturally you hugged Soap. As he tightened his grip you did that damned sigh, pulling back he stared into your eyes before placing the most tender and loving kiss on your lips. He finally got a different type of hug later that night, one he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Ghost 💀

Ghost had always watched you from a distance, regarding you. You reeked of submissive energy to him, always eager to please. Always so polite. ‘Yes sir.’ ‘Yes Lieutenant.’ Your voice always so sultry and pleading. He had to keep to his distance, you were destroying him.

Which is why he was dreading having to ask you if you could fix his tac pants. You were good at sewing so the 141 lads would often ask you to fix their clothes. You obliged because why wouldn’t you.

You’d forced him to try on the trousers that needed fixing so you could assess the damage. As you knelt down you tied your hair into a ponytail and looked up at him. Huge innocent doe eyes a warm smile plastered over your face.

You poked and pulled at the fabric to see if it could be fixed, completely unaware of Ghosts growing erection. He tried desperately to think of something else, but seeing you on your knees in front of him? He couldn’t take it.

He lifted your jaw with two fingers, and wiped his thumb over your bottom lip. That’s when you bit it. Game over. His trousers were soon down to his ankles stuffing your throat with his cock.

Gaz 🇬🇧

It had been a freezing day whilst doing the drills set out by the captain. So cold in fact your couldn’t move your fingers. ‘Gaaaaaaz’ you drawled innocently ‘can you undo my pants please? I can’t move my fingers.’ He hated how sweetly you said his name. He’d move mountains for you if you asked.

He pulled you in close to him as he tugged at your trousers. He could feel his heart pounding, once he’d finished you gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Meaning nothing by it, but it’s all he thought about.

After another long training day you were all sat in the rec room, you leant against Gaz and asked for a head massage. Sitting in between his legs he pulled out your pony tail causing you to drop your head back into his lap and moan at the release of pressure. Instantly he felt himself become hard.

It only got worse from there. As his massaged your head small moans and gasps came from your mouth. At this point it was late and it was only you two in the room. He couldn’t take anymore. Placing his hand along your neck you offered him a devilish smile.

The rest is history, you spend all night with his cock buried in you as he drank your moans like a sweet nectar.

[215-luv]

AKAASHI & TSUKISHIMA WHEN YOU’RE IN AN UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATION

(tw: cursing, attempted assault)

AKAASHI

it was really unexpected of him to act this way—not when everyone sees him as a composed person especially with the way he handles the volleyball team’s team captain, bokuto kotaro. so, when people saw the way his calm demeanor drops the moment his eyes take sight of some third year dude being handsy with you, it’s over.

keiji was in the middle of volleyball practice with the team and as usual, you were there to watch him from afar. your peace, however, was interrupted when a senior who you were kind of familiar with approaches you out of the blue. you recognized him as the student council president, however, you couldn’t recall his name. since you were the only person in the gym who seemed approachable, he asked about the coach and told you he was practically there to talk to the team captain about some collaboration for all clubs in the school. since almost everyone in the school knows that you frequently visit the gym, he knew you were someone who was familiar with the ropes of the team, so he initiated a conversation with you.

to be honest, the whole interaction with him didn’t stain you with a bad feeling at all. he was actually really polite and didn’t show any ulterior move towards you. soon enough, the initial topic of the conversation regarding the clubs slipped away as it turned to a talk about your similar interests. he was an easy going guy, and he introduces himself to you with his name, kento, and to your surprise he already knew yours before you could introduce yourself.

too basked in your conversation with the council president, the both of you seem to didn’t get a hold of the time. you were pulled out of your conversation when you hear the cheers of the team, signaling the end of practice, and you were oblivious to the unusual look your boyfriend has been giving you from across the court.

and, well, it seems the team has noticed the distant look on keiji’s face as he eyes the seemingly fun interaction you’re currently having with kento. he swears it’s been like that the whole duration of the practice—but it’s not like he’s jealous about it, of course. there’s no way he’ll act irrationally about some little conversation you’re having with the student council president. he might have approached you about something related to school, of course, he wouldn’t think of any other reason why kento would approach you other than that. but why are the two of you laughing so much? why are you smiling so brightly? oh dear god, this is driving him crazy. the gears on his brain were rapidly functioning with a feeling of discomfort in him that he couldn’t fathom why he’s feeling that way. his overthinking was eating him alive and he so desperately wanted to push it all away because he feels like he doesn’t have any reason to feel uncomfortable at all.

“isn’t that yamazaki kento? the student council president?” keiji hears konoha murmur to komi, who was nodding in response, eyes suspiciously eyeing the boy you were still talking with.

bokuto’s eyes practically widens, “yamazaki kento? so his last name is yamazaki? i swear i heard him introducing himself by his first name to keiji’s s/o a while ago.”

what?

keiji didn’t hear that right, did he?

“huh? they’re that close already?”

no, what the fuck—because why is keiji feeling this way? why does he feel his stomach churning in discomfort. he shouldn’t feel this way at all. you were simply talking to someone, let alone making new friends. he didn’t want to make you feel like he’s stopping you from doing so simply because he’s getting a bad feeling about all of this.

the side glances and stares from the team doesn’t make things much better for keiji. his mind is full of endless thoughts, but the blank look on his face tells another story.

he tries to keep his composure, he swears. he’s calm, he promises. he’s okay, you’re okay. he trusts this yamazaki kento, he’s the student council president for pete’s sake.

everything felt so odd for keiji that he could barely register his feelings or how he should feel about the situation. from the look of his teammates, however, this was a bad thing. and honestly, he already knew it was from the beginning.

“well..” bokuto trails off, eyes pointing towards you and yamazaki kento with a frown, “not sure what to feel about that, but it looks like they’re having fun so i guess there’s no harm in that.”

konoha snorts, “psh, yeah, too much fun.”

“konoha, shut the fuck up.”

yeah, konoha, shut the fuck up. keiji practically screams in his mind—an unusual thing of him to do. a bitter taste lingers in his mouth as he glares at the wing spiker.

moments of awkward silence passes, as if the team is waiting for any reaction from the setter. and finally, keiji sighs, thinking that he should put an end to this conversation before things get worse.

“i have no idea why all of you are making unnecessary comments about this. it’s really nothing to make a fuss about, honestly.” he says, eyeing the team with a cold gaze that greatly hides the uneasiness he’s feeling deep inside.

“gee, he’s a good actor” komi murmurs next to konoha with an amusing look. bokuto hears it and hardly nudges his torso in panic.

bokuto clears his throat with a dry laugh, “well, yamazaki kento is an honorable council president, after all! it’s no doubt he’s talking to your dear s/o because of their amazing and outstanding role in this school—“

“yeah, well, you might want to think about that again,” konoha cuts him off with a cough, lowly pointing a thumb at the other end of the court where you’re located at. everyone swiftly turns their head towards that direction.

and as if keiji is met with his worst nightmare, to his horror, he sees the so-called honorable student council president subtly holding your arm, his body stepping closer towards you—as if the distance between you isn’t enough.

okay, what the hell? keiji is damn sure that you and this guy just met, so why is he being so touchy with you? why is he letting you call him by his first name? is he that dense? is his head okay? doesn’t he know that your boyfriend is literally standing a few distances away, eyeing him with a glare?

and there, keiji sees it. he swears it’s his breaking point.

you took a step back, trying to put some distance between you and yamazaki kento.

but then this prick takes a step forward, knowing damn well you’re trying to distance yourself from him.

there it is. keiji notices, you’re uncomfortable. your body language says it all. now, the endless thoughts in his mind is replaced with pure anger.

keiji’s pissed.

“okay, what the fuck?” bokuto comments, “first, he’s on first name basis with akaashi’s s/o, now, he’s being all handsy wi—wait, akaashi, where are you go—oh, shit. holy shit! it’s happening. he’s pissed alright. konoha, go get your damn camera!”

from the other side of the court, resided you and yamazaki kento.

you swore things were going well. you and the guy had a lot of things to agree on. but why is he suddenly being all handsy with you? what’s the purpose of him holding your arm as if he’s known you for years? you just met him! hell, you didn’t even know who he was before he introduced himself.

also, it was so weird of him to know your name beforehand. the feeling of ease has been eaten away by anxiety as you did your best to kindly give yamazaki the hint of your discomfort.

your lips forms into an uneasy smile, “u-uhm, would it be alright for you to move away a bit? we’re too—“

“too close?” yamazaki kento continues with a smirk plastered on his face and your stomach churns.

the guy now raises both his hands, subtly holding the sides of your arms while he eyes you intensely and you panic.

your breathing turns uneven, “w-what are you do—“

as if the air was knocked out of your lungs, an arm aggressively pushes the guy away from you, creating as much distance between you two. the air suddenly feels lighter—all the more when you see your boyfriend standing infront of you, his warm hands replacing themselves on the sides of your arms. his hold on you was much more gentle, more comforting and warm. you never felt so relieved your whole life.

“keiji,” you breathed out with a relieved look on your face. and keiji was quick to pull you in his arms to an embrace, not giving a damn about the student council president on the floor from the impact of his push.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, his lips lingering on your forehead, “you’re okay. i’m here. you’re safe with me, darling.”

thank god keiji’s intuition was always right.

TSUKISHIMA

kei is always one who has a lot of things to say—most especially the mean things. it’s simply who he is and he doesn’t give a damn if he attracts a lot of enemies because of that trait of his. when it comes to you however, he doesn’t seem to get himself to act mean towards you—his significant other. he’s head over heels for you, it’s a fact. and it’s sure as hell that the whole school knows about that. the infamous, cold-hearted guy falls inlove with a down to earth, kind person. how cliché—but it’s cute, isn’t it?

it was training camp, and karasuno, along with other teams from different regions in japan were present. you were one of the people who volunteered to help with the team since this year’s training camp would involve more schools to join, therefore they needed the help.

and so, as the kind person you are, you willingly joined the team for their training camp. plus, you would be able to see kei more. the idea of traveling afar and meeting a lot of people gave you the feeling of excitement—the complete opposite of your boyfriend, who thought of everyone else but you a nuisance.

you barely were able to recover from shock when you’ve arrived at the destination. the gym was huge, filled with so many faces that some you were familiar with, but most of them you don’t recognize at all. kiyoko was snickering at the shocked look you and yachi had while some of karasuno had their jaws on the floor.

you were too busy gaping at the huge gym in awe that you weren’t able to register a tall presence approaching you. his fingers raises to flick your forehead with a tiny sound—the action nearly scaring the wits out of you.

you tilt your chin up to meet eyes with your boyfriend. you give him a glare and he replies with a tiny smirk.

“are you surprised?” he asks you, his tone giving off the vibe that he’s teasing you.

you huffed, “of course i am, kei. it’s my first time after all.”

“well, you’re going to be met with even more surprises the longer you stay.” your boyfriend says, raising a hand to place it at the top of your head, “good luck with that.”

“yeah, sure. thank you for your concern, kei.”

you have your regrets.

a day has passed and you realized you wanted to take back your insincerity when you thanked him for wishing you a good luck.

“what’s a ‘lil mouse like doin’ you here? are ya lost?”

fuck. scratch all that, you needed to escape. now.

it’s a funny situation, really. kiyoko has instructed you to fill up the team’s water bottles. and you’ve successfully done so, your mission was done. everything was going so well. you thought you wouldn’t come across any problem along the way because you were just simply told to fill the bottles with water.

however, as you were on your way back, you bumped into an unfamiliar face—a tall guy who you assume to be one of the players from some school based on the shirt he’s wearing.

you apologized for bumping into him, and the basket filled with bottles that you were holding were so heavy you wanted to rush back to the gym as much as possible.

the guy, on the other hand, had other plans.

as soon as you were about to walk past by him, he raises his arm to block your away, and your head swiftly faces him in surprise. suddenly, the basket on your grip feels heavier.

you gulp, “y-yes?”

“what’s a ‘lil mouse like doin’ you here? are ya lost?” the guy smirks, eyes moving up and down your body. suddenly, you feel sick in the stomach.

you try your best to get out of here as soon as possible, making sure not to offend the guy because god, he looked like he could do something to you any second.

you released a forced laugh, “haha, just doing some duties for the team. i have to go now—“

“hol’ up. why are ya leavin’ so soon, darlin’?” the guy now blocks your way with his whole body, his tall figure blocking the light from you as you’re covered with his shadow. you wanted to cry, why is he being so persistent? you should have asked kiyoko or yachi to come with you.

you sure are met with a surprise. kei was absolutely right and you’re surely damned. dear god, where’s kei when you need him?

“where are they?”

kei agitatedly questions the team managers as soon as the team gets back to the bench after ending another match. it has been nearly twenty minutes and you haven’t returned—which worried kei although he tried his best not to cause a huge fuss about it.

“i asked them to fill the bottles for the team,” kiyoko answers, “however, i’m not sure what’s taking them so long. i’m starting to get worried.”

kei immediately furrows his eyebrows, “they went there alone? you mean to say no one accompanied them?”

fuck, he’s mad. the whole team screams in their heads. they all inwardly panic. all of them stood there stiff while glancing at one another, unable to say anything as it might fuel the anger inside kei even more.

yachi shudders, “w-what if—“

“don’t.” kei glares at her, stopping her from whatever she’s about to say because he’s sure it would only make the discomfort he’s feeling even worse. poor yachi squeaks at the glare he sent her, but he couldn’t care—not when you’re taking too long to go back. he swears his heart begins to beat rapidly every second he doesn’t see you.

“tsukishima..” sugawara tries to console him, he had an uneasy look on his face while slowly approaching the middle blocker.

“we’ll find them right now, we don’t have any matches lef—ah, and there he goes,” suga trails off, watching as the blonde walks out of the gym without a word to find you.

“no need to tell him what to do, i guess.”

the rest of the team then decides to split up to find you, hoping that you’re safe and sound.

back to where you were, near the area of where the water fountain was—you still stood there frozen, holding the heavy basket of water bottles.

the guy who’s practically towering over you lowers himself so he could get a better glimpse of you—the action making you take an immediate step backward as the close distance between you two made you uncomfortable. you gulped, refusing to look at him in the eye. he was so close that you could feel the sensation of his warm breath, making you feel nauseous.

“pretty bird.” the guy chuckles.

from the corner of your eye, you could see his hand raising itself to the side of your head. you flinch when his fingers were close to hover themselves over your hair strands.

and then, in a swift motion, a hand grabs the guy’s wrist, halting him from touching you. you jump in surprise.

“wh—“

“touch even a strand of their hair, and i’ll make sure you won’t have the hands to do so.”

that voice. your eyes widens, the uneasiness in your stomach dissipating as soon as you see your boyfriend standing close next to you.

kei quickly squeezes himself between you and the guy so he’s blocking sight of you from the weirdo. he grabs hold of your hand from behind, giving it a tight squeeze in assurance—then he takes the heavy basket from your grip. you couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. you were practically shaking, and you hadn’t realized that until kei came to the rescue.

“you’re here.” you whisper quietly under your breath, only for your boyfriend to hear, “thank you, kei.”

once again, you feel your boyfriend squeezing your hand, the action giving you the right amount of warmth and comfort. despite his gentle advancements towards you, it was evident that he’s practically fuming.

kei was overflowing with anger.

the veins on the side of his neck were popping and evident. his eyes were narrowed and his lips were turned to a tight frown.

“so?” kei looks at the guy infront of him, his golden eyes piercing and cold, “do we have a deal?”

and just like that, the guy walks away with a huff.

[partycatty]

Do you write for other characters like bi han or tomas?

i do! i'm just mentally ill over johnny LOL

lin kuei trio > caught

the boys can't keep their eyes off of you! what're you gonna do about it?!

warnings: idk nothing much tbh, i guess a little nsfw at the end of smoke's part but nothing crazy, controversial bi-han take? kuai favoritism <3 & google translate

notes: pretend that bi-han's betrayal doesn't happen for his part. i rewrote this twice bc i kept accidentally clicking on notifs and forgetting to save. third time's the charm :3 also pls admire that i specifically made gifs of each man making eye contact w you teehee

masterlist <3

♡

bi-han >

•let me preface this by saying i heavily disagree with the headcanons of most of his fics. this man is ASS at verbalizing affection, and probably wants a trad wife to serve him. he won't call you "princess" or "doll," and PDA is not his strong suit. he'll love you of course, he just wouldn't show it with flowers and cuddles.

•that being said, all he could do was eye you down as you opened the front door, coming face to face with him, his brother kuai liang, and the fire god liu kang. your jaw opened and closed rapidly, trying to make sense of the two ninjas and man with glowing eyes.

•"uhh, there's no hunky ninja-themed bachelorette party here tonight," you say, raising an eyebrow. "try two houses down. lord knows they're a couple of freaks—" before you could close the door on them, bi-han reaches forward and sticks his foot in the door. liu kang, the primary voice of reason and supposed leader of the situation, asks to enter your home. you don't feel like you're in a position to decline.

•kuai liang wanders your living room, tracing his finger across your shelves and leaning in to inspect your paintings. liu kang stands in front of you, giving you the whole "earthrealm, fire god, tournament, chosen one" spiel, we all know how it goes. but you're struggling to focus, struggling pretty hard actually, because bi-han is literally standing like a statue at your kitchen island a few feet away, his icy glare seemingly stabbing through your skull. perhaps he's just intimidating you into an agreement. it works.

•you really hope that bi-han's staring ends there, but you are a damn fool.

•you train alongside the other recruited earthrealmers, taking a short break when you see a now-familiar trio stroll through the training grounds. yellow, grey... and blue. and even though their destination seems well past your location, bi-han literally could not tear his eyes away from you as you sat under the tree as you try to relieve yourself of the ruthless heat of the sun. he drinks in your damp form, and the way your hair sticks sweetly to your forehead. that is, until kuai liang gives him an obvious playful jab to his side, making bi-han snap forward and continue to lead his brothers, not before shooting him a nasty look. icy frost is noticeable on his fists as he clenches them.

•are you losing your mind? why the hell is the grandmaster of the lin kuei eating you alive with his eyes alone? you try to confide in your earthrealm partners, but raiden shrugs, kenshi's at a loss for words, and kung lao and johnny just laugh boisterously at your oblivious nature.

•finally, you're accompanying the lin kuei trio as they wait for instruction from liu kang regarding the soul stealing beacons. smoke and scorpion sit on the bench while sub-zero paces endlessly. each time he faces your way, he locks eyes with you. what is this guy's deal? it literally looks like he wants to skin you alive.

•kung lao and raiden permit them to enter liu kang's meeting room, and bi-han immediately struts off with a noticeable tinge of pink on his face. as the other two follow, you stop and grab kuai liang's shoulder gently, making him face you with surprised eyes.

•"pardon my hindrance, scorpion," you say with a quick bow. "but your grandmaster has been eyeing me down since as long as i've known him. is... is there something i did? something he is displeased with? i find it quite unnerving."

•kuai liang's face freezes, and then very clearly fights a shit-eating smirk. it's not typical for him to be as amused as he is now, but how could he resist when he could literally see what was going on? he chuckles for a moment.

•"bi-han thinks you'd make a good wife," kuai liang replies, a smile tugging at his lips. "please forgive his harsh expression. he couldn't shake it if he tried."

•with that, bi-han's younger brother turns on his heel and enters the mission debrief, leaving you beet red and suddenly completely understanding the signs after the fact.

•when the trio returns successful, you stop noticing his eye contact, because you're too embarrassed to even glance in his general direction. doesn't stop him, though.

♡

smoke >

•you were an initiate of the shirai ryu following its formation. disgusted by the betrayal of your former grandmaster, tomas and kuai liang beckoned you to carry on a new oath in a new chapter of the close-knit clan. you had not seen them much prior to this, but they didn't think to question your dedication.

•since reforming the clan and being given a higher position rather than a lowly grunt, your uniform changed. the once all-black, full-body uniform became something you could design. you opted for something a little more... breathable. think mk11 mileena.

•shut up i know ninja uniforms are like that for a reason just bear with me

•you decide to debut said outfit at a meeting over tea, strutting in and taking your seat with grace. tomas nearly chokes on his damn tea, a single puff of smoke shooting from his lips as he coughs. he wishes he had his mask on right about now, so he could conceal his reddening cheeks. you, his brother, and harumi look at him with partially perplexed, partially amused glances before moving on, hoping to save smoke from the embarrassment of being confronted.

•every time you leaned forward to point at the map centered on the table, tomas's eyes were glued to you. this poor man doesn't know what to do with himself when you're just so pretty! taking a gentle sip of your tea as kuai liang asks tomas about the new recruit, that hasashi boy, you glance up past the cup and realize tomas is quite literally giving you heart eyes, completely entranced. you chuckle to yourself. it is quite cute when he looks at you like that, lips parted and eyes gentle.

•"grandmaster," you say calmly, turning toward the pyromancer. "it seems your second-in-command missed your question. would you mind repeating yourself?" as you ask, tomas seemingly snaps out of it and tries to conceal his devious thoughts, putting his palm over his mouth and leaning on his elbow on the table.

•kuai liang groans to himself before repeating the question, one that tomas answers quickly and a little anxiously. he flashes you a sheepish smile. harumi giggles and look at the two of you knowingly.

•a long evening of training kicked your ass, and you decided you deserved a good rest in the nearby hot springs. fully confirming you're alone in the moonlight, you strip of your uniform and dip into the hot water. your tense muscles unravel at the warmth and you let out a pleased moan at the relief. the water reaches just above your breasts and you're about to lean your head back and close your eyes, letting the comfort of the water encapsulate you.

•that is, until you see a faint trail of smoke creep out from behind you and dip into the water around you. you smile knowingly, not even bothering to turn around.

•"tomas," you say, a hint of playful displeasure in your tone. "for a ninja, your stealth skills are starting to fall apart."

•your trained ears hear him freeze completely and let out a little gasp. tomas slips out a curse in his native language. now it's time to toy with your food.

•still in the water, you spin around and prop yourself up against the ledge of the hot springs, looking up at him seductively. tomas breaks from his deer in headlights pose and faces you, looking down and trying so incredibly hard to remain focused on your eyes, but it's just so hard when your breasts are right—

•"i've seen the way you look at me," you confess in a sultry voice. "i'm not a blind fool. it's incessant."

•"i-i didn't think you were," tomas stammers out, crouching down to be more eye level with you. "i meant no offense, you're just so... so—"

•"none taken," you chuckle, tilting your head. "were you going to be a peeping tom, or join me, then?"

♡

kuai liang >

•since being recruited for earthrealm's part in the tournament, kuai liang has paid more visits than probably necessary to run into you during your months of training.

•he'd be all like "omg heeeey what are youuuu doing hereeee" knowing damn well of your schedule (i'm lying i'm just in love with this yummy little s'more).

•though he would get into the habit of taking late night strolls around the wu shi academy to clear his mind. it was happenstance that you enjoyed the same habit.

•this man is huge and hunky, giving you comfort and safety as you navigate the moonlit paths of the land. he finds you to be a sweet conversation partner, carrying yourself with elegance and kindness that perfectly compliments his humble, noble spirit. you speak of a passion to fight for what is right, so focused on speaking and gesturing that you don't even realize kuai liang is staring down at you with utmost admiration. his heart warms (more than usual) at what a catch you are — for the tournament...!

•"tell me, scorpion," you speak up, looking up at him with eyes that could melt. "are you the only of your family to harness the power of fire?"

•"it is a long running ability in my family," kuai liang replies, confidently but with a gentle tone. "the methods in which we harness this power are a well-kept secret."

•"even so, scorpions don't burn," you reply quickly with an amused tone, grinning up at the man. you realize he was already looking down at you with a mirrored smile. "what makes you a scorpion?"

•"my strength and sting," he says as if he were reading a script. then again, he's probably been asked this hundreds of times. his brothers were icy sub-zero and hazy smoke, his name didn't exactly fit the narrative.

•as you part your lips to continue your conversation, a gust of wind makes you shiver and you let out a little gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. kuai remains unfazed but takes note of your chilliness.

•"are you alright, xiǎo huǒhuā?" he asks with a hint of uncharacteristic concern. your face warms momentarily at the nickname, only to be reminded of the bitter cold with another gust of wind. it wasn't the first time he said that unfamiliar phrase, but you just never thought to ask about it. reflecting on it now, you're realizing it's a pet name. you rub your arms.

•"just... cold," you reply with a trembling lip. "times like these i wish i had your power." for the first time in a while, kuai liang breaks his gaze from you and looks down at his hands, debating whether or not to speak up. he didn't want to push any boundaries with you, as he genuinely enjoyed your presence. still, he decided he's only got one shot.

•"it's a power i'm willing to share," he replies lowly, sticking his hands out palms-up. you look up at him, hesitant about his offer. another gust of wind, harsher this time, pushes on your back and pulls you toward him. you catch yourself on his hands. they're so warm and inviting. they're not necessarily soft, but they feel comforting and... god, so warm. as you sigh with relief, you look up again and realize that, just like every time beforehand, kuai liang was looking down at you with a soft smile. he was just always warm as a pyromancer, heat creeping through his skin no matter the weather.

•you two had successfully broken the barrier of touch, and you continue to walk down the path. kuai holds both of your hands in one of his, the other wrapped around your shoulder and rubbing up and down your arm to keep you from being too chilly. it's a sweet embrace, one that neither of you want to fully unpack yet, but it's a step nonetheless.

•"why is it that every time i look at you, you're already looking at me?" you ask quietly, enamored by his embrace. kuai tenses up momentarily, feeling a little sheepish at the direct confrontation. he soon relaxes after finding the right words.

•"because you're beautiful, xiǎo huǒhuā," he replies gently, squeezing your arm and hands tenderly.

•"what does that word mean?" you ask, face flushed and entire body no longer concerned over the cold.

•"...little spark."

•and so, you two continue to walk down the path in the moonlight, now in his comforting, toasty embrace.

[kaleidohscopic]

IN THE DYING SUMMER SUN — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: a weekend up at the beach house might just be enough to make you crack and come clean about your little (big, fat) crush. alternatively, park chanyeol is possibly the worst wingman ever. GENRE: friends to lovers! au, crush! baekhyun, romance, fluff, a pinch of angst, pining, humour WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension!!, slightly suggestive, reader and baekhyun are both kind of clueless tbh WORD COUNT: 9.4k NOTE: happy birthday baekhyun!! thought it would be fitting to start off this blog with a fic for bbh on his birthday. this was supposed to be a 4-5k piece of fluff but somehow it ended up being double that and a lot more serious than i originally intended (oops?). kinda nervy posting such a long fic for the first time ever so feedback is most certainly welcome and i hope you enjoy!

“You definitely rigged this.”

Chanyeol only rewarded you with a shit-eating grin.

The scrap of paper couldn’t weigh more than a few grams, but in your hands, they felt like the barbell plates at the gym that he could never leave alone. Especially since a certain someone was also holding another scrap of paper with ‘ground floor twin room’ hastily scrawled across it.

You shook your head vehemently, fixing the tall boy with a dagger-like stare that he seemed completely unfazed by. “I demand a redraw.”

“Which is not going to happen,” was his gleeful response. “We all agreed — no take-backs before picking.” The hat that you had all drawn out of, now empty, was tossed on the coffee table as everyone else began to move their bags into their freshly chosen rooms. Somewhere down the hallway, Jongin tripped over the wheels of his suitcase, his pained groan and Kyungsoo’s laughter bouncing against the walls of the AirBnb.

“Besides,” Chanyeol continued, hand coming up to ruffle your hair, “if I had actually rigged it, you should be thanking me. I’d be doing you a favour.” He gestured towards Baekhyun, who was busying himself with packing his hoodie back into his duffle bag, hopefully oblivious to the fact that the two of you were conspiring about him less than three metres away. 

“Yeah, say it any louder, why don’t you. And no, that wasn’t an invitation,” you warned, catching the wicked glint in Chanyeol’s eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to make good on your request and let the whole house know, only to choke back a groan at the elbow you shoved into his side. Behave, said the glare that you shot at him. His replying smile was anything but reassuring, before he picked up his bag and headed upstairs.

That was what you got for getting a little too drunk at Jongdae’s housewarming get-together last month and accidentally slipping up about your big, fat, debilitating crush on Baekhyun after the third glass of pinot noir in one night. If it had been anyone else made aware of your juvenile secret, you would probably be feeling a little less uneasy — but it just had to be the one person who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Not to mention Park Chanyeol was a terrible wingman, having heard about the ridiculous escapades he put Jongdae through before he finally cuffed his girlfriend. Lucky for you, you were now getting to experience it first-hand.

“I can ask Jongin to swap, if you really don’t want to room with me,” came a soft voice from your right. Baekhyun regarded you with an expectant, if somewhat hesitant expression. 

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, trying your best to mask the panic that was fighting its way into your voice. It would be just your luck, that he would think your reluctance to share a sleeping space with him was because you didn’t like him enough, and not that you liked him a little too much. The slight furrow in his brow seemed to melt away with your words. “I just wanted the big room with the queen bed, but somehow Chanyeol got it. I seriously think he did something to these,” you said, waving your slip of paper that matched the one he was holding.

Come to think of it, you and Baekhyun had also been the last ones to draw out of the hat, since Chanyeol had insisted on going counter-clockwise around the dining table. How he managed to game the room allocations was beyond you, but you were now almost certain that he did.

“It’s good that he’s by himself though. The snoring would drive anyone mad,” Baekhyun mused, and you had to chuckle in agreement. 

“That time he passed out at my place after Saturday drinks…I genuinely thought I’d end up with a murder charge that night.” you said, chest squeezing at the way his eyes crinkled into crescent moons at your words. You busied yourself with your own bag, hoping he wouldn’t see the dumb smile on your face, and be able to tell how pleased you were to have teased a laugh out of him. Laughter was not something he usually withheld — he gave it freely, if not a little too generously — but it always did a funny thing to your heart when you were the cause of it. 

“Definitely can’t have that. Pretty face like yours would not last a day in jail.” With one hand around his own duffle, he draped the free one around your shoulders, letting the warmth of his arm wrap around you as you headed down the corridor to the room you’d be sharing for the weekend.

Having a crush on Baekhyun was no big deal. Probably even normal, if his college days were anything to go by. But what made it so debilitating was things like this — the little comments he’d throw around that could easily be passed off as just friendly flirting if you were so inclined, though you sometimes let yourself imagine his intentions came more from the flirting than the friendly part. He was a generally touchy person too, never missing a chance to pat Kyungsoo’s ass when the opportunity arose, but sometimes the brush of his fingers against the inside of your wrist felt a little too affectionate for two people united solely through friendship, even if you were the only one who internally crossed that line a while ago. It was things like this that made you question, every once in a while, if your feelings were as one-sided as you believed. Most of the time though, you chalked it up to his disposition, his easy-going magnetism, and concluded that whatever signals you thought he was sending were merely due to your overactive imagination running wild with hopes that he felt the same way.

“Dibs left,” he said, plopping down on the twin bed closer to the window. His arms raised above his head in a long, yawning stretch, revealing a thin strip of skin at the waistband of his jeans. Just the sight of it was enough to control your blood, sending a rush of it to your face, and you internally cursed yourself for being so weak to such a small thing. It was obvious you had been alone for way too long. He was too comfortable to notice the flush on your cheeks, eyes shut and enjoying the tension leaving his body after the long drive up.

You sat yourself down carefully on the remaining bed, noting the gap between the two mattresses. Whether you wanted to push them together or against opposite walls of the room, you couldn’t be sure. It was hard to form coherent thoughts when he turned to you with a boyish playfulness that curled the corner of his mouth upwards.

“You’re not going to sleepwalk your way into my bed, are you?” he asked, chin in his hand, a teasing glint in his eyes. You tried hard to catch yourself from choking on your own saliva.

“I’ve been known to kick in my sleep,” was your reply, voice much more nonchalant than you thought you were capable of, given that he had just planted the seed of the two of you sharing a twin mattress that was definitely not big enough to lie down on without touching in at least three different places. The glint in his eyes faded immediately, giving way to thinly-veiled concern at the threat underlying your words.

“I was kidding,” you clarified when he sat up and started to back away from you. “At least, I haven’t done that for fifteen or so years. But you never know, it might come back again tonight, when you’ve finally fallen asleep, and then BAM! Foot to the face. You better sleep with your eyes open, Byun Baekhyun,” you warned, giggling at the realisation dawning over his face before his pretty features settled into mock annoyance.

“You just think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He was on all fours now, making his way towards you with a wolfish grin. In no time, he had crawled over the gap between your two beds and suddenly his fingers were prodding at your ribs. It was a well-planned tickle attack, and one you had no chance of escaping from, since his legs had caged you in and the rest of him was pinning you down. You were helpless against the ambush of his fingers, succumbing to them with gasping giggles, punctuated by desperate pleas for him to stop. He showed no intention of letting up, fingers digging even deeper into your waist.

If you were going to die like this, you thought, at least you’d be dying while lying under him.

“When you two are done canoodling, we’re going to go set up on the beach,” came a voice from the doorway. Baekhyun’s merciless fingers paused, and the two of you looked back to see Chanyeol’s amused face at the foot of your bed, smirking like he knew some big secret that neither of you were privy to. God, you were seriously regretting that third glass at Jongdae’s new apartment last month.

Baekhyun turned back to you, your noses almost touching, and you could feel the air from his exhales fanning against the skin of your cheek. There was a mole just above the corner of his mouth that you don’t think you had ever noticed before. Warmth from his jean-clad legs radiated into your hips and meandered up and down your spine, and suddenly the late summer air around you was becoming sticky and heavier than usual. 

As if just now noticing the proximity you were in, he slowly untangled himself from your limbs, making sure not to crush you in the process. You sat up, still breathless, having just calmed down enough for full inhales again, but so was he, you noted. Surely tickling wasn’t that exertive of an activity? Or maybe you’d put up a better fight than you had thought.

“Don’t forget your towels,” was the last thing Chanyeol said before he ducked out, yelling at Jongin to grab the beach umbrellas, not the rain ones. There were a few seconds just filled with the sounds of your slowing breathing.

“I’m going to go get changed,” Baekhyun said, turning around to dig through his bag for his swim shorts. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could hear the slight tremble in his voice that indicated he hadn’t quite recovered from whatever was afflicting him. “We’ll probably just be setting up the umbrellas, so no rush, just come down when you’re ready.” As he turned around to head towards the bathroom, he flashed you that familiar smile, the one that always resulted in one of your own to mirror his, and set you at ease again. 

“And make sure you bring your sunscreen,” he added, before disappearing down the hallway. You watched him go, throwing yourself back onto the bed with a frustrated groan once you were sure he was out of earshot. Two whole days and nights in this tiny room, in the languid death of summer, with his body just an arm’s length away from yours — you had no idea how much of this you could stomach and emerge with your sanity intact.

This was shaping up to be the longest weekend ever.

The afternoon sun was unforgiving when you emerged from the house. Though you had thrown on a cover up before leaving, you could feel the heat tingling on the surface of your skin through the thin cotton. From the top of the bushy path leading down to the beach, you could already hear the tell-tale signs of a competition brewing between the boys, even if you couldn’t quite see them yet. A few steps down and you could make out their figures, managing to catch the view of Chanyeol flipping backwards off the jetty before plunging into the water, where the rest of them were bobbing around. Baekhyun’s voice floated above the others the way it always did when he was teasing, liltingly distinguishable, though perhaps that was only because you were now so attuned to it that other voices naturally started to sound more foreign. 

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when he went from Baekhyun, your friend who tended to get a little too rowdy after half a can of beer, to Baekhyun, your friend who made your heart pick up a little faster when you thought of him. One day his hiccuping laugh was teetering on the edge of obnoxiousness, and then all of a sudden it became endearing to hear the raw joy in his voice. If you knew exactly when the switch flipped, maybe you’d be able to retrace your steps and stop yourself from ever setting off down this path to end up where you were now, watching the sunlight glisten against his wet face with an overwhelming affection, wondering what it would be like to be the private audience of his radiant smile everyday.

You set your things down on the sand next to the pile of clothes and towels that were already there, recognising Chanyeol’s hat somewhere in the mix. The beach umbrella that Jongin had set up was already beginning to lurch towards one side, the brim rather close to the ground. Fixing it back in place and digging it into the sand a little deeper, you let out a fond laugh — some things, like the way Jongin used his hands like they weren’t his own, would stand the test of time. 

You had hoped that your friendship with Baekhyun would be one of those things, but the more time you spent casting longing glances his way when he wasn’t looking, the more you weren’t sure if you could ever recover from his rejection if you ever did decide to be honest about your feelings towards him. So you did your best to bury them, content to enjoy his company in the way you were both familiar with, afraid that if they did surface, they’d taint your friendship with something unpleasant and irreversible. If you couldn’t own the sun, at least you could still revel in its warmth.

Satisfied with the position of your towel underneath the shade of the umbrella, you looked back at the water, returning Baekhyun’s sweeping wave with a small one of your own. It was just enough of a distraction for Chanyeol to turn around as well, and Baekhyun seized the opportunity to dunk him, gleefully howling as the taller boy’s head disappeared below the waves. Before Chanyeol could resurface and enact his retaliation, Baekhyun was already making his escape, swimming towards the shore with fearful determination. Chanyeol made to follow, but upon seeing you sitting on the beach with your eyes fixed on Baekhyun’s approaching figure, he thought better of it, turning back around to continue the diving evaluation as Jongin took his turn to leap off the jetty.

With an amused smile, you watched as Baekhyun hurried out of the ocean, wet hair flying in all directions and flicking droplets of seawater across the sand. The water trickled down the planes of his bare torso, and you tried to keep your eyes away from the firmness of his pec, or the flexing movements of his abdominals as he made his way over to you. One thing was for sure — the gym sessions with Chanyeol were paying off. 

When he finally reached you, Baekhyun slumped onto your towel, ignoring your protests for him to stay away, and proceeded to soak you in the remaining water that was still clinging to his body. The skin of his stomach was cool against your calf, and he giggled delightfully at your attempts to push him off to avoid getting more water onto your clothes.

“Stop trying to fight it, you’re going to get wet when you go in anyway,” he said, finally rolling off you.

“I wasn’t planning on going in. I’m scared you’ll try to drown me,” you huffed, lightly flicking some sand onto his shoulder with your toe. He turned back around, chin cradled in his left hand, and flashed you a boyish smile.

“I would never do that,” he said, though the glint in his eyes was anything but convincing. “Besides, what are you going to do at the beach if you’re not getting in the water?”

You picked up the book nestled in between your shoes and waved it at him. “Read, of course.” He regarded the worn paperback with amused disbelief, eyebrows slightly raised. It was only when you flipped the book open to the paperclip you’d been using as a bookmark that he realised you were serious, and let out a scoff that was laced with something akin to fondness.

“You are such a cliche. Pretty girl reading at the beach? Unbelievable, seriously,” he said, before wriggling his head into your stomach, relishing in your shocked squeals as your cover up began to dampen again. His mischief had left a few wet patches on the fabric that were beginning to stick to your body in the uncomfortable fashion of late summer. You reached for the hem, pulling it off not without some struggle, and immediately felt the sun kissing against your bare shoulders. Though you were mostly covered by the shade from the umbrella, the last thing you wanted was a blistering sunburn where the straps of your tote bag usually rested, so you grabbed the sunscreen you had so diligently packed and began applying it on the parts of your skin that were exposed.

Baekhyun had gone uncharacteristically quiet. If you had been paying attention to him instead of so attentively rubbing the cream into the underside of your knee, perhaps you would have noticed the way his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than would have been polite. They followed the path your hands took, from the expanse of skin below your neck, across your stomach, and down the length of your legs.

“Do you want me to do your back?” he blurted, his voice a little more strained than usual. He was wearing an odd expression on his face, something you couldn’t quite place, but it was different from the usual playful one you were most well acquainted with. Nevertheless, you agreed, passing him the tube and turning around so your back was facing him.

His fingers were still cold from the water, and you jumped when they first made contact with your skin. He only laughed, squeezing both hands around your shoulders to hold you still before he got back to work again.

The first graze of his hands across your shoulders was tentative. You could feel the heat of him behind your back, the smell of salt and sun clinging to the air around you. His breaths fanned the skin on the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs despite the thick heat of the afternoon. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Slowly, his hands made their way down to your lower back, and it was then that you realised you might be in trouble. His hands pressed against the grooves of your spine, curving ever so slightly around your waist, and if you shivered, he pretended not to feel you tremble in his grasp. 

It was when his fingers slipped underneath the ties of your bikini top that the alarm bells began to go off in your head. His movements were hesitant, fingers stuttering in their dance across your skin before they gingerly pulled the strings aside to spread the sunscreen between the top and bottom halves of your back. It was too much, feeling his warmth, knowing there was only an inch of space between your bare torsos, having his hands on you doing such a thorough job with the task he had assigned to himself. When the tips of his fingers brushed the side of your ribs, just under the edge of the fabric, you couldn’t help the breathy noise that escaped your lips. 

“Actually, I think I left something back at the house,” you said suddenly, words hurriedly running into each other as they tripped over your tongue on the way out of your mouth. Twisting away from his dangerous touch, you bolted to a stand and hoped he’d attribute the pinkness of your cheeks to being outside in the brightness of the afternoon. Your words came out staggered, the slight tremble in your voice betraying the composure you were fighting so hard to maintain. 

Baekhyun’s gaze was careful, if not a little confused. The more his eyes ran over you, the more you were sure that the depth of your feelings towards him were beginning to surface on your face. Another second and he’d be able to tell, he’d figure out the little secret you’d been trying to conceal for the last couple of months. And then you wouldn’t be able to deny its existence anymore. 

So you fled, tossing a rushed promise to be right back over your shoulder before scurrying up the bushy path again. Away from the scrutiny of his eyes, away from the truth you did not want revealed to the world. The ghost of his touch lingered between your shoulder blades and along the ridges of your spine, your body already committing to memory the caress of his skin against yours. You realised then, that it would not be possible to continue living on as usual, now that you knew the taste of his closeness, as fleeting as it may have been.

“I think you should just go for it.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass at his words. Chanyeol’s tone was light and pragmatic, speaking as if the act of unfurling your heart were nothing more than a decision about whether to have steak or pork belly for dinner. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed, bringing the bottle to your lips.

“I’m serious though,” he continued, nudging your arm with the lip of his own beer. “I think you should just tell him, and see what he says. And stop expecting the worst. You’ll never know how things could turn out if you never do anything.”

You let your head fall back to lean on the doorframe you were both standing against, gazing out at the patio that had begun to darken following the sunset. Baekhyun and Jongin were placed at opposite ends of the ping pong table that had been wheeled out of the living room after dinner, neither seeming to mind the soft prick of grass at the underside of their bare feet. Whether the game was proceeding well was difficult to deduce, since both were sporting wide grins and rosy cheeks, courtesy of the glasses in their hands — but judging by the cluster of orange balls around Baekhyun’s feet, you had an inkling that victory would not be his. He didn’t seem to mind yet, laughing gleefully as Jongin swung his racquet too hard and launched a ball over the fence. 

“Not everyone is as good as you when it comes to talking about their feelings, you know,” you said, fixing Chanyeol with a knowing look that was halfway between admiration and resentment. If you only had his courage of expression, perhaps you would’ve put an end to your suffering a while ago. Ripped the band-aid off cleanly instead of peeling away at it, day by day, bit by bit, until it was hanging on by the last of its adhesive. You weren’t sure how much longer your resolve could last, if it would even survive this weekend without snapping under the force of your attraction.

He only shrugged. “You can’t get good without actually doing it.” You pondered his words in the short silence that settled while you both took another sip. He was right, of course, you knew that, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier.

“I think… I’m just scared,” you began slowly. Realising you were about to put his advice into action, Chanyeol turned to you with reassuring and patient eyes, waiting. You took a deep breath, swinging the contents of your bottle back and forth, and continued, “I’m scared that if I do tell him, it’s going to change our relationship and then I’ll lose him completely. At least if I don’t say anything, he’s still my friend, and I get to keep being in his life.”

He regarded you for a moment, brows furrowed thoughtfully, as he decided on his next words. It was no easy feat to try on honesty the way you just did, having so carefully avoided it for your entire life, and he was well aware of it. The slight tremble in your hands was a dead giveaway.

“And I think that’s completely understandable,” he finally said. “There’s always going to be a trade-off, no matter what you choose to do. But I guess you have to weigh up which one means more to you, and if you’re willing to take that risk on the chance that it does work out between you two. I’m only telling you what I think you should do. You’re the one who knows your own feelings the best.”

Another silence fell over the two of you again. Your bottle was nearly empty now, the beer inside already lukewarm from being out of the cooler for too long. Jongin let out a cheer as the ball sailed over his head, landing far behind him on the grass and ignoring Baekhyun’s flagrant attempts at contesting the point. Even under the patio lights, he was still so pretty, cheeks pink and glowy, the shape of his mouth so endearing as it settled into a pout. By now, you were used to the longing, and paid it no mind as it filled your chest with a bittersweet warmth.

“Aren’t you two best friends though?” you asked, the thought suddenly occurring to you. “You’re telling me you don’t know anything about how he feels about… whatever is going on?” The look you gave Chanyeol was suspicious, but he stood strong, resisting your prying eyes.

“I wouldn’t be much of a best friend if I went around blabbing to you about his feelings, would I?” was his response, accompanied by an elusive smile. There was something in his words that lingered in your mind, some important detail you felt as if you had overlooked, but his amused expression gave you nothing to hold onto. “You’re both so clueless,” he chuckled after a beat of your thoughtful silence, downing the rest of his drink.

Baekhyun was skipping over now, having officially lost 18-21 to Jongin, who was heartily celebrating his victory with a series of hoots and giggles. He headed straight for you, hair all messed up from running his hands through it during the game, and a rosy flush to his face, though you weren’t sure if that was from the game or the glass that he had left at the ping pong table. When he wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your shoulder, you knew that it was probably the latter.

“I lost the game,” he whined, petulant and firm against you. His hair tickled your chin, and you could smell the faint scent of his shampoo from his shower after the beach.

“Are you drunk already?” you asked, trying to mask your breathlessness at his proximity with a few giggles. Baekhyun’s affinity for physical contact was the worst — or best, depending on how you looked at it — when he had alcohol in his system, and it didn’t take much to push him past the borders of sobriety. His ache for touch and affection was most often relieved on you, and you always obliged, gladly and readily letting him take whatever it was he wanted.

The tip of his nose brushed back and forth against your skin as he shook his head. “Just a little, tiny bit,” he said, voice muffled, and you felt the warmth of his breath through your t-shirt.

“Where’s the love for your best friend?” Chanyeol teased, the only one amused at the way Baekhyun had dived straight into your arms without even sparing him a glance. 

The boy in your arms didn’t even falter, only snuggling further into you. “You know it’s because she’s my favourite,” he murmured, lips skimming your collarbone ever so softly as he spoke. The panic onset was instantaneous, and you prayed he was too drunk to pick up on the sudden rapid thundering of your heartbeat inside your chest. You tried to look at Chanyeol for help, but he was setting off across the patio, taking up Jongin on his invitation for a match with the promise that he would wipe the floor with the younger boy.

Baekhyun only hummed contentedly, oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking inside you, tightening his hold around you when you made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle out of his arms. His pink lips set into another rounded pout, brows slightly creased as he pulled back to look at you.

“You know you’re my favourite, right?” he asked, trying to be convincing despite the slight slur to his words. You could only nod, letting a small smile twist the corners of your mouth upwards. Whether he realised or meant what he was saying, you weren’t all that concerned, simply happy to bask in the warmth of his full attention knowing it was probably just nonsensical babble brought on by the drink in his belly. It was so much easier to be close to him when he was like this, hazier, and sure to forget most of what he had said the morning afterwards. It didn’t hurt that you were also starting to feel a little blurrier around the edges, the beer from earlier making its way through your system and leaving behind a pleasant fuzziness that made it all the more tempting to come clean about your feelings. But you weren’t quite there yet, and you had no plans to get to that point tonight.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he curled back up into you. With your hands around his back, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfortingly even beat of it through his rib cage. It was so easy to imagine this was the way it had always been, and would always be, so easy to slip into the fairytale you often found yourself fabricating when your one-sided longing became too much to contain. It would be so nice if you could live in this moment forever, you thought. But was this small pocket of peace worth risking your entire friendship?

“I wish you’d stop running away from me,” he murmured, or at least that’s what you thought he said. It was a little difficult to concentrate when his lips were grazing your skin again, lightly feathering across your neck as the words shaped his mouth on their way out of it. 

And then you felt it, the unmistakable and deliberate press of his lips against your collarbone, the gentle pressure and the slight moisture on your skin from it searing through you like a lit trail of gasoline. This time, he had to have heard the stilted gasp that escaped your mouth.

He lifted his head slowly to look at you again, searching your face with glassy eyes — for what, you weren’t quite sure. The only things you were sure of right now were the fiery burn in your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your heart that echoed between your ears. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, though his expression was nowhere near as apologetic as his words would have you believe. If anything, his gaze on you was almost daring, waiting to see how you’d respond, if you’d shrink back into yourself like you always did when he got too close and crossed that invisible boundary you only danced around. If you’d run away from him the way he had just said he wished you wouldn’t. Or if you’d let him push you over too, just this once.

Seeing the hesitation in your face, he slowly extricated from you, retracting his limbs and warmth until they hung limply by his sides again. Scratched the back of his head. Let his eyes wander around the patio and settle on anything except for you. 

“I’m going to see if Kyungsoo needs any help with cleaning up,” he said quietly, not waiting for your response as he headed back into the house. The drink had made his gait unsteady, and you felt him sway against the doorframe as he brushed past you. A chilling unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you watched him go, the shape of his back getting smaller and smaller as he was swallowed by the light of the living room. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, and that there was a possibility it had not been in the direction you had hoped for.

Perhaps the second glass of wine had been a little overambitious, you realised, staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedroom. Kyungsoo had been so excited about the 2012 Shiraz he had brought from home, pouring you a full glass with an enthusiasm he didn’t often display. You couldn’t say no, and you didn’t protest when he refilled it a short while later. If he noticed the faster-than-usual speed with which you drained its contents, he did not show it. Whilst alcohol tended to put people to sleep, it had the opposite effect on you, dangling sleep in front of you like a carrot you could never get a hold of easily, or for long. That second glass of wine was the reason you were lying in bed, not soundly asleep like you wished, but keenly aware of every breath and every movement from the other occupant of the room, only an arm’s length away from you.

Baekhyun had spent most of the night with Chanyeol out on the patio, drinking and laughing under the generous light of the moon. Even if he wasn’t purposely avoiding you, you felt his absence from your side sorely. He didn’t say much during the wind down for bed either, only asking if you wanted the curtains fully shut, to which you gave an affirmative. Still, a sliver of moonlight speared through the gap between them, illuminating the room just enough that if you turned your head to the side, you could make out the outline of his body beneath the covers and acquaint yourself with the familiar curve of his nose.

It was only fair that the wine, having taken your sleep, offered something in return to mark an honourable trade. That something manifested itself in the restlessness of your mouth, which battled against the remaining rationality of your mind. Loose-lipped and anxious, you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, willing the war inside your head to approach a ceasefire. You did not want to make a fool of yourself in the intimacy of this small room. 

However, your resolve could not last for long, corroded by the hours spent without his presence, without the familiar warmth of his touch, without his little comments meant only for you as he pointed out something silly or poked fun at Jongin’s whining. Barely above a whisper, you called out his name, letting your voice permeate the darkness. It was loud enough that he’d hear it above the silence, but soft enough that he could ignore it if he so wished, and you’d attribute his ignorance to the deepness of sleep.

There was a second of silence, which he followed with an answering hum and a shuffle of his legs on the mattress. He was awake, and he was waiting for you to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked the ceiling. 

“No, I’m not mad at you,” was his reply, accompanied by a quiet sigh. He was conversing with the ceiling too, just as reluctant to face you.

Your hands twisted the sheets in dissatisfaction. The even tone of his voice indicated truth, but his answer didn’t explain why he had spent the whole night outside without calling for you even once, when he usually couldn’t last half an hour without pressing into your side and tickling your shoulder to grab your attention. 

“Then what?” you probed, cringing at the whiny edge to your voice. 

He was quiet for a while, letting your words hang in the air, that for a moment you thought he wouldn’t speak, that your brief conversation had already come to an end, and you’d be left with unanswered questions as bedside companions for the night. There was another rustling from his side of the room as he settled himself under the covers.

“Sometimes, I think I want too much from you,” he finally said. He was quiet, but you heard every word with the clarity as if they had been projected through a stereo system. “And you can’t give me everything I want, but that’s not your fault. It’s an indication of my own greed and selfishness more than anything else.”

You kicked around at your sheets to signal your unrest at his words. “I don’t think you are greedy or selfish. At all. At least not with me.” If anything, you were the selfish one, wanting all his smiles and touches for yourself, wanting the entire spectrum of his existence to only ever be shown to you. Your generosity only ever came to light when it was in service of him, gladly letting him take your attention, your time, allocating space in your mind for him and him only. 

Baekhyun only laughed a soft and short laugh at your reply, the sound so different from the usual one filled with boisterous joy that you had grown the most used to. You heard him turn over in his bed to face you. In the quiet darkness of the room, the focus of his gaze flooded over you, and the intensity of it was so blinding you didn’t dare to look away from the smoothness of the ceiling, fearing you’d smoulder into ash the moment you locked eyes with him.

“You know that you are a really important person to me. You know that, right?” he asked, eyes searing into you with the force of a thousand suns. “I mean, everyone else is also important because they’re my friends, but you’re different — you are a special person to me. I don’t see you the way I see Chanyeol, or Jongin, or anyone else.” 

His words were still tinged with the slight slur of the beer from out on the patio, but you could feel the delicate care with which they were chosen and spoken. Something was different about tonight. You could taste it in the thick air between the two of you, feel it in the wire-taut tension stretching across the gap between your two twin beds. Your fingers dug into the comforter, willing the turbulence in your chest to subside.

He paused and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself against something devastating. “I don’t want the same things with them as I do with you.”

You held your breath until you felt the pain of deprivation in your chest.

“But I’ve made peace with the fact that what I want from you, and the way I feel about you, are things I’ll have to carry with me. They’re things I have to bear the weight of alone. I don’t — I would never want you to be uncomfortable, or see me differently.” There was a slight catch in his voice at the end.

You didn’t even know if your lungs were still working while you listened to him speak. There was a surrealness to the night, as if everything had been covered in a blanket of haze and everything that was transpiring was the product of a fever-induced dream, existing on an alternate timeline.

Baekhyun… it didn’t even feel right thinking it.

Baekhyun had feelings for you? And he had convinced himself it was one-sided?

“It’s pretty selfish, isn’t it? Asking you to act like things between us won’t change after everything I just said,” he laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. You finally turned your head to look at him, the wry curve of his mouth catching the moonlight as he gazed at you. He was smiling, the shape of it meant to comfort you, but he could not hide the sadness weaved into the downturn of his eyes. He had always been braver than you, perhaps not in the aspect of riding roller-coasters, but certainly in his ability to be honest and open about his emotions, regardless of whether they were good or bad. 

It was your turn to be brave now, and shed your own fear to meet him where he stood.

“I’ve been seeing you differently for a while now,” you admitted, turning under the sheets to fully face him. You were grateful for the darkness, hoping that it would conceal the heat creeping up your neck and face, painting your cheeks with a hot blush that accompanied the start of your confession. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, confusion settling in the crease between them. You held yourself back from reaching out to smooth them over.

“What do you mean?”

“What makes you think you’re the only one who feels this way?” you asked instead, leaving his question unanswered. There was a tremble in your voice as you spoke, and you were sure he heard it above the quiet of your bedroom. It was the closest you could get to telling him without actually telling him about the silent battle that had been raging in your head for the last few months. 

This was it, you thought. He had to know now.

“Am I not?”

The weight of his stare pressed against you, drawing you to him with the tangible pull of gravity. The eyes that roamed your face had replaced their previous confusion with questioning, and a glimmer of something akin to hope. He had never looked more beautiful and devastating than he did right now. You felt the light of dawn breaking over your skin, a promise of something new and good sure to follow. Its warmth simmered within you, staving off the chill of the late summer night with a heat that had you pushing off your covers in a hurried frenzy and rising to sit on the edge of your bed, toes just grazing the floorboards beneath you. Would you still have had the same nerve to face him in the daylight, rough and exposed without the lulling comfort of darkness? Would he still look at you, unpolished and flawed in the clarity of the sun, the same way, with the reverence of man at the sight of an angel? 

Baekhyun mirrored you and sat up on his own bed, slowly, as if not wanting to spook you, fearing you’d run off and retreat back into the confined familiarity of your own head. His knees knocked against yours in the small space between your two mattresses. You jolted at the feeling of his skin on yours, having gone without it for so long that the mere touch was like the first drop of water after emerging from the desert. He made to move away, trying to shuffle across the length of the bed, but stilled at the hand you placed just over his knee, willing him to stay put. Surely, he could feel the beat of your heart thrumming through your fingertips.

It was your turn to be brave now.

Fueled by the second glass of Shiraz and the muted encouragement of darkness, before you could second guess yourself and overthink every possible negative outcome of what you were about to do, you closed your eyes and leant towards him. Slowly, inch by inch, until your journey ended with the soft, tentative press of your lips against his. It was short and chaste, nothing more than a gentle pressure, and you pulled back when you felt his lips part in surprise.

“Does that answer your question?” you whispered, heart in your throat. 

There it was. You had gone and done it. 

His eyes were closed, and in the dim moonlight peeking through the curtain, you could almost make out each of his eyelashes, fluttering dark and soft against the smooth skin of his cheek. For a few seconds, the room was filled only with the sounds of your breathing as you waited for his reaction, for the consequences of your actions and what that meant for your friendship with him. 

Then you heard it — his soft laugh, coloured with appreciative disbelief, and felt the air of it caress your face. The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a small, pleased smile. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking you in with a hunger that had desire curling in the pit of your stomach.

“You are just so…” he began, but you never found out just exactly what you were. He was already pulling you back into him, slotting his mouth against yours like they were always made to fit perfectly together. This time, the kiss was anything but chaste, the sheer force of it enough to scorch your insides down to your bones. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush towards him, and your knees parted around his thighs to adjust to the new position. Your own hands found purchase in the softness of the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, in fear that the realisation of this moment would somehow make it slip away.

This was what it felt like to stand unafraid and bare in the light of unbridled wanting, to consume and be consumed by a ravenous appetite with no propensity for satiety. When his hands slipped past the hem of your sleep tank, fingertips grazing across the skin of your lower back, you were sure you could erupt into flames. He swallowed the breathy noise that escaped your lips, tongue brushing against yours as he claimed your mouth with his own. 

This was what it felt like to hold the sun in the palm of your hand.

When you broke apart to catch your breaths, his eyes were bright, lips plump and swollen, chest heaving beneath your hands. Somehow, you had ended up back on his bed, his head against the pillows, hands under your shirt and keeping you close to him with an unforgiving hold. He was gazing up at you with a devotion that made your heart swell even more than it did pulling oxygen back into your lungs.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he admitted, hiding his head into the crook of your shoulder. You felt his abashed smile against your skin and wondered how it could be possible that you had contained all of this, the longing, the yearning, inside you for so long.

“How long?” you asked, hearing the smile in your own voice.

“Since Chanyeol’s birthday, when you wore that brown sweater with the little bow on the back.”

Last year, Chanyeol had gotten everyone together at his place for a nice dinner and wine followed by a binge watch of all the Iron Man movies in one sitting. It was all going according to plan until a quarter of the way into the third one, when he began snoring at his own birthday gathering. The bowl of popcorn was sliding out of his hands and sure to make a buttery mess all over the rug, and that’s when the rest of you decided to turn the television off and call it a night. Sehun and Jongin tasked themselves with getting the birthday boy into bed, and likely collapsed onto it with him immediately after, while Baekhyun had offered you the couch, assuring you he’d be fine with the blankets on the floor. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. As chaotic as he could be, Baekhyun was nothing if not kind, and you had been grateful that his kindness had always extended to you over the three years you had known each other.

“But that was more than half a year ago. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

His fingers prodded into your sides, eliciting a few choked giggles from you. “I didn’t know how you’d react. You know you’re not the most expressive person on the planet,” he said dryly. “Or the most observant. I literally frenched your collarbone and you’re telling me you didn’t realise I liked you more than as a friend?”

“Okay, well when you put it like that,” you huffed, feeling the vibrations of his laugh through his chest. “But you really didn’t know I had feelings for you? Chanyeol never said anything?”

His movements stilled, leaning back into the pillows so he could lock eyes with you again. “You talk to Chanyeol about me?” he asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. “Since when?”

“Last month, Jongdae’s housewarming. He fished it out of me after dinner,” you sighed, picturing his smug grin under the lights of Jongdae’s fancy new kitchen when you realised that you had slipped up and let him in on your little secret. 

“But I talk to him about you.”

You looked at each other for another beat, realisation breaking over the both of you, before dissolving into another fit of disbelieving giggles. Maybe Park Chanyeol did know how to keep his mouth shut after all.

“So he’s a terrible wingman, is what I’m getting out of this whole thing,” Baekhyun chuckled, rolling you over so you were now lying on your side, face to face with him. He planted a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, taking his time to acquaint himself with the shape and taste of your mouth, and you felt the contentment of his smile against you. “I can’t believe we could have gotten together a month ago. Some best friend he is.”

“Gotten together?” you echoed, one eyebrow raised in feigned dispute, delighting in the way his sweet mouth settled into the pout that you adored.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t want to be with me after your tongue was all up in my mouth?”

You pushed his face away, groaning, “Gross, don’t say it like that.” He, however, had different plans, hooking a calf behind your knees and tugging you back into him, before weaving the other leg in between your own.

“You know you like it,” he murmured into your neck, squeezing his arms around you just in case you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. One hand traced absent-minded circles over the grooves of your spine as he breathed you in, warm and familiar against your chest. 

Yes, you thought, you’d risk any and everything for this exact moment. It was worth all the doubt and heartache, all the time spent replaying those moments in your head, unsure of the meaning behind his actions. You could be sure of it now.

“I do,” you agreed, threading your fingers through the softness of his hair. “I probably more than like you,” you added, tilting his face upwards to steal another kiss, giddy and chest swelling with affection. Perhaps you weren’t quite yet ready for that other four letter word, but you had no doubt you would be one day, and soon. He was all too willing to comply, letting his mouth mould against yours with the poise and patience of a saint. 

“I probably more than like you too,” he replied, punctuating his confession with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. It was enough for the serene smile on your face to persist, even past the arrival of sleep.

“I knew it.”

You cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to the light flooding in through the open door to your room. Chanyeol stood at the foot of your bed, grinning from ear to ear with what could only be described as a look of triumph as he took in the scene before him. The boy next to you stirred lightly, digging his face deeper into the pillow, reluctant to leave the realm of the sleeping. Chanyeol was not in the least sympathetic to his friend’s struggles, striding over to the window and pulling back the curtains with a clang. You winced as the full force of the morning sun barged in, and Baekhyun let out a soft noise of displeasure at the intrusion.

“I fucking knew it,” Chanyeol said again, quickly bringing you to your senses as you registered the weight of another body on top of your own. You made to remove yourself from him, fighting the flush creeping up your neck and face, but it was an effort which proved futile as he only tightened the arm around your waist, loath to let you go. 

“Can you be quiet? You’re going to wake the whole house,” you hushed, finally succeeding in untangling your legs from Baekhyun’s, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.

“They’re already up. I came to call you for breakfast,” Chanyeol replied, the grin seemingly stuck to his face. “Which actually reminds me,” he began, before sticking his head out of the doorway to holler, “You better pay up, Jongin. And you too, Kyungsoo!”

“You bet on us?” came the groggy voice from the pillows behind you.

“What the hell, Chanyeol? I thought you said you didn’t go around blabbing about his feelings!” you exclaimed, indignant.

“To you. I never said anything about telling anyone else,” was his reply, smug and victorious at having outsmarted you.

Kyungsoo appeared in the doorway, donning a flour-covered apron, as if to confirm for himself that he was in fact a debtor to the taller boy. “Even if he didn’t say anything, it wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” he said lightly, surveying the room with curiosity and paying no mind to the shock painted on your face. How had everybody known about your now not-so-secret crush on Baekhyun except for the man himself? “Anyways, I only said that it would be unlikely to happen over this weekend, not that it was impossible. So Jongin is the only loser. Now come for pancakes.” And with that, he headed back towards his bowl of batter on the kitchen counter, chuckling at the sound of Jongin’s complaints against fulfilling his end of the wager.

Baekhyun, having somewhat freed himself from the clutches of sleep, rose to a sitting position and shot a drowsy scowl at his friend. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?”

But even the expletive could not put a damper on Chanyeol’s mood, his smile never slipping. “You two should honestly be thanking me,” he said, to which you also shot him a glare. “Also, I’m happy for you and everything, but can you please keep the PDA to a minimum in front of the rest of us? I will lock you out of the house if you don’t.”

Baekhyun turned to you, the creases of the frown on his face slowly but surely smoothing out as he took you in, cheeks puffy and hair a mess from having just woken up. He had seen you in worse states, and definitely in better states, but none of that seemed to matter as he regarded you with nothing but fondness in his eyes. You were sure that your expression mirrored his, affection spreading throughout your entire body, reaching even the tips of your fingers and toes, at the sight of his tousled bed head, the sleepy droop of his eyes, the sweet pinkness of his lips. 

The sun was yours. There was no feasible way to stop the smile from blooming across your entire face.

“No promises.”

[rk1kheadcanons]

I really like oblivious Connor who’s not actually oblivious just really bad at flirting headcannons

I too enjoy an Oblivious!Connor Anon and I love to see you taking this to another level. Connor isn’t just oblivious, he is CyberLife’s Fortune 500 Top 20 on WatchMojo best of the best of the best sir prototype he is oblivious in a multifaceted way thank you very much.

Of course Markus is aware of his trash flirting abilities now but in the first stages of their relationship he was definitely confused.

Not all of the blame is to be laid at Connor’s feet though. He’s just a very research oriented kind of guy. How to clean the grout between your pool tiles? He’ll look it up. Best places to go camping? He’ll look it up. How to politely decline a Bagel Tasting Party in Russian? He’ll look it up. So when Connor looked up How to flirt, the top results shown in 2039 were a bunch of Pick Up Artists podcasts and Top 10 articles about How to Get the Booty that mostly consisted of stolen memes and stock photos.

So his source material already wasn’t great, but his interpretation and execution of the “advice” made it even more….well. It wasn’t NOT great, but it sure as fuck wasn’t flirting. ‘Cuz you know our boi will always manage to take nonsense and kick it up a notch.

“It’s a part of his charm.” - Markus Manfred, 2039.

Trying to tell impressive stories was always a bust because Connor would get bored of himself halfway through it and accidentally start amping up the people around him.

“...so me and the suspect woke up in California tied to the roof of a semi truck going down highway 80 - but anyway we booked the guy and you would not believe all the evidence Chris filed! Six years worth all compiled in alphabetical order it was a thing of beauty - ”

Markus - previously enraptured by this daring tale - does a double take, the speed of the subject change almost giving him whiplash. “Waitwaitwait what? WHAT? What happened with the tied to a truck thing!?”

“Ohhh you can guess pretty easily what happened there - ”

“I??? canNOT???”

“ - but Chris? A true superhero. Hours of overtime he spent on this case! Hours!”

Connor also wasn’t too bad at dishing out compliments unthinkingly. But whenever he tried purposefully it was something like a hit or a miss. But replace the word “hit” with a “why are you like this??”

Once, while they were passing each other down the halls of New Jericho, Connor began with a normal greeting and ended with a not normal: “I read your diagnostic report and your specs are looking,” he holds out his hands in finger guns and winks, “optimal.”

Markus blinks at him as he slows down, the jovial tone combined with the cryptic words causing his brain to screech to a halt. “O...kay?”

Sensing that his well practiced compliment isn’t being taken as well as he thought, Connor decides to throw out the big guns. He activates Sensual_Suite_Ver.3.1.2 and slides down the wall (a little less like a debonair man of mystery like he imagined and more like a wet sponge). “I...also noticed that your clothes are…” he whipped out a rose from his pocket and put it in his mouth, winking again, “matching today.”

“....Thank you?” Markus finally settles on saying, but internally he is questioning if his outfits were not as on point as he thought and no one said anything to spare his feelings.

But about 72 more attempts at “flirting” later Connor finally just comes out and says; “Hello yes your brain and soul are very pretty will you go out with me please?”

And Markus is like; “Oh? Ohhhhhhhh! That’s what you’ve been trying to - ??? Yes you lunatic, Jesus Christ you should have led with that.”

“😃 Duly noted.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Bella and Beauford (your version of Beau) are twins, similar features (brown eyes), similar chip on their shoulder, similar flowery language, and Ed can't read either of their minds and both smell like grade A beefcakes. Both move to Forks. What kind of mess do you think will go down? 030 Does Eddie boi get the harem he's never wanted? How much can we destroy the B&B team self esteem? Find out on today's episode of the What if Muffin chronicles~! - Sw

Beauford is a reoccurring guest star on this blog.

Think Bella directly plastered onto a boy: absurdly pretty, still clumsy, still terribly introverted and awful socially, and smells like heroin to one Edward Cullen.

With that, onto your question

The Rules

To set some ground rules that are set in the post, I'm presuming both, somehow, are Edward's singer. Now, given that it's Bella and Beauford (fraternal twins), I'd say this is highly unlikely. Singers are rare, and Charlie and Renee don't notably smell like high quality heroin to Edward. More likely, Bella would be the singer, and Beauford would just smell generally nice (but not murder all of Biology nice).

It's also unlikely they'd have the same exact gift, or a gift that expresses itself in the same manner, blocking Edward out of their minds.

But the rules are set, both are Edward's singer, and both have Bella's absurdly powerful gift.

They're for all intents and purposes the same fucking person that somehow got stuffed in two different gendered bodies. The real genesis of this AU: Renee was abducted by aliens while pregnant and her unborn child experimented on. Beauford is, in fact, Bella's identical twin. Beauford is actually Bella's male clone grown in the womb.

After Bella and Beauford reach sexual maturity they'll be beamed back up into space and put into a zoo on Traflamador. (Except not because that would derail this post... The test pilot on Traflamador blew up their planet before Bella and Beauford could phone home. It's not important.)

Bella, Beauford, and the Time Before Forks

Bella and Beauford are probably frightfully codependent for a few reasons that go by the name of Renee. Renee's still out to lunch parenting, and it falls to Bella and Beauford to take care of adult responsibilities from a very young age.

Bella and Beauford come home from school to an empty house, are the ones to go grocery shopping, pay the bills, pay the taxes, do the laundry, pretty much anything that has "adult responsibility" stamped on it.

As a result, they don't really have time to make friends with kids out of school, and they quickly realize that they're the only ones they can depend on in their lives. More, they're the only ones who get each other on any level.

They're both social outcasts, both not what their mother wanted, both have to deal with their mother, and if they ever get in trouble then it's their sibling that they're going to call. Because no one else will ever be there.

I imagine both Bella and Beauford cling to each other tightly with both hands.

Which, of course, makes things weird.

There's getting along with your twin sibling then there's... only getting along with your twin sibling.

Bella and Beauford have lunch together, by themselves, every day in Phoenix. They partner together on everything and are very displeased if they're forced into a group project with anyone else. They participate in all the same activities and if one isn't allowed to do it then the other quits (yes, Beauford tried to get into ballet class, when Renee put her foot down Bella quit right then and there). They wear each other's clothes, if they can't, then those clothes never get worn (Bella never wears the few dresses in her closet). They actually remember their made up secret twin language and lapse into it accidentally from time to time. They're anxious when they're not in the same classes and meet up after every single class to walk down the hallways together. Rather than have any friends, most of their free time is spent at home reading the same books in the same room. They don't even talk about how amazing Heathcliff is, because they know the other knows.

I imagine they channel such the twins from The Shining. Absurdly good looking, beautiful, kids but good god what is wrong with them?

The Decision to Move

When Phil enters the picture seriously, he's not just a new boyfriend, Bella and Beauford sit down to discuss their options. Neither is quite sure how they feel about Phil.

He's awfully young, but he seems to be good for Renee, and is actually capable of paying his taxes (unlike Renee). He can probably be depended upon not to run off and to make sure Renee is taken care of.

However what about Bella and Beau?

With Bella and Beau going to school, they can't travel across the country every few weeks following Phil. Now, in theory, Renee could abandon them to follow Phil. This wouldn't make much of a difference in their daily lives (might, in fact, make things easier in a way as then Beau/Bella can just handle all the cooking rather than Renee even attempting to). However, Renee would never want to admit she's been leaving her kids to their own devices for years, and would feel horribly guilty to leave them behind.

As it is, they've already told Renee she can go on and travel with Phil and she refused, stating she had to be there for her kids.

There's also that Phil keeps trying to bond with Beau especially. As if he thinks it will be easier to bond with the teenage stepson vs. the stepdaughter. That hasn't been going well, Beau would like to avoid that if at all possible.

On the other hand... Forks, wet, cold, and being the children of the police chief's runaway bride.

Ultimately, the pair come to the same decision Bella came to in canon. They want their mother to be happy, feel desperately like third wheels, and if making Renee happy necessitates going to Forks then to Forks they shall go.

At least they'll have each other, and in the end, that's all that really matters.

Arriving in Forks

Bella and Beau arrive in Forks and receive the same reception they would otherwise. But more so. Holy god, the high school population says, it's the Cullens 2.0.

Eerily pale, beautiful, siblings, who are both sensitive intellectuals (and are also weirdly incestuous acting). All the guys want to date Bella and all the girls want to date Beau (some vice versa but they're not admitting that in a public high school in 2005).

The guys (Mike, Tylor, Eric, etc.) aren't all that thrilled by Beau's presence, he's major competition and day one is attracting all the attention. However, they see him as a way to get an in with Bella, he can set them up on a date and put in a good word. If they become his best friend, they have an excuse to go to his house, where Bella will be.

The girls (even Lauren who was initially very pissed off about Bella's sudden popularity) are much the same. Bella's overrated, but good god, that beautiful brother of hers. If they become Bella's best friend, they can have sleep overs, and might be able to see Beau without a shirt on. No matter Bella's stuffy personality, that hot brother is worth it.

Lunch that first day, as a result, is even more awful than it was in canon. Bella and Beauford, while generally oblivious about themselves, are very observant when it becomes to the behavior of others regarding their sibling.

They have an emergency meeting in the truck after school and come to the same conclusion: Bella/Beau, this entire school of hicks wants in your pants. Dump them all.

Both Bella and Beauford end the day supremely annoyed but reconfirm their commitment to this Forks plan. Beau predicts than in six months they'll be losers again and they'll go back to having lunch by themselves.

But what about the Cullens?

Edward, The Cullens, and Biology

As in canon, both Beauford and Bella notice the entrance of the alien procession into the cafeteria and ask "what the fuck?"

Nobody's thrilled about answering, because no one wants to lose Bella/Beauford to the Cullens of all people (the girls sigh with relief as, at least for them, all the lady Cullens seem to be dating one of the other guys. Beau is safe. The possibility of Edward/Beau is one they dare not contemplate in those five seconds.)

Still, Jessica reluctantly gives the run down. These are the Cullens, they moved in two years ago, are absurdly wealthy, beautiful, and supposedly not actually related. They're all dating each other. No, seriously, they are. Except the hot ginger, Edward, but don't bother because he's an ass.

Both Bella and Beauford think Jessica doth protest too much about Edward and internally give the Cullens the same bisexual Bella ranking: Rosalie, Edward (after a bit of thought), and then the rest of them.

Edward, for his own part, notes that he can't seem to hear either's thoughts. Weird. He concludes that the pair are highly overrated and he can't believe the school's so agog over the pair of them. Stupid teenagers.

Then Biology happens.

The pair open the door and good god, Edward Cullen is a demon. Luckily for them, they have each other. There may be an open seat next to Edward Cullen but Bella and Beauford go "NOPE". You see, teacher, we always sit together. No, really, we ALWAYS sit together.

The teacher is weirded out but it's so weird he actually has nothing to say to that. There's only one immediately open seat anyway, and two new students, so they're clearly in trouble with seating arrangements anyway. So he says, "Um, sure, go sit with Angela I guess." Angela is now in an overcrowded table with both Bella and Beauford, her original partner gleefully goes to sit with hottie Edward (then is in dismay sitting with Edward because this guy looks terrifying today). The twins, throughout Biology, are staring down Edward Cullen.

Edward, of course, has smelled the scent of the gods and is going through his personal hell on earth. He devises his many schemes of how he's going to murder Biology before he can get to the pair of them (Angela, for the record, gets smashed into a wall for the honor of being in Edward's way). Then, he doesn't know which he'd start on, he can't tell which scent comes from which. He tells himself he'll toss a coin, heads the boy goes first, then tails the girl.

Still, thinking of Carlisle's sad, disapproving, face as Edward massacres a room filled with children allows Edward to hold on through Biology. He'll murder them after school. Then of course he's able to clear his head and flees to Alaska.

In the meantime, thanks to being hyperaware of their sibling, and now having someone to talk to and confirm their suspicions with: Edward Cullen is Ted Bundy. This guy is creepy, dangerous, and in that moment it looked as if he was going to kill one or both of them. Bella/Beauford would be alright, though disappointed, if they were murdered then left in a dumpster. But their sibling die and meet that same awful fate? Not ever allowed to happen.

Bella and Beau have the world's most tense drive home and tense night taking turns taking guard and sleeping in the same room. Every time one questions if they're, maybe, just maybe, a little paranoid about this, the other confirms that "NOPE, THAT DUDE WAS SCARY".

They can't tell Charlie, he wouldn't believe them and they have no evidence, but when Edward tries to climb through their window maybe one of them will get in a good hit with the baseball bat (they won't, they're both debilitatingly clumsy).

The next day, to their confusion and relief, Edward Cullen isn't at school. He's not there the day after that either, or the day after that...

Beau and Bella start to relax, if only a little bit.

Edward, Alaska, and the Prodigal Son Returns

Edward in Alaska calms down and goes through the same thought process he did in canon. He keeps picturing the twins' faces, his obsession beginning to blossom, and convinces himself that he can't let these unremarkable humans get in the way of his life and his family.

After a week of brooding, much to Carlisle's horror, Edward returns to Forks and goes straight back to school. Specifically, he wants to do damage control with the twins and see just how much they actually noticed.

This goes worse than in canon.

First, Edward has to approach their shared table with Angela like a loser. There, Bella and Beau clearly don't want to talk at him, at all, and both clearly vividly remember exactly what happened last Biology class.

Edward barely gets a word in before he has to go to his seat. When he notices Bella, Beau, and Angela get their lab done as quickly as him (thanks to Bella and Beau), he tries again.

Bella and Beau both ask to go to the bathroom. (Yes, teacher, at the same time. Don't question this.) They don't come back. Edward, after ten minutes, also goes to the bathroom. He finds the pair in their giant, red, truck in the parking lot, deep in conversation (trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Edward Cullen).

He approaches them again, being as charming as possible. This has the opposite effect. Directed towards only them, Beau/Bella would probably let this slide. Directed towards Beloved Sibling, their "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON" sirens are blaring in their head. Beau floors it, and the pair tear out of the parking lot as fast as the truck will take them, they're telling Charlie they're taking a sick day. What will they do next Biology class? FUCK IF THEY KNOW.

Edward, standing in the parking lot with his mouth open, feels very very embarrassed and ashamed. He is a man eating demon and these two are perfectly aware of it. The rest of the Cullens find him there not long after, they find this both sad and hilarious.

Bella and Beau Get Hit by a Van

Well, this would all be well and good. Edward tells himself that if the pair are so determined to avoid him then he'll just avoid them. Problem solved. More, the pair don't seem to be chatterboxes, there's no weird rumors spreading about Edward Cullen or his siblings. At least, no more than usual.

Instead, it seems that everyone's trying to ask the twins to the dance, and are very confused when the twins say that they're going with each other. Sibling policy. You see. (They don't see, nobody sees, this is weird.)

Then it happens. Bella nearly gets hit by a van, Edward saves her, with Beau as a full not-concussed witness. FUCK. Bella and Beau travel to the hospital, Edward driving along behind them, and then after Carlisle checks Bella out they have their awkward talk.

Bella wants to insist that Edward was clearly the one who saved her, with his strange superhuman strength, but thanks to twin telepathy (which either is actual telepathy or is just reading twin body language, who even knows) knows that Beau wants her to shut up. They say nothing, the truth isn't important.

Instead, Beau states that he was the one who pulled Bella out of the way, Bella's just confused. Edward stares at Beau like he's an alien. Beau just smiles, thanks Edward for his concern, then throws Edward out of the room.

Bella and Beau madly discuss that Edward's clearly not human. More, while he saved her life today and that was very noble of him, neither has truly forgotten how he was in that first day of Biology. More, did you see him now? He clearly wanted, desperately for Bella to not remember what happened. He crushed that van like a pretzel, what if they told him that they saw him? What would happen to them? Beau doesn't want to take chances, not even for the truth, and in retrospect Bella doesn't either. Now is not the time to look gifted horses in the mouth.

Given Bella's injured, Beau's on full guard duty that night.

Meanwhile, the Cullens have their vote. It's even more dramatic, because instead of just one innocent, injured, witness, there's two witnesses and one was completely uninjured. Carlisle is utterly appalled that Rosalie genuinely suggests murdering them both so she doesn't have to move. He's more appalled when Edward reveals that he believes the twins may believe that Edward... wishes them harm for having witnessed his heroics.

Because the irony being that the twins are right, the family is voting on this very issue right now. And what does that say about all of them?

Thankfully for Beau and Bella, the vote goes very similarly to canon. Jasper's not convinced until Alice has her vision.

And she drops the bomb. Edward's in love with Bella, Beau will be Edward's best friend and Bella Alice's, and both Bella and her brother will be turned and join the coven.

(Now, what Alice doesn't tell Edward is that, actually, Edward's in love with them both. It's safer to say that Edward's in love with the woman, as that's what Edward will far more readily accept. Throwing Beau into that mix would just make things very messy, if Alice wants her best friend and Edward's happy ending then she has to be smart about this.)

The family has a similar reaction. Carlisle gives his, "Well, alright then" and the family doesn't move. Edward, in despair and self-hatred, heads to the Swan house to see sleeping Bella for himself.

And lo and behold, Beau has been waiting for him. Beau tries to smash Edward's face in with a bat. Unfortunately, a) Edward's a vampire, b) Beau misses.

Beau and Edward end up talking, man to man, while Bella is sleeping. Edward decides that, yes, oh woe, he is in love with Beauford's sister and confesses as much (while also confessing that he might, you know, actually be dangerous). Beau suggests that Edward stay far away from his sister.

No, there's nothing Beau can do to stop Edward. Yes, he is just a pathetic human even more pathetic than most, but he promises that he will make Edward and his family's life hell on Earth if Edward ever thinks of assaulting his sister.

Edward protests he would never, Beau points out that Edward just climbed through his injured sister's window in the dead of night. Edward... tries and fails to explain away that one.

He actually does succeed in that he explains that Bella was in danger from... his siblings. Edward had come to protect Bella, to make sure none came to harm her. It's not necessarily his siblings' fault, it's complicated but... Well, Edward was trying to be somewhat noble.

Then something strange happens. Edward finds himself fascinated by this Beauford Swan. Such courage in the world's weakest, no most delicate, body. Look at those eyelashes, his big dark eyes, his perfectly shaped features. This boy is beautiful, as beautiful as his sister, and just as courageous as she is. And look at him now, nobly facing down a demon he knows he cannot win against for the sake of his sister.

How virtuous.

Edward tells himself that what he's feeling is kinship and admiration for Beauford Swan. Bella could not have a worthier brother. Edward leaves with the promise that he'll respect Beau's wishes (Beau doesn't believe that for a second).

The next morning, Beau tells Bella that Edward's the world's biggest creep and that the Twin Watch is not stopping anytime soon. They're going to need to make a big purchase of coffee.

Edward and His Torment

As in canon, Edward decides he should nobly stay out of Bella's life. He'll see if either twin really does talk (they don't) and then he'll ignore them until they disappear. They will forget him.

They don't, but they do discuss him. See, after much pondering, the twins realize that Edward truly is a Grade A hottie. More, he's so mysterious and inhuman. In retrospect, his saving Bella's life goes a long way, and for all that he's been... menacing, he's never truly threatened them and does seem intent on protecting Bella. More, he seems to be keeping his promise: he's staying out of Bella's life and he hasn't been back to the house since (he has, but they haven't caught him, Edward waits until they both crash until he can sneak in and stare at them both).

And he's never lied about being dangerous. Their glares soften into pondering glances, wondering just what the truth of this Edward Cullen and his family really is, and wonder what it'd be like to let him into their small, insular, world that no one before has ever managed to breach in the way he has.

Bella doesn't believe he's truly interested in her, despite Beau's insistence, and wonders if he's interested in Beau. Beau, for his own part, doesn't believe Edward's interested in him and insists that he's clearly very interested in Bella.

Reluctantly, the pair conclude that Edward is something likely very dangerous, against Edward's will, but benign. Whatever it was they sensed from Edward that first day, it was not something in his control.

Helping this is Edward enabling the mysterious mystery by breaking. He can't stay away from the twins. He tells them that he's tired of staying away from them, that they shouldn't be friends, that he doesn't want to be friends (but wants to be something hint, hint, wink, wink). Except he's convinced he and Beauford are friends, dual protectors of the angel Bella Swan. If he stares a little too much at Beau's perfect figure then that's because he's the perfect, male, version of his perfect sister.

Anyway, the twins go to Long Beach with the others and the twins are now just too curious. Edward's giving them nothing and they must know. Bella flirts with Jake for information, Beau is appalled that this works, and they hear the cold ones story. That night, they both have the prophetic Slayer dream: Edward is a vampire.

Bella tells Beauford that she knows three things. One is that she's in love with Edward. Beau's not sure how to take that for a second but, being Bella's twin and on the same weird wavelength, he gets it. He's in love with Edward too.

Neither finds it strange that they both confess to being in love with the same demon and that they see no conflict of interest in this.

The pair go to Port Angeles to help Jessica and Angela pick up dresses. (Angela and Jessica aren't sure why a man is coming, but they've learned not to question this twin thing). Bella and Beau ultimately decided not to go to the dance, too risky giving the deluge of invitations they received, and instead they'll be headed to Seattle that weekend. They claim this is not a date, Angela and Jessica just stare.

Due to Beau being with Bella, though the pair get hopelessly lost looking for the book store, Bella doesn't get followed by rapists. Edward shows up anyway, as Alice saw the possibility, and takes the pair of them to romantic Italian dinner. It's weird.

He then drives them home and Bella blurts it out. Edward's a vampire, she and Beau know. Edward has his miniature meltdown and realizes that these pair of siblings forgive him this. Beau, beautiful man that he is, is giving Edward his beloved sister and Bella is giving not only herself but her wonderful brother's hand in friendship.

Edward invites them both, that's right, them both, to the meadow. Neither thinks this is strange. And when they get there. Boom, it's over, any chance to question this is gone. Both Bella and Beau are seduced by Edward's sparkling chest and his quotes about lions.

He rests his head on Bella's chest but puts his right hand on Beau's. They sit like that. For hours.

The Cullens (Again)

Well, this went from weird to fucking weirder. It was weird enough when Edward became obsessed with this rando teenage girl. Now, it turns out that Edward's a horn dog panting after bisexual twins, clearly intending to romance them both at the same time.

Carlisle dearly tries to have an intervention. He sends Esme to do it, as in canon, this doesn't work (Esme is perfectly fine with Edward's twincest fetish and thinks it's wonderful).

Alice tells a dubious Jasper that Edward and Beau are just friends. Jasper doesn't believe her, but he's not sure what to even say.

Emmett is desperately holding in Edward sandwich jokes. Desperately.

When Beau and Bella are invited to the house (together of course), the entire family has no idea what to say to them. At all. They don't know how to process this. Rosalie is actually there this time, because somebody needs to warn these two about what Edward really wants, but then they're too weird.

It's all just too weird.

And... the rest of canon happens.

The baseball game occurs, James dies, Victoria's not sure which Swan she should target and so she targets them both anyway. They're in the same damn place so it makes 0 difference.

Bella and Beau joint hallucinate Hallucination Edward, somehow, and get even weirdly more codependent in their zombie fugue state. This tanks their popularity as now there's no denying the incest. Bella and Beau don't care.

Bella and Beau reach out to get Jake to build them the motorcycles. Jake doesn't necessarily want Beau around, the dude's weird and getting in the way of Bella time, but alright. Bella and Jake's friendship doesn't take off because Bella's codependent on Beau.

They do learn about the wolves though thanks to Jake's crush on Bella. Jake never realizes that he's coming in third place not only to Edward Cullen but to Beauford Swan. He thinks he has a chance. That poor boy.

Bella and Beau jump off the cliff together, convinced they weren't committing suicide.

Alice returns, gets Bella and Beau to go to Volterra, because Edward has to see that they're both alive. There's a joyful reunion, Aro is really weirded out by this whole damn thing and has a five second pause after touching Marcus' hand. "Well." he says afterwards, "You and your brother are close. I see."

They get to go home, Aro insists they turn. Eclipse happens. Edward proposes marriage to Bella. Neither Beau nor Bella are thrilled (mostly about the marriage and also about the question of how the twin enters this equation) but ultimately Bella accepts. Bella and Edward marry publicly.

Beau is invited for the honeymoon. Edward, Bella, nor Beau question this. Everyone else does. A lot. On Isle Esme, the three confirm their commitment to each other: they have a secret marriage. Edward and Beau are both convinced they're not in a relationship. Bella and Beau are convinced they're not incestuous.

Sex is had by... someone. Unclear who.

Bella gets pregnant, this seems to confirm Edward must be the father but... Bella and Beau are both very strange, almost alien, and very gifted. There is some red in their hair. Questions the Cullens dare not speak aloud are thought, Edward doesn't seem to notice.

TL;DR Basically, the books still happen but Edward is cuckolded and enables twincest.

...

I did not see this one coming guys. I swear. I did not.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it!   Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

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Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.  

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  


“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

 —————————————————

 Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.  

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

 ——  The Next Morning ——

 Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.  

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.  

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

 “Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

 The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ��m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[hollenka99]

BTS for the regicide AU? -River

Ask Game

@egopocalypse

Regicide is a bit too big for me to comment on as a whole because as of the 16th, the total for the transcripts of au related dms I’ve been maintaining stands at 738,123 words over 1796 pages. However, I thought I'd focus on the behind the scenes of I Beg of Thee Have Mercy On Me (I Was Just a Boy, You See) since that's a good way to look at the world of Regicide through a single fic.

For any followers who might not know, Regicide is a royalty au that Anon and I created back in January and have brainrotted about on daily basis ever since. There are 15 paths, grouped into the three categories of Fratricide, Patricide and L’Manburg (aka war). So when I say stuff like F1 or P3, I mean the first fratricide and third patricide paths etc. 

It goes without saying but this will contain spoilers for the fic. And because this is F1, there is a section about suicidal ideation and self harm but I’ve put a warning right before I talk about it and it’s only one paragraph.

It's mentioned at the start that Wilbur is the 7th son and 13th child. There will be 26 kids in total, 15 of them being boys. The reason for this is because, when I tried to create half brothers, I was a dumbass who asked Anon to pick a number between 1 and 20. If I was smart, I would have said 10 or at least made 'up to 20' for siblings, not just brothers. Either way, she said 15 thanks to having no context regarding her decision and then when I was filling up the list with sisters, 11 girls popped up unintentionally. Oh and also, Wilbur was originally Sextus (6th son) with Septimus born a week after him. However we decided we didn't want Wilbur to have the awkward name so the other brother's birthday became September 6th, making him Sextus instead. This did open the door for me to decide I wanted Wilbur to get close to Sextus since he knows he could have been teased instead if their birthdays were switched. Which then developed into them becoming close just because of proximity in age in general. He is my favourite of the half brothers and I am holding him gently. He and Wilbur are so close that Fundy’s middle name is Christopher after Sextus in most paths (it’s Wilbur in those where he’s dead before he can meet his son).

Anon and I tend to discuss non-canon versions of paths nearly as often as we do canon events. Kidbur's near death experience is no exception. A lot of talk is about a sweet 4 year old ghost who gets really upset because most of his family is ignoring him (aka literally can't see him). Also wholesome stuff like his grandfather looking after him once Wilbur moves on, then him meeting 17yo Tommy after Techno makes all their brothers join Wilbur. But in canon, we have it that he got sick while attending celebrations for the 1500th anniversary of the capital’s founding. As much as Phil is indifferent about his younger sons, he does rush back from attending celebrations elsewhere to provide moral support and keep an eye on their kids so Kristin can focus on tending to Wilbur. Once they’re in the clear, Phil takes Techno to see a play about Wilbur I, as a way of teaching him about the fratricide tradition.

I’m not sure why we decided to make 10 the age princes learn about fratricide. I honestly think it was just a nice round number, old enough for them to begin understanding the reality of their situation but young enough to not leave them oblivious for too long. Technoblade was told by Phil when he was 9 thanks to favouritism and of course, Techno himself revealed the truth to Wilbur when he was 7, right after Tommy’s birth. But Wilbur learning about the tradition then watching two brothers with whom he was close to die right in front of him marks the sort of era where his bitterness grows about being a Antarctic prince, a son of Phillip V at that. We never actually said in dms that the twins’ deaths happened the same day as Wilbur going into the crypts. Until June (when I finished the fic) those were just two events that happened when Wilbur was 10. But while writing, I felt they’d work really well side by side and in close succession. So when I showed Anon the finished draft, they wanted my head for making it worse by having it be the same day.

Also, speaking of Billy and Ben, I have to admit their names came from us memeing. We were discussing the idea of fathers naming eldest sons and mothers naming the younger boys, with the reverse being true for daughters. Given that Phil distances himself from his sons, I made a joke that he’d pick a dumb name for his 3rd and 4th sons, like naming them after Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men (British children’s characters for toddlers). Except it stuck and they’ve been Billy and Ben since February. Most side characters aren’t named but Sextus was named Christopher after Phil’s father, Tommy’s namesake is an uncle and Technoblade shares his name with a legendary warrior figure.

I can't remember when we created Death and War but neopolitan trio come from blessed bloodlines on both sides. Thomas I (founder of the dynasty and the empire) attracted War's favour, causing him and his descendants to have premonitions while, as mentioned above, Death blessed an ancestor of Kristin's and as a result, her family can interact with ghosts. The reason Wilbur's gift from Death is unusually strong is because he's been in her favour since birth. The same for Techno with War (far more in tune with his premonitions) as well as Tommy with both gods (stronger premonitions and ability to see the dead but not as strong as the other two’s specialty). None of the brothers are aware of this though, they just assume it's a side effect of the dual divine heritage, so I haven't been able to mention it in fics so far.

We knew we wanted to include Sally and Fundy in the au and having her be L’Manburgian helped bring L’Manburg itself into the picture. We both love their wedding because they’re both a pair of pissed off teenagers whose parents have gone about this the completely wrong way. It’s typical for couples to spend at least a year getting to know each other before thinking about marriage since Antarctic people value unions that have good interpersonal foundations. This trial year is especially important for arranged couples since they’re not meeting out of chance. However, Kristin wants to maximise the length of time Wilbur’s happily married to a girl she feels he’d get along well with and as much as the Salmons want Sally to be happy too, they’re also aiming to put her in a powerful position. By definition, their marriage is actually forced instead of arranged because Salbur don’t meet until they’re at the altar and neither really consented to this, more just went along with it because they felt they had no real say in it. So those several months where they don’t want to interact with their spouse could have been avoided if their trial year was in the lead up to the wedding, not the first year of marriage.

No official comment on this excerpt except for the fact it's sweet. But I do want to say Anon is the one who comes up with the majority of worldbuilding ideas that we then build upon, including linguistic quirks. They’re even in the middle of creating a conlang for Antarctic which is really cool. A lot of this linguistic stuff tends to go over my head a bit when they explain it so sometimes I worry my interest doesn't show properly when I struggle to convey how much I'm nodding my head as I listen to them talk about the ongoing process. But yeah, I am that Will Smith meme with his arms out like look at my friend create a language from scratch. She also knows a bunch of Ottoman and Roman history thanks to being a history major so that contributes a lot of inspiration towards the au. I mean the whole thing started after she told me about how the Ottomans practiced fratricide for a while and I went here's a fucked up Wilbur after coming back from walking my dog.

I used Technoblade's death and the build up to it to show that as much as Wilbur is acting on his paranoia, as much as he has painted Techno as a heartless villain, he still loves his brother. This is his turning point, in fact this is the turning point of the entire path. This murder isn't what sets F1 apart from all the other paths, him going on to kill Tommy too is what makes F1 unique, but this is where things truly begin breaking apart for him. It was important to us to portray Wilbur as someone who had lost his way, someone who did things he never wanted to believe he was capable of but still remained himself at his core. At the very beginning, Wilbur was meant to kill both his brothers because he was prideful and felt he was the only one truly suitable for the role. But then everyone got fleshed out before too long. Now he is as he's presented here: somebody who grew up in an impossible situation which has left him protective of those stuck in it with him, scared of the future and desperate for any semblance of control over it all.

Phil is an interesting character in Regicide. We don’t want anyone to be black and white, all of them have layers and complexities. Even in F4 when we were planning to make Dream the main antagonist before the recent controversy, his corruption arc began with him trying to avenge Techno to feel like there was some justice to be had which then descended into him doing anything to remain in power, no matter how wrong. With Phil though, at least in the fratricide paths, he’s not that bad. He isn’t the best dad when it comes to his sons but that’s because he’s got it in his head that dying will be easier for him if he doesn’t spend his final hours dreading what his children are about to go through, the way he saw his own father dread his sons’ fates. With his daughters and Techno, he does his best to be there for them. When Wilbur or Tommy are set to be the next emperor because they’re the eldest/only living son left, Phil tries to reach out and get to know them. Patricide is a mixed bag since P1-3 are essentially ‘Fratricide but Phil is killed earlier′ so he’s more or less the same. Then in P4-5, those are war-centric paths so he’s the same version as the Ls.

With the L’Manburgian war paths, Phil isn’t so redeemable. He’s still the same guy but at his worst. I mean in P4 he orders his best archer to shoot Wilbur with arrows tainted with wither poison and in a few paths like L2, he literally has his sons imprisoned, executed then denied the ability to move on. And yet, for Phil, he just sees a wayward son deciding to undo the 150 years’ worth of effort it took their ancestors to finally conquer L’Manburg in the first place, all because Wilbur grew attached to the place. As for ordering the death of a 14 year old? Well, sending a message obviously. Same with making them die to an axe like a commoner instead of being hanged like a noble. Nobody is above the law as far as he has something to say about it. If Wilbur wants to act like he’s any other L’Manburgian then fine, he can die like them.

[Suicidal ideation and self harm warning for this next section]

This is the start of F1bur's destructive habits. He‘s going to get worse over the years as his mental health drags his physical health down with it. All of it thanks to paranoia and a need to survive long enough to ensure Fundy never has to be hurt like he has. At times, he will quite literally only stay alive because he owes it to his brothers to finish the book or Fundy’s still young enough that he can convince himself that his son needs him. There’s a point in his 40s where the book is ready for publication and he contemplates brewing a spiked tea so he can finally stop being shunned by everyone he loves, as well as not have to deal with Tommy’s anger anymore. Fundy’s a grown man by now, he doesn’t need his dad holding him back. There’s a sentiment that keeps cropping up in this au and makes both of us put our heads in our hands (/pos) which is ‘If you love someone, you’d let them go’. This applies here too. The only good thing about that scene (other than Wilbur obviously never going through with poisoning his drink in the first place) is that Tommy’s ghost finally realises how much hurt he’s actually caused his brother, leading to him being able to move on soon after. Fundy also plans to get engaged around this time so Wilbur tells himself he’ll stick around until the wedding. Then to meet his first grandchild. And the next grandson too. Until it’s a decade later and he’s coming home from visiting Fundy in order to meet his new granddaughter. At which point 30 years’ worth of not looking after his health catches up to him. In terms of mental health, F1 and L5 (where he’s shut in a dark cell with only Tommy’s ghost for company after the war) are the hardest on Wilbur. But whereas F1bur died after a few years of his life finally feeling like it might be worth living, L5bur’s life being saved following a suicide attempt causes him to start gradually healing from what Phil put him through until he’s living because he wants to. 

Ah yes, Karl. I don’t remember what exactly the process was but I think he started off as nothing more than a great-grandson of Wilbur I who died during the first ever round of royal fratricide so that Wilbur could relate to him. Karl then also served as inspiration for Wilbur since we knew we wanted him to write a collective biography about each of his brothers, causing Karl to leave behind unfinished notes related to a similar project. I don’t know when we came up with the idea for reincarnation to be a thing in this au but it was probably February, in the context of F1 crimeboys being reborn as two boys named Seb (Wilbur) and Isaac (Tommy) so in their new lives they could start their relationship over. Suggesting Karl might be Wilbur’s past life wasn’t too much of a stretch from there. In the afterlife, there’s a mist filled section where if you walk in, you will start to lose your memories so that by the time you eventually make your way to the other side, your mind’s blank and ready to be sent to your next life. Kind of like a gaseous Lethe to be honest. The concept of the mist is definitely all Anon’s so shout out to her for that. In my mind, Karl waited for Sapnap to show up then after they’d been reunited for a while, they went in together, hand in hand. We’ve never really discussed what happened to Sapnap but Karl obviously became Wilbur. Wilbur remembers nothing of Karl’s life, even if certain things trigger a sense of deja vu seemingly randomly. With Seb and Isaac though, they begin to remember being crimeboys after meeting but again, Seb has absolutely no recollection of once being Karl. Either way, I liked dropping subtle hints in this scene that Karl was more to Wilbur than he realised. That last line about the words bouncing back to Wilbur at Karl’s grave is my favourite.

The coronation proceedings are heavily based on Elizabeth II's coronation since there's footage of the whole ceremony online. This bit especially is essentially just the same things she was asked to swear in an oath but tweaked a little to fit Wilbur and the Antarctic Empire. We knew that we wanted part of the coronation to involve the new emperor swearing to uphold the fratricide tradition. That bit is completely ad-libbed by me while the snippet of legalese that Wilbur read when he was 13 was based on the Succession to the Crown Act 2013 (I tried to access the 1707 version but legislation.gov.uk always makes stuff hard to read if they don’t have the original version which is the only downside to the website that really helped me through the legal modules of my degree). Anon and I were also talking about how difficult it must be for emperors who are fathers at the time of their coronation since those sons will have to watch their dad promise to ensure their deaths after his own. I’m sure Phil’s father had the same reluctance when he swore that oath since he had 7 sons, the youngest of which was Phil himself at 2 years old. It’s a shame the two never got to meet because I think Wilbur and his grandfather could have gotten on quite well since they were quite similar in some ways.

Either way, I hope this look into Regicide was interesting. There’s some stuff I wasn’t able to include since it was too niche or path-specific but this covers a fair amount of ground in terms of Regicide in general.

[suituuup]

that's the kind of love i've been dreaming of

Has Beca mentioned that she hates his guts? Everything is just too… annoyingly nice. His charming smile, his messy but not too messy hair, his sense of humor, and well, his taste in women, as he’s dating the girl Beca happens to be in love with.

Word count: 2005

Rating: T

Entry for Bechloe week, day one: “Because I'm in love with you, dumbass.”

Beta by the lovely @snowonebutyou and thanks to @green-eyed-weirdo for bouncing ideas with me <3

READ ON AO3

*

The muffled giggle greeting Beca when she steps through the door makes her groan. The deep voice that follows confirms that Chloe is indeed not alone, and Beca briefly considers turning around and… going for a walk or something.

But her feet are about to fall off, she feels gross from her overcrowded subway ride home where she’s pretty sure a dude sniffed her hair, and she is really fucking tired.

She’s just flopped down face first on the pull-out couch when the door to Chloe’s bedroom opens, and two sets of feet grow closer.

“You alright, Becs?”

Beca grunts something inaudible in acknowledgment before she rolls on her back. “M’fine.”

“Hey Beca,” Chicago greets her with a soft smile, and Beca somehow manages to leash in her sneer.

“Hey,” she mumbles, the best she can muster when it comes to Chloe’s boyfriend.

Has she mentioned that she hates his guts? Everything is just too… annoyingly nice. His charming smile, his messy but not too messy hair, his sense of humor, and well, his taste in women, as he’s dating the girl Beca happens to be in love with.

Yep. It’s only been four years and a half; not a big deal.

She was this close to admitting her feelings to Chloe, still reeling with adrenaline after her solo performance, when Chloe ran to Army Boy instead. Beca doesn’t think she knew what a broken heart felt like until that very moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chicago asks, setting his hands on Chloe’s hips.

“Yeah,” Chloe agrees and leans up to kiss his lips. Beca rolls her eyes, grabbing her phone from her back pocket as a distraction from the display of gag-worthy affection.

The door finally clicks shut behind Chicago, and Beca hears Chloe sigh. That kind of content sigh that has jealousy flare up within her because Chloe should be sighing like that because of her.

“I thought he was leaving tomorrow morning?” Beca asks as she scrolls through her Instagram, not really registering the photos zooming past her eyes.

“Not anymore,” Chloe says, biting on her bottom lip like she’s trying to prevent a smile from breaking through. “He’s um, going to be stationed in Brooklyn. His request just got granted.”

A huge lump forms in Beca’s throat as she registers the news and an uneasy feeling seized her stomach. “That’s--” she swallows with difficulty, swiping her tongue over her dry lips. “That’s great, Chlo.”

She soon exits Instagram, opening her safari to look for apartment listings.

*

Finding an apartment in New York City within her price range, as it turns out, is pretty fucking difficult.

You would think Beca was aware of that given the fact that there used to be one more person living in her current studio, with a simple curtain acting as bathroom walls.

(she definitely has PTSD from that night Amy had food poisoning from Taco Bell.)

When Amy moved out, Chloe took her room, because Beca is the night owl of the two, usually coming home late from work or cooking dinner after Chloe has gone to bed.

It’s pushing eleven by the time she makes it back that night, and she prays that Chloe is already in bed. The past couple of weeks following the news have been… weird, to say the least. Beca has been avoiding Chloe, coming up with excuses whenever Chloe asks her if she wants to hang out.

She makes herself a quick dinner (okay, makes might be a bit of an overstatement: she just pours some hot water over instant noodles. Don’t come at her.) and messes around on her laptop for a while, turning the lights off just after one am.

A moan reaching her ears just as she feels herself dozing off has her eyes fly open. A moan that very much belongs to Chloe, and Beca just wants to disappear off the face of the earth. Quiet laughter follows, and when the bed starts squeaking, leaving no doubt regarding what they’re doing in there, Beca ponders smothering herself with her own pillow.

She grabs her headphones instead, hastily placing them over her ears before she hears something that will most likely scar her forever. It somewhat cancels out the sounds, enough for Beca to fall asleep. She flees the apartment before either of them is awake, drowning her sorrows in a double espresso from the corner coffee shop.

Over the next few days, she excels in avoiding Chloe. She knows Chloe’s schedule well enough to come back when she’s either asleep or not there. Or at least she thought so.

“Hey.”

Beca freezes as she closes the door, looking over her shoulder to find Chloe popping her head out of the fridge.

Beca clears her throat, rubbing her nose with her knuckle as she stares down at the scuff of her shoes. “Hey,” she echoes, setting her keys down on the counter.

“Long time no see,” Chloe says as Beca sits on the edge of her bed to take her boots off.

“Yeah um, I’ve been busy,” Beca mumbles as she undoes her laces.

“Busy avoiding me?”

Beca’s spine snaps straighter at that, and she looks up to meet Chloe’s eyes. “No, just--” her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “I figured you and Chicago might enjoy some private time together.”

Chloe hums like she doesn’t believe her. “You’d tell me if-- if something was bothering you, right? I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Beca swallows. “It’s not you, Chlo. I’m just--” she sighs, feeling her frustration rise as she scrapes her brain for a believable lie. “Work sucks and I feel like I’m getting nowhere, so I’ve been crankier than usual.”

Chloe nods, her lips curving in a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time at work,” she says. “We should go out tonight! It’s been forever.”

Beca’s rebuttal lies on the tip of her tongue, out of reflex. She swallows it back, because Chloe is giving her those puppy eyes she’s mastered so well, and Beca knows damn well she can’t resist. Besides, she could definitely use a drink. Or ten.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

That’s how they find themselves in an overly too loud, busy club a handful of hours later. Beca is definitely tipsy, and Chloe has just ordered shots, so she knows she’s likely to finish the night with her head in the toilet. But she hasn’t laughed like that in a while, and it feels amazing to be… Beca and Chloe again.

It’s ruined just after Beca downs her first shot, when Army Boy shows up.

“Hi!” Chloe exclaims, springing up from her stool to hug him.

Beca grits her teeth so hard that she’s half-concerned they might break, her eyes throwing daggers at Chicago’s head.

“Hey Beca,” he says, apparently oblivious as he slides on the vacant stool.

Beca simply tilts her chin towards him, along with a tight-lipped smile. As Chicago orders his drink with the waitress, Beca shrugs her jacket on. “I’m gonna go,” she announces over the music, not caring one bit that it’s obvious as to why.

She doesn’t wait for a reply, letting her legs carry her towards the exit as quickly as possible as tears burn her eyes. She bumps into someone in her haste and mumbles a disoriented sorry, sucking in a much needed breath as soon as she steps outside of the club.

The music gradually fades away as she starts down the sidewalk, tugging her jacket tighter around her frame when a chill rolls down her spine. She’s not even sure in which direction she’s going, set on hailing the first cab she finds.

“What the hell is your problem??”

Beca freezes at the familiar voice, swallowing around the forming lump in her throat before she turns around. She barely meets Chloe’s eyes. “I’m just tired, Chlo.”

“Bullshit,” Chloe spits out, a scoff flying past her lips as she shakes her head. Her typically warm eyes are bone-chilling icy. “You left the second he got here.”

Beca sighs heavily, her hands forming fists by her sides in an attempt to tame her growing irritation. “Yeah well, maybe I didn’t feel like being the third wheel. I thought it was just going to be you and I, tonight. But you two have been attached to the hip and all you can talk about is Chicago this, Chicago that.”

“Well I’m sorry if I enjoy his company,” Chloe fires back. “You know, the least you could do is be happy for me.”

“Oh great, the guilty card,” Beca says, eyes rolling skyward. She sucks in a sharp breath. “I can’t be happy for you, Chlo.”

Chloe staggers back as though Beca’s words slapped her in the face. “What?”

“I said, I can’t be happy for you,” Beca repeats, her tone rising along with her frustration.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Chloe asks, a mixture of anger, hurt and confusion surfacing in her features. “Why can’t you be happy for me? That’s what best friends are supposed to do, you know. I mean, are you even still my best friend? Because you haven’t been acting like one those past--”

“Because I’m in love with you, dumbass!” Beca finally blurts, a lot louder than necessary. Her declaration catches the attention of a few bypassers, but Beca is too focused on Chloe to care.

She watches as realization dawns in Chloe’s eyes, and all she can hear is her heart beating madly in her ears. She swallows, glancing down at the crack in the sidewalk. “And I’m the biggest idiot in the world,” she mumbles, roughly wiping at her cheeks when she feels a few tears rolling down her skin. “I’ll be out of the apartment by tomorrow.”

Beca is thankful Chloe doesn’t follow her when she turns around and resumes her journey home. She ends up walking all the way, too embarrassed to break down in a cab like in those stupid rom-coms. She texts Amy when she makes it back to ask if she can crash at her fancy apartment, fishing out her suitcase as soon as her friend agrees. Tears keep leaking out, and Beca wipes them away with her sleeve before she starts shoving her clothes into the suitcase, trying to ignore the way her heart aches.

A key slides into the lock just as she’s done packing. Beca straightens and hastily wipes her cheeks dry, even though she knows her bloodshot eyes will betray her.

“You’re really leaving,” Chloe murmurs, her voice barely audible.

Beca sniffles as she heaves her suitcase off the bed and sets it down. “Yep.”

“Why?”

Beca bites back a humorless laugh. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m not a masochist?” She deadpans. “Seeing you and Chicago together isn’t exactly fun.”

“We broke up.”

Beca’s breathing halts as she registers the words. Her jaw slacks. “What?”

Chloe clears her throat a little, taking a step closer. She’s fiddling with her keys, something she does when she gets shy, nervous or nervous, or excited. “Well, I broke up with him.”

“You did?” Beca croaks out.

Chloe nods, the corners of her lips upturning in a sheepish smile. “Because it’s always been you, dumbass.”

Beca’s lungs flood with oxygen, and her shoulders slump, releasing the tension at once. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Chloe echoes, raising an eyebrow as she takes another step.

Beca closes her eyes briefly, her head tilting as she frowns. “Sorry, I think my brain needs to be re-booted. Could you um, could you say that again?”

Chloe chuckles, finally closing the remaining distance between them. She cups Beca’s cheek and joins their lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Beca’s knees quake as a bunch of butterflies release in her belly, and she can’t quite believe this is really happening.

She licks her tingling lips when Chloe pulls away, feeling a bit dizzy. “Um, I’m not sure I quite got that one, either. Care for an encore?”

The first of many, many ones.

[dottiechan]

ICEBREAKER Pt. 4

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Part 1 | Part 2&3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2605

Summary: R&R at 79s is the wrong time and place for you to try to regain control over your life, but at this point, you'll take any chance you can get.

Warnings: cursing, drinking, kissing

The music is almost deafening, and you let it rattle your very bones, shaking your worries and inhibitions straight out of you. You swing your hips, synching your movements up with the rhythm of the song. There's a steadily growing crowd - the 501st is back on Coruscant for a couple of weeks after all - but there's something soothing about being surrounded by so many familiar yet unfamiliar faces tonight. You've been too alert lately, eyes wide open, watching for friend and foe alike, so you allow your eyes to close now, losing all mindfulness of your surroundings, slipping into a blessed state of unawareness.

But you wouldn't get lost in 79s anyways, because the arms around you would never let you drift too far into the crowd all alone.

You barely caught his name to be honest, the name of this handsome trooper with sleek charm who started hitting on you when you were ordering yourself a drink at the bar. Of course you already know you're only toying with him, you'll never take him back to your temporary quarters on Coruscant, you probably won't even remember his name the next morning (is he Five? Fiver? The loud music drowned out his voice, and it's probably for the best), but you never needed to hit the refresh button more than you need to now.

It's a real pity, because he seems like a nice guy, but you don't have room for another nice guy in your life.

Your point is proved by the two pairs of eyes constantly following you, never losing you for even a fucking second in the middle of the crowd.

You love your squad, you really do. You've been through so many things together, you don't think anyone will ever understand you as well as Hunter, Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker do. But you also know that out of the four of them, two have a silent stalemate between them regarding their fixation on you, the third is painfully aware of this, and the fourth is impossibly oblivious. So is it too much to ask for, to want to have an entire night to yourself, without Hunter and Crosshair breathing down your neck, without Tech throwing you knowing looks, without Wrecker not understanding the tension?

Not according to you, despite the many objections the boys have all raised individually. Then after a few drinks, you very politely informed them that you need not to be chaperoned ("Okay, I've fucking had it with you all."), and that you would see them tomorrow morning ("And don't you dare come after me."), so now you're alone, enjoying your night the way you see fit.

Five - Fiver? - tightens his hold on you, almost reeling you in thanks to his enthusiasm, bless him, enjoying the attention you shower him with. He tried to impress you with his ARC trooper tales at first, but you quickly floored him when you told him you served with a squad full of enhanced commandos.

"I'm here to dance, trooper, and yet I've only heard about what you can do. Why don't you show me instead?"

That's all it took, and he's been glued to your side ever since, your drinking buddy, your pursuer, your admirer, your dance partner. You're clearly using him, and you have no doubt that you'll only be a conquest too that he can brag about to his brothers on the next morning. You don't feel bad about this, about his hands on you, sometimes even inappropriately, about the way he leans in and tugs you close by your hips. You're not a fucking Jedi, and you've had enough to drink to boost your confidence, and you accept his advances with ease. It's nice to do what you're not supposed to for once, and even though it is undoubtedly a petty reason for your little escapade, it's also nice to stick it to Hunter and Crosshair for even daring to think they could own you.

And maybe this is a cruel way to drive a point home, but you will teach them that you're not theirs to lose.

You force yourself to concentrate on the man in your arms alone, eyes lazily dragging over his beautiful features, and you reach up to trace the small "5" tattoo on his temple. Something shifts in him when you do that - he's staring at you intently, pupils blown, his hold around you tightening, like it was just a game until you touched that sacred patch of skin. It was fun, but you've made it serious now.

And you love the consequences of your actions as he leans down to kiss you, his goatee prickling your chin, his hand on your lower back pressing you impossibly close. Revenge really can be sweet sometimes. (There are feelings behind this, of course. Real feelings, painful ones, and maybe a little regret too, like the seat belt digging into your chest when the ship comes to an unexpected halt. But they don't want you. They just want to keep you in line. So how could you ever truly love either of them? How could they truly care for you? How could you feel bad about a kiss so exciting and strange and unexpected when you've been alone for so long?)

...

"I will kill him, I swear."

"For the thousandth time, Hunter, that is an ARC trooper, a valuable asset for the Republic war effort – I trust you still remember the war we're trying to win? And she's a grownup. They're both consenting adults, therefore no intervention - or killing - is necessary."

"Oh, it's not necessary, Tech. It's just something I too would fucking love to do," Crosshair joins in, grumbling. Wrecker nods along enthusiastically, never taking his worried eyes off you while you're in the embrace of a reg the squad doesn't know.

Tech pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting off the hangover that seems to have skipped ahead and visited him in the form of a headache almost instantly after he finished his last drink for the night. Or is it his brothers, his stupid, stupid, stupid brothers, not understanding that they drove you to do this? Because he sees the situation clear as day, he knows you just want to feel in control, and he can't blame you. The level of cold protectiveness you've had to put up with lately was much more than warranted. You really can take care of yourself, and yet on the excuse of not wanting you to repeat the reckless stunt you've pulled on Bracca, you could barely function aboard the Marauder or on missions without Hunter's approval or Crosshair's accompaniment.

Your rebellion, your act of defiance shouldn't surprise them, and yet they have the audacity to blame the ARC for essentially their own actions.

Tech’s shoulders bunch up around his ears, and he picks up his helmet to occupy his fidgety hands before sighing - it is unfortunate that he can no longer blame an early onset of hangover for his headache. But maybe the situation is not unsalvageable, maybe he can steer the general mood and conversation in a direction that would finally serve a more constructive purpose.

"You are all acting ridiculously, I hope you know that."

Hunter leans back in his seat, Corellian whiskey in hand, angry with Tech for challenging him, but secretly so, so embarrassed about how seeing you with someone else makes him feel. Crosshair is all death glares and crossed arms too, and Tech swoops in to claim this opportunity, to put his brothers in their place.

"Can't you see that it's all your fault? You seriously think that months of overbearing protectiveness and mistrust in her individual functioning wouldn't have repercussions? And let's not even mention the cold shoulder you give her most of the time when she tries to talk to you about this."

"How is not wanting her to get herself killed to blame here?" Hunter huffs, offended by the suggestion that somehow he has a hand in this. He would never drive you to this. He'd never try to control you! (He lies, oh, he lies, even to himself, because if he could, he would drive you into his arms instead of the arms of a stranger. He would do it, even though he knows how unhealthy and fucked up it all sounds.)

"You controlled her. But that is not love – however, letting her be and giving her the chance to make her own decision for herself is."

"This isn't about love," the sniper scoffs, taking Hunter's side for once. It is a rare occurrence, something Tech would normally cherish, though right now he has a difficult time appreciating his brothers’ cooperation. "This is about a no-good reg pushing his fucking tongue down her throat, that's what this is about."

"Oh please, because your motive to be angry isn't love." Tech doesn't mean to snap, but he can't help it. Not anymore, not with this headache, not with all this worry in his heart for you, all this anger at his brothers, all this concern for your unit. "And as our esteemed squad member has put it, 'I've fucking had it with you all, and don't you dare come after me.'"

The boys sit in their booth, almost eerily silent long minutes after Tech has up and left the bar abruptly. Wrecker, who's arrived back with the next round of drinks in the middle of this conversation, frowns in confusion when neither Crosshair nor Hunter tries to explain why Tech has stormed out on them. "So what the hell is his problem?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Crosshair shrugs. He takes one last look at that fucking ARC holding you as if you were his, whispering in your ear as if you'd ever choose him to be your lover. He stands, and pretends not to be bothered anymore. But he knows he will take his anger elsewhere for tonight, he will try to drown it, he will ask for a bottle only so that he could smash it against the sidewalk outside after having drank every last drop of it.

"Well, this party is over," Wrecker grumbles, eyeing the untouched round of drinks in front of them on the table with palpable regret.

"Is it?" Hunter asks, forcibly injecting his tone with faux cheerfulness just to reassure his brother. "When was the last time you and I had a drinking competition, old boy?"

The challenge seems to bring about a grin on Wrecker's face, and while Hunter is genuinely happy about improving his brother's mood, he just really needed an excuse to stay and keep an eye on you, beautiful, stubborn you, in the arms of another man, a man he would kill to be, even if only for one night.

...

"So did you at least get his comm frequency?"

Wrecker's question seems to turn the already cold mood to downright icy during your breakfast the next morning. Your cheeks heat up a little, but you decide to hold yourself together with decency. You're not spoken for, and you're lonely, so why the fuck should you feel sorry for what you've done last night?

"No. He was nice, but like... I'm not exactly looking for a husband right now. And he did say he would marry me on the spot if he could."

"Technically, he's Republic property, and therefore you couldn't even marry him officially even if you wanted to," Tech informs you, mouth full of food. "Unofficially would be another question, of course."

"Would you officiate my wedding if I asked you to?" you turn to Tech, eyes wide with genuine curiosity, last night's shenanigans forgotten for a moment.

"I just said it couldn't be an official marriage. But if an unofficial ceremony would be something you needed, and if you really wanted me of all people to lead it, I would do it, no questions asked."

"Tech," you smile at him, reaching across the table to give his arm a warm squeeze. "That's so sweet of you."

"She just said she wasn't looking for that sort of thing," Hunter interjects meekly, stabbing at his breakfast with his fork.

"Yeah, Tech. Apparently quick rush is more her thing."

"And what's yours? Sulking because I hang out with people you don't like?" You just can't help it, the tension hanging over you is almost unbearable, and if you can drain some of it by being an ass and snapping at Crosshair, then you will take it. You've held your tongue for so long, obeyed their every whim, but now they've crossed a line by inserting themselves into your personal life. And yet there's a nagging guilt in the back of your mind, tiny, so tiny you could almost ignore it, and yet you don't. Because you know why they've even dared to make decisions for you these past couple of months. Nobody ends up having a say in your personal life unless you letthem.

"It's not about liking them," Hunter protests, shaking his head. "We didn't know that trooper. And you're one of us. If anything happened to you on our watch..."

"Watch my back on missions, fine. But when we're on leave, I'm not yours to lose."

Tech is quiet, but there's a smug satisfaction swelling in his chest when he hears your outburst - even if it was long overdue. Maybe none of you are just quite there yet, maybe you can't solve everything overnight, but it's been a big step, and failing to appreciate the silver lining in everything has never been one of Tech's - arguably very few - weaknesses.

"And I'm... Not that it's any of your business! But I wasn't with him. Last night, I mean. I ran into Annihilation squad!" Your guilt turns to genuine joy, and it's your squad mates' turn to put on an apologetic face.

"I've met Brii on my way to the mess hall," Tech nods. "I assume you've spent the night at their barracks then?"

"They had a spare bunk, and they were stationed closer to 79s than us,” you shrug, but your nonchalance turns into sheepishness before you continue. “Lacky, erm, acquired a copy of the last season of that reality show... About the senator's wives? We used to watch that shit all the time before I got transferred here.”

"Let me get this straight," Crosshair deadpan, pointing at you with his knife. "You ditched your date just to watch a crappy show with your old squad?"

"See? You do not know me as well as you think you do."

"Apparently not. I also used to think you have good taste."

"Well, I never gave you a reason to think that," you snort, taking a bite out of your cereal bar.

"For once, we do actually agree on something."

"Cut it out, you two," Hunter grumbles, trying and failing to ignore the newfound lightness in his chest. Wrecker punches him in the arm, laughing at his tone.

"Why the grumpy tone, Sarge? Don't tell me you have a headache. Can't keep up with me anymore?"

As Hunter and Wrecker engage in a friendly round of arguing about yesterday's drinking competition, and as Crosshair joins in, inserting snarky comments here and there, you sigh, nursing your cup of caf. Aside from being exhausted, you feel... more like yourself. Stronger. Feet planted on the ground more firmly. Your will asserted and respected. And while they argue about Tatooine Sunsets and Corellian whiskey shots, somehow, in the midst of this mess, you feel at home.

[yanderecrazysie]

Hello! this is my first time requesting, but I really love your writing so I’m coming off anon for this. I adore nishinoya and your yandere alphabet of him was spot on in my opinion, you captured his personality perfectly. Could I please request a scenario or Drabble with him based on the yandere alphabet? It could be him discovering he likes someone other than kiyoko, him kidnapping reader, or their life after the fact- I’m really not picky. Whatever you’re comfortable with. If not that’s fine too, no pressure. Thanks anyway and have a wonderful day!

Thank you so much, I’m so honored! I’m so glad that I was able to keep Nishinoya’s personality intact, even when yandere-izing him! I thought over a bunch of ideas but, when rereading my yandere alphabet for him, my brain got stuck on the way he treats you after he kidnaps you, so I decided to focus on the last part of your suggestion!

I am no good at figuring out how to make a scenario or drabble so I just wrote a short one shot! I really hope this is okay and that you like it as much as the yandere alphabet!

And I hope you have a wonderful day too, my lovely fellow-human!

Title: Guilt

Pairings: Nishinoya x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, captivity, beginning of stockholm syndrome, unhealthy behavior, delusional mindset, you shouldn’t feel guilt but you do

Summary: You wanted nothing more than to go home and leave this life of captivity with a man you barely knew. But every time you try to leave, Nishinoya becomes such a broken mess. With no success at escaping, your life being freed from the stress of responsibility, and that cursed sympathy in control, you’re beginning to feel more and more guilty with every attempt you make.

guilt

/noun/

a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation

Nishinoya Yu wasn’t even a blip on your radar before he kidnapped you. Of course, you had seen the “Guardian of Karasuno” before. He was kind of hard to miss.

When the Vice Principal had made the entire school cheer their volleyball team on, you had easily noticed the wild libero. An energetic boy with spiky black hair, paired with one bright blonde streak, a loud voice, a uniform color different from the rest of his team, and saves so impressive you would have doubted they were real if you were watching the match on TV.

Again, he was hard to miss.

You always kind of saw yourself as kind of plain. Maybe, in some small ways you stood out, but it was usually after someone knew you for a little while or shared a class with you, before you stood out to them. You didn’t have that wild streak, both literally and figuratively, like Nishinoya did.

So, you’re not really sure how or why you stood out to him. You were only in that cursed tutoring group for a couple of days.

It’s true, you were oblivious. Looking back, you can see the warning signs clear as day. But, as always, it was too little too late. The “what if”s plaguing your mind were as worthless as your life choices.

The first time you tried to escape, your efforts were about as successful as your grades before you got put into the tutoring group you met Nishinoya in. You had no idea what the code for the lock was, and you misjudged how long your captor’s bathroom break would be.

Your second escape, Nishinoya actually caught you. If you weren’t desperate to go home, you would have felt bad about his disheartened expression as he carried you off to your room, whispering soothing words all the while.

The third time was the first time you saw him break. Three strikes and Nishinoya’s sanity was out.

He could barely ask what he did wrong through all of his sobbing. Like you were quieting a toddler, you explained that you didn’t like it there. That you wanted to go home. That you missed your family.

Only your first explanation was regarded as important in the boy’s mind, apparently, because the only thing to happen next was a shopping spree that practically suffocated you in clothing, jewelry, stuffed animals, blankets, perfumes, makeup, purses, fidget toys, books, movies, gift cards and more.

You tried to explain to the delusional boy that the majority of his purchases, particularly the gift cards, had no use in just the house. You hoped to sway him, convince him, into letting you shop with him.

But it was all for naught. He refused to let you come with, saying that you could ask him for anything and he’d get it (where’d he get all of this money?) and if you didn’t know, he’d bring back magazines and catalogs.

Each time you tried to escape, you lost your resolve a little more. It was taking a toll on you emotionally- your repeated failures and Nishinoya’s breakdowns that followed. It wasn’t enough that you failed, you had to deal with a face, dripping with tears, nuzzling every inch of you, and the broken-hearted whimpering that managed to make you feel bad for your captor.

You aren’t happy here. You miss your family, your friends, your pets, your life. Yet, you’re less happy when you try to leave.

It’s strange how bad you feel when Nishinoya begs you to tell him how he can improve. How he melts into your touch and peacefully drifts away to sleep when you finally say you forgive him just to calm him down. How his happy smile fades and the light in his eyes dull when he sees you trying to guess the combination for the door lock. How the tears start filling those large brown eyes, and that bottom lip starts trembling. How he manages to look like his heart is shattered to pieces more and more with each escape attempt you make.

Why do you feel bad? Logically, you know you shouldn’t, and yet…

You feel so guilty.

He gives you everything you could have asked for and more. He loves you to death, and he’s not that bad of a guy. He never hurts you or yells at you…

Maybe…

NO, you’ll never stop trying to escape! Never!

But you can’t help the guilt from clouding your senses each time you even consider trying to leave...

Note: Okay, it was a bit longer than I actually expected it to be- I was thinking “drabble = short” then I wrote over 700 words.

[kyoomiii]

♡ Confession mishaps [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ hey i was wondering if you could do a kenma kuroo and bokuto (separately and if u do that many😂) where they try to ask their crush out but since the crush had been bullied in middle school, she thinks it’s a prank and kinda gets upset? thank u sm! ❞

― 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @ anonie ​ ―

- ✎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ❝ kenma, kuroo, and bokuto ❞

- [ 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): there aren’t any explicit mentions of the bullying, however there are references to insecurities ]

- ⚘ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ❝ fluff, angst if you squint ❞

❝ sorry for the long wait anonnie, but hopefully this is to your liking <3 ❞

-yoomi ♡

The experience as a whole is new to Kenma. He had never taken interest in people before, always wary but never seeking. 

He didn’t understand the clench of his heart, or the flush of his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you make his heart thunder in his chest, beating so quickly he fears it might pop out. 

He doesn’t get it, so he ignores it, let it be the way it is because thinking about it too much gives him a headache, it fills him with anxiety. 

On the other hand, Kuroo, he notices, sees the lingering glances from his friend and the gentle pink that dusts the apples of Kenma’s cheeks. He’s probably more excited about the whole ordeal than Kenma himself is, and he definitely can’t help that he feels he has to meddle a little, because at this point he fears Kenma will let the opportunity slip. Especially now as he inwardly cringes at Kenma's lack of motivation, despite the obvious (to him at least) longing in Kenma’s eyes.

“Kenma-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t have to… I already know it’s going to be a bad idea.”

“Ouch, I was just going to say that you should tell y/n about your little crush, ya know before someone beats you to it.”

“I do not have a crush.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too~”

“Whatever…”

“So you do!”

“... No.”

As the day draws to a close, Kuroo somehow manages to recruit Lev into his little devious scheme. The poor tall unsuspecting kitten is oblivious to the dangerous glint in Kuroo’s eyes. Even now, as the two peer around the corner of the entryway, eyes locked onto the pudding haired boy they call their fiend.

Their attention quickly snaps to you as you enter the scene, walking at a mild pace as you go to meet the unsuspecting Kenma, who stiffens at your sudden appearance, shoulders visibly tensing.

You were never close to Kenma, you were in the same grade and shared some classes, but the interactions remained limited, only ever resulting in conversations regarding schoolwork, or the occasional greeting. 

Even so, you had found yourself engrossed by the  boy who spoke so little some didn’t think he had a voice. He was in a way enchanting, to you at least. And perhaps you had grown a little too fond of him, admiring from afar, but keeping distance out of fear.

So it truly did surprise you when you received that little piece of paper, words written just a tad bit messy, and the words nothing short of sweet and endearing. The piece signed with a simple “from Kenma”

“Kozume-san I received your letter, it was very sweet.”

“...Letter?”

“Your love letter…?”

“Why would I send you a love letter?”

Kenma knows, as soon as your brows pinch, frown etched into your features he had messed up. He didn’t mean to sound harsh but your sudden appearance, and the mention of a love letter from him nonetheless startled him beyond belief. He liked you of course, but he needed time to ease into it, and this sudden crash of feelings and uncertainty filled his entire being with anxiety.

“I see… I’m sorry to have bothered you Kozume-san. Forgive me, I should have known better.” 

He doesn’t miss the little scoff that falls from your lips, or the way that tears threaten to spill from those eyes that he’s grown to love so much. 

“Have a nice day.”

“-Wait l/n-san.”

Kenma is surprised he can even hear his own voice, especially as his heart beats faster than it ever has before. He must’ve been a little loud, he concludes judging by your surprised expression.

“I...Eh…”

“Kozume-san?”

“I do like you… I just didn’t send that letter.”

An eruption of feelings explode within you like fireworks lighting up the night sky. You feel your breathing suddenly stop as your lungs suddenly find themselves unable to function properly as your brain malfunctions. He likes you back.

“l/n-san?-”

“I like you too!”

The sudden outburst leaves behind an awkward silence, both faces flushed hands sweating as you stare at one another unsure and panicked.

“Just y/n.”

“What?”

“Please just call me y/n.”

“Then please call me Kenma.”

And as you gently grasp onto his hand, the two of you become too distracted to notice the grinning cats just around the corner.

“KISS ALREADY!”

“Oh my god…”

Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing short of honest, he knows this, and deep down it’s something he prides himself in. However his current predicament is churning the little devious gears in his head.

Something as simple as an ex-girlfriend who can’t seem to take a hint has been driving him up the wall, and he is more than tired- he is downright exhausted.

For weeks on end it seems as if she’s around every corner, lurking, waiting, watching. Just to pounce on him, begging to get back together. And being the honest man he is, he tells her the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

And today she seemed to be especially present, tailing after him when she could and bothering him to the point where he felt like he might explode.

Don’t get him wrong, he still cared for her to an extent, she was a friend before she was someone he had romantic feelings for and he didn’t want to burn that bridge between them. But still, things were getting out of hand and maybe a little push would stir her away.

Peeking around the corner he makes a break for it, however, despite his best attempts at hiding it seems that his height and unmistakable rooster bed head places him at a disadvantage.

“Tetsu-kun!”

Quick, he thinks as his eyes dart around the hall, landing on face after face until he recognizes someone he knows.

Dodging bodies and receiving dirty glares from students who were nearly trampled, he swiftly makes his way over to you. 

You had known Kuroo Tetsurou since your first year of highschool, the two of you were friends, and you often hung out with him and the other third years on the Nekoma volleyball team, but your platonic feelings for him soon grew into something much more.

He was sweet after all, a genuine person with good intentions even if his face and his naughty grin said otherwise. 

You were never sure if your feelings would be returned so you kept quiet, admiring from a distance as he held the hand of another girl, because you didn’t feel like he would spare you a glance in terms of romance.

But as he comes barreling towards you, his frame pinning you to the wall, face much too close to be played off as anything but romantic, you hope that maybe, just maybe there might be something there that isn’t platonic, that isn’t him looking at you as if you were just a friend.

“Tetsurou-”

“Shh…”

Flustered and embarrassed you stay quiet hiding your face away from the prying eyes of students who are curious at the scene playing out before them. 

Much to your dismay and relief, the moment lasts for only a mere fraction of a minute, and Kuroo releases you with a sigh.

“Thanks for playing along y/n.”

Your hopes are immediately crushed, but at the same time you chide yourself because you should know better. Someone like Kuroo Tetsurou would never admire you the way you admired him.

“It’s… No problem.”

And you don’t mean for your voice to waver, or for your hands to tremble as you become flustered beyond belief for thinking otherwise.

“If you don’t mind I need to go.”

You speak hurriedly because you fear that he’ll see the way your eyes water, or hear the way your voice wavers.

“Wait y/n!”

Despite the call of your name you don’t stop, you can’t stop, you can’t let him see you like this because he’ll see right through you with those perceptive eyes.

It’s only the gentle grip of a hand around your wrist that brings you to a halt, hazel eyes peering down at you as you struggle to gently tug away from his hold on you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“It’s okay Tetsurou, really.”

“No, I clearly upset you and what I did wasn’t cool…”

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

You huff, the tears you tried so hard to hold in spilling down your cheeks and landing on the linoleum flooring in small puddles. You inhale shakily eyes closing for a moment to recoup, you decide that it might as well be now than never.

“I just- really like you. And I don’t know, I felt I had a chance a second ago. It was silly of me to think that. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings- or heck if you don’t want to be friends anymore I get it.”

Kuroo is shocked, eyes wide and mouth almost agap. He’s almost speechless, after months of pinning he thought it was obvious.

“You’re so dense you know that?”

“.....What?”

“I like you too. I thought I was making that obvious.”

His obnoxious laughter that you’ve grown to love fills the now empty halls.

“How about I take you on a proper date, this weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

If there was one way you’d describe Bokuto Koutarou it would be sunshine. Sure he had a knack for falling into his so-called “emo mode” but even then he seemed to pick himself up just as quick as he’d let himself fall. 

It was something you admire most about him, his endless bounds of energy that seemed to radiate from his dazzling being. Bokuto Koutarou is nothing short of a ray of sunshine.

On the other hand another word you’d use to describe him would be dense.

Could he really not tell your interest in him? Or was it that he chose to ignore it? Did he purposefully disregard your lingering glances, your shy touches, or you softening eyes? He had no obligation to return your feelings, you understood that. But that factor didn’t ease the continuous chipping curiosity had at your mind.

Even now, as Bokuto comes bounding up to you, frame as broad as always and grin stretched wider than the sea.

“y/n~”

He calls before completely engulfing you with his whole body weight sending both of you tumbling to the ground.

“Koutarou you can’t just do that.”

Your whines of disapproval trail through one ear and out the other as his bubbling laughter sounds throughout the gym.

“I’m sorry y/n I’m just so happy to see you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, your palms becoming sweaty at his sudden declaration. You knew Bokuto was always open with his affections, always one to be friendly to anyone and everyone, but the thought of him being happy to see you seemed to set your heart aflutter.

Nevertheless you try to brush those feelings aside, gently ruffling the hair atop his head, something that had quickly become a norm after he expressed his fondness of the action.

“I’m happy to see you too Kou.”

“Let me just grab my stuff and we can get going.”

He chimes happily as he releases you from his hold, bounding off to the locker room to retrieve his belongings. His broad shoulders face you, and it’s then that he doesn’t see the look of yearning in your eyes.

“You should tell him how you feel.”

A voice suddenly states, startling you from your trance, Their words registering in your head quickly, sending a flare to your face.

“I don’t know what you mean Akaashi.”

You stutter out, though Akaashi doesn’t seem to be the least bit convinced. His emerald eyes hold clear skepticism as he quirks a brow at you.

“l/n-san, you’d have to be blind not to see your clear infatuation with him. But if you’re not up to it I won’t intervene. It’s not my place.”

His damage is swift and powerful, leaving you in a state of bewilderment despite him leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Akaashi Keiji could be scary…

“ y/n, is something the matter?”

“Ah-Kou. No, just some stuff of my mind I guess…”

“Kay… But I hope you know I’m always going to be here, so you can tell me anything you want.”

And for what seemed like the millionth time that day, your heart began beating rapidly, pounding in your chest to the point where through the duration of the entire walk home you couldn’t hear anything but the constant thumping in your ears despite Bokuto’s ramblings. Akaashi’s words playing in your mind like a broken record “You should tell him how you feel”

“Koutarou I like you.”

For the first time silence falls between both of you and you fear you may have ruined one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

“As in like like?”

“I mean… What other like is there…?”

His laughter feels the air, and suddenly you feel the world around you crashing down.

“I like you too. I thought I was making it obvious.”

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, golden eyes emitting pure happiness.

“What?”

“I like you too y/n… I guess we’re both a little dense huh?”

Dense indeed.

[mianavs]

meeting the zoldycks pt. 1

part 7 of Cathexis

a/n: we’re finally here~ splitting this up into 2 parts to make it more readable.

wc: 2.2k

Cathexis

Pangs of pain from your leg jostled you awake to a foreign room. With your instincts kicking in, you tried moving only to realize your right leg was in a hard cast and the events that led to your injury replayed in your head ending with the feel of Illumi’s strong arms carrying you to his car. 

Your eyes examined the dimly lit but well-furbished room for a hint that would dispel the growing fear in your chest regarding your whereabouts only to watch a Zoldyck butler come in with a tray of medical supplies that included a syringe needle.

Before you could utter a word, the young female butler set down the tray and rushed out of the room.

Anxious, you dragged your body to the edge of the bed and ignored the growing ache in your leg. Just when you were about to set your legs over the edge, purple bruising on your arm caught your eye and halted your progress. Darting your eyes up to the syringe needle the butler brought in, your mind pieced together everything and the realization you’d been sedated broke your composure.

Like clockwork, the door opened to reveal Illumi who entered the room and closed the door behind him. He approached your bed and trailed his impassive eyes over your form, lingering on your casted leg, before breaking the silence.

“How do you feel?”

“How long have I been here?” Your voice was hoarse from disuse but that didn’t stop the questions spilling from your lips. “Why am I here? What happened to bodies? Where’s my phone?”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed the slightest before repeating his question but you disregarded his question yet again.

“I need to get out of here. Ruo Wen is prob—”

Illumi’s bloodlust cut you off as the air in the room seemed to thicken and your surroundings blurred until all you could focus on was the man before you. Beads of cold sweat dotted your skin as fear coursed through your veins in the presence of such malicious Ren. You were trembling like a leaf when Illumi spoke once again.

“How. Do. You. Feel?”

You opened you mouth to speak but nothing came out as your eyes remained fixed on Illumi’s. As if he was pleased with your shaken state of mind, the bloodlust receded and your vision and breathing returned to normal.

“…F-fine! I’m fine…can I go now?” You sputtered, still reeling from the malice that’d permeated the air seconds ago.

Illumi quirked his head. “Not in this state. Your leg needs to heal completely.”

“I can recover at home just as easily.”

Illumi’s face twisted into an eerie smile. “After your little incident, I don’t think I can trust you being on your own—at least not like this.” His eyes trailed to your injured leg and your face flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of your defeat against Saul’s men.

“It was your fault he came for me.” You muttered, avoiding Illumi’s haunting gaze.

“I know. That’s why I took the job to kill him.” He replied absent-mindedly.

“So, you weren’t tracking me?” You cringed at how the question sounded but one look at Illumi’s oblivious face eased your embarrassment.

“No, I knew you were in Meteor City and, after reading up on his recent movements, I figured he would try to harm you.”

You were quiet as Illumi’s words sunk in. Despite the twisted reasoning behind it, you had to admit he’d saved your life and you were grateful. Besides, he was right regarding your current state; you wouldn’t be able to work with your leg in a cast. If you stayed at the Zoldyck mansion, you wouldn’t have to worry about medical bills, treatment, food, or running into your parent’s if they happened to drop by your condo.

“I’ll stay here until my leg heals but—”

“I’ll be sure to compensate you for your injuries and for the time you won’t be working.” Illumi dug into his pocket and fished out your phone before handing it to you. “Your boss called you a couple days ago.”

Scrolling through your missed calls, you looked up to ask the question you’d first asked him only to see Illumi closing the door behind him. The curse on your lips died when a notification from your bank confirmed the deposit of your compensation and you lied back down with a sigh before closing your eyes and going back to sleep.

It was a week after the incident when boredom lured you out of your room with the help of the crutches Canary brought you. While Illumi was on a mission, Canary had been the one tending to your needs and providing her companionship while you recovered. You quickly grew fond of the younger girl and appreciated her friendly personality. However, you couldn’t suppress your hunter instinct any longer and decided to roam the mansion in search for intel on Illumi and the Zoldycks.

As you hobbled down the hallways of the mansion, you noticed they were as dimly lit as your room with only a few lamps adorning the stone walls. You couldn’t help but chuckle how much the home reflected the ominous reputation of its inhabitants.

The possibility of running into one of the Zoldycks was one that you welcomed regardless of how dangerous it seemed. You needed to know more about the other family members—particularly Silva and Zeno—and what better way than to do it face to face.

Just when your arms began to ache after wandering for what seemed like an hour, a flash of white hair from the corner of your eyes caught your attention and you found yourself face to face with the third son, Killua Zoldyck.

You froze, unsure of what to say to the boy, but spoke when he turned around to head in the opposite direction.

“Wait! Do you know where I can rest?” Holding your breath until he turned, you plastered a pained smile on your face and leaned against the wall. “I think I overdid it.”

He was entirely different from Illumi. Where Illumi was inscrutable, you could see a myriad of emotions on Killua’s face that ranged from surprise, confusion, and finally concession. With an exasperated sigh, he closed the distance between you.

“There’s a small library nearby. Follow me.” His tone was harsh but he walked slowly enough for you to keep up with him.

The library was brighter than the hallways, with a large window letting sunlight stream in. It was fairly large with several bookcases filled with books, a couples of lounge chairs, a table, and a lit fireplace. The room was almost cozy and you let out a sigh of relief when you collapsed on the comfortable chair. Killua took your crutches and leaned them against your armrest before taking a seat in the adjacent to you.

“Thank you…” Debating whether or not to call him by his name, you trailed off only for Killua to interject.

“Killua.” He sounded hesitant but curious, nonetheless. “You’re my brother’s fiancé aren’t you.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m not his fiancé yet. I still have a couple months left of freedom.” Adding the last bit to feel out the nature of his relationship with Illumi, you were pleased to hear the chortle that escaped the Killua.

“Guess I’m not the only one who finds Illumi suffocating.” The sadness in his eyes betrayed his joking tone and you wondered just how suffocating Illumi’s presence was to his younger brother. “So how did you get hurt?”

You told him about Rivero’s death, your job in Meteor City, and the encounter with Saul and his men ending in their deaths at the hand of Illumi. Killua was quick to point out Illumi as the root cause of your accident and you quickly found yourself warming up to him.

“Illumi will kill anyone who interferes with his plans. He also likes to control those around him.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You said and rubbed the back of your neck where Illumi’s needle had once been embedded. “Sounds like you don’t agree with his ways.”

Killua visibly tensed and you wondered if you went too far. Just when you were going to backtrack, Killua’s body deflated in defeat before scanning the room for intruders despite being the only two people present.

“Illumi and my father expect me to be an assassin for the rest of my life but I don’t want to keep killing people.” Killua admitted, fidgeting with the material of his shorts.

“And what do you want to do?”

Killua’s eyes widened as they met yours and you couldn’t help but feel for the younger boy. “I…I want to have fun.”

You reached over and placed your hand over his. “Then you should go and have fun. This is our only life so we should do the things we want to do—not what other’s want us to do.”

“Then why don’t you try to break off things with Illumi. If it’s contract-based then there should be ways to null it.”

Watching Killua wrack his brain for ways to break off your betrothal caused a surge of warmth to spread across your chest. He was nothing like Illumi or the rumors that circulated regarding the Zoldycks and you felt grateful to have met him first. With your mind clouded by emotions, you let your guard down even more and opened your mouth to tell Killua about your plan.

“Actually, my parents and I are—”

The door swung open to reveal an old man with white hair. You raised your guard and shut your mouth as Zeno Zoldyck shuffled over to you and Killua. With the opportunity to find out more about the Zoldycks and your marriage deal before you, the corners of your mouth rose to mimic a shy smile and you lowered your gaze.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Zoldyck.”

You looked up to find him sitting next to Killua as he regarded you before smirking. “I’m sure you are.”

He saw behind your smile and sugar-coated words but you continued the façade to avoid a confrontation you weren’t ready for. “Thank you for allowing me to recover in your home, Mr. Zoldyck, and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Call me Zeno,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Mr. Zoldyck is my son. As for your stay, it’s no inconvenience, after all, this will be your home soon enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth. You felt helpless in front of the man responsible for your betrothal and the urge to leave the mansion returned.

“How has your recovery been?”

“Huh?”

The question brought you back from your thoughts and you found Zeno studying your face the way Illumi did only you could see a twinge of genuine interest in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s been going well. My leg is almost completely healed thanks to Canary’s care.”

Zeno smiled at the mention of the young butler. “It’s good to hear Canary has served you well.”

“Did Illumi ask you for Canary?” Killua interjected but Zeno merely chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I offered her up when I heard what happened to Y/N.” Zeno then turned to you. “You see, Canary is under my supervision and, as your grandfather’s granddaughter, I wanted to make sure you were cared for.”

Zeno’s words caught you off guard. You’d always assumed Zeno hated your deceased grandfather for the large debt, so finding out that he personally sent one of his butlers to attend you was a revelation you hadn’t expected.

“Were you close with my grandfather?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have lent him so much money if we weren’t” The old man laughed while you tried to make sense of the information you’d been given.

“I just assumed you held a grudge against him for the massive amount of debt.” You admitted, hoping Zeno would disclose more.

“Perhaps at one point I did, but he was a good friend despite his poor money management skills. Illumi told me he got into debt with other people and that you and your parents are paying off that debt.”

Your throat closed at the mention of the “other debt” lie you’d told Illumi. It wasn’t that you weren’t prepared to recount the lie to Zeno or the other Zoldycks but the way he said it, made you doubt it’s effectiveness.

Gone was the geniality on Zeno’s face as his eyes searched for a chink in your armor that he could exploit. Knowing you were on thin ice, you played off your surprise as embarrassment over the large amounts of debt your late grandfather owed others which seemed to get Zeno off your tail.

Killua saved you by changing the topic to your work experience as a hunter and you were more than happy to oblige with tales of your jobs from the most difficult, interesting, and just flat out weird. Killua seemed to enjoy your tales while Zeno would nod occasionally to show he was listening but never commented. Eventually, Killua asked about the Hunter Exam but just then a knock on the door interrupted you and the door swung open to reveal Gotoh, one of the butlers you were familiar with, who informed Zeno that dinner was being served.

“You should join us, Y/N.” Zeno declared and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. “My son and his wife would like to meet you.”

[starkeristheendgame]

Mechanic!Tony & Student!Peter Tinder AU

For @silkystark​ who is definitely gonna shout at me when she reads it

Peter wholeheartedly expected Tony to be a catfish. Even the introduction of Snapchat hadn’t entirely convinced him - Most of Tony’s snaps were various parts of a workshop, and the selfies he was sent seemed too good to be true. Nobody could look that good covered in grease, though Peter hadn’t plucked up the courage to request any videos yet. 

Which, he figured, was pretty stupid, having already agreed to meet Tony. 

He had, however, bullied Ned into coming with him to the agreed meeting place - A quaint little coffee shop on the outskirts of Queens, secluded enough to be comfortable but public enough to be safe. Tony had suggested it for both factors, and had told Peter if he didn’t like it, they could easily go somewhere better suited. 

Peter thumbed his screen again, watching the little loading bubble circle. 

No new messages. 

Tony was two minutes late. Ned’s obnoxious slurping of his slushie was starting to grate on his already agitated nerves. He’d thumbed the screen another four times, completely oblivious to the approaching set of legs when Ned piped up around his straw. 

“Dude, I thought you said he was a catfish?” 

Peter’s gaze shot up just in time to catch the quirk of a brow above dark, red shades, a sinful and amused smirk tilting a wide, plush mouth surrounded by the exact same stubble that Peter had seen in each photograph, and...Oh. 

He was real. 

“You can go now” Peter blurted, slapping at Ned’s shoulder as the older man before them reached up, slowly sliding off his glasses. Dark eyes framed by long lashes fixed on Peter, and he slapped a little harder at Ned, practically shoving him off the bench they’d taken residence upon. Ned muttered a soft ow, rubbing at his arm as he stood. 

“I think I’m supposed to like, threaten you, or something? So, um...If I don’t get a text in...An hour. Yeah, an hour. I’ll call the...Police” Ned attempted, shooting Tony a semi-puzzled scowl. Whatever expression he’d been aiming for, he hadn’t hit, and Peter made a soft noise of embarrassment as Tony flashed Ned a dazzling smile. 

“I can give you my number and address, if that puts you at ease” Tony remarked back, and whatever breath Peter had in his lungs disappeared, because holy voice. Smooth but with a rumbling backtone, a lilted accent that Peter instantly wanted to hear say his name. 

Ned’s nose scrunched. “No thanks. I like girls”. And then he was walking away, casting Peter a cheerful wave as he went. Peter watched him go for a moment, before he looked back up at Tony, cheeks tainted a faint pink. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Tony shifted, one hand tucking his glasses into the front of his shirt and the other extended towards Peter. 

“If he’s your scariest friend, you may want to consider hiring someone, next time”. Peter pulled a face, reaching out and taking Tony’s hand. His palm was large, a little rough, and his fingers were long and slender as he gripped and pulled, carefully and gently helping Peter to his feet. Tony was a head or two taller than him, though not by much. He was certainly broader, though. 

He’s my best friend” Peter defended, and Tony cast him a softer, gentler smile. 

“Cute”. 

Tony walked with a sort of swagger in his step, a comfortable, almost lazy saunter. It would’ve looked cocky on anyone else, but on Tony it looked natural, in place with the rest of him. There was an oil smudge on the hinge of his jaw and a few grease stains on his arms. He must’ve worn gloves when working, because his hands were scrubbed clean and his nails had been scraped. 

He even pulled the chair out, when Peter went to sit. His heart was thumping as he sat, and he felt both excited and a little sick. He hadn’t actually prepared for the scenario that Tony was real. and oh, god. Tony had seen his ass. They’d talked about sex. 

Mortified, he could only nod when Tony offered to get him a sweet tea, sinking lower into his seat as he recalled the various conversations they’d had over the past three weeks. By the time Tony returned with a small tray of two drinks and a cookie, he was scarlet. If Tony noticed, he didn’t say anything, settling across from Peter in a spread out pose. He’d ordered himself a coffee, as dark as motor oil. 

It was actually surprisingly easy to talk to Tony - Peter was interested in robotics and Tony had a hearty knowledge of chemistry. Two drinks in, they were talking animatedly. Or, Tony was, and Peter had been staring at his mouth for the past five minutes. The plump lips, the peek of a wet tongue and pearly teeth, the framework of stubble that he suddenly wanted to feel blazing his thighs raw. 

“If you keep looking at my mouth like that, I’m gonna break the rules” Tony announced suddenly, startling Peter out of his vivid daydream of Tony licking his way between his thighs. 

“Rules?” He asked after a moment, brow furrowing. What rules? 

“I agreed with myself to keep this a PG-rated date. A kiss on the cheek at the end, maximum” Tony informed him, though his own gaze had dropped, the next sweep of his lashes slow, almost demure. Peter flushed then, licking subconsciously at his lower lip. 

“We’ve kind of already passed PG” he pointed out bravely, and was rewarded with another rich smirk and a head tilt, like Tony was amused by his sudden boldness. Peter sank an inch into his seat and covered what he could of his face with his tea mug. Tony cast him another softly amused smirk, and the conversation was tactfully steered towards Peter’s career goals for the future. 

At the end of the date, Tony waited until Peter had text Ned to meet back up, and then leaned down, kindly ignoring the pathetic squeak Peter gave to press the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. “I never made any rules for the second date” Tony murmured against his ear, before turning and striding towards his vintage muscle car like he hadn’t said anything at all, leaving Peter blinking and blushing in his wake. 

Ned was resolutely impressed with a successful date, appreciative of Tony’s attractiveness from a straight-male perspective, and noted immediately that he would deny all knowledge if Aunt May somehow found out. Peter grimaced at the reminder that he’d been pretty bold in his age settings, and scampered back to his apartment before he could think too deeply on it. Being a lab tech for Oscorp paid well enough, and it didn’t hurt that he and Harry were actually pretty close friends, and occasionally fucked. 

No sooner had he settled down on his bed and bitten into a banana, his phone chimed. It was a message from Tony, a sweet remark about enjoying the date, and within the hour they had another one set up at the same coffee place. Peter stared at the messages, heart fluttering slightly. It was real; it was all real. Tony and his face and his snark and his grease stained jaw. 

He said as much, one week and two more dates later, straddling Tony’s thighs and licking shyly into his mouth, tasting the mixture of coffee and mint gum. “I still can’t believe you’re not like, fat or bald. Or a serial killer” he mumbled, aching with the need to grind down over where Tony was hard against the inside of his thigh. 

“I could still be a serial killer” Tony replied, voice rough with the effort of holding himself back. They’d been taking it relatively slow, for making out and grinding on the third date, and it was taking its toll on both of them. Tony was rock solid to the touch and Peter had a damp patch on the front of his jeans. 

“At least put me out of my misery before you put me out of my misery” Peter whined, grasping Tony’s wrist as he let himself rock just slightly, barely riding the thick rise of his cock. It had briefly crossed his mind that maybe Tony’s fault lay in having a cheeto for a cock, but that had quickly been wiped clean. 

“I’m trying to be good” Tony mumbled back, flexing his arm in Peter’s grip but obligingly not moving anywhere, kissing at his lower lip gently, almost sweetly. “I’m behaving”. Peter cursed softly under his breath, drawing a grin from the older man as the younger boy shifted, sat down on top of his clothed cock with no regard for the pressure. 

Peter reached up with both hands, cupping Tony’s cheeks in a way that was tender, before he squeezed gently, looking the mechanic straight in the eye. 

“Mr. Stark, if you’d don’t put your cock in me so deep I lose my voice, I’m gonna tie you to the bed and leave you like that”. 

[myrandom-fandomlife]

Hello! I'm the anon from the 4 part ask that you answered earlier! I saw your post about the different "eras" of DNF and I would like to share some of my opinions since I've been in the fandom since March of last year, so maybe I can write my own analysis and briefly explain what happened during these times (and hopefully someone will find enjoyment in reading this)!

So the first era was probably the most "baity" period where every interaction between Dream and George with slight romantic undertones was pure bait. From Dream placing romantic music in the background, to the small texts on screen that would read "arguing like a married couple" and even proclaiming his love to George any second he could, it was obvious that it was a means to garner a reaction and moments that could be used in compilations, edits, videos, etc. Dream addressed George just the same as he currently does Sapnap or Bad: Dude, Bro, etc, and when they weren't attempting to bait, for example on streams, things were chill, no tension, just two bros hanging out in minecraft.

LOVE OR HOST ERA. The catalyst in DNF's relationship, in my humble opinion. Now, where do I begin? So, LOH was definitely a time that I believe Dream became aware of his feelings towards George (platonic or romantic, I can't be sure) and his fear of losing him. Before/During George's LOH, we got Dream saying some interesting things, the most notable one "George is the only man I can see myself dating". Now, I'm pretty sure this was meant as bait, but how he reacted prior to LOH, was very telling. Dream would avoid George like the plague in every situation that didn't require them to interact. Twitter? Only one mention (and that was literally him tagging George in Andrea's post in spite). Stream? That I can remember he didn't join much during this time, nor did he stream that often. During MCC, the DT was separated in different teams, Sapnap & George together and Dream alone. Now Sapnap DID pop off. He was doing amazing. And Dream complimented him and his team quite a lot. But what about George? I believe he mentioned him ONCE. This was the first time we see Dream jealous in regards to George, and the lack of content and interactions between these two made many believe DNF was dead and abandon the ship all together.

QUACKITY AND KARL. Now there is a lot that happened in between LOH Arc and the friendship between the DT with Karl and Quackity. Dream and George seemed to have solved whatever occured between them, and things were tranquil. We got a few baity moments here and there, but we also started to get the start of the infamous "name-truthing", the soft voices and other subtle moments. Now, during this time George, Dream and Sapnap started developing their friendship with Quackity and Karl, George in particular started getting closer with them and spending LOTS of time with them, so much so that we got more G/K/Q content than we did DT content. And we get Jealous Dream 2.0., only difference from the other occurence of jealously? He addressed it publicly, admitted that he was frustrated and physically affected by the lack of attention from the british man. He confronted George while he was streaming, with an audience of 50k+ viewers. He was desperate.

Things were pretty calm after that, the more intimate and subtle moments between the two became more and more apparent and began to outweight the baity moments. Quackity/George/Karl continued to blossom their friendship, and DNF was slowly becoming a topic to tease George and Dream (I can only compare their teasing to that of middle schoolers when their friends had a crush). We can compare this teasing to that of Skephalo, the difference, while one is leaning on the more explicit side and used to make others laugh or get an over the top reaction, the other was used as an inside joke of sorts, only brought up to embarass or shut up Dream/George when they got over-confident (most times it would effectively leave them quiet, important to note, is that they never denied the claims nor attempted to).

TRAINS PODCAST. Oh boy, was this a night to remember. A historical mark for DNF. The point in history that George decided to become BOLD and actively flirt with Dream whenever he wanted to, rendering or poor Leo speechless most of the time. That podcast changed these men, it unlocked something within them and things have never been the same since. This is where we see the dynamic take a major switch, and baity moments had become almost non-existent, and instead we got probably some of the most tension filled convos between these himbos. Name-truthing had become something natural between them, the unavoidable excitement whenever they hear one another in call, suddenly ever call became a matter of how long until they were third-wheeling everyone. It's also during this time that we clearly see a difference in between Dream & Sapnap's relationship and Dream & George's relationship (not that one outweighed the other, but the nature of these relationships were very much opposing)

And finally we are in our current stance. Where the sweet, obnoxious moments continue to pile; More and more of their friends are calling them out (you can literally see Quackity and Karl becoming more direct and, quite honestly, aggressive with their call-outs. I bet they are just as tired as we are); The whole hoodie fiasco and the secretive pictures; Syncing sleep schedules once again; Tension continue to grow and you can see them testing the waters, in a game of tug of war until one of them caves in and starts the conversation.

As I said before, they have nothing to gain from the bait they are currently doing. They excuse it as being a joke, and hide behind this lie, as a means to test the development and seriousness of whatever they have going on. The whole Valentine's thing proves that they (unfortunately) do not understand when the other is being sincere or baity...

Also here is some food for thought. George has been very clingy with Dream ever since he and Sapnap moved in together. Not being able to see each other is certainly another factor that is affecting them.

I'm anxious to figure out what in the hell is happening next between our oblivious idiots with communication issues. It sometimes seems surreal the things that occur between them, and straight out of a fanfic.

Anyway, sorry for the long rant and if this wasn't very interesting to read! Just wanted to get some thoughts out of my head!! Stay safe and hope you have a good day/afternoon/night! ❤

Hi love! Glad to have you back <3

Firstly, don’t ever be sorry for ranting in my inbox, especially ab dnf. I love to see it!

Thank you for this, especially the early parts when I wasn’t in the fandom yet. Ahh this is super helpful.

I agree that George has gotten more clingy since Sapnap and Dream moved in together which is so funny because Dream and George have a more similar sleep schedule than Sapnap and Dream do LMAO

But yes all of this ugh I’m deeming you my genius anon