#Took a shower. Am feeling marginally better.

[squidthechaotickid]

everything will be ok :) https://www.tumblr.com/sonic-voices/164562137054/everythingll-be-okay?source=share

I am literally going to cry thank you tails

[thrawns-babygirl]

Insufferable (Crosshair x Fem!Reader 18+)

Summary: After you and Cross have an argument, he takes care of himself in the shower and he can't stand it.

Word Count: 1064

Warnings: Masturbation (M), Gags, Jealous!Crosshair, pissed off!Crosshair

A/N: Still getting the hang of writing and am scared to do anything with a lot of long form dialogue because its HARD so have some self indulgent Crosshair Smut while I work my way up to longer fics. Please tell me if this is garbage lmao i want to improve

Also pls send in some Crosshair requests! I'm really keen to write for the community otherwise this blog is going to devolve into really derange self indulgent kinks lmao

Sitting down in The Batch’s barracks after yet another successful mission, the topic of conversation shifted to the competition that Wrecker and Crosshair had every time they engaged with separatist forces. Crosshair was sulking, which was not unusual when you two were in the same room together, you were constantly bickering with one another, sending teasing and oftentimes scathing remarks back and forth trying to get a rise out of one another. Tonight, however it was compounded by the fact that he lost their little contest by a rather large margin.

“Well maybe you would have won if you were actually in the fight with your brothers instead of hiding up on that ridge. But Wrecker won this round fair and square.” You smirk over at the grumpy sniper as you finish up your routine post mission check up of the squad’s vitals. You were rarely needed to provide any actual medical assistance, but you were there to ensure that the Kaminoan’s premier squad was kept in good health in between long stints off-world.

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about being in the field, there is a lot more to it than you think, maybe try going out onto the front lines before you tell me I’m not doing enough, before you tell me I’m hiding” Crosshair bites out at you, removing the toothpick from between his lips and flicking it off to the side, earning him a chiding look from Hunter as it lands on the floor.

“Well I wouldn’t exactly call being a sniper up on a hill away from all the action ‘the front lines’ but whatever makes you feel better about losing Cross” You give him a sickeningly sweet smile as you input the Batch’s vitals into your datapad preparing to retreat to your own quarters for the night. You didn't mean it, the other boys knew you didn't mean it, but he always took the bait and getting a rise out of him was just so fun.

Glaring at you, Crosshair stood up and retreated into the refresher of the Batch’s barracks, grumbling various curses under his breath as he went. When the door closed behind him you turn to Hunter; “Too much?” you ask standing and walking towards the door to their barracks.

“Nah, he’s always dishing out way worse, needs to learn how to take it too” Hunter chuckles as he walks you to the door, he and the rest of the batch wishing you a good night as you turn and head towards the medbay to update their files before turning in for the night.

Closing the ‘fresher door he takes a deep breath his body betraying him as his concealed cock throbs against the hard plastoid of his codpiece.  He begins ridding himself of his armour, letting each piece clatter unceremoniously to the floor with a dull thud. Looking down to his traitorous biology he turned on the water, determined to have a cold shower and get you out of his head. Even if you would never know, he wasn’t going to let you have any power over him as he stands under the icy spray.

You were so utterly annoying, always sending cutting remarks his way, always trying to get under his skin, always trying to one up him. For a lousy doctor who had never seen the front lines you had an awful lot to say about how he and his brothers did their job.

So why couldn’t he get you out of his head? Why did your stupid fucking smirk make him want to tear your clothes off and shove his aching length into your cunt? Why did every back and forth send blood rushing south, ruining his resolve? He hated you… right?

Sighing and closing his eyes he tries to think about anything else to will his erection away, but you would not leave his mind’s eye. You were insufferable, a know it all, absolutely unbearable but also… exactly Crosshair’s type, quick witted, didn’t shy away from his abrasive personality and to top it all off you were gorgeous. Your uniform, while unflattering on most people, hugged your body in all the right ways, accentuating your curves and making you, at least in Crosshair’s eyes, utterly irresistible.

With a resigned sigh, his hand wanders down to his still rock hard, weeping cock. Now angrier with himself than you he begins running his hand along his shaft, thumbing his slit he releases a low groan as he began picturing you in more and more vulgar positions. He imagined you here in the refresher with him, on your knees, mouth open and QUIET for once as he shoved his length in and out of your mouth working up the tempo until he was fucking your face, head of his cock reaching the back of your throat as you gagged around him, tears streaming from your eyes as you struggled to take his girth.

Letting out a choked moan as he continued to fuck his closed fist, he let his mind wander further, to bending you over his bunk in the barracks while his brothers were out doing maker knows what, panties shoved in your mouth to muffle your moans as his hips piston in and out of your soaked pussy. Fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise, making his bunk groan out in protest at the wild pace he set, he pictured your muffled whimpers and groans as you took everything that he would give you like a good little slut. Your muscles clenching around him as he grew ever closer to his own release.

He would let you speak only to beg him to let you cum, to beg for him to cum in your cunt, beg for him to claim you. Tell him that only he could give you what you wanted as he pounded into you. He would ruin you for other men. He knows for a fact you’ve fucked regs in the past and the thought made his blood boil. He could fuck you better than any reg ever could. He would leave his mark on your body and soul.

Vigorously stroking his aching length, he brought his hand up to his mouth as he neared his end, biting down as he sprayed the ‘fresher wall with his seed, wanting more than anything to paint your stupid annoying face with his spend as you looked up at him and thank him for his gracious gift.

You were insufferable…. But maybe he didn’t actually hate you.

[saturngalore]

So I did see a very big blogger say that they’re too triggered and exhausted by police brutality and watching our peers die, that they choose to not care and don’t have to. I was blown away by that. Yes, god, I am so tired of the problems we face in our country from being black but to show no empathy for others really saddens me. I truly thought some of my peers here were better than that. Seeing your post though restored my faith and I thank you for saying what I couldn’t put into words. A simple reblog for thousands of eyes to see is so important I don’t see how they don’t get it.

hi anon! sorry it took me awhile to respond bc i really wanted take extra time and thought for this. im glad that my post showed you that everyone not think and feel the same about sharing/supporting for palestine even though we may have the same racial/ethnic background. it’s honestly really disheartening but still frustrating to see other black simmers or just really some black people irl to kinda have that same reaction to what’s going on. i completely understand the suffocating trauma and feeling of hopelessness that comes with being black especially in america. not everyone who is black has the same trauma and i cannot speak for everyone especially those who may had a family member, friend or someone they knew affected by police brutality and/or lynching. the response to police brutality was to protect our peace, to take a break, and to prevent us from breaking down to point of not being able to fight against systemic oppression either alive or not. and that was understandable because stress and constantly being in fear about dying a senseless and brutal death for only being black heavily impacts our health both mentally and physically. im not trying to invalid that pain or experiences at all. and i never will.

but it just doesn’t feel right to me personally to turn away and stay silent about a literal genocide occurring right before us that is endorsed by our current president and is funded by american taxpayer dollars. even though im african american and a list of other marginalized identities, i still have the vital and basic privilege of being able to live with a roof over my head, a warm bed and shower, access to food and water when i need it, access to electricity to listen to music and be on my computer/phone, and so much more than many palestinians don’t have the opportunity to have right now. my mental health is not the best some days but waking up to see what’s going on in palestine every day for the past couple days have yet to drain me (this is probably another privilege) because it’s also the small and big moments of seeing palestine children smiling, journalists i have seen ever since this started still alive and reporting, people protesting all over the world via blockades and physical/financial boycotts. my experience during peak blm may have drained me emotional but the experience also radicalized me and made my activism or just simply my outlook on life more focused on love, community, nourishment, and a hopeful life without colonialism and imperialism. if i was more passive in engaging with geopolitical issues and just shut out the world around then i would be missing out on a lot of good things in this life.

i feel like there could be better ways to say this and maybe im just rambling on but there must be a balance between sustaining yourself as a person amid constant turmoil, violence, pain and death versus becoming complicit and silent just like those who oppress want us to be. every single one of us will not win or be free if silence is the only thing people can do to “protect our peace”. at the end of day, we owe it to the palestinians (as well as the congolese, haitians, sudanese, and many others who only ask that we speak up and care more).

[juliannepepper]

Day 8

The art of taking breaks

Woo! You made it past the first week of writing, and now it’s your second Wednesday of NaNoWriMo! Have you been writing every day? Have you been meeting your goals? If not, that’s totally fine. Look back on what you HAVE accomplished—you deserve a round of applause and a break.

A lot of people are losing motivation and easily getting burned out. I’m gonna share some tips that will help you balance your writing productivity (and not just for writing, but for basically every other aspect of your life). I will teach you the art of taking breaks

——————

The Pomodoro Technique

What is a pomodoro? It’s when you split your work into intervals with short breaks in between. The intervals can vary, but the standard interval is usually 25 minutes long, followed by a five minute break. It might not seem like a long time for a break, but that’s more than enough, from what I can tell. Especially when your break is just sitting there and letting it simmer.

After a certain amount of intervals, you can treat yourself to a long break. For me, I do six different intervals (that’s three hours of work!) and watch some documentaries to reward myself. This is a really great way to both instill staying focused and productive, and taking regular breaks! There’s a ton of pomodoro timers online, in app stores, and, the best part is that you can totally make your own. If you have a timer and some time, you can do it anytime anywhere

Having something to look forward to

Did you know about this psychological study meant to record reward systems? Picture this:

A group of kids were told to take a math test. They had some knowledge, but it’s not like we were testing them on their knowledge.

No, the ones conducting the study wanted to see the effects of reward systems on productivity and work morale. So, they told them to think of something that makes them excited, then, they took another math test to compare the scores.

Compared to when they first started, the children did SUBSTANTIALLY better when they thought of something that excited them.

The best part, almost every child had thought of the same thought. They didn’t think about winning a million dollars, or going to Disneyland, or riding a private jet. The one thought that made a majority of these kids excited was Jello.

Am I telling you to take breaks by rewarding yourself with Jello? No. But what I am telling you, is that rewards can be much simpler than you realize. Before you work, plan on doing something to reward yourself once you’re done. Not only will it boost productivity, but it’ll make everything worth it once you’ve gone through a day well-spent. Who knows? Maybe your ideal reward is Jello.

Knowing your limits and when you push them

It’s important to test your limits by pushing them. I believe that knowing how far you can go and what you’re capable of, and knowing when to quit is one of the most important aspects in life. Of course, it’s not a binary system, and there are some margins for error. But, that’s the great part about it, we can constantly see where our limits are, and we can even stretch our limits!

However, no one ever tells us what to do once we get there. What happens when we’re at our limit? What happens when we feel exhausted and burnt out? Well, I propose a formula for you. If you feel exhausted and you want to take a short break, I would go down this list:

Shower

Eat and drink water

Sleep

If you feel tired, the first thing I want you to do before trying to sleep is to take a shower. So many problems in life can simply be solved by making sure you’re clean.

If you’re still tired as hell, eat a snack and, most importantly, DRINK SOME WATER! A lot of people feel exhausted when they’re dehydrated and they don’t even realize it.

If you’ve tried the previous two steps and you’re tired, just go to sleep.

[gg-carboxylase]

Got ahold of Step by Step episode 12. We needed 2 more episodes as usual with these series.

If you've not watched the show, please do. It's worth your time, even if you feel like you're wading thru the first few episodes. It's slow burn. This is not horny hours. This is really office hours.

Spoilers under the cut obvs.

Some meta. Mostly my opinions.

I wrote that paragraph before the Mildly Spicy Bed Makeout. I kind of enjoy that Jeng shooed Pat to the shower For Reasons. At least, I personally infer bottom reasons but that's just me. Still, I would have liked more spice à la Bed Friend, but I'm a thirsty ho.

I'll get this admission off my chest — I'm bummed that we got those really spicy kisses and that's as far as it went. KP and Domundi productions spoiled me, obviously. Did I want to see them fake fuck? Yeah. I'll admit it.

The scene where they were writing out then deleting their text messages was acted to perfection.

Hot take — Ben is the worst ugly crier. We love him anyway.

Jeng is a stalker, he needs to learn to go less hard. He also needed to resign like, 2 years earlier from the company. Good for him though. Dad is hot. Shame he's a homophobe.

I am super over people singing in the shows, no matter how good they are.

I love that Jeng's passion is cooking.

You can tell this is a real Thai show because when they show that green curry, it's real green curry even if it's store bought. It's hard to find good green curry paste over here unless you're in certain places.

Jeng's mom — what was the point of a 30 second meeting. Ben is so good at being nervous and young, he's really a great actor.

The chemistry is off the charts in this episode, good Christ. They obviously had fun shooting the cake scene.

Jeng better have a hell of a savings if he's returning all his shares to his dad and putting his hopes on his restaurant.

The restaurant biz is a bitch. I grew up in the restaurant business and the margins are razor thin, even in famous and successful restaurants. Hopefully, Pat's advertising firm is doing well.

Seriously, again. Needed another couple episodes. Especially with how Jeng's dad tossed his resignation letter.

I know Man said this would be his only BL, but I would really like to see them do another show together. They really got their shit together at the end and it's rare to see a couple that can have this kind of chemistry.

The age difference works really well between them, it's comfortable — which isn't there for a lot of decade+ couples — and there's a lot of plots where this could be used. So let's manifest that.

I have no idea what the fuck Man does for a living, so I'm not sure if he's even free to do another series. Dude has an econ degree, which means nothing (no offense econ folks, you guys are like Swiss army knives). I suspect he's a mini Mile Phakphum, and just sort of exists on the largess of his family and his modeling career.

I very much liked this series. It's definitely in my list of favorites. For me, it started out rocky because I didn't understand what it was trying to do. Looking back, now that I see what the aim is, the path it took is perfect.

Would I have liked more sex? Absolutely, but as I mentioned before — I'm a thirsty ho. These lads get paid more than I make as a clinical lab scientist, spending my day making your doctor look smart. A little bed shenanigans isn't too much to ask.

Alas, I can't complain too much. The kisses we got were A+, top-tier compared to nearly any other series. The physical stuff we did get was also A+. Truly, my complaints are mostly unfounded. We could have ended up with Korean level bullshit.

I'm not going to bother with meta about the story because there's users here that are far better at articulating exactly what I want to say, so troll the tag for them.

[jesuuna]

i walked in, put my backs on his roommate's bed, and bumped into K who was topless, fresh out of the shower. i stared at the hair on chest, because i forget that men have hair sometimes. i've been so used to hairless men, that it sometimes shocks me to imagine pressing my bare chest against what feels like a carpeted, type of love.

he asked me what i needed, as he scampered off to work a bit more. "water, tea, anything?" i asked for hot tea, and he pulled out a tray of loose leaf teas, and a chinoiserie kettle. we sniffed through the assortment of jars and teas as i perused through the books on his shelf. "Joy is My Hotel" by Raimbaut d'Aurenga. he told me he'd try to get me a copy, as that was published by a free press (or something like that). i'm glad that there is a man who loves (like? i haven't actually meditated on whether we love each other) me enough to send me poems, that i may like.

as he boiled the water, he then asked me what i needed as he occupied himself with work: "paper, pen, poetry, books?". i requested paper and pen, and he came back: "an assortment of pens, an assortment of paper". i grabbed the paper and drew what i felt like the universe looked like (a spiral of course), and journaled my heart out. it was nice to just exist in a home of someone i like. i hope he liked it too.

after he finished work, he asked me if i wanted popcorn, and what assortment of flavours on top: "olive oil, salt, nutritional yeast?". I opted for olive oil and salt, and he remarked that i oversalted the popcorn, whereas i still believe that i perfectly salted the popcorn.

he asked if it was okay to share a bowl and i obliged. he poured the popcorn into a wooden bowl and we sat on the rug next to the couch. i read my assortment of drawings and writing to him as he understood my scribbled handwriting. he grabbed a packet of 200 poems he had written, and told me that he spent the morning sorting through them all. we laughed as he had scribbled a few questionable notes on the margins, and delved into more of his writing.

after staring into his blue eyes for too long, i said "i want to ask you something" and i took a long sip of the tea that he made and re-filled. he waited, and then i said "are you attracted to me, or are we platonic?" he took a few seconds to process and then said "yes, i am attracted to you." he shared that he has thought about whether this should happen, and was enjoying the mystery of it all. he shared that he's had some bad experiences with friends, where one person got attached, or things just didn't work out and things got weird.

i then made him a sailor hat and put it on his head, and he joked and said that he would kiss me "in due time". i punched him and we giggled. we talked a lot more, bantered, he joked about how this conversation is so much better than the makeout, and i was like "well you'll never know how that feels and what's better or not." i told him "well you said my lips are devourable" and he said "well yes, they are. your lips are very kissable."

we talked through what types of kisses he likes, and how S has a theory about how good kissing = good sex.

blah blah i don't feel like typing more now.

after the conversation, we stood up and he gave me a big hug. i held him tight, and he kissed my head. i felt very loved and seen.

[kingdom-by-the-sea]

With My Whole Heart

Summary- Y/N and Spencer have known each other for what feels like forever. Long enough that admitting they have feelings for each other seems like too big of a risk to take- especially since they have been living together and raising Spencer’s daughter, Annabel, for the past seven years.

Warnings- mostly fluff with a bit of angst, Spencer Reid being a dad, a sizable serving of Poe mixed in

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count- 5.5k

A/N- For @imagining-in-the-margins​ Roommates Challenge (specifically the prompt about one of the roommates being a single parent). I have come to the decision that I am done with this fic. It is the longest completed thing I have ever written and I still feel like it could be better but I generally feel happy with it.

~~~~

“What’s a mommy like?”

The tired honey sweet voice of Annabel Reid drifted through the peaceful silence. A pleasant quiet hung over the room interrupted only by the rhythmic purrs of Y/N’s cat. Y/N drew the small girl closer to her as she began to carefully craft a suitable response. 

“That’s a tough one, Annie,” she answered, combing her fingers gently through the little girl’s unruly brown curls that always reminded her so much of Spencer’s, “I guess…. A mommy is the one person in the world who will always love you with her whole heart no matter what- except for your daddy of course,” Y/N corrected, watching as Annabel’s eyes drifted shut with a small smile at the thought of her dad.

“A mommy is always thinking about her kids and does everything in her power to make sure they are happy and safe,” Y/N continued, now staring off at the blank ceiling, “She would do anything and everything for them…”

Annabel’s breathing had slowed and grown shallower till Y/N was sure the little girl had drifted off to the land of dreams. Slowly and gently, putting considerable effort into not waking her, Y/N unwrapped her arms from Annabel’s small body until she was standing in front of the bed.

“I love you, bug,” she whispered softly brushing a stray hair away from Annabel’s face before leaning down to place the lightest kiss on her forehead. 

It only took a few steps to leave the room but Y/N lingered watching her best friend’s daughter dream and feeling an overwhelming sense of love for the little girl sleeping before her. It hadn’t taken much for Y/N to fall in love with that little girl. Annabel was the purified version of Y/N’s best friend, Spencer Reid, wrapped up into a seven year old with the biggest heart. She was absolutely precious. 

From the moment Y/N had met Annabel, they had both latched on to each other. Even as a baby Annabel had chosen Y/N to be one of her people and Y/N was grateful to be a part of her life everyday. Raising a little girl alone while working for the FBI had been a lot for Spencer to handle. His schedule didn’t easily lend itself to single parenting but everyone knew there wasn’t a single thing Spencer wouldn’t do for Annabel. She was his entire world.

For a while he had considered leaving the BAU to raise her but it seemed fate had stepped in when Y/N told him she wanted to move to DC and everything fell into place. Her work schedule was the complete opposite of his. As a freelance writer, she had about as much flexibility as she could want, allowing her to be there for every school concert, every science project, and every story time. 

As much as Spencer hated being away from his daughter, he knew that she was safe with his best friend when he was called away. Spencer continuously showered Y/N with thanks, never understanding how much she valued this time with his daughter. Annabel had taken up residence in her heart and showed no intention of leaving. And if Y/N was completely honest with herself, she knew Annabel wasn’t the only one. 

Although Spencer was her best friend, she had always been able to recognize how attractive he was and constantly felt a simmering jealousy towards the girl at the other end of the love story she knew he’d one day have. That feeling had always been there, lingering but it had grown to a new height when she moved in with Spencer and Annabel. There was a fire in her heart that called for him despite all of her attempts to settle it. Y/N loved him with all over her heart. But it didn’t matter. She would never say a word, content to burn to ashes in her desire if it meant she could stay a part of their little world. She was sure he couldn’t possibly feel the same way and yet her heart shattered at the thought of Spencer finding someone else to share his life raising Annabel with.

~~~~

Coming home to them had to be the best feeling in the world. After a long week of investigating dead ends and running in circles, opening their apartment door to see Y/N watching over his daughter was like falling into a warm cushion of love. Spencer felt a smile pull at his lips for the first time in nearly a week as he set his things aside and joined Y/N in his daughter’s doorway. 

“Hey,” he breathed out quietly watching Annabel sleep as he wrapped Y/N in a tight hug desperate to have the comfort of home even closer to him. 

Spencer gently unwound himself from her body so they stood next to each other in silent observation of the peaceful sight before them. 

“Hi,” Y/N responded with a smile, simultaneously loosening and tightening at the feeling of Spencer’s arm still gently draped around her waist, pleasantly echoing the too quick hug. She couldn’t help but lean into his touch. 

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered to her and the cool air that surrounded them. 

“Oh shush,” she lightly swatted at him in response, “I’ve told you, you don’t need to thank me for anything. I love that little girl with my whole heart.”

He turned to face her with a smile, sleep softening his features but doing little to hide the blatant appreciation on his face, “You’re amazing- you know that right?”

“Of course,” she teased with a light laugh, pulling him away from the doorway and into the living room where they could be a little louder. Her own tiredness made Y/N strangely confident as she held his hand in both of hers. 

But he didn’t mind- not by a long shot. A large smile filled his face as Spencer let himself enjoy the enveloping feeling of safety and comfort without his usual anxieties. 

“How are you?” Y/N asked once they were both plopped on to the couch asking not in formality but with genuine interest and concern. 

Spencer nodded slightly before answering, “Everyone got home safe….”

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, the light pressure alleviating some of the stress that had been sitting in the pit of his stomach the past several hours, “Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

“I just…” he shook his head at the floor, “The things they saw, what he did to them that’s going to stay at the forefront of their minds until the day they die. If you or Annie had to even just see the things that happened to them- I can’t even imagine it.”

“Spence…” her heart tightened at his words, “You did everything you could for them. It will always be a part of them but because of you and the team, it won't be their entire stories.”

Spencer smiled sadly and leaned his head against her shoulder, exhaustion taking over, “Tell me about you and Annabel.”

Y/N reigned in her excited pride about the last week before she began, “Well, we only have a chapter left of James and the Giant Peach, she’ll be really happy you’re here to finish it with us.”

A smile danced on Spencer’s lips as his eyes bobbed shut and he leaned more of his weight against Y/N and the couch. 

“On our way back from the library, Annabel saw a street performer playing a violin and has been learning anything and everything about them since then,” love and joy seeped through every word and Y/N did nothing to hide it enjoying the way Spencer smiled with his closed tired eyes. 

“Did you know that the word violin comes from the Latin term vitula which means female cow?” He said without making any move to open his eyes. 

Y/N laughed softly, trying her best not to shake the doctor leaning against her, “Actually I did. Your daughter told me yesterday morning before school.”

Spencer’s smile tightened with pride. 

~~~~

The sun rose over their peaceful Saturday morning, sending streams of light through the windows to dance on the hardwood floors. These were the kinds of memories Spencer held tight to while he was gone. He pictured it like a photo folded up in some corner of his mind, tainted by the warm sun and worn at the edges like a well read book. 

He could hear Annabel shuffling around her room before he saw her. All of a sudden it was like a flip had switched and the little girl came bounding from the room frantically looking around before she let her hope run wild. It was like night and day when she noticed him standing in the kitchen. She bounded towards him with outstretched arms.

“Dad!” her voice was light and happy and Y/N watched as Spencer pulled the little girl up into an embrace. The pure joy shown through to the best version of Spencer. Bright, happy and with his daughter in his arms. 

“I missed you so much, bug,” he brushed a hand over her hair holding her tight against him.

“I missed you too,” Annabel said against the fabric of his shirt. 

Gently setting her down, Spencer watched her face light up with stories she wanted to tell him.

“Oh!” Annabel brightened again, taking Spencer’s hand and pulling him towards the kitchen table, “I saw this lady playing the violin when we left the library! She just kept playing and playing and the bow and her hands moved so fast. I wanna learn how to play the violin so I’ve been reading about them and writing stuff down.”

Spencer sat in a chair and pulled his daughter on to his lap, content to listen to her tell him anything and everything she cared about.

Y/N smiled at the two of them loving every moment and interaction more than she could verbalize. Eventually she eased herself from the sofa pulling Spencer’s purple scarf from the shelf and wrapping it around her neck, “I have to go meet with the publisher visiting from New York.”

“Wait-” she spun around quickly to face Reid, “Do you mind printing out the new chapters of my manuscript? I want to start editing soon.”

He nodded in response like she knew he would. Y/N hated leaving during these kinds of moments which were often far and few between but as freeform as her job was, there were some things that were unavoidable. Annabel waved her off not even turning to look as she engrossed herself with sharing everything she had learned over the past several days. And Spencer- he turned to smile at her, Annabel still in his lap. Y/N couldn’t help the tug in her heart that yearned for something more, some sort of goodbye that involved more than just a kind smile. Before her mind could muddle with any more complicated feelings, Y/N returned the smile and crossed the doorway out of the apartment.

“Oh! Oh!” Annabel's face shown bright and she counted facts on her fingers, “Did you know that the violin is 500 years old? The first modern violin was in Italy during the 1500s but it probably originated from the lyre and something called a rebab.”

She rambled in a familiar fashion and Spencer beamed at his daughter. She was everything he could have hoped for and so much more. Annabel truly was a mini Spencer through and through and as much as it scared him to think she would inherit his insecurities and struggles, there were moments like these when his heart soared to find himself in another person and know that Annabel would never have to grow up feeling that she was alone in her tendencies or fascinations.

He hugged Annabel against him, “I just love you so much, bug.”

“With your whole heart?” Annabel questioned absentmindedly tracing patterns with her finger over the notes and drawings she had made of the violins. 

“Absolutely,” he answered, studying her notes.

“That’s what Y/N said moms do,” Annabel continued innocently finally turning to face him, “She said that mommies love their kids with their whole heart no matter what.”

She roughly quoted the words she had heard last night, further proving to Spencer that she had at least partially inherited his memory.

“That’s true,” he answered, nodding slightly.

Annabel slumped against him, “Why don’t I have a mommy? Everyone at school has one and my friend- Marina, she even has two mommies.”

Annabel’s tone had changed slightly and he heard a familiar yearning in it that he recognized from his own childhood. The quiet desperation for something every other kid in the world seemed to have other than you. He did his best not to let her words weigh too heavy on his heart. It was natural for a child to want what they didn’t have, especially if it seemed to them that everyone else had it but he still hated it. Spencer wanted her to have everything, to never feel like she was missing out. He wanted to stuff her heart full of love until it poured out.

“Well,” Spencer began precariously, “In order for you to be born, I had to get some help from someone else. She made you in her tummy for me so that I could have you without needing a mommy there to help me.”

“I know,” Annabel whined slightly, frustrated that she couldn’t get her point across, “I know that’s how I was made but why don’t I have a mommy now? If there are families where the mom and dad can decide they want to go get a baby without making one, why can’t there be a mommy who decides she wants me like how you decided?”

A pain twinged near his heart as he searched for some magic word he could say to make it all better.

“I know it’s not always easy, bug, but I love you so much and Y/N and I will always be here for you,” Spencer attempted to answer.

Annabel leaned her head against his chest, “Do you think Y/N would be my mommy? She goes to all the concerts and meetings that the other mommies do.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer answered honestly, brushing his fingers through his little girl’s hair in an effort to soothe her, “Maybe someday but that’s a big job and she already does a lot for us. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

Annabel sighed leaning further into him.

“Do you want to go get ready for your sleepover with Henry and Aunt JJ?” he offered, trying to buoy her spirits. She nodded solemnly and rose from her spot taking her dad’s hand in hers as they headed towards her room.

~~~~

“Long nights of writing a story that flows like water till the sun rises and being able to dream of that book while the sun’s away- careful, you might tempt what remains of the twenty-four year old version of me.”

He hadn’t meant to read her emails. It had started out innocent enough, Spencer opening her computer to print the new chapters of her book for her. It had started out this way but once he saw her open inbox and the message she had left for the publisher from New York, he couldn’t help himself. 

More than her name signed at the end of the email, what shook Spencer was the truth in her words. They were Y/N’s words through and through, every phrase painted and signed in her unique way. It wouldn’t have felt out of place in one of the manuscripts she kept precariously stacked on her desk.

Long nights? Dreaming while the sun’s away? Something pulled taut inside of him as he pulled the unwritten reason she couldn’t live out the fantasy she described in the email. There was no writing all night and sleeping all day. Not when she had to be up to make lunches, take Annabel to school, and all the other mundane tasks that conflicted with the romantic dream of her life as a writer. 

As much as Spencer wanted to deny the picture Y/N had painted with her words, his mind couldn’t bridge the cavern of truth that lay there. This was the life she had described to him in college when they both sat outside drunk on exhaustion during finals week. This had been what got her through every bullshit assignment and misogynist professor. It had been her dream as long as he could remember.

A dream that she had set aside to come change his daughter’s diapers with him in DC. 

Worry pulled his muscles tight. Y/N wouldn’t leave, would she? Not when he had just promised Annabel that she was dependable, that she would always be there. Spencer knew that Y/N had changed her life to move in with him and his several months old infant all those years ago but he had believed her everytime she told him that she was content with the arrangement, that she didn’t mind. It all came crashing in on him how much she had given up just for the sake of helping him with his infant daughter. Y/N had shattered a version of her life to be there with him, a version she could never get back. It would be natural for her to want it back. To want something other than life in a cramped apartment with him and his daughter. 

His mind spun with fear and anxiety, stray thoughts running into each other until they turned into a dizzying ball of anxiety. Spencer moved to the living room and sat on the couch glad JJ had already come to pick up Annabel. Whatever this crisis amounted to, Annabel didn’t deserve to bear the weight of it.

~~~~

It had been his apartment, his and Annabel’s, but over the years she had slowly leaned what had been Spencer’s dark academia styled apartment into something brighter and more lively. Y/N wasn’t a maximalist by choice necessarily, but she had a way of accumulating objects. Something cute she had seen waiting in line at the grocery store, some obscure item she had seen on Pinterest. But what she collected more than anything was books.

There were books on nearly every surface, leaving just enough room for the apartment to still be livable for two adults and a seven-year-old girl. Books on coffee tables, books on counters, books stacked in piles on the floor. Together they had long surpassed the carrying capacity of the shelves, leading books to spill out on to every available space and ultimately providing Y/N’s cat an easy way to bound from every piece of furniture in the apartment without having to step on the floor.

There were books on every topic any of them had found fascinating during any point of their lives. Books on gardening from when Y/N had grown fascinated with growing herbs, books on dinosaurs from when Spencer had wanted to impress Jack and Henry with less known facts, books from every stage of Annabel’s life. 

The books told a story, albeit a messy one. One where the three of them danced from fascination to fascination sharing their interests and passions with each other. It was a beautiful story and one Spencer hoped would never end.

As much as Y/N enjoyed the detailed accounts of obscure places and creatures that filled the apartment, he knew her true love was fiction. That was what filled her bags wherever she went and often covered her entire bed. These were the books she laughed and cried to. Ultimately that was who she was underneath the biographies and historical novels he and Annabel managed to surround her with.

She was a storyteller.

Her mind spun with stories picking them out of her brain like cotton candy and he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see it and he couldn’t appreciate her the way she deserved to be.

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night,” the words passed through Spencer’s lips as Y/N crossed through the doorway and began to unwind his purple scarf from her neck.

“Sitting in the dark quoting Eleonora?” Y/N questioned, eyeing him through the shadows of the apartment, usually she was able to keep up with his strange language of phrases and quotes but this was different, “Are you going for a Poe thing today? Just promise me you won’t run off and go marry your thirteen year-old cousin.”

He twitched slightly at her words, beginning to recognize how strange he was being but continued sitting on the couch solemnly watching her in a passive attempt to memorize the way she moved and spoke as if he could ever forget it.  

Spencer could barely see the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly before she moved to join him on the couch, taking a similar position to where she had sat the other night, “Are you okay?”

“Are you leaving?” he asked suddenly, regretting the fact that he couldn’t add “me” to the end of the sentence. For all the years they had spent in that apartment together he still couldn’t claim her in that capacity. If she left, she wouldn’t be leaving him, she would simply be leaving.

“What?” Y/N asked in genuine curiosity, perched on her knees on the couch facing him and internally begging him to do the same.

“Are you leaving to go to New York?” he rephrased the question. Something in him burned and wanted out. He was mad and tired. Mad and tired with himself for letting them both play house together for seven years while his heart screamed at him to do absolutely anything other than let things keep moving forward as they were.

“What are you talking about?” her voice rose in a similar fashion, exasperation and confusion painting a new expression on her face.

“Are you leaving for your ‘Long nights of writing a story that flows like water till the sun rises and being able to dream of that book while the sun’s away?’” Spencer threw her words back at her with an unwarranted venom.

She traced her words back to their source and tried to catch up to whatever train of thought Spencer was spiraling on, “Are you talking about my emails with that New York publishing guy who keeps begging me to work for him?”

Spencer’s silence reverberated through the room giving Y/N a fair impression of the truth, “He emails me a couple times a year, I was just being polite. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him no,” he finally turned to her eyes brightly lit with a fire she couldn’t place. A fire that was blazing and passionate, but laced with anger.

“I’m going to!” she stood from the couch and began to pace, as if she could retrace his steps this way, “God, Spence. Why are you so mad?”

“I’m mad because you lied to me,” he scraped the bottom of the barrel finding anything he could blame her for in an attempt to settle the fire that raged inside him, “You told me this was enough. You told me that you didn’t mind spending your days with me and Annabel!”

Y/N shook her head aimlessly gawking at whatever deranged story he was trying to tell himself.

“But-” Spencer paused momentarily to dampen down the flames escaping him, “You told him that you were tempted by his offer. That you wanted ‘long nights writing and sleeping all day.’”

His eidetic memory misquoted the words, striking a match against Y/N’s exasperation, “And since you read my emails, you should know that I also told him that was what I wanted when I was twenty-four. Look around you, Spencer. Neither of us is twenty-four anymore!”

She scoffed slightly before saying the words that finally drove him to his breaking point, “I mean for fuck’s sake, Spencer. You have a seven-year-old daughter now.”

“You’re right,” whatever was boiling inside of him came to a simmer, “I do have a daughter. A daughter who has become so attached to you that she wants you to be her mother and she deserves a mother like you but I know sure as hell I can’t ask that of you.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N called out running a hand through her already tousled hair, “is that what this is all about? You feeling guilty about wanting me to be Annabel’s mom?”

“No, no-” he cut her off suddenly, voice tainted with desperation, “I feel guilty because I want you to be my wife!”

~~~~

Whoever said that first kisses were electric was terribly wrong. If anything it was magnetic. Once they started falling into each other they couldn’t stop, every emotion tearing through their bodies simultaneously. Every passion and reservation that had been so delicately balanced between them came crashing down. Their lips locked again and again barely leaving time for breath as their magnetic force pulled them back together again and again. Y/N had a thousand thoughts racing through her head, a thousand questions she wanted to ask but any slight inclination she had to pull away from Spencer was immediately stifled by the crashing wave of another kiss.

Spencer pulled her closer and closer to him until he was pulling her up towards his own lips wanting every touch, every breath to be shared leaving no room for the space they had both continually put between each other. Her fingers twisted in his hair desperately holding on to the very real feel of him in her hands. The eager push and pull of their bodies wasn’t particularly conducive to balance it seemed, as they tumbled onto the couch in an awkward bundle of intertwined limbs. They were one. They were whole and even without words they both knew they were in love.

No one ever mentioned how exhausting it was. The emotional overload and frenzied limbs making quick work of all remaining energy and stamina. They slowed together melting into a collective mess of rapid heartbeats and heated breaths. Melding together into a ball of love on the couch. Spencer leaned his forehead to hers, taking solace in the moment he knew would be forever seared into both of their minds.

“Do you know-” he heaved a heavy breath out, “how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Sixteen years,” she gave her own answer to the question, finding it rang true when he smiled and pulled her impossibly closer to him.

His laughter gentle and pleasant, leaving his mouth in warm breaths and dancing on the side of her check, as they both relished in the weight that had left their chests and hearts, “I’ve loved you for so long, so stupidly long.”

“Me too,” her hand brushed through his soft curls as she examined him in this new context. 

“I loved you when you decided to read the entire Harry Potter series in a weekend,” his paused to interject his words with soft kisses trailing up her arm, “I loved you when you sat with my mom and talked about Margery Kempe for three hours straight,” another kiss, “I loved you when you sent me letters from Nevada everyday for a year,” he had made it to the top of her shoulder, “I loved you when I saw you hold my daughter in your arms for the first time,” Spencer planted a kiss in the crook of her neck and sent a shiver through her entire body, “I have loved you every single day since I first saw you sitting on campus against a willow tree with a pile of books.”

He pulled back from her to look into her eyes, “I have wanted this for so long. I don’t know what you want now or what you’re ready for in terms of a relationship but whatever you want, whenever you want it just let me know and I will give you the entire world.”

Her hand was soft and smooth when she brought it to the side of his face and finally whispered, “I want to be your wife.”

A familiar light sparkled in his eyes with liveliness and all the spontaneity Spencer Reid could manage.

“Well let’s go then,” in a swift movement she hadn’t been remotely anticipating, Spencer scooped from the couch and pulled them both up with her in his arms. She yelped in surprise at her new position and Spencer’s ability to carry her like this.

“What are you doing?” Y/N cried out with a laugh as he began to carry her towards his room.

“We’re getting married,” he laughed, the playful light in his eyes shimmering with even more brightness.

“In your bedroom?”

“No,” he crossed into the room and set her on his bed before looking over his shoulder at her, “This is just a pit stop.”

“A pit stop?” she echoed voice still light and her smile apparent in her tone.

“There’s something I want to get for you,” Spencer trailed of slightly as he began rummaging through his things. Y/N pushed herself up from the bed to get a better view of what he was doing. Eventually he pulled a small velvet box from a drawer and tossed it to her. 

In a miraculous display of coordination, Y/N caught it and held the small box in her hands with a slight tilt to her head, “What is this?”

“Open it,” he leaned against the dresser watching her with a careful gaze.

Sending him one last questioning gaze, Y/N eased the box open to reveal a golden ring with a red gemstone set in the middle of it, “I still don’t understand.”

“It was my grandmother’s,” Spencer began to explain, “My mom gave it to me a little after you moved here, she said she thought I might need it.”

“Seven years ago?” she asked.

“Seven years ago,” he nodded, “She’s always believed there was something between us.”

Y/N studied him doing her best to make sense of the words he was sharing with her, “Well, I guess she wasn’t wrong there.”

Her eyes trailed down to the ring, the red gem sending bits of light bouncing around in the box.

“You don’t have to take it,” Spencer started, “We don’t have to do anything right now or ever for that matter. I just-”

Y/N shook her head slightly and stood bringing the box with her, “I already told you, I want to marry you.”

The corner of his smile leaped up again as he took the box from her and pulled the ring from its place. Slowly, as if he still expected her to change her mind, he took Y/N’s left hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

“I like that,” he whispered to the quiet between them.

She smiled down at the ring on her finger, “Me too.”

~~~~

“When I decided to use a surrogacy program to have my Annabel I did so because I thought I would never meet the love of my life. I was right, in a way. I had already met her.”

The sun was warm on everyone’s skin but the breeze managed to cool everything to a comfortable temperature. It wasn’t exactly a speech but Spencer still managed to speak with a clear and confident quality to the large table of people at the party. It mostly consisted of BAU members, past and present, with a few family members dotted here and there but it was just right. 

The party had been Garcia’s idea. There was little point in anything too formal when Spencer and Y/N had eloped the night after they confessed but seeing everyone they cared about gathered in one space with pleasant easy grins on their faces was absolutely worth it. 

He smiled to everyone but his eyes locked on hers as he continued, “I did the whole family thing a little bit backwards, having a baby, then watching you become my daughter’s mother and now marrying you. It’s a little strange but I can’t find the energy to care when it got us here.”

Y/N beamed up at him, the sun and his words warming her heart to an easy glow. 

“I love you and I’m so glad we finally got here,” he finished with a bright smile on his face. Y/N stood and leaned in to kiss him with as much love and joy as she could manage here in front of their friends and families.

“I love you too,” she said, cupping his face in her hands.

“And-” Y/N looked down at Annabel standing between them, “I love you with my whole heart forever and always.”

[giftofwonder]

Psychosis - Dabi/Hawks/Bakugou x f!Reader (Part 6)

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, sexual content

Tag List: @sylum @iiashleysykes @bebetiny @valentinesnightmares1

You checked the clock every few minutes, unsure if the quickly passing time was filling you with excitement or dread as your mind drifted to the Halloween party. You reasoned it would be good to get to know the staff, both for your time at work as well as outside of it. Perhaps you’d hit it off and leave with a few friends, but you knew there was also a high chance it could go the other direction.

They all had established relationships, and coming in as an outsider left a large margin for error. In any job you’d had, there was always a high school element to it. Everyone had their clique, grouped off together, and the last thing you wanted was to be outcasted from the get-go.

You had fared well on the clock, but there were plenty of ways to open up lines of communication at the asylum. Once you had removed yourself from it, you had no real idea where to go. Even those you worked with daily spoke little of their personal lives or hobbies, and you knew that meant you had no real common ground to work off of. It would just be a shot in the dark.

“Can’t believe I got roped into going to that shitty party again.” Bakugou grumbled to himself as he sat beside you, filing off his daily paperwork with a frown on his face.

“Are you really just going because I am?” You asked, restocking the supplies at the desk.

“Yep. Have to babysit.” He said, throwing you a blank stare. You had managed to mute thoughts of the events that happened the day prior in the shower stall enough to hold a conversation, which you were thankful for.

“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own.” You said with a sigh, feeling a pang of guilt. You honestly would be much happier if he came since he was the most familiar to you, but you didn’t want to be a bother. If he was only planning to come for your sake, you’d rather he just stay home so you didn’t have to feel as though you were putting him out.

“It’s fine, I’m sure those idiots would have gotten me over there some way or another. They do every year.” He groaned, rubbing a hand though his wild blond hair, finally turning to fully face you.

“Okay, if you say so.” You said with a shrug. He didn’t seem to be too deeply bothered at least, so you figured it best to let it go. Maybe he secretly did want to attend the party and was using you as a cover, unwilling to admit his interest in it.

“Are you wearing a costume?” You asked after a few moments of silence. Bakugou wordlessly grabbed the hem of his scrub top, pulling it up to show a “this is my Halloween costume” tee shirt below.

“Seriously?” You asked with a chuckle, and he blinked angrily at you.

“Yeah, there a fucking problem with it?” He sneered, quickly pulling his shirt down and crossing his arms.

“No, not at all, it’s great! Really captures your essence.” You laughed, and he rolled his eyes dramatically before pushing himself to stand.

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than having to stand around in some tacky get-up all night.” He said.

“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of fun.” You shrugged, offering him a light smile.

“Whatever you say. I’m done here, are you ready to head out?” Bakugou asked, grabbing his jacket off of the chair and throwing it on.

“Go on ahead, I’m just about done. Just have to drop something off real quick.” You told him, picking up your bag and giving a small wave as he nodded before walking over to enter the elevator.

Your sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as you headed down the empty hall. It was almost eerie in a way, dim fluorescent lights buzzing as a gentle rain fell from darkened skies, tapping against the windows.

You unlocked the door in front of you, stepping into the room. You found Dabi already asleep in his bed, the covers wound around his body as his light snores filled the room.

You took out a book, setting it on his dresser, along with a small piece of candy, before turning and heading back out. You made your way down the floors, exiting the building to step out into the crisp night air.

______________

Your car came to a stop in front of a large home, looking more like some mansion you’d see on TV. The decorations in the yard were over the top, and you saw a sign for a haunted maze out back.

You checked your GPS again, just to make sure you were in the right spot, before turning off the vehicle. You sat there, taking deep breaths as you contemplated driving away and heading home.

The idea of walking into a coworker’s home felt unnerving, especially with it being one you hadn’t even met yet. You watched people smoke on the porch, thankful that it seemed like most people were in costume. You looked down at yourself feeling self conscious, before looking up and hoping to spot a familiar face.

When none were to be found, you sighed, giving yourself a silent pep talk as you willed yourself out of the car and up the winding stepping stones to the front door. You could hear the music and laughter from outside, see the flashing lights through the large windows, and you tried to ignore the nausea that was settling in your stomach.

Those on the porch moved aside, allowing you to pass through. Your hand grabbed the large brass handle, pulling open the heavy oak door and stepping inside. You entered slowly, looking around at the beautiful detailing of the home and the groups of people drinking and dancing, finding yourself horribly uncomfortable. Perhaps you should have asked to ride with Bakugou instead of coming on your own.

You let your feet carry you through the rooms until you finally stumbled on the kitchen. It was less crowded, though there were still people present. You walked forward, looking over the treats set up on the marble island, before feeling a hand slide along your lower back.

“You know, I had prayed this morning that I’d find myself an angel, but I guess a goddess will do, too.” The man grinned, his body pressed firmly against yours.

You wanted to laugh at how quickly you had regretted your costume. You had thought it would be easy and comfortable, a white dress that mimicked a Greek toga with its drapery, sandals and golden jewelry. Now you wished you’d chosen a ghost so you could throw a sheet over your head and disappear.

“Good to know, but I’m alright. Thanks.” You said, pushing his hand away and taking a step back, finally able to look at him. He was dressed up as Dr. Aizawa and you stared at him in disbelief. You weren’t sure if the accuracy of the costume made it better or worse, but it definitely left you speechless.

“Ah, come on. Don’t be like that.” He pouted, stepping up to you again and you could smell the liquor on his breath.

“The fuck did I just tell you?” You heard Bakugou’s annoyed voice call out, and not a second later he was behind you, reaching past to give the man a hard shove to the chest.

“Ignore him.” Bakugou said quietly to you. It was only then that he seemed to look at you and realize who you were. He seemed to freeze in place for a minute as he stared at you, before he blinked and walked ahead to the other man.

You didn’t fail to notice that he had on a proper costume. In place of the tee shirt he had presented to you earlier, he wore a pirate’s outfit instead. Black boots and harem style pants, with a loose white blouse that had a wide and ruffled v-neck collar, and a fake sword strapped to his hip. He even had on a bandana underneath his hat.

“Do you always have to be such a buzzkill?” The Aizawa impersonator muttered, glaring at his friend.

“Yes. Aren’t you with Jirou anyways? Shouldn’t you try to keep it in your pants?” Bakugou scolded the man, before turning his attention to you.

“This is Sparky, he’s the electrician.” He introduced you.

“I’m Denki Kaminari, and as of this morning I am officially single.” He told you, shooting you a pair of finger guns. You weren’t sure if the appropriate response was to simply walk away, but you debated it strongly before Kirishima came up to your side.

“Hey! I’m glad you could make it, you look great.” He said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks, you do too.” You told him, taking in his rocker costume. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see him wear clothing like that outside of work, it seemed to fit him well.

“Have you gotten the chance to meet anyone new yet?” He asked, leaning in to make sure you heard him over the loud music.

“Yeah, just him.” You said, pointing to Denki.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Here, follow me, I’ll take you around to everyone.” He smiled, taking your hand and pulling you off around the home. Bakugou and Denki followed along, joining as you were introduced to a large majority of the staff present.

Kirishima told you that there were some others you’d have to wait to meet, mainly those who were working tonight and couldn’t make it to the party. That was fine by you, you were just thankful to be able to put names to faces now.

For the next hour or so, you tagged along with their group, chatting and snacking. Bakugou stayed fairly close to you, while he didn’t speak much aside from casting out insults at the group, his company was pleasant. Him being with you had made the night go a lot smoother and you were thankful he had decided to come.

“We’re going to go out on the back patio and play some games.” Denki informed you as he and Kirishima stood to leave. You and Bakugou wished them luck, staying put.

“Are you having a good time?” You asked, and he shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It isn’t a shit show like it was last year, but I’m still ready to go home.” He told you, letting his head fall back onto the couch you were both sitting on.

“Katsuki, don’t tell me you’re nodding off already.” A voice called out, causing you both to look to the side. You saw a woman with pink hues to her skin skipping over, a large smile on her face. The short dress of her fairy costume rode up as she plopped on the other side of the couch beside Bakugou.

“Hey, I’m Mina. You’re the new doctor up on Level Three, right?” She said warmly, holding out her hand.

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, giving it a shake.

After that, Mina prattled on about her day and things involving their friend group. Bakugou listened and responded to her, but you didn’t really feel any room to cut in. That sense of awkwardness came rushing back, like you had been forced out of the circle as quickly as you had entered it. Mina had seemed nice, but they had a deeper friendship, one with inside jokes and long-winded stories. You were still a stranger, and while you had debated sitting idle as they spoke, you were restless to leave.

“I think I’m going to go see how the others are doing.” You told Bakugou, and he shot you a look that you couldn’t quite read.

“Oh! Tell them I said hi, I’ll catch up with them in a few.” Mina grinned, giving you a small wave, her hands hooking around Bakugou’s arm as she went on to another topic.

You made your way through the maze of the house, stepping onto the back porch to find Dr. Aizawa having a stare down with his imposter. You looked between the two men before walking to stand beside Kirishima.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dr. Aizawa, clad in a long cape and velvet red vest, asked Denki.

“I do not know what you are inquiring about.” Denki said, straightening his long white coat, keeping his voice low and monotonous.

“This is ridiculous.” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you could see a fang glint in the dim moonlight as he spoke. You had to admit, you probably couldn’t have pictured your supervisor as a vampire, but he really fit the role.

“I’ll say, truly I don’t have time for your antics. I am a very busy man.” Denki said, turning his nose up and walking past your superior while you and Kirishima tried extremely hard to withhold your giggles.

“I don’t even know why I bothered actually coming here.” You heard Aizawa mumble to himself.

“He’s never shown up for a party before, this is the first time. Denki figured he’d never know if he went as him since none of us ever expected Aizawa to show.” Kirishima leaned in to you to whisper, and you nodded thoughtfully.

Aizawa spotted the two of you and walked over, his eyes glancing around the backyard as he strolled.

“So, doc, what made you decide to join us?” Kirishima beamed.

“Dr. Mic and I had made a bet. I lost, clearly.” He said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Didn’t realize you were a gambling man.” Kirishima chuckled, scratching his head.

“As of today, I’m officially retired. I held a long winning streak, it was a good run.” He gave a small smile, nodding to you before walking off and exiting through the back gate.

Denki walked over to the two of you wearing a cheeky grin as he watched Aizawa leave.

“Do you think since he’s a vampire, we had to invite him inside to get him to stay?”

__________________

Bakugou pushed himself off the couch, preparing to go look for you all, sure that you’d have gotten yourselves into some trouble by now.

Mina clung to his side, chatting away and following as he walked. As the pair passed the stairwell, Mina’s hands grabbed Bakugou’s wrist, giving him a tug toward her.

“You want to go upstairs? It’s kind of nice having you all to myself for once.” She said, a coy smile on her face.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said gruffly, trying to pull his hand back.

“Oh, come on. We have been friends since high school. Just hang out with me for a little longer, plus it’ll be quiet upstairs.” She begged, and Bakugou’s head fell back as he groaned, allowing her to guide him up.

_____________

Kirishima and Denki had run off to do the haunted maze, leaving you alone once more. You walked around the grounds, shivering in the cold breeze. It wasn’t entirely unenjoyable though, Momo’s home was amazing. The garden was large with a fountain, black lights secured around its structure which illuminated the fog that seemed to seep out from the water.

Large stone statues decorated the area, and they had been covered in webbing, some tombstones placed in front to make it look like a graveyard. You could tell why everyone wanted to come, she really went all out.

It made you think back to your small apartment, how many of your things seemed crammed into the space. Nothing you owned came close to the lavish decor of Momo’s house. You hoped one day, that would change. You didn’t need anything this fancy, but it would be nice to have a place to call your own and decorate it with nice furniture. Have the extra space for an office or a library, have a yard to decorate for the holidays. A place to start a family in. You didn’t see that happening anytime soon, but it was what you were working toward hopefully.

You were broken from your musings as you spotted Midoriya sitting on a bench in the garden. He was dressed in a homemade scarecrow costume, and you raced over to him enthusiastically.

“Your costume is so cute!” You said, a large smile plastered on your face. He jumped at your sudden approach, before relaxing and patting the seat beside him.

“You think so? I wasn’t really sure what to come as, so my mom told me she’d make me something. I had thought it would maybe be a superhero or at least something more on the spooky side.” He told you, glancing down at the hay that poked out of the bottom of his sleeves.

“No, you look good! I promise.” You said, and you meant it. If there had been some jack-o-lanterns around, you could place them by his feet and he’d look like an autumn decoration right out of a catalog.

“Thanks, you look nice too.” He said, scratching his head.

You both sat and talked, and you were reminded once again of how easy he was to be around. It came so naturally, as if you had been friends for years. He was open and unguarded, and exceptionally kind. You rubbed your arms, your chilled skin feeling numb the longer you stayed out, but you were absorbed in your conversation and paid it little mind. Midoriya, however, seemed to notice and was quick to pull off his jacket and offer it to you. You took it, slipping on the warm garment and giving him a thanks.

________________

“You’re so boring!” Mina sighed exasperated as she turned a playful glare toward Bakugou. He had sprawled out in a chair inside of Momo’s study while Mina paced in front of him, naming off things to do, trying to persuade him into playing a game.

“How much longer are you going to keep rambling?” He groaned, shooting her a pointed look.

“Until you agree to something!” She huffed, hands on her hips.

“Then quit picking shit I’m not interested in.” He rolled his eyes.

A devilish smirk appeared as she slowly sauntered toward him, her knees touching his. He stared at her blankly, scowling as she reached behind her back.

“Maybe this will excite you a little more then.” She hummed, fingers gripping the zipper of her dress, pulling it swiftly and letting the fabric fall away from her body. Her eyes were catlike as he watched him.

He pushed himself to stand, and they were chest to chest. Her arms reached up, grabbing his shoulders before sliding them down and letting them encircle around his back.

“So, what do you think?” She whispered seductively.

“I think you should get dressed.” He said coldly, eyes ahead as he pushed her arms off of him and stepped around her to make his way to the door.

She stared at him in shock, her heart clenching as she watched him leave the room, shutting the door behind him and never turning back. Hot tears filled her eyes as she reached down, grabbing her discarded dress from the floor and hastily pulling it up.

She stormed out, planning to confront him. She made her way down, heading to the back porch where she knew the rest of her friends would be. She spotted Kirishima and Denki, walking on tipsy feet toward the house while Bakugou stood farther out, glancing into the gardens before abruptly turning and stomping off.

Mina crossed the grounds quickly, peering to where Bakugou had been looking, and spotted Midoriya talking to you. She put everything together quickly, feeling bitterness bubble up inside herself.

She turned and left, marching back inside to find Ochako. It didn’t take long, she was sitting and chatting with Momo in the living room, both girls speaking excitedly.

“Hey Ochako? Do you think there’s anything going on with Deku and the new girl?” Mina asked innocently.

“No, why?” Ochako asked, her brows raised in confusion.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just saw them out in the garden together. They were sitting pretty close and she’s wearing his jacket, so I just thought-“

“I’m sorry, she’s what!?” Ochako said, jumping to her feet, her cat tail swaying behind her as she ran off out of the room.

“What’d the new girl do to get in your bad graces?” Momo asked with a laugh.

“Nothing, just reporting what I saw.” Mina said with a shrug, her lips pulling upward as she spoke.

“You’re terrible.” Momo sighed, standing up to walk with her friend.

“It happens.”

__________________

“Deku! I didn’t know you were here!” A melodic voice called, and you saw Ochako running toward the two of you. You smiled as she approached, giving a small wave that went ignored.

“It’s good to see you, too.” She said to you, a tight smile as she stopped in front of where you sat.

It was painfully obvious she was unhappy with you, her gaze hardening as she looked in your direction, though Midoriya seemed fully unaware. You were reminded again of the cliques in high school, and you felt in that moment that you had gotten on the bad side of one, though you weren’t really sure what your offense was.

You slid Midoriya’s jacket off, handing it back with a thanks as you excused yourself, wanting to get away before you somehow created a bigger disturbance.

You sighed as you headed back into the house, the warm air greeting you immediately. You glanced around, spotting Bakugou in the other room. As you made your way towards him, he looked over at you and you could see the irritation in his stare. His eyes grew cold when they locked on to you. It gave you pause, and as he looked away, laughing at something else someone must have said, you felt yourself frozen in place. Maybe it was time to go home.

You turned, set on going the long way around and sneaking out the front door, but hands grabbed your arms and tugged you into the kitchen.

Mina and Momo stood there, smiling warmly as they asked you to come and talk, wanting to get to know you better. You nodded, apprehensive, but took a seat regardless. With the way the evening had been going, saying you were suspicious was an understatement.

They passed you a drink, pouring themselves one as well, before asking mundane questions. How did you like the job? How did you hear about the asylum? What’s working with Aizawa like?

You answered their questions, throwing out a few of your own. You wondered if maybe you had misjudged them, nothing had really seemed malicious like you originally thought.

“So, anyone you like at work?” Momo asked, leaning forward as she passed another drink over to you.

“Beyond friendship? No, not really. Everyone is nice, but I wouldn’t say I’m interested in anyone.” You shrugged, the shared glance between the two woman not going unnoticed. Everything in your body fired off the signal that you were not safe, and so you excused yourself, the girls waving goodbye as you stood on shaky legs.

You regretted throwing back as many drinks as you had, wondering how much alcohol was in them as you felt the room slightly spin. Normally, you handled your liquor well enough, and you almost wondered if they’d have spiked your drink, but you had watched them pour each one and drink from the same bottle. Plus, that was an action that could lead to getting charged were they to get caught, you doubted they’d put themselves in that kind of a high of risk situation.

You stumbled around the house, your legs feeling weaker as the minutes passed, and you used the wall to keep balance as you tried to make your way to the front door. You knew you couldn’t drive, but maybe you could just start the car and pass out in the back seat. It seemed like the safer bet, you definitely weren’t going to stay overnight in the house. You didn’t trust anyone enough for that.

You made your way through the yard, walking down the long driveway toward your car. Once it was within reach, you almost collapsed against the hood, unsteady hands supporting your tired body.

“You shouldn’t drive.” You heard a monotone voice call out. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Todoroki quickly walking over to you.

“I’m not, just gonna sleep in the backseat.” You said, speech beginning to slur against your will. He blinked at you before taking the keys from your hand and placing them inside of his pocket.

“You should go home instead. Give me your address, I’ll drop your car off to you when I leave.” He said, pulling out his phone.

“Was this whole party just some elaborate scheme to steal my car?” You whispered to yourself, your hazy mind trying to understand everything that had happened.

“No, I guarantee you I have no need for your vehicle. My driver dropped me off, and I don’t plan on drinking. I can run it over to you and just get picked up from there. I just thought it would be a better alternative to anything else, though you’re welcome to leave it here overnight.” He said, glancing around.

“We’re almost strangers.” You reasoned, and he shrugged, holding your keys out toward you.

“Almost. However, we do work together and your boss is my father. It would be unwise for me to just take off with it.” He said, and your hand paused from grabbing the keys.

You pictured Midoriya talking about Todoroki, how highly he had spoke of him. While a few words from a coworker normally wouldn’t mean much, he trusted Shouto, and you felt you could trust Midoriya without a shadow of a doubt. Also, the notion of staying here, or leaving your car, were unsettling. You didn’t know if they’d mess with you but you’d rather not risk it.

Your arm fell limply to your side as you nodded, spouting off your address to him as you let your body slide down to the ground, sitting there calmly.

“Where’s your costume?” You asked him, looking up at his scrubs.

“I’m wearing it. I came as an intern that works at an asylum.” He said, giving you a small smile, before raising his phone to his ear and making a call.

You let your eyes fall closed, your head leaning on your car as you took deep and even breaths. Being outside was helping to sober you up somewhat, but the thought of trying to navigate home felt impossible. You had Shouto pop your trunk, letting you grab your wallet and a sweater.

“The fuck do you want, half and half?” Bakugou growled.

“Take her home.” He said, pointing down at you. You gave Bakugou a small wave.

“Why should I? She got herself here just fine.” He sneered.

“I seem to recall overhearing from Kirishima that you had come to babysit her. I don’t think you’d be doing a very good job if you allowed her to walk home in this condition.” Todoroki said, stepping around Bakugou to walk up to the house.

Bakugou groaned before looking down at you, demanding that you get up. You pushed yourself off the ground, slowly rising to stand. Once you felt you were steady enough, you turned to face him.

“The hell happened to you? You go and get shit faced while I wasn’t looking?” He grunted, grabbing your arm and throwing it over his shoulder as his hand wrapped around your waist. You leaned into his warmth, smiling as you walked.

“Wasn’t the plan, but looks like it.” You laughed, causing him to roll his eyes.

You told him where you lived, and were thankful he knew the general area as you didn’t trust your own sense of direction. You stumbled as you walked, feeling his arm tighten as he helped you balance.

“Were you mad?” You asked, turning to look up at him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his own feet tripping as he walked, and you could hear the low curses slip from his lips. He was probably a bit tipsy himself, having been enjoying the party until he was forced to deal with you. The guilt you hoped to avoid had found it’s way to you regardless, knowing you had probably ruined what could have been an enjoyable night for him. That realization forced your mouth to remain shut, keeping you from answering his question.

“I’m not mad, tonight was just annoying.” He said, glancing at you briefly before looking forward again.

“But did I do something?” You furrowed your brow, trying to remember when things went wrong. Nothing really came to mind, but the image of him looking at you flashed in your mind once more and you were almost certain then of his anger earlier in the night.

“No, it didn’t have anything to do with you.” He assured you, jaw clenching as he released you. You looked forward and saw you were at your front door. You unlocked it, pushing it open before turning back to look at him.

“Thanks for getting me home safe.” You said, impulsively stepping forward to hug him. He laughed, his arms wrapping around you loosely.

“I told you I’d watch you. Thought you said you wouldn’t get into any trouble.” He smirked and you shrugged.

“I really thought I wouldn’t, it’s a shock to me too.” You told him, turning to step into your house, but you didn’t make it far. Your dress tangled and knocked you off balance, your shoulder hitting your doorframe as you groaned.

“God, you’re a mess.” He said under his breath, laughing as he pulled you away from the wall and guided you into your home.

He led you into your kitchen, helping you into a chair at the table as he bent down, undoing the straps of your sandals and tossing your shoes carelessly to the floor. You wiggled your toes which were beyond numb from the cold.

“Are you going back to the party?” You asked, glancing at him as he looked around the space.

“No, I’ll probably just head home. It’s late, no point in going back just to leave again.” He shrugged, looking back at you.

“Sorry I cut your night short, do you want a drink or anything?” You asked. He gave you an incredulous look before smiling, giving a nod.

You stood, carefully walking to your pantry and pulling out a few bottles. You grabbed a couple glasses and made your way back over, taking extra precautions not to trip or drop anything. You were feeling a lot more clear headed, the fog lifting from your thoughts, but your body was still slightly out of tune with your mind. Bakugou cackled at the deep focus on your face as you set them down, and you smacked his shoulder before letting your body fall back into the chair.

“You sure you really want to drink more?” He asked, popping open a bottle and pouring himself a glass.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I never cut loose, might as well do it tonight. Plus I’m already home at least.” You shrugged, and he reluctantly filled your glass.

The two of you sat and talked, and you were glad whatever happened at the party was not lingering in your conversation now. He joked with you, mocking and teasing, as you told stories from the past.

Eventually, the two of you called it quits, deciding you’d both had enough and should go to bed since you did have to work the next day. You had offered to let him crash on your couch but he had declined saying he’d call himself a cab, and you nodded before resting your head on your table.

“You just gonna pass out there?” He laughed, cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

“Mhm. I can’t walk.” You groaned, the cold table feeling wonderful against your cheek.

“Come on, I’ll get you there.” He shook his head, pulling you to your feet and stumbling with you toward your room.

You made it into the darkened room, and as soon as you reached the bed, you collapsed onto it, breathing a sigh of relief. Your eyes looked up at Bakugou, who’s hand rested at your side, bracing himself against the bed to keep from falling as he hovered above you.

“Well, I better get going.” He decided, pushing himself up, but you were quick to grab his wrist. He looked at you, confused as you held it gently.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as you sat up, your hand slipping down to hold his. His fingers tightened around yours and gave them a small squeeze.

You could hear his voice in the shower echoing through your mind, his soft moans and grunts, and the memory consumed you. The alcohol in your system made the impulse that much stronger, and so against your better judgment you whispered,

“Stay.”

He moved before you could even register it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that knocked the wind out of you. His warm hands gently held the sides of your face, before moving to your hips and pulling you up off the bed.

You let your arms wrap around his neck as he supported your body, turning with you and pressing your back against the wall as he stood himself between your legs.

He broke the kiss, his lips ghosting along your jaw before he buried his face in your neck. His hand gathered the side of your dress, pulling it up and bunching it at your hip until he could grab your thigh. His hand squeezed it before hooking it around his waist, pressing himself impossibly closer to you as he teeth grazed your throat.

You shivered at the feeling, your back arching you into him as he groaned against you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, slipping inside the wide neck of his shirt, pulling it open around his shoulders as he let it slide down his arms and off of his body so that it hung limply around his waist, held in place only by where it was tucked into his pants.

He kissed you again, grinding himself into you as your lip was pulled gently into his mouth. You pulled off his hat and bandana, throwing them to the floor, and wove your hand in his messy hair.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of doing this to you.” He whispered, an almost silent admission, as his hand reached up, kneading your breast before pulling the fabric off of your shoulder and exposing your chest to him. His eyes traced along your body, before he stepped back, pulling the dress off of you completely and letting it pool at your feet.

You reached out and he was quick to pull you against him, hoisting you up as your legs locked around his waist. His hand braced your lower back as he stumbled over to the bed once more, letting himself drop with you onto it.

His hand dove between your legs, brushing the flimsy fabric aside. His thumb rubbed circles against you as your head tilted back, releasing a breathy moan. Your hand grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss along his neck, letting your lips dance gently down to his collarbone.

He crawled between your legs, undoing the waistband of his pants and quickly pushing them down his thighs. Your shaking legs spread further, feeling him rub the head of his cock along your slit, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. Just as he began to push himself into you, he pulled back and stilled, stopping completely.

“Damn it.” He growled, his head leaning down to rest on your chest while his fist hit the bed above you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your mind clouded with arousal.

“You’re drunk.” He spat, pushing himself up to look at you.

“So are you.” You responded, unsure of what was happening.

“I’m not fucking you if you’re out of it.” He said, standing up fully as he climbed off the bed, pulling his pants back in place and sliding his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

You rolled over his words, your tired mind struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of pace. You sighed, eventually nodding sadly.

“I’m gonna go to the living room and cool off, call a cab to get me home.” He told you, turning to leave before stopping, walking back and leaning down to press one last kiss to your lips.

“Next time, when you’re sober, I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk afterwards.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke, before pulling away and walking out of your bedroom.

You pulled the jewelry off of your body, tossing it onto your bedside table before crawling under the covers. You sighed, disappointed and debating on calling for him to come back, but you didn’t. Deep down you were glad that he had enough respect for you to not take advantage of your inebriated state, though you weren’t in the right mind currently to truly appreciate it.

The bed felt colder than usual, too large for just you, but you allowed your eyes to shut, letting your mind fade out with the somber thought that he would be gone by the time you awoke.

[reidgraygubler]

dirty little secret (reid/reader)

Title: dirty little secret

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @/imagining-in-the-margins, but I took it off her hands :) (alskdf that was so hot um could you do where the Reader gets spencer a collar and maybe someone accidentally finds it… okay tysm and it’s totally ok if not <3)

Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader

Category: spicey fluff

Content Warning: D/s dynamic, allusions and mentions to sex, sub!spencer, dom!reader, this does contain some kinda sexual content, no actually nudity or actual sex

Word Count: 1,678

Summary: Reader gets Spencer a super meaningful, and private, gift. All is well… Until a member of the team finds out about it.

A/N: pom posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{**}

“Wait, wait,” I looked down at Spencer, a smile growing across my lips, “I got you something… I think you’ll want to use it right now,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his. He hummed and followed after me when I pulled away from him. I laughed before pushing him back down on the bed. “Stay there.” I pointed at him.

“What is it,” he asked as he watched me climb out of the bed. I tried to be graceful but failed when the sheet came along with me.

“Well, you see, I was just thinking… And, well,” I stopped speaking and went to a paper bag sitting by my dresser. I could hear the bed shift slightly, alerting me that Spencer had sat up.

“Should I be worried?” He asked, watching as I pulled out a piece of tissue paper. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was a thick black band of leather with an ‘O’ ring right in the middle of it. It was perfect. I think it’d suit Spencer perfectly.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you should be worried,” I whispered as I held it up to show off what it was. “I figured it was time to get you one,” I explained as he sat up to look at it. A small smile grew across his lips once he realized what exactly it was I held. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Of course I do!” He reached out to touch the collar. I smiled at him as he carefully took it from my hands. “When were you able to get this?”

“Earlier this week when you stayed late at the office. I told Emily I had to do some errands and well…” My words trailed off as I gestured to the collar he held in his hands. I watched as he looked down at it, his fingers trailed across the leather texture. “I wanted to get you something… And I figured that was the best thing to get,” I whispered as I took it back from him. I stood up from the bed and moved to sit behind him.

“It definitely was the best thing,” Spencer laughed as I put the collar around his neck before fastening it to him.

“How’s that?” I asked in a soft tone. My arms snaked around his body as I rested my head on his shoulder. Spencer hummed as he nodded. “You can breathe just fine?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered and kept nodding. I smiled before moving back around to sit in front of him.

“You’re my good boy, you know that,” I whispered as I lifted my hands to hold his face. The smile that sat on his lips grew as he looked at me. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Spencer replied before moving to press his lips to mine. I hummed happily as I pushed my hands through his hair to hold him closer to me.

{***}{***}{***}

Of course not a week later did we get called out for a case. Whenever there was a case, Spencer and I had to be a little bit sneaky or creative with our… extra-curricular activities. Even if we were dead tired from a full day of work, we still put a little effort into doing something. Although, a scene wouldn’t last too long. We’d get to the point of nudity and then we’d just end up cuddling, which is just as good as the actual sex.

But this… This was not the case. We weren’t on a time crunch for this case. We were allowed to go to the hotel for some rest. Though, rest probably wouldn’t exactly come for me or Spencer...

“You brought it with, correct?” I asked as I kept my voice low as Spencer and I walked side by side down the hall. Spencer glanced at me, an eyebrow raised as if he was saying ‘Yes, ma’am, I did bring it. I’m not an idiot,’. But in turn, I raised my eyebrows. “Good boy,” I cooed before pressing my lips to his cheek.

“I hate you,” he muttered as he pulled the key card out from the paper sleeve.

“Oh, Baby Boy, I don’t think you do.” I smiled as I lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. He glanced at me as he unlocked the door. “I’m going to shower, you get ready for me… Okay,” I whispered once we were both inside.

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer mumbled before pressing my lips to his. I smiled at him with a knowing glance before stepping into the bathroom.

I should have taken my time to get ready. Instead I rushed. I let my excitement of getting off make me rush. I wondered what things would’ve happened had I taken my time. Damn my excitement...

“I hope you listened to me and you’re all ready,” I spoke as I exited the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah… Um, about that,” I could hear Spencer’s voice, but what I wished I heard was the moment of regret in his tone. It was too late as I stepped out from behind the door wearing nothing but my underwear. My eyes first went to him, then our apparent guest to our room. “Luke is here…” his eyes dropped to his lap as he spoke. I stared at him for a moment before looking down at what I was wearing.

“Hey.” Luke looked up at my face as he waved. I knew he was trying his hardest to not let his eyes linger on my body. We were all frozen at this very moment. I know I couldn’t move because of how embarrassing this moment was.

“Kinda wish I was dreaming right now… But I know that this wouldn’t be a dream… It’d be a fucking nightmare,” I lifted my finger as I spoke. I could feel my embarrassment mix with anger the longer I stood in the room wearing just my underwear. I bit my lips before taking a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll be right back,” I pointed at Spencer then at Luke. Luke looked over at Spencer, the apparent embarrassment for all of us growing on both their faces. Although the embarrassment Luke showed wasn’t as bad as what Spencer had...

I quickly went back into the bathroom and went for one of the folded robes sitting on the towel rack. When I was covered in something more than my underwear, I stepped back into the room and noticed Spencer wearing a little more than his boxers.

“What do you want, Luke?” I asked, trying to not let my annoyance be known. But it was so incredibly hard. The moment was already ruined. When he stayed silent, I looked over at Spencer with a raised brow before looking at Luke. “Did you need something, or were you justh ere to fuck with Spencer and me? Because you’re free to leave,” I spoke as I gestured towards the door. Luke stood and walked towards me. I silently thanked God that Luke was leaving…

“Right… I’ll see you later, Spencer,” Luke stated as he turned to look at Spencer. His eyes narrowed as he looked over in Spencer’s direction for a moment too long. “Is… Is that a collar?” he asked, pointing at the object sitting on the nightstand. I looked at Spencer, then over at Luke, then, finally, back at Spencer. My eyes were wide and I could feel a blaze grow across my cheeks.

“Uh… I… Uhm…” I pulled my robe tighter around my body as I looked at Luke. I genuinely couldn’t find anything to say at the moment. But, to be fair, I’ve been dreading this exact moment since Spencer and I started doing… this. “It’s mine,” I cringed as I raised an eyebrow. Luke looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, I believe that…” Luke walked up to me. He patted my shoulder a few times before finally actually leaving. “Listen, I know you two were about to… Ya know…” He let his words trail off as he did a set of crude actions. I rolled my eyes as I looked over at him. “But Emily needs us over at the station soon.” His voice was low as he got further away. “But I’ll just let her know you guys are… busy with other-”

“Just go, Luke… Please,” I lifted a hand to rest over my eyes. I let out a deep sigh before turning to look at him.

“Hope you guys have fun,” Luke looked at me with a smile before leaving. I rushed to the door once he was gone and locked the deadbolt and chain lock.

“Moment’s ruined,” I said to the room. Spencer laughed as I walked over to the bed. He stood from the bed before coming up to my side. “It’s gone. Ruined forever,” I said in a dramatic tone.

“It’s not ruined. We can… Try again when we’re allowed to be here for a while. Or, when we’re back home,” he reassured as he lifted a hand to my shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right… But now all I’ll be able to think about is Luke’s idiot face when I’m fucking you.” I laughed as I looked up at him.

“Oh please, I hope you’d be able to think about me and my-”

“Pretty…”

“Sure, pretty face… Especially when you’re cumming,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.

“Of course!” I shouted and stepped away from him. “Even better when I’ll be riding that pretty face of yours,” I hummed before kissing him again. I really, really liked the thought of that. It was something I really needed at the moment, but it wasn’t going to happen at the moment. Emily needed us… So that moment was going to have to wait.

“I agree though. I think next time will be a little awkward… Now that Luke knows what we’re doing,” Spencer anxiously chuckled.

“Maybe next time we’ll just ask him to join us,” I said before leaving his side to get dressed again.

“Wait… Wait… What?”

{***}{***}{***}

i am currently take a break from a taglist. but if you have any questions or comments, please let me know here!

[bex-la-get]

Stay With Me (Bryce x Sienna)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Sienna Trinh

Word count: 759

Summary: Bryce comes to the rescue when Sienna falls ill.

Rating: T

Category: Fluff. Nothing but fluff.

Author’s Note: Welp. Ya girl caught COVID. And while I would love a Bryce or Ethan to come to my rescue, I am very tragically single. So, to make myself feel better, I wrote fluff! Please forgive any and all mistakes, and please blame them on my COVID brain. Enjoy! 💙

Sienna groaned in discomfort, rolling onto her stomach in bed. She’d been feeling ill for the last few days and today was one of her worst days yet. 

Her friends had done what they could to help her feel better but unfortunately this was just a bug that had to work its way through her system. Nat and Jackie had promised to stop by after work and bring her meds and soup but it was only 1pm and the girls still had at least another 4 hours in their shift.

She rolled over again, this time onto her back, and stared at the ceiling before kicking the covers off and dragging herself into the shower. She hoped the steam would help clear her sinuses; or if nothing else, the shower would help her feel just slightly better. 

When she got out, feeling marginally better than before, she found a new notification on her phone: a text from Bryce.

Sighing, Sienna got dressed and plopped onto the couch, burying herself under the nearby throw blanket and put a baking show on the TV. She had slowly begun to drift off to sleep when there was a light knock at the door.

Pausing the show, she wrapped herself in the blanket and padded over to the door, opening it to find Bryce, his arms full of bags, waiting on the other side.

“Hey you,” he smiled.

She gave him a weak smile in return and stepped aside, letting him enter with his armfuls of bags. He walked by, stopping to give her a soft kiss on the forehead, before making his way to the kitchen.

“Can I help you with any of that?” She asked, closing the door and following behind him.

“No, no, no,” he said, waving her off. “All you need to do is rest. I’ll take care of all this.”

He ushered her back to the couch and kissed her forehead again before stepping back into the kitchen. She settled back in her seat and adjusted the blanket around her, soothed by the sounds of Bryce fumbling around in her kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t need help in there?”

“Babe, I appreciate your concern, but I do know how to work my way around a kitchen,” he replied.

She giggled. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, appearing in the living room with a hot bowl of soup and several utensils in his hand. He smiled at her as he placed it down on the coffee table in front of her. “See? I know how to handle soup.”

She returned his smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

He chuckled. “You had every reason to.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of DayQuils and some cough drops, depositing them onto the coffee table. “Do you want Gatorade or tea?”

“Gatorade, please,” she replied, stirring her soup with her spoon.

Bryce nodded once and disappeared back into the kitchen. As Sienna started to dig into her soup, Bryce returned with her drink and a bowl of soup of his own, plopping down onto the couch next to her. He looked over at her and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He took a bite of his soup and hummed. “I grabbed you two containers of this stuff. The second one is in the fridge.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Bryce.”

He simply smiled in response.

An hour later, their soup bowls were empty and Sienna was curled up into Bryce’s side, his arms wrapped securely around her. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and sighed, contentedly. He smiled and placed a gentle kiss against her forehead.

“I hope I don’t get you sick,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got a really good immune system.”

She chuckled. “If you say so.” Her eyes were fluttering closed and he felt her relax against him.

“I should go,” he whispered. “You need to rest.”

Her hand flew out from underneath the blanket and gripped his arm. She looked up at him, her brown eyes watering. “W-will you stay? I don’t really want to be alone.”

He smiled softly at her and nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you want me, Si.”

“What if I want you to stay forever?” she asked.

He kissed her. “Then I’ll stay forever.”

She smiled and nuzzled herself back into his embrace. Snuggled together on the couch, the two of them fell asleep, Sienna feeling better than she had in days.

A/N: Tagging separately.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 3)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: descriptions of past bullying 

Word Count: 6,816

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.    

It was nearly eleven when you returned to your room later that night, collapsing on your bed in a disgruntled heap. You barely had enough energy to change out of your clothes and shower, though you forced yourself to do so, if only for the sake of appearances.

Noelle was already asleep, so she didn’t have the presence of mind to grill you, but her questions came as soon as you woke up the next morning. Seated at a table in the coffee shop on the corner, you opened your yogurt and spilled your frustrations.

“So, that’s where I am,” you said, shaking your head when you reached the end of the story. “Miss Britt pulled me aside and I need to find someone to tutor me, fast. Fun times.”

“That’s bullshit.” Noelle looked outraged. “You’re clearly one of the best dancers at Russet! It’s why Sabrina has such a problem with you. She knows you’re competition.”

“Thanks,” you said, a bit glum. “But Miss Britt is right – I’m no ballerina. I need more practice if I want to catch up to the rest of class.”

“But you don’t even want to be in Russet’s ballet company! You’re a talented dancer outside of that specific genre.”

“True. But if I can’t make it through freshman year, that doesn’t really matter – does it?”

Noelle fell silent for a moment, not having a response as you sighed.

“It’s not like I expect you to have a solution,” you admitted. Scooping another bite of yogurt from your parfait, you shoved this in your mouth. “It’s my problem to figure out.”

Noelle leaned back. “Maybe you should take Miss Britt’s suggestion,” she said.

You gave Noelle a look of such open disgust, she had to laugh.

“I’m serious!” She grinned, taking a sip of her coffee. “Obviously, Sabrina’s the worst, but you could ask Jimin. Is he really as bad as you say?”

“That all depends,” you mused. “Is Satan as bad as they say?”

“Never met him, so I can’t be sure.”

“Well, I have met Jimin and can definitively say he’s the worst. If I went to him for help, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hm.” Noelle sounded skeptical to you; she clearly thought you were exaggerating, but this was one subject on which you were unwilling to budge. “Maybe you can ask someone else, then. An older student? Oo – you could ask Seokjin! He’s so hot.”

Perked up by this idea, you casually stirred your coffee. “You know what, that’s not a bad idea. He’s super talented and clearly knows what the teachers are looking for.”

“See!” Noelle set down her fork. “You have plenty of options.”

“You might be right,” you said with a smile.

Feeling marginally better about the whole situation, you pulled out your phone to search Russet’s website for Seokjin. All the teacher’s assistants had a web page where they offered private lessons, much like Miss Britt and other teachers. Unfortunately for you though, all of Seokjin’s slots were full.

This seemed to be the case with most upperclassmen and you sighed, standing from the table to clear your place. Discouraged by this, you threw your phone in your bag while you left the shop. Noelle began suggesting other students she knew while you walked to class, but you had already begun to fixate on what was probably a terrible idea.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized Miss Britt’s initial suggestion made sense. Sabrina was frustrating, but she knew all the teachers and had the most training of your class in classical ballet. True, you hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but you’d played a part in that, too. The first night you met, you didn’t have to be a dick to her.

Most importantly, you didn’t have the same history with Sabrina that you did with Jimin. Jimin had been your rival since day one – it’d take more than some halfhearted peace offering to make him forget that. Your relationship with Sabrina was new enough you still had hope it could change.

Besides, you already knew she did morning barre on days off from class. Surely, she wouldn’t say no if you asked to tag along. Cheered by this thought – you were the type of person who enjoyed having a plan – you perked up, chatting eagerly with Noelle as you walked to class.

Wednesday ballet was held by Mr. Jordan, the only teacher at Russet who was routinely late to class. Only by five minutes, but you found it remarkable how consistently he hit this deadline. The rest of the class arrived fifteen minutes early regardless – better to be consistently early than to be late the one week Mr. Jordan wasn’t, and be banished to the hall.

You and Noelle entered at 8:50 AM, setting your bags on the ground to stake out your place at the barre. You were midway across the room when you saw Sabrina and paused.

Her pointe shoes were already on, doing slow relevés at the barre in the center. You hesitated only a moment before turning to Noelle.

“I’m going to do barre over there today,” you said, nodding in Sabrina’s direction. “See you after, okay?”

Noelle looked up in alarm, but you had already turned, halfway across the floor. When you reached Sabrina, you set your bag down and took a long sip of water.

Sabrina ignored you, placing one leg on the barre to bend at the waist. You waited a moment for her to rise and when she did not, set your hand on the barre.

“Hey,” you said, waiting for a response.

Sabrina didn’t react.

Moving to stand opposite, you lifted your leg to place beside her own. Stretching an arm overhead, you leaned forward until your face was mere inches away.

“How’s your morning?” you said, trying your best to be pleasant.

Sabrina released a long, slow sigh. 

“Good.”

You waited, but she said nothing more and, feeling kind of stupid, you glanced over your shoulder. Noelle remained at your usual spot by the door. You were momentarily tempted to leave and join her, but then you remembered what Miss Britt had said. You needed a tutor.

You could do this. You had made it to Russet Academy, dammit – asking Sabrina to help couldn’t be more difficult than fifteen years of ballet class.

“Do you have a second?” you said, lowering your voice. “I wanted to ask you something.”

After another long pause, Sabrina raised her head. “What?”

She sounded curious at least, which you supposed was a start. Even if said curiosity didn’t extend to her lowering her leg, or even her voice.

“Uh…” You blinked, your nervousness rising. If Sabrina said no, it would be absolutely humiliating. “I know you’ve been training at Russet longer than most people in our class.”

Sabrina stared. “And?”

You bit down on your lip to keep from saying something you’d regret. Clearly, Sabrina wasn’t going to make this easy on you and again, you wondered if this was a bad idea. You reminded yourself that you’d committed to doing whatever was necessary to keep your spot at Russet.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but ballet isn’t really my dance style.” Ignoring the small smirk she gave, you continued. “I know it’s yours though, so I was wondering if you’d be open to practicing together sometime. You know, maybe you could give me some pointers.”

Sabrina looked at you a long moment, then lowered her leg. Bending lithely at the waist, she grasped her water bottle to take a casual swig. She remained silent the entire time, forcing you to stand there and watch. To stand there and wait while she considered your proposition.

The kernel of humiliation within you grew even further.

Sabrina turned her head. “Do you know what my mom said to me when I told her I wanted to dance professionally?”

You blinked, not having expected this as a response. It wasn’t an actual answer to your question, so you tried not to sound annoyed when you said, “Uh, no.”

Sabrina arched a brow. “She said there wasn’t much room for women at the top.”

“She… huh?”

“Success is a zero-sum game.” Sabrina spoke slowly, as one would to a child. “There are fifteen spots offered at the end of our four-year program. If you get one, that means there’s one less spot for me at the table. Why would I help when it’s to my best interest not to?”

For a moment you could only stare at her, open-mouthed.

“See?” Sabrina set her water bottle down. “You can’t even think of a good reason. Maybe you weren’t a ballerina before, but you were a dancer. You know how competitive this field is, especially for women.”

An uncomfortable feeling spread through you. Sabrina’s words were remarkably similar to what you had said to Jimin but still, you hated hearing them thrown back in your face.

“You don’t think this is all a little… juvenile?” you said, a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation. “This isn’t high school anymore, Sabrina. We’ve all made it.”

“Yeah – to Russet,” she said, point blank. “This is barely the start if you want to dance professionally, Y/N. It’s nothing against you personally, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Oh, good. As long as it’s not personal.”

Sabrina smirked. “Well, maybe it’s a little personal. Like I said to you yesterday, I really wouldn’t mind having Jimin for a partner. If you got kicked out, that would solve things, wouldn’t it?”

Teeth gritted, you stopped the next words from leaving your mouth. They hung on the tip of your tongue, stillborn while you pointedly shoved them back down. If you said anything more to her, you might seriously regret it and Sabrina wasn’t worth that kind of stress to you now.

Turning around, you bent to pick up your bag – only to stop as Mr. Jordan entered the room.

“Sorry I’m late, class!” he said, shaking free from his jacket. “Subway was a nightmare. Anyways, I’m here now, so let’s start.”

Realizing you were stuck, you slowly turned back around. It seemed your place at the barre had been decided. Sabrina hid her smile when you took a step closer, placing one hand on the barre and lifting your chin in the air.

It had been silly to ask Sabrina for help. You apparently expected too much from someone so utterly determined to rise alone to the top. You could only assume that kind of attitude would one day rise to bite her in the ass but until then, you just had to grin and bear it.

Even more irksome was the fact that she’d said so many of the same things you’d told Jimin. Pushing this uncomfortable thought aside, you forced yourself to concentrate on the combination Mr. Jordan began.

The entire length of the barre, you avoided eye contact with Sabrina. It was a difficult feat, but you managed it because you had no other choice. Throughout tendus, dégagés and rond de jambes, you sucked it up and stood next to Sabrina in glowering silence.

You were so concentrated, the time at the barre seemed to go by faster than usual. The first time you glanced at the clock was when Mr. Jordan stopped to call for a water break.

Bending abruptly, you grabbed the straps of your bag and said nothing to Sabrina while you walked away. Setting your stuff by near Noelle, you straightened and began to furiously unscrew your cap. She gave you a sympathetic look while you did this, reaching overhead to studiously re-do her bun.

“That bad, huh?” she said.

Furious, you scowled. “She’s an asshole.”

Noelle’s brows shot straight up. “Damn,” she whistled. “What’d the ice queen say?”

“That she hopes I drop out,” you said shortly, turning around. “That there’s only so much room for women at the top. She told me dance is a zero-sum game and if she helps me get a spot at Russet Company, it’d be one less spot for her to take.”

Noelle made a disappointed noise with her tongue. “See,” she said, around a mouthful of bobby pins. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that’s kept women down for centuries. Let’s ban together to burn the men!”

Although you laughed a little, you quieted quickly. Remembering your conversation with Sabrina made your legs a bit shaky. Shutting your eyes, you took several deep breaths until you felt calmer.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I know that it’s stupid and ultimately, I don’t care what Sabrina thinks – but she just makes me so mad.”

“She really said she hopes you drop out?”

Opening your eyes, you nodded. “Apparently, she wants Jimin as her ballet partner.”

“W-ow.” Noelle shook her head. “This plot has more twists than the Winchester mansion.”

Unable to help it, you snorted. “Oh, well,” you said glumly, following Noelle out on the floor. “It’s probably for the best. If this is how she reacts to me asking for help, imagine how awful she’d be as an instructor.”

“Yeah, you definitely dodged a bullet there,” Noelle agreed.

When Mr. Jordan cleared his throat, this led to a scurrying of movement as everyone took their places. He began to show the combination, leading the class through the steps with an easy poise. When the time came for you to break into pairs, you were forced to look around the room before you spotted Jimin.

He stood on the opposite side from you, practicing the steps Mr. Jordan had laid out. You blinked, hesitating a moment before crossing the room to his side. Every time before now, he had come to stand beside you.

Coming to a stop, you looked at him curiously. “Why’re you over here?”

Jimin shrugged in response.

You opened your mouth to continue, but then Mr. Jordan began the partner portion of the combo. Falling silent, you stood beside Jimin while you learned the steps. He was oddly quiet. This quietness alone wasn’t enough to raise any brows, though you typically exchanged at least minimal small talk. You know, hand here, leg there, lift your arms higher – that type of thing.

His silence wasn’t the only thing about him that was odd, though. His grip on your waist felt different today – rough, almost angry as you practiced the first lift. You winced when you landed, stumbling a bit as you whirled around.

“What was that?” you demanded.

Jimin blinked innocently. “What was what?”

You stared at him a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “Whatever,” you said, turning around. “Gentler, next time – okay?”

“Sure.”

Jimin moved back into place, standing in fifth position while Mr. Jordan started the song over. The combination wasn’t an adagio, comprised of slower movements, but a fast-paced pas de deux he’d created last week. You didn’t have much experience with this kind of partnering; most of your classes had preferred slower movements so far.

The fast pace required a higher level of trust with your partner, since you didn’t have time to second-guess all their movements. Apparently, Mr. Jordan had decided the fastest way to learn was to do. Jimin led you through the combination, one hand firm on your waist.

Normally, Jimin was a solid male partner to you. He knew when to push, when to hold back and when to allow you to take the lead. This no longer seemed to be the case. As you started to dance, you found yourself a bit dizzy. Jimin didn’t let you finish each spot before he whisked you around, keeping you – both literally and metaphorically – on your toes.

A swear nearly escaped when he pulled you to his chest – eyes flashing, you turned and started to boureé away. Jimin chassed forward, ending in a lunge for circular port de bras.

“You’re doing it again,” you muttered, moving behind him.

Facing forward, you piqued into arabesque.

“Doing what?” he said blithely.

Jimin twisted, grasping your hand in his as he crossed behind. Placing one hand on your hip, he waited for you to wrap your leg around him in attitude arabesque.

“You know what,” you hissed, as he walked you in a promenade.

Extending your leg fully, you lowered yourself in a penché. Contrary to their appearance, penchés were difficult to do with a partner. It involved an extension to arabesque, then bending with said leg held at a ninety-degree angle, or higher. The male helped with the motion, but his addition altered both your centers of gravity. It might have seemed logical for him to stand behind you, but he actually needed to stand slightly off center. It was easy for one – or both – of you to lose your balance.

You and Jimin had practiced the move enough that it’d become second nature – which is why you began to panic when you felt Jimin’s weight shift.

“Jimin,” you whispered, clenching your abs. “Step back!”

“Step back?” he said innocently, not moving at all.

“Yes! Jimin, you –”

He languidly stepped into the correct position, helping you up a second before you toppled over. You spun, eyes blazing and Jimin caught your knee. The smile he gave you sent rage through your veins, since it was instantly apparent he’d been fucking with you.

You imagined those cartoons where the main character’s head exploded, or became a volcano, or turned into a tea kettle that had steam escaping. This was exactly how you felt, but there was no time to respond, since the next portion of the combination was fast and required intense concentration. Shooting Jimin a glare which promised him a painful death, you continued.

Luckily, barre had been long, so only one combination remained until you were released from class. You contained your annoyance until class had ended, turned to stalk across the room the second Mr. Jordan turned off the music.

Noelle chuckled when she saw, noticing your clear annoyance. “Oh, no,” she said, glancing across the room. “What’d he do now?”

“Oh, nothing,” you seethed, tossing things in your bag. Yanking out sweatpants, you tugged these over your leotard. “Nothing a little conversation won’t fix.”

Knowingly, Noelle nodded. “Is ‘conversation’ code for beating Jimin up in the parking lot?”

Despite yourself, you laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Unfortunately not,” you said with a sigh as you walked from the room. “This’ll be a lot less fun.”

You came to a stop in the hall, some of your anger diminishing. A current of annoyance simmered beneath the surface though, since it was one thing for Jimin just not to like you – it was another entirely that he purposefully antagonize and jeopardize your career. This was exactly what you’d been worried about when you’d been assigned as partners.

“Well.” Noelle glanced at the room. “Did you want to get dinner tonight? You know, after you’re done tearing Jimin a new one.”

“Dinner sounds good,” you agreed. “I’m hanging out with Finn later, but I’m free before then.”

Noelle nodded sagely. “Good, good. I hear it’s healthy to fuel up before a massive sex marathon.”

Jimin – who’d been exiting the room – stopped short.

“Uh – what?” he said, glancing between you.

Waggling her fingers goodbye, Noelle shrugged and walked past. “Nothing for you to worry about. Good luck walking later, Park!”

Jimin stared at her as she left, completely bewildered until you grabbed him by the elbow and started dragging him away. He stumbled forward, not having expected the motion – but caught up to you fast as he tugged his arm free.

“Hey! Whoa, Y/N – what’re you doing?”

You whirled to face him in the hall.

“What was that?” you demanded.

Jimin blinked at you, uncertain. “Uh, let’s see. I was minding my own business and you just assaulted me –”

“During class,” you interrupted, gesturing at the classroom. “You had such an attitude today. You can’t even say it wasn’t purposeful, because –”

“Y/N.” Jimin stared in disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me what’s wrong? Your memory can’t be that short.”

Faltering a bit, you came to a stop. Jimin’s expression told you you were missing something big. It was last night, you realized. Jimin was mad about last night, when he’d chased you down the hall and you’d basically told him to fuck off.

“Ah,” Jimin said, seeing your understanding dawn. “I take it you remember now. That time you ambushed me in the hall and said I don’t deserve to be here?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant by that.”

“Oh?” His laugh sounded forced. “You told me I only worked half as hard as you did.”

“Well, because you do!” you sputtered.

The words escaped despite your intent to stay cordial. Jimin was right; you had exploded last night and some of that wasn’t his fault, but the core of what you’d told him remained. Guys did have an easier time than girls in the dance world. That was just a fact.

“Come on, Y/N.” Angrily, Jimin shoved a hand through his hair. “You seriously think that I’ve had it easy? I used to hide my dance stuff in a hockey bag because all the kids at my school teased me about wearing tights.”

Somewhat uncomfortably, you recalled what Finn had said the other night at dinner. Jimin wasn’t wrong about external prejudices regarding male dancers.

“I’m not saying you weren’t teased, Jimin.”

“Teased?” He stared at you in disbelief. “Y/N. I was beat up every day on the playground for the entirety of third grade. When I was eleven, some kids filled my locker with used tampons because I was a ‘pussy.’ Freshman year, I asked a girl to the dance and she said yes – only to stand me up the night of because her friends thought it’d be funny. I once went to ballet class in bare feet for a week because some assholes stole my bag and hid it in the women’s locker room. My life was shit half the time, Y/N,” he said, with sudden vehemence. “The only reason I kept going was because I love dance more than anything else.”

Jimin stopped talking, slightly out of breath and you stared at him in shock, never having heard him this angry before.

You’d thought that you had. You’d thought he’d been angry all those times you beat him in dance, but you had never seen Jimin looking anything like this. Hurt, a little broken and fiercely determined.

In some ways, it felt like the first time you’d seen him.

“Yeah, well…” You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. “I don’t know what to say to that. That sucks.”

Jimin laughed, a bit hollow. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, glancing away. “Fuck. I didn’t want to… make you feel bad, or whatever. That’s not why I said it. I just wanted you to know I’ve also overcome stuff to be here.”

Hearing him speak, you both bristled and wondered why he said it like that. Like he wanted you specifically to know and not someone else.

“I’m not saying you haven’t worked hard,” you admitted. “That sucks, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that there are ten female dancers for every one guy. Dance is a lot more competitive for women than men.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t also worked my ass off.”

“No one’s saying you didn’t,” you snapped, finally fed up. “I’m just saying more doors were opened for the effort you gave than for mine. And besides,” you added, unable to help yourself. “I’m sure it was real hard, coming from Harleigh Heights.”

Jimin seemed baffled by this. “What does my hometown have anything to do with this?”

“Oh, come on, Jimin. You can’t be that naïve.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You’re rich!” you blurted. “Or at least, your family is. You could afford all those fancy master classes in the city. You had private lessons, small group lessons and whatever else your parents’ money could buy. All I had was Rita’s Dance Studio.”

Jimin hesitated. “Rita’s isn’t… bad.”

“Jimin,” you said. “I was the only person from my studio to ever place at national dance competitions.”

“That doesn’t mean the studio itself was bad!”

“You have a fucking car in the city!”

He gave you a bewildered look. “What does… that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just another reason we’re different,” you groaned, rubbing your temple. “I know you work hard. I know you do, but you’ve also had way more advantages than I have and sometimes, that sucks.”

Jimin paused. “That’s not really something I can control.”

“It’s not,” you admitted through gritted teeth. Deciding you were done with this conversation, you moved to walk past. “It isn’t your fault, but the challenges we’ve faced aren’t the same and you know it.”

Before you could leave, Jimin grabbed your arm.

He turned you to face him, barely an inch from his face. Everyone always said Jimin reminded them of a puppy – cute, loveable, and eager to please. This had never been something you agreed with. Sure, Jimin could be cute when he wanted to be, but beneath that lay a deeper hunger, an insistent desire to prove himself in a way you found all too relatable.

Jimin held your gaze. “Seeing as you’ve never walked in my shoes and I’ve never walked in yours,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we stop making comparisons?”

Your gaze narrowed a bit, but before you could respond, he continued.

“If you’re having trouble keeping up, stop making excuses and ask someone for help.” Abruptly, he dropped your arm. “Otherwise, you’ll never improve.”

Jimin left without another word, jerking his bag higher as he stalked down the hall. You watched him go, too stunned to do anything else.

His last words – however accurate – made your ears burn. Hands curled into fists, you saw red for awhile, until Jimin had gone. After several deep breaths, you finally calmed down enough to be objective.

Unfortunately, objectivity was not in your favor, because Jimin was right.

He was right about you and you hated that fact. Even if your circumstances had been different, all that had changed when you both were accepted to Russet. Now, you were on a level playing field and you were the one person hanging on to what came before. The only thing that mattered now was what happened next; if you couldn’t compete at Russet, you’d be pulled from the game.

And the one person standing in the way of success was yourself.

Jimin had nothing to do with your lack of ballet technique. Sure, he had more money than you did – seriously, who brought a car to the city? – but it wasn’t like you’d been destitute. Your parents had made enough to afford all your lessons and costumes and dance competition fees. You’d had a studio, even if it wasn’t a fancy one within city boundaries.

Exhaling, you considered the other point he had made. While it was true male dancers had certain advantages, Jimin was damn good despite this. If you were being honest, you knew he was one of the best dancers at Russet regardless of gender.

Nearly ten minutes had passed before you began to walk down the hall. Everyone else had left for lunch, so it was just you and your thoughts as you exited the building. You felt exhausted, only partly because of the intensity of Mr. Jordan’s class.

You’d always been a planner. It was something your parents had teased you about but secretly, you’d always enjoyed. Here though, you felt at a loss.

For the first time in your life, you were forced to consider what would happen if you gave dance everything you had – if you tried everything you could think of – and still came up short. Everyone always said if you loved something, keep trying and you’d eventually succeed, but you’d seen enough by now to know this wasn’t necessarily true.

Everyone at Russet was talented. Everyone here was a hard worker. You didn’t make it this far without both of those things – which meant you could have it all and still fail.

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, you released a sigh. It was mid-September and already, the leaves had begun to change. You’d been at Russet for nearly a month and felt you’d yet to make any real progress.

Pushing this thought away, you wondered what you’d do with your life if you got kicked out. Go to a college near home, maybe. Find another career path that’d be mildly fulfilling and yet, nowhere near the release you experience through dance. The idea of it made you feel somewhat ill.

All you’d ever wanted in life was to dance. On some level, you’d thought things would be easier once you got into Russet. This had been a naïve expectation; you saw that now. Lift and the struggles which came with it refused to stop for even a second. Again, your former dance teacher’s words came to mind. If dance wasn’t truly what you wanted, it was better to give up than to go through the struggle.

You did want it, though.

Even if you had to go through hell to get it, dance was the thing which made you feel alive. If you didn’t make it at Russet, you could figure out what to do next – but until that moment came, you’d do absolutely everything necessary to make sure you stayed.

In the back of your mind, a voice whispered – even ask Jimin for help? – but you ignored it. That question could wait for another day, you decided as you walked away.

Even though he’d made some valid points, everything else still made you see red. The more you thought about it though, the more persistently his words seemed to grind away your resolve. Jimin may have been pissed at you, but he was also correct.

You could either continue to walk around campus feeling sorry for yourself, or you could improve.

Teeth gritted, you decided to do the latter.

Lounged at the foot of Finn’s bed, you scrolled through your TikTok in an endless loop.

“Ugh, my muscles are so sore,” you complained. Reaching out your foot, you poked him with your toe. “Massage them for me.”

“All of them?”

“Uh-huh.”

Grabbing your foot, Finn pulled this into his lap. To his credit, he started to give – well, not a massage, but he did something. Finn began poking the bottom of your foot with his index fingers until you finally laughed.

“Okay, not that!” you grumbled, pulling your leg back.

Finn grinned and turned a page in his book while you let your gaze linger. He looked good, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt he’d pulled on after sex. It was the first time all week you’d been truly alone; things had gone faster than usual, but that was to be expected. It had been awhile since the last time. It was nice just to see him, to touch him and talk to him – you’d missed having a semblance of normalcy in your life.

Innocently, Finn flipped the next page in his book. “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the pleasure of my touch?”

“I did not, no.”

Tossing his book aside, Finn bared his teeth and began to crawl forward. With a shriek, you backed away until your spine hit the wall and you laughed.

“No,” you begged, kicking his shin as you grinned. “No tickling!”

Finn growled mercilessly, but eventually relented. Twisting, he dropped to lay his head in your lap.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll just hang out here, then. My book is so far away. I guess I can’t study. Too bad.”

Although you rolled your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. Finn’s roommate was gone for the weekend, giving you the entire place to yourselves. You knew you’d have to leave at some point – ballet class started tomorrow at 8:30 AM – but until then, you could happily live in denial.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” you asked. “Tests? Something?”

Finn shrugged. “I already studied today.”

A twinge of jealousy went through you, although you squashed this immediately. Finn’s collegiate experience was different from yours, but this was through no fault of his own. 

You’d arrived at his dorm room shortly after dinner and, after unloading the crappy events of your day, Finn had merely shrugged and said his day had been fine. It seemed Finn was adapting to Redfield like a fish to water; nearly everyone you passed on your way to his room had stuck their head out to greet him.

On your way over, you’d considered asking Finn for advice about Jimin, but had given up on the idea soon after arrival. Visiting Finn was like stepping into a bubble. You knew the vision would pop as soon as you stepped outside, but it was nice to exist outside the worries of Russet.

Finn wouldn’t understand what you were going through either, which again, wasn’t his fault. His greatest stress was an upcoming test, while you were constantly on edge about whether you’d fail. There were no grades in your classes, no real way to tell if you were passing.

The most difficult part of Finn’s freshman year had been registering for his classes; a fact which cast your experience in stark perspective. If Finn dropped a class or had to miss a test, it didn’t really matter for him in the long run. It mattered for you.

Every time you’d previously mentioned Jimin to Finn, his advice had been to simply ignore him. It wasn’t the best advice, all things considered. Jimin was your assigned dance partner for the semester; you needed him in order to pass your classes.

It helped some to vent, but at the end of the day, you didn’t want Finn trying to fix things for you. That was what he did – he solved things. He loved to fix other people’s problems, loved to tie up loose ends and find neat solutions. The problem was though, you weren’t sure such easy answers existed.

Before you could suggest a movie to watch, someone knocked on the door to Finn’s dorm room.

Lifting his head from your stomach, Finn called, “Enter!”

The door swung open to reveal a tall, gangly-looking freshman in the hall. He looked at you with some surprise before glancing at Finn.

“Dude,” he said, sounding excited. “Sigma Nu is having a crazy party two blocks away. Ellie just texted saying there’s no cover for guys. A bunch of us are heading over – you in?”

“What – seriously?” Finn sat up straight. “No cover? That’s a first.”

He beamed and glanced at you, so you gave a small smile.

“It is?” you said tentatively.

Your words sounded uncertain even to your own ears, but Finn nodded excitedly. You hadn’t been out enough times this semester to notice.

“Coming!” door guy yelled to someone in the hall. Stepping back, he returned to the room. “So, you in?”

Your automatic reaction was no, since it was a Wednesday and you had class tomorrow, but before you could speak, Finn hopped from the bed.

“Sure!” he agreed, searching for his coat. “Y/N – you good with that?”

Hesitating, you fiddled with a corner of his blanket. Ideally, you’d love going to a weekday party with your boyfriend. Finn’s enthusiasm could be contagious, and you wanted to see him in his collegiate environment. He’d been the life of the party at high school and you knew it’d be the same here.

Unfortunately for you, ballet class wasn’t something you could just forget. You’d made it a personal rule not to drink before class and it would be no fun to attend a frat party sober. You were already skating on thin ice at Russet; you could only imagine what would happen if you showed up to class hungover.

“I don’t think I can,” you said softly, wishing the guy would leave Finn’s room. “I have ballet in the morning. Remember?”

“Oh.” Finn’s disappointment showed for only a moment. Hiding this swiftly, he sat back down on the bed. “Sorry, Ben,” he said, forcing a smile. “I think we’re staying in.”

Door guy – Ben, apparently – paused. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. “Y/N and I already have plans.”

Ben seemed confused; you assumed from this that he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch. 

“Really?” he said with a frown. “I thought you said you wanted to come.”

“It’s my fault,” you interjected, feeling a bit guilty. “I have class super early in the morning.”

“Oh, is that all?” He brightened. “That’s no big deal – so do I!”

Your lips tightened, not wanting to be rude, but this guy just wasn’t getting it.

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “But I can’t be hungover for mine.”

Ben stared. “Huh. Okay, well – if you change your mind. So weird,” he laughed, exiting Finn’s room to the hall. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend, Finn? Later!”

Pulling the door shut, he left the two of you in silence.

You stared in shock at the door, attempting to process everything you were feeling.

There was guilt at keeping Finn from something he wanted to do. Longing, from not being able to do the fun things that you wanted. And nausea, at hearing Ben say he didn’t know Finn had a girlfriend.

Hesitant, you glanced in Finn’s direction, but found him looking away – at the ceiling, at the floor, anywhere but at you.

“So…” You paused. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” Finn leaned back on the bed. Turning on his TV, he navigated to Netflix. “Want to watch a movie, or something?”

“I guess.”

You continued to sit there, clutching his blanket and staring blankly at the screen. After another moment, you decided this couldn’t be brushed aside and faced him on the bed.

“Why haven’t you told anyone you have a girlfriend?” 

Finn looked at you, surprised. “I have!”

“Oh?” you said, glancing at the door. “Then, why didn’t he know?”

Finn snorted. “Ben? Look – I like him, but the dude’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. As you may have noticed,” he added, giving a pointed brow raise.

Begrudgingly, you nodded. You had noticed.

“Hey.” Finn sat up straight. Clicking off the TV, he scooted closer on the bed. “I swear I’ve told people about you,” he said, taking your hands. “Promise. Ben is just an idiot. The instant someone is off-limits to them, they turn invisible. He’s probably even forgotten his sister by now.”

“Gross,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

Finn nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Ben’s an ass. I wouldn’t even hang out with him if it weren’t for the other guys on the floor. College. You know how it is.”

“Sure,” you said slowly, although you really didn’t.

There were multiple people on your floor and at Russet whom you didn’t like. You weren’t unfriendly to them, of course – with Sabrina being the exception – but neither did you hang out with them just because you were classmates. This entire world of collegialism was foreign to you.

“I love you,” Finn said.

Finally, you cracked a smile. “Love you, too.” Sliding both arms around his waist, you settled down on his chest. “Sucks about Ben being a dick, though.”

Finn laughed, brushing a kiss to your hair. “I think I’ll survive.”

You shook your head, knowing he was right. Finn always got through things like this; troubles seemed to easily roll off his back like water. You watched him turn on the TV and choose a comedy on Netflix. 

When the first scene began, you tried hard to relax, but this proved to be difficult. In high school, you’d been able to compartmentalize fairly easily but now, you found worries steadily leaking back in. Your Finn-bubble, the one which had always been so impenetrable, had started to become porous.

Worries about Russet, about your classes, about your teachers began to seep in and no longer did Finn’s dorm room seem like such a haven.

You didn’t belong here.

The thought occurred to you suddenly, as obvious as knowing the main characters on screen would eventually get together. Finn’s world was entirely different from yours, completely alien from Russet and you had no idea how to navigate the two worlds together.

It made you uneasy to consider, seated with your head on his shoulder and arms around his waist, but instead of facing this knowledge head-on, you pushed it away.

Too many things were being kept in your mind-boxes and, instead of disappearing, the thought continued to linger. It followed as you left Finn’s dorm, walked through the city streets, up the steps of Grace Hall and all the way to your bed.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

[ RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[broiunno]

License to Steal - Act IV

License to Steal

ACT IV

Act I // Act II // Act III // Act IV

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summary: Min Yoongi is your new protection detail upon your return to your father's side after being sent away during a bloody gang war. Now the dust has settled, you've been called back to your old controlled life, and leaving you an unwilling participant in your family's plans. You don't know what they are but you are no longer willing to be the obedient, protected daughter. You don't really care in the least of it makes Yoongi's new assignment hell on earth- So you'll carve your own life out back home on your own terms.

-rating: 18+

-pairing: min yoongi x reader

-word count: 5.8k

-warnings: swearing, gang activities includes drug mention and eventual drug use, the slowest of burns, organized crime, toxic af family dynamics, BEWARE IN THIS ACT: graphic family abuse (father initiated verbal and physical assault- does not fade to black), violence, blood, graphic descriptions of torture, and graphic sex scenes will be included in this work.

-authors note: @chelsea-chee leading the au as usual. I love her the appreciate her as my love, writer, and my beta. Her works are *chefs kiss* Thank you again beautiful <3 PLEASE NOTE: I AM REALLY NOT EXCITED TO POST THE NEXT FEW ACTS. They deal with heavy subject matter and I don't fade to black at any point so please note my works are for mature audiences, warnings are there for a reason and in bold. You are an adult if you are reading this work (per the warnings) and you are responsible for the content you consume. Thank you. ILY all and I love asks about the characters. And that's all I have to say about that...I'm sorry for the wait. I've had covid. I'm back on a better schedule now.

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You fumbled with your hair as you tried to rip your fingers through the still damp strands to assemble it back into a semi-presentable pony tail as the door slid open to your father’s office. You really did wish that you had been able to go upstairs and shower. Or at least change your clothes from the workout gear you currently felt sticking to your skin from the cooling sweat. As a breeze drifted from the vent as the air kicked on, you shivered violently, shaking your head and shooting a hateful stare in Yoongi’s direction as you stepped into the office. Appearances were everything in your family. They were the first level of protection to ensure threats stayed at a minimum. A show of strength and cohesiveness discouraged any hair-brained ideas from a weaker or less organized opposition.

Your father raised a dark, thick brow, turning from the man was speaking quietly to, his expression unreadable as you inclined your head slightly in greeting. “You asked to see me?” you said quietly, keeping your eyes downcast. Since Yoongi had mentioned your father was summoning you, you knew it couldn’t be anything positive. This soon after your arrival? Nothing good would come of this. You had just grabbed onto the distraction of Yoongi until you both stood in the office, feeling stripped bare, awaiting whatever admonishment was about to be delivered.

“You couldn’t make it a full forty-eight hours without causing me a migraine,” your father said sharply and you kept your eyes trained on the floor, as you replayed yesterday in your mind.

“Father, I don’t know what you-”

“Y/N, you weren’t even back a day and you spent how much?” he said, aggravation lacing his tone. “I had to call in Kim to look at your accounts immediately. You’re a fucking hassle.” He huffed and your eyes finally lifted to the stranger that stood next to your father, noting that he stepped away from your father and bowed quickly.

“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Kim Namjoon. I’ve been handling your accounts and will continue to do so.” You felt your lips part in a soft ‘oh’ as you studied the broad planes of his face, full lips and intense eyes. You felt like he was picking you apart in that moment as you took your time to absorb his ash blond hair in a relaxed, but carefully crafted style. His skin tone was golden; a contrast to Yoongi’s milk-like skin. He glowed, and you couldn’t tell if it from his melanin or the fact that he was radiating intelligence.

“N-Nice to meet you too,” you stammered and managed to close your mouth as he pushed up the rolled sleeves of his white button-down shirt. You swallowed hard and tried to claw through the mental fog that had overcome you. With the teasing from both Jungkook and Yoongi, being presented with another god-like man was the last thing you needed. “I will admit I’m a little confused; my spending was never a problem when I was away? I mean, it’s not like I bought a car.”

Your father barked a laugh and threw up his hands. “You have no grasp on what I do to make this money that you just piss away Y/N! And you COULD have bought a car with the amount you spent yesterday! Like I said: a god damn burden!” he hissed and you flushed slightly, taking a step back unconsciously as you watched his neck flush. Yoongi hadn’t said a word, but you knew you could still sense his dark presence in the corner of the room, not looking at him to notice his eyes narrowed slightly as the scene unfolded.

“Y/N, I’ve had an idea. You’re a daughter. I can’t do much with you. Your brother who I could actually have used is dead. Your mother-” He stopped as he watched your eyes bulge and he shook his head. “I can’t have more children. I’d consider it disrespectful to her memory,” he mused, a hand running along his chin and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you, but your jaw snapped shut audibly as your teeth clacked together after the noise passed your lips.

Your father’s eyes flared to life in challenge and he glanced at Namjoon, lip curling. “Did you calculate her estimated cost of living and monthly expenditures? Do you have solid numbers?” he said shortly and Namjoon just nodded, eyes flicking between the family members silently. “And did you adjust for a profit at the margin we discussed?”

“Yes sir,” came the deep steady voice, Namjoon’s eyes traveling your figure, his gaze not heavy with lust or desire, but full of curiosity. “The monthly amount that you should request for that profit is in the proposal if you would like to review it.” He finished and cleared his throat. “I can return if you want me to look over the contract,” he said softly, clearing fishing for a dismissal and your father granted it, offering his hand and you felt your mouth tighten in confusion.

“What contract?”

Namjoon grabbed a briefcase and inclined his head to you stiffly in farewell before his long legs carried him out the doorway. Your father’s gaze didn’t leave your eyes as he spoke. “Yoongi, see him out.” Yoongi nodded and started after the tall man in silence, not sparing you a second glance on his way out.

“I asked you what contract?” you said softly, struggling to keep your voice even as your father stepped closer to you.

“Well, you went out. Spent a lot of money that you’ve done nothing to earn, and caught someone’s eye in the process. Someone worth a lot of money and who would be an asset to have closer to the family at this point in his career.” Your father clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to close the distance between you, each step he made, you felt your heart plummet further.

“Father… what exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, Y/N. I’m telling you. Someone’s made a bid for your hand, and it’s the only thing you’ll be good for at this point. The shopping sprees, your lifestyle. I can maintain them, but if someone else is willing to do so, and the marriage benefits me in my business, I’d be stupid not to pursue it. Do you think I’m stupid, Y/N?” he said, voice getting dangerously quiet as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had escaped the rapidly put-up ponytail behind your ear.

“You can’t sell me off like fucking cattle!-” you said, flinching away from his touch, and his large, calloused hand shot out to grab your chin tightly. He forced your face back towards his as you tried to jerk away, squeezing hard enough to make your eyes begin to water. Your heart thudded out a dangerous irregular rhythm as you breathed hard through your nose.

“I can’t? Y/N, you seem to be under the delusion that you are free from the responsibilities that come with being in this family. I suppose that may be my fault. I was too soft on you, pitied the losses I caused you to have. I always had your brother anyway; there was no harm in indulging you. But now, you’re the only one with my blood in your veins. You’re home to do a service for this family. Everyone else has given their lives in some way. Did you think you were special?” His words were measured and cold as he studied you, grip not loosening on your face. You would be bruised tomorrow as you felt the throb set in from the pressure he was applying.

“You may order me to do it, but I don’t have to go along with this,” you hissed, barely able to open your jaw, but clenching your teeth to get your words out, rage licking up and down your body. He had taken your entire life as a child, as an adolescent. Did he really think giving you a few years of freedom put you back in his debt so far that you owed him the rest of your life?!

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth you heard the sharp crack, and felt yourself stumbling backwards into the wall. You blinked quickly as you registered the pain in your head, immediately starting to pound as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You barely had time to regain a semblance of your bearings before your father was upon you again, face chillingly blank as his ringed fingers gripped the base of your ponytail, ripping your head back at an awkward angle, a scream breaching your bloody lips. The noise was cut short by another blow, snapping your head to the side before he jerked your face back to center.

“Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he said with a lilt to his tone as you choked out a sob, unable to keep it from escaping your lips. “You really thought you weren’t going to do shit to replace that money you spent?” When he finished speaking he gave your head a violent shake, as if to scramble your thoughts further. It was completely unnecessary, as your head felt as if it was splitting with the pain he had rocked through you with his blows and harsh grip. You felt the start of a purely hysterical giggle break through, spitting out the fresh rush of blood that ran in your mouth due to the cuts in your cheek from your teeth. You noticed a piece of the skin from inside your mouth flapping loosely that made you nauseated if you dwelled on it.

The laugh was probably the worst response you could have had.

You heard a soft hiss, and your father stepped into your space further, hands darting from your head to wrap themselves around your throat and squeezing. As your hands scrambled to scratch at his hand, his arm, his face, anything, you wished you were surprised at this. You wished you were hurt because you were shocked, but you weren’t. There was blood in the water and he was a shark. He built his life this way.

“You don’t have to go along with this…” he said softly, voice void of emotion, “but you also don’t have to keep living here either. How long will you make it without this family? You’d never make it out of the city.” He mused and continued to squeeze, your vision starting to spot as you tried to draw in any bit of air within the hold he had, the choking heaves under the weight of him making the blood that had pooled in your mouth from his blows spill over your chin grotesquely as it began to stream onto his hand. “So will you behave for once in your fucking life?”

You were hyper aware of the tears streaming down your face as you managed the smallest of nods. You supposed he was right; you had never imagined you would be used in the family in any way. Your entire life had been lonely, and even though you hated it, you had resigned yourself to it. His hands unwrapped themselves from your neck, letting you inhale a burning gasp of air as you slid down the wall, and onto the floor. You coughed and rocked forward onto all fours as the shaking of your body didn’t allow for much more than consciousness.

Your father pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the crimson of your blood off his hand before tossing it to you on the floor. You could barely recognize the quick but unhurried footsteps coming back down the hallway to the office before they stopped short.

“Yoongi, take her upstairs.”

==

The flush from hustling back to his boss’s office drained from Yoongi’s face as his eyes widened at your figure hunched forward onto your elbows on the floor. He watched you hack as your body tried to clear your airway. Yoongi stayed silent as he reached down, crouching next to you and attempting to offer you a hand so you could stand on your own, for which you were thankful. You felt the physical pain, but no emotions as your mind sluggishly screamed at you to just accept his hand and stand. You needed to walk out of here on your own. You knew you wouldn’t make it all the way to your room after the assault, but you didn’t need to. Just to the elevator.

You reached out your hand, shaking hard, as you clasped at his large palm and hoisted yourself up, letting him pull lightly as he stood with you, noting that he was still silent. You tried to ignore how your vision swam before you, willing your knees not to buckle. You couldn’t pinpoint if the unsteadiness was from the blows to your face, the lack of oxygen, or the tears that had thankfully stopped streaming down your face but still filled your eyes.

Yoongi seemed to read your mind, shifting his grip from your hand to your upper arm, nestling in your underarm and gently steered you to the door, but let you support most of your weight on the way out. You walked in silence as he didn’t rush you down the hallway, both of your eyes trained on the lift door as he typed in the code. As you waited for the door to open you felt your shaking legs betray you and start to bend. You glanced away from him, the movement of your eyes causing a piercing pain to shoot through your head. “Please,” was all you rasped wetly as you put more weight and started to sink, but the pressure holding you up immediately doubled, Yoongi’s support forcing you upright, even if it made your shoulder raise. It would be almost imperceptible from your father’s office if he was still looking in your direction, but you doubted he would. He had already received your submission; he didn’t need you for anything else.

Yoongi didn’t seem to want to take the chance that he was still watching, stepping into the elevator and continuing to only hold you in one place. His grip was still disguised as if he was walking you out in the same way he may escort an associate who was no longer welcome - in such a manner that would deter any further escalation. No one would be able to tell he was the only thing keeping you upright.

As the door slid shut to the elevator the facade crumbled, you lurching forward and gasping out a sob of pain, tilting your head down to let the blood that had been collecting in your mouth pour out onto the floor. You forgot how much mouth wounds bled. Yoongi was not bothered with the grotesque display as he swiftly adjusted his grip to wrap around your shoulders, his other arm sweeping at your feet as he lifted you with apparent ease. You shut your eyes as the tears began to flow once more, unable to restrain the moans and whimpers of pain that escaped between gasps as you cried. He still hadn’t said a word, even as you turned your face into his suit jacket, inhaling jaggedly as you tried to focus on the scent permeating from him, trying to place it through your snot-filled nose. The only thing you could recognize was the warm, woodsy scent of patchouli as you reached a shaking hand up to hold onto his jacket tightly. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but it grounded you all the same.

You tried to slow your breathing, but failed as the elevator door opened and Yoongi strode quickly to your bedroom door, bending at the knees and somehow using his crook of his elbow and his body to turn the door knob, the only change in your positioning being that you tilted slightly as he spun it. He kicked the door with his foot gently as he stepped in, by-passing your bed as he carried you into your bathroom, carefully getting on his knees as he lowered you into your large bathtub as he placed you there. You continued to breath quickly, your gasps becoming sharper as your gentle shaking soon became uncontrollable. You released his jacket as he stood and you pulled your knees to your chest, shutting your eyes finally as you heard the tap briefly run before a cool rag brushed your chin, eyes flying open as you flinched away.

“Shh, I need to see your face. I have to get the blood off,” Yoongi whispered, and you finally looked at him, noting his face was still paler than normal. “Princess, I need you to take a slow, deep breath okay? Can you do that? Your lips are turning blue; you’re hyperventilating. You’re safe,” he murmured, brows pinching together in a pained expression you had never seen on his face as you tried to nod, attempting to take a long breath in but ended up gulping in air multiple times on the way, the blurring of your vision worsening as Yoongi grimaced, your breathing speeding up again, your shoulders shrugging with the effort to take in air. The last thing you heard was Yoongi’s tense exclamation of “Shit!” before you blacked out.

==

When you awoke, you were under the covers of your large bed. You sat up quickly before groaning from the ache in your head, then realizing that opening your mouth made you want to scream from pain. Between the squeeze on your jaw and the cuts inside your mouth, it was safe to say you would be saying very little for a while. You glanced towards the window, noting it was inky black outside.

“How long has he hit you?” came a cool voice from beside your bedside and you turned to face the source, seeing a figure standing beside the small table, casting a shadow with the aid of a lamp. Had he even left? Yoongi had shed his stained suit jacket, but still wore the white shirt and same suit pants. You only knew it was the same shirt due to the blood stain from where your mouth must have painted him. Instead of attempting to speak, you shrugged in an attempt to get his gaze off of you. It was piercing and unnerving. You felt as if this was the beginning of an interrogation, and you didn’t fail to notice the color had still not returned to his normally pale face. Now that your mind was a bit clearer you were able to recognize why it registered so deeply with you. He was the embodiment of white with fury. “How. Long?” he said again with such harshness you swallowed hard, ignoring the fire that licked down your throat as you did so.

“That’s a joke right? He’s always been like that. I just normally am better at avoiding it,” you forced out; your words were almost incoherent as you tried to move your jaw as little as possible as you spoke. That was bearable. Good. Not that you had expected it to be, but at least your jaw wasn’t broken; that would have been a pain in the ass. “What time is it?”

“It’s three am,” Yoongi hissed as his eyes glimmered in the near darkness, pushing off the wall and grabbing a glass of water off the table and sweeping a few pills into his hand. “Take these.” You took his offering and a small sip of the water before carefully throwing the pills to the back of your throat and washing them down, sighing softly. “They’re pain pills. They’ll help and you’ll be able to go back to sleep in a bit.”

You didn’t answer but pulled back the cover of your bed and slid out, noting that your bloody shirt had been changed but you still had on your sports bra and leggings. And your ponytail had been taken down, which was probably a good thing since your scalp was still aching from the hold your father had you in.

“Y/N… don’t.” Came Yoongi’s voice, still unemotional but a bit gentler than his earlier tone. You didn’t turn back to him but stopped your path to your vanity, obviously trying to look at your reflection in the mirror to assess the damage.

“Is it that bad?” you grumbled, turning to him and you watched him shrug.

“It’s not good. Don’t worry about it tonight. No bones are broken from what I can tell. I wiped you down the best I could. Just change once I leave and get back into bed.”

You let out a deep breath but finally stepped towards your closet instead to grab an oversized t-shirt. You could work the bra off under it and slip your pants off once you had it on. “Why did you even stay?” you said softly as you set to work, your muscles aching as you attempted to change modestly. You don’t know why it even mattered, but in this moment it did.

“I needed to know if he had done this before. I needed to know if this was the first time. When we were kids, you weren’t around all the time. Sometimes, I’d go months without seeing you. I didn’t know if this was a part of it,” he spat out, visibly tensing as he took a loud steadying breath.

You shrugged as you pulled off your leggings, successful in stripping your bra off under the shirt, and padded back to your bed. “There were a few reasons he kept me separated from everyone. It wasn’t all because he thought I was too precious to see any of this.” You climbed back into bed and tried to settle back into the plushness. Yoongi took a step closer to you, his mouth slightly open as he watched you try to get comfortable, seemingly unable to stop himself.

“Y/N…” he said softly and reached a hand towards you and you stiffened, eyes narrowing, and he took note, dropping his hand slowly.

“Yoongi, I never asked for your fucking pity.”

“I know, and it makes me want to help you even more.”

You blinked and tried to register what he was implying. “Help me?” you repeated, shaking your head as you felt the same hysterical laugh bubble up that had made your assault that much worse in your father’s office. “No one can help me!” You laughed, eyes widening as the smile twisted your features. “This is my life, this is what I was born into. This is what all those shiny things cost, Yoongi! I always knew it but I forgot.” You watched as the pained expression from earlier slid back over his features, and you raised your eyebrows in response. “I appreciate it, but unless you’re willing to put a bullet in my fucking head there’s no saving anything.”

“Who says it has to be your head, Princess?” he said gently and you swear you felt the world stop.

“Don’t say shit like that Min,” you hissed, baring your teeth and shaking your head. “Even if we don’t always get along, I don’t want you dead too.”

“Whatever you say Princess,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you alright to sleep? You don’t feel like you’re going to vomit?” he asked seriously, watching as you shook your head.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you grumbled but as you watched him smirk and go to grab his jacket you felt your heart speed up. “Yoongi- w-wait.” He immediately stopped, as if he was anticipating your words. “Can you stay here the rest of the night? I know he won’t do anything but I-”

“Let me go change my clothes. Is that okay Princess?”

“Yeah… I just don’t want to be-”

“It’s fine Y/N. I’ll be right back.” You stayed sitting up, watching him as he dismissed your attempts at explanations and justification as he walked out.

You sighed, leaning against the leather headboard and let your breathing even out, even as your heart still raced. The pain began to slowly ebb as the medication took effect; what had you even taken? It had to be something strong as a comfortable fog began to cloud your thoughts.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to have him here. Did you even need to explain? He was technically your bodyguard. You had known each other most of your lives. You had just suffered through an assault; staying with you was reasonable. Even if the assailant wasn’t unknown, nor were the motives. At the end of the day, Yoongi’s presence made breathing a bit easier. His presence made you feel safe.

The door opened again and you sucked in a breath as Yoongi re-entered your bedroom, one hand carrying his gun and holster, the other a hanger with a clean pressed suit. “I’ll wake up before you,” was all he said in response to your surprised expression as he studied you. He mistook the shock on your face as being accredited to the suit. He was an idiot if he thought you cared about the fact he would dress here. You were too busy drinking in the sight of his lean figure in low-slung grey sweatpants. You tried to rip your gaze back to his face but you got caught on the black ribbed tank top and the swirling black tattoos covering his shoulder and chest before disappearing under the material.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” you choked out, feeling your face flush and mentally slapping yourself. He may look like sex on legs, but you looked like you just had the shit beat out of you. Which to be fair to yourself, you actually just had the shit beat out of you.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, a small smirk tilting his lip up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He draped his suit over the chair to your vanity and carried his gun with him towards the plush armchair in the corner of the room.

“The bed is big enough Min. I won’t touch you,” you said breathlessly, trying to force away the blush that was deepening across your face. He seemed to freeze and take a few steadying breaths.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Princess.” His voice was controlled but quiet.

“Please Yoongi…” you said just as quietly. “It’s just for tonight. I won’t feel safe if you’re all the way over there.”

It was definitely an over exaggeration. You hadn’t really expected him to even agree to stay in your room with you. The chair was the reasonable option. You knew you were pushing it.

“Princess, I-” He breathed, the airiness of his tone making your belly somersault and it gave you a tiny shiver.

“Yoongi, please. I need you next to me. Just tonight.” You shouldn’t be so worried about getting this man into bed with you, but now that he was here in front of you and it was so close to happening, you felt you might cry if he denied you.

You watched his back muscles rippled as he tensed and tried to relax. He turned wordlessly and walked to the opposite side of the bed, setting his holster down and climbing into the king-sized bed with you. “Go to sleep Princess.”

The drugs had to be prescriptions, not that you really expected a member of an organized crime family to just take a regular aspirin when they were in pain. “Is the oxy working yet? It should start soon if it hasn’t.” You hummed your assent as you squirmed down into the bed and tried to keep the smile from your face as you reached over and turned out the lamp. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, savoring the heat that quickly built from having two bodies under the covers of your bed, ignoring the slightly annoyed sigh from the other side of the bed.

“Be quiet Min, I’m trying to rest,” you said softly and a soft dry chuckle cut through the silence as you let sleep take you.

==

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi listened to the soft sounds of your breathing as they lengthened and deepened, the pain pills having done their job perfectly. If only he could have done his job in such a manner. He had been given a job: to keep you safe, and he took it seriously. Even if the one assigning his work was an abusive piece of shit. Yoongi let out a sigh, glancing over at your figure in the dark to make sure his huff hadn’t disturbed your slumber. It didn’t. You were still laying there, eyes closed and unaware, your face turned towards him to afford him a view of what exactly your father had done in his absence.

He felt his teeth grind against each other as even in the dark, he could make out the near black bruises covering your neck in the clear shape of hands, a bloom crossing your smooth cheek as well. Even your chin and jaw were dark from bruising; evidence that your father had held your face to force submission. It had worked. He opened his mouth and stretched his own jaw to try and stop himself from continuing to grind his molars down to nothing in rage. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forget how you looked and how he felt when he entered the office, watching the blood drip onto the floor. How he wanted nothing more than to simply pull out his gun and lodge a bullet into your father’s knee before proceeding to swing the butt of his gun down onto him until he shattered every bone in the pig’s disgusting face.

Until he begged him to stop. Until he begged his daughter to tell Yoongi to stop.

The daydream made Yoongi smile a full gummy smile and chuckle for the first time today. He would stop when you told him to. If you told him to. Now that he knew your father had put his hands on you before this, he wondered if you would just let him continue until his mania at seeing what had been done to you was sated. He knew it wouldn’t be until he heard your father’s death rattle, knowing it had been at his own hands.

You stirred slightly to readjust in your sleep, drawing his attention back to the present as you moved closer to him in the bed and he sucked in a breath. Even beaten and bruised you affected him. Even carrying you in that elevator down the hall as you clutched onto him. He had been spiraling down into violence but as soon as you grabbed his jacket, he knew you wouldn’t withstand even him raising his voice to anyone without shattering. You were normally so fierce and seeing you broken made him want to tear apart this entire society you both lived in, even if it was all either of you had ever known.

It was then he had decided he would be what you were asking of him with your sobs and how you clutched onto him; he would be as gentle as could be and give you whatever you needed tonight. Tomorrow he would begin the undertaking of dismantling your father piece by fucking piece.

He had watched over you after you passed out; you had woken up briefly for him to get you to take pain medicine once before you actually were able to speak to him. Before you asked him to stay with you. He wanted to pretend it didn’t make his icy heart crack, the way you tried to explain and justify his presence. He would never ask you to in this kind of situation. When Yoongi returned to his room, he attempted to steel himself for a night of sitting in that uncomfortable chair, and a sleepless day tomorrow. He had gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep before.

But when your eyes, even if they had started to become glossy and dilated from the drugs, began to run over him, he had to try and think of every unsexy thing he could fathom. You had just been fucking violated and just with one look he felt the blood travel away from his brain and pool below his waist. Why did he think he would be able to wear sweatpants while staying with you? You destroyed every semblance of self control he had. He still hadn’t forgotten your teasing in the elevator prior to this shit show.

Then your soft drowsy voice had called out to him just as he had regained his mental fortitude and continued to the chair. You would be the fucking death of him and he didn’t think he would really mind. Now, as he laid here in bed with you trying to ignore the fact that you were shifting closer to him in your sleep, seeking his warmth, he closed his eyes. He had anticipated the pure fury of tonight keeping him awake, but instead it was the fact that he could feel your breath on his neck, that if he turned his head back to you he could still make out your absolutely gorgeous feminine form from under the blankets. The dip in your waist and the curve of your hips, sloping into your soft thigh. Yoongi’s eyes shot open as he let out a soft hiss as he felt his member stiffen in his sweats, one large hand reaching down to palm himself, and he willed his hard-on to disappear.

He dropped his eyes again, confident he would get his bulge to go down without waking you, and as he tended to it, a soft small hand reached across his middle, making his forehead furrow. He tried to take a steadying breath, and tried to not imagine that the events of last night weren’t the reason he was in your bed. That you had just invited him to bed because you wanted him there, not for security but because you wanted him as a man to share your bed and body. That he could roll over to face you, slip his own hand up that oversized shirt and rub soft circles into your skin before slipping his hand down in-between your thighs.

Yoongi felt his cock twitch and himself harden further, forcing another deep breath in and out as he circled back to try and think of grotesque things to make his longing subside. You at least had stopped wriggling in the bed in an attempt to get closer; he was thankful for that. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to calm his heart and regulate his breath to make it possible for him to drift off.

This was going to be a long night.

[kafka-ish]

richie tozier gets off a good one | r.t.

“This was not to say Richie could not be very funny from time to time; he could be. When referring to verbal zingers and farts, Richie’s terminology was the same: he called it Getting Off A Good One, and he got off Good Ones of both types frequently...” -- Stephen King

word count: 3.3k

warnings/included: nsfw (explicit smut, oral -- male receiving, male x female, mentions of masturbating), fem!reader

a/n: pls enjoy ! 

-

It was a cold shower kind of afternoon as the thunder from outside Richie’s bedroom window roared loud enough to be mistaken for a dragon. Dragons don’t exist. Richie, however, ignored the booming sounds of nature from outside—his thoughts lost in a certain someone; and his ears muffled by the pillows encasing him.  

y/n was coming over for a study session at two p.m. sharp, per Wentworth’s request, but Richie still had time as his left hand traveled to the zipper of his orange, corduroy trousers. It’s not like Richie knew y/n. This afternoon, this shameful afternoon where if his dad were home right now, he’d be caught with his hand in his pants and a name he’d rather not talk about in between his lips, would be his first time meeting the girl.

Wentworth Tozier was the one to suggest she come over on this grey Sunday afternoon during Thursday’s family dinner when he noticed Richie’s recent report card.

“A C in chemistry?”

“The C stands for Chemistry,” Richie said with a smirk on his face. It didn’t seem to work because Mr. Tozier’s frown didn’t budge, and Maggie Tozier only sipped her coffee which had to be cold by now.

“You know we expect better from you.” He was right. His parents weren’t used to anything other than a line of A’s on the weekly transcript he brought home. Richie wasn’t either. But lately, something had taken a toll on his grades—or someone.

“You know what might help him, dear?” Wentworth looked up from the chicken he was currently cutting through. “A tutor.”

“I do not need a tutor.” Richie dropped his fork which was being used to play with his green beans.

“Your grades say otherwise, kid,” Wentworth countered. “You know, Maggie, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Not you too, Dad!” Richie cried out, exasperated at the scene playing out in front of him.

Ignoring his son, Wentworth continued, “In fact, I think my buddy back from Catholic school has a kid who could tutor him.” He took a bite. “Last I heard, she was fairly good at the sciences.”

“You should think about calling them after dinner,” Maggie said without looking up. Which was how Richie ended up with only an hour left to get himself off rather than the rest of the day.

Although his hand was no match for any of his previous hookups, it was faster, and it got the job done. He was just about to finish when the doorbell rang and a knock on his door startled him from his position and kept him from finishing.

“Coming!” Richie yelled; certain that the outsider wasn’t going to hear him. He stood up from his position on his bed, pulled up the trousers that hung from his ankles and trekked his way downstairs. His feet made a thumping sound as they padded their way down the stairs—roughly at that. He was surprised the house didn’t shake at his footsteps. “We don’t want your Girl Scout cookies,” Richie said, half annoyed that his session was cut early.

“I’m not a Girl Scout.” y/n held open the door with her hand before Richie could close it. She wore a white button down that was haphazardly tucked into a blue-green, plaid skirt. Her already see-through blouse was even more see-through, as the rain from standing outside for so long had drenched it from the outside in.

“Oh.” Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t order a pizza, either.”

“I didn’t bring you a pizza, either.” y/n was growing just about as annoyed as he was. “Can I just come in?”

“I don’t know about that one, toots.” Richie made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Pops said I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

“Richie, please, just let me in,” y/n seethed. She didn’t have time for his bullshit and quite frankly, he didn’t either. If Richie let his grades take another blow to the one-inch margin, his C would threaten to turn into a D. “Your dad called mine on Thursday… I’m here to… tutor… you.”

Richie noticed how her voice had lowered and he could tell she was just as ecstatic as him for their study session. Wordlessly, he stepped away from the front door, allowing y/n some space to walk in. His eyes inadvertently glued themselves to her backside, watching as her skirt’s pleats swayed against her hips and the rain’s water trail against her long legs; a sight he’d swallow at and feel himself grow semi-hard to.

If all the girls at Catholic school looked like y/n, he might just have to transfer because just one glance at her made Richie forget all about the reason for his tragic C that stood for Chemistry.

“Where are we studying?” y/n asked. Her eyes darted around the place like it was foreign. It was foreign. Her hands clutched the book bag she held onto tighter, anxious by the new atmosphere.

“Is my room okay?” Richie asked, already starting up the stairs. His tone had gone soft, like when you microwave butter. He almost felt bad for protesting against the idea of being tutored just a few short days ago.

“Yeah.” y/n followed him, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two bodies.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Richie said, not trying to cover up the obviousness in his voice; that he was obviously looking at her covered chest each second she spent turned away from him; that he had an obvious hard-on that he hadn’t bother to conceal under his ridiculous corduroy pants.

“No,” y/n said with a bit of uncertainty. Sure, she was soaking wet from her hair to her toes, but she wasn’t about to borrow one of Richie Tozier’s ridiculous band-tees that would wear like a dress.

“What’s with the get-up, anyway?” Richie smirked. Before he sat down, he pulled out an extra seat for her. Usually, it would be used to discard his dirty clothes on. Luckily, Maggie Tozier had taken the liberty of cleaning up before their guest got here.

“Laundry day,” y/n sighed while sitting down her bag next to her. She brushed out her skirt as she sat down so it’d cover as much of her bare legs as fabric would sparingly allow. Her skirt was drenched, and she was sure it would leave the chair just the same as if she stood up any time soon.

“Don’t have to wear that thing tomorrow?” Richie couldn’t help but think about all the other girls who’d be wearing the same outfit on Monday. Of course, their blouses wouldn’t be overly exposing, but their legs would still be bare and long—longing for Richie’s stare if you catch a drift.

“Aren’t you failing something?” y/n snapped back.

Richie swallowed the rest of the words lingering in the back of his throat.

“I was thinking we start with the basics.” y/n bent down, searching for the green folder she had marked ‘Science’ in thick, permanent ink. Richie couldn’t help but steal another look at her figure—outlined by the white shirt that clung to it.

“Basics?” His voice cracked, but he was too caught up in her to care.

“Well, what do you need help with?”

“Nothing.” Richie scoffed, not letting some girl he barely knew deflate his ego.

“Then why am I here?” She countered. Her eyebrow raised, unimpressed, and her fingers started to drum anxiously against the wood of his desk.

“Right now, we’re going over stoichiometry,” Richie shrugged, not bothering to meet her eyes—her bright, keen eyes he’d find himself lost in if he weren’t careful. “It’s not the math part I need help on it’s the—”

“Concentration.”

“Yeah.” Richie let out a heavy sigh. He already knew what y/n looked like—beautiful, while water droplets kissed her neck that he itched to touch. It wouldn’t hurt to steal yet another glance, he thought, while turning towards her. “It’s like I can’t focus,” he said, finally making eye contact.

“And you need help with that?” She questioned. The familiar feeling of anticipation welled in the back of her throat but there was no telling why.

“I guess.” Richie’s eyes left hers to stare at the wall. The view was less impressive, but it let him form a cohesive thought.

“I think I know a way.” y/n’s demeanor had completely changed by now. Richie was about to mutter out a how or what the hell are you talking about but the words in his mind scrambled together like the eggs his mother made that morning when he felt her hand travel down to his knee.

y/n’s touch was light and delicate—almost nothing as it grazed against the fabric of his jeans. But it was there. He felt it, and if he didn’t, his imagination must’ve been pretty goddamn realistic for running at a hundred hertz a minute. Her thumb ran circles against the corded pattern making his breath hitch.

“Uh, what’cha doin’?” Richie’s eyebrow rose at the hand on his pants which was making its way to the zipper.

“Helping,” she insisted, “if you’re having trouble focusing, you’re probably stressed, right?” Richie could only nod. “So, this will help you unstress.” He gasped at the sound and sight of y/n undoing his zipper. His eyes widened and she found herself smiling at his movements from such little touch already.

Richie was quick to roll his jeans, and the underwear underneath, to his ankles. His eager length stood hard and erect against his stomach and if it weren’t for his lack of social awareness, he’d be embarrassed to be seen bare in front of a girl he just met.

y/n’s right hand—timid but daring—wrapped itself around the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from Richie’s now parted and perfectly pink lips.

Surprise wouldn’t even begin to describe the swirl of emotions that found themselves in the pit of Richie’s stomach and began to bubble in his throat—another groan. Though, as surprised as Richie was, he couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of pleasure and yearning for more as he harshly swallowed at the feeling of friction and tightness y/n managed to spring upon him in one firm jerk.

She was on her knees now, the feeling of hardwood against bare skin didn’t seem to faze her. All her attention was on Richie. The sound of unsteady breaths from above had y/n’s cheeks flushed and panties in a heat. The only cohesive thought in her mind was wanting to hear those pretty little noises coming from Richie’s pretty little mouth again.

y/n didn’t need a mirror to know her pupils were blown, the sight before her that she couldn’t quite look away from and the uncomfortable feeling between her legs was enough, letting her realize what she was doing. What was she doing? Her grip on his length loosened as she moved her hand up and down, allowing for enough space for her mouth when she connected her lips to his dick.

“God. You feel great, toots.” It only took a few motions for Richie to already come lax at the feeling of y/n’s mouth. He wished it were another part.

y/n chuckled to herself. Having this much power over a boy made her feel… confident. No guy at her school would give her the time of day, it seemed—not even Jeremy Fields. But Richie Tozier… Richie Tozier was practically falling apart at the sight of her and y/n loved that. Richie felt her pace around him speed up and y/n felt herself grinding on her palm to meet his same high. The sight of her alone was enough to have Richie on edge.

“Sugar, if you don’t stop I’m gonna—” His heavy pants were enough to cut him off, but y/n took her chance to interrupt further.

“—You’ll what?” She pulled apart from him, a string of saliva connecting them. Richie almost whimpered at the warm feeling of her mouth provided—gone.

“I’m gonna bust before I can take care of you,” he admitted somewhat bashfully. His face was red, and y/n couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the fact that he had been worked up.

“Oh.” Back at her shy state, y/n ducked her head and felt her cheeks heat in a similar fashion to his. “Well, in that case…” y/n didn’t have to finish her sentence for Richie to get a grasp on what she was saying. She began to undo the buttons of the thin, white button up at an unbearably slow pace. She managed to peel the wet material that stuck to her skin gracefully even though she’d been itching to take it off as soon as she put it on.

“Wow.”

“Shut up,” y/n mumbled mindlessly, not daring to make eye contact. Part of her was embarrassed enough at the fact that she was on her knees for the boy she was supposed to teaching qualitative chemical reactions to. Her skirt was next to come off. The plaid fabric fell helplessly fell to the ground as soon as she unzipped it.

“I’m serious. You’re like… hot stuff, hot stuff,” Richie said as soon as she stood up, giving him a perfect view. Her underwear was a scalding red with embroidered flowers that decorated the side of her breasts and hipbone. The matching set was far from innocent, far from what Richie would imagine Catholic school girls to wear.

y/n didn’t say anything—her stomach too full of butterflies and a lump still caught in her throat. Richie could sense her nervousness and pulled her into him. To think, a girl he had met only thirty minutes ago was now engulfed in his arms and half-bare for him.

The rough pad of his thumb drew circles on her shoulder. The slow, sensual movements against her skin was electric and had the two riled up even more as Richie slotted his thigh in between hers for her to buck up against. The feeling of her clothed clit on lace as she dragged herself back and forth on his leg at an uneven pace was indescribable.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t unexpected that Richie broke the silence and occasional gasps. “You’re soaked… so… fuckin’ soaked.” He could feel the wetness from her panties that dripped onto his bare leg and he groaned at the thought that it was because of him.

y/n giggled but the sound of her breathy laughs in his ears didn’t last long as she pressed into him further and latched her lips onto his. It was like no other kiss he’s had before. As for y/n, she’d be ashamed to say it was her first kiss. That is, her first kiss where she felt something.

y/n swallowed the moan from Richie as their lips still locked and their tongues swept over each other.

“You’re like—”

“You are, too,” y/n breathed quickly, not bothering to hear the rest of the words. Her attention was now focused on him—or the lack of him inside her. She grabbed his throbbing length once again, taking barely any time to admire it. “Do you have any?”

“Yeah.” Richie swallowed. He opened the top left drawer of his desk, revealing a box of Trojans which he quickly took a foil packet from.

It was weird. Although y/n knew this was just a one time thing she couldn’t help but feel jealous as the small hairs on her neck stood to attention.

Effortlessly, Richie tore open the foil and slid on the condom. “Ready?”

y/n nodded and bit down on her cheek as she sunk down on him. Patiently, Richie waited for her to adjust to his size and a sign for him to move.

A quick kiss to his lips was it. It was different from the first. Swift, sweet, teasing. Richie wanted more. He wanted more as he thrust up into her and he wanted more as he felt y/n’s fingertips dig into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.  

“Unfair that you have more clothes on,” y/n managed to speak through a whine. To which Richie opened his eyes and through hazy lids and lust-blown pupils he saw her panties that were pulled to the side as his dick met her entrance and the bra strap that was making its way down her arm.

Richie stifled a chuckle. “You want this off?” He gestured to the graphic tee that was basically draped over his slim figure.

“God, yes. Take a hint much?” She tugged weakly on the sleeve of his shirt and he pulled away for a second so he could remove it, revealing his smooth chest and delicious collarbone.

Another whine left y/n’s lips as he pulled her in closer again. His speed picked up as he bottoms out, reaching a spot no guy has ever found before. Her left hand his in his hair, gripping at his long locks that only a Rockstar would dare wear and her right hand is clutching his cheek—his freckle-sprayed cheek that relaxes under her soft hands and delicate fingers.

Richie’s hands, however, are in a much more intimate place he realizes as he moans yet again, this time at the feeling of his roots being pulled on. One is on her ass, keeping her from falling off, though it might be impossible seeing as how close the two are. The other is playing with her folds, using the same circular motions from earlier to coax her closer.

“You feel so good,” Richie says as his eyes roll back to his head. “Fuck.”

y/n hums. Her lips can’t help but curl into a smile once the words reach her ears. “I’m close,” she whispers and Richie nods in agreement.

It’s dirty and the total opposite of what Richie would expect from the girl who walked in his door a short hour ago, but they reach their highs together, while the filthiest noise Richie’s ever heard leaves y/n’s swollen lips. He watches her as she cums. Her hair is moussed and sweat shines across her furrowed brows. But Richie Tozier swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck, doll,” Richie says in amazement.

y/n’s still smiling as she opens her eyes, but she can’t help but be embarrassed at the same time.

“What?” The question is small, but there’s a certain weight on her shoulders that Richie notices.

“You’re hot.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and y/n wants to smack him right then and there. But she doesn’t. She only smiles back, quickly removes herself from him, and redresses herself with the same pace. Her shirt is only slightly less damp and slightly less uncomfortable, but it’ll do. y/n supposes she could just change into her pajamas once she got home. “What, don’t tell me our session’s over already,” Richie tries to joke.

“Sorry,” y/n sighs. Her backpack is already slung over her shoulder, she didn’t even need to ask Richie for help with her stuff.

“Hey, is this because…” Richie’s large palm finds a home on y/n’s shoulder which she tenses up at.

“No!” y/n’s barely able to choke it out. “But the session was, like, supposed to be an hour, you know? And I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She’s back to her nervous self again.

“God.” Richie realizes what this is about now. “You’re not overstaying anything, toots. You can stay for dinner if you’d like,” he offers. “Hell, stay forever.”

y/n resists the urge to roll her eyes and opts for the dead skin on her lip instead. “I really have to go. Sorry, Rich.”

The last he sees is her half-smile from her all perfect lips before she slips out the door and into the rain again.

[fruitcoops]

Hey I was wondering if you could write something kinda angsty but with a pretty ending with the cubs, I’m trynna project getting stood up and turning it into something nice and good, even if it’s just in my head. No pressure but I just wanna smile for a bit and your work always makes me do so :)))

Hello lovely! I’m so sorry that you were stood up--that feels awful and whoever did it missed out on a wonderful person. I’ve combined this with some other asks in the same vein (y’all wanted my boys to hurt) so I hope you don’t mind. Sending love and hugs your way! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove​ <3

1. Bad mental health day for Finn + pushing himself too hard + passing out (ft. Bee anon!)

2. O’Knutzy boiling over with a fluffy ending

3. Insecure Leo

TW for internalized guilt, vaguely implied self-harm (pushing himself too hard at practice), and relationship arguments

Finn had a few bad habits. He left dirty dishes in the sink, could never remember which setting the laundry was supposed to go on, and barely wiped his shoes on the doormat before entering the house. He wasn’t proud of his flaws, but he acknowledged that everyone had some—as long as they didn’t hurt anybody, it wasn’t the end of the world.

This one…this one was different. Even Finn knew that.

He gritted his teeth for the next set of squats, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the climbing nausea in his gut. The chart only said to do three reps, but he had been beating himself up for slacking a set earlier in the week and decided to do five to make up for it.

That, it seemed, was a poor decision.

His thighs were shaking when he finally put the weight down and he leaned on the wall to stabilize himself. “Fish? You okay?” Logan asked from the yoga mat to his right, staring up at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Finn lied. “Just straightened up too fast.”

“D’accord.” He could feel Logan’s eyes on his back as he left the gym and headed toward the showers.

Finn’s worst habit was taking care of himself, and it wasn’t something that could be explained away as “oh, silly Harzy” like the washing machine. He made a mental note to take some ibuprofen before driving home so he would be marginally less sore in the morning, but he had the sinking feeling it would be a rough practice the next day.

Remus and Talker were playing some sort of volleyball with an old balloon between their stalls when he entered; he missed getting nailed in the head by a narrow margin and waved off their apologies with a forced smile.

A hand closed around his bicep as he passed, snapping him back to reality as Leo’s bright eyes came into focus. “Hey, lovey, is Lo with you?”

“He’s finishing up.”

A small furrow appeared between Leo’s brows. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Finn faked a yawn and stretched his arm over Leo’s shoulder, dragging him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Cap’s workout just kicked my ass today.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes playfully as he passed. “You’re not a rookie anymore, O’Hara.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Logan entered the locker room a few minutes later; Finn closed his eyes and breathed in the thick steam of the shower until the fog in his head cleared a bit and he couldn’t feel the skin on his shoulders. It billowed off him as he dressed again and tossed the keys to Leo, who raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You. There’s a little bit of slush left, and you still need to learn how to drive in it.” And I feel like I’m going to pass out at any minute. He swallowed down the last thought and pasted a teasing grin on his face—what Leo and Logan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It was his own fault for being lazy in the past.

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

What Leo and Logan didn’t know apparently did hurt them. In hindsight, Finn should have seen that coming before he passed out in the middle of a scrimmage.

The lights of the coach’s office made his headache even worse. “Care to explain?” Arthur asked in a voice like frost. To his left, Sirius was glowering.

“I already told Hestia—”

“Yeah, I know what you told Hestia,” Arthur interrupted. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

Finn sighed through his nose and picked at a stray thread on his jersey. “I…I pushed myself a little too hard at yesterday’s practice and didn’t say anything when I started feeling bad.”

“Why.” Sirius’ eyes were hard as flint.

“Because I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass! I can handle some aching muscles, it’s not a big deal!”

“Not a—”

Arthur put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “That’s enough, Black. O’Hara, I want you to look me in the eyes.” Finn raised his head. “This was a dumbass mistake and all of us expected better from you. Your safety and health come before any workout routine, and it is your responsibility to speak up before you scare the shit out of us by dropping like a rock.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. I also want you to call Heather when you get home and schedule an appointment with her.” Some of Arthur’s frustration melted into genuine concern and guilt crawled up Finn’s throat. “Doing that to yourself isn’t healthy, Finn. You’re a good man, smart, and I know you know better.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Sirius asked quietly, glancing at Arthur. He nodded and left the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Finn?” Sirius ran a hand down his face, suddenly pale. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part.”

“I slacked off a set on Monday.”

“Wow, nobody’s ever done that before,” he said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair by the wall as Finn resumed messing with his hem. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m upset that you thought you had to do that at all.”

Tears prickled the backs of Finn’s eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sure as hell not your coach or your dad, but I’m going to say this as your friend, okay?” Sirius leaned over into Finn’s field of view. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you. We need you to take care of yourself, Harzy.”

Finn nodded silently and Sirius gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned. “Does everyone know?”

“I told them you were under the weather, nothing more.”

“Classic media answer.” He tried and failed to crack a smile. “Thanks for not telling on me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is herding cats on ice skates for five hours a day.”

Finn’s smile was real that time and he managed a light laugh as he swiped away the dampness on his cheeks. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius helped him stand up and hugged him tight for a second before letting go. “Speaking as someone who used to do the exact same thing, talking to Heather makes a world of difference.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

The cold feeling returned to Finn’s gut when they stepped out of the office; Leo and Logan were waiting by the opposite wall, looking angrier than Finn had ever seen. Sirius patted his shoulder once before walking off down the hallway toward the locker room, where he would no doubt deflect even more questions.

“Hey,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. Logan continued to stare at the ground.

“You lied to us,” Leo said bluntly. “Several times. Both of us asked if you were alright and you told us you were fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t understand.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Finn, this isn’t how we deal with things. We agreed to be a team.”

Finn bit his lip. I fucked this one up. “We did. I am so sorry for scaring you—”

“We’re not mad that you scared us,” Logan snapped, still looking anywhere but his face. “We’re upset that you refuse to take care of yourself and then lied to us about it.”

Leo nudged Logan’s shoulder before turning back. “Why did you do that, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. I was just trying to make up for the set I skipped on Monday.”

“What? Twenty squats and some pushups? That’s not worth your health, honey.” The pet name soothed the terror clutching Finn’s heart and he took a deep breath. They still loved him. This wasn’t the end.

“It was a stupid thing to do and it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Let’s go home.” Logan grabbed his duffel bag off the ground and started walking toward the door; Leo looked like he was going to say something, but Finn gently took his elbow.

“He’s going to need a minute,” he said under his breath. Logan was a hothead about many things, but lying was in the top three. Finn knew he hurt him deep.

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and pressed his lips together as they followed Logan into the parking lot. “Did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Finn shook his head. “No. This was all on me.”

“It’s just that I know I’m younger than both of you and I’m new to the hockey lifestyle, but I never want you to think you can’t trust me—”

“Leo.” Finn stopped walking and tugged on Leo’s hand, turning him around. Worry was painted all over his face and it sliced to Finn’s core. “I trust you and Logan with everything, but I got into my head about this and I wasn’t thinking about how it would hurt you. Please believe that.”

Leo sighed. “I do. I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Logan was already sitting in the car with his headphones on as they crossed the lot. “It’s going to take him a while to talk to me, isn’t it?”

“He was really upset.”

“We’ll figure this out.” He tightened his grip on Leo’s hand. “We’ve made it through worse.”

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

The apartment crackled with tension until Finn literally had to stick his head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. Waves of frustration and hurt rolled off Logan, though he still refused to look Finn in the eyes.

After dinner, Leo slid into the armchair before Logan could get there, leaving only the couch available. They carefully sat on opposite sides—Finn stole glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye for the entire first half of the movie. Ninety minutes of action later, he felt something chilly poking at his calf.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the TV as he scooted his freezing toes under Finn’s legs. Relief flooded Finn’s veins; he felt a little like crying, but instead schooled his expression into a small smile and rested his hand on Logan’s ankle, where it stayed until the movie ended.

Leo had fallen asleep by that time, splayed out sideways on the cushion with his face smushed against the armrest. “Il est mignon,” Logan said softly. There was a beat of silence and he looked over at Finn. “He’s cute.”

“He is.” Finn cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Finn had a few bad habits, but backing out on his promises would never be one of them.

[rjhpandapaws]

This is for the ask event! The prompt I have is where Connor is struggling with being deviant after the revolution. He tries to act just like a non-deviant towards everyone. And when Hank realizes what's going on, he tries to comfort Connor. He tries to tell Connor that he doesn't have to be 'just a robot' anymore.

//I am in love with this! Thank you!!!!

It was the jacket, if Hank had to pick the first tiny red flag after the revolution that had him worried for Connor. He hadn’t gotten rid of that damn jacket, it was like a brand and Hank hated it. These things took time he supposed. One week you were a machine designed to track and hunt your own kind, the next you were a person. It was not only a big change but a sudden one. Hank could understand the difficulty to let go of it; there were things he still carried with him after all. The next was the way he spoke, it was still measured and artificial. Connor was still trying to please whomever he was with. It had been easy at first to just assume that Connor’s personality was that of someone who was mild mannered, it would make sense. There were two issues with that though; someone who was mild mannered probably wouldn’t have broken your god damned kitchen window to get inside when they were otherwise capable of getting through the door, and the fact when Hank had casually asked his opinion on something he was well aware Connor wouldn’t have liked he rolled to red for a long moment before picking an answer designed to appease him. Hank would have liked to say that he understood the struggle; but he didn’t, becoming an alcoholic was easy. Becoming a sentient being, he had to imagine was not. The one thing Hank considered himself well versed in though, was taking baby steps, if AA had taught him anything, that was the place to start. Find the smallest thing Connor was struggling with and start there. It seemed easy enough; until Hank thought about the fact that it involved getting Connor to open up to him honestly rather than just trying to say what he thought Hank wanted to hear.

Connor had a particular fondness for Sumo, perhaps he could be the icebreaker. Hank was well aware that he was probably putting more thought into this than a ‘concerned coworker’ ought to, but you could only watch someone come into themself so many times before you were invested, and the number of times Connor had been through this just during the case was well over whatever that number was. The kid deserved a break, god knows he earned it after every thing. So that was his plan. Invite Connor over to see Sumo and go from there. He wasn’t sure what he would do, but he had seen glimpses of who Connor was beneath his coding and he wanted to let that version of him out. A selfish motive? Probably, but that was okay. Connor had been suspicious, which was fair. Hank hadn’t been all that great to him at first, but his fascination with dogs apparently had won out and he agreed to come over on Saturday and spend the day with them. Of course, the one part of this plan Hank had overlooked was needing to have his house somewhat presentable. Sure Connor had seen it before, but Hank liked to believe he had made progress since then. The state of his house would dare to disagree.

His evenings amounted to a marginally successful attempt to give Sumo a bath, cleaning his house, and trying to find bottled thirium that wasn’t overly expensive. He found a carbonated kind that he thought Connor might find interesting and bought that as well. He also bought beer, but he could tweak that into a good friend didn’t let their guest drink alone. Connor probably wouldn’t believe it, but that was an issue for another time. The thing about keeping busy was that the weekdays tended to roll by a little faster, so it was Saturday before Hank was mentally prepared for it. He reminded himself that he wasn’t trying to solve this problem; if he was honest, he knew he probably couldn’t even if he tired; he was just looking for a starting point. Something to give Connor to remind him of his agency. That didn’t make him anymore ready for the long buzz of his doorbell at ten in the morning. That was one thing that was uniquely Connor he supposed, the kid rang doorbells like an ass. Hank chuckled at the thought as he opened the door and used his free hand to hold on to Sumo’s collar so he wouldn’t knock Connor over. “I hope I’m not here too early.” Connor said in way of a greeting as he came inside. “You’re fine.” Hank responded, “I’ll be honest though, when I said you could come over at anytime today I was worried you show up at the ass crack of dawn.” “I thought about it.” Connor smiled, it was his artificial one, but it was better than nothing, “But you aren’t known for being up in the mornings.”

Hank rolled his eyes as he let go of Sumo, he was glad for the banter. Sumo was glad for the company as he immediately jumped on Connor. For a moment Hank was worried Connor would be knocked flat, but he only moved one of his feet back half a step and braced himself. He held Sumo’s weight and gladly showered him in attention while Sumo investigated their new houseguest. It was only slight, but Connor’s calculated exterior thawed some. That was progress. Sumo seemed to have satisfied his curiosity and settled back on the floor, though he kept close to his new friend. The smile was still on Connor’s lips but it was softer now, a little more natural and Hank wondered if he even knew he was doing it. “Did you need help with a case?” Connor asked as Hank moved toward the living room. “No.” Hank replied, “I could use the company and you could use a break.” “I don’t need to take breaks. I can incapable of feeling exhaustion.” Came Connor’s remark. “Trust me kid, just because you don’t feel it, or aren’t ‘supposed’ to doesn’t mean its not there.” Hank explained as he settled onto the couch, “You’ve been through a lot, and while you might be feeling alright, that doesn’t mean you aren’t stressed. One day alright, that’s all I’m asking.”

Connor was standing at the far end of the couch and he was on red again, and oblivious to Sumo nudging at his hand. He had never seen Connor with so much emotion on his features, he felt guilty that the emotion of the moment seemed to be panic, but he would take that over the blank expression that was his default. “How - hypothetically speaking of course- how would someone know they were stressed... If they had never felt such a thing before?” Hank hummed as Connor sat down on the couch and finally paid mind to Sumo again. “Hypothetically speaking, it would come across as losing interest in the things that person liked to do; things like work, licking god awful substances, asking invasive questions, and telling their partner exactly what inedible things are in their chicken sandwich. Then its falling back on the routines you have built for yourself or learned from others and following them rigidly, anything to make things more manageable. They might distance themself from the people around them and bury themself in work, because they need to keep busy.” He watched Connor’s LED roll, it was blue with flicks of yellow on occasion, and Hank was almost certain he saw a flash of red once. Connor was absently petting the top of Sumo’s head as he chased his own thoughts. Hank had never seen him this pensive before, not even at the worst of their crime scenes. “Hypothetically speaking again, how would you suggest someone overcome that stress?”

“Take a break.” Hank said without hesitating, “A day or a weekend to just be. Whatever that means for them, spending time with a friend, going clothes shopping, licking something questionable. Something that they liked that they haven’t gotten to do in a while.” “So, if they wanted to get rid of a jacket or some clothes, that would be okay?” Connor didn’t quite drop the pretense of the hypothetical, but internally Hank cheered. “I would say they should go for it.” He said with a smile. “Hank. I would like to burn my issued clothes if that is ok.” Connor said in a serious enough tone that had Hank choking on a laugh. “When it starts getting dark we can have a bon fire, but first we need to get you something else to wear.” Hank agreed. While it wasn’t how he thought today would go, Hank counted it as a victory.

@inverted-writes

(Prompt from this list)

[sweetestlamb]

Leave the Door Open

Summary: He doesn’t hate having someone in his house. Having her in his house but he knows he should.

Author Notes: Vincenzo was a roller coaster this weekend and I LOVED it every adrenaline filled, angst inducing moment of it all. They are pining in 4K and I had to write this. I am salivating waiting for their first kiss. I hope it’s crazy and impulsive and filled with ineedyouithoughtilostyou energy, it might be cliché but I am a simple woman. Until then I present more domestic(sometimes horny) Chayenzo moments this was very freeform I went in with nothing and just let my brain go crazy. There’s some angst again LOL oops

It’s unnervingly easy to get used to, having another person in his space despite his years of solitude and purposely pushing others away. Women had tried to sleep over before, sweat clinging to their naked skin as they coyly brushed a finger under the sheet trying to entice him to let them stay. It never worked. Not once. Sex was one thing- he loved being in control and hearing his name breathless on their lips as they writhed and screamed on his silk sheets- but sleeping over was a completely different animal and he was never stupid enough to give them that much leeway. It was dangerous for them to think this was something more than it was, he had an itch and they could scratch it. There were no feelings involved, at least from his end. 

So when she showed up on his doorsteps and the urge to drag her into his arms overwhelmed him that should have been his first warning, danger danger do not proceed. 

But she pushed past him before he could close the door in her face and unfortunately at the same moment he had a spasm in his hand and hesitated for just one second allowing her enough time to bulldoze her way into his apartment. He had contemplated kicking her still out but the look on her face stopped him in his tracks, she looked scared- ridiculously so. Even as she stuttered out nonsense about the suspicious hoteliers who wanted to harm her and made a show of swinging her bag as she told the story of the man breaking the lock on her hotel room, he could see the slight tremble in her fingers. 

She was always a lightning rod of energy but that night it had been different. Her movements had been panicked and the urge to protect her overrode his self preservation. 

It was a clear erroneous mistake on his part. 

She’s comfortable around him, that much becomes clear all too fast when he wakes up to her swaying in the kitchen over a boiling pot on the stove- some kind of soup, he can smell the aroma of miso wafting across the room- but what catches his attention is her clothes, or lack of. 

There is miles and miles of bare skin from his angle on the ground, her loose sleep shorts barely covering her legs and he raises an eyebrow as he takes in the top half of her body. Her wet hair drips onto the flowing pristine white shirt that is peeking out from beneath a cardigan. She’s taken a shower. Just moments ago, she had been naked in his shower, water cascading down her slim body curving over her breasts and sliding down her flat stomach in long slow streams until it reached her wet....

“Oh you’re awake! I made soup, let’s eat before work.” She brightly calls out to him, using his ragged oven mittens to transfer the steaming pot over to the low rising table in the center of his tiny living room. 

His eyes savor her every move as she flounces over to him in that annoying way that he is starting to find cute. She carefully folds her legs beneath her bottom as she joins him on the ground, her smooth makeup free face coming into his line of vision. He’d always assumed that it was her lip tint making her mouth so red and plush and so goddamn alluring, but even bare the twin petals are too much for his sleep laden brain to handle. He sits up curling his blanket in his lap, balling up the material to better hide his little morning problem. He almost hopes this is a dream, it wouldn’t be the first time she visited him in one. They usually ended in sinuous screams and naked limbs twisting but sometimes they were like this, just simple moments that made him wake up with an ache in his chest. Those dreams terrified him the most. 

“Yah! Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Her voice cuts through the arousal thick fog in his brain, light pats on his cheek rousing him from his untoward thoughts. “What are you thinking about anyway? Why are you so distracted?” Her eyes narrow as she glances at him, slowly descending down his body almost reaching his groin and he flushes red coughing loudly before quickly moving closer to the table, hiding his lap entirely from her wandering eyes. 

Their eyes meet in a tense lock and she looks curious and something darker that he has been seeing in her eyes the more they work together. He watches swallowing a groan as she leisurely licks her lips chasing the drops of soup that have escaped. 

They don’t have time for this. There is so much to do and a part of him fears that she is using him as a distraction because she’s scared about her break-in, despite his constant warnings it had been her first real experience with how far Babel was willing to go to silence them, the first time she was in the line of fire. He had been her “hero” and that was evidently confusing her, making her think he was something better than he was. Contrary to the lie he had cowardly told her, he was nothing but a murderer. Once she saw him for what he truly was, she would want nothing to do with him- she was still a good person after all underneath her armor and brazen attitude. 

He wants her and that is exactly why he can’t have her. 

Those thoughts knock any desire promptly out of his body, he couldn’t forget that he wasn’t worthy of love. 

Problem finally resolved he stands up, “Sorry I’m not a morning person. I need to use the bathroom, thank you for the breakfast. I’ll be back.” He can feel her eyes on him the entire way to the bathroom, those huge doe-like eyes that make him want to be a better man, but surely it’s too late for someone like him. 

Right? 

They had separated after work, him meeting up with Mr. Cho secretly to discuss the fate of the gold, it was another long conversation that left them with more complications rather than solutions and he can see the frustration on the other man’s face. He will have to keep an eye on that in case it becomes something problematic. 

Something he has to handle, regrettably. 

He yanks at the stiff ball of his necktie loosening it as he pushes his key into the lock and presses the door open, he hears her laughter before he sees her almost tripping on her black high heels carelessly discarded at the door. He pauses with a rumble, “First she breaks into my house and now she almost kills me at my own front door,” with a sigh he straightens the shoes, slipping off his own and stepping into his house slippers. 

His heart lurches at the first sight of her, she’s wrapped up in the blanket he had placed around her quivering shoulders the night of the break in, only her head visible from the swaddle. She’s watching some variety show he has never watched but knows is popular here, a can of beer thankfully on a coaster on the table and too many empty bottles of soju. She turns to look at him when she senses his presence, that also disarms him because he is a man who can go undetected if he pleases and he had not made a sound upon his entry, yet she still knew he was here. 

Then she makes him weak in the knees when she shoots a soft smile his way, her rosy lips slightly upturned but its the glow in her eyes that captivates him, those dark orbs come to life when they land on him as if they were waiting for him to flush with life and vibrancy. 

“You’re home!” She calls out, still beaming at him and he stands frozen in the line of fire. She casually pats the cushion next to her, motioning him over as high pitched loud voices patter out from his TV. 

Home. He has hardly ever used that word himself, long given up on the idea of having a place to call home. But seeing her like this, a fire that had been snuffed out a long time ago starts to rekindle, a desire he had long suppressed starts to bubble back to the surface. 

I should leave. 

He thinks foolishly, but he finds himself walking over to her, skin pebbling when a warm small hand reaches out and drags him the rest of the way from his suspended form.  

“What took you so long? Why didn’t you answer my calls? I wanted you to get us some soju.” She snuggles into his arm as if this is normal for them, and with an urgent awakening he realizes that it is. Constant and casual touches flash in his memory, his hand on her shoulder as he escorts her way, her hands on his back as she carries his intoxicated body, arms wrapped around each other as they walk away from the scum that is Babel. His hands always find her body as if it’s a heat seeking missile and not once has she pushed him away, on contrary she moves into his touches and returns them just as frequently. As if they belong to each other, as if they are each other’s to touch. 

What game exactly are they playing? 

He has never lost before but suddenly it feels like his defeat is imminent. 

“You already drank all the soju in the fridge? Are you an alcoholic? Should I have you admitted?” He grumbles trying to diffuse the situation but she chuckles at his words, resting her head on his shoulder now as she peers up at him with glossy eyes. His control wavers, fluttering like a flag in the wind. 

“After everything I’ve done that’s the thing you want to get me admitted for?” She teases giggling into his collarbone and her breath ignites a flame on his skin that spreads like wildfire. “Oh. Why are you so red?” 

He jolts up, only feeling marginally guilty when she falls head first onto the couch with his sudden disappearance. When she glares up at him he has to smother a smile at the cute affronted look on her face, he is a mafia member he shouldn’t use words like “cute” but he’s constantly breaking his rules because of her. 

He escapes to his bedroom, surprisingly pigeon feather free the window securely closed for once and he looks back towards the living room with a smile, she was full of surprises. With a groan he pops his shoulder, letting the day’s tension melt away as he takes off his suit piece by piece, breathing easier when he unknots the tie and tosses it to his bed. When he is down to his boxers, he ambles over to his dresser taking out his silk pajamas- she loved to tease him about them but after running a sneaky hand over his arm, she has admitted that they felt nice on your skin- he had desperately wanted her to keep going. Dragging the bottoms on first he slides on the top, fingers on the top button when his bedroom door bursts open making him still his movement. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I ordered fried chicken that’s why I needed soj...nnngghh” her words trail off into nonsense as she sputters at him, eyes immediately locked on the lower half of his body and he almost laughs at her wide eyed stare before she walks closer, a hand outreached as she penetrates his skin with her unblinking stare. He can see the red blush spread across her bridge of her nose and he wonders if it’s from the alcohol she has consumed or if it’s something else? 

She answers his questions with another step toward him, unflinching beneath his hard stare and he instinctively recoils, stepping back out of her reach but she double steps until they are inches apart, her fingertips hovering above his abs and then she closes the distance, stroking the ridges on his stomach making him groan, unable to contain the deep sound and he grabs her hand. 

He can’t let his go any further. 

“What are you doing? Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was naked?” 

The blush covers her face completely at his words and he watches fascinated as her pupils dilate and a hungry look flashes across her pretty face. 

She doesn’t look scandalized at the idea. He has seen that look many times. From her, more times than he wants to confront. 

“Cha-young.” He states her name firmly, making her eyes snap away from his body at least this time she looks ashamed of herself for ogling him, but not tremendously so. It’s not lost on him that she hasn’t tried to leave the room once. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”  

It’s a warning. For both of them really. 

It can tell by the twitch in her eyebrow she sees it as a challenge, without a word she grabs him by his shoulder tugging him closer until they are flush, her soft breasts pressing into his firm stomach and he groans when he realizes he can feel the flesh too vividly, she’s not wearing bra. Fuck. 

“Who said I couldn’t finish it?” She retorts peering up at him with those gleaming eyes, too many emotions swirling around for him to pinpoint what is the driving force behind her actions.

His arms wrap around her waist, bringing her closer despite there being no room felt to do so. She moans prettily at his tight grip swaying unevenly into him. 

She’s drunk. 

He suddenly recalls all the empty bottles of soju on the table and he loosens his hold, he refuses to take advantage of her no matter how willing she seems right now, it’s the alcohol distorting her thoughts. He releases her waist and puts his hands between them. 

“You aren’t in your right mind right now, we should stop.” 

She shakes her head disagreeing, “I got drunk because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The alcohol didn’t make me want you, it made me do something about it.” 

He blinks at the comment feeling like her words are intoxicating him. His thoughts are incoherent. 

“I know you want me too. Don’t push me away.” She pleads and he feels his resolve crumbling as he watches her bite at her lower lip, wringing her hands between them. She seems...nervous. Scared of his rejection. 

It’s not fitting on the Cha-young he has grown to know and l...like. 

With a sigh he steps forward much to her apparent shock, wrapping his arms around her in an awkward hug, complete with too rough pats on her back and he wonders if he did the right thing when she stands frozen in his arms but then she laughs brokenly before sniffling and burrowing her head into his chest. He can feel the wetness pooling on his skin, he hugs her tighter ignoring the voice in his head warning him that he’s letting her get too close.

it’s already much too late anyway. 

He lets her cry on him until he hears admittedly gross sniffles and he starts to fear for his skin, tears are one thing but mucus is another. He might like her but there is still a line, snot is his line. 

Thankfully, when he drags her away from him her nose isn’t running, just large tears streaming down her face. Looking at that face, he would probably allow her to drip snot on him; she looks so pitiful- it’s probably the first time she has allowed herself to feel her emotions and not put on a brave front for him. 

He longs to tell her that it isn’t necessary, ever. He doesn’t need her to put on a show, he will accept her no matter what there is no version of her that isn’t perfectly imperfect in his eyes. 

But he can never say those words to her. 

“Let me put my shirt on and I’ll meet you in the living room.” He pushes her lightly, playfully glaring and shooing her away when she doesn’t immediately leave taking one final moment to ogle his body. He tries not to preen and fails horribly, it’s hard not to when the woman he wants so badly clearly wants him too- at least physically. 

She whispers something that sounds like, “You don't have to,” and he raises an eyebrow watching her leave finally, with a long suffering sigh he stares down at his overly interested friend willing it away before dragging on his shirt. 

it’s going to be a long night. 

He can smell the delicious aroma of fried chicken when he finally exits the bedroom, she offers a leg to him as soon as he’s close enough and he easily accepts the food with a bite, letting her feed him until all that remains is the bone. 

“You eat so well.” She praises and he flushes in embarrassment at her words, or more accurately at the feeling that swells up in his stomach at her deceptively maternal words. Unaware of his thoughts she continues feeding him until the food is all gone and she is looking at him with a satisfied grin. 

He tries not to become too excited when she licks the grease from her fingers, before putting the bones on a plate. 

“Here, have some wine. The storekeeper said it was popular in Italy.” 

She places the rounded curve of the wine glass at his lip and he inhales the intoxicating scent, Barolo, he can already smell the sweetness of the Nebbiolo grapes that have been long fermenting, it’s not a cheap bottle of wine or easy to acquire, not even for him while living in their country of origin. She must have looked all over to find that particular brand here in Korea. 

He stares at her with a softness he has never felt for another, not even her late father. This is bigger and more consuming, the respect he felt for the man seems to pale in comparison to the bundle of emotions he feels for his daughter. 

“Thank you.” 

She simply stares, before returning his gaze and he accepts the wine glass by the stem tipping the deep colored liquid into his mouth, flavors dancing on his taste buds and he moans freely at the delicious taste. 

They are already sitting closely, too much so for just coworkers but she moves nearer at his subconscious response, their knees knock into each other. 

“Is it that good?” She whispers breathless, staring at his mouth. Again. 

He nods dumbly, freezing when he feels her hand on his thigh. 

“Let me see.” 

He watches in a daze as she leans closer to him, his eyes following her face as she draws nearer and then he closes his eyes, tired of fighting this magnetic connection between them, he’s only a man and a bad one at that, he’s not good enough to keep pushing her away. He waits impatiently to feel the swell of her lips on his and blinks his eyes open when he feels a sudden weight on the wine glass instead, her lips curl around the ridge where his lips had just been. Taking his hand in hers, she lifts the glass and tilts it back into her mouth swallowing the liquid in a deep gulp before she pushes it back towards him, with a loud smack of her lips before moving back to her spot on the cushion. 

“Mmmmm, you’re right that’s really good.” 

His tongue is heavy in his mouth and his brain isn’t functioning well enough to give a response beyond staring at her with his mouth gaped. 

“What’s wrong were you expecting something else? Did I get your hopes up? It’s not nice is it? ” She teases obnoxiously tsking at him body loose on the arm rest opposite of him and he knows exactly what she’s alluding to, recalls her face as he had leaned across the small space of the car. She hadn’t looked scandalized in that moment either. 

No, she looked ready to risk it all. He was the coward who couldn’t risk anything. 

He leans back with a huff, folding his arms. 

“I guess it’s true, revenge is a dish best served cold. Do you feel good about yourself?” He pushes his lips out, not pouting whatsoever. 

Mafia men don’t pout. 

She snickers from the left of him, poking at this cheek gleefully. 

“Oh my god, are you pouting? You big baby! You did it to me first!” 

He has no argument to that so he doesn’t refute the claim, he just silently glares at the tv not hearing anything despite the volume being quite loud. 

“Next time let’s both be brave enough to finish what we started.” 

He turns to look at her, blinded by the hopeful smile on her face. 

Maybe he’s wrong and it’s more than physical for her too. 

If that’s true, then he needs to sever this bond sooner rather than later. 

He doesn’t reply to her, drinking more wine to occupy his mouth and she doesn’t push him, humming before turning her attention back to the tv. 

He collects all her different laughs while they watch the mindless show, the soft giggles and the full body guffaws that make her slap his knee and spill over into his space, her long hair thrown across his lap. He gives up on stopping her and finds himself smiling at her joy, offering her water when she starts to choke from laughing too hard. He pats her back and rubs her until she can speak easily again, she’s seriously a hazard to herself and he tells her as much. 

She cheekily replies, “That’s why I need you then, you’re my Italian hero.” 

He refutes that claim but he knows that she’s right, he would destroy anyone who tried to harm one hair on her head. 

Moments later when he hears her light snores, he turns the tv off and makes to stand up and put some much needed distance between them but she halts him with a gentle plea, “Don’t leave me alone please.” 

He stills at her words, staring at her closed eyes praying that she’s dreaming about someone else. That those words aren’t for him, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to ignore her appeal. 

When her head falls heavily on his shoulder again, her body distractingly warm pressed against his own he knows he should push her away it’s the only way they can both get out of this unscathed. 

But his decision making is all but obliterated, so he stupidly leans his head onto hers, deeply inhaling the sweet vanilla of her shampoo instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, dragging the blanket over both their bodies, silencing his heart when it jumps at her easily molding into him and softly murmuring his name from deep slumber, “Vincenzo.” 

Just for tonight, he will let himself have this. 

One night only. 

It’s all he can afford.