#and the comments full of WELL I WOULD HAVE ASKED HIM IF HE HAD A DICK IN RETURN

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - pt. five - I know the end

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You didn’t talk to Rafe until Wednesday when he texted you before your shift. 

R: can’t wait to see you, pretty girl :) 

Y: me too <3

You wanted to tell him everything so badly, about JJ showing up and everything you went through with him, but you couldn’t do that over the phone. There was no telling what he'd do when he found out. So you waited. You got to the Club before him on Wednesday, clocking in and tending to your tables, which were already full. It was going to be a busy night and usually you would welcome that, it helped pass the time. But, not today. Today, all you wanted was to talk to Rafael. 

You were busy with one of your tables when he walked in. He admired the black cocktail uniform that clung to your body and the way your hair hung in its low ponytail. He felt lucky to know you, to get to watch as you interacted with your regular customers, always kind, no matter the circumstances. You didn’t do it because you had to, you did it because that’s just who you were. You flirted with your eyes as you spotted him and he returned it, a small smile lacing his features. It was thirty minutes before you could get away from your tables due to the dinner rush, but Rafe made a point to stay at the bar until he got a chance to speak to you. Even though looking at you was always enough, he wanted to hear your sweet voice in his ears. 

“Rafael.” 

You whispered into his ear, blowing in it, as you came up behind him. It sent shivers down his spine. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” 

He replied with a smile on his face, finally hearing that voice, that sound he had been craving. You slowly made your way behind the bar so you could stand in front of him and look at his handsome face. Rafe and handsome have always been synonymous words in your brain, but he didn’t need to know that. You quickly got to work, making a drink. A Tequila sunrise. It was your favorite to make, mostly because of how pretty the hues of orange and pink were, hence its name. You sat it in front of Rafe. 

“I didn’t order this-”

“It’s on the house.” 

You replied, winking at him. 

“Well what is it? It looks girly.” 

He chuckled. 

“It’s my favorite. Just try it.” 

You giggled at him and he sipped it slowly. His face shriveled up as the familiar taste of way too much tequila hit his lips. 

“Jesus, Y/n, who taught you how to mix drinks? This is awful.” 

His comment made you chuckle heartily. 

“That would be you, Rafael.” 

He grinned cheekily as he recalled the first time he asked you to make him a margarita, which you failed miserably at, prompting him to teach you how. You had never really mastered the skill of mixing drinks, but he pretended you were okay at it to appease you. Rafe was brought out of his thoughts as he watched your body tense up. He wondered if he had said or did the wrong thing and then he followed your eyes, as they landed on JJ who was across the room with Kiara, sitting in your section. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

You whispered, hoping Rafe wouldn’t hear you. He reached out, grazing your hand with his fingertips as you vigorously wiped down the wood of the bar. 

“You want me to beat him up, again?” 

Rafe questioned innocently and you chuckled. 

“No, he’s not worth it.” 

“He is if you’re upset.” 

Rafe stated, matter-of-factly.

“It’s not that, it’s just he knows this is my section and he sat in it on purpose. They just want to torture me like it’s not bad enough he slept with my best friend.”

The sadness that laced your voice made Rafe’s chest tight. 

“Go take care of your tables and I’ll be right here the whole time. You just put your hand behind your back and ball up a fist if you need me, okay?” 

You nodded, thankful Rafe chose today of all days to be here. You slowly but surely made your way from behind the bar and headed to the Carrera’s table. 

“Hey guys! How are you?” 

The Carerra’s faces lit up at seeing you. They had no idea why you hadn’t been coming around or the way their daughter had betrayed you. It wasn’t their fault she was a bitch and you weren’t going to punish them for it. 

“Hey, sweet girl! We miss you. Where have you been?” 

Kiara’s mom asked. She was an angel and always had been and you loved her. 

“Just working.”

You gave your ex-best friend’s parents a tight lipped smile. Kiara’s eyes were apologetic even though she had never said she was sorry for what she had done. 

“Well, we miss you. You should come see us soon!” 

Mr. Carerra spoke up. 

“I will. So what can I get you guys?” 

“JJ and I will have two bacon cheeseburgers and a basket of fries to share.” 

Kiara spoke with a cheeky smile, flaunting the consolation prize of her betrayal, a piece of shit pogue boy who is going nowhere. You had never had a problem with the Pogues until you had become one and they all betrayed you by covering up JJ’s infidelity. The Pogues were poison, just like Rafe had warned you all those years ago. 

“I’m gonna hit the head.” 

JJ muttered, surely feeling awkward about Kiara’s incessant need to be a show off. She wasn’t always this awful and you weren’t sure when she had taken a turn for the worst. 

“What about you, Mike?”

You questioned Mr. Carerra. 

“I’ll take the 15 oz ribeye. Medium rare with potatoes and green beans.” 

“Yes, sir. That sounds amazing!” 

You reply with faux enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pull up a chair with us and grab a bite to eat.” 

He spoke, his kind gesture making your heart melt. 

“I definitely will if I can go on my break soon.” 

You smiled at him. 

“And for you, Anna?” 

You questioned Kiara’s mother. 

“I’ll do the chef salad with ranch, dear. I’d also love a small side of the mac and cheese.” 

She smiled softly, you missed the warmth that you felt when she smiled at you.

“You got it, I’ll be right back with the food. Can I get you guys anything to drink?” 

You asked.

“Just make sweet tea for all of us, sweetheart.” 

Anna spoke kindly and you nodded. 

Rafe watched as you made your way back to the kitchen to make their drinks and put the order in. After a few minutes he began to get a little worried, his radar for you always on high alert. For some reason it was taking you a long time to come back to him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. That’s when he saw it, JJ Maybank had you cornered in the hallway of the dining room. He stayed back though, knowing you’d give him your signal if you needed help. Rafe was always very protective of you but he always tried to let you fight your own battles. Mostly because once when he defended you in the third grade by beating up the boy who was teasing you, you kicked him in the balls and let him know that you were your own hero. That was the day he realized he loved you. He smiled at the memory of your pigtails and the redness of your cheeks. Then, suddenly, Rafe was brought out of his thoughts at hearing bits and pieces of the venomous words JJ was speaking to you and he sprung into action as he saw your fist balled up behind your back. He made his way over to you, half-running, his protective nature overcoming his logical thinking. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” 

He watched you as you visibly relaxed under his presence, knowing there was no way JJ could hurt you in Rafe’s presence. 

“Hey, Rafey-” 

You were cut off by JJ’s sneer. 

“Everything was perfectly fine until you fucking interrupted our conversation.” 

JJ spat in Rafe's direction.

“I clearly wasn’t asking you douchebag, I was asking her.” 

Rafe responded nonchalantly. You could feel the anger emanating from him, his chest warm on your back, but he was holding back. You knew he was doing it for you. If that didn't prove he wasn't the same rafe you used to know, you didn't know what did.

“Right and here I was thinking you were calling me sweetheart.” 

JJ spoke sarcastically. His sarcasm you used to find endearing, charming even, and now, it just made him more of a dick.

“What a shame JJ. Are you regretting losing my girl, that’s why you got her cornered in a dark hallway. Is Kie not enough for you?” 

And - there it was. Rafe’s tone was laced with danger and he willed JJ to use his words correctly before he killed him with his bare hands. 

“Your girl?! I’m not regretting anything if you must fucking know.” 

JJ spat, almost unable to control his emotions.

“I mean, no judgment at all dude, she’s easily the best girl on this island.” 

Rafe gave him a wink. He was a cocky little bastard when he wanted to be.

“Oh, you’d know, wouldn’t you? Haven’t you had every girl on the island?” 

JJ questioned. He was a real asshole when he wanted to be.

“Could say the same to you, you know since you're passing your dick around like it’s the community pool.” 

Rafe spit back.

“Rafael-”

You spoke softly, feeling the vibration of your glucose monitor go off. You didn’t feel right, something was wrong. You placed your hand limply around his bicep, urging him to back off and call it a day. 

“Rafael? Who the fuck is Rafael and why are you touching him like that?” 

JJ questioned, confusedly. 

“That would be me, big guy.” 

Rafe muttered, raising his two fingers like attendance was being taken in homeroom. 

“I-”

“You know what, if you must know, it’s none of your business how she touches me or how often she uses a nickname with me or how many times she’s kissed me.” 

Rafe growled.

“How many times she what-” 

The hurt and jealousy that laced JJ’s eyes was something you’d never seen before.

“Joseph-” 

You whispered Rafe’s middle name, which got his attention. You never called him Joseph, ever, and when he looked into your eyes he knew something was wrong. It clicked in his brain too late, as he felt you loosen your grip from his arm and he watched in horror as you hit the ground. Your head bounced off the carpet and you started convulsing violently. 

“Angel! No! No, no, no, no, no.” 

Rafe’s panicked voice echoed through the club as he yelled. 

“Turn her on her side! She’s having a diabetic seizure!” 

JJ interjected, yelling as he got down rolling you onto your side while Rafe stabilized your head. 

“JJ, call 911!” 

Rafe screeched.

“I’m on it!” 

He yelled as he ran to grab his phone from the table, meeting Kiara’s eyes as he ran quickly back to you and Rafe. 

“It’s okay, sweet, baby girl. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.” 

Rafe whispered as he counted the seconds until your body stopped convulsing. He was careful with your head, scared he’d hurt you or that you would have brain damage when you woke up. Kiara had followed JJ back to Rafe, curious as to why her boyfriend was so distressed. 

“J-”

Her voice faltered as she caught your unconscious form on the carpet of the country club. 

“What the fuck is this? Why are you helping her?!” 

She yelled in JJ’s direction, confusion and hurt, lacing her tone. 

“Kie-, please tell me you’re not so insecure that you care that he’s trying to help me save your best friend from dying right now.” 

Rafe growled in her direction and she made her way back to the table in tears. The ambulance got there quickly and immediately administered insulin and oxygen, which seemed to bring your vitals up. Rafe hopped in the back with you, not caring about leaving his truck at the club. He’d uber to get it later, once he knew you were okay. 

-

When you started to stir, the first thing you noticed was the smell of sterilization and the weight of something pricking the hand of your skin. You were in the hospital. Shit. Willing yourself to pry your eyes open, you slowly blinked, taking in a tall figure, reading a book beside you, one of his hands in yours. You coughed, your throat and mouth extremely dry. His blue eyes met yours and you registered who it was. Rafael. 

He stood up, making his way closer to you, standing over your head, in your line of vision. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks and he placed a kiss on your forehead before he spoke. 

“Hey, pretty girl. How are you feeling?” 

You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and then it dawned on you, your dad was going to kill you. You tried to sit up, which was a huge mistake as the movement shook your head a little too hard. Rafe pushed you back down by your shoulders. 

“Easy, Tiger.” 

He spoke softly, bringing a cup of water with a straw up to your lips, as he sat in front of you on the bed. You swallowed vigorously, like it was the first cup of water you’d had in ten years. 

“Slow down, baby.” 

He whispered in a sweet tone. You made eye contact with him after you decided you had enough of the beverage. 

“Rafe, what happened?” 

You questioned, confusedly.

“Your pump stopped working and you had a seizure from not getting your insulin.” 

You nodded your head in response, shock rittling your senses at his words. It shouldn’t have surprised you after how many times it had happened, but it did and it hurt your feelings every single one. 

“Will you lay with me?” 

You asked, as sweet as could be and he couldn't deny you.

“Of course, sweet girl.” 

Rafe crawled into the bed next to you, letting you cuddle into him and lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat brought you solace. He stroked your hair gently, his fingertips barely grazing the strands, and placed a kiss on your bandaged forehead. You had a concussion and some stitches from where you hit your head on the floor and he was as careful as possible when he placed the kiss, scared he’d hurt you. 

“Rafael, thank you for taking care of me and for being here.” 

You praised.

“Anything for you, baby. I’m always going to be here. You can count on that.” 

He smiled into your hairline, continuing to stroke it and you felt immense peace. You couldn’t tell what had changed or why, but you believed him with every fiber of your being. 

-

The next time you woke up, you were in Rafe’s arms, his soft snores infiltrating your ears and the aroma of the hospital room making its way into your nostrils. He had been at your beck and call for the last three days and he was tired, he needed the rest. You shifted your body, though careful not to move too quickly, afraid you’d wake him. Looking up at his sweet face, you traced your fingers down the bridge of his nose. How could one person be this perfect? You pondered. It was more than his chiseled jaw that you had always admired or his tan skin, he had begun to show you that he was a good man and that’s something you hadn’t seen in him in a long time, maybe ever. It made you love him in a way that you never had. A soft knock on the door took you out of your thoughts and you were praying to God that whoever it was wouldn’t wake up the giant man sleeping soundly next to you. Then, you saw brown hair with highlights peek through the crack of the door and you realized it was Topper. He peeked his head all the way through the door, and a bright smile littered his face. Kelce followed his lead, as he knocked softly again, making sure it was okay to come through the threshold of the hospital room. 

“Knock, knock.” 

He whispered and was surprised when he was met with your eyes instead of Rafe’s. 

“Shh.” 

You spoke, motioning your pointer finger to your lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. Seeing Rafe so still and soft, in an almost childlike state while sleeping was enough to make you swoon and you wanted him to stay this way as long as possible. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one resting?” 

Topper teased as he brought a balloon that read “it’s a girl!” to your bedside. It made you giggle. 

“Sorry, they ran out of “Sorry you have diabetes” balloons.” 

Kelce quipped. Your giggle was now a full-fledged belly laugh. "These two idiots!", you thought. As your laugh erupted from your stomach, Rafe began to stir, shifting his weight in the small bed. You lifted your hand, running your fingertips softly through the hair that was now hanging in his face. He nestled his face into your shoulder, curling his long legs into his stomach. There’s no way he’s comfortable, you thought. But you also didn’t have the heart to wake him. 

“I want him to sleep as long as possible, he’s been up for days worrying about me.” 

You spoke flatly and the boys understood the sentiment of your words. They cared deeply for both of you. 

“When are they saying you’ll be able to go home?” 

Kelce probed, wanting you to feel as normal as possible as soon as possible. 

“This afternoon, I think.” 

He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“That’s good, pretty girl. You know he’s not going to leave your side, right?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, the same way you two were the last time.” 

You joked.

“The last time you almost died. This isn’t that.” 

Topper’s tone was cold and he didn’t mean it to be, but he didn’t understand your calm, cool, and collected nature when it came to such traumatic events with your health. The room grew eerily silent and you were the first to break it. 

“Let’s not talk about that in front of Rafe, okay?” 

Both boys simply nodded their heads in response, understanding of your wishes. Topper and Kelce stayed for about an hour before deciding to go. Rafe stirred awake not long after they had departed from the room.

“Pretty girl. What time is it?” 

He asked, his eyes fluttering open to see yours staring up at him. His voice was gruff and sexy like only boys can be when they’ve first woken up.

“Well, good morning handsome. It’s 1pm.” 

You responded with a light chuckle.

“Gosh, How long have I been asleep?” 

“Since last night around 11.” 

He nodded his head, his still sleepy response was noted by you. 

“Did someone come to visit or did I dream about that?” 

You giggled, placing your hand on his cheek softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth underneath his eye. 

“It wasn't a dream, Topper and Kelce were here this morning.” 

You whispered sweetly, bringing your hands up to his hair, stroking lightly. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” 

His eyebrows furrowed as he asked the question.

“You needed the sleep, Rafael. You’ve been awake, worrying about me for the last three days and that won’t do either of us any good.” 

He brought your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, wanting your eyes to meet his, and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“It’s my job to worry about you.” 

-

You were discharged from the hospital not long after Rafe had woken up, which you kind of despised, you wished he would’ve stayed asleep and gotten as much rest as he needed. The past few days had taken a toll on him and they would have taken a toll on anybody. No one wakes up and expects the girl they love to have a seizure and be put in the hospital. He had never seen you this fragile and that thought alone ate him alive. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to protect you from this. This wasn’t some mouthy pogue or a handsy touron he could punch out and call it a day, nestling you safely into his arms after disposing of the threat. This was an illness, a disease, that no one had control over, that no one could predict and even the best safety measures couldn’t protect you from a failing insulin pump. That part of it destroyed him. But the part of it that didn’t was seeing you be strong through all of it. You made jokes at your own expense, which was how you coped. You had done that for years with a lot of things. You did it the day you got your braces on when you were afraid of how Rafe would perceive your new appearance. Spoiler alert: he thought you were beautiful. You did it when your grandma died and when your parents fought and even when JJ cheated on you. The only thing you had never done it about was Rafe. His absence was the only thing that hurt too bad to joke about. He admired the fact that you could joke about your illness and how annoyed you got when he fussed over you, especially today, as he was driving you to his house from the hospital. When they had wheeled you out of the front doors of the hospital, Rafe gently lifted your body with his strong arms and placed you into the passenger seat of his truck. He made sure you were comfortable before lacing his hands through the seatbelt, stretching it across your body and buckling you in, the familiar click as the extender and the buckle met filtering through the car.  

“Rafe, I can buckle myself. My arms are in perfect working condition.” 

You scoffed, his incessant need to take care of you getting on your nerves. 

“I know you can. Just let me dote on you today, okay?” 

His voice was almost pleading. You gave him a reassuring nod, knowing that this is what he needed at the moment, even if you didn’t. You smiled, you loved this soft side of him, but eventually, it'd have to stop. Diabetes was something you’d been dealing with on your own for years. You didn’t need the hovering or the constant worry from your brown-haired, blue-eyed lover. You needed him to know you were strong and capable, not this weak damsel in distress he thought you were. You decided you would give it a day and have a conversation with him if it hadn’t stopped by the end of the week. As he made sure you were okay, he made his way to the driver’s side and started the truck, heading for Tannyhill. Your parents were in Thailand for business and couldn’t get back in time for you to be discharged, which you were thankful for. You didn’t need the wrath of your father right now, your brain and body still too tired from the trauma they endured. Rafe had told your mother you could stay at Tannyhill until they got home, which would be a week from today and he couldn’t help but be excited at having you this close for this long. You fell asleep on the ride home to Rafe’s, the slinging of gravel under his tires making you stir, as he pulled to the front of the house. He quickly got out and made his way to your side of the car, opening your door and unbuckling you, before lifting you in his arms once more and carrying you inside. The shift in your surroundings made you groan. 

“Mmmm.” 

You grunted out, Rafe’s lips turned up in a smile. 

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay. We’re home. I’m gonna take you to bed.” 

He whispered in your ear. 

“Mmmm, Rafey.” 

You said it like his name was the yummiest thing your tongue had ever tasted, a sleepy smile plastered on your face. As he opened the door, you felt yourself wanting to fight, wanting to prove to him you could do it yourself, but your body was too tired to try and argue with the comforting embrace of the boy you loved. You took in the smell of him as you heard him telling his family not to talk above a whisper while making his way through the living room. He smelled like sea salt, whiskey, and expensive cologne - a familiar smell for many reasons, it reminded you of home, the island, the stupid pretentious parties, and the ocean you’d grown to love the sight of. However, it reminded you of home because he was stitched in every memory of you being in these places, in this atmosphere. The smell was bliss, the smell was Rafe. 

“Please if you talk to her or around her, talk in a whisper. She’s got a concussion and ten stitches on her forehead. If she’s in a room, the lights need to be off, at least until tomorrow.” 

Rafe whisper-yelled over your half-asleep form, to his family before walking up the stairs. 

“Don’t worry, son. We got it. We’ve dealt with a concussion before.” 

Ward giggled because his son had had six concussions in his football career, they knew very well how to take care of one, but Rafe’s protective nature shined through and allowed him to forget that. He loved that his son cared this deeply for another person, there was a time when he wondered if he ever would. 

Rafe slowly but surely carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, laying you down in his usual resting place, which was the comfiest place on the mattress. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Luckily, you were dressed in cozy clothes so he didn’t have to wake you. Instead, he brought the blankets under your chin and slid in next to you, falling asleep fast as he clung to your small frame. 

-

When you woke the next morning, Rafe was no longer next to you, which made you curious, so you made your way out of bed and slowly peered down the hallway. There was no sign of him in the bathroom or any of the bedrooms upstairs. You peered eerily over the edge of the staircase banister, looking for any sign of him. 

“Rafael” 

You called out and he came barreling up the stairs from around the corner in the kitchen. You admired him in his domestic form, basketball shorts, t-shirt, and messy hair. A still sleepy smile danced across his face as he took in the sight of you. He hadn’t been awake very long. 

“Pretty girl, good morning.” 

He spoke with a smile, making his way up to you, and placing a kiss on your hairline. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” 

He questioned.

“I couldn’t find you” 

You brought your lips to a pout and it sent a shiver down his spine. He loved that you wanted to be so close to him. You were enamored by everything that he was and you couldn’t get enough. 

“You want some coffee? I made your favorite.” 

You were confused. How could he possibly know what your favorite coffee is? You had been not speaking for the last two years, there was no way he had made you the right thing.

“Which would be what?” 

You questioned, confusion lacing your face. 

“White chocolate mocha with ½ and ½ instead of milk and an extra shot of white chocolate.” 

“Rafe, how did you know?” 

“I’ve just paid attention and it helps that you’ve had the same coffee order since we were 13.” 

He joked and you gushed internally, your core became warm at his sentiment, leaving you flustered and on edge. 

“Rafael, that’s so sweet, thank you.” 

You whispered as you pulled him in for a tight hug. 

“Let’s go downstairs and get you that coffee.” 

He spoke sweetly and you followed him down the staircase. When you had made it to the kitchen, you noted that Rafe had all kinds of coffee and syrups lining the island, where he was topping your cup off with whipped cream. It was a surprise that Rafe was an actual coffee drinker, not a poser who orders the closest thing to a milkshake he can find at every coffee shop. Rafe pulled a barstool out for you to sit on from underneath the island and helped you onto it before sliding it close to the edge of the countertop. 

“Rafael, when did you become such a coffee whore?” 

You asked innocently, not realizing how funny the remark was. Rafe let out a belly laugh. 

“Uh, my mom got me into drinking it right before she passed. It was something I clung to when she died. The warmth of a good cup of coffee reminds me of her hugs.” 

He spoke with a smile. 

“Well, now I feel like an asshole.” 

You muttered, a grimace on your face. 

“What do you mean? Why?” 

 “I thought you were going to have some douchey frat boy response. Like, you started drinking it to get a girl’s attention or something.” 

Rafe chuckled at you being so taken aback by him. 

“No, I’m not that guy anymore.” 

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” 

You mumbled what you thought was quietly, but evidently not quiet enough, as Rafe’s eyes went wide at your confession. 

“Let me take you on a date today.” 

He spoke softly, timidness dancing across his body language. You smiled at him brightly and when he looked at his feet, waiting for you to tell him no, you lifted his chin with your thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” 

“Sorry-”

“No, I mean, don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s fine, baby. I thought you’d never ask.” 

He smiled as widely as he could. 

“Okay, well let’s get some food in your stomach and then we’ll get ready and make a day out of it. Do you feel okay enough for that?” 

“Yeah, I feel fine. But, what do you mean? Where are you taking me?” 

You looked confused. You had never really been on a real date, JJ didn’t have very much money, which was never an issue for you. You didn’t mind paying for whatever the two of you did. But, even still he lacked romance and creativity. There was never a movie date or a day at the beach, just the two of you. It was all about the Pogues all the time and that was one of the many reasons you didn’t miss him. 

“That I cannot reveal yet, sweetheart.” 

He smiled cheekily and it made your heart warm. You were excited and you knew Rafe wasn’t going to disappoint. Rafe Cameron wasn’t known for romance, yet you believed he had something special up his sleeves. He made eggs, bacon, and toast with jelly, which was your favorite kind of breakfast. You appreciated how thoughtful he was. After you finished eating, he asked you to go get dressed and pack a bag. 

“Did you get enough to eat, sweetheart?” 

He questioned, always aware of the sugar demon that lived inside your bloodstream now. Apart from worrying about your sugar, he just wanted to make sure you were full, which you appreciated. 

“Yes, Rafael. I’m full.” 

You smiled in his direction, before hopping off the barstool and heading upstairs to take a shower, wanting to look your best for your date with him. 

“Do you mind picking out my clothes since I’m not allowed to know what we’re doing?” 

You questioned, turning around as you reached the bottom of the staircase, meeting his blue eyes that were boring into the back of your head already. 

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’d love to.” 

He gave you a reassuring nod as you turned around and made your way up the staircase, smiling like an idiot over the fact that you caught him staring at you. As you reached the top of the stairs, you realized you were already winded and tired, an after effect of your recent health scare. You made your way into Rafe’s room, which had a connecting bathroom. You quickly grabbed your insulin and bath supplies, knowing you’d need to change your pump when you got out and made your way into the bathroom, where you stripped yourself of your clothes and turned on the water. You liked the water scalding hot, you always joked that you like to feel like you’re in the pits of hell until your shower is over and the cool air of the bathroom brushes up against your naked skin. You removed the old insulin pump, discarding it into the trash, and hopped in the shower. You didn’t waste much time, but you did let the hot water soothe your muscles for a bit before you washed your hair and body and it felt so good. When you were done, you exited the shower, grabbing Rafe’s towel from the drying rack and wrapping it around your body. You made your way into the bedroom, where you found a beautiful, white lace sundress with a note attached to it. 

A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Saw this downtown last week and it reminded me of you. What a perfect day to wear it, yeah? I packed your bag with all the necessary snacks and medicine and put a bathing suit in there for you too. The white one-piece you wore on the druthers, it’s my favorite.

X, 

Rafael

You audibly gasped at how thoughtful Rafe had been and there you were, smiling like an idiot in the middle of his bedroom. You put on your bra and underwear and called his name, wanting him to come to help you with applying a new insulin pump. Today was as good a day as any for him to learn how to do it. 

“Rafael!” 

You bellowed out his name and he came up the stairs quickly, you could hear his feet hitting each mahogany panel. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb you if you weren’t decent. You slowly slid the dress up your legs, so he could only see your bra. 

“You can come in, I need your help.” 

He swung the door open at that, afraid you were sick or in trouble in some other way. His eyes landed on you, sitting on his bed, with the dress he had bought you covering your bottom half, nothing but your bra covering your top. 

“Woah.” 

He whispered, a smirk tracing his lips. 

“Easy, tiger. I need help with my pump. There’s no fire anywhere.” 

You giggled softly at him. He looked so afraid when he swung the door open.

“Okay, pretty girl, tell me what to do.” 

“I have everything ready. I just need you to plunge it into my skin, somewhere it won’t show in this dress.” 

“Is your stomach okay?” 

He questioned you, watching as you inserted the insulin into the pump and let it prime. As much as you wanted to tell him, no, to run, to scream, to hide - you couldn’t. Your stomach was the best place for the pump, but it was also a place you didn’t want Rafe to look at. Over the last two years, your stomach had become littered with scars from failed pump sites and it made you insecure about your body. This is why you stuck to one-piece bathing suits. 

“U-uh, yeah.” 

Rafe noticed the shift in your behavior and he didn’t take it lightly. 

“Hey, pretty girl, what’s the matter?” 

You stared down at him, as he was now rocking on the balls of his feet and squatted in front of you. 

“It’s just, my stomach, it isn’t pretty anymore, okay?”

“What do you mean? Everything about you is pretty.” 

“I have a lot of scars from my pump on my stomach. It’s probably better if I show you.” 

He nodded gingerly and you delicately pushed the dress down to your hips, revealing the fullness of your tiny waist and belly. The scars that littered it were discolored, some black, and brown, and the oldest ones were white. Some were longer and larger than the others. You swallowed thickly as you watched Rafe’s blue eyes take in the tattered skin and you let a tear fall from your eye. You hoped he didn’t notice, but he did. 

“Hey, this doesn’t change anything. Everybody has scars. It’s okay, baby.” 

“I’m ugly, Rafe.” 

“Believe me, darling, you are the furthest thing there ever was from ugly and a few scars won’t change my mind. I have scars too.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“Yeah, look, this is from that time you pushed me off my bike when we were seven. Remember I had all those stitches?” 

He asked, pointing to his face, which he had landed on when he fell. You chuckled to yourself. He had pissed you off so bad that day when he wouldn’t let you play with his spiderman action figures. 

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I was a bitch.” 

You laughed and Rafe wiped some of the tears off your face. 

“You’ve never been a bitch. I promise.” 

You sniffled and smiled at him, thankful for his kind words. 

“Everybody has scars, sweet girl. They make us who we are, they’re proof we’ve lived. You’ve just lived a lot of life.” 

You hugged him tightly, his fingers tracing the skin of your bare back. 

“Okay, pick a spot on my belly and stick it there.” 

“How’s here?” 

He asked, placing the pump close to your naval. 

“That’s great. Just hold it there until you hear the click.” 

He did as he was told, holding it until he heard the audible click of the needle going into your fragile skin. You grimaced. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

His brows furrowed in concern. 

“I’m okay, Rafael. It’s just the needle.” 

Your response seemed to soothe him enough because the next thing you knew his hands had traveled to your hips and he began helping you pull the dress up over your middle and placed the straps securely on your shoulders. He turned you around to look in the mirror. 

“How’s that, pretty girl? Do you like it?” 

“I love it, Rafe. Thank you so much.” 

-

Shortly after your bedroom excursion, you and Rafe were ready to go, you still clueless as to where he was taking you or what your date entailed. He led you outside to his truck, grabbing the bag he had packed for you and placing it on the backseat floorboard. When he opened the back passenger door, you noticed there was a picnic basket with pink tulips hanging out the side of it. They were your favorite flower, which Rafe definitely knew. You smirked at this small detail. So far he was blowing your expectations out of the water, which you had no doubt he would. He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you yet again. You were starting to think this had less to do with your fragility and more to do with the fact that he just liked doing it. 

You and Rafe quickly arrived downtown, walking around all your favorite boutiques and shops. As you walked down the cobblestone streets of Kildare, Rafe reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You could’ve sworn you had died and gone to heaven. You had loved this boy as long as you could remember and even your wildest of fantasies would’ve never given you the idea he’d ever want you like this. You watched the ground as you walked, eyes on your feet and you felt his eyes boring a hole into the side of your head. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” 

You spoke freely, letting out a giggle and Rafe rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I just wanted to look at you.” 

He spoke softly. 

“Why?” 

“Cause you’re beautiful.” 

He spoke with more fire this time, saying the words boldly, with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make a move, or get you to sleep with him, he just needed you to know and you sensed that he meant it. 

“You make me feel good, Rafe.” 

“Well, that’s kinda the whole point of this. If I’m ever not making you feel good, then that’s when we should reevaluate what we’re doing.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, knowing he needed you to understand what he was saying, that’d you tell him if ever wasn’t making you feel good. 

“You want some ice cream, beautiful?” 

Your face lit up and Rafe giggled. You were always in the mood for ice cream, something he noted when you were thirteen. Every time he has ever asked if you wanted ice cream, your answer has been yes. 

“You know I do.” 

You snorted at his knowledge of you, at his ability to read you like a book. He nodded and you made your way into the ice cream shop. Rafe made you sit at a table while he ordered and when he brought you the ice cream you beamed up at him. 

“Mint chocolate chip, you remembered!” 

You exclaimed. It was like Rafe’s thoughts were consumed by you, it seemed he knew everything there was to know about you. 

“I remember everything about you, honey.” 

You blushed at his remark. You were thankful for this day with him. It was simple and domestic and freeing and you were just thankful. 

“This has been fun, Rafael. Thank you.” 

You smiled sweetly, meeting his blue eyes with yours, blushing again. 

“You’re welcome, pretty girl. But, it’s not over yet. I have one more surprise for you.” 

“What else could you possibly have up your sleeve?” 

You questioned him with a belly laugh, thinking this sweet boy had already gone above and beyond for you. You both finished off your ice cream and Rafe led you back to the truck, following his routine of buckling you in before he made his way inside. He definitely liked doing it, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. 

The ride was quiet and after fifteen minutes, he pulled into the public beach parking lot. He helped you out of the vehicle once again, grabbing the picnic basket, along with your bag of necessities, and placing it on his shoulders. He carried that bag as if his life depended on it. Once you made it down to the sand, he laid out the white knitted blanket he had brought with him and instructed you to sit down, while he unpacked the picnic basket. 

“These are for you. I know they’re your favorite.” 

Rafe spoke matter-of-factly, pulling the pink tulips out of the basket and handing them to you. Your smile was giddy and you couldn’t contain yourself. You’d jump his bones right here if you knew you wouldn’t get arrested. 

“Rafe, these are so beautiful!” 

You exclaimed, joy written on your features. He loved that look on you. The joy. 

“I’m glad you like them.” 

He giggled and put his arm around you, placing his hand on the other side of your hip in the sand. 

“You just seem to know all my favorite things.” 

Blush infiltrated the pores of your cheeks. 

“It’s not hard if you pay attention.” 

His words meant more to you than anyone’s ever had before, but the truth of them stung. This is what love is supposed to feel like, to be like and now you know why you didn’t miss JJ. Because he wasn’t the one and Rafe was. Rafe’s next line of questioning brought you out of your head. 

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?” 

He questioned with soft eyes. 

“I could eat.” 

You replied, a soft smile on your lips. 

“PB & J or Turkey and Mayo?” 

He asked, pulling two sandwiches out of the basket. 

“PB & J.” 

You replied. 

He ever so slowly plated the sandwiches and put apple slices with caramel sauce beside them. 

“Here you go, m’lady.” 

“Rafe, this is so sweet.” 

You gushed, heart almost bursting at the seams for the effort he put into this. 

“Water or champagne?” 

His line of questioning continued.

“Depends, what are we celebrating?” 

“Just me, being here, with you.” 

“Champagne it is then.” 

Rafe took the two glasses out of the picnic basket, handing you yours to hold while he poured it. He looked up at your face, golden hour making the hues of orange, yellow, and pink dance across your face. He noticed something on your cheek, right near your lip - a scar, medium size, white in color, in a jagged line. His fingers traced over it as he finished pouring your beverage. You shied away from his touch. 

“I’m sorry, angel.” 

He looked defeated, afraid he had done the wrong thing. This perfect day, did he just fuck it up? He wondered. 

“It’s okay. No worries.” 

You smiled at him and leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder. 

“Can you tell me what that’s from?” 

He asked. He needed to know at some point, you knew that. But, that didn’t mean the conversation would be easy or that he wouldn’t get angry. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Rafe.” 

He was taken aback, what was so bad that you thought he wouldn’t want to know. He wanted to know about every scar that littered your body. 

“Believe me when I say this, I most certainly do.” 

You huffed, loudly.

“You promise you won’t get mad?” 

“I promise, angel.” 

Your vision clouded with unshed tears, you had never had to explain to him the abuse you face from JJ and it would never be easy to talk about. 

“I-it’s from JJ.” 

You let the words sit in the thick air between you and Rafe. 

“What do you mean it’s from JJ?” 

Rafe’s eyes were laced with bewilderment and confusion. 

“F-from the first t-time.” 

Your voice became shaky, weak. 

“The first time for what, y/n?” 

“The f-first time he punched me in the f-face.”

“What the fuck did you just say?! He punched you in the face?!” 

Rafe questioned, a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before. 

“Y-you said you wouldn’t get mad.” 

Rafe looked up at you, tears falling freely down your face. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not mad, baby. Come here.” 

He reached out for you and lunged for him, clinging as tightly as you could to his middle, crying into his button-down. 

“Tell me what happened, angel. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’d never hurt you. I’d never dream of putting my hands on you, of hurting you.” 

He rocked you back and forth, peppering kisses into your hairline. Waiting until your breathing had become normal before he stopped, just sitting with his chin on top of your head. 

“He abused me the entire year we were together. It started when I told him I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, that I was saving it for the right person.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” 

“The first time he hit me, I still had braces on my teeth. Cut right through my cheek, that’s what the scar is from. I had to get 7 stitches.” 

He didn’t say anything, mostly because he knew that there was nothing he could say to make it better. He just squeezed you tighter and wondered how the fuck he was going to kill JJ Maybank. 

“Listen, angel, I don’t want you working at the club with him.” 

Rafe’s tone revealed how uneasy he truly was.” 

“I know. The first day you came to see me at work, he showed up that night. Told me to remember who I belonged to. I haven’t felt safe without you there, ever since.” 

“Baby, let me talk to dad and see how serious he is about wanting you to come work for him.” 

“You’d do that?” 

You looked up at him, shocked he would help you find work elsewhere when he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his responsibility. 

“You have no idea the things I’d do for you, sweet girl.” 

The words were heavy and somehow you knew he meant every single one. 

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

[novankenn]

Snippets from "A Mafia AU"

(Original Post) / Inspiration by @pilot-boi

Pyrrha was at her wits end. Currently she was engaged in a knife fight in the storage room of a Pumpkin Pete's Novelty store, because Jaune had decided it would be FUN to get her a matching hoodie! Pyrrha ducked under a wild slash, before lashing out with several rapid jabs of her own combat blade.

"Go away!" Pyrrha snapped, "You're running my date!"

"Date?" Pyrrha's current opponent, and Jaune's would have been assassin froze, and just stood there blinking her amber eyes. Her faunus trait, a set of cat ears that matched her long black hair flicked back and forth. "Date?"

"Forget I said that!" Pyrrha snapped, as she used that moment to take a more balanced combat stance, She had been fighting on the back foot this whole time and now. "Let's get this over Belladonna!"

"Hold on. I need a minute." Blake Belladonna, one of the premiere up close and personal assassins, commented as she absentmindedly tapped the flat of her knife blade against her cheek.

"You need a minute? I have to go. He's going to come looking for me, and I can not..."

"You know you shouldn't hide things from someone you're interested in. It will cause trust issues." Blake offered with a smile.

"What?"

"You can't have a solid foundation to a relationship with out trust." Blake continue to expand on the subject, "It's the cornerstone of any relationship, but doubly important in ones that end up long term, possible permanent?"

"Permanent?" Pyrrha stood up straight, giving Blake a narrow eyed gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, elaborate dresses, golden rings, white picket fences, children?"

"You can't be serious!" Pyrrha snapped. "I'm supposed to kill him, and he somehow saw me following him, and thinks I'm his body guard! I have no idea how to fix this!"

"You're the one that called it a date." Blake countered. "Not me, and if you really think about how you've been acting... it has been kind of body guardy."

"That's not a word." Pyrrha deadpanned.

"Eh. Anyway if you want out, and can't do it yourself... step aside. Let someone else..." Blake ducked out of the way of broom handle thrown like a spear. "Okay... touched a nerve there!"

"Pyr?" came the sound of worried voice. "Pyr are you okay? The sales woman said you ran into the back! Is your tummy bothering you?"

Blake froze, in complete shock at the words being uttered by her target to her rival, and the sight assaulting her. Pyrrha Nikos. THE Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos was blushing! Full on atomic red! It was all just surreal, that Blake couldn't make herself capitalize on the opening.

"Pyr?" the door creaked open behind the red head, who in a panic flicked her wrist sending her knife zipping through the air to bury itself with a thunk into an out of sight wall. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jaune." Pyrrha answered, turning herself to see Jaune as well as track Blake, who was still completely stunned by what was going on. "Just ran into..."

"A friend!" Blake announced, as she like Pyrrha disposed of her combat knife. Though Blake threw hers up into the ceiling.

"Well any friend of Pyr's is a friend of mine." Jaune cheerily spoke as he walked past Pyrrha with his hand extended for a greeting. "Name is Jaune Arc. Short sweet and the ladies love it!"

"They do?" Blake asked.

"Of course they do." Pyrrha chuckled nervously before moving to stand as close to Jaune as she could, without actually climbing on top of him. "Anyway I came back here, not because of my tummy..."

"Are you sure?" Jaune asked with genuine concern. "We have five cheese lasagna last night, and I know how cheese doesn't agree with you."

"I'm fine, Jaune." Pyrrha's blush gotten even darker, but her emerald eyes glinted dangerously when Blake's teasing grin was noticed. Blake didn't like that look. "This is Blake, and she... works here."

"I what?" Blake stuttered out.

"You do?" Jaune's eyes gleamed in excitement. "Yes, someone who knows Pyr and works here. You have to be able to help me find the PEREFCT hoodie for her!"

"Wait!" Blake yelped as Jaune grabbed her by the wrist and started to walk back to the front of the store. "How are you so strong?"

Pyrrha's blush, faded, and she took a slow steadying breath, before jogging to catch up, to keep an eye on her Jaune... er her target. Yep, her target... no her Jaune. Pyrrha grit her teeth and internally screamed at her traitorous mind.

A/N - Figured I throw out another snippet, just for the hell of it, plus it's kind of of fun trying to come up with ridiculous situations to throw Pyrrha into. 😁

[itstheghostofmypast]

I'm Okay! Gwenchana!

Non-Idol Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: If there is one thing a good husband knows, it is that intimacy is not bound to the gratification of the physical being, but also the mind and soul.

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Rating: PG- 13

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est. Read Time: 10 min

Warnings: eldest sibling/child trauma (if ykyk)

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

AN: A bit self-indulgent- a light-hearted (i guess) fic before the first chapter of the Ice on My teeth series <3

He watched you walk into your shared bedroom and fall onto the bed, walking in behind you with a heavy sigh, tugging on his tie to loosen it. Perhaps the family dinner did not go as planned, well, most of it. The evening started off well, as well as it could be, honestly the only time he'd say you were this nervous was when you were around your parents. The jitters he'd see trembling through your frame had him holding himself back from enveloping you in a warm embrace, trying to soothe your nervousness, but the physical touch was one of the things you'd avoid around your family.

Slipping the tie off his neck, he unbuttoned his shirt, eying your sprawled out on the bed through the mirror. It was all fine, the conversation was light-hearted, the bare minimum critical comments were targeted towards you, nothing you couldn't handle- until your sibling had arrived.

With a heavy sigh he turned to face you, only to notice your soft breathing, of course, you had fallen asleep. Removing his shirt he walked over to you, reaching over to gently brush the loose strands of hair on your face, his lips pressed into a thin line as he noticed the pink puffiness around your closed eyes, the memories of you crying your heart out in the car on the way back had his heart clench again.

“Love, wake up,” the soft whisper of your husband stirred you out of your dreamless slumber, slowly you opened your eyes and turned your head to glance up at the man who gave you a soft smile in return. Helping you sit up his nimble fingers began to unbutton your top, slipping it off your shoulders. The chill in the room had goosebumps scatter across your warm skin, pulling you into full consciousness, as you pouted at him, “You want to do it now?” you asked, wondering if you should tell him that you were in no mood for it tonight, not that he’d force you, but you did notice how restless he was during dinner, and in the car on the way back, so perhaps he was expecting something.

“Huh? Oh.” the man chuckled at your silly little antics, “Such a naughty wife I have.” he mumbled, staring up at you as he crouched down between your legs, looking up at you while he slipped off your socks, “I just thought a nice warm bath would help you sleep better.”

“Oh…” your face flushed at the statement, embarrassed at the mistake you had just made, wondering why you even thought of it in the first place. Though you couldn't ponder about it any longer, especially when you were scooped up into his arms, a yelp escaping your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for warmth, in nothing but your undergarments, “Sannie!”

“Don't worry, I'll be careful!”

His declaration echoed in the washroom as he walked into the shower cabin, gently placing you on the shower bench before ridding himself of his garments and turning to face you with a stupid smug expression, earning an eye roll from you. Once your pesky garments were out of the way he turned the nob to the left, holding onto the shower head to check the warmth.

“I can do this myself you know?”

San ignored your statement, only to turn around and ‘accidentally’ spray your face with the warm water, earning a squeal, “Oh- I'm sorry, must've slipped.” With that he approached you, sitting behind you, holding the shower head closer to your head for it to soak your hair and body while you stared at your hands in your lap.

“I never said you couldn’t.”

It wasn’t as if he had something out of the ordinary, but perhaps the whole dinner had been weighing down on you enough to have you sniffle at the statement and you hoped that for once he wouldn’t react to you crying, instead would let you- and you were glad he did, going about his routine.

San noticed the way your shoulders quivered, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before trailing lower as if he were trying to ease the tension in your back muscles, with the help of the warm water that cascaded down your form. Switching off the water he picked up the shampoo bottle he had conveniently placed beside him, flipping open the cap he poured a generous amount of purple liquid into his palm, picking up the rich berry scent, and making a mental note to use this next time too, it smelled better than his mint shampoo.

With gentle hands he began to lather the shampoo in your hair, applying gentle pressure on your scalp, noting how your crying had seized, only to be replaced by your shallow breathing, noticing how you were trying to calm yourself down, your silence bothering him.

“It’s getting colder, no?” he conversed, trying to distract you from all those thoughts, “You should wear more layers from now on, yeah?”

You only nodded in return, closing your eyes when he began to wash off the shampoo, wanting to ask him if you were to return the favor, as your hand blindly reached behind the for the bottle.

“Love?”

“Umm…yes?”

“For someone who said she’s not in the mood, your hand is-”

“oh-Oh, I thought that was the shampoo bottle!” you gasped pulling your hand back- honestly unsure to why you were so embarrassed, you were married to the man.

“No problem at all, sweets,” his tone was oozing with cockiness as he turned off the water once more, this time reaching for the liquid body wash, “I do understand one can confuse the two because of the similarity in sizes.” He laughed at the way you turned to glare at him only to gently turn you back, “Hold still would ya?”

With a huff you turned around facing the tiled wall, watching the condensation, as he began to gently massage your shoulders, lathering up your body with the soap, feeling him get a bit handsy, but nothing too out of control, at this point you knew he was doing it to distract you. You wondered if you hadn’t stepped on his foot under the table tonight, what would he have said? Would he have defended you? Well, indeed he would have, but what would he have said? He was usually very composed, very calm and careful with his words.

Perhaps he would have politely said something to defuse the situation, or perhaps he would have lost his temper- in either situation, one thing was sure, you were glad you signalled him to be quiet. For if there was one thing you knew, it was that at the end of the day, you were taught that the eldest is to be patient, all bearing and understanding, even when the younger one is wrong- and you had been meeting that bar of expectation for all your life, perhaps because that’s how you were trained to be or to be more exact, you just were not a fan of chaos and useless banter. Though a part of you did wish, that either parent would have tried to handle the situation better, rather than dragging you down because of the whole ‘we expected better from you’ and instead understood when you confronted your sibling about the comment,

“Why? Didn’t you say you didn’t want kids?”

The statement had caught you off guard, the whole conversation was pointless anyway, the topic of children was between your husband and you, and why was it weird if you had changed your views from what they were at the age of fifteen. So, like any sane person, you snapped back with, “Why do you think I owe you an explanation?”

Apparently, that was wrong, and had let loose a whirlwind of emotions within you, especially when your parents began to talk about how it is natural to want kids, but as a family, they do have the right to know how your views changed or rather- your sibling, the sibling you were supposed to parent once they were gone. This followed the whole 'how you were supposed to be the bigger person', even when you argued back saying your sibling never needed to bring up such an old conversation in front of your husband, embarrassing you in front of him- of course, you didn’t tell him this? Why would you? Your views had changed and one day you did plan on starting a family with your husband-

“You need to calm down.”

His warm chest pressed against your back, slowly pulling you back into a hug, arms wrapping around you frame as he placed his chin on your shoulder, tilting to place a tender kiss on your cheek, before pressing his wet cheek against yours, “Thanks for stopping me back then, I know my expressions were scary enough, if I had said something else…” his words trailed off as he squeezed you closer, mumbling against your cheek before pulling away, “I don’t think I can choose my words wisely at the sight of my wife in tears.”

With the weight of those words weighing down on you, you found yourself being wrapped in a fluffy towel and walked out of the washroom, being seated on the bed when he had scurried towards the cupboard, pulling out his hoodie and running back with it, “Arms up!” and as if wired to the command you raised your hands giggling when in one quick motion you felt the soft cotton, the familiar scent enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him saunter back into the washroom with the towel hanging low on his hips, only for him to swiftly turn around with a serious look in his eyes, “You were right, the mushrooms did do me dirty.”

You took a moment to process what he said before sighing in defeat, shaking your head at the duality of your husband, so serious one moment and completely aloof the next. Nonetheless, one thing was sure, you really depended on him, perhaps he really was the only being keeping you sane. Perhaps tomorrow you’d talk to him about starting a family, and, tomorrow you’d tell him why you didn’t want kids at the age of fifteen- though you may censor the part where you for a very long time thought that like male seahorses, men give birth, and at fifteen when you found out that was not the case, your plans of having eleven children to raise your own football team quickly washed away- yeah, it was best to censor that part, one clown is enough in a relationship, no need to create a circus.

By the time San was done with cleaning and showering he had come out to find you sleeping peacefully, snuggled up on his side, much to his pleasure. Lifting the blankets he slipped into bed, laying on your side of the bed, sighing at the scent of your shampoo wafting off your pillow, he should do this more often. He wanted to know more about the whole secret that was spilt today, you had never mentioned this to him before, in fact, you seemed ever ready to start a family with him, so he wondered if he was in any sense forcing you to do so- for if there was one thing that mattered to him most, it was your happiness, so yes, if you felt just the two of you completed your family he'd be fine with that- perhaps encourage you to get a cat at max.

A part of him wanted to ask you about the expectations your parents had when it came to your role as an older child and their occasional unfair treatment- though he knew you’d brush it off, too scared of rejection to bring it up at the moment, perhaps one day he’d take a stand for you, one that he’d carefully curate, with wise words and logical reasoning- or you’d end up blowing up and handling it yourself before he could, but that was a worry of another day.

Slowly pulling you closer, he held his breath when you changed positions, afraid that he had woken you up, only to sigh in relief when you snored in bliss, only to turn and bury your face in his chest, an arm draping around his waist. A smile stretched across his face, giddy like a teenage boy who had finally confessed to his crush, openly welcoming this intimacy, as he squeezed you against him, tangling his limbs with yours before closing his eyes to waltz with you on the sprung floor of the ballroom in your dreams.

Though when he had almost succumbed to sleep his eyes snapped open, jerking himself awake at the horrid thought he just had, glancing down at you, unsure if he should wake you up, for it was a grave mistake, one that broke the chain of process of showering-

“I forgot to condition her hair.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[faithshouseofchaos]

Franco x driver reader- She is a rookie who started before him and the others on the grid are protective of her since she has no one with her (her family never goes to see her or supports her). They start talking and the other drivers act like older brothers.

A/n— Hi 👋 @alex-wotton I went with the last one because it really stood out to me because I realized last night that if I was a f1 driver traveling to races would be pretty lonely as my mom has lupus and is in pain all the time and my siblings are still in school while my dad works out on the road. I will also be doing the others to.

Oh one more thing this is just a little look into the big fic around this request I’ll be doing later… depending on how well this does.

"They mean well" — Franco Colapinto x fem! rookie diver! Reader

Fluff slightly angsty

Word count—1122

Summary — Franco befriend's the female Alpine rookie the only problem is that he now has to deal with her guard dogs.

The first few weeks on the grid were a whirlwind, especially since you were a rookie in a sport where every second counts, and every move you make is scrutinized. It was hard, almost overwhelming, and though you knew the other drivers were competitive, you quickly realized that there was a quieter, more supportive side to them. You couldn’t deny how much it helped to have the older drivers looking out for you.

Lando had taken to teasing you right away. His cheeky humor and constant lighthearted comments were always enough to make you laugh, even on the toughest days. “You’re doing better than most of the vets, you know,” he’d say after a particularly good lap, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Next time, you’ll have to give me some pointers!”

Max, who often seemed aloof to others, was surprisingly attentive. He noticed when you were on your own, after long days when you would simply wander the paddock, minding your own business. Without a word, he would sidle up next to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and talk about the most mundane things—anything to take your mind off the pressure. “Have you ever tried the coffee from the new stand near the paddock? Best one in town,” he’d comment, knowing full well it was an excuse to pull you into a conversation that wasn’t about racing for once.

Charles, ever the older brother type, was the one who would make sure you didn’t slip into your head too much. He could tell when the weight of everything was starting to build up on your shoulders. “Hey,” he’d say, voice gentle but firm. “You’re doing fine. Don’t let the stress get to you. You have a team behind you.”

And then there was Franco. He was quieter than the others, but his presence was undeniable. He’d only just joined the grid, and the others were quick to embrace him, but it was clear that his personality was different—calmer, more reserved. You found that, over time, you felt a quiet connection with him. It wasn’t an in-your-face, loud support, but a steady, reassuring presence.

One evening, after another intense qualifying session, you found yourself walking alone by the garages, replaying every corner of the track in your head. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, but you didn’t want to be a burden to the others, so you walked it off in silence. Franco noticed you from across the paddock and, with a knowing look, excused himself from a conversation he was having with Lando.

When he reached you, there was no fanfare, just a casual ease that made you relax almost immediately.

“Hey, everything okay?” Franco asked, his voice soft yet direct.

You smiled, a little weary, but grateful. “Just thinking about the session. Could’ve done better.”

He shook his head, his lips curling into a small smile. “You did fine. We all have those moments, don’t overthink it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Being the rookie and feeling like you’re always falling short.”

Franco tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before replying. “I get it. I’m still the new guy here too, remember? But honestly, the others are looking out for you. They’ve got your back.”

The way he said it was simple, but there was a sincerity behind it that made something inside you relax. Franco wasn’t offering empty words—he meant it.

And it wasn’t just him. The next time you walked into the paddock and bumped into Max, he clapped you on the shoulder with a grin. “You looked a bit off yesterday. If you need a break, you know where to find me.”

Lando, catching wind of the exchange, chimed in from a few feet away. “Yeah, don’t make us have to drag you into our fun. We’re here for more than just the racing.”

The protectiveness came in waves. Sometimes it was subtle—Charles, pulling you aside to offer advice on staying focused during the race, or Lando, joking around to make you laugh when the stress of the weekend was beginning to get to you. But sometimes, it was a little more overt.

The first time you really felt the weight of their protectiveness was after a particularly tough race, where you finished outside the points. The media was relentless, questions flying about whether you were cut out for the sport, and you could feel the eyes of the paddock on you.

As you were heading back to your garage, head down, trying to shut out the noise, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Max.

“You don’t let them get to you,” he said quietly, looking you in the eyes. “It’s one race. And you’ll get them next time.”

Before you could respond, Lando appeared, his usual grin plastered across his face. “Max is right, of course. And if they keep giving you trouble, just let me know. I’m pretty good at handling the media.”

Charles joined them, his voice more serious than usual. “We’ve all been there. Don’t let them make you doubt yourself. We’re all in this together.”

That was when it hit you—this wasn’t just about the competition on the track. They truly cared about you, and despite the pressures of racing, they weren’t about to let you face it alone.

Franco appeared just as they were finishing up, walking over to the group with a quiet smile. “Everyone’s right,” he added, offering a knowing look. “And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always around. No need to fight your battles alone.”

From that moment on, you felt the weight of their protectiveness more than ever. It wasn’t just about them looking out for a rookie; it was about them making sure you knew that no matter what happened, you weren’t alone on the grid.

The bond between you and Franco deepened as the weeks went on. In between races, the two of you shared quiet conversations in the back of the garage, or while waiting for your cars to be prepped. You spoke about everything—racing, family, the weird quirks of the Formula 1 lifestyle, and even the things you’d been avoiding thinking about. Franco’s steady support and dry humor became something you could rely on, and the way he listened without judgment made him one of the few you truly felt comfortable with.

In a world that often felt like a competition to survive, you finally understood: you had people here, and they weren’t just teammates or rivals—they were your family.

And Franco, despite being new to the grid himself, was starting to feel more like a brother than just a teammate.

[felassan]

I received a few asks around a similar topic, so I'm popping them together here. ( ´ ▽ ` ) DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[the Felassan Files]

hello! ◕‿◕ thank you for the lovely and fun ask messages!!

lavendervoids asked: "i’ve been dying to know what ur reaction was to seeing felassan in the game was???? the moment i saw him i was yelling and hollering and my first thought was “omg what does tumblr user felassan think of this” LMAO and thank you for all the documenting you’ve been doing up until and past the release of the game, i ended up blocking every dragon age tag a couple months back to avoid any sort of spoilers but i still came to your blog everyday cause i knew you wouldn’t spoil me haha"

hhhh ( ´ ▽ ` ) tysm for thinking of me at that time!! and for the nice comment about this blog and visiting it. I'm really glad to know that my approach to spoiler tagging etc has been okay for you.

littlerune asked: "i don't even know you but you and dragon age felassan are so intrinsically linked in my brain that when he appeared in veilguard all i thought was "ohhhh i wonder how tumblr user felassan feels about this"

hhhh :D 🥺 thankyou so much for thinking of me!! ♡ some say that his ghost operates this tumblr blog, or that he lives still

songofamazon asked: "I'm still on my first play of the game, but whenever I got to the memories in the Crossroads, I thought to myself, "I hope Tumblr Felassan is having a great time. Did you?"

I had a great time playing the game and when playing the Crossroads memories sections, I loved them a lot, they were very cool and a highlight of the game. thankyou sm and for thinking of me, and I hope that you did too!!

phantabula-interactive asked: "im so glad you're enjoying the game!! I had to ask; how did you feel about seeing Felassan in game?? I was so excited to see the notes from him, I wasn't expecting a boss fight MUCH LESS. FULL CAMEO!!! They made him a lot prettier than I was expecting too (/pos)"

thankyou!! I hope that you've been enjoying it too!

so: I was sooo excited and shook to see Felassan in the game!!! I was like

(I yelped/hooted out loud like a clown) and then

and then it was suddenly like too much (pos) and my soul left my body and i astral projected into space/paradise/the Astral Plane/the Void or something etc

and then it took me some time to process or gather my thoughts about it.

obviously I was super hoping that we would see him in the game. I was sure that there would at least be some references to him in codexes/notes etc or allusions made in passing dialogue like Cole and Solas' lines about him in Trespasser. then when the marketing mentioned that we would see flashbacks from Solas' past in the Crossroads, I was like aaa omg, wouldn't that be the perfect time to actually show Felassan??, as a Fade memory or flashback or spirit echo or something. so then I was hoping like 🕯️🕯️🕯️ and yea. but even so, still when I saw him in game for the first time it was still a huge shocked Pikachu moment for me.

I was already feeling psyched from the first Felassan codex/note that I found, then I couldn't believe (pos) just how many codexes/notes scattered around written by him that there was?? I was already feeling spoiled (not spoiled by spoilers but like spoiled from eating good) from that (a bunch of codexes/notes might not seem like a lot but when your fav is a side character that has only appeared in one [1] tie-in novel..) and then he goes and actually APPEARS, AAAA. I feel like I ate so good. with the Betrayal fight and the rune at the end as well, it felt like he was threaded throughout the game and was really haunting the narrative. some assorted thoughts:

first of all everything about his DA:TV appearances/DA:TV references continues to underscore that he is the greatest of all time

it also continues to underscore the pain of his death/story and of his friendship with Solas

may I please go and start a new life living in Solas' memories of Felassan on repeat. i simply do not care that my body would waste away in the waking world from lack of sustenance

in the endgame I was trying to concentrate and punch Elgar'nan in the face and save the world but I like couldn't see straight through the tears after having been given Felassan's Magical Boyfriend Super Rune (morrigan pls.. what a way to twist the KNIFE at an extremely critical moment for thedas hhhh..)

expansion pack where we relive Solas' memories of him and Felassan dating (he didn't deserve Felassan tho fr. but then, does anyone..?)

I know that Felassan would treat Lavellan sooooo right. so well. so respectfully. felassan would pull their chair out for them at restaurants and open car doors and whatever

Betrayal of Felassan refers to Solas' betrayal of Felassan, not Felassan's betrayal of Solas

also i love how they made him DEVASTATINGLY handsome?? in the game (they didnt need to go that hard), but also how, at the same time - even before the TME Deluxe edition illustrations, we all just inherently knew deep in our bones that he was, you could simply just tell from his energy and vibes and dialogue even in only the written word. cool rolls off this guy in waves, and always has done

did his model have smoky winged eye makeup? love that. love that for him

I liked his sense of style. the hair his model has happened to be one of the ones I was debating using for my Rook. it's one of my fav ones from the CC

I appreciated the attention they paid to detail when making his model. Mythal vallaslin, violet/purple eyes, an undercut - as he was previously described or shown in TME, dev social media comments and the TME deluxe illustrations

I liked the actor they chose for him, his voice was cool

I felt like his codexes and notes that he wrote captured his voice and his character. you can see the depth of his loyalty and devotion to his friend, his concerns, and he retains his 'voice' in terms of some snark, wit etc

it's fun thinking about whether Felassan originally manifested from the Fade (and if so, what was he a spirit of) or whether he was born the usual way of other elves. (it could be either one)

Betrayal of Felassan as a manifested embodied regret and its lines like "his back, turned".. very raw. that fight was hard enough mechanically for me as it was, then the lines were like being hamstrung LOL. how could they??? (pos/lh)

I always thought that, a long time ago, Solas was essentially the player character in a different game, the main character of another story. the leader of his own group of companions and friends on their own quest (to stop the Evanuris), and that Felassan was one of those companions. Alistair to his Hero of Ferelden if you will. in DA:TV we learn that not only was he one of his companions, he was basically the second-in-command of his rebellion, a General, his closest friend aside from Mythal and his right-hand man.

he was so cool back in his heyday

pain. paaaaain. but like in a good way (I unironically love to be hurt by stories pls continue 💀...)

there are a few further posts containing more bits of my reaction and thoughts scattered through my Felassan tag. ^^

There were also a few other asks about this in my inbox, but Tumblr appears to have eaten them?? :< so if you've asked me about Felassan and my reaction since launch but the message isn't in this post, thankyou sm and I'm very sorry. 😔 pls feel free to re-send it. :)

I do remember that one of the vanished messages asked me what the Slaughter of the Pillars boss regret refers to - the Pillars of the Earth are the Titans. ("Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!") That undead boss embodies another of Solas' greatest regrets, namely what he and Mythal did to the Titans during the war with them - sundering every Titan from their spirit, severing them from their dreams, which resulted in the Blight as the dreams were driven mad. it also in a sense broke the dwarves in two and caused the fall of the fate of the dwarven people. Beyond the mural-memory that pertains to this in DA:TV, there are depictions of this time in the ancient past in the DA:TV artbook: [one, two]. Annotations there describe Solas rendering the Titans tranquil and capturing their souls; dwarves as a consequence then losing their connection to magic and fleeing into the now-Tranquil earth; and the Evanuris then building Elvhenan using the power of the captured Titan souls.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours: it's so easy to bite with your hands pinned (2/16)

Summary:

After fantasizing about it, Rosalind can't stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ancunín. Maybe Shadowheart is right, maybe she should just do it to get it out of her system.

Pairing: Astarion/named f!Tav Rating: explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter tags/warnings: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v intercourse, blood/blood drinking, creampie/no breeding (full list on ao3)

Yayyyyyy chapter 2! I've been absolutely going through it personally, but your comments and kind words have brought me such joy. My goal will continue to be to upload Sunday/Monday so if I miss a day, I give you full permission to yell at me. (But please be nice, I'm very sensitive.)

Read it on AO3. ~ Masterlist (coming soon.) ~ Office Hours playlist on Spotify.

“Shadowheart, I think I fucked up.”

Rosalind picks at the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup as Shadowheart grabs her latte from the counter. Her best friend’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she fixes Rosalind with a cautious look. They had met six years ago while moving into adjacent apartments. Shadowheart was already working at BGU in the Divinity School, and a few years back she helped Rosalind get an interview with Volo in the theatre department.

“Do I need to kill someone or help you bury the body?” she says with a sly smile, and Rosalind groans, almost too ashamed to admit it. She has complained far too much about Ancunín for what happened last night not to be exceedingly embarrassing.

“No, not that,” she begins, then takes a sip of coffee to brace herself. “You know that snotty Renaissance Lit professor I’ve mentioned?” They tap their phones on the turnstile censor and file through one at a time.

“Yeah, the one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart looks over her shoulder as she asks the question, and she’s treated to Rosalind’s dramatic eye roll.

“I’m not always going on about him,” she grumbles, and Shadowheart’s laugh reverberates off the metro walls.

“You absolutely are, but continue,” she smirks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Okay well let me at least show you what he looks like before I lose service,” Rosalind preemptively defends herself, pulling out her phone and searching for the BGU English department faculty page. She scrolls down to Ancunín’s portrait and turns the screen towards Shadowheart.

It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. Suddenly she gasps and looks at her friend with wide eyes. “Rosalind, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t!” Rosalind shouts, perfectly scandalized. Then, in a much lower voice that ultimately gets drowned out by the roar of a train flying by, she says, “I just thought about it.”

“What?” Shadowheart shouts, pulling her scarf in a little closer to protect herself from the wind cast off by the train.

“I just thought about it!” Rosalind shouts back, wishing she had just waited to speak.

“Thought about what?”

“Fucking him!” Of course, she shouts this last bit just as the train has fully passed, which means everyone else waiting on the platform hears her clear as day. Rosalind hides her flushed face behind her cup, praying that no one from the school is also taking the metro today.

“And?” Shadowheart looks at Rosalind expectantly.

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Rosalind scoffs and looks down the tunnel at the train’s headlights in the distance in order to avoid answering her question for a second longer. “I mean, it was my imagination, so like good I guess?”

“Well sure, but would you want to do it in real life?” As Shadowheart answers, the train comes to a screeching stop and the two of them board, snagging a two-seater as far away from both entrances as possible. Shadowheart pinches her knees together and places her bag delicately on her lap.

Rosalind sighs heavily before answering. “Man, I dunno. I’ve never really been into the idea of hate sex, at least not since Aradin.”

Shadowheart makes a face of abject disgust. “He doesn’t even know how lucky he is that I’ve never been in the same room as him.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more appreciative of having someone so eager to commit murder for me,” Rosalind laughs, putting her hand on Shadowheart’s knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Rosalind looks out the window at the other platforms whizzing by. 

“I think you should go for it,” Shadowheart says suddenly, and Rosalind chokes on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” she coughs as she wipes her mouth.

“What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you can just go back to hating him like before, and at least then you won’t need to wonder anymore,” Shadowheart says matter-of-factly. She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described the literal nightmare scenario.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” Rosalind gapes at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” Shadowheart flashes a coffee-stained grin and Rosalind pushes her face away.

“Maybe not, he could be terrible for all we know,” she replies smugly as the train slides into the University stop. They funnel out with the hoard of students and other professors who also get out onto the platform. “Man, Shade, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” Rosalind teases her as they trash their empty coffee cups.

“Listen, you’re closer to getting some than I’ve been in months, it’s not that good out here for most of us,” she groans.

“Hey, if I end up getting lucky, maybe he’s got some pretty colleague he can hook you up with,” Rosalind says with a shit-eating grin and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

Rosalind and Shadowheart split ways in front of the student union, each of them heading to their respective sides of campus. Rosalind goes directly to her office and immediately closes the door — usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary today. She can’t look at his face right now. She can’t possibly look him in the eye.

She spends the majority of the day locked in her office, double checking the hallway before leaving to teach Voice and Speech. She even avoids the main office for fear of running into him there. 

When 5:00 rolls around, she takes a peek outside her door to see most of the other professors leaving. To play it safe, she decides to work until six so she can be absolutely sure he’s gone by the time she leaves. She passes the time by absentmindedly grading weekly reflections. It’s only when she realizes that she’s read one paragraph about Miss Julie about a half dozen times, she figures it’s time to leave.

She pokes her head into the hallway, but can’t tell from this angle whether or not his door is closed. She grabs her bag and coat, takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the stairs. It’s only when she approaches his office door that she realizes it’s open. 

Fuck.

It’s fine. She can just walk past it and get to the stairs and then she won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice her walk by. It’s fine. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears nonetheless.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as Rosalind passes his door. Are you fucking kidding me? She turns to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even bother looking up at her. Prick.

“Yes?” she asks coldly, not budging from her spot in the hall. He glances up and looks at her over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. Rosalind wants to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

Rosalind takes a tentative step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s somehow warm and inviting. She can barely see the walls from being covered corner to corner in overfull bookshelves. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room — significantly nicer than the university-issued ones. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it, honestly. Two chairs face his desk, but they’re covered in a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave like the ones in Rosalind’s office. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea. 

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. Rosalind stands still, clutching her bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes she’s not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. She can feel the heat in her cheeks rising. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels her to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk. He leans casually on the edge of it, facing her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Rosalind watches him carefully, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Rosalind blinks at him, the conversation immediately not going in the direction she expected. She still feels so much shame about last night that it takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

He sees the gears turning in her brain and decides to continue. “It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leans back on his hands, stretching out his lithe figure to impossible proportions. Rosalind’s grip on her bag slackens and she can’t help but drag her gaze over the length of his body. He looks back at her quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses. Now it’s his turn to give the once-over, and Rosalind feels practically naked before him with the way he leers at her. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward her, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. She retreats while holding his gaze until her back is flush against the door. 

No escape now.

He gets precariously close and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s at least a half foot taller than Rosalind, and he looks down on her with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in her face has fully reached the tips of her ears now, and her breath comes out ragged. 

“I’m sure I—” she begins, but it comes out thick and raspy. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” she finally manages with all of the composure she can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t drastically increased in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into her. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter escapes Rosalind as she presses her thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let her respond. 

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my piece and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. He’s giving me an out, she realizes. He’s saying that we can both laugh at this as an embarrassing moment and never bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand… Rosalind thinks back on her conversation with Shadowheart and swallows thickly.

“You’re not mistaken,” she manages to choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts her chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command makes Rosalind’s knees go weak and she withers under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” she says more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time she notices two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains why he could track Rosalind’s heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating. 

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing her roughly, hands twisting in her hair and one knee sliding up between her legs. He pushes her against the door, lifting her up onto her toes. She’s desperate just to keep up as he devours her, her hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment she lets him take her.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away as they both breathe heavily, air cycling between their lungs. Rosalind’s head is full of a thick fog and she can’t see straight. His hands are still in her hair, tight but not pulling — yet. Why do I get the sense that might not last long?

He drops to his knees and she nearly doubles over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of her black denim skirt, inhaling again. Her fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from her fantasy. At this point she’s just trying not to collapse. 

He looks up at her, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up her skirt and his thumb runs across her pussy, barricaded by sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” She bites her lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of her tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, she can’t stop the cry from escaping her throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in her ears. Her knees buckle and he grabs hold of her hips, hiking up her skirt to get better access to her dripping cunt. He presses a finger past her panties and slips it into her, and she gasps at the stark temperature difference. 

“Gods, fuck,” she groans under her breath, and she runs a hand through her hair as her head drops back against the door. He presses his nose into the flesh of her lower belly, licking and kissing it as he slides in a second finger into her. She can feel her legs beginning to shake as he pumps into her, stretching her out. She grasps the handle of the door trying to brace herself on something. When her hips begin to subconsciously roll against his hand, he yanks his fingers out and she whines at the sudden emptiness. 

“Someone’s needy,” he sings as he stands before sucking her arousal off his fingers. He pulls her into another searing kiss and the taste of her lingers on his lips. He grabs her ass and digs his fingers into her flesh, spreading her cheeks until she gasps into the kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up her legs and wraps them around his waist. She yelps in surprise; he’s significantly stronger than he looks.

He carries her over to that incredible mahogany desk, plopping her down on the hardwood and sending books and papers tumbling to the floor. He presses his bulge into her mound, this time the sound of both of their groans mingling pleasingly. He tears at her chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down her chest as she throws her head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing her top, though she’s certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. She can hardly bring herself to care as she paws wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of her. He pulls down the lace cup of her bra with his teeth and starts sucking on her nipple, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She arches into him, his hands working her like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that she pictured last night. Instead, Rosalind has been reduced to shambles, begging for his satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” she stutters, and those devilish eyes lock onto hers again. He snakes his way back up her chest and bites her lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks her stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against her. She squirms, trying to pull him closer but he’s got her arms locked in his grip. His lips leave hers and ghost over the flesh of her neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across her jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from her in return. By all the gods, Rosalind hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement makes it clear that he won’t bite unless she wants him to.

But holy hells does she want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” she gasps, and she’s almost certain she can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get inside me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to her, but she’s well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves her panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into her simultaneously, drawing out her cry of both pain and pleasure. She wraps her legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. She feels his mouth filling up with hot blood just as her cunt fills up with his dick. 

His pumps are slow, taking his time as he swallows gulps of her blood. The obscene slurping noise mixed with his heavy breathing and occasional grunts that tickle her ear send her reeling. She’s always had a sensitive neck and more than enjoys the occasional hickey. But this is a whole new level of pain mixed with pleasure. His lips grow warm with her blood and she bucks against him, her whines getting swallowed by his curls. Her hands cup his ears, and she’s unable to stop herself from playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from her neck, looking absolutely feral with her blood dripping down his chin, which only sets her off more. 

“Please, I-I need more,” she whimpers breathlessly, angling her hips towards him and trying to get him to thrust faster.

“You eager little thing,” he growls, and the animalistic sound pulls another desperate whine from deep within her. He pushes her back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath her knee high boots, pressing her thighs against her chest. He begins to pound into her properly, sending her hurtling towards climax. She grabs onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching her out as he keeps her feet up by his shoulders. The heat begins to mount in her core and she knows it won’t be long before she comes. But at this point she’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m—” She finishes before her sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks her body, if anything, he fucks into her harder. Just as she’s barely come down from her climax, he pulls out and yanks her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from her back. He pushes her skirt up to her hips and grabs a hold of her ass, his nails digging into the part of the tights still in-tact. He slides into her again with a groan, and already she can tell that she’s working her way up to a second one. Her bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs her hair, pulling her head up and arching her back into him. 

She desperately wishes that she could see his face because she can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. She tries to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on her hair remains tight. But even if she can’t see him, she can still hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in her is enough, and her own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism. 

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and she can feel his climax, setting off a second for her. The throbbing of his cock matches that in her cunt, and she holds onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over her. Once the ripples have settled he pulls out, and she can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down her leg. She silently says a thankful prayer for her IUD.

They’re both panting as he collapses onto her back, planting a half-hearted kiss on her spine. She weakly pushes herself up off the desk and sees the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. She turns around to relish in his appearance. Her blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. She reaches up and wipes the remainder of her blood off his chin. He smirks and gives her a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

“That was good,” she murmurs through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[nerdee-blondee]

i haven't stopped thinking about this deleted raunchy scene with lucanis ever since i saw it ☠️

if i was a fanfic writer i would be BUSTING out a one shot but ALAS i am not SO here i will give you my description on how this scene would go with my rook Valeria ✨

the premise is, my LOF valeria will be traveling to tevinter and isabela gives her a little side mission since she's in the area to find a relic that is submerged in water. (this will also take place after the almost-kiss scene in the pantry so valeria and lucanis are a WEE BIT awkward atm)

(WE ARE ALSO retconning that at least my rook can't swim. there is NO WAY IN HELL that my PIRATE LORD OF FORTUNE rook can't swim.)

SO valeria will bring lucanis and neve on this excursion. but neve will have gotten a lead on a tip and have to leave this outing to head for dock town, so it just leaves lucanis and valeria.

they get to this place where the information they have to go off says it is and see it's a beautiful little oasis area. and valeria starts to strip off her armor so she can swim down and grab the relic. lucanis, who is DESPERATELY trying not to stare at her undressing form, makes a snide comment about "not being able to swim" and valeria will get defensive like "I'LL HAVE U KNOW i most definitely CAN swim but you try swimming with all that armor and gold that i wear" "well maybe all that armor and gold is a restriction in battle?" "YOU try being a treasure seeking pirate WITHOUT all the gold"

and the tension from their previous NOT kiss will dissipate. than valeria will be like "this would go a lot faster if you came in and helped me find the damn thing". and so lucanis, after a beat, would start stripping down as well and both would go into the crisp clear waters. fully focused on finding this relic, they are all business for a time. until eventually they find it and all is well and good with their side mission. until lucanis gets out and looks back to valeria and asks "are you getting out?". as valeria is now floating in the waters says "have you ever dreamed about being a fish?" and this would stir a whole conversation about valeria's childhood as lucanis takes a seat on the edge of the water to listen.

"i miss when my life was simple and all i had to worry about was why i couldn't be a fish and be able to swim in the seas forever. not have to constantly worry about 2 ancient elven gods and the whole state of the world crumbling around me..." after this moment of vulnerability valeria would sit up and, like the little shit she is, send water careening over at him. and lucanis, now wet again, shakes his head and jumps in to splash her himself. and they have a really nice "battle" where valeria will use some magic to accurately get him in the face. and then lucanis will dive under water to grab her ankles and pull her under the water's surface. after this they would both remerge and laugh in a way that haven't been able to since all of this god-hunting started. their laughter dies down as they are just looking at each other and then they both realize they are a little too close. and they have too little clothes on. both of them just look at each other. not wanting to break whatever is happening in this moment between them. then very slowly, not wanting to scare him off, valeria goes to reach for a stray piece of hair that is stuck on lucanis' forehead. she wipes it away and slowly brings that hand to cup his cheek. he full on melts into her touch as both of their breathing seems to pick up a little. he opens his eyes that he didn't realize he closed and looks into her eyes and sees deep in her eyes that same desire from back in the pantry. and this time, he cannot find it in himself to ignore it.

he surges forward and kisses her. their first kiss. it's literally wet. and kind of clumsy as first kisses go. a small squeak leaves valeria's mouth as it happens and now, she finds herself melting into his brief touch. the kiss is over as quickly as it began. and they are both staring at each other and panting as if they had just run a marathon. they again stare into each other's eyes and both notice that the other's irises are being swallowed up by their pupils. one kiss has set both of them off. neither of them knows who started this next round of kisses but they know they neither of them want to stop. they are hungrily grabbing at each other and their lips don't leave each other. as if the others lips have all the answers to all the questions in the universe. her hands are caressing his beard and his face while his one hand is rooted at the base of her neck and in her hair while the other has a death grip on her hip.

than after a few of the best minutes of just savoring each other's kisses, lucanis brings his lips to all over her face. a kiss on the nose. on the forehead. on both cheeks. on the corners of her mouth. all, he hopes, conveys his apologies to not being able to show his love attraction for her sooner. and, as if she understood this sentiment, valeria gently places her hand on the back of his head while he indulges. as he feels her hand on the back of his head he groans and brings his lips down to her neck. when he gets to her neck, she lets out a gasp. she already has a sensitive neck but his beard there makes her squirm in the most delicious way. after hearing her gasp, he lets out another groan that turns more into a growl and he starts to lavish her neck with his tongue and small bites....

AAAAND THAT'S WHERE WE GET THE CUT IMAGE. after finishing typing ALL THAT i realized i basically wrote a fanfic LOLOL. but YEA this is how my valeria and lucanis would have their first kiss and almost immediately fuck but they are able to restrain themselves.

their FIRST TIME would probably be right after murder of crows, and after the deleted gondola scene! WE ARE DESCREATING VILA DELAMORTE BABY 😏😏

[boschfemme]

Liberals being obsessed with clap back culture as praxis is so rotten

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[kamitv]

Suguru walking in on you pleasing yourself would probably go something like…

“Well, shit. Didn’t know I had such a slut for a wife,” He’d comment mere seconds after walking in on you.

You’d be laying on your stomach, back arched, knees bent, legs spread, and a hand in between your legs as you fuck a rather lengthy dildo into your sloppy cunt. Your husband, who you weren’t expecting to be home so soon, seems anything but surprised to catch you like this.

If anything, Geto barely tilts his head as he approaches the bed and then cracks a smirk, “Look at this pussy… fuuck, she’s drippin’ all over the place. All because of some stupid toy?” As he makes his comments, he’s unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side.

“Suguu… S’not ‘cause of the toy,” You huff out with a pout, shamelessly staring at your husband as you continue pleasing yourself. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? Y’Missed me baby?” He’d tease, not even bothering to take his shirt off as he can’t help but reach forward and swat your hand away from the toy stuffed inches inside your cunt. He’d purposefully drag the item out of you, listening to that filthy squelch before brining it to his mouth and licking your taste off. “Mmh. Couldn’t even wait f’me, huh? Were you missin’ me or my cock, princess?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wiggle your hips back a bit, begging for him to give you something-, anything, “Both Suguru.”

“Needy ass girl,” He’d scoff in response.

He’s actually rather kind when he catches you pleasing yourself. Which is how and why you ended up with his cock inside you not too long after he’s come home.

Geto doesn’t really like knowing you were getting off without him but at the same time, something about coming home to you whining his name as you imagined he was fucking you instead of some toy kinda turned him on. He wondered how often you did this kinda thing.

And so he decides to ask you while he’s stuffing your cunt full of his thick cock, “You fantasize about me often, baby?” He hushes out to you, staring so deep into your eyes that it makes you feel embarrassed all over. His tone is so soft and loving with you too that it just makes you shudder beneath him as if he’s not fucking you at such a merciless pace right mow.

All you can do is nod as your jaw hangs open, “Uhuh… mmgh, I-, hah, think about you a-ah, all the t-time, Sugu.” Your words come out in between moans but that only fuels his arousal.

The way his lips curve into that knowing little smirk has your nails scraping against his back before he lets out a low hiss. “Fuck. You imagine my cock’s inside you when m’not even here?” Geto asks rhetorically before shifting his hips and hitting that one mushy spot inside you, “You replay our moments together, huh? Maybe we should record it one time so you have somethin’ better to get off to.”

Your legs squeeze around his waist and he notices your back arching up off of the bed. Geto thrusts in harder and faster, eager to watch your face twist up the same way it was moments ago before he’d caught you— he’d never let you feel that euphoric sensation more with some toy instead of his cock. Not that he’s jealous, of course…

“S-Sugu,” You choke out with how rough his hips grow against yours.

His head tips down into the crook of your neck and you can feel his fat cockhead knocking deeper and deeper into your sopping walls as his strokes become more calculated-, passionate almost. “Mhm, I know baby, I know,” He coos against your skin, his breath hot and tone almost hoarse, “M’right here,” God, his gentleness was a complete contrast to those mean hips of his.

Even the way his hands traced along your arms in search of your hand to grab had you so utterly weak.

“Y’missed this right?” Geto whispers hotly as he shifts his lips up to the crown of your ear, “Missed how I treat this pussy, huh?”

Your neck arches as you toss your head back and you feel his fingers squeeze onto one of your hands whilst he presses it down into the mattress. Moaning quiet little babbles in agreement to his soft-spoken yet lewd words, your cunt gushes around his aching cock, almost invitingly encouraging him to continue talking like that.

And who is he to ignore such encouragement? Pressing against your ear again, he starts fucking you a little slower but noticeably harder, “Agh… Missed you too, pretty girl. Hah, missed how she,” He emphasizes that word with a heavier thrust, “Takes me so fuckin’ well-, shit.”

Then he moans into your ear and you think you cum at the sound alone. So clear and provocative, echoing in your ear and making your mind go blissfully blank. “Ha-ah… ngh, Suguru, I… mmh..” You moan as his cock splits you open so deliciously.

Hell, that’s all you could do. Geto weighs his body down against you, pinning you to the mattress completely as he drags his cock almost all the way out of your twitching pussy just to give you a seconds rest. Not that it really helped as he slipped his dick right back into you, his jaw dropping and a filthy moan leaving his wet lips at the way your cunt feels so utterly soaked and warm wrapped around his cock.

Geto swears he could fuck you like this for hours and hours and hours but he’s too eager to see other things.

“Gonna have t’show me how you fuck yourself one of these days, love.” He huffs out breathlessly between thrusts.

You quickly start shaking your head at that—lost between reaching your high and processing his words, “N-No…”

“No? Oh c’mon,” He puts on this pout to mock you, “You don’t wanna show me? We’re married… I’ve shown you how I touch myself when you’re not around, why can’t you do the same, hm?”

“S’embarrassing…” You mumble with your lower lip poking out so deliciously that it makes your husband smirk.

“Aw, it’s embarrassing?” He teases, “Baby, I like it when you’re embarrassed. Plus, you looked so fuckin’ cute tryin’ to fuck yourself without me. Could’ barely take that piece of plastic ‘nd it’s smaller than my cock.”

“Sugu-“

“M’just sayin’…” He shrugs, “I want you to put on a lil’ show f’me. You can do that can’t you?” You’re shaking your head all over again and he frowns, “No? But baby,” His body presses down against you as if to emphasize his words and you could feel his tip pressing into your sweet spot, “C’mon, don’t make me beg for it.”

“I-I…” You’re left stuttering and moaning as your eyes travel to the back of your skull, “Ah, Suguru-, mgh…”

“Or would you rather me demand it, huh? Should I tell you you’re gonna show me what you were doin’ with that toy before I got here?” Geto pants into your ear, his lips brushing against your warm skin as you nod frantically in response. “Yeahhh? Alright then, gimme one more ‘nd then you’ll put on a lil’ show for me, ‘kay?”

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[hxxsxxng]

Past Wounds, Present Hearts P.SH

「Pairing」 : exbully!sunghoon x fem!reader

「Word Count」 : 10.5k

「Genre」 : smut, angst, somewhat fluff, college au

「Summary」 : you have felt resentment for sunghoon ever since the hell he put you through in middle school. now you find out he goes to your university.... and he's kinda hot?

「Warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! mentions of bullying, lower quality of life due to bullying, self doubt, mentions of drinking alcohol, implied intoxication in some scenes, college parties, sunghoon calls reader petnames, kissing, sharing a bed, nipple play, fingering, titty sucking, handjob, sunghoon turns out to be a sweetheart, cum eating, falling asleep together, and more

「Authors Note」 : i originally intended for the story to have a different ending but i changed my mind half way though and it would have been too fast paced for the word count given, i will definitely make a part two if enough people ask! not proofread

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I hate him. The smug look on his face when I walk pass him in the main campus hall. All of the girls clawing on to his shoulder, begging for his attention without knowing what fucking loser he is. The way all of the professors are so impressed with him for doing practically nothing in class. Getting a full ride scholarship for basketball to this school. I have grown sick of it.

Park Sunghoon. The name still twists my stomach after all these years. Middle school was when my hatred started for Him. He was my middle school bully. Always teasing me in front of the whole class, or making comments behind my back. What hurts the most is that he doesn’t seem to care that he used to act this way, or maybe he thinks I have forgotten. The truth is, I will never forget. It sits at the back of my mind all of the time. The people who know me from middle school still view me as this ‘disgusting’ girl who was unlikeable, because of the things that Sunghoon would do to me.

It took years for me to build myself back up, so when I saw that he was planning on going to the same university as me last fall, I was more than worried. But this wasn’t middle school anymore. I can’t let him get away with treating me like an outcast who doesn’t deserve friends.First semester of university is always scary, I was always afraid to come out my shell and meet new people. I wanted to stay on top of acedemics. My best friend Yuqi was the complete opposite. Any opportunity she got to go out and party, she would be there. And, she would surprisingly maintain decent grades as well. Now that I think about it, I have never been a party goer, not even in highschool. Then again, there weren’t too many parties that either sounded interesting, or that I was invited to.

“Kappa Alpha is having a party this Friday, you in?” Yuqi suggested. She always gets the same response. “No, you already know I can’t, we have finals next week” I shrugged. “But Kappaaaaaa!” Yuqi whined, her voice getting higher every passing second. We were walking down the hallway towards our classes. A few students looked over, but quickly decided that they didn’t want to look any further. “I hear that Kappa Alpha has the best Christmas parties every year. You have to come” Yuqi insisted, grabbing onto my arm. I rolled my eyes. “Yuqi… You don’t actually think I’m going to attend one of their parties?” Yuqi gave me a confused stare, trying to read through my expression. “Why not?” “Sunghoon is in that frat, I’m pretty sure he lives in the frat house as well. You would catch me dead before seeing me step foot into that trashy hell hole” I explained, crossing my arm defensively. She knows how he treated me in middle school, she was there to witness it.

“What? He can’t be, out of all the parties I have gone to there, I have not seen him a singular time” Yuqi said with her eyebrows furrowed, putting emphasis into each word.. I tried to tell her that yes, he is the type of guy to hide out in the frat house and not attend, but she had no idea. After some debate, she eventually gave up asking me.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me. Yuqi's words echoed in my mind, mixing with memories I'd rather forget. The Christmas lights strung across my dorm room cast a soft glow, but they did little to brighten my mood.

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow close. Why did Sunghoon have to be here, at my university, in my space? It wasn't fair. I'd worked so hard to leave that part of my life behind, to become someone new. Someone stronger.

But was I really stronger if I was still letting him dictate my choices? I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over Yuqi's contact. She was probably out somewhere, living it up like she always did. I envied her sometimes, her ability to just… exist without all this baggage.

"Maybe I should go," I whispered to the empty room. The words felt foreign on my tongue. Me? At a Kappa Alpha party? It was absurd.

I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair. Yuqi would be ecstatic if I went. And isn't that what college is supposed to be about? New experiences, stepping out of your comfort zone?

But then I imagined walking into that frat house, the pulsing music, the crowded rooms. And somewhere in there, Sunghoon. Everybody loving him not knowing the kind of cruel person he is on the inside. My stomach clenched at the thought.

"This is stupid," I muttered, flopping back onto my bed. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone."

But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I did need to prove something - to myself. That I could face my past, that I could exist in the same space as Sunghoon without falling apart.

I picked up my phone again, this time opening my messages to Yuqi. "Hey," I typed, then paused. Was I really doing this? My finger hovered over the send button as doubt crept in. But then I thought of Yuqi's excited face, of the possibility of actually enjoying myself for once.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly typed out the rest of the message and hit send. "Hey. About that Kappa Alpha party… I think I might go after all." I set my phone down, my heart racing. What had I just agreed to?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Yuqi didn’t see my message until the morning, but I can only imagine her physical reaction after reading her written one. “Really???? I never thought this day would come. I promise you will love it!!!” my screen read. Her overuse of punctuation was telling enough about she felt. It was Friday morning, meaning that the party was going to be later in tonight. If I plan my time correctly, we can leave my dorm around 8pm, and I would have had all of the studying done that at I needed to do for the night.

I couldn’t help feeling nervous at the thought of attending a party with Sunghoon, but I decided that this may be the perfect chance to get to know him better. Okay, not ‘get to know him better’ but maybe this could finally give him a chance to clear the air between us, to apologize properly for everything that he did to me. But the chances of him apologizing are slim to none. When I see him in campus he seems to be the snobby type, unable to admit that they are wrong. Trust me, I have heard the stories going around campus.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, my mind drifting between lectures and study sessions. The impending party loomed over me, a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

By the time I returned to my dorm, the sun was already setting. I sat at my desk, attempting to review my notes, but the words blurred together. My phone buzzed - another excited text from Yuqi about outfit choices. I sighed, closing my textbook. There was no point in pretending to study anymore.

~~~~~

At 7:00, a knock at my door announced Yuqi's arrival. She entered with her usual whirlwind energy, arms full of clothes and makeup. "Okay," she said, dumping everything onto my bed. "Let's make you look amazing."

I eyed the pile warily. "Yuqi, I'm not trying to impress anyone. Especially not Sunghoon." She paused, giving me a soft look. "This isn't about him. It's about you feeling good about yourself. Now, let's start with this sweater."

For the next half hour, we sifted through outfits. Yuqi was patient, letting me veto anything too revealing or flashy. We finally settled on a soft, cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans - comfortable, but still party-appropriate.

As I changed, Yuqi chatted about her day, her excitement for the party. Her casual banter helped ease my nerves, reminding me why I'd agreed to this in the first place. This was about spending time with my best friend, not about Sunghoon.

We left my dorm at 8:15, the cool night air a welcome relief for my flushed cheeks. The walk to the frat house was short, but with each step, the butterflies in my stomach intensified. Music pulsed in the distance, growing louder as we approached.

Outside the house, we paused. Yuqi squeezed my hand. "You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We stepped inside, and I was immediately overwhelmed. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies in too small a space. Yuqi leaned close, "I'm going to get us some drinks. Will you be okay for a minute?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As she disappeared into the crowd, I stood there, taking in my surroundings. Groups of people clustered around, laughing and dancing. I recognized a few faces from classes, but no one I knew well.

And then, across the room, I saw him. Sunghoon, leaning against a wall, surrounded by his usual admirers. He was laughing at something someone said, his head thrown back. For a moment, I was transported back to middle school, hearing that laugh directed at me, mocking and cruel.

Our eyes met for a brief second, and I swear I saw something flicker in his expression. Surprise? Recognition? But before I could process it, someone bumped into me, breaking the moment.

I turned away, my heart pounding. What was I doing here? This was a mistake. I was about to head for the door when Yuqi reappeared, pressing a red cup into my hand.

"Here," she said with a smile. "It'll help you relax." I took a small sip, the unfamiliar burn of alcohol hitting the back of my throat. As we stood there, Yuqi chatting animatedly about the people around us, I felt myself slowly start to unwind. Maybe agreeing to come here wasn’t too bad of an idea.I was just starting to relax, the music and Yuqi's chatter creating a comfortable bubble around us, when I saw him approaching. Sunghoon, weaving through the crowd, his eyes fixed on... us? No, it couldn't be. But it was.

He stopped right in front of us, that infuriatingly perfect smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Yuqi," he said, his voice smooth as ever. Then his eyes slid to me. "And Y/N,… it's been a while, hasn't it?" I felt my body tense, my grip tightening on the red cup in my hand. Yuqi glanced between us, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of concern. "Sunghoon," I managed to say, my voice coming out colder than I'd intended. But then again, why should I care? He seemed unfazed by my tone. "I didn't expect to see you here. You're not usually the party type, right?" The casual way he said it, as if he knew me, as if we were old friends catching up, made my blood boil. How dare he act so nonchalant after everything? "People change," I replied curtly. "Not that you'd know anything about that." I avoided eye contact. I saw Yuqi wince beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sunghoon's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of... something passing across his face. Confusion? Hurt? Good.

"Right," he said, recovering quickly. Looking down at the ground with a half smile, he takes ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​my snarky response as a que to leave. “I’ll see you around, (Y/N)” he scoffs and walks away.

“He is such an asshole” Yuqi complains, rubbing my back as a way to try to comfort me. “You responded well” I watched Sunghoon's tall, muscular figure get lost in the crowd, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me felt satisfied with how I'd handled the encounter, but another part felt... unsettled. I took a long swig from my cup, hoping the alcohol would dull the conflicting feelings. "Thanks," I mumbled to Yuqi, grateful for her support. She gave me a reassuring smile, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want to leave? We can if you're not comfortable." I considered it for a moment. The idea of going back to my dorm, burying myself in my blankets and pretending this night never happened, was tempting. But then I thought about how that's exactly what the old me would have done. The me that let Sunghoon's actions dictate her life.

"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "I'm not leaving. I have just as much right to be here as he does." Yuqi's face broke into a wide grin. "That's my girl!" she cheered, linking her arm through mine. "Let's mingle a bit, shall we?" As we made our way through the crowded room, I couldn't help but notice Sunghoon's gaze following us. Every time I glanced in his direction, he looked away, but not before I caught a flicker of... something in his eyes. It wasn't the cruel amusement I remembered from our school days. It was something else, something I couldn't quite place.

Yuqi introduced me to a few of her friends, and I found myself actually enjoying the conversations. It felt... normal. Like maybe I could do this whole college social scene thing after all. But then, over someone's shoulder, I saw Sunghoon again. He was looking right at us, his expression unreadable. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I felt a jolt of... something. Before I could analyze it further, he quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Wait, was Sunghoon blushing? I shook off the thought. It was probably just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind.

As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The alcohol helped, but it was more than that. Every minute I spent here, laughing with Yuqi and her friends, was a minute I was reclaiming for myself. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every so often, I'd catch Sunghoon looking in my direction. But it wasn't the mocking stare I was used to. There was something almost... wistful about it. Once, when our eyes met, he even offered a small, hesitant smile before quickly turning the other way. I don’t understand why he is trying to smile at me. It was confusing, to say the least. This wasn't the Sunghoon I remember. The Sunghoon who had made my life miserable. This Sunghoon seemed... different. Unsure. Almost vulnerable. As Yuqi and I were preparing to leave, I excused myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I quite literally bumped into Sunghoon in the hallway. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, steadying me with a hand on my arm. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through me. "You okay?" I nodded, unsureness in my voice. We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence stretching between us. "Listen, Y/N," he started, then paused, running a hand through his jet black hair. "I... I'm glad you came tonight. It was good to see you."

Before I could respond, he quickly walked away, leaving me standing there, completely baffled. It wasn't until much later, as Yuqi and I were stumbling back to our dorms, arms linked and giggling about nothing in particular, that I realized something. For the first time in years, I'd spent an entire evening in the same space as Sunghoon without letting it ruin my night. And more than that, I was left with the strangest feeling that maybe there was more to Sunghoon than I'd allowed myself to see. As I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted but oddly content, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. I wasn't naive enough to think one party had erased years of hurt and resentment. But maybe it was a start.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up disoriented, borderline hungover. Roll over to the side to check the time on my phone. 11:09AM? It honestly felt like I slept for three days with how many drinks I consumed. I look further down the screen to see the notifications:

1:18 AM: @prksnghn02 started following you!

1:19 AM: @prksnghn02 Liked your post!

I must have fallen asleep to quickly too see this last night, but that was definitely right after we left the party.

I scroll through the conversation, smiling slightly at the messages

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 Hey! You still here?

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 I get it if you don’t want to speak to me.

Why was he messaging me. What gives him the right? I igonore the message and delete the message request. All that before my thumb hesitantly hovered over the follow button on his profile, eventually turning it grey. I spent the weekend as usual, going to my job at night and studying in the mornings. Though I had the awkward interaction with Sunghoon at one party, I think that I could see myself going with Yuqi to another party some time. Not soon though because finals start on Monday and I have to pass to keep my financial aid. That’s another thing that pisses me off. I work day and night to pay for my schooling by myself, and Sunghoon gets it all handed to him for being okay at basketball. He teased me for growing up less wealthy than him, but if he were in my shoes, he wouldn’t have thought it was so funny.

Monday morning I was walking through the main hall on campus, where they have to coffee shop that I occasionally stop by. Of course this time when I went, Sunghoon was standing at the bookstore across the walk way, talking to his girl-toys. It took everything in me to not make things awkward by looking in his direction, but for the split second I looked that way, he was already eyeing me down. I pretended to not notice, continuing into the coffee shop line as I would do normally. The line was fairly short. I looked down at my phone to distract myself until it was my turn to order. “I am sorry (Y/N)” a familiar voice says behind me, him lightly grazing my shoulder.

My eyes immediately snap to the owner of the voice. His brown eyes were staring directly into mine as if he could tell exactly what I was thinking just by looking at me. And I know he can. ‘Hey’ he seems to say, flashing me the smallest of smirks as his hand rests on the counter to my left. I scoff in disbelief. He really is serious now isn’t he. I try to ignore him and continue with my order, but Sunghoon stops me in my tracks. My heart starts hammering harder in my chest as I glance around to make sure no one overheard. “Hey (Y/N),” he repeats, giving me his infamous smirk. “I really am sorry” he continues. He’s watching me with a curious tilt to his head as he waits for my response.

“Can I buy you a drink? Maybe we can talk some more?” For a fraction of a moment, it’s hard to believe what’s happening.

“Whatever you are trying to do, I don’t want any part of it” I said sternly, trying to shoo him away. I know he could see the annoyance on my face but that wasn’t enough to get him to leave. “Please, I want to make things right” he begged with a hint of charm in his voice. He reaches out to hold my wrist but this time instead of swatting him away, I let him. If anyone deserves an apology it should be me. He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head slightly. “Fine I guess, but do not expect to get anything out of me” I agreed hesitantly. His facial expression completely changed from worried to… relieved? We ordered together in line while I tried my best to ignore him. His scent was a distraction. It was captivating. It was comparable to mohagany and mint. Admittedly, he is tall and handsome, even when we were in middle school he had always been cute. But I would never say that out loud. Eventually, his named was called and we both went up to grab our drinks. “Thank you Sunghoon” I said while looking down, trying to get out of the situation as soon a possible. “Wait” he says before I get to far away. “I will text you” he added. I half way smiled and walked away.

~~~~~

At lunch, I found myself leaning against Yuqi as we sat at one of our tables outside. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Better” I admitted. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I’m doing better” She nodded, seemingly satisfied by my reply.

“Yuqi?” I spoke again once I had my full attention back on her. She turned her attention towards me expectantly.

“Why don’t you give him another chance?” she sighed, rolling her neck around. “I mean, he seems like he is genuinely trying to make it up to you.”

“Yes he is putting in the effort now, but the pain that he put me through doesn’t just go away in an instant, it will take time for me to trust him”

“I understand” she muttered.

~~~~~

A few days had passed but I had never received a message from Sunghoon. Maybe he forgot or maybe he was scared…. I don’t know. But I can’t help but to think that I was maybe looking forward to that message. Yuqi was right, maybe he does deserve another chance. The library was my number one studying location. It was quiet, I could focus, and nobody bothers me. I actually have some time to myself. I have tested out every study area here and the to floor is by far my favorite. I press the 5 on the elevator control pad, and as the doors start closing, someone’s hand is placed between the doors, causing them to shoot back open. It was Sunghoon. I awkwardly scoot to the edge of the confined space to make sure there was more than enough room between us. His eyes light up when he realizes I was the one in the elevator.

“Would it be a problem if I rode with you?” he asked hesitatingly with an awkward smile.

“No, why would there be a problem?” I replied quickly. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds after my answer, and then I heard the elevator ding and the doors slowly start closing again. God, being around him gave me mixed emotions. His aura is so captivating, but his personality is the opposite. And not to mention that mohagany scent again. We rode to the fifth floor in total silence and exited the elevator once it stopped. When we both made way out of the elevator to walk our own directions, He gently grazed my shoulder and said “Good luck with finals” and walked the other direction.

-

Later that same evening while I was still on the library, my phone pinged with a new notification.

prksnghn02: Hey are you available?

prksnghn02: I know I said I was sorry but I really want you to know how I feel. I can’t do it over text.

I think this is the message that I have been waiting to see. I would appreciate to see him and have him fully apologize, though I don’t think this is the right time. It’s the middle of finals week and lord knows I am already struggling as is. I look up from my phone, observing my surroundings, and spot Sunghoon across the almost empty room lounging on a library bean-bag. Alone. That’s a first considering his royalty equivalent status on campus. He was clearly looking at me when I opened his message.

yourusername: Hey, sorry. I really need to study for this Sociology final. I can definitely carve out a time to meet next week.

I look up at him and point at my phone, making a frowny face and his expression mirrors mine.

prksnghn02: Who is the professor? I aced my sociology class I took over the summer. If you need any help lmk.

He looks at me with a thumbs up. His offer seems tempting, but what would I do? Sit there and hear him lecture me? It would already be hard enough to pay attention given how his arms are looking in that black fitted top.

yourusername: I will think about it.

I try to focus on my sociology notes, but my eyes keep drifting back to Sunghoon. He's still lounging on the bean bag, but now he has a textbook open on his lap. Every so often, he glances up, catching my eye before we both quickly look away. The tension is palpable, even from across the room. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This is getting ridiculous. I'm here to study, not to play this weird game of cat and mouse with my former bully turned... what? Potential friend? The thought makes me uncomfortable. I make a split second decision on impulse and grab my phone, maybe regretting my decision later.

yourusername: Okay fine, come help me.

I witness Sunghoon look at his phone and shoot up out of his seat within the span of 3 seconds. Impressive. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Sunghoon practically skidded to a stop in front of my desk. It was a stark contrast to his usual nonchalance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, I was back in middle school, his laughter echoing in the halls, the same laughter that used to sting.

“So, sociology huh?” he said with the most awkward tone possible. “What do you need help with” he continues, signaling his hand towards my messy notes. My notebook has definitely seen better days. I sighed, shoving my phone into the abyss of my backpack.

"Everything feels like gibberish. Professor Ramirez throws these massive lectures at us, and it all just blends together." Surprised laughter rumbled out of him.

"Ramirez? Yeah, he can be a bit much. But trust me, sociology isn't actually that complicated. Let's see your notes." Tentatively, I slid my well-worn notebook across the desk. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of turning paper. I snuck a peek at him. His features were softened by a focus I wouldn't have expected. "Okay," he finally said, looking up. "This isn't so bad. You've got the basic concepts down. I think you're just getting overwhelmed by the details."

Relief flooded me. Maybe I wasn't completely incompetent after all. He settled into the chair across from me, his arm brushing mine for a moment as he reached for a pen. He continued to sort through my notes, trying to piece together what I may not be understanding. He was surprisingly patient with me, and even created examples for me to try and understand better. Not to mention that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him as he spoke. His black hair falling loosely in front of his dark brown eyes and black glasses was so sexy.

"So basically, social stratification is like the ranking system within a society?" I summarized, feeling a flicker of accomplishment. Sunghoon grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Exactly! See, you were getting it all along." He paused, then reached for a specific page in my notes.

"Now, let's talk about power structures and how they influence social mobility…" Time melted away as Sunghoon patiently guided me through the sociological knowledge. I peppered him with questions, surprised by my own comfort level.

He answered them all with good humor and a surprising depth of knowledge that made him seem worlds apart from the bully I knew in middle school and the jock he is now. I looked at his face once again, admiring the way he furrowed his eye brows when he concentrated. I am snapped out of my trance with

“What?” Sunghoon questioned me, tilting his face to the side. I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until a second or two later.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. Go on with what you were saying” I averted my eyes towards the table to try and hide the blood in my cheeks. “Heh, Okay….” he chuckles fiddling with the ring on his finger. He pauses for a few seconds and picks up with “You should get home soon. You don’t wanna have late nights, right?”

He looks me dead in the eye as he says this, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. I glanced at my phone, startled to see it was already 1 AM. We'd been studying for hours without realizing it. The library, usually bustling with stressed students, was now eerily quiet.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it got," I mumbled, hastily gathering my notes. Sunghoon stretched, his shirt riding up slightly. I pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, time flies when you're having fun with sociology, right?" he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Right, because power structures are just a barrel of laughs." As we packed up our things, Sunghoon hesitated, then asked, "Hey, um, would you like me to walk you back to your dorm? It's pretty late." I paused, considering. The old me would have immediately refused, not wanting to spend an extra second with him.

But now... "Sure," I found myself saying. "That would be nice." We stepped out into the cool night air, the campus very quiet around us. For a moment, we walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps on the pavement.

"So," Sunghoon started, breaking the silence. "Did you find the study session helpful?" I nodded, surprised by my own honesty.

"Yeah, actually. You explain things... differently than I expected." He raised an eyebrow.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," I admitted. "You're more... patient than I thought you'd be." Sunghoon chuckled softly. "Well, don't sound so surprised. Im not just a handsome face ya know.” I felt a retort forming on my lips, but bit it back.

“Yeah yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” As we walked, I couldn't help but sneak glances at him. In the soft glow of the street lamps, he looked... different. Softer somehow. Less like the arrogant boy I'd built up in my mind and more like... well, just a guy. "You know," he said suddenly, his voice quiet. "I meant what I said before. About being sorry." I felt my body tense. "Sunghoon, we don't have to-"

"No, please," he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. I turned to face him, surprised by the earnestness in his eyes. "I was a jerk in middle school. More than a jerk. I was cruel, and I've regretted it for years. I just... I want you to know that. I am sorry." I stood there, stunned. This vulnerability was so at odds with the Sunghoon I thought I knew.

"I... thank you," were the only words that were able to come out of my mouth. - I turned to face towards him as we reached the enterance of my dorm building. “Okay, I guess I can take it from here” I said, grabbing my key card out of my backpack.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.” I entered the building and the door was already halfway closed before Sunghoon grabbed it and called out behind me, "Wait!” I stopped mid step and turned to meet his curious gaze, confused by what he could possibly want to say. I gave him a questioning look as he approached me slowly. His hands fidgeted nervously, and he took one last glance around, making sure no one was watching before reaching up to touch my cheek hesitantly. His thumb brushed the area under my eye lightly, his hand moving downwards slowly until he rested his palm flat on my jaw. I was somehow okay with this, despite the butterflies in my stomach.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I stared at his hand resting gently on my skin, unable to tear my gaze away from his. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into me with an intensity I have never felt. “Have a good night, (Y/N)” he said softly, grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. He leaned down slowly while gazing into my eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. My breath hitched as he brought his other hand up and cradled my cheek, brushing some loose strands of hair out of my face. “You too, Sunghoon”

~~~~~

The end of finals week had finally come and I am not exaggerating when I say that this is the most relieved I have ever been in my life. I was lounging on my bed scrolling through tik tok and I saw a message pop up at the top of my screen.

prksnghn02: Hey! A few of us are having a small get-together at the frat house to celebrate surviving finals. You and Yuqi should come.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A month ago, I would've immediately declined. But now… things were different. The study session with Sunghoon, our late-night walk, the way he'd touched my face before saying goodnight - it all swirled in my mind, a confusing mix of old resentment and new… something.

yourusername: Let me check with Yuqi. What time?

His response was almost immediate.

prksnghn02: Around 8? It's just a few people, nothing crazy. Promise it won't be like last time.

I couldn't help but smile at that. The last party had been a turning point, in a way.

yourusername: Okay, I'll let you know.

I rolled over, dialing Yuqi's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Please tell me you're calling to drag me out of this post-finals funk," she groaned.

I laughed. "Actually, yeah. Sunghoon invited us to a small thing at the frat house. You in?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sunghoon, huh? You two seem to be getting along better."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We're… working on it," I admitted. "So, you coming or what?"

"Obviously," she said. "I'll be at yours in an hour. We need to talk about this Sunghoon situation, by the way."

I groaned. "There's no 'situation', Yuqi."

"Uh-huh. Sure. See you soon!"

She hung up before I could protest further. I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later, Yuqi was sprawled on my bed, watching me rummage through my closet.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You and Sunghoon, huh?"

I threw a shirt at her. "There's no 'me and Sunghoon'. We're just… I don't know. Not enemies anymore, I guess."

Yuqi sat up, her expression serious. "Look, I know he was awful to you in middle school. But people change, you know? And he seems to be really trying."

I sighed, sitting down next to her. "I know. It's just… complicated."

She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Life's complicated. Doesn't mean you can't give it a chance."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Yuqi always had a way of cutting through my defenses.

"Now," she said, her tone lightening. "Let's find you something cute to wear. Just because it's not a 'situation' doesn't mean you can't look hot."

I rolled my eyes, but let her pull me back to the closet.The frat house was quieter than I'd ever seen it. No pulsing music, no crowds of people. Just the soft murmur of conversation and laughter drifting from the back patio. Sunghoon met us at the door, his face lighting up when he saw us. "Hey! You made it." he said, ushering us inside. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. "Drinks are in the kitchen, we're all out back."

As we followed him through the house, I couldn't help but notice how different he seemed here, in his element. Relaxed, open, a far cry from the popular Sunghoon I was used to seeing on campus. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly attractive. The back patio was strung with fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the small group gathered there. I recognized a few faces from classes, but it was indeed a much smaller crowd than the usual frat parties.

Yuqi immediately gravitated towards a group she knew, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door. Sunghoon appeared at my side, two red cups in hand. "Here," he said, offering me one. "It's just punch, but fair warning - Heeseung made it, so it's probably stronger than it tastes." I took a sip, the sweetness masking the unmistakable burn of alcohol. "Thanks for inviting us," I said, surprised by how much I meant it. Sunghoon's smile was soft, almost shy. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would." "Honestly? I wasn't sure either," I admitted. He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. Come on, let me introduce you to some people." As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The punch was indeed strong, but the warm buzz it provided was pleasant.

Sunghoon stayed close, always making sure I was included in conversations, laughing at my jokes, his hand occasionally brushing against mine in a way that seemed both accidental and deliberate. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the gestures he made when he was explaining something he was passionate about. It was hard to reconcile this Sunghoon with the boy who had tormented me in middle school. At some point, Yuqi caught my eye from across the patio and gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn't help the smile that subtly appears on my face.

As the night progressed, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Yuqi had gotten into an intense discussion about some TV show with a guy from her psych class, leaving Sunghoon and me alone on a small bench near the edge of the patio. The fairy lights cast a soft glow on his features, and I found myself staring longer than I should have. "You know," Sunghoon said, his words slightly slurred, "I never thought we'd be here like this." I raised an eyebrow. "What, drunk on your frat house patio?" He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "No, I mean... talking. Like friends."

His hand found mine on the bench between us, his fingers intertwining with mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, but I didn't pull away. "I was such an ass to you in middle school," he continued, his voice dropping low. "I... I didn't know how to deal with how I felt about you back then." I froze, my heart suddenly pounding. "What do you mean?" Sunghoon turned to face me, his eyes intense even in their alcohol-glazed state. "I had the biggest crush on you," he admitted. "But I was too stupid and insecure to know how to handle it. So I lashed out instead." I sat there, stunned.

The Sunghoon I knew in middle school, the one who had made my life miserable, had a crush on me? It didn't make sense, and yet... "That doesn't excuse what I did," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Nothing excuses that. But I want you to know how sorry I am. And how glad I am that you're giving me a chance to make it right."

I looked at our intertwined hands, then back up at Sunghoon's face. The vulnerability in his expression took my breath away. "I... I don't know what to say," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I just wanted you to know." We sat there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. Then, without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met softly, hesitantly at first. Then Sunghoon's free hand came up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

It was sweet and a little clumsy, tasting of punch with a hint of alcohol. His lips were softer than I'd imagined - not that I'd been imagining it, of course. When we broke apart, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Sunghoon's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite name.

"I... wow," he breathed, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. Before I could respond, the patio door slid open and Yuqi's voice rang out. "Y/N? You out here?" Sunghoon and I sprang apart, but not before Yuqi caught sight of us. Her facial expression completely changed, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone teasing. I stood up quickly, nearly losing my balance. Sunghoon steadied me with a hand on my arm, the touch sending another jolt through me. "We were just... talking," I managed to say, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. Yuqi's grin widened. "Uh-huh. 'Talking.' Got it. Well, hate to break up this... conversation, but it's getting late. We should probably head out." I nodded, suddenly feeling very sober. "Right. Yeah. Let's go."

As we made our way back through the house, I could feel Sunghoon's eyes on me. At the front door, he caught my hand. "Text me when you get home safe?" he asked, his voice low. I nodded, words not being able to leave my mouth. He squeezed my hand once before letting go. - The walk back to the dorms was quiet, Yuqi mercifully holding back her questions until we were safely in my room. "Okay," she said, flopping onto my bed. "Spill. Everything. Now." I sank into my desk chair, my mind replaying the kiss over and over. "I... I don't even know where to start," I admitted.

Yuqi's expression softened. "Start at the beginning. And don't leave anything out."

~~~~~

Going over to Sunghoons frat house became a frequent thing over the winter break. About twice a week I would go with Yuqi and kick back with a few of his friends, the same ones that were there the first time.

During those times, we'd always end up hanging out in Sunghoons backyard, or playing in his pool. He definitely acted a lot different around his friends than I expected. More relaxed, open, less guarded. In turn he opened up to me a bit too.

“If I beat you in a round of pool, you have take a shot with me” Sunghoon said chuckling, nudging his elbow against my arm. “Come on, that’s fair!”

“I guess, but what do I get it I win?”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know what, I can think of something…” He moved closer to me, the tip of his nose inches away from mine. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to resist the urge to pull away. Instead, I remained still, watching nervously as his mouth slowly drew closer and closer. “I think you might like it” he said teasingly.

“I guess I should just let you win then” I sighed sarcastically, trying to ignore the butterflies built up in my stomach.

He scoffs “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t bite” he said, moving back just enough so he could meet my eyes. His voice was low and husky, sending a ripple of heat through my body.

“So, what kind of shot?” I asked lightly, trying to ignore the way my voice shook as I spoke.

“I think I have some Don Julio” he mused, running a hand along the back of his neck.

Sunghoon it first to break all of the pool balls apart, declaring him as solids. Drinking beer between each of our turns and chatting about family and work, Sunghoon was a lot better at pool than he originally let on, because soon enough he had only 2 solid balls left, while I still had 5 stripes.

I was expecting him to have already won at this point. When he set his cue on the edge, lining up to hit one of the solids into a hole, the 8 ball shoots across the board, into the hole closest to me.

“Aw shit, I guess you won” He said with a fake defeated look.

I laughed, setting my bottle aside. “Looks like it. Thanks for letting me have a couple extra rounds” I said, winking at him. I missed my cue stick by mere centimeters, but didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Sunghoon; his hair stuck up everywhere, his skin glistening with sweat after his game, his shirt clung tightly to his frame.

A loud bang echoed off the walls, making us both jump slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped towards the window behind me, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Someone just slammed the garage door shut” he whispered. “Did they close up for the night?”

We had spent so much time playing pool, we didn’t realize that slowly, one by one, people started to go home. This meaning that Yuqi probably caught a ride home with someone and the only people left here are the 3 frat guys staying in the house over the break.

“It’s getting late, I should probably call an Uber” I said, rubbing my eyes for focus.

“Why leave so soon? Doing Uber this late at night could be dangerous, you never know what kind of people could be out there.”

“What other option do I have? Yuqi went home already” I replied, grabbing my phone.

“You can stay here, you can sleep on my bed and I will set up a bed on the floor” he offered.

“I don’t know if that is the best idea” I muttered, staring at my feet.

“Just sleep here. Don’t waste money on an Uber, and I promise I can take great care of you.” he urged me, placing his hand under my chin so that I would finally look at him. “Do you really believe that I would let you get into a strangers car right now?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Fine, but only because I trust you.”

~

We pack up all of our stuff from outside, including my purse and all of the extra alcohol. There are so many room in the frat house and I have never been upstairs, I have no idea which one is Sunghoons. As the two of us climb the stairs up to his room, we both silently agree not to mention the previous events from the other night.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why I kissed him, And I don’t know why he kissed me. Even though he did tell me a little about the reason behind our relationship, it wouldn’t matter, he was too far gone for it to change anything anyway.

The moment we step into his room, he tosses his backpack onto the floor and gestures to the large queen sized bed sitting in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, I can’t sleep wearing jeans and a tank top” I said, gesturing to my jeans.

“Don’t worry about it, I can lend you something” he said, walking over to a laundry basket of clothes lying on the floor near the wardrobe. “I haven’t gotten the chance to put up my laundry, let me find something” he explains, rummaging through the basket.

He pulls out a large black t-shirt and some basketball shorts. “Here, try these on” and walked over, handing them to me, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“Look away!” I playfully shouted while waving my hand to shoo him. “

“Oh my gosh, okay” he covers his eyes like a cartoon character.

Luckily I was wearing some spandex shorts and a sports bra underneath, so even if he did sneak a peek, which I’m sure he did, nothing too important would have been exposed. On him the clothes look normal size, but on me, the shirt fit like a dress and the shorts touched half way down my shins. “I guess I have no choice” I shrugged.

I crawl into his bed while he went to fetch an extra blanket for me out of his closet. At this point, he was already in his sleep attire. No shirt and some basketball shorts. It was hard to concentrate when he was standing there wearing nothing but shorts. I admit that maybe I was staring a bit longer than appropriate.

“You like what you see?” he says in a cocky tone, chuckling at my embarrassment.

“Shut up, you are so annoying” I scoff and roll my eyes, laying back down on the bed.

“Haha okay…” he smirks as he stands up from the closed with the blanket in his hand. “Hopefully this will keep you warm enough” he said, covering me with the big piece of fabric.

“Thank you, Sunghoon” I said, turning over to attempt to catch some sleep. He set up a little bed on the floor with a blanket and a pillow right next to the bed and layer down as well.

After sometime of just listening to the sound of the crickets outside, the quiet noises of the street, cars passing by, the occasional chirp of a bird. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, comfortable almost. I couldn't help the small smile forming on my face as I lay my head on my arm.

My brain kept drifting away from sleep, my thoughts constantly drifting back to Sunghoon. My heart rate was rising with every second that passed, I tried desperately to calm myself down, not wanting to give any indication that I was starting to get aroused. The more I listened to the sounds outside, the more I felt the overwhelming desire to be wrapped up in his arms. Just to feel him hold me.

I sigh deeply, rolling over onto my side and facing him. The soft glow of moonlight illuminating the entire room, casting light patterns on his sleeping features. If this was any other day, I would definitely stare at him until dawn, taking in every minute detail of him.

I scooted over to the edge of the bed, just close enough for me to nudge Sunghoon with my foot. “Hoon, are you awake” I whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the moonlight leaking through the blinds. “Yeah” he clears his throat. “Why?”

“Can you lay with me?” I whispered again.

He stared at me for a second, trying to understand what was going through my mind. Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, lying down next to me. His body was hot against mine, making goosebumps erupt throughout my skin, but the feeling was comforting nevertheless. We laid like that in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, it became too awkward and I had to move closer into Sunghoon, cuddling up next to him. “I like this” I say quietly, resting my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his faint scent. He chuckled slightly, positioning himself to where his fingers could comb though my hair.

I mumble, wrapping my arm around his torso. His fingers stopped their ministrations then, hesitating for a moment. I looked up at him from my position on his chest, curious as to what made him stop. I met his deep brown eyes that were focused solely on me. His gaze was soft, yet intimidating at the same time. Slowly, carefully, he lifted my head off his body and held it between his hands. Then he brought his lips to meet mine softly.

He pulled me in closer, gently running his fingertips along my jawline, making my heartbeat pick up in pace. His kisses were slow and sweet, the most tender kiss I've ever had. After several seconds of pure bliss, he pulled away slowly, watching me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. When my eyes fluttered open I met with his eyes, gazing deeply into each others’. A smile formed on my lips, making Sunghoon lean in to reconnect our lips again.

He placed his hands on the sides of my neck, holding me close to him, deepening the kiss, our tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. Our bodies pressed closely together, moving together rhythmically. His hands lifted up my oversized shorts and began roaming across my bare thighs, tracing up the hem of my shirt. We kept getting tangled in each other’s clothing as we continued kissing.

He reached my breasts, pushing up my sports bra to give them an affectionate squeeze, causing me to gasp in response. My hands moved down from his shoulders and ran up the backs of his arms to his neck, pulling on his short hairs slightly. Pulling on the strands of hair caused him to release a low growl and deepen the kiss, pulling his tongue into my mouth. Suddenly I felt his teeth graze my bottom lip, causing me to whimper slightly at the unexpected pain. When he released my lower lip, he sucked on it, sucking on it harder and harder with his sharp canine teeth. “Fuck…” I moan, gripping tightly onto the ends of his dark brown locks.

He took the opportunity to slide his hands under my shirt, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples lightly, causing my stomach muscles to tense up involuntarily. A slight smirk crept onto his lips as he noticed this, but then he proceeded to push the crop top further up on my shoulders before placing soft gentle kisses along my collar bone. He sprinkled kissed on my shoulders and chest and then moved down towards my waistline, placing soft soft kisses along my belly button. His hand started to work its way downwards, slowly caressing the insides of my thighs.

He latched one of my nipples into his mouth, gently suckling the tight swollen bud of flesh with his teeth and tongue. As his hand reached down and slid his middle finger along the underside of my left thigh, causing me to grind against his hand.

He trailed his hand back up to the bottom of my shirts and bunched it up in his hand “Can I take this off?” he leaned next to my ear and whispered. My breath hitched at how sensual he sounded.

“Please” I managed to speak out. He didn’t reply immediately, only gave me a reassuring smile before pulling it over my head, only leaving my bra. His lips found their way back up to mine, sending a surge of electricity through me. His hands worked their way to bottom of my bra, lifting it up and throwing it to the side as well. The cool air on my bare stomach and chest suddenly sent tingles all over my body, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps all over my skin. He smiled at my reaction, continuing to caress my inner thigh.

“Is it okay if I take these off too?” he whispered, grazing the waistband of my shorts.

I let go of his arms and nodded my head yes, watching his expression change from relaxed to excited. I watched him pull those off and discard them as well, leaving only my thong on. “I hope this is okay” he smiled. He was still looking at me with those intense eyes, making it difficult for me to breathe properly.

He removed the last piece of clothing from me, both my spandex and the shorts he gave me, revealing my beautiful skin and perfectly plump curves underneath. He took a few seconds to appreciate every inch of my body before sliding his slim fingers between my legs. Instinctively my knees fell apart slightly, allowing him access to my core which caused his eyes to darken even more. As he gently traced circles around my bud, sending me into complete ecstasy, I moaned loudly, moaning in pleasure as my hips began grinding into his finger tips.

“God, you’re so pretty” he whispered, trailing kisses along my cheek. I bit my bottom lip to suppress the moans coming out of my mouth as he continued to stroke the wetness inside of my thighs. “So perfect.”

He spread my wetness all over his fingers and slid one finger inside of my desperate hole. At first, he started slowly, his thumb circling my clit while his middle finger slid in and out of my warm opening, slowly increasing the amount of pressure until I was gripping down onto his fingers with all of my strength. He increased the speed of his movements, adding another finger, pumping them hard into me. I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying my best to keep a good grip on his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so wet angel” he groans. He took his hand away to pull off his own shorts, with his boxers. His dick spring free, tip raging and dripping with precum. It was big, a lot bigger than I had expected.

I take all of his length into my fist as he continues contact with my folds. “Fuck, that feels good, baby” he says under his breath. I collect spit in my mouth and layer his tip and slide my hand up and down slowly.

I feel a familiar knot forming in my stomach as he keeps a consistent pace pumping his finger into my gushing pussy. “Agh yess” I moan on his cock, feeling the burning sensation building up. He leans down to place a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder, his warm breath fanning my sensitive skin, causing my back arch even higher. "Let go babygirl"he murmurs against my shoulder.

I let my hand rest against his erection, stroking him slowly, feeling the tip get longer by the moment. Soon enough, I can no longer contain myself as I let the orgasm rip out of me. His name came spilling out of my mouth, followed by a loud moan “Fuck Sunghoon, just like that.” I continue to hold on to him as the wave of pleasure takes over me, feeling my muscles start to seize up and my vision starting to blur.

As I'm regaining my composure, he pulls out of me, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. “You taste so good, princess” he praises, with sweat droplets forming in his forehead.My face turns red with embarrassment. I cover my face with my palms as I try to control my breathing. Sunghoon chuckles and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my blushing face and places them on his cheeks instead. “Don’t be embarrassed, babygirl. That was hot” he says. My blush gets stronger by the second.

“Let me get you cleaned up” he suggested, getting out of the bed to go to his bathroom where he kept his extra cloths. He came back with a small smile on his face. He runs the rag between my legs and said “I am really happy you decided to spend the night”

“Me too Sunghoon” my smile only visible by the moonlight. He went back into the bathroom to put the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper.

“Now come here…” He brings his lips to meet mine once more. He wraps his arms around my sore body, making my face bury into his chest. Our bare skin resting against eachother was so relaxing. His skin was soft, and he was perfectly toned to my liking. He runs his fingers through my hair and begins to massage my scalp, making my whole body tremble. “It’s really late, sweetheart, let’s get some rest” he whispers and kisses my forehead, then rests his chin on the top of my head. As I lay there in Sunghoons embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off him, my eyes gradually fall shut.

-

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[munsonsmixtapes]

Flattery Works With Me

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: with a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask

part two

The conversations that were happening throughout the cafeteria rang in your ears as you headed to the table that you always sat at. The usual suspects were all there and you were going to take your seat right next to Eddie just like always. 

You were nervous to speak to him, not only because you were shy, but also because you had been meaning to ask him if the DnD session for that night could be postponed because you had a lot of homework. But you knew how he felt about that sort of thing so you were dreading it, hoping that he would agree just this once. 

Before you could sit, though, you could see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all arguing a little ways away from the table. From the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty heated and there was no way you were getting in the middle of that. You hated hearing people argue, the loud voices always making you feel anxious because you didn’t have control of the situation. And you liked having control, craved it, even. 

But as soon as you set your tray down on the table, Lucas waved you over. You didn’t know what he was wanting, but you reluctantly made your way over to the boys, your curiosity piqued. You now had to know what their little spat had to do with you. 

“What’s going on?” You asked and Dustin was about to speak before Mike cut him off. That was something that happened often considering that Mike didn’t like how slowly Dustin would take to explain the situation. 

“Look,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. “We have a prior commitment and can’t make it to the session tonight.” You just knew that they were only telling you that because they wanted you to ask Eddie. 

“Correction: Mike was out late with El last night and got grounded so he can’t go to the session,” Lucas corrected with a roll of his eyes. 

“We were wondering if you’d talk to Eddie for us?” Dustin looked at you with hopeful eyes and the smile on his face made you want to pinch his little cheeks. 

“Why me?” You knew exactly why, but you wanted confirmation that Eddie did feel how you thought he did. That you weren’t just being delusional. Because that had happened so many times; you having a crush on someone and your feelings not being reciprocated in any way shape or form. 

“Are you kidding? The man is in love with you.” You scoffed at the comment, but couldn’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks. Could it have been possible? You supposed you were going to have to ask, but you just couldn’t get yourself to. Asking him to postpone the session was one thing, but asking if he had feelings for you? Absolutely not. 

“Yeah, he’ll do anything you say.” There was some truth to that and if you had more confidence, you would have tested just how far you could get by batting your lashes and putting on a flirty tone. “So will you please ask him?” You were going to ask him anyway, but now there was pressure on you to actually make the move.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Surely he would have postponed it for them, right? 

Mike rolled his eyes and made a beeline for Eddie and you watched the conversation, barely picking up what they were saying, but Eddie definitely didn’t look happy. He then waved Mike off and the boy gave you a look as if to say “See?” 

“I told you, he won’t listen to us. But with you? I think we have a shot.” 

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You really didn’t believe them, because why would Eddie have been interested in you? You had barely uttered a full sentence to the man in the few months that you’d known him so there was no possible way that he could have liked you like that. 

“Please?” Dustin begged one more time and the three of them jutted out their bottom lips, their eyes pleading. God, you really were a pushover. 

“Well, I do have a lot of homework to do tonight.” 

“I knew she’d do it,” Mike nodded with a smile and you ignored him, taking a deep breath and heading over to the metal head who was sitting at the end of the table. 

Eddie took no time to turn to you, a bright smile appearing on his face. You were so pretty that it was unfair and he kept wondering to himself what he had done to have been so lucky to have you in his life. He thought your shyness was adorable, the way he’d have to lean forward to hear what you were saying because of how soft spoken you were. 

And the dresses you always wore nearly killed him. The way they swung when you walked and how everyone would stare at you in the school hallway, he wondered how you didn’t realize just how beautiful you were. Surely you had to have known, but with the way you were always so surprised when he complimented you, it was clear that you had no idea. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted him, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him, every time you caught sight of that beautiful brown color, you knew you’d be a goner. They were hypnotizing, so fucking pretty that it should have been a crime. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning fully in his chair to face you. “Take a seat.” If he knew it wouldn’t have made you uncomfortable, he would have offered his lap. 

You hesitantly sat in the seat next to him and he could tell you were uneasy, your anxiety palpable. He let his hand inch towards yours underneath the table, letting his pinky stroke yours gently as if asking for permission to take it. Without a word, you wrapped your pinky around his, ignoring his gaze, unpacking your lunch with your free hand.

You felt your anxiety melt away as you felt his pinky squeeze yours gently, as if to tell you that he was right there for you. And he was. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, because at that point, you were his number one priority and he would stop at nothing to help you. He wished it was possible to go into your mind and quiet the voices that were always whispering to you.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked, feeling your hands shake as you realized what you were about to do. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Eddie just leaned forward so he could hear you. His hearing wasn’t that great anyway, but he actually kind of liked that you were so soft spoken so he had an excuse to get closer to you. 

“Anything,” he replied, giving your pinky another squeeze and you beckoned him forward. Eddie leaned closer to you with no question and you nervously reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, cupping your hand around it before leaning in and whispering into it. 

“I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight and I was wondering if it’d be okay if we postponed the session tonight?” You asked and felt your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for his answer. You pulled away from him and bit down on your bottom lip and Eddie had to stop himself from staring, wanting to pull your lip from your teeth and kiss you, not giving a single fuck about who was looking. 

You were so goddamn adorable that he felt his chest ache. Didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? Just one bat of those eyelashes and he would have even been willing to commit murder if it meant that you would give him even a sliver of a chance. 

“Yeah,” he nodded his head furiously. “No problem. You know flattery works with me," he winked, giving you a nudge. He hadn’t even given his decision a second thought as he stood up from the table, his mushy feelings subsiding as he took on his authoritative role. 

“Alright, everyone listen up,” he said, his voice a little too loud for your liking. “The session tonight is being postponed until next week because y/n has homework to do.” You turned to the others at the table and they all groaned, digging into their pockets and pulling out money that Dustin was gratefully taking, thanking them all for the cash. 

You could hear grumbles from the others, upset that not only was there not going to be a session that night, but also because they now were out five dollars. It was seemingly a lose-lose. You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you, a warm smile playing on his pretty pink lips. 

He then leaned down and put his lips right by your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shudder. His hand fell to your shoulder and the way his hair was fanning around you made your cheeks heat even more. 

“I can help you with your homework if you need it.” He pulled away so that your faces were only inches apart, that stupid smirk still evident on his lips. 

“I-I’d like that,” you nodded. 

“It’s a date,” he said, shooting you a wink before sitting back down in his chair. You lowered your head and began eating your lunch, letting yourself come up with things to do with Eddie because there was no way you were actually going to do your homework.

[ghostlywhiskey]

pen pal simon - original post

every day after work, you found yourself sat at your desk attempting to write back a response to the soldier who referred to himself as ‘ghost’. crumpled up stationary surrounded your desk space, along with different types of pens as you obsessed over your handwriting. if one letter of your penmanship looked wrong, the paper would become another ball added to the collection of half written letters that contained slightly different, if not the same, wording in response to the thank you letter from ghost.

the simple questions he asked to get to know you suddenly felt like the hardest questions to answer, as if you were being graded on the facts about yourself. was he going to find your hobbies boring? maybe your hobbies were boring the more you read your response. the easiest question to answer was regarding how long you had been doing the care packages - a few years since one of your friends had a significant other that joined the military. stories often mixed with people who received packages and cards from family members frequently, but the ones where some received little to none are the ones that made you upset. so, you had decided to explain that to ghost and it was probably the easiest response of them all to write out. not single moment did the pen leave the paper for you to collect your thoughts or how to word your answer.

but then, you continued to answer the questions he asked you, and in return you asked him similar or different ones. again, you weren’t positive he would reply this time around, but you figured you’d still return the gesture of asking him questions as well. and when you finished writing it all, reading through it god only knows how many times for errors, you finally slipped it into an envelope. this time, no ‘treats’ were included, instead you had opted to ask him if he had any favorites, that way if he did end up writing you back then you could buy him what he preferred.

and after you mailed out the letter, you pushed the thought of it to the side to try and forget about it. but, you couldn’t deny every time you arrived home and checked the mail you were secretly hoping there was a response. but then a few weeks went by and there really was no response waiting mixed in with your other mail.

then after almost two months, after a shit day at work, you didn’t even think twice as you grabbed the mail and walked into your home. going through the motions of your routine - showering, cooking dinner and anything else you had to take care of, you finally sat at the counter towards the end of the night to sort through the mail. a small card was tucked between a bunch of other trash mail, your eyes immediately recognizing the handwriting. quickly, you opened up the envelope and sure enough, that same notebook paper was tucked into it, this time three pieces of paper unfolded in your hands. 

..it’s been quite hectic over where i’m currently at, so sorry for the lack of my responding…

...i’m a bit upset of the lack of treats, it definitely beats what we have to eat sometimes.

the reason you do the packages is quite sweet. is your friends’ partner still alive? you use the past tense when you speak of them. sorry if that is rude to ask.

you read every word of the letter, not once, but twice. and he didn’t just read your response to his, he took notice of the small details. you didn’t even realize you had used the past tense, but he wasn’t wrong in his assumption either when he thought they might have passed. it was like reading a full blown conversation he had to himself in his head; the way before or after some sentences, he would write out interjections. some sentences were followed by parentheses where he made his own little comment as well about what he had just written.

again, i hope you forgive my delayed response. hope it doesn’t stop you from writing back. don’t always have the time, but promise i’ll get back to you. maybe in your next letter you can send me a picture of yourself, i think it would be nice to put a face to the name that signs off on these. i can’t do the same, but i’ll find a way to make up for that. ‘til the next letter, ghost.

and while you didn’t get started writing your response that night, you did make your way to your room with a smile on your face. excitement was already brewing about what you would say in your response and the next anticipated response he would give back, even if he did take a bit to respond.

[writersdrug]

Convincing bartender Simon to make one of those overly decorated and sweet cocktails or even add it to the menu because it’s cute and you know it’d do well on the gram and attract the ladies. He’d huff and puff but do it anyway

Like one of these with cotton candy, glitter, and sprinkles etc!: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/825988387943179970/

OMG wait I soooo want to try that-

The video ends, and Simon stares at the picture of the drink with a furrowed brow.

"Looks like somethin' you'd see at a bridal shower." He comments, handing you back your phone.

"Doesn' it?" You say with a smile, shoving your phone into your back pocket. You lean your arms over the bar and poke his side. "Come oooonnnnnn, Simon - imagine how many sales you'd make on something like that! People would love it."

"Imagine the money I'd lose, havin' t' buy bags of candy floss..." he grumbles, hiding his smirk behind his mask when you groan dramatically.

"You could do it as a promotional thing...? Like- ladies' night... in October?"

He snorts. "'Ladies' Night in October', hmm? N' what are ladies celebratin'?"

"Ok, fine- forget Ladies' Night. What about something for Halloween?"

"Like wot?" He grunts, grabbing a glass from the stack and pouring out one of the taps.

"I dunno... something fun, but practical - Oh! You could- like a Moscow Mule, but just serve it in a different glass and use edible glitter!"

Simon quirks his brow as he slides the beer glass to a customer. "Edible glitter?" He asks, wiping his hands on his rag. "Didn't know there was such a thing."

You nod quickly, your eyes full of excitement. "Yeah! God, I could pick up a bunch from the baker's supply down a few blocks. You could call it 'Witches' Brew.'"

He turns it over for a moment - in his opinion, it's ridiculous. He runs a pub, not a college bar. He would have scoffed at the idea of someone else had brought it up - but, it's you bringing it up, and that's a completely different story. You have such a brilliant gleam in your eye that melts his heart. He can't say no to you, especially after making you cry last week. He's still carrying out his penance for that.

"You think it'd sell?"

"Oh, for sure! I can make an insta post about it to get some attention."

He clicks his tongue, turning to the POS and seemingly uninterested by it. "Fine - if you spend anythin' promotin' it, let Price know. He'll reimburse ya."

You let out a triumphant whoop and slide of the barstool. He lets out a huff as you trot back to your tables, a noticeable pep in your step. He chances through the window on the kitchen door to see if his food is ready - what he's met with is Johnny's face, staring through the warming counter as he stands at the stove, a smug grin resting on his lips.

Simon can practically hear the cook's thoughts. Whipped bastard.

You had left without saying goodbye that night. You waited by the counter, rocking eagerly on your toes as Simon grabbed your tips from the night before out of the safe. As soon as he handed them to you, you snatched them and ran out the door. He was a bit irked by that, standing there with a stubborn frown as you pranced out of the restaurant - maybe you're still not back to being cheeky and chipper yet after last week. He can live with that... for now.

However, not twenty minutes later, you come stumbling back in with a paper bag in hand and a smile on your face, panting like you'd just run a marathon. Simon's anxieties quell at the sight of you.

"Got it!" You say breathlessly, walking to the edge of the bar and dropping the bag onto it. Simon folds his arms over his chest as you reach in and pull out a small bottle of glitter. You hand It to him and he takes it, holding it up to the dim light above.

"You can eat this shit?" He asks, brows furrowed.

"Mhmm!" You chirp, settling into a barstool. "Now, bartender - I'll have a Moscow Mule."

He sets the glitter down and grabs a clear glass, working on gathering the ingredients. "Ya only call me that when you want something."

"I'm calling you what you are." You respond, watching as he skillfully mixes everything together, pouring vodka from the jigger between two fingers, tossing in lime juice and topping it off with ginger beer. As shameful as it is to admit, you're kinda attracted to the skill he presents.

"Should be callin' me boss." He says, topping the drink off with a straw.

You slide off your stool and chuckle. "Yeah, you'd be into something kinky like that."

Simon has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the thought of you - nope. He won't even entertain the idea. He simply steps back a bit as you wedge yourself behind the bar (yes, he actually forces himself to give you enough room - he doesn't need you feeling hiw aroused he is).

You grab a bottle of the glitter and dash some into the drink. After swirling it with the straw, the liquid becomes iridescent with purple shimmer that billows about the glass. You look up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Witches' Brew." You announce, holding the drink out to him.

You look happy - an observation that makes Simon smile, even if he wasn't the one to cause your happiness. He lifts his mask, grabs one of the straws and plugs it, before bringing it to his mouth and sampling the drink.

"Tastes like a mule."

"But it looks like a potion, right?"

"'S this glitter goin' to be in my gut whenever I get autopsied?"

You laugh, grabbing the glass and leaving Simon behind the bar. "That would be a cute party trick." You call over your shoulder.

Simon watches you, arms folded over his chest and his eyes curious. You set the drink on the opposite end of the bar, pulling your phone from your pocket and pointing the camera to the glass. You grimace; your arm reaches over the bar to grab the rag lying over the faucet, and quickly wipe down the bartop. He huffs, grabbing his phone from the register and pulling up his group text with Soap and Price.

Ghost: got ourselves a marketing team.

He looks back up at you - you're hunched over, taking picture after picture of the drink. You twirl the straw in the liquid every few seconds, kicking up the glitter and making it reflect the low lighting of the bar.

Hus phone buzzes.

Price: ??

Ghost: she's making a drink for october and promoting it in social media

Soap: clever girl

Soap: what drink?

Ghost: moscow mule, but in a clear glass and with some edible glitter shit. it's pretty neat.

Soap: picture?

Price: Promoting? Will this cost me anything?

Simon chuckles. He pulls up the camera on his phone and aims it at you-

Except you're in a different position. You're perched so nicely on a barstool, holding your phone at arm's length and your drink in the other hand. You're smiling up at your camera, nose scrunched as you pose for a selfie. Your hair is down, your back is arched, and - did you tug your neckline down? You most certainly did. You're breasts weren't that pronounced before.

Without thinking, Simon takes a photo. The shutter clicks loudly: you look at him, as do the three patrons sitting at the bar.

Fuck. He panicks, clearing his throat and lowering his phone. "Jus' showin' the lads what you're up to." He says, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he quickly sends the picture to the chat and puts his phone in his pocket.

You smirk - whether it was truly just for Price and Soap, or if it was for himself, you felt a little flattered that you'd caught him in the act. You hoped for the latter.

Simon exhales heavily and rests his palms on the counter. His face burns beneath his mask as he tries to calm his racing heart. Fuck- was that weird? Course it fuckin' was. Goddamn creep.

His phone buzzes again. He sighs and pulls it into his hand.

Price: Cute thing, isn't she?

Simon immediately frowns, any previous shame now replaced with a fire in his chest.

"Fuckin' wot?"

[nereidprinc3ss]

just like heaven

in which flirty!reader finally confesses her feelings to a pining spencer reid after a night out. she's slightly buzzed. it's complicated.

fluff (some angst) warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader drinks alcohol, dirty jokes, so much flirting and banter, some arguing kinda, but spencer is such a gentleman, everyone gets flustered at least once, they really wanna kiss, happy ending a/n: gif :D I hope u like this! not bandages reader but like same vibes. like an AU for my AU

“Emily!”

You drawl the ee sound long, the same way you reach across the table and wiggle your fingers at her half-empty glass. Thin dark brows dart up beneath that glossy sweep of reddish-black hair. 

“Oh, wow. That’s unsettling. What?”

It’s been at least an hour since you had a drink of your own, but enough alcohol is still flowing through your veins so as to render her offensive comment inoffensive. You love Emily. You love the Tequila Sunrise sweating onto the sticky table in front of her which she’s not going to finish. 

“I think she wants your drink,” JJ assists, cheek balanced tipsily on a propped up fist. 

“Uh…”

Emily’s doe-sweet eyes flash uncertainly behind you. 

“I’m basically sober,” you insist, laying your head on your outstretched arm and letting your hair cascade as you bat your lashes, offering her your sweetest smile. “Please, Em?”

It does not go according to plan. She scoffs. 

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“... Would that work?”

“Oh my god, just… cool it with the fuck-me eyes,” she laughs. “You can have the drink.”

You sit up, turning just barely over your shoulder to address Spencer. 

“See? Emily buys me drinks. Basically.”

She slides the drink toward you, with a subtle roll of her eyes that you choose to interpret as affectionate under the dim canned lighting. As you sit back, content and free drink in hand, her eyes slide to Reid in the seat next to you, brows arching. 

“Are you sure you can handle her all on your own?”

“Handle me?” You frown deeply as Emily gathers her purse and slides out of the booth, followed shortly thereafter by JJ. “I don’t need handling.”

“Then why do you have a handler?” JJ teases.

You slump against the worn vinyl, stirring what is mostly orange juice. 

“He most definitely is not my handler. He’s my science project.”

“I got it,” Spencer assures your friends, with his trademark flattened smile. You can’t help but watch him with a grin of your own, flipping the straw in the drink and nibbling on the end until it’s stained sparkly pink. Goodbyes are issued, and soon it’s just the two of you. Perhaps it’s a tipsy delusion, but you think he seems to relax slightly when you’re alone. His eyes are easy on you. “You know, you’re not actually decreasing the amount of germ transmission by using the other end of the straw.”

“Mm… pretty sure alcohol kills germs, Doctor.”

At that, you giggle. 

Doctor. 

Soon you’re covering your face and having a full-fledged laugh attack. 

“What?” Spencer asks. From between your fingers you can see that he’s smiling guardedly, brows furrowed in a way that reminds you he’s often worried about being the butt of a joke and not knowing it. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you assure him quickly, gathering yourself. “I just… can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

“Why not? What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“You’re so young.”

And handsome. 

“I’m not that young. I’m older than you,” he defends. Only by a handful of years, but you know he’s defensive about his age after a lifetime of being told he looks young for—well, everything. 

“You’re… 32?”

That’s not right—you know as soon as you say it.

“Thirty three.” He very politely captures a hand—your hand—that had at some point ended up a little too close to his eye. You’re not sure what you planned to do once it got there—you don’t recall moving it at all. 

“Sorry.” You take your hand back, choosing to instead fiddle with a button on his coat ponderously. “33 is a good age.”

“Yeah?” Spencer laughs, angling his head as if to regard you from a new angle. It warms you all over. Burns in some places, like a shot of liquor down your throat. Makes you just as dizzy, too. “You have a lot of experience being thirty three?”

“No, I just…” your cheeks heat and you wrestle with a timid smile, averting your gaze and dropping your hand for fear his grin this close up might actually kill you. “I like 33 year old you.”

“So… you didn’t like me when I was thirty two?”

“Stop,” you beg, a self-effacing laugh into the cup of your palm. “I can’t banter. I’m not at peak performance.”

The truth of it hits you, and you sigh, folding your arms on the table and resting your cloudy head. Only then, from this new perspective, do you allow yourself to fully admire Spencer Reid. He is smiling at you, and your heart does skip a beat like you’ve got some school girl crush. These days he wears his hair falling over his face, messy on purpose, and always smells so nice. You wonder when he started caring about that stuff. You want to see what products are in his shower, and learn why he chose that cologne, or how he decides to pair his socks. He probably has some sort of algorithm. 

“Spencer,” you begin, the serious quality of your voice diminished by the smush of your cheek against your arm. Still, he tries to respect your tone, zipping the smile and answering with a playfully twitching brow. 

“Hm?”

You want to push the hair out of his face. Why is he looking down at you like that? Like he likes you?

“You’re a very good handler.”

His eyes narrow as he considers this, but the glimmer in them could still spark a forest fire. You’re probably grinning like an idiot. 

“Oh, I couldn’t handle you. You know this.”

You hum thoughtfully. 

“I bet you could. Wanna try?”

Spencer shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. To his credit, your bold-face innuendos don’t always send him into a tailspin these days. 

Just sometimes. 

“You need a ride home, don’t you?”

You sit back up, stretching your arms out. 

“You don’t have to. I could get a cab.”

“I know,” he assures you, still a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. Why. Is. He. Looking. At. You. Like. That?

“Will you let me drive?”

“I would. But, you know, my affairs aren’t in order.”

You roll your eyes as he gets out of the booth and offers you a hand. 

“I’m not that drunk.”

Spencer just wiggles his fingers. 

“If you can recite the alphabet in reverse you can drive my car.”

You roll your eyes again. Obviously he’s fucking with you, because 1. He’d never let you drive even the slightest bit inebriated, and 2. He knows you can’t say your ABC’s backward when you’re dead sober. 

The truth is you’re more buzzed than anything. You could get up and walk fine without any assistance, but he’s offering you his hand, so you take it. After you’re standing, you wonder how many excuses could you possibly dream up to get it back in yours. Should you pretend to fall?

No. Not quite worth your self respect. 

“You know…” you muse, reveling in the brief brush of him against your back as he holds open the door for you, “it’s a good thing you didn’t become, like… a medical doctor.”

Now walking side by side on the street, he glances over at you, a poorly veiled smile on his perfect face. Like a trap door brushed over with a few leaves. He wants you to see it.

“Why’s that?”

A breeze ruffles your hair. The brisk cold and the walk seem to be making things crisper already. You shrug, bunching your sleeves in your hands against the increasingly frigid night. The skirt and tights you’d chosen were perfect for a stuffy dive bar. Not so much for an early DC spring. 

“Nobody wants a hot doctor.”

He looks down at the sidewalk, hands pocketed, but the curve of his lips doesn’t lessen.  

“Hm. You’re drunker than I thought.”

“What? No! I’m—barely!” Again he laughs at you, and again you flush, looking down and counting the cracks in the pavement as you journey slowly under the bath of yellow street lights. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you called me hot.” He sounds almost delighted as he grins sheepishly around the final word. 

You snort. You’ve said worse things, more graphic things within the past few hours alone—but you suppose they’ve all been more like dirty jokes than compliments. 

“Yeah. You think you aren’t?”

Sandy locks fall side to side as he carefully measures a response. His cologne is warm—sort of smoky. It’s very nice. He doesn’t seem like he’d wear cologne. Have you already thought about his cologne tonight? Once was probably enough. 

“I just think sober you wouldn’t have said that.”

“But don’t you prefer it when I’m aggressively flirting with you? I mean, I know I do it sober too, but it's not as good, right?”

A silent stretch begins and shortly ends, and you don’t mind it. Right now, everything is a winding path through the woods. You’re willing to follow any fork off the trail if it means spending more time with him. 

“I guess I wasn’t aware that was what you were doing.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you laugh, and it echoes through the canyon of a nearby alley, “I’m not subtle, Reid.”

“I don’t know! You—for all I know that’s just how you are! I mean, what did Emily call them earlier, your—your fuck-me eyes?”

Like he does when he’s flustered, he gets shrill and stuttery. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still a complete dork on the inside—and the outside, too, as pink stains his cheeks like watercolor. You smirk at him in your periphery, watching him against the darkened city backdrop. 

“You noticed those, huh?”

“No,” he denies forcefully, but his brow is pinched like he doesn’t quite believe himself, “I mean, yes, I notice when you look at other people like that, but that’s not what I would call them—I wouldn’t call them anything, I’d just call them your eyes, you know? Not that you always look like you’re soliciting… the implication isn’t there, it’s just—I notice when you flirt with other people! With Emily, and Derek, like, not even half an hour ago. You’re lucky Hotch wasn’t there. You’d probably have given him a heart attack.”

“I’m more concerned with yours, to be honest.”

“My heart is fine,” he laughs. “Worry about my dignity.”

“Hm. I was going for both. Guess I’d better try harder.”

You don’t notice you’ve come to a stop until you’re face to face in front of his vintage Volvo. Spencer is standing closer than usual, hands perpetually stuck in that nice wool coat. He’s all windswept and pretty, smiling crookedly and eyes sparkly with humor. A strand of hair sticks to your lip gloss, and you brush it away, tucking it behind your ear and squinting up at him against the chilly breeze. The flush is either from the nip in the air or your brazen flirting. 

“Or, you could go easy on me. I’m frail. Like a… sickly Victorian child.”

Again his brow knits and he smiles like he knows what he’s said is ridiculous. But his tone is gentler now. Softer. Invites you to fall in deeper and see what you might find. 

“And ruin all my fun? Toughen up, Reid.”

For a long moment, you don’t get a response—only his eyes, soft and thoughtful on you, before you’re distracted by the sweet bow of his lips. If he notices you’re staring, it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

But something evidently does, as when he next speaks, it’s troubled. Curiosity straining against a rope that says maybe it’s better if I don’t ask. 

“Do… do you actually flirt with me? When you’re sober, I mean.”

He expects to be ridiculed. In his most vulnerable moments, he’s still bracing for rejection—turning his cheek slightly so he’s ready for the stinging blow. It opens a fissure in your chest. You frown, and speak gently. 

“Yeah, Spence. More than anyone else. You really don’t notice?”

Sometimes his face is so expressive, in the pull of his brow and tightening of his eyes and the way he wets his lips. But he probably doesn’t know that. And he can’t seem to meet your eyes, instead choosing to study the leather of your heeled boots. Sounds of late-night traffic, of tires on wet asphalt buffer the pauses between sentences. 

“I notice… when you talk to Derek and Emily and JJ and Penelope the exact same way you talk to me. I didn’t think…”

Another gap in conversation, filled with the chatter of some group pouring out of a bar somewhere. You realize he’ll need some gentle prompting to bridge it. 

“You didn’t think what?”

When his eyes flash back up to meet yours, you have a feeling like he’s shutting the pipes off. 

“It’s—uh—” he clears his throat— “it’s not important, we can—we’ll talk about it a different time. We should—”

“Wait.”

He’d been turning away but snaps right back to look at you as if on command, wearing a brand new face that tells you he’d like to wipe the past minute or so completely away. 

“Yeah?”

“Spencer. I wanna know what you were going to say.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.”

“You didn’t tell me. You mumbled evasively and walked away. We were in the middle of something and I want to know what you were going to say. Please?”

“Well, you’re drunk,” he finally sighs, and it’s a bit sharp. Stinging. 

“I am not drunk,” you defend, and it feels true, with a bitter cold lashing at your cheek and blood heightened from the walk. “You know I’m not too drunk to have a coherent conversation. Why are you being weird?”

“Because I asked you to drop it! We can’t have this conversation right now, all right? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Your stomach flips, and your breath comes a little heavier. Spencer is clearly frustrated with you. Maybe being on the wrong end of this mild vexation, and so suddenly, should make you feel guilty, or some kind of bad—but all you feel is a sort of buzz in the tips of your fingers and the thrum of your heart, something deeper than excitement pooling in your veins at having inspired this sort of passion. It means he feels something. Something for you. 

“I’m sorry,” he tries halfheartedly, unable or more likely unwilling to stay angry at you for very long, “you didn’t—”

“What conversation?”

It’s jarring how quickly this has spun on its head. The very air you’re breathing seems to have changed. The metropolitan soundscape is a rife undercurrent of tension and louder from all the words unsaid. 

Finally he swallows. 

“There’s no conversation. I’m—it was a poor choice of wording. I just meant we should get you home.”

Before he can make it to the driver’s side door, you’re calling out. 

“You think I don’t like you. And I just flirt with you ‘cause I flirt with everyone.”

Spencer stops, and turns to face you once more, sighing and head dropped to one side like you’re doing something incredibly inconsiderate. He’s never looked at you like that before, but you don’t let it shake you. 

“That’s what this is about, right?”

He says your name, but you don’t let him get further than that. 

“No, I think there is a conversation here, and saying I’m not sober enough to have it isn’t fair and you should have said something before and I think you should just say it now.”

You’re pushing his buttons with a heavy hand, though your own voice shakes. He’s feeling it too—you’ve never been so short with each other. His voice is raised. 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

It boils over. 

“That you like me!”

It rings. 

Then it’s silent. 

His face is mostly blank. A little sorrowful around his eyes. 

It’s cold, jumping into the deep end like this. 

“We can’t talk about this right now,” he finally says, glancing to the side as if to suggest a situation the size of the whole city. 

“Spencer, I—”

“It’s impossible to have a meaningful discussion until your judgement isn’t impaired, otherwise it’s—”

“I am telling you that I flirt with you because I really like you.”

“I—”

It appears you’ve truly thrown him for a loop.  For a moment his jaw works at nothing, a soliloquy of words go unspoken, and then he’s stuttering and fumbling for the right thing to say, looking everywhere but at you. 

“I can’t—that’s—regardless of whether or not it’s even true—”

“It is true.”

“Could you—stop?” He pleads. “You can’t tell me that. I mean, the power imbalance when you’ve been drinking and I haven’t—it’s—I mean, it's coercive. Because I brought it up, I asked an inappropriate question—or at least started to ask it, and you—not that it was your fault, I’m the responsible party in this instance, but if tomorrow you realize you never wanted to tell me—so I have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m just—I have to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright? And you can’t say it again.”

He’s ridiculous. You shift your weight onto one foot casually. 

“That’s not very nice. I just confessed to having a huge crush on you and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

There is an undeniable sort of pleasure in the bright of his eyes, and you phrased it that way on purpose, just to see him preen and glow—also to see if you could make him trip all over himself some more. Right now, despite the liminal space your relationship may or may not be occupying, you’re teasing him like you always do. Like he’s a friend, because he is. Before anything else. 

He tries to glower, barely. 

“Were you listening to me at all?”

“It was hard with all the stammering. I thought you might pass out.”

“I might,” he grumbles, and the admission pleases you greatly. Your lips tug as you admire him for a moment—watch his defenses go down and his features ease into something more inviting. 

God, maybe you really had been too hard on him. Maybe he really didn’t expect that you would like him back. 

You’re struck with the need to reassure. 

A dampened clack emits from your shoe where the heel hits the ground as you step down off the curb. 

“You know… I do like you. A lot. I mean it. And I’m glad I told you, because... you like me too, right?”

He raises his brows, like don’t do anything stupid, as you approach unhurriedly. It’s good to see that you haven’t broken his spirit completely. 

Less than a foot away, you stop. Close enough to be in his space. Too far for him to have the grounds to step back. 

His eyes are careful on you, analytical as always, constantly predicting an infinite number of outcomes to any given scenario. That’s how he keeps his footing in the world. But he’s never very good at predicting you. And it helps that his razor sharp intellect is dulled, some, with affection. Attraction. 

It shows in his eyes. He’ll let you push boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. More so if you keep speaking to him this softly. Almost whispering.

“Tell me you like me, Spencer.”

Because he hasn’t yet. All the heavy lifting has been done for him, and that just won’t do. 

First, he opens his mouth, and you watch the internal debate, a million things he could say, spinning round in his eyes like pinwheels. Rules, and buts, and caveats.

In the end, he just clears his throat. Speaks in the same secretive tone. Low enough to be intimate.

“I like you.”

Such a simple thing has never made you feel so airy before in your life. You steal another glance at his lips.

“So it’s really not that complicated. We could probably just kiss.”

He tinges pink.

“We definitely can’t.”

“You also said we couldn’t talk about it, and yet…”

“Talking is different. As far as I’m concerned, nothing you say to me tonight is binding. Whatever just transpired happened completely off the record. We can… talk about it tomorrow, but right now, you and I are friends.”

You shrug.

“Friends can kiss.”

“No, they can’t,” he says definitively, though not without a healthy dose of sardonic self-awareness and a dark smile. His hand finds your waist, and it’s glancing, if anything a light push, but you’re delighted nonetheless. Almost as pleased as if he really had kissed you. “It’s cold. I’m ready to leave.”

You’ve pushed him enough for one night. And it is cold. So you shuffle around the car with quick steps to the passenger side door, hooking your fingers under the biting metal handle and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle. 

You’re shivering as your thighs press against leather upholstery, only the thinnest layer of synthetic material protecting your legs. Spencer is already starting the car, but the engine is too cold to bother turning the heat on yet. 

“I think it’s colder in here than outside. Look at my hand.” You hold it up for him, and it is discolored, waxy, as he mindlessly takes it between his own much warmer ones. “I thought alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. Didn’t that chef on the Titanic survive hours in the ocean because he was hammered?”

“That’s a myth. Not the chef—he did survive, but it was a complete anomaly. Alcohol causes vasodilation in the dermis layer of the skin, so you feel warmer, but it draws blood flow away from your internal organs and significantly raises your likelihood of developing hypothermia.”

Does he notice how he’s holding your hand? Carefully pressing his thumbs to the center of your palm and pushing up through your love and life lines, cupping the fingers, before sandwiching them between his own and generating friction the way a child furiously rolls a play-doh worm?

“I guess I’m really not that drunk, then.”

He’s not expecting it, and maybe he doesn’t know what to make of your exceptionally gentle tone at first. It was a mistake, you think, as he relinquishes his hold on your hand, and you curl it to retain the memory of his warmth. But then he tucks hair behind your ear, like he’s done once or twice before, and smiles in a way you don’t quite understand. 

“I know.”

You won’t push him. You won’t ask for anything else, and you won’t demand an explanation. Spencer is special. It can all wait, because you have something good with him already. Something important. Something like holding hands. 

It comes as a surprise when he leans across the console, and you lean in a trance to meet him, and another surprise when he gently redirects, pressing his lips to your cheek, close enough to match the corners of your mouths and nothing more. 

You’d let him do it a hundred times over, but he draws back after a fraction of a lingering second, and finds your hand to stroke the back of it, forgotten in your lap. 

“You said no kissing,” you murmur, as if in a dream. If you had the wherewithal to be embarrassed maybe you wouldn’t be ogling so much. 

“Compromise.”

If anything, you should be the cheek-kisser. But there will be time to feel slighted about that later. Time to amend. For now, you look ahead robotically. 

“Is there a rule against friendly hand-holding?”

“Probably,” he says.

But he lets you hold his hand in your lap the whole drive to your apartment, anyway.