#and that hurts so bad bc i don’t want one without the other so instead i get neither

[girlsdads]

starting to get upset about daniel again this is a sign i need to sleep 😭

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[atlabeth]

(please) spare me indignity

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies. 

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it. 

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box. 

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy. 

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break. 

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.” 

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?” 

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.” 

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well. 

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.” 

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?” 

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.” 

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open. 

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good. 

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home. 

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere. 

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.” 

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away. 

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would. 

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again. 

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out. 

You frown. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!” 

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.” 

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it. 

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.” 

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says. 

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it. 

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest. 

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.” 

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back. 

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.  

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason. 

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him. 

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself. 

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care. 

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away. 

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls. 

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” 

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly. 

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person. 

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.” 

-

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off. 

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are. 

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room. 

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn. 

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—” 

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look. 

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?” 

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask. 

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says. 

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation. 

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize. 

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.” 

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.” 

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you. 

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one. 

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.” 

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it. 

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks. 

“Fine,” you say. 

He frowns. “Really?” 

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.” 

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—” 

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt. 

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says. 

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?” 

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—” 

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.” 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.” 

“Am I not allowed to joke?” 

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.” 

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.” 

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?” 

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.” 

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—” 

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?” 

“A couple spoonfuls but—” 

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends. 

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.” 

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.” 

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.” 

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you. 

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says. 

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?” 

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.” 

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine. 

“Do they have any leads?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?” 

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.” 

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than  usual, but you drink it anyway. 

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.” 

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.” 

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.” 

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out. 

“Want one?” 

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“You should.” 

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock. 

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.” 

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?” 

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.” 

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.” 

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response. 

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now. 

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that. 

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you. 

-

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much. 

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever. 

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him. 

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true. 

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace. 

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion. 

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?” 

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.” 

Spencer sits up. “What is it?” 

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.” 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—” 

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.” 

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?” 

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.” 

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.” 

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.” 

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.” 

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.” 

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.” 

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. 

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—” 

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—” 

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?” 

“...Some,” Spencer says. 

“Like?” 

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him. 

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.” 

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.” 

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.” 

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.  

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says. 

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.” 

“Spencer—” 

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?” 

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him. 

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom. 

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you. 

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach. 

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear. 

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters. 

He hangs up without another word. 

[peachhcs]

through the feeds → social media post

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy x will)

some jumbled together recent posts on instagram from samy & the crew!

wanted to change some things up, so here’s some social media discourse from everyone & what they’ve been doing lately & probably the longest social media fic i’ve done (can u spot the mention of my other au that i haven't worked on since like february😭)

au masterlist

samyhughes some of summer & some of first sem

view all comments

user1 and she’s eating as always

user2 love love loveeee herrrr

hannahduke and she’s eating! and she’s slaying! mama..a hot girl behind you!

| samyhughes PEAK brain rot u are so funny

| hannahduke yeah i know don’t have to tell me 😌

| nick.moldenhauer i know that’s right!

| samyhughes get out of my comments with that

edwards.73 wow she's all grown up can't believe it

| samyhughes what am i gonna do without u next year ����

| edwards.73 don't remind me.

teddystiga_ no will???

| samyhughes he was in my last post

user3 wowowo ur gorg actually i wanna be u

user4 to be samy hughes wow

jameshagens_4 pro golfer right here

| samyhughes yeah i know what can i sayyyy

lhughes_06 where am i?? jack?? quinn? will?

| samyhughes dawg we barely took any pics together this summer u can't be talking

markestapa our sophomore ❤️

| samyhughes our senior citizen ❤️

zeevbuium28 damn what did will do to u 💔

| samyhughes plsssss he did nothing i swear

_quinnhughes come back to van

| samyhughes buy my ticket? 😁

ryan.leno_4 wow she's so michigan

| samyhughes wow i am

julianne_gelinas come back to boston we miss u

| samyhughes SEE YA THANKSGIVING!

jackhughes kind of hurt i'm not featured but when tf did u go golfing??

| samyhughes with will 🤗

| jackhughes bruh so u can go with him and not us

user5 will's so luckyyyy

user6 if samy has no fans i'm dead

gabeperreault44 wow these are good!

| samyhughes wow thanks gp! see ya in boston next week

rutgermcgroarty making me miss mich

| samyhughes it's not the same without u

kayleighdocherty_ sooo pretty samy!

| samyhughes love u kay!

aram_minnetian justice for my man wow

| samyhughes @_willsmith2 pls tell them i still love you

| _willsmith2 she doesn't love me anymore

user7 she knowsss she's hot

user8 still can't believe she's dating will smith

mackcelebrini san jose visit soon?

| samyhughes in the off season!

beckettsennecke_ make that san jose visit an anaheim one as well

| samyhughes on it!

_willsmith2 wow ur so cool

| samyhughes no way u too

_willsmith2 i'm in love with you

| samyhughes i'm in love with YOU come see me soon

_willsmith2 all good things 〽️📍

view all comments

gabeperreault44 FIRST LIKE

gabeperreault44 wow ok made the cut on last pic i guess??

gabeperreault44 THREE photos of samy and ONE of me...damn..

gabeperreault44 ALSO 5th pic???? crazyyyyyy but we know what u guys were up to...😏

| _willsmith2 four comments? new record for you. at least u made the cut and what can i say? i love my girlfriend

ryan.leno_4 we ALLL know why u posted pics 4 and 5..

| _willsmith2 shut up

lhughes_06 i can't believe my sister makes the instagram more than i do now.

| _willsmith2 sorry moosey 😭

lhughes_06 i also don't approve of pic 5. i thought we talked about this and ur hands..

| _willsmith2 i plead the 5th

user1 WOW this man really loves his gf where is my hockey bf

user2 sooo why aren't all hockey men like this bc COME ON 3 photos for her in this post????

zeevbuium28 ur sooo down bad hahaha

| _willsmith2 and what about it

jameshagens_4 honestly i respect

| ryan.leno_4 at least u got a feature 😭

rutgermgroarty u should kiss me instead

| _willsmith2 on my way!

mackcelebrini tuff

| _willsmith2 🥱

user3 hand placement helloooooo

user4 hottest couple fr

user5 these are so cute waittt awww

user6 i love when guys post their gfs all the time

edwards.73 we were chilling until pic 5...

| _willsmith2 i'm sorry 😭

markestapa so when's the wedding?

| _willsmith2 😳

jackhughes just glad to see u both really happy

| _willsmith2 wait thanks rowdy

_quinnhughes he's all grown up now

| _willsmith2 see u again in 3 🫡

user7 will immediately apologizing when ethan calls him out LMAO so funny

hannahduke this is basically a samy fan account now

| samyhughes i told u he was obsessed with me

aram_minnetian incredible, outstanding, breathtaking

| _willsmith2 what i do best

drewf2 yk what? hell yeah i appreciate the grind

| samyhughes MORE BRAIN ROT i can't escape it

| _willsmith2 how is this even brain rot? 😭

| samyhughes u just don't get it

julianne_gelinas she def trained u well

| samyhughes can't make him look like couch guy

| _willsmith2 now that's brain rot

michaelhagens_11 bagged it frrr

| _willsmith2 100%

graceccsmith so cutie will

| _willsmith2 miss u gracie ❤️

samyhughes 3 features?? wow i feel so special

| _willsmith2 u for sure are

samyhughes yuppp we look good in pic 5 idk what people are talking about

| _willsmith2 me neither😻

gabeperreault44 threw in some archival finds

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_willsmith2 awkward thumbs up for the win

| gabeperreault44 i honestly don't even remember that pic

ryan.leno_4 wow throwback for sure

| gabeperreault44 is that sarcasm

| ryan.leno_4 what makes you say that

aram_minnetian woooowwww 1st pic...😏

| gabeperreault44 like it? 😛

user1 AWWW the 4th pic is adorable

user2 i always wonder what prompts them to add these pics into the photo dump

drewf2 good shit

| gabeperreault44 soph szn 🔥

jacob_fowler24 wow ur so cool fr

| gabeperreault44 am i?

emmagcooper wow these are great gabe!

| gabeperreault44 wow thanks em!

user3 i miss seing leno smitty and gp all together at bc

user4 doesn't feel the same without smitty there with them😭

user5 he's the cutest omg

hannahduke great photo choices gabe!

| gabeperreault44 thanks hannah!

liliane_perreault so cute gp! miss u

| gabeperreault44 miss u too lili

jameshagens_4 wow so aesthetic

| gabeperreault44 trying something new yk

| michaelhagens_11 be real emma chose half of these for him

| emmagcooper now who said that??

samyhughes AWWW i miss u gabo come to michigan soon

| gabeperreault44 only if u come to boston first

eamonpowell_ looking fresh gp!

| gabeperreault44 appreciate it e

jperreault_44 looking good brotha

| gabeperreault44 thanks jp

_willvote this good 🔥

| gabeperreault44 🔥 u know it

rutgermcgroarty might cheer for bc this year...

| gabeperreault44 bold of u to say that on here

ryan.leno_4 not a lot going on

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gabeperreault44 TUFF lean

| ryan.leno_4 keeping it quiet 🤫

_willsmith2 is this contract posting?

| ryan.lneo_4 does it seem like it?

user1 crazy photo lineup tbh

user2 so adorable actually

user3 i love reading everyone's comments they're so funny

drewf2 GETTT ITTT

| ryan.leno_4 climbing our way uppp

aram_minnetian wow ur hot leno

| ryan.leno_4 no u

julianne_gelinas these are interesting pics to pair together

| ryan.leno_4 if u hate me just say it

| julianne_gelinas ur so weird

user4 i lowk wish i was friends with all of them they seem so fun to be around

user6 this post screams hockey kid

rutgermcgroarty yuppp fresh

| ryan.leno_4 🥱

jameshagens_4 mhmm u know it

michaelhagens_11 woah who's that in 3rd pic 😏

teddystiga_ WOAH 3rd pic...mhm

| gabeperreault44 i gyatt to know who it is

| samyhughes now this was crazy

| ryan.leno_4 😉

zeevbuium28 be mine? 😫

| ryan.leno_4 i'm taken already

samyhughes no julianne feature is criminal

| julianne_gelinas that's what i'm saying

| ryan.leno_4 pls don't cancel me

jacob_fowler24 u should marry me instead lean

| ryan.leno_4 tempting offer but i have to refuse

hannahduke i can't figure out the vibe of this tbh

| ryan.leno_4 it's ok u don't need to figure it out

_willvote my idol

| ryan.leno_4 ur my idol

hannahduke 3's my lucky number

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samyhughes ur KIDDING i love u

| hannahduke i LOVE U BABE

julianne_gelinas hotttttt omg

| hannahduke that's literally all u

user1 damn all of these friends are so good looking

user2 what does it take to be a part of this friend group?

nick_moldenhauer mich year 2

| hannahduke i love mich

dylanduke25 ur ugly

| hannahduke alright.

tyler__duke5 twin

| hannahduke my twin

kayleighdocherty_ literally adorable hannah

| hannahduke love uuuuu

alyssa_duke AWWW han i miss u so much ur so cute

| hannahduke miss u too lyss ❤️

user3 hannah duke > dylan and tyler

| user4 LMAOOOOOO

gabeperreault44 tuff hannah

| samyhughes these comments from them confuse me

| hannahduke no same

ryan.leno_4 nice rainbow

| hannahduke isn't it nice?

zeevbuium28 soo group meetup when?

| hannahduke ask miss hughes when we're going to the lake house @samyhughes

| samyhughes texting jack and quinn rn

_willsmith2 i see we're competing for the most samy feature rn...

| hannahduke oh i didn't know this turned into a competition.

| samyhughes guysss don't fight over me

samyhughes me and this team #team30 let's keep it coming 〽️

view all comments

gabeperreault44 this is 100% contract posting

| samyhughes ok and?

ryan.leno_4 ur so obvious when u contract post

| samyhughes bruhhh leave me alone

hannahduke woo super proud of u!!!

rutgermcgroarty ok contract posting

lhughes_06 NCAA TITLE SOON!!!

| samyhughes FINGERS CROSSED!

_quinnhughes wow!! #featureher #fyp

| samyhughes wow musical.ly core

user1 #1 PLAYERRR

user2 wishing the best for her national title soon!

user3 this girl does it all wow

user4 i wish i had the brains, the boy, the skill, the friends, the looks

kayleighdocherty_ YEAHH kill it!!

jackhughes taught u well 🥱

| samyhughes 🫡

edwards.73 wait i'm gonna miss watching u play

| samyhughes now don't get emotional or else i'll be emotional

markestapa gonna miss these friday-saturday-sunday 3-4 bender weekends

| samyhughes gonna miss watching u and eth sprint from the yost to the stands

seamuscasey26 supa cool little hughes

julianne_gelinas she's so cool and awesome omg

| samyhughes no that's u

jameshagens_4 ohhh she's a soccer starrr

| samyhughes ohhhhh

zeevbuium28 remember me when ur famous

| samyhughes for sure z dw

g.brindley4 coolest hughes!

| lhughes_06 now that's offensive

jacob_trucott20 i always knew i had a favorite hughes sibling

| lhughes_06 alright

aram_minnetian still no will feature damn

| samyhughes plsss give me a break

_willsmith2 ur actually the coolest wow

| samyhughes we can tie for 1st

mackcelebrini i had no idea u played soccer

| samyhughes shut up

beckettsennecke_ my inspiration

| samyhughes 😌

teddystiga_ yupppp love a good sports post

| samyhughes had to change it up

y’all lmk if u want more bc i love doing these 🙂‍↕️

[rubytuby]

surprise

patrick zweig x fem!reader 

word count: 3.3k (LOL)

warnings: established relationship with patrick because i'm lazy, art is your best friend, mentions of getting drunk but it's college so like to be expected… also allusions to sex haha but um i just love to write a cutesy plot.

note: i am normal about patrick zweig, i feel so normal about him #needthat. jokes, but i am in love with him its so bad, i wish he was real. also please don't be offended by my tashi erasure, still love her, but she didn't exactly fit in here. obv this is not canon bc you're dating patrick in stanford era instead of tashi, anyways, hope you enjoy <3.

FEBRUARY 23 2007, STANFORD

The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the tennis courts as you and Art wrapped up your practice session. Both of you were drenched in sweat, Art slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.

“So uh, want to walk back to the dorms together?” he asked, sounding overly eager.

You squinted at him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Sure, but I need to shower first. You know, make it seem like I haven’t been pushed to my physical limits,” you said, gesturing to your sweaty attire.

Art laughed. “You have a single, why don't you just wait until you get back to your dorm?”

You groaned, shoving your racket into your bag. “That's the problem. The maintenance guy showed up at 7:30 this morning to tell us they’re shutting off the water from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. only on my floor for some urgent plumbing issue.”

“Damn, that sucks. Are they even allowed to do that without giving anyone notice?”

“That's what I asked, but apparently, giving us 30 minutes notice is considered adequate. So, technically, they can,” you replied, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be quick, though. Just need to rinse off. If you don’t wanna wait for me to chill, you can walk back to the dorms. I won’t be offended.”

Art shook his head. “I’ve got time, I’ll wait. I’ve gotta call someone anyways,” he said plopping down the bench and pulling out his phone.

“Alright weirdo, if you’re sure,” you said, dropping your tote bag next to him. “I’ll be super quick.” With that, you darted off to the girls' locker room.

As soon as you disappeared, Art pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number. The phone barely rang before Patrick answered, his voice tense with impatience.

“Are you guys on the fucking way yet or am I going to have to wait longer?”

“Hello, sunshine!” Art greeted cheerily. “Your beloved is taking a quick shower. We’ll be there in about 25 to 30 minutes.”

Patrick groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you just tell her to shower in her dorm? I’ll lick the sweat off her if it means not waiting any longer.”

Art grimaced at his best friend’s comment. “The water’s out on her floor. She said she’s literally only rinsing off and changing. Just be patient. I’ll text you when to leave so we can time it perfectly.” A sigh rang out on the other line.

“If this plan doesn’t work and I’ve been hiding from my girlfriend for a couple hours for no reason, I’m going to seriously hurt you,” Patrick grumbled, staring out Art’s dorm window.

“Well she definitely thinks you're in New York visiting your parents,” Art paused, “I just had to talk her down from buying a plane ticket, so I think we’re good.”

“I told her I just got into the city a couple hours ago when I actually got to SFO. She was so upset yesterday when I said it’d be five days until we saw each other. She called me a fucking asshole, so I dont know what to do anymore.” Patrick said as he flopped onto Arts bed.

Art scribbled on his worksheet, humming in response. “Well, at least you know that she definitely misses you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she misses me or just wants to slap me in the face,” Patrick replied, exasperated.

Just then, Art saw you coming out of the locker room, chatting with one of your friends on the team. “Hopefully not the latter. Anyway she’s out. See you at 15. Don’t be late,” Art said flatly before hanging up, knowing Patrick and his unfortunate untimeliness. 

Art smiled up at you as you approached. “Who was that?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Our shared lover,” Art replied with a laugh, haphazardly shoving his worksheet and phone into his bag as he stood up.

“Aww, any exciting updates from Pat? He still stuck with his parents for another five days?” you teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

“He just got to the city. He mentioned playing on the East River courts and paying someone to hold a spot for him,” Art lied smoothly.

“Sounds about right,” you said, sighing. “Anyway, I was talking to Nathalie over there…” you squinted, linking arms with Art as the two of you started the walk back to your dorm. “She mentioned a frat party happening tonight. Since Patrick’s trapped in New York, I figured why not go?”

“There’s going to be a keg stand, a ton of alcohol, and some shitty DJ or something,” you added, glancing at a group of students touring the campus before turning back to Art.

Art nodded, slightly wincing at the mention of the keg stand. “Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” he replied sarcastically, earning a nod of agreement from you.

“I was planning on skipping it, but Nathalie really wants me to go. I thought if you came with me, it might actually be fun. Better than wallowing in my room wishing Patrick was here,” you admitted, biting your lip.

"Well, we had fun at that party last Friday, you remember right?" Art asked, smirking.

"Remember is a strong word," you replied, shaking your head with a laugh. "I think I have bits and pieces from that night. I do remember waking up still drunk at noon with my t-shirt on backwards and you snoring next to me in bed. Also like 5 missed calls from Patrick."

Art flashed you a lopsided grin. "Well, your bed's comfy, but I thought I was going to roll off in the middle of the night."

"Well, I stayed in my corner, I was flush against the wall as you were all sprawled out making yourself at home on my bed," you teased, nudging him playfully.

As you approached your dorm building, you noticed Art’s phone buzz. He glanced at it quickly, fumbling to put it away as a smile grew on his face. “What’s with the grin, weirdo?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. Just a funny text,” Art replied too quickly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Who, me? Who said I’m lying, I’m the picture of innocence,” Art said defensively.

You shook your head. “Sure you are. Anyway, I think I’m gonna drop my stuff on the floor, crawl into bed, and maybe take a nap. Maybe we can think about that party, I can call you at 11 so we can pregame.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You smiled gratefully as the two of you ascended the stairs to your floor. Art talked animatedly about his plans for the weekend while you half-listened, preoccupied with thoughts of collapsing onto your bed and taking a deserved long nap.

"Yeah anyways, I'm thinking of catching up on some studying, this english class is kicking my ass," Art continued, unaware of your drifting attention. "Maybe I’ll go on a run later though. You could join me if you wanted, if you’re up."

"Maybe," you replied absentmindedly, reaching a hand into your tote bag sifting for your keys.

As you reached your door, frustrated with your bag, you dropped your tennis bag and lifted your whole tote up, practically sticking your face in it to find your keys. "I hate these fucking tote bags, I can’t find shit," you grumbled to Art, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you turned around with a scowl— until you saw Patrick standing there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Patrick! What the fuck? What are you doing here-” you exclaimed, letting your tote bag fall to the floor and throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Patrick laughed, hugging you back just as tightly. "Surprise" he exclaimed, holding you close, smiling at Art over your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "You asshole! Trapped in New York with my parents, my ass!" you shook your head, playfully hitting him on the chest.

Patrick held his chest dramatically and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "All part of the plan," he murmured. “Plus, I had a little help," he added, nodding towards Art, who was standing nearby with a smug expression.

You turned in Patrick's arms to face Art, scoffing in shock. "Art, you were in on this? You’re such a liar," you exclaimed.

Art shrugged. "Hey, I was just hosting him at my dorm while we were at practice. Technically, I didn’t lie—I just omitted a few details," he explained, grinning.

"How could you do this to me? Traitor!" you said dramatically, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against him and resting his head on your shoulder. "Come on. You know it was worth it," he said, his tone teasing.

You sighed playfully, shaking your head at the pair of them. "I guess I can forgive you both this time," you conceded.

Patrick’s hand gently brushed through your hair as he settled his head into the curve of your neck. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me,” he said softly.

As you lingered in Patrick's embrace, you paused. "Wait, where's all your stuff?" you asked, pulling back slightly and turning to look up at him.

Patrick grinned, nodding towards your door. "In your dorm," he replied casually.

“Wow, Breaking and entering," you quipped, crossing your arms squinting at Art.

Art interjected with a laugh, "Actually, perfectly legal entering. You're the one who gave me a spare key."

You shook your head, "That's for emergencies, Art," you retorted, shooting him a mock glare.

Patrick turned you around to face him, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed," he teased.

You sighed, "I'm shocked you guys were able to pull this off, honestly," you admitted, shaking your head with amusement. Patrick laughed softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

Reluctantly pulling away from Patrick's arms, you grabbed your tote bag from the floor, turning to face Art and Patrick. "As much as this hallway talk is very exciting, I seriously need to find my keys. I'm exhausted," you declared half-joking.

After a brief search through your bag, you finally located your keys nestled among your belongings. Patrick picked up your tennis bag with a playful grin, indicating his readiness to follow you inside.

"Alright, Art, thank you," Patrick called out over his shoulder as you unlocked the door.

Art waved casually. "Have fun, be safe you two. I'll see you later," he replied as he walked down the hallway.

As the two of you entered your dorm room, you barely had enough time to place your bags on the floor before Patrick closed the gap between you and him and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands pulled you against him as he pressed your back against the door, placing his hands on either side of you almost boxing you in. His kisses were sloppy, teeth colliding as his lips moved against yours, hands desperately roaming your body, as if he couldn't get close enough to you.

You responded eagerly, melting into his embrace, your own hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip, hands roaming over your back, then up to cradle your face, pushing strands of hair away as he deepened the kiss.

"Patrick," you managed to gasp between kisses, your chest rising and falling with each breath. "I... I need to put my stuff away," you painted, reluctantly pulling back

Patrick leaned back, a mischievous smirk on his face, moving over to lean against your desk. "Sure," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you took out some things from your bag. "So, how was practice?" he asked, his voice low, as he looked you up and down.

You scoffed, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as you organized. "Heinous. I keep getting paired with this girl on the team who can't return any of my serves," you replied exasperatedly, glancing over at him.

Patrick raised an eyebrow, "maybe you should just go easy on her."

You shook your head, clicking your tongue in frustration. "I've tried to go easy on her, but she can't even play me when I do that. She acts like it's my fault she can't play for shit," you paused to sigh.

Patrick grinned, tracing a hand up and down your arm. "We both know you're too good for stanford women's tennis," he murmured, moving from the desk to stand behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and giving them a quick squeeze.

You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his comment. "Careful," you say firmly.

Patrick put his hands up in mock surrender, his cocky grin never faltering. "Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad," he said. "You're right."

As an unspoken apology, Patrick moved closer, his hands gently moving up to your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck softly. His lips left a warm trail on your skin, "I missed you," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “So much.”

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access, closing your eyes briefly to savor the sensation. "I missed you too," you hummed, your voice softening as you turned to face him fully. Your hands came to rest on his chest. "You know, I wish you would’ve just told me you were coming," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.

Patrick's playful demeanor softened as he gazed into your eyes, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Sorry again," he murmured sincerely, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you still love me?" he asked, clearly teasing and testing you.

You couldn't help but smile, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I still love you, even with your elaborate lies," you replied, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "But I have to say I knew something was up. Art was being weirder than normal."

Patrick hummed, his hands gently caressing your sides as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Hey? Are you even listening to me?" you asked, blinking up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Patrick paused, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes. "Sorry, what did you say? I was a little distracted," he said, smiling.

You laughed softly, giving him a light shove. “I said Art was acting weirder than normal. I could tell he was hiding something.”

He shook his head and grinned, suddenly, he scooped you up over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised laugh from you as he carried you to the bed. Playfully flopping you down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.

"So, what's our plan for tonight?" he asked between kisses, his fingers tracing light patterns on your sides.

You sighed softly, your words catching in your throat as his kisses became more fervent. "Well, there's this party my friend invited me to," you managed to say, struggling to speak coherently. "But last time I went out with Art, it was a shit show," you paused, trying to focus as his lips trailed down your collarbone, "but you're here, so we can do… whatever you want," you finally managed to say, your voice breathless with desire.

"Can we?" Patrick teased, his tone dripping with innuendo, his kisses becoming more urgent and needy.

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. "You know, you're impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "But yes, we can."

Patrick grinned triumphantly, his hands roaming over your body as he leaned in to kiss you again, his hunger for you evident in every touch and movement. "Good," he murmured against your lips. "I think I just want you to be myself tonight."

"Freaky," you quipped, biting your tongue to hide a laugh.

With a self-assured grin, Patrick swiftly removed his T-shirt, revealing his lean and tan body. His gaze never left yours as he leaned back in, his lips finding yours with intensity. Your fingers traced lightly over his chest as you meshed together, and through kisses, you opened your eyes for a moment, gaze fixed on the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

"You've got more freckles," you observed with a playful smile, pulling back slightly, teasingly tracing each tiny mark with your fingertip.

Patrick grinned warmly, his eyes crinkling as he removed his lips from yours pulling you into a tight hug. "You're so cute," he murmured, squeezing you against him. His hands gently moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you closer, lips looking for another kiss with a soft sigh of contentment slipping out. His gaze, filled with adoration and longing, locked onto yours, silently expressing his deep affection.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe. You locked eyes with him, your own expression softening as you smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

Without breaking eye contact, Patrick's hands moved to the hem of your T-shirt, his touch almost insistent. He lifted the fabric, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze, with the T-shirt slipped over your head and thrown to the floor, forgotten. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of you, bare-chested in front of him, a cheeky grin began to spread across his face. 

You rolled your eyes, whacking his arm. "Are you 13?" you teased.

Patrick laughed, unfazed as his hands and mouth roamed your newly exposed skin, his lips moving back to your collarbone, placing soft kisses along its length. Your remaining clothes were shed in a flurry, falling to the floor as you both moved with urgency desperately reconnecting.

Finally, as your kisses slowed and the two of you were breathing somewhat heavily, you rolled onto him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

"I love you," Patrick murmured softly, placing a lovingly sweet kiss onto your forehead.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. "Is that just because we had incredible reunion sex?" you teased lightly, a playful challenge in your voice. "Or do you love me all the time?"

Patrick laughed, his fingers moving up and down on your back. "Only for the sex, it's usually worth the plane ticket," he teased back, with a smile. "Just kidding. I love you all the time," he replied earnestly, as a grin started forming on his face.

Leaning up from his chest, you pressed a sloppy kiss against his mouth, your hands tangling into his hair as you felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile against yours. "I knew it," you murmured against his lips, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Say it back," Patrick urged with a playful grin, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you playfully pulled away before he could capture your lips again.

Rolling your eyes theatrically, you feigned annoyance, though your smile betrayed your true feelings. "Fine," you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I love you too, freak."

[downtwngrl]

INTRICATE.

hi so it’s been a WHILE. uhhhh rewatched challengers for the thousandth time and it broke me out of my writers block! i don’t know how im going to continue w this, so feel free to drop any ideas and ill add it to the lore 😈 note: series prob isn’t gonna end with any smut scene bc im incapable of writing one without it sounding stupid asf! but who knows, you might be surprised

cw: 1.4k words,,, art and reader are dating but fighting, set in stanford era, tashi is NOT injured, patashi, hints of reader crushing on tashi but repressing it, fighting, tensiontensionTENSION! basically everyone is friends with one another but they all want each other BAD. lmk what else i should add :)

“it’s complicated.” that’s what you say every time someone asks you what your relationship with art donaldson is. and it’s true— you guys are fiery, but not explosive. complex, but not convoluted. it’s just… strange. intricate. hence, complicated.

you think he’d probably say the same thing, but there’s no real way to know, since you can’t exactly ask. the two of you aren’t on speaking terms right now, and for the same reason you two stopped talking last time, and the time before that.

art donaldson can’t split his time between his girlfriend and his fucking best friend’s girlfriend. and you can recite the argument quite well, maybe even word for word; it’s still fresh in your mind, engraved there.

“c’mon, you can’t just keep ditching me for her. it’s annoying, and it hasn’t just happened once or twice, you know.”

“i know.” art sighed, a hand tangled in his hair as if to ground himself. your name fell from his lips, voice cracking midway. “what do you want me to do? she needed help with her physics homework.”

“she can get one of her fucking groupies to help her! she’s a big girl, she doesn’t need to rely on you.” the way you said it, mocking and condescending, was mean, and you know it. you don’t hate tashi— you can’t even bring yourself to dislike her. but it hurts every single time you text art on your motorola and get hit back with some half-assed variation of ‘helping tashi. sry :( i’ll come later.’ he never actually shows up at ‘later’, which only rubs salt in the wound.

art’s jaw ticked. his eyebrows furrowed and eyes darkened in a way you’d only seen once before, when someone was talking shit about tashi in the cafeteria. you had watched as she calmly reassured art that is was fine, that he needed to relax, but he only shook his head and clenched his fists. in that moment, you wondered if he ever got that angry if he overheard someone talking about you. you now doubt it.

“don’t talk about her like that.” he said it calmly, but your skin still prickled. “she’s an accomplished lady. what about you? what have you done?”

if you sounded condescending before, it was nothing compared to how he sounded then. you scoffed away the sinking feeling in your stomach, blinked back the sting in your eyes. there was a lot you could have said to him then: ‘i might not be half as good at tennis as she is, but that’s less embarrassing than being second-best to her boyfriend.’ or ‘i didn’t compete for her number and lose.’ hell, even a good ‘fuck you’ would have sufficed.

instead, you just stood there, frozen, as he grabbed his stanford sweatshirt and left.

when you tell the story to patrick, he laughs, and doesn’t stop laughing until you jab him with your elbow, effectively knocking the oxygen out of him. his hands raise in mock surrender before speaking. “sorry, it’s just funny to see him get like this, i guess.”

you frown. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean that he likes you, but he likes tashi. i know it, tashi knows it, and from what i heard on the walk here—” he gestures vaguely towards the door to your dorm, “—the school knows it, too. i dunno, i guess it’s amusing ‘cause art has never been so disturbed about this kind of shit. usually he just picks the girl he likes best, but he can’t.”

“you mean he can’t because you’re dating her.”

patrick smirks his signature smirk. you have the urge to punch his teeth out; vagueness is beginning to be a pet peeve of yours. “no, i’ve told him that tashi is free reign.”

the way your stomach flutters at that is shameful. you push the feeling away. “like, you guys aren’t..?”

patrick shrugs. “i mean, currently she hates me because i said i’d go to her match yesterday and i missed it.” these guys really need to stop promising us stuff, you think. “but yeah, when she isn’t pissed off, we’re dating, and we talk about it. ‘bout you guys. she doesn’t really care if the two of you make moves on either one of us.”

you don’t say anything, but your ears feel warm, and your heart is about to explode out of your chest. it doesn’t help when patrick takes that as a sign to keep talking and says—

“i don’t care either.” it suddenly hits you, the closeness between you and him. close enough that you can smell his cologne, one typical of a rich frat boy you’d pass by in the halls. but it feels different, with him. patrick’s smirk has shifted into a grin, a big one. you realize he’s been gauging your reaction, and is thoroughly pleased.

“oh,” you breathe. he snickers, repeats it back playfully. you don’t understand how he’s so relaxed, able to make light-hearted jabs in this moment. art likes you and tashi. tashi doesn’t care if he likes her, or if you like her. patrick doesn’t either. but where do you stand in this?

your phone jingles, the sound muffled from the blood roaring in your ears. you don’t know if you should thank or curse out whoever decided to call you at this second, but you excuse yourself to answer. patrick nods begrudgingly, backs up enough for you to have room to finally start to inhale and exhale again. “hello?”

“hey.” it’s art on the phone. impulsively, you look around, as if he’s hiding somewhere in the dorm he marched out of a few days ago.

holy fuck. “hey!” you sound too cheery to your own ears, and hope that over the line it sounds more convincing. you hear a sigh on the other end, and can imagine art physically loosen. “what, uh— i thought you were mad. at me.”

patrick perks up. ‘art?’ he mouths, and you nod. he attempts to come closer, but you swat at him, moving a few steps away. he pulls a face, but doesn’t move closer. still, he’s definitely trying to hear what art is saying.

“i was.” art laughs nervously, the sound tinny over the phone. “but you’re right. i fucked up. tashi… she isn’t my girl. i need to pay more attention to you, and that’s gonna happen starting now.”

she isn’t my girl. “she could be,” you think aloud. you tense. art chokes. patrick stifles a laugh.

“what?” you pray that he didn’t hear it. you had mumbled it, whispered it, there’s a chance it didn’t pick up. art says your name one, two, three times before you respond.

“sorry, i just zoned out a little.”

“no, you said something. baby, what’d you say?”

“i said ‘you should be’. like, you should be paying more attention, dumb joke, i was trying to sound threatening,” you slap your free hand against your lips to stop your word vomit, then your forehead as you reprimand yourself for acting so stupid.

art hums. “oh, okay.” it should relieve some on the tension in your shoulders, but it doesn’t. he usually laughs when you fluster, but he didn’t. is he unconvinced, or are you overthinking? “hey, tomorrow can you come to my practice at noon? we can go to the cafeteria after, i’ve got wayyy too many meal credits.”

you look to patrick for help, but he shrugs, enjoying the moment. “sure.”

art says his goodbyes, goes ‘mwah!’ through the phone (which usually makes you laugh, but now you feel bad), and once you say bye, he hangs up.

“i’ll go to his practice, too.” it’s never a question with patrick (or with tashi); he just lets you know. “tashi’ll be there. she’s always on the court when she’s free.” you find it endearing that he knows her schedule.

“tashi.” you like the way her name rolls off your tongue, but you’d rather die than admit it.

before you can say anything else, patrick walks over, swings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. “don’t forget about what i said.” his breath smells like spearmint gum, the type art is always chewing. maybe he gave him a piece. “just think on it, yeah?”

you nod, and he pats your cheek before walking out the door, leaving you feeling dazed. after a few moments of just laying on your bed, soaking in the conversation you just had, your phone dings.

we’ll see u tmrw :-) -pat (&tash)

[shentheauthor]

That's ok! But I got a new request! Those headcanons for the Harbingers' S/O clobbering people got me thinking... Can I request headcanons about the Harbingers having a sweet and precious S/O who is also incredibly strong? They just regularly bench press Fatui Skirmishers, like the Electro ones with the hammers, will fist fight hilichurls and win, and carry loads that look like they could crush them with ease. Even more confusing if they have an average or slender build.

Heyo sorry this took so long! But I am here now to write <3

Harbingers with an s/o who’s small, but very strong

~~~~~~~

Pierro:

This man has lived for centuries

He thought he’d seen it all

But when you picked up a skirmisher with one hand and threw him across the room while helping the new recruits train

Pierro almost had a heart attack

He thought he imagined it at first, but the groaning skirmisher you’re helping to stand is more than enough evidence to the contrary

He’ll run over immediately and start questioning how in the hell you did that

Were you born with this strength???? Or did you do some kind of insane magic????

Watches you like a hawk now, but affectionately

Lowkey wants to be carried, but he refuses to ask

If you pick him up without permission tho, he will get SO flustered

Lift that old man, he’s touch starved and he needs it

Capitano:

The fatui soldiers see the two of you as a sort of “good cop” and “bad cop”

Soft, sweet angel, and an absolutely intimidating powerhouse

Imagine everyone’s surprise when you lift capitano effortlessly

Capitano is the most surprised out of everyone

He was just coming back home from being away for a while, and you greeted him at the city’s entrance

And there you go, spinning him around and crushing his ribs despite your average size

The man was too stunned to speak

His first thought is “have you been training??” But he’s smart enough to know that this is probably just

A You Thing™️

He’ll let you train with him now

And help the Fatui grunts train as well

You’ll beat everyone’s asses (politely) and capitano will just go “now this is why we don’t underestimate our opponents”

Now you two are both powerhouses, and everyone is afraid of you LMFAO

The two strongest people in Teyvat dating each other… what are the odds /hj

Dottore:

He’ll probably find out during an experiment gone wrong

A ruin machine goes out of control, and the segments are all working to take it down

AND ITS THE S/O WITH THE STEEL CHAIR (except the steel chair is your fucking fists)

Lifting literal Tons of metal effortlessly and tearing it apart without breaking a sweat

The segments: 👁️👁️

Godspeed, friend, bc they will NOT leave you alone now

When you date one Dottore, you date ALL of them

And all of them want to run tests on you

Or get carried by you

Or both at the same time

Seriously they wanna experiment on you SOOOOO bad

He is an absolute simp for you tho, so he will shut up if you promise to carry him around and help him with other experiments instead

Carry multiple segments at once, they will miraculously not fight with each other bc they’re in your arms <3

The Fatui soldiers thought you were the safe one, the sane one

But now they’re terrified of you too AJGKBKDKVKDK

Columbina:

Omfg dude she is SO happy

She’d probably find out after you pick her up

It’s not exactly hard to do, but she’ll notice that you didn’t even make an ounce of effort

So she’ll ask you to lift more things

Getting increasingly heavy

And she is absolutely delighted

Literally living her best life

You are now her personal vehicle

Carry her everywhere and she is happy

Loves watching you lift impossibly heavy objects easily

She thinks it’s so hot and amazing and impressive

She is so in love <3

Two people who look soft and sweet, but are secretly terrifyingly strong <3

Arlecchino:

She’d probably find out if someone tries to hurt you

Like on a mission or smth

Ruin golems come after you, as they tend to do, unfortunately

Arle wants to protect her soft, sweet s/o

But boom, there you go, LIFTING THAT THING

Bc you don’t want her to get hurt, of course!

She would have a solid 10 minutes of sheer confusion

“Who are you, and what have you done with my s/o”

It’s very clearly still you tho, as you’re checking her over for injuries

Once she’s processed and accepted what happened, she’s even more in love

You’re so strong, and that’s AWESOME

Asks you to help “deal with” insubordination

She doesn’t approve of how gentle you are with disobedient soldiers

But at least watching you lift them up and place them gently in their barracks as punishment is hella fun

I wanna know more about her HoYo…

Pulcinella:

He would not realize for a while

You like carrying him, but he isn’t exactly hard to carry for a normal person

No, he would realize when you’re both on a business trip

Loading luggage onto your carriage, there’s a ton of suitcases

“I’ve got this, love,” you say, reaching for all the very large, very heavy stacks of suitcases

“No, you don’t have to— what the fuck”

Very shocked, very flustered, bc wait, you can do this to ANYONE you want? Not just a little tiny gnome?

Oddly quiet and shy around you for the trip 🤨🤨🤨

This old man is so in love

Definitely watches you if you ever train in any way

Hell you probably have a few friends in the Fatui

He’ll watch you “hang out” with your friends (aka bench press them)

And he will just be :)

Quietly flustered mans

Scaramouche:

He can feel your strength when you hug him and pick him up

He isn’t exactly hard to pick up, being made of mostly light materials

But your lack of effort is suspicious

He has theories, and he will test them by taking you on missions and having you fight enemies

“Will you please lend me a hand”

You’re super sweet, so of course you’ll help

And oh there you go, literally punching through a ruin guard in one shot

Being an absolute ray of sunshine the whole way through

“Are you ok, kuni? :D”

He won’t comment on your strength, but man he’s proud to have such a strong partner

He knows the appeal of allowing your opponents to underestimate you, even tho that’s not what you’re doing

So he won’t tell anyone about it and delight in the shock that everyone else experiences when you reveal it yourself

And if he lets you carry him more often after? Well that’s none of your business…

Sandrone:

She wants one of her larger dolls moved

And before she can get her big robot butler guy to do it, you’re taking care of it

Boom, big robot butler guy has been replaced /hj

Like, Sandrone won’t even use machines to move her dolls anymore

She just has you do it, since you’re happy to help

She’s so excited for the extra help 😭😭 for once

Be honored she lets you touch them

BUT! Also…

She wants you to carry her sooo bad

She will never tell you directly, but she makes it so obvious you always know when she wants it

Sandrone visibly relaxes in your arms

She feels safe and warm and happy

Very glad she didn’t turn you into a puppet lmao

Signora:

She’s so shook omfg

You lifting her is kind of insane, bc she is TALL AS HELL

But you did lift her, and there she is, held in your arms and slowly beginning to blush

“…dear, please put me down”

“Nope <3 your feet look tired, you deserve a break <3”

“…fair enough”

She won’t let you carry her in public, but in private? She will wrap her whole body around you and let you hold her

She thinks it’s funny to watch you just LIFT gunners and skirmishers, bc they’re always so shocked

She will compliment your strength in private all the time

What I wouldn’t give to have her wrapped around me, dancing in her bedroom with nobody else around AUGUHHHHH

Pantalone:

You two get caught in the rain together while in Liyue on banking business

Neither of you have umbrellas, and Pantalone is wearing his nice shoes

You, being a sweetheart, don’t want his shoes to get dirty, so you pick him up and book it to the bank

This man is so confused, flustered, and delighted at the same time

“Darling, you never told me you could lift me like that”

When he finds out you can lift more? Oh my god dude he is so whipped

He wants you to hold him all the time

He just adores watching you carry things around

Especially because everyone stares and looks so freaked out Lmao

This man is literally just… heart eyes, motherfucker personified

Literally so so down bad for you, it’s not even funny

Carry his mora for him, he’ll propose on the spot /hj

Tartaglia:

OH MAN

He wouldn’t bring a non-combatant onto the battlefield

But he would see you training with the soldiers and immediately do a 180 on that

“PLEASE SPAR WITH ME!!!”

You will, bc you know how much he loves it

And you won’t beat his ass, bc he’s very skilled, but man the hits you land hit HARD

He will now show you off to everyone

“Guys this is my beautiful, kind, strong s/o, look at them :D”

Down bad mf

Loves being carried soooo much dude, he’s so touch starved and he wants affection so bad

Hell dude he’ll let you carry him in public

Unless it’s around his soldiers

He has to set a good example after all

But every other time, you will not be allowed to put him down

Utterly smitten mf

[mac-n-chees]

man i fucking hate enji todoroki

when i say that i hate endeavor i dont mean i think he’s icky and i dont like him. i mean i dont think he deserved the forgiveness he got im so sorry. for context let’s back things up. the entire todoroki family lore is SO FUCKED UP. the whole “convenience marriage” thing? WHACK. sa-ing rei until she gave him the child he wanted? WHACK. and we don’t talk about that enough! it was rape! he didn’t care about her at all, he just wanted the perfect weapon to beat all might! and then touya’s whole deal? the fact that he was literally self destructing bc he thought he wasn’t good enough? and endeavor never made him feel good enough? he had all the right to become a villain.

and then, shoto. literally alienated him from his siblings so none of them know a single thing about him and vice versa. weaponizing him since he was a TODDLER. and saying he was “tough on him” is a SEVERE understatement, that little boy was thoroughly abused.

and then the aftermath of the whole thing with rei. he traumatized her so bad it led her to BURN HER OWN SON’S FACE. and what did he do instead of reevaluate his behavior? LOCK HER UP IN A MENTAL INSTITUTION. and not because he cared for her health, but because he didn’t want her to hurt shoto again. messed. the fuck. up.

and if yall gonna come in here and say “oh but other characters have been forgiven after their redemption arcs like zuko and regina mills” DONT YOU EVER COME IN HERE WITH THAT SHIT. their entire redemption arc revolved around them making a wrong choice that further proved to them that being good was the right way. they felt severe unease, and like it wasn’t “them”, so to speak, at being inherently “evil” so they CHOSE to convert because being “evil” was not their true selves. they made MISTAKES but learned from those mistakes BY THEMSELVES without anyone else influencing their thoughts or telling them anything. they CHOSE good because the people they cared about were good, and they wanted to be with them. they made a bad choice, yes, but the whole point of the redemption arc was that they learned from it and improved their characters. endeavor did not make a bad choice, he abused actual, living people for many, many, MANY years. it wasn’t a “bad choice” it was a deliberate decision to fulfill his stupid fucking delusions of grandeur.

how are those antiheroes different from endeavor you ask? I WILL TELL YOU. sure, he got a redemption arc, and sure he got forgiven. but did yall notice he only did an effort to do better after he became the number 1 hero? after shoto was in UA and his children were grown? after rei was locked up so she couldn’t tell anyone about what happened? after all might was no longer the symbol of peace? he only made the effort to become a better person once his OWN PERSONAL GOALS were fulfilled. he always prioritized himself. he didn’t learn shit. he’s not sorry for shit. he regrets nothing. he just wants to be perceived as the perfect #1 hero like all might was.

be fucking for real, his redemption arc was NONEXISTENT, and his children should not forgive him no matter how hard he begs. he does not deserve forgiveness. he’s a fucking abuser, rapist, and all around ASSHOLE.

if he has no haters im dead. and if i see even one endeavor ass kisser in the comments, you’re getting blocked idgaf. the fact that you think he’s hot and just because of that he earned his forgiveness will not fly here hoes idc. that man deserves to rot in hell for all he’s done, if he wasn’t (and i cannot stress the “quote unquote” part enough) “attractive” yall would be on the other side. i can’t anymore, endeavor stans gtfo.

[grievedeeply]

Hiiii! Do you take bg3 reqs? Cause I saw some and the tag in your latest post but no mention on the blog info!

If not feel free to ignore!

Could you please do Halsin, Gale and Astarion angsty hcs of them arguing with their s/o (like maybe she feels belitttled or ignored and yk classical “say something they don’t mean etc arguement”)? (With or without the aftermath and eventual yk comfort. However you’d like! Sorry if this is precise!

Thanks in any case! Have a lovely day!

i just added bg3 into my blog info bc of this LOL my bad. but yes i do take requests and i'm very happy to do this one for you! decided to expand on your original idea and make it arguing as a whole but your request is still included in the headcanons! thanks for sending it in and enjoy!

gn!reader/tav | tws: angst....

arguing headcanons with halsin, gale and astarion

halsin

halsin is not the arguing type of man. he hates arguing and he never ever wants to do it

still, he knows arguing happens. relationships always include some type of fight even if he never wants to deal with it

arguments with him almost always happen because of a misunderstanding on someones part. it's never because he wants to try to hurt you or vice versa, but because someone heard something the wrong way and it spiraled

but of course you don't realize that immediately and start arguing over whatever it was that was said

halsin is the type of person to distance himself for a little while to collect his thoughts

he never wants to say something he doesn't mean in an argument, but it has happened before.. and it took at least a week for the two of you to make up because you were obviously hurt by it

but he doesn't want it to happen again, so he'll take a little time for himself and come back to you with a cooler head

he doesn't think of himself as someone who gets mad easily, and he really isn't, but he'd rather be safe than sorry

normal arguments don't last for very long as you find you can't really stay mad at each other.. but he is usually the one to apologize first even if you started it

he hates it when you're mad at him. it's literally the worst feeling in the world to him and it's like a huge pit in his stomach

he will feel so bad if you ever tell him you feel ignored in an argument

he apologizes a lot and has to reassure you that you're the only person in his life that he loves in this way

he promises to be better at showing it. he takes an entirely different angle on everything he does from then on

always wants to make you feel loved and appreciated <3

gale

similarly to halsin, i think gale is someone to avoid arguments at all costs

he'll agree with a lot of things you say just to avoid arguments over stupid things that don't matter. you like this color for new curtains but he doesn't? he won't say a word. doesn't want to fight over something so small

even if you won't argue about it... he hasn't exactly had the best relationship track record, so he prefers to keep quiet on things like that anyways

when you do fight with him, it's usually because he said something he didn't mean and he immediately regrets it

but unlike halsin, he probably wouldn't walk away and take a few hours for himself and will instead apologize profusely without anything else

he hates fighting. he hates it and he wants it over with

he hates how it makes him feel when he knows you're upset with him and he wants that feeling to go away as soon as possible, so expect him to say he's sorry a million times

he hardly ever yells but he will when he gets mad enough. he immediately regrets it though

again... apologizes over and over

his apologies are all very genuine but he won't blame you if you don't forgive him right away

but you will have to tell him to leave you alone for a while

making up is always nice though. he'll make you dinner for a week afterwards (as if he doesn't do it anyways)

if you ever bring up feeling ignored or belittled in an argument he will go completely silent and apologize after you're done talking

he explains it was never his intent, but he realizes that he could've done better for you, and his apologies are all he can offer until he can prove his worth to you

overall very sweet and understanding about the entire thing too

astarion

i can see astarion hating arguing.. but that doesn't stop him from doing it, either

you hardly ever fight over anything serious but unlike gale he will complain if you pick something out that he doesn't like. he wants something he likes too. if he has to look at it, he wants it to suit his tastes

he's probably a sulker and doesn't apologize first unless he actually really feels bad about something

he likes seeing you say you're sorry. it makes him feel good to know you care enough about him to apologize for fighting over something that never really meant that much to anyone else

he wants some control over things. that's really all he wants

sometimes he will say things he doesn't mean, but he won't apologize immediately

the fight will get worse before it gets better

he isn't really the type of person to yell, but he does sometimes and he hates doing it but sometimes it feels like no one hears him unless he does

if you start a fight because you feel ignored or not good enough or something like that, it's a whole different story

he won't even really argue. he'll sit there and listen to everything you have to say even if you scream at him

definitely will hug you and reassure you that he loves you. he says he's sorry for ever making you feel that way, too

he hates fighting. but he will argue if he feels it's necessary... or when he's overwhelmed

sometimes things come out that he doesn't mean

[martianbugsbunny]

Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

[dozing-marshmallow]

BIMBO! (CONTESTANT) READER HEADCANONS

Bimbo (Y/N) had a lot to say

You weren’t paying attention at the starting line; you were making sure your nails stayed on in the gloves.

So because of that, you died when “Frankie” came out the door.

Retry.

So like, so far, you were avoiding death beautifully and getting more used to what you needed to do in this place, just running and jumping around like a lapdog.

You were never alone though, which was kinda reassuring? You always knew a beaut like you could blow up and make money on tv, but no one’s talked about how stressful it is! You should’ve worn your other lucky lingerie!

You arrived at a door and crossed your arms, stepping around the dead guys.

“Okay, last time, some fashion rabbit looking freakazoid came out and like killed me, without giving me a chance to go out in dignity! Nuh uh!” you zipped down the suit down to your cleavage, whipping out your compact.

You were expecting your face, just oozing glamour, staring at you, not that dumb bunny mask.

“Oh right. Well if I can’t take this off, I’ll at least give it a makeover! It needs one.” you huffed, stroking some lipgloss onto the plastic cover’s mouth,”Aw, no fair! It’s barely showing! Okay then... Blush will definitely stay on!”

Shoving your lipgloss back in your cleavage in place for blush, you dabbed some pink on the cheeks of the mask,“Aw! Why didn’t I like try this sooner? She’s soooooo cute!”

Satisfied, you held your head up to a nearby camera, hands by both sides of your head,“It’s Frankie! Frankie’s a girl, and I’m a girl!” you turned back to the locked door, breaker in the middle yelling at you to press it, rusting with a painting of the mascot and the words “I LOVE YOU!”. You wanted to say “me too!”. 

Instead you commented,“I always thought the name Frankie was so hip. Just like, whenever you hear it, it could either be about a dude or a chick. Too bad it’s been given to a rabid rabbit. Hey, that rhymed!”

You pressed the breaker and what do you know, that rabid rabbit was set free.

“Oh come on!” you whined, sprinting,”God gave me tits, not stamina!”

After that workout and an eventual completed round of obstacle courses, your brain brought light to the drops of sweat tickling down your hidden face.

You pulled out a wipe from your bra and rubbed it all over, as best you could,“Sweat? That is so 2004.”

And stopped at the motion of uh, “Debuty Fuck”

Deputy Duck.

Poor thing fell down!

You threw the wipe away to the waste basket somewhere and creeped towards it. You pinched it up...

And it was pecking you! You threw it to the board, now on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it! My neck’s already gone through a lot!” you scowled, hands on your hips,“That was just rude, Mr Deputy Duck! For a police officer of the law, you’d think you’d have gone through more better training than this!”

You bent over to gear him into your hand.

“Quack quack.” he pacifically let out.

“Aw, aren’t you just so adorable?!” you squealed, petting the head of the tablet duck, causing your grudge to fly over your own air head,“Your eyes are like so cute, it’s almost like I have my own puppy! Ah, OMG! When I get outta here, I am so putting you in a designer bag! Not that I don’t like carrying you or anything, but a girl has two hands: one for lipgloss, the other for her phone, and those are never up for negotiation.” you explained, walking and crawling with him through the vents.

“You! You did this to me! It hurts!” the disturbing thing known as Henry Hotline blamed his pain on you, then stomped backwards into the darkness.

You shook your index finger, far into his absence,“Well, soz your head looks like a busted cash register from 300 BC!” you scoffed, wondering in, your voice a lot more sweet here,“Come back Mr Henry man, we can talk about this! I have just the perfect face mask for you! We could have the best spa session in history!”

You didn’t see him. Though it’s hard to tell, since the entire environment was painted in darkness, with the exception of a few glowing things stuck on the floor and wall.

You groaned,“No, a maze! I feel like I’m at school again! I got suspended on the first day for lateness, then I got suspended on the second for “inappropriate clothing” while Jamie...Jane...Jennifer? Well, her and that disgusting vomit green sweater were off the hook! Can you believe it?” you pressed a telephone you found,“My crop top had apparently violated the dress code, when that filthy thing that may as well have been stolen from Maccie’s was a-okay!” clicking another,”Well I’ll tell you what, my crop tops are justice to the idiots who spend their time in classrooms and behind a desk all day!” and another,“Maybe I should put some money towards law school, so I could like, totally rewrite the law and send people to jail! What do you think, Mr Deputy?”

“Quack quack.”

“Harsh? Well you’re right, I normally wouldn’t fashion shame people like that, but she was a huge bitch to put it simply! Telling me that science was upstairs, like I was a loser with no sense of direction!” you vented, then shuddered in confusion,“Uh... We haven’t gone there before, have we?”

Deputy Duck knew yes, but you couldn’t understand.

“Um, excuse me, Mr Henry Hotline, I’m- We’re having trouble!” you called out, and got an immediate response.

At first, you were excited. Had he finally decided to get the face mask? But the thudding footsteps reeked of unfriendliness. And Deputy Duck hiding again was enough to convince you to run and slide into the conspicuous safe room. Doing that left Henry clueless and he went thudding off in cold-blooded search for you.

“Oh no, not another one of these!” you whined, hands on your hips as you were kneeled down,“Listen Mr Henry man, I gave you all the time you needed, a simple yes or no was enough!”

Were you upset to see his head explode later? Kinda. You thought it harsh, but not as harsh as Deputy Duck’s alteration.

“Dontcha worry, don’t think about it as getting maimed, ducky, think about it as from being a Pomeranian to a chihuahua!” you reassured in your chirpy voice, drawing a heart on his tablet with lip gloss.

You followed the orange line and went still at the open room it snaked into, occupying...Frankie?

He came to stand right in front of you, just grinning.

“...Wait, who are you?” you asked, pointing.

An eternity later, he started speaking,“I’m the real Frankie!” and all that.

Real Frankie? So that thing chasing you was decoy Frankie? Rip-off Frankie? Oh it’s on, you weren’t scared of him anymore-

“Wait so, you’re like the announcer guy?” you asked, clocking the similarities in the voice,“Damn it! I’ve been mugged!”

And even more so when he implied that you wouldn’t leave at the end.

“Whaaaat? Are you like, offering a second season to me? Cuz if so, hell yeah!” you jumped up on the spot,“All this mandatory exercising has actually helped me lose weight and apparently it’s good for avoiding dragon pox! But that’s just a bonus. The real prize, getting more money? Ooo I’m so in!” you sat down in the red armchair, leg smugly over the other,“Do you have any idea how many shoes and designer bags I could buy with $5 mil plus? Oh, it’s Heaven!”

The announcer guy was clearly pleased with your positivity,“Excellent! That enthusiasm will do us all proud, my dear!”

“Duh! No one likes a buzzkill! People like sexy, gorgeous, life of the party kinda chics!” you boosted, stroking the cheek bits of your mask,”Once they’ve seen me, they’ll all want more! May I make some suggestions though?”

Real Frankie rapidly nodded,“Feedback is always welcome!”

“Hooray!” you replied, arms up to the air,“So like, I must say, those like dead bodies you had around the park, looked sooooo real! But it’d be so like cool if you like splashed some pink and some glitter!”

Frankie paused. Looked real? Did you not understand what was at stake for this show? Was that why you were so cheerful?,“I...I’m not sure if that would work for this kind of show, contestant.”

“Ohhhh, then at least spray some perfume since this meat smell is like a total put off! Could really distract your competitors! Perfume! That’s what I was missing! Gah, I can’t believe it!” you despairingly looked down into your cleavage’s collection again,“I remembered my mirror, makeup wipes, lipgloss, blush, mascara, face masks, but no perfume! And three of my nails are broken! This is the worst day ever!”

Frankie didn’t know what to do or say to that. So he did nothing.

Hereafter, the contestant mask will be muted.

[under-the-dirt]

Hiii :3 I have another song one-shot idea, but with whatever character you want

I hope you have a good day :3

ok ilysm tytytyty i love getting ur song requests but the very first thing that came to mind the second i began this song was “FANAFAFAFAFFAFAFANFAB FNAF REFRENCE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️” bc i actually just have a squirrel brain. i’ve been wtaching the lore videos n playthroughs sm i’m so obsessed rn but i also thought of price bc i need more price daddy in my life. he’s so sexy. so, tytyty and a i wish you a very very ily <3

pairing: price x fem!reader

tags: sleeptalking, price is daddy, pet names :3, reader is a sleeptalker, ermrmrmrm a lil smut near the end.. fingering, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (guys pls don’t), ermm UNDER 13 DNIII!!! SHOO CHILDREN!! I WILL BLOCK U!!!

You’ve always struggled to sleep alone. Your therapist had told you it was a trauma response, makes sense. You’d gotten by with large teddy bears and music, but once you became a part of the TaskForce 141 you hadn’t been able to get either.

So, you’d barely been able to sleep. No one really noticed, except for Price. He could see the bags beneath your eyes, he watched you chug energy drinks when you thought people weren’t looking, and after you got hurt due to being unable to move quick enough from pure exhaustion he knew he just had to step in.

You were sitting in your bed, doing unnecessary paperwork, when there was a soft knock on your door and a soothing voice from the other side.

“Can I come in, love?” Price’s gravelly voice asks, and you of course let him in. He sits down on your desk chair while you resume your position on your bed. “I’ve noticed something ‘bout you, love.”

“What is it, sir?” You respond dutifully.

“Those bags under yer eyes.. An’ when you ‘s constantly drinkin’ them energy drinks.. They’re bad for you, you know that right?” He explains softly, looking at you with those gentle blue eyes.

“Yeah..”

“Can ye not sleep ‘r somethin’?” He asks, getting to the point.

“Not well, sir.” You reply, albeit ashamed, and he nods.

“Why not?”

“Since I was little I’ve been unable to sleep without someone or something next to me.” You explain, head down.

“Ah.”

“it wasn’t a problem until I got here, and I don’t have a bear. I doubt they’d even allow one.” You chuckle softly, and he hums.

“Could I help?” He questions gently, and from the look on his face it’s completely serious.

“Y-yeah I mean- If you want to..”

He nods, walking to the door and flicking the light off before climbing into your bed beside you.

“Alright, come on sweetheart.” He smiles, watching you lay down and fall asleep, both maintaining enough distance to remain comfortable. That was some of the best sleep you’d gotten since you arrived, and you hoped he’d continue.

He did, the next day, and the next, and every day after that unless he was on a long mission. At some point you’d moved to his room due to his bigger bed and for general convenience. You became more and more comfortable with him as the nights went on, and soon you were cuddled to his chest as you slept, mumbling whatever nonsense was in your mind. He never minded your cute habit, never thinking much of it, until one night you begin saying his name.. Innocently enough for a bit, until a few days later when you began saying his name in full sentences instead of quick mumblings.

“John.. mm.. want you so bad.. need you..” You whisper, and he chuckles. “Mm… love you..”

“What’s that, bunny?” He asks, running his hands along your waist as you continue mumbling.

“Love you, John..”

“Is that so?” He asks with a gentle chuckle, the rumble of which stirs you.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” You ask tiredly, rubbing your eyes and looking up at him.

“What’re ye mumblin’ about?”

“I wasn’t saying anything..”

“Oh really? You were just sayin’ that ye love me.. What’re ye dreamin’ about, bunny?” He purrs, voice getting slightly deeper and causing you to blush.

“Uhm.. nothing..”

“Thas’ all?” He coos, running his hands lower to your hips and teasing the waistband of your shorts.

You blush further. “I- well.. you were in it..”

“Oh was I?”

You nod.

“And what were we doing?”

“uhm..” You hide your face, not wanting to describe the things you did in your dream, when suddenly John’s hand slips beneath your shorts and taps your clit gently.

“Something like this..?” He purrs, rubbing your clit gently through your panties, and you let out a soft moan. He chuckles, sliding your panties to the side to feel the wetness between your folds. “Hmm.. so wet already..” He tsks, running his finger up and down through your folds and removing it, bringing it up to his mouth and licking your juices off. You stare at him, wide eyed, and he chuckles.

He reaches down again, looking at you for permission before slipping your shorts off and panties with it. He inserts two fingers into your cunt without hesitation, and you whimper at the sudden intrusion. He rubs your clit with his thumb as he begins gently pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside of you that has you moaning and arching your back. He quickly shuts you up by kissing you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth with feverish lust. Using his free hand, he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers, letting his hard cock spring free. You gasp at the feeling of it against your stomach, its pure size a shock, and reach down to stroke it gently. He groans into the kiss, and the sound makes you cum almost instantly without warning. He laughs and pulls his fingers put, running his cock through your folds and rubbing your overstimulated clit.

“God.. so perfect for me, aren’t ye?” He chuckles, slowly pressing the thick tip of his cock into your tight hole, groaning at the feeling of you fluttering around him. “Relax for me, lass.. God.. so tight” He grunts, pushing into you, listening to your moans and whimpers. After finally bottoming out, he stays still to let you adjust, before gently pulling back to thrust into you and slam into your g-spot.

“John.. ohmygod oh.. oh..” You moan and babble, his cock completely turning your brain off as he hits your g-spot over and over. “God- g-gonna- John..”

“You gonna cum? Go on, be a good girl and cum on my cock.” He commands, and you cum instantly, eyes rolling back into your head with a loud moan. He follows soon after, filling your tight pussy with his thick cum. “So good for me.. So good for me..” He praises, pulling put slowly and kissing you gently. He kisses your neck as you fall asleep, and to say that night was the best sleep you’ve ever gotten was an understatement.

that was pretty fun to write, sorry it took so long! i love getting song requests <33333 hope this is good!!!

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter nine

chapter nine: bruises and secrets

chapter summary: Yunho helps a beaten-up Mingi late at night, uncovering more than just bruises. A hidden tattoo, a dark past, and a simple confession leave Yunho questioning everything

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.4k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

Yunho froze, gripping his glass of water so tightly he feared it might shatter. His heart pounded, loud and heavy, as he stared at Mingi in stunned silence. This wasn’t the same smug, sharp-tongued roommate who always seemed to have a sarcastic remark ready for him. This Mingi looked… vulnerable. Hurt.

“Mingi…” Yunho finally managed, his voice cracking as he set the glass down on the counter. “Are… are you okay?”

Mingi’s gaze flickered to Yunho briefly, his usually confident eyes now clouded with exhaustion and pain. His lips twitched, like he was about to respond, but instead, he just shook his head sharply, almost like he was brushing Yunho off without words.

“Do you—do you need help?” Yunho tried again, taking a cautious step toward him.

That earned him a glare. It wasn’t as sharp as Mingi’s usual ones, but it still made Yunho halt in his tracks.

“No,” Mingi muttered, his voice rough and hoarse. “I don’t. Don’t talk to me.”

The words stung more than they should have, but Yunho swallowed his pride. “Mingi, you’re bleeding—”

“I said,” Mingi snapped, cutting him off as he straightened his posture with a wince, “don’t talk to me.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Yunho didn’t miss the way his hand clutched his side as if the movement caused him pain.

Yunho stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes stayed glued to Mingi’s every move. He watched as the other boy stomped toward his room, each step uneven and heavy, his shoulders tense. Yunho winced when he heard Mingi hiss in pain as he reached for his door, but before Yunho could say anything else, Mingi yanked it open and disappeared inside, slamming it shut behind him.

For a moment, Yunho stood there, frozen in place. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once. What had happened to Mingi? Why wouldn’t he let Yunho help? And why, despite everything—despite how rude and dismissive Mingi was being—did Yunho feel this overwhelming urge to do something?

He turned toward his own room, his footsteps slow and hesitant. Maybe it was best to just leave Mingi alone. He clearly didn’t want Yunho’s help, and it wasn’t like they were close friends or anything. Mingi had never gone out of his way to be kind to him—in fact, he usually went out of his way to be the opposite.

But as Yunho reached his door, his hand hovering over the knob, he hesitated.

He couldn’t just… not do anything.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Yunho turned and walked to the cabinet in their shared kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit he’d tucked away when they’d first moved in. His hands shook slightly as he opened it, checking to make sure everything was still there—antiseptic wipes, bandages, ointments. Good. It was all intact.

With the kit in hand, he made his way to Mingi’s door. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heart thudding louder and louder in his chest. What if Mingi yelled at him again? What if he refused to even open the door?

Yunho stopped in front of the door, staring at it for a long moment before he finally knocked.

“Mingi?” His voice was quieter than he intended, but he forced himself to keep going. “I know you said not to talk to you, and I know you probably hate me and don’t want to see me right now, but…” He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been through multiple first aid seminars, and I just—I can’t let you sit around with open wounds like that.”

Silence.

Yunho’s fingers tightened around the handle of the first aid kit as he stared at the door, his nerves gnawing at him. Maybe Mingi wouldn’t respond. Maybe he’d just keep the door shut and ignore him.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard Mingi’s voice—quiet, muffled, and low.

“It’s open.”

Yunho blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly, but when the words registered, he reached for the doorknob.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Yunho stepped into the room hesitantly, clutching the first aid kit like it was some sort of shield. The dim light filtering in from the hallway wasn’t much help, but as his eyes adjusted, he took in the space before him.

Mingi’s room wasn’t at all what Yunho had imagined. Somehow, he’d expected chaos—maybe piles of dirty laundry, empty snack wrappers strewn across the floor, and a general air of neglect. But the reality was… surprisingly tidy. Sure, there were some clothes tossed carelessly over a chair in the corner, and an open notebook lay abandoned on the desk, but overall, it was clean. Organized, even.

He hadn’t realized he’d been standing there, staring, until a low, sarcastic voice broke through his thoughts.

“Did you actually come to help me,” Mingi drawled, “or are you just here to inspect my room?”

Yunho snapped out of it, his eyes darting to Mingi. The taller boy was sprawled in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm slung over the backrest as he leaned into it. His free hand raked through his messy hair, and the movement only seemed to emphasize the cuts and bruises scattered across his face.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Yunho stammered, his face heating up. “I was just—uh—looking around because it’s kind of dark in here.” He cleared his throat, gripping the first aid kit tighter. “Do you think we could go into the living room? I could, um, see your wounds better there.”

Mingi hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Yunho. For a moment, Yunho thought he was about to get snapped at again, but instead, Mingi let out a quiet huff, pushing himself out of the chair.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up with a wince. “But I hope this won’t take an hour, Mister ‘I Went to First Aid Seminars.’”

Yunho bit back a small smile, following him out of the room and into the living room. Mingi dropped himself onto the sofa with a groan, leaning back against the cushions as though the short walk had drained what little energy he had left. Yunho quickly set the first aid kit on the coffee table, opening it and sorting through the supplies with practiced ease.

“Okay,” Yunho said, his voice steady as he glanced at Mingi. “First, I’ll clean the blood and everything around it so it doesn’t get infected.”

He took a closer look at Mingi’s face, and his stomach flipped. Most of the injuries were concentrated there—a split lip, the cut above his brow, going through his eyebrow as well, and the dark bruise under his eye that seemed to grow angrier by the second. That meant Yunho was going to have to get close to him.

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his hands felt suddenly clammy.

“You’re really gonna do this standing?” Mingi asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Yunho hover awkwardly in front of him.

Yunho flushed, quickly lowering himself onto the sofa next to him. “Right, uh, no. I’ll start with your knuckles.”

Mingi didn’t say anything, simply holding out his hand. Yunho took it carefully, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and starting to clean the dried blood from his knuckles. He couldn’t help but notice how large Mingi’s hands were—broad and strong, with fingers that tapered to neatly trimmed nails painted a deep black.

Yunho’s thumb brushed against the edge of one nail as he worked, and he had to force himself not to linger.

He moved to Mingi’s other hand, his touch careful but firm as he wiped away the blood and dirt. As he worked, his mind wandered. What had happened to Mingi? Was it a fight? And if so, how bad had it been? Who was he fighting?

The questions swirled in Yunho’s mind, his fingers slowing slightly as he got lost in his thoughts.

A sharp hiss snapped him back to reality.

Yunho’s head shot up, his eyes wide with alarm. “I’m so sorry! Did that hurt a lot?”

Mingi shook his head quickly, his gaze shifting to the side. “Not at all,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before. “That wasn’t because of the cleaning.”

Yunho blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion before realization dawned on him. He glanced down at Mingi’s hand, still cradled in his, and then back up at Mingi’s face.

Mingi was looking away, his expression unreadable, but Yunho could see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

A soft smile tugged at Yunho’s lips.

“Right,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t press the matter, turning his focus back to Mingi’s hand.

Yunho placed the antiseptic wipe aside, glancing up at Mingi’s face briefly before his gaze dropped again to the first aid kit. His hands busied themselves with the supplies, but his mind was racing.

“Before I move to your face,” Yunho began hesitantly, “I, um… I noticed you holding your side earlier. Could I maybe check that out too? Just to make sure it’s not something more serious.”

Mingi tilted his head, an eyebrow quirking up. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and Yunho immediately regretted asking.

“Wow, Yunho,” Mingi drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I didn’t think you were the type to try and undress me so quick. Cheeky boy.”

Yunho’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. He immediately started waving his hands, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to clarify. “No! No, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all! Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

“Relax,” Mingi interrupted, laughing softly. “I was just joking.”

Yunho froze mid-apology, blinking as Mingi leaned back on the couch and lifted his shirt slightly.

Time seemed to slow as the fabric rose, revealing a stretch of smooth, golden skin. Yunho’s eyes immediately locked onto the deep red mark blooming across Mingi’s side, the edges already darkening into what was sure to become an angry bruise. But that wasn’t the only thing drawing his attention.

Next to the discoloration, the faint outline of Mingi’s abs was visible, subtly defined and almost glowing under the soft light of the room. Yunho had known Mingi was fit—his broad shoulders and strong arms made that obvious—but seeing the faint ridges of muscle like this felt entirely different. It was more personal, more real.

But his thoughts didn’t linger on the abs for long. What really caught Yunho’s attention was the ink curling across Mingi’s ribs, just barely peeking out from beneath his shirt.

Yunho blinked, caught off guard. He knew Mingi had tattoos—he’d seen the ones on his arms and hands before, bold and confident—but the idea that he had more, hidden beneath his clothes, never crossed his mind. A strange mixture of surprise and curiosity bubbled up inside him.

How many more tattoos did he have? What were they? Why here, so close to his ribs, where no one could see them unless he wanted them to? Yunho’s imagination spiraled with the possibilities. Each new thought painted Mingi in a different light, one Yunho hadn’t considered before. What else was Mingi hiding beneath the surface?

Yunho’s hand hovered in mid-air as he struggled to refocus. He wasn’t supposed to be staring at Mingi’s tattoo—he was supposed to be checking the bruise. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly as he finally reached out, stopping just shy of touching Mingi’s skin.

“This is gonna bruise a lot,” Yunho murmured, his voice quieter than usual as he gently pressed his fingers against the skin. Mingi gritted his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping him at the contact.

“That must have been a big punch,” Yunho added, his thumb brushing lightly against the edge of the bruise. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fight Mingi had been in—what had happened to leave him in such a state.

Mingi cleared his throat suddenly, his voice cutting through Yunho’s thoughts. “Kick.”

Yunho’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“It was a kick,” Mingi said quietly, his gaze shifting away.

Yunho stared at him, his mind racing. A kick? That must’ve been brutal. What kind of situation had Mingi gotten himself into? What could possibly have led to this?

The questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but Yunho held them back, sensing that now wasn’t the time to push. Instead, he nodded, his voice soft as he said, “You can ice that side later. It should help with the swelling.”

Mingi didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he let his shirt fall back into place. Yunho turned his attention back to the first aid kit, pulling out a tube of ointment.

“I’ll put this on your knuckles next,” Yunho said, squeezing a small amount onto his fingers. “It should help.”

He carefully worked the ointment into Mingi’s hands, his touch gentle as he focused on the task at hand. But even as he worked, his mind lingered on Mingi’s words—on the bruise, the kick, and the strange mix of defiance and vulnerability in Mingi’s voice.

When he finished, he glanced up, meeting Mingi’s eyes. “Okay,” Yunho said, his voice steady but quiet. “Now I’ll move to your face.”

Mingi nodded slightly, leaning back against the couch as Yunho reached for another antiseptic wipe.

Yunho hesitated, the antiseptic wipe trembling slightly in his hand. He glanced at Mingi, who was leaning back on the couch, his face partially illuminated by the dim living room light. The bruises and cuts stood out starkly against his skin, and Yunho swallowed the nervous lump forming in his throat.

“Alright, um… I’m going to start cleaning your face now,” Yunho murmured, scooting closer to Mingi on the sofa. The space between them disappeared until their knees were almost touching. Yunho could feel the heat radiating off Mingi, which only made his hands feel clammy and awkward.

He leaned in, gently patting at the dust and dirt clinging to Mingi’s jawline. Each touch was cautious, almost reverent, as if Yunho were afraid he might break something if he pressed too hard.

As he worked, the silence between them grew heavier, pressing down on Yunho until he couldn’t take it anymore. Summoning all his courage, he cleared his throat softly and asked, “U-um, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… what happened to you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly, but after a moment, his expression softened. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at Yunho.

“I got into a fight,” Mingi said simply, his voice low and even.

Yunho paused, his hand hovering mid-air as he processed the answer. “A fight?” he echoed. “One-on-one?”

Mingi let out a short, humorless laugh. “More like it was supposed to be three-on-five but ended up being five-on-one.”

“You being in the group of five, I presume?” Yunho asked cautiously, trying to keep the tone light.

Mingi’s lips pressed into a straight line, his shoulders stiffening. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “I wish.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Mingi’s words sinking in like stones. Yunho’s hands moved automatically, continuing to clean the cuts along Mingi’s cheekbone as his mind raced. Who were these people? What could have possibly driven Mingi into a fight like that?

Before Yunho could gather his thoughts enough to speak, Mingi broke the silence himself.

“It was a group of dudes I used to talk to,” he said, his voice quieter now but steady. “They were selling some heavy shit to little kids. I just couldn’t let them do that - sell drugs to teens. Well, not even drugs, because the crap they mix is straight-up poison. They were selling to these little, naive teenagers who think it’s cool to take that stuff.”

Yunho froze mid-motion, his eyes darting up to Mingi’s face. “Wait, what? Selling to kids?”

Mingi nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah. I was with two of my friends when I confronted them, but they ran away the second the first punch was thrown.”

Yunho couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His mind spun with the implications, trying to piece together how someone like Mingi had ended up in such a situation. “But… how do you even know what they were doing? Or selling?”

Mingi chuckled dryly, finally turning his head to look at Yunho. His sharp, piercing eyes locked onto Yunho’s, and for a moment, Yunho forgot how to breathe.

“Why do you think I used to talk to them?” Mingi asked, his tone almost casual, but the weight of his words hit Yunho like a truck.

It took a second for Yunho to fully grasp what Mingi was implying, but when it did, it knocked the wind out of him. He’d heard rumors before—whispers about Mingi and the kind of things he does—but hearing it confirmed was something else entirely.

Mingi sighed, leaning back slightly against the couch. “Yeah. I was an idiot back then,” he said, almost as if reading Yunho’s mind

Yunho searched Mingi’s face, looking for any hint of dishonesty but found none. Mingi’s expression was open, honest, and tinged with something that might have been regret.

“So… you don’t do drugs anymore?” Yunho asked cautiously, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

Mingi tilted his head, considering the question before shrugging. “Not anymore. No. I mean, yeah, I like to drink, sometimes if anybody offers me a cig or i need one because of stress, I’ll take it , and I’ll smoke a blunt here and there, but that’s it. Nothing else. I’m not one of those naive teens anymore.”

Yunho nodded slowly, processing everything. Despite everything he’d heard tonight, despite all the shocking revelations, he couldn’t help but feel… relieved. Mingi wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he was trying to be better. That had to count for something, right?

“Okay,” Yunho said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for telling me.”

Mingi gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod before leaning back against the couch again. Yunho returned to cleaning the cuts on Mingi’s face, his movements careful and deliberate.

Yunho’s fingers trembled as he focused on the cut above Mingi’s brow. The closer he got, the harder it was to ignore the way his own pulse thrummed in his ears. He told himself it was just nerves—just the intensity of the moment—but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

Mingi was so close. Yunho could see the faint glisten of sweat on his brow, the curve of his lashes as they fanned against his bruised cheek, and the way the dim lighting of the room softened his usually sharp features. Even battered and bruised, Mingi was… breathtaking.

Stop it, Yunho. You’re just helping him. That’s all this is.

But the thought didn’t make the heat in his face go away. If anything, it only made him more aware of how close they were. He could feel the warmth radiating from Mingi, smell the faint mix of soap and the metallic tang of blood. Yunho’s heart stuttered, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself.

The air between them felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension Yunho couldn’t quite define. It was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that made every tiny movement feel amplified—the faint rustle of Mingi’s shirt as he shifted, the soft hitch in Yunho’s breath as he adjusted the bandage in his hand.

You’re overthinking it. Just focus.

He leaned in a fraction closer, his hand hovering over Mingi’s face as he peeled the backing off the small band-aid. He told himself it was just another step in the process, that it didn’t matter how close he had to get. And yet, his hand was shaking.

He almost had the band-aid in place when Mingi’s voice broke through the silence, low and steady but carrying an edge of something Yunho couldn’t quite place.

“Oh yeah, and Yunho…”

Yunho’s hand froze mid-air, his eyes darting to Mingi’s. The other boy wasn’t looking at him, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, as if he were speaking more to the room than to Yunho himself.

“To answer your concern from before…” Mingi’s tone was casual, almost too casual, as if he were choosing his words carefully.

Yunho blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Concern? His mind raced, trying to figure out what Mingi meant. Was it something he’d said earlier?

“I don’t hate you.”

What?

[jemmo]

the more i think about i hear the sunspot the more i realise i am absolutely fucking obsessed with taichi as a character, and after ep 4 i feel like we’re on the cusp of something great with him. bc taichi is such a face-value simple character. he’s loud and boisterous and carefree and has no problem taking space and expressing himself. throughout all these episodes, he conveys how he feels so clearly, it all starts with this clear expression of hunger, and when he’s given food by someone, he doesn’t think twice, he just eats. it’s easy. he doesn’t overthink it. and when he thinks something about kohei, he just says it, he defends him easily, he tells him he should ask people to repeat themselves to him bc it’s simple, it’s not something you should overthink, if you can’t hear, ask someone to say it again. he tells him he likes to see him smiling, and when kohei starts ignoring him, he says plainly, you’re ignoring me, i don’t like it, stop it. there is a one way train from taichi’s thoughts and what he says, and there’s no stops along the way.

but the thing is, he’s now encountering things that makes him think. first with miho, he has a direct conflict between being honest and telling kohei about their meeting and what she said when kohei asks, and protecting someone from something hurtful. plus the question lingers if there’s any other reason why he doesn’t want to say, bc admitting to meeting her means admitting he liked her enough to think she was asking him out? bc telling kohei someone likes him conflicts with the fact he likes him? taichi is not used to complicated, or more, he doesn’t linger on complicated. if his parents divorce and his behaviour conveys anything, it’s that when met with a complicated and hurtful situation, instead of confronting it, he acted out, and later let his sunny demeanour cover up any more complicated emotions.

and what’s more, it’s taichi’s kindness towards kohei, the way he cares and supports and encourages him that’s brought him to this point of having to face something complicated. this idea is shown when taichi talks about the hamburger patties and the story of his grandpa cooking one as this act of kindness when he was going through a hard time. it’s a rare time we see taichi without his brightness, but kohei doesn’t hear. and taichi tries dismisses it, but kohei doesn’t let him, bc taichi’s the one that told him he’s allowed to ask people to repeat themselves and shouldn’t feel bad about it, so he makes taichi repeat himself and taichi does. he’s made to think about those complicated feelings again, and what’s more, made to convey them openly to someone. and now we have kohei’s confession, an act that wouldn’t have happened without taichi’s care and encouragement during the time they’ve known each other, both bc that’s what makes kohei like him and what makes him brave enough to say it. and taichi is make to confront complicated feelings once again. which is why i can’t wait to see how he reacts in this next episode. he’s now faced by something both complicated and something he cannot avoid or brush over, so how will he deal with someone else’s feelings and complicated situation, kohei’s hearing loss, and more so, how will he deal with having to look at and understand his own feelings? it’s safe to say i cannot wait for ep 5.

[bymaemeadows]

bad idea

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Miguel and you have been seeing each other on and off. You both have had a bad day and found your way to each other. It’s a mistake but your body calls to his. He is addicted to you but refuses to admit that he wants you back. I have been listening to GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo on repeat so I took some inspo from that.

Warnings: language, smut, biting and blood (bc vampire), choking, he’s kinda mean but it’s kinda hot

A/N: This is my first time posting fanfic in a really long time and my first time posting here so sorry if anything is off. I wrote is all in one sitting so sorry about any errors. Kind Feedback is welcome.

Walking up to Miguel’s door feels bittersweet. You’ve been here countless times. Sometimes, with his arm around you after a romantic evening and other times running away after a disastrous fight with tears falling on the very steps you climb now.

Still, you can’t stay away. You had the whole trip over here to reconsider but through the hurt you've caused each other, the pain you’re in now calls to his pain. You don’t give yourself a chance to slip into shame or feel foolish about reaching out to him because there’s already enough shit going on in your life. You knock on the door because ringing the bell would be so loud and the cheery sound doesn’t match the moment.

A few moments and he’s there. He’s in dark blue sweatpants and a fitted white shirt. Your eyes linger on his muscled chest before scanning the harsh lines of his face and the unreadable look in his eyes. Without a word, he steps aside to let you into his home, eyes on you the whole time. The transaction already feels familiar because this isn’t the first time they’ve collided like this after swearing it would never happen again. Well, you promised yourself. He’s never pushed you away with his words but in the way he lets his anger tarnish anything good between you two.

But you’re not here to get him back. You both know this meeting is supposed to be purely physical – the biggest lie. You still love him.

He follows you like a shadow. He’s close enough to touch you but heads to the bar against the wall to get you both drinks. You’re too antsy to sit so you make your way to the large windows that overlook the city. You feel his approach and he reaches around your body with a wine glass but instead of handing it to you, he reaches up to brush a finger down your face and neck. You melt at the affectionate touch, starved since the last time you saw him. You turn your face towards him and he looks you up and down appreciatively, taking a sip from his glass tumbler of his favorite whisky. You know that as soon as your lips meet, you’ll taste the drink on his tongue.

“Here,” Miguel says. Placing the wine glass in your hands but his eyes are locked on yours and stays there as you take a sip. It’s your favorite too. The one you would always stock his stash with.

“Thank you,” you say but it comes out quieter than you intended. Like a whisper. He’s so close but tears his eyes away to look over your head and out the window and take another gulp of his drink, slipping his other hand into his pocket. His stature is so at ease while you’re sure you’re trembling. You take another sip of your wine and turn back to the view. 

“You know, you’re always welcome here” Miguel says but his tone is cold and at odds with his words. “You don’t have to knock.”

Your face starts to heat because it sounds like a reprimand. But you feel the press of his body at your back and he’s moving your hair from your neck. His breath fans across your ear and now your skin is on fire.

“You’re the only woman that can have me anytime. I crave you always. You know that, right?” his lips brush over your heated neck as he speaks and you lean into his hard body, eyes fluttering closed and hands clutching your drink.

His hand trails down your arm and rests on your hip, holding you to him as he kisses your neck in the way he knows makes your toes curl. You can feel his hard cock against the softness of your ass. You turn your head to capture his lips but he pulls away, leaving fizzling electricity where his warmth was. Whirling to face him he brings his drink to his lips, eyes on you. You arch a brow and bring your glass to your mouth too. Eyes on each other you both drain your drinks. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips and he tracks the movement.

He leans in to capture your mouth and you back up until you’re pressed against the cold window. His mouth is demanding and you open to him, his tongue tasting exactly like you knew it would. Before you can deepen the kiss and get your hands on him, suddenly, he grabs the glass from your hand pulling away to take both glasses back to the bar. Leaving you frustrated and breathing heavily against the glass. 

Teasingly, he turns and stalks towards you slowly. Miguel’s eyes are fire and ice at the same time. Before he reaches you, he’s pulling off his shirt. Your eyes dance over his skin, the dip of his sweats, to his length straining against the fabric. You press yourself against the glass as he invades your space and cups your face with both hands, slamming his lips against yours. You part for him so he can dominate your mouth. Your hands scramble to grab the top of his sweats and pull him against you. His hands leave your face to brace his palms on either side of your head. You tip your face up to receive the full force of his kiss and reach to hold his ass in your hands, pushing his hardness between your legs. 

You break away from his lips to trail kisses across his chest as you reach into his pants and wrap your fingers around him. You feel his hot breaths against the top of your head as he towers over you, letting you stroke him. You reach lower to gently tease his balls then back up to find a bead of cum leaking from the tip. Pulling your hands out of his pants, bringing it to your lips. He pushes away from you to watch you suck it into your mouth. His breaths are ragged and his dark hair is hanging in his eyes. 

With a smirk on his lips and a slight shake of his head you’re in his arms again. Your ass is in his massive hands as he carries you to the bedroom. His mouth is all over you, your lips, your neck, the tops of your breasts. Instead of dropping you on the bed, he sets you down on your feet to slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders, taking your bra straps with it. As soon as your breasts are free, he’s lifted you into his arms again to suck on your skin and nipples. You press him closer with your hands in his soft waves. 

“Please, Miguel,” you beg. “Bite me, please.”

You feel his chuckle even with his nipple between his teeth – the dull ones, not the sharp ones you crave. You still don't feel the pierce of his fangs. Frustrated and needy, you start to grind yourself against him. 

“Oh I am going to taste you. Don’t worry about that,” he says as he trails kisses back up to your neck where you suck in a breath in anticipation of his bite.

Instead, you’re falling. He’s laid back on his huge bed with you now straddling him. 

“Want me to earn it?” you tease and rotate your hips over his cock, still restrained in his pants and boxers. His groan fuels you but his hands grip your hips, stilling you. Your eyes cut to his but he’s got a playful grin on. 

“Yes, earn it.” He says coolly. “Come here. Sit.”

Eyes widening, your spine stiffens but you steel yourself. Peeling yourself off him and the bed, you walk around, slipping off your dress but when you reach for your panties, his voice stops you.

“Not yet. You wore that for me, didn’t you?” He teases putting his hands behind his head. You blush because of course you picked a matching set of underwear for this self-inflicted booty call. Your bra is still hanging on for dear life so you leave it and the panties on as you climb back on the bed, this time to straddle his face. His arms come up to grip your thighs and pull you closer. You gasp and tilt forward, catching yourself with arms on either side of his hips. He’s kissing the insides of your thighs and around your center. ‘Earn it’ he had said so you pull down the waistbands of his pants and boxers to pull his cock free. He bends his legs, feet flat on the mattress, hips lifting to bring his length closer to you. 

Using one hand to stroke him, you also push back to press yourself to his mouth. He’s now sucking and nibbling through the fabric and you can feel how soaked you are. He grips you tighter but you lean forward to take him in your mouth. Teasing his tip with your tongue and then licking him, dragging your tongue flat up his considerable length. His groans of pleasure feel like they’re vibrating the air in the room as you chase his pleasure. The muscles in his legs are taunt and his grip on your legs tighten but he starts to pull you back to his face.

“Damn it. I told you to sit,” he grumbles. He could easily overpower you and pull you to him but you know he’s really enjoying exactly what you’re doing as you suck him while your hand grips him at the base and stroke him nice and slow. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and starts pulling your soaked panties to the side before slowly pushing a finger into you. You gasp with your mouth still around him and he takes that as an invitation to start finger fucking you hard. The force of his work means your mouth is now bobbing up and down on his tip and your moans vibrate through both of you. He adds another finger, racing after your climax. His cock is still in your mouth but you’re truly at the mercy of his fingers. You feel your release rising and rising so you remove your grip from his base and start to reach for your clit to push you over the edge.

“I got you, baby,” he says before pulling you completely on top of his face. His cock popped out of your mouth and your body slid against his until his mouth was fully devouring you. Without his cock in your mouth, your whimpers and moans come out loud. 

“Oh my god,” you groan and his hands anchoring your legs to keep you still tighten at your encouragement. You free your hand from between you and reach forward to grip his dick so you can stroke him for every stroke of his tongue on your clit. 

His diligent tongue pulls you closer and closer to coming. When he starts sucking you, it’s all over. You gasp and moan through your orgasm and your body jolts from the intensity but he holds you still, not easing up to draw out every pulse of your pussy. When the last wave of ecstasy fizzles out, he loosens his grip. You start to rise, lifting yourself off his face but he stills you just a few inches away to pepper kisses to your inner thigh.

“Oh, baby, you’re not going anywhere yet.” he tells you between kisses.

“I need you inside me, Miguel,” you whine and he responds with a chuckle but then you feel the scrape of his fangs and you stiffen, suddenly alert.

“I thought you wanted something else…” he teases, accentuating his meaning with another scrape of his fangs on your thigh. 

“Yes, please. Please, Miguel,” you beg, reaching again for his cock again to grip and stroke him. 

He buries his face into your skin and groans. You feel it all over your body and stroke him faster to elicit the wonderful sound again and again. His cock starts to twitch against your grip as his pleasure builds.

With a growl, he tosses you off him. You bounce on the mattress, a bit stunned by the loss of him but you feel his hands on your ankles and he’s dragging you towards him and the edge of the bed. He bends his huge body over yours, his cock just at your entrance. He captures your mouth in a punishing kiss, hands digging under you to unclasp your bra and tossing it. With full access now, he's kneading your breasts before sliding to hold your waist. You’re able to gasp for breath as his mouth travels down your body. His mouth is hovering over your breast when his eyes flick to yours. You nod, knowing his question. A sly grin pulls at the corners of that devilish mouth before they part to show his fangs. A growl tears from his throat before he clamps down on your soft skin. 

You cry out in pleasure laced with pain and jerk in his hold. You feel the pull of his mouth as he drinks deep from you. The mouth that just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm is barreling you headfirst into another with the way he’s drinking you.

He releases your breast with a sign, his mouth now red from your blood. His eyes pop open and lock on you. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He leans down to lick where his fangs punctured and you whimper and arch off the bed. When you open your eyes again, you see he’s standing straight, holding his cock in his hand, stroking himself while he licks your blood off his lips. He’s so beautiful. His sweats are still slung low on his hips but he looks perfectly disheveled.

You wiggle your body to bring yourself right to the edge of the bed. Opening your legs, inviting him to finally enter you. He continues to stroke himself, eyes roaming over you approvingly. You know there must be little trails of blood leaking from his bite because as he steps closer to notch himself at your entrance, he leans over to lick the blood. 

You grab his face to bring it to yours but you feel him hesitate in your hold. You meet his unsure eyes and give him a reassuring smile before he succumbs and crashes his mouth to yours. You open for him and his tongue slowly enters and with it the metallic taste of your own blood. You hum at the taste which spurs him on because his kiss deepens as he starts pushing the tip of his cock into your wet and waiting core. 

The kiss breaks and your head digs into the bed as he pushes into you. His groan sounds so tortured and you realize it’s because his control is slipping. You turn to look at his hands that are bracing on either side of your head to see his claws piercing the bed. You try to find his eyes but his dark hair is hanging in his face, his body locked up as he pushes in another inch.

“Miguel,” you whisper and reach up to run your hands down his chest. The veins under his skin, now pumping with your blood too, strain under your fingers. Another inch and you’re writhing under him. Desperate, you hook your legs around him to pull him closer. His body is so still he’s not moving an inch. You call to him again and he lifts his head enough to peer at you though his waves, his brows low over his eyes. His jaw is locked but his eyes are bright as he searches your eyes. 

“Miguel,” you whimper as your heart beats wildly at the vulnerability he’s allowing you to see. “Fuck me, please.”

His brows soften and he releases a ragged breath and pushes fully into you. He straightens pushing his hair out of his face while looking down at where you’re now connected. But he’s not moving. You need him to move. You use your legs around him to start grinding against him. He allows you to lead and draw your own pleasure for only a moment before his hands with his talons now gone grip you under your thighs and push them towards your head. He leans over you and starts thrusting at a slow but delicious pace. His eyes watch your face as his cock moves in and out. You try to keep his eye contact, but when he picks up the pace your eyes slam shut but your mouth opens to beg and cry and moan at his punishing movements. Your fingers dig for an anchor in the sheets and your hand finds one of the holes he ripped earlier. A satisfied smile spreads across your face and you open your eyes to see a similar grin on his mouth. 

“You like what you do to me,” he states. “You drive me insane,” he admits with a dark chuckle and your heart tightens at the tenderness in his eyes. Your hands move into his hair and gently scrape your nails along his scalp. His answering groan has him slowing his movements to grind against you. 

You watch his face as he responds to your touch. Like a tragic god. His beautiful body and immense strength both focused on you, chasing both of your pleasure. His eyes peel open to lock on to yours and then something flashes in his gaze and his hands and body are moving to flip you on to your stomach. He roughly pulls your panties down your legs and then slaps your ass.

“Crawl,” he commands and you glance back at him, he's stepping out of his pants and boxers while taking ragged breaths. You crawl up the bed on hands and knees, anticipation curling low in your stomach. You feel the bed dip behind you before you feel his hand on the back of your neck gently guiding you so your ass is up in the air. The soft sheets tickle the Miguel’s bite mark as your breasts press into the bed. 

When you feel him rubbing his hardness up and down your folds you bury your face and moans in the sheets. Then he’s pressing into you at the most delicious angle that has you whimpering unintelligibly. He pumps into you once and then twice, low groans coming from clenched teeth, before unleashing himself on you. His hips slamming against your ass and skin slapping skin as he finds the rhythm that just might kill you.

“That’s it baby. You take me so damn good.”

His balls slap against your clit and you jolt at the contact. Breathe. You turn your face, your cheek digging into the mattress to gulp down air.

“Miguel! Fuck!” you cry amongst other sounds that you probably haven’t made since your last trist with him. The only man you’ve been with since you met and you know deep down you don’t want anyone else. Just him, forever.

You feel yourself fluttering around his cock as another orgasm threatens to sweep you away. 

“Ugh fuck, baby!” he groans grabbing your ass cheek in his large hand as he pounds into you over and over. 

You’re so close and you can feel his thrusts get more desperate as he gets close to his own release. You release your grip from the sheets to slip your hand under yourself and to your clit. 

“Fuck! Damn!” he chants over and over when he sees you pleasuring yourself. “You’re so sexy, baby, so beautiful.”

As your orgasm builds you feel your pussy tighten around him and he grips you harder adding the delicious bite of pain to your sweet pleasure. Your releases crashes into you and your shaking and moaning and crying out as your pussy milks Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you, wringing wave after wave out of you. 

“That’s right. So good. You’re fucking amazing,” he praises but it comes out strangled sounding. Then he’s pushing your hips into the bed so you’re now flat and he takes on a new but equally punishing pace as he fucks your hips into the mattress. 

Still sensitive from coming, this angle makes you delirious. You just dig your face and hands into the mattress and hold on as he chases his own orgasm. 

“You want me to come in your sweet pussy, baby?” he asks.

You mumble in agreement against the bed but then his hand comes around to grip your throat lightly and lifts your face off the bed. You hold yourself up and he moves the hair from your face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he says, leaning over you to speak in your ear. “Beg me, baby.”

“Yes please -” you say on a shaky breath. His hand comes up to grip your throat again. “Please fill me.”

With your permission now secured, he slams into you roughly. His groans and moans unabashedly loud he chants your name and praises right before his orgasm rips away his words and he growls as he spills inside you. His twitching cock and grip on your throat steals another release from deep in your stomach. Your soundless cries die on your lips when his hand falls from your throat to grip the breast with his bite mark, thumb smearing the blood.

[sangyeonsofthours]

"where do you think you're going?" your sudden raspy voice almost hurts from its roughness in the silent bedroom.

you had just spent the last ten minutes struggling against a deep slumber after one long pleasurable session with your fuck buddy, who was meant to be cuddling you right now instead of putting back his clothes. you just can’t believe this little piece of heaven is already in his jeans, almost ready to leave you.

on the other way around, sangyeon spent the said ten minutes trying to slip away from your arms without disturbing your sleep. but as if right on cue, when his arms attempted to slip his shirt on, you had to come back from dreamland and turn his exit harder than it already was.

“i have a class at 10 today” he sighs, shirt still hanging out on his broad shoulders, halfway through being put on, "you know i can't skip it anymore". with his back still facing you and only his head tuned to the side, he throws you a little smile.

“you said that five classes ago” you say, and the real battle begins when you throw him a devilish smirk.

detangling your naked body from the white sheets you can’t help but notice how the bedroom floor is a mess after last night’s activities, with your clothes discarded all over it. not that it is such new information since it always happens when you and sangyeon are too thirsty and desperate for each other.

“come back!” you say, approaching the man before you.

“uh-” you push yourself up against sangyeon’s naked back, delicately letting your fingers touch his slim waist in a caress you know he loves. sangyeon’s body is warm, just like his personality. and you try to steal as much of his warmth as you can, leaning down to kiss his shoulder with feather-like kisses, keeping your eyes in the tiny side part you can see from his face, studying his reaction.

you follow a path up reaching just under his ear and sangyeon can’t help but giggle, finding your behavior too cute, as he lets go of his shirt to take your hands into his, bringing them to fully hug him from behind. you rub your nose against his neck causing a fit of chills to erupt down the man’s skin.

the scene could look kinda erotic, like some romatic aesthetic movie maybe. your naked chest is pressed agains sangyeon's back and the morning sunlight coming through the curtains infuses a yellow aura into your room. it makes your skin and sangyeon's glow. it’s beautiful and cozy.

see, that’s the problem with being friends with benefits. you crave sangyeon’s presence and affection, still, you’re incapable of vocalizing it in the right way.

so all you do is beg him to stay.

“don’t go” your voice is just a low mumble now, and this garners sangyeon’s attention. it’s your bedroom voice, a tone you very much reserve for him, when you want him completely weak for you.

and sangyeon wants so bad to say no, not because he doesn’t want to stay but because he thinks it would be better that he didn’t.

so that’s it. you both are just such dumbers in love.

what started out as just some casual friends with benefits relationship between you and lee sangyeon, grew into something that is now completely out of control. and you’re both growing attached to each other, spending most of your free time together, doing things that your mutual friends would point as… couple things. can you imagine that? developing more than just platonic feelings towards your fuck buddy?

it's confusing. still, you do what your heart wants you to do.

“stay, please?” you beg and unbeknown to you, sangyeon does just the same.

“alright, i’ll stay… but just this time.”

“hm, that’s debatable” you hum, lips curving into a big grin as the man of your dreams just turns around in your embrace, leaning right in to kiss you hard like a starved man, hugging you tight against his body.

and even though you don’t know it yet, both of your hearts flutter for each other.

n/a: ok... so... i guess i'm back???? im sorry for any mistakes, that's not proof readen, i just wrote it in a rush bc of INSPIRATION and asdjqwaçsdlska i dont know, what do you guys think about it? ill try to be more active now I PROMISE