#at work for about three months they played this song and so this sort of shapeless au has been in my head for. a while now

[prythiansprincess]

heaven and back.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x theodore nott.

song inspiration: heaven and back by chase atlantic.

author's note: poly! matty and theo just hits different. the teamwork that these two would put in. whew baby that's a one way ticket to st. mungo's. these men break backs, not hearts 😏

You were good at playing games. 

As a matter of fact, Mattheo and Theodore would argue that you were a little too good. 

After all, you met your boyfriends during one of Malfoy’s infamous game nights in which you swindled Mattheo and Theodore out of a few hundred galleons during a tense round of magical poker. Ever since that fateful night in fourth year, the three of you became inseparable. Thanks to your slyness, the first Saturday of every month was deemed sacred to your fellow Slytherins. Game nights were reserved for drinking and debauchery, which just so happened to be your specialty.

Though the entirety of Hogwarts coveted an invitation to the longstanding tradition, very few were allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of the serpent’s nest. Tonight, the guest of honor was none other than the Gryffindor golden girl—Hermione Granger. She and Draco only started dating a month ago, but anyone with eyes could see that Malfoy was quite smitten. Before Hermione, Draco had never invited a significant other to game night. 

You were determined to give Hermione a warm Slytherin welcome. Hence the special potion you brewed just for the occasion. 

With a smirk, you produced the potion from your back pocket. The liquid sloshed around in the glass vial, the iridescent purple mixture flecked with specks of glitter. 

“I know that look.” Theo remarked, pulling you into his lap. “What sort of trouble are you brewing, dolcezza?” 

Mattheo chuckled and nestled against his shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, Teddy. You know we both benefit from her mischief. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

You smiled, ruffling Mattheo’s curls. “You’re absolutely right, Matty. Tonight, everyone will reap the rewards of my tricks. I concocted a special little potion that’ll make game night a little more interesting.”

Pansy raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What exactly does this little concoction of yours do, Y/N? The last time I drank something you brewed, I ended up streaking through the quidditch pitch.” 

“As I recall, I was right beside you, Pans.” Your friend chuckled, nodding in confirmation. “Consider this a social lubricant. It takes the edge off, makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. It’s the perfect balance between feeling tipsy and high. Lowers those pesky inhibitions.” 

Draco scoffed. “If this group lowers their inhibitions any further, we’d all be expelled.” 

“That’s why we have you, Dray. What good is the Malfoy fortune if it can’t bail us out of sticky situations?”

“Need I remind you that the last sticky situation almost ended with Enzo in the infirmary after Mattheo and Theo convinced him to race backwards on their brooms.”

Hermione watched the back and forth exchange, absorbing the interaction with a small smile. 

“Draco’s exaggerating, of course. Anyone would’ve missed the whomping willow in the dark.” The Golden Girl chuckled as you sent her a conspiratory wink, causing Draco to sigh in exasperation. “Besides, Berkshire had fun. Didn’t you, Enz?”

“Oh, loads. I had a blast pulling twigs from my arse for two hours straight afterwards.” 

“See? You’re not talking us into taking another one of your poisons, Y/N.”

Enzo shook his head. “Speak for yourself, cousin. I’m definitely in.”

The rest of your friends expressed their agreement. Even Blaise, who would never dream of drinking anything besides the finest vintage, was eager to participate. Mostly to see the others make a fool of themselves, which was perfectly fine by you.

Draco rolled his silver eyes. “Fine. You lot are going to end up talking me into it, anyways.”

“What about you, Hermione? Would you like a sip as well?”

Her warm, honey brown eyes darted around the room. Draco clasped her hand in his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I’m only agreeing because I don't want to have to take care of these heathens.”

You nodded empathically. “No pressure, Hermione. You can say no if you’d like, but I am rather proud of my little concoction and it would be an absolute honor if the golden girl partook in our debauchery. After all, you’re dating Draco. You might as well get used to it now.”

A mischievous grin pulled at Hermione’s lips. She shrugged nonchalantly, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Why the bloody hell not?” 

“That’s the spirit, Granger!” cheered Pansy. 

You smirked in response and slithered out of your boyfriend’s lap. Both Mattheo and Theo watched intently as you crawled across the plush ornate rug, slowly making your way towards the Gryffindor. Hermione sucked in a breath, her cheeks blossoming into a pretty blush. Her hands, which were laid in her lap in the most prim and proper way, twitched when you knelt before her on the sofa. 

Behind you, Mattheo mumbled something into Theo’s ear. When you glanced over your shoulder, your boyfriends were staring directly at you, anticipating your next move. You responded with an innocent smile before turning back to Hermione. 

With  a sly smile, you held her honey eyed gaze and tapped her bottom lip. “Open up, love.” 

Hermione swallowed thickly before parting her lips. You gently cradled her jaw before tipping the vial into her mouth, pouring a generous amount of potion for the golden girl. She looked up at you expectantly, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly. 

You rewarded her with a cheeky wink. “Good girl, Granger. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

She shook her head, the flush on her cheeks mimicking her house colors as you wiped a droplet of liquid off of her lips with your thumb. Beside her, Draco sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, stop putting the moves on my girlfriend.” 

“What’s the matter, Dray? Are you scared I’ll steal Hermione away from you?” 

“You can hardly blame me. You’re a shameless flirt, Y/N.” 

You placed a hand over your heart, feigning offense. “Why, I’d never dream of flirting with your lady. You know how jealous my boys get.” 

Your boyfriends shook their heads, clearly amused at your attempt to rile Draco up. Truly, your friend made it too easy. You chuckled as the blonde glared at you. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s your turn. Maybe the potion will loosen you up, yeah?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, but allowed you to pour the potion into his mouth. You moved down the line, doing the same for Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo. The latter grinned as you ruffled his hair. After Enzo, the only ones remaining were Theo and Mattheo. 

“Come here, cara mia.” Theo said, beckoning you with two fingers. “Mattheo and I are waiting.” 

“I saved the best for last, boys.” 

Mattheo smirked as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him, making yourself right at home. He kissed the side of your neck, smiling against your skin. “Go on, then. Don’t leave Theo hanging.” 

You nodded, body heating as Mattheo rubbed your thighs. Theo raised a brow, his watercolor eyes settling over you. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander. Your boyfriend looked rather casual in his emerald jumper and dark jeans, but there was something about the way that Theo carried himself that exuded sex appeal. The cocky smirk on his handsome face told you that he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

Theo cocked his head towards you and opened his mouth. You tipped the vial past his lips, admiring how plush and pouty they looked. Lust darkened your boyfriend’s watercolor eyes as he watched you through hooded lids. The potion dribbled off his chin, making you giggle. 

“Oops, I spilled.” You licked the remnants off, lapping up the liquid all the way to the corner of his lips. Mattheo’s fingers dug into your hips as you finished off your little show with a kiss. 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss. He didn’t take kindly to being teased. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, Theo groaned softly and slid his tongue into your mouth, giving you a filthy open-mouthed kiss before pulling away and winking. 

Across the room, Hermione flushed, her lips parting ever so slightly. “Oh,” she whispered softly. 

Mattheo chuckled, his laughter caressing your skin as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He turned you over in his lap and tapped his lips. “Me next, princess.” 

“Open wide, Matty.” 

“Funny. Usually I’m the one saying that to you.” 

Your friends groaned at the suggestive comment, but you only grinned in response. Mattheo parted his lips eagerly, not once breaking eye contact as he swallowed the potion. The intensity of his big, brown eyes made your hands shake, causing you to spill a few drops on your fingers. Your boyfriend took your middle and pointer finger into his mouth and sucked them clean. 

You gasped in surprise. Mattheo chuckled darkly, catching the vial before it slipped out of your fingers. Behind you, Theo tugged at your hair and titled your head back. 

“Your turn now, mi amor.” Mattheo drawled, his voice a seductive song in your ears. He lowered his voice, so only you could hear his next statement. “Be a good girl and swallow.” 

The eager nod made both of your boyfriends smirk. Theo gathered your hair in one hand, fisting your locks into a makeshift ponytail while Mattheo poured the last of the potion into your mouth. The liquid was strong and sweet, trailing down your throat and warming your body with a pleasant heat. 

“That’s my girl,” Mattheo said. Theo raised a brow, which made the curly headed boy laugh. “That’s our girl.” 

“Better,” Theo remarked before pulling you against him. 

You settled into his lap, watching the rest of your friends start a game of poker. As always, Draco was way too competitive. Blaise was hustling the hell out of him, but the blonde didn’t seem to notice. Pansy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders, leaning in every so often to whisper things in his ear that made him smile. 

Enzo reclined back on the couch, an endearing smile pulling at his lips as he took small sips of his firewhiskey. From his glazed eyes, you could tell that the potion was hitting him the hardest. 

Mattheo rested his head on your lap, tugging at your hand in a silent request to play with his curls. You obliged happily, scratching at his scalp and twirling his bouncy locks between your fingers. Every so often, he’d lean in and show you his cards, asking for advice. 

As the night progressed, the potion took its effects, loosening both lips and limbs. Theo’s long legs bracketed you from either side, the intoxicating scent of petrichor and cigarette smoke clinging onto him like your own personal drug. Mattheo stared lovingly up at you as you continued playing with his hair. 

When you looked up, you met Hermione’s inquiring gaze. She was leaned up against Draco, who kept an arm around her waist, absentmindedly drawing circles underneath her sweater. 

She cocked her head, a question forming in her brilliant mind. “So, how exactly does it work?” 

You leaned back against Theo’s chest, a playful smirk curving against your lips. “How does what work, love?” 

“Having…two boyfriends.” 

“You mean, being poly?” 

“Poly,” Hermione said, testing out the word. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her expression, just plain curiosity. Apparently, the Gryffindor girl’s innate hunger for knowledge extended to the intricacies of your relationship. “If you don’t mind me asking. How exactly does a poly relationship work?” 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s like every other relationship,” you started, glancing at your two favorite people in the world. Mattheo and Theo smiled back. “We go on dates, we argue about stupid things, then we kiss and make up. Except sometimes the boys like to gang up on me.” 

Theo chuckled. “I reckon ganging up against you is the most fun that we have, dolcezza.” 

“I’d have to agree with Teddy,” Mattheo interjected as he grinned up at you. “We give teamwork a whole new meaning. Don’t we, princess?” 

“See,” you said, waving your arms between your boyfriends. “These sassy men will be the death of me.” 

Theo wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck. “You love us though.” 

“That I do,” you replied with a smile. 

“Do any of you ever get jealous?” asked Hermione. 

Theo nodded. “Of course, it’s a natural part of every relationship, but we have ways of working it out.” Your boyfriend smiled and kissed your cheek. “We just make sure no one feels left out.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Mattheo’s forehead too.

Hermione hummed. “That sounds rather nice, actually.” 

“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Mattheo countered with a sly smile. “Y/N can get a little feisty sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to Lavender for touching my shoulder last week.” 

Theo nodded in agreement. “It’s nothing compared to the fight she had with Cho after she tried asking me out. Poor girl thought that polyamory equates to having an open relationship. As if I’d ever need anyone else besides Y/N and Mattheo.” 

“So polyamory doesn’t translate to opening your relationship to others,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’m learning so much.” 

Mattheo confirmed her statement with a nod. “Yes, we’re all very committed to one another. It’s only Y/N and Theo for me.” 

“While we all adore your wonderful little trio,” Draco cut in. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he would definitely not be open to sharing the golden girl with anyone else. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” 

You chuckled. “Such a party pooper, Malfoy. Don’t worry, Granger’s just asking for education purposes. Aren’t you, Mione?” 

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N. You’re devious, you know that?” 

Theo smirked at his oldest friend. “Don’t be jealous cause she has more game than you, Dray.” 

“After all, that’s how she got us. Right, princess?” 

Draco sighed exasperatedly. You rolled your eyes fondly before saying goodbye to everyone. Pulling Hermione into a hug, you winked behind her back as Draco glared at you. 

“Thank you for indulging me,” Hermione said softly. “I feel thoroughly educated now.” 

“No problem, Mione.” 

You kissed her cheek before wrapping Draco into a hug as well. “Stay sharp, Dray. You’ll have to work harder to keep up with this one. Granger’s way out of your league.” 

Draco smiled. “I’m well aware.” 

Later that night as you laid in bed sandwiched between Mattheo and Theo, you felt the potion reach its peak. You giggled into Theo’s neck, squealing as Mattheo pressed his cold feet against your legs. The three of you were chatting about your day like you usually did, but thanks to the potion, one of you always got sidetracked, leading into cuddles and kisses mid sentence.

Matty spooned you from behind, his possessive grip snaked around your waist like a vice. “I’m not going to lie, watching you crawl towards Granger tonight did something to me.” 

“That’s her game, mio amato. You know she loves to tease.” 

You turned over to face him, an amused smirk toying at your lips. “I thought you liked my little games, Teddy. At least your lower half did. I could feel you pressing against me all night.” 

Theo smirked, grinding his erection against your thigh. “Can you blame me? You knew exactly what you were doing. Admit it, cara mia. You weren’t cozying up to Hermione just to get under Draco’s skin. You were doing it to rile us up too.” 

“It worked. I’ve been hard as fuck all night. The way you teased Granger had me thinking vile thoughts.” 

“So I’m not enough for you, Matty?” You jested, pouting your bottom lip at your boyfriend. “You want Draco’s girl too?” 

Within the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath Mattheo with your arms raised above your head as your boyfriend glared down at you. “No. If anything, you’re the one flirting with Granger like Theo and I aren’t enough to handle already. Maybe we should remind you who you belong to.” 

You hummed in agreement, biting back a smile. “Hmm, maybe you’re right, querido. I’m not opposed to a little refresher.” 

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, bella. You just want to be railed until you cry, don’t you? Such a little brat. You could’ve just asked for what you wanted.”

You batted your lashes in response. “But it’s so much more fun this way.” 

As retaliation, Mattheo flipped you over on all fours. With a smirk, he leaned back on the headboard and pushed down his gray heathered sweatpants as Theo crawled behind you. He gave no warning as he bunched up your nightdress, pressing a filthy kiss against your clothed sex. You were dripping for him, coating his lips with your taste as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s lap. You groaned as Mattheo pumped himself between slender fingers, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips. He bucked into your mouth just as Theo plunged his tongue between your folds. 

“What was that, principessa?” Theo hummed against your aching cunt. “Matty and I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Mattheo laughed meanly as he gathered your hair in his fist, thrusting down your throat with a choked moan. “Put that smart mouth to work, sweetheart.” He thrust in lazily, barely giving you his tip. “Spit on it.” 

Glancing up at him through your lashes, you spit on Mattheo’s cock and watched as his head lolled against the headboard. “Teddy? Wanna give me a hand, pretty boy?”

With wide eyes, you gasped as Theo leaned over and pumped Mattheo in his hand before lining up his length against your lips. Theo kissed your cheek before shoving your head down to take inch after inch. Once Mattheo slid all the way in, he pulled out just to slam back in forcefully. You could feel Mattheo hitting the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex while he smirked in satisfaction. 

“Gonna shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, tears forming in your eyes as Mattheo continued to fuck your throat. As if that weren’t enough, Theo flicked his tongue on your clit and feasted on you from behind like a starved man. He took his sweet time, sloppily making out with your pussy and lapping up your arousal before slipping a finger inside, pumping you as you gagged on Mattheo’s cock. You groaned as Theo pried your legs apart, his intense gaze never leaving your face as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Hooking your right leg over his shoulder, Theo began licking and teasing, his tongue flicking through your folds with expert precision. He sucked hard, lapping your juices up with fervent devotion. 

The potion increased the sensations tenfold, intensifying your pleasure as you bucked against Theo’s face. It seems that your less than innocent academic pursuit had truly paid off because both Theo and Mattheo seemed to be affected just as much. The current of the concoction surged through all three of you, slamming you with wave after wave of heady desire. It felt better than drunk sex or fucking while you were high. This was just unbridled lust and want, flooding you with the need to be nothing but an obedient fuck toy for your favorite boys. 

Mascara streaked down your cheeks as you cried out for more, fisting the sheets as your boyfriends occupied both of your needy holes. The cries of pleasure were muffled around Mattheo’s cock. Your boyfriend’s breathing grew ragged and his grip grew tighter, his abs rippling as he shot hot ribbons down your throat. 

“Good girl. So fucking beautiful, swallowing every drop of my cum like a perfect little whore. You’re flawless, Y/N.”

Theo made quick work of you afterwards. Warmth spread from your core, hot tendrils snaking all over your body as he pushed you to your first orgasm of the night. When Theo crooked his middle and pointer finger inside your gummy walls, you squirted into his mouth with a cry. Despite your cries of pleasure, Theo showed no signs of stopping. His cool breath fanned over your sensitive sex and you whimpered at his ravenous appetite, squirming away from Theo’s tongue. Displeased, Theo flipped you onto your back and dragged you towards him by the ankles. 

“I’m not done with you, tesoro.” 

Your boyfriend growled and glanced at Mattheo. “Hold her down,” Theo commanded, his pretty eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re done when I say you’re done. Sit back, look pretty, and let me eat your pussy until you’re sobbing. I’ll make you feel so good, bella. Surely you have another one in you, don’t you, Y/N?” 

You nodded, still reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm. Mattheo placed you on his lap, prying your lips open with his fingers. “Theo asked you a question, princess. Use your words.” 

Theo smirked. “Give her a minute. I think I’ve fucked her so dumb with my mouth and fingers that she can’t even form a sentence.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mattheo said with a chuckle. He caressed your jaw, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Don’t you want to cum again, sweetheart? Either way, you don’t really have a choice. Theo’s going to feast on you no matter what you say. You know he hates being teased.”

“I can take it,” you said in a shaky voice. “I’ll be good, I promise. I just want to make you both proud.” 

Theo smiled, revealing the dimples you loved so much. “I know you do, Y/N. We’re not stopping until you’ve soaked the sheets. Now come on, be a good girl and sit on my face.”

You swallowed thickly as Theo switched places with you, laying back on Mattheo’s lap while bringing your hips forward. Steadying yourself on Mattheo’s shoulder, you slowly lowered onto Theo’s face. You grinded against him slowly at first, minding your sensitive sex, but it wasn’t long before you were bucking into his mouth, riding his face like you’d ride his cock.

There was no other word to describe Theo but feral. He gorged himself on you, poking and prodding your wet cunt with his tongue and fingers until your head fell onto Mattheo’s neck, gasping against his skin while Theo’s fingers dug into your hips. You groaned as Mattheo kissed you roughly, whimpering at the overwhelming pressure already building in your core. 

As your moans and screams grew louder and louder, Mattheo gagged your mouth with his fingers, shoving his middle and pointer finger past your lips in an attempt to muffle the noise. 

“Are you trying to wake the whole castle up, princess?” 

“Let her,” Theo said, chuckling darkly as he wrapped his lips around your clit. “Let the whole castle hear what a desperate little slut she is for us.” 

You groaned as Theo picked up the pace, fucking you with his tongue until you were coming undone in his mouth. The second orgasm was an out of body experience. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came with a cry. You could’ve sworn that you went to heaven and back.

As you collapsed backwards into Theo’s arms, your boyfriend grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. The taste of you lingered on his tongue and your eyes rolled back as Theo’s lips claimed yours. He chuckled when you chased his kisses. 

“Don’t be greedy, pretty girl. Matty wants a taste too.” 

Your lips parted in surprise as Theo grabbed the back of Mattheo’s head and kissed him hard, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and they both groaned. Theo smiled into the kiss, savoring the taste. He patted Mattheo’s cheek before pulling you into his lap. 

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Theo cooed, caressing your cheek and rewarding you with neck kisses. “I love when you ride my face. You’re fucking perfect. I’m so proud of you, pretty girl.” 

“Don’t go all soft now, cariño.” Mattheo teased, licking away the remnants of you from the corner of his mouth. “We’re only getting started. We haven’t even fucked her yet.” 

Theo smiled down at you, wiping away the mascara streaks clinging to your cheeks. “Then by all means. Finish the job you started, Matty.”

“I intend to,” Mattheo replied as he loomed over you.

With a wink, Theo spread your legs apart and presented your sopping wet cunt to Mattheo like a present. He reached down and rubbed his middle and pointer finger against your clit, holding your hips in place as you arched off the bed. 

“Look at that. Pretty little pussy’s all nice and wet for us,” Theo said with a chuckle. “You’re so eager, aren’t you? So insatiable, dolcezza. Maybe Mattheo and I should give you a double dose. Fuck you at the same time.” 

“Yes,” you breathed, mewling as Theo continued rubbing lazy circles against your clit. “Please, please, I need it.” 

“Just a cockhungry little slut. You’re fucking greedy, mi amor. Begging for both of our cocks. Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give you what you want. Fill you up like you need.” 

You whimpered in response as Mattheo manhandled you, pushing your face into the pillows while he lifted your perky arse in the air. He kneaded your ass, rubbing his cock along your folds. When you grinded against him for more, Mattheo’s palm landed on your right cheek with a hard smack. As you looked behind you, Theo winked before slapping your left cheek. The sting of his palm burned against your skin, making your eyes water. 

“What’s the matter, bella? I thought you wanted to play.”

“I do,” you breathed, gripping the sheets. “Please, Teddy. I need more. Spank me harder.” 

“Dirty girl,” Theo said fondly. “Ask and you shall receive.” 

As his palm came down on your ass over and over again, you gasped for breath, chasing air while Mattheo lined himself up at your entrance. Theo leaned down to kiss the handprints on your arse, biting softly and embedding his mark onto your skin before mirroring Mattheo’s actions. Theo teased against your puckering hole and nodded at the curly headed boy beside him. 

He placed a soft kiss on Mattheo’s lips. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Mattheo responded with a grin. 

You braced yourself to take both of them, gripping the sheets while they filled you simultaneously. It was a tight fit and you could feel both of your boyfriends stretching your walls.

“Such a good girl,” Theo groaned, moving slowly so you could adjust to his girth. “Letting Matty and I stretch you wide open. Fuck, I love being inside of you. It feels like fucking heaven, tesoro.”

Mattheo groaned in agreement. “Your pussy’s so wet. Does it turn you on to be ruined like this?” You cried in pleasure, mewling as Mattheo took Theo’s hand and placed it on your lower abdomen. “Feel that, mi corazón. Can you feel me fuck her deep, rearranging her insides?” 

“Merda, you two are going to be the death of me.” Theo said, his dead eyes rolling back. “Fuck me, I could cum just watching Matty move inside of you, Y/N.” 

As the two of them moved in sync, you gasped and panted, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation. There were so many sensations all at once, overloading your senses, making you writhe and whimper while your boyfriends ruined you. Mattheo tilted your chin, praises dripping from his lips, sweat slicked skin glimmering a pretty golden shade in the dim light. 

The hard planes of his abdominal muscles rippled while he fucked you from behind, grasping at the base of your throat until you were gasping for air. “Who’s pussy is this?” Mattheo growled into your ear, his curls tickling your cheek while he released a ragged breath. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?” 

“You and Theo,” you breathed. “Only you and Theo.” 

Theo smiled at your answer, lacing your fingers together. “That’s right, principessa. You’re ours to love, to fuck, to worship. Don’t forget that.” 

“Oh gods,” you moaned, gripping Theo’s hand while wrapping your fingers around the hand that Mattheo had around your neck. “I’m yours and you’re both mine.” 

“Damn fucking right,” Mattheo said with a sharp thrust. 

As Mattheo’s breathing grew more ragged, you and Theo both knew that he would succumb first. Theo fisted Mattheo’s curls in one hand and pulled him in for a filthy kiss, swallowing the cry that left his lips as he came inside of you. The sensation of him filling you up was too much to handle and the orgasm rocked your body, making your limbs seize as that familiar white hot heat blinded your senses. 

Theo was the last to cum, pulling out of your sensitive hole so that Mattheo could wrap his lips around his cock. His endurance was rewarded with vulgar noises as Mattheo gripped his hips in place and sucked him dry.

When your third and final orgasm ran its course, you found yourself laying flat on your back, blinking back up at the ceiling as you regained control of your senses. Through the haze, you blinked and found Theo and Mattheo fussing over you, casting a cleansing spell and wiping your damp forehead with a clean cloth. With a smile, they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks before tucking you safely between them. You hummed, placing a gentle kiss on both of their foreheads. 

“You know you two are all I need, right?” 

Your boyfriends both nodded, curling against you. “Of course, mi corazón.” 

“You’re all we need too, cuore mio.”

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[0wlettie]

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, under-negotiated kink

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked)

Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world. 

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he’d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place. 

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.” 

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing. 

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down. 

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all? 

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim���but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so. 

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?” 

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead. 

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go. 

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you. 

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen! 

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact. 

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp jut of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?” 

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now. 

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours. 

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.” 

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him. 

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll. 

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs. 

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it. 

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you’ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat. 

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine. 

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Gideon’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?” 

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?” 

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious. 

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you. 

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?” 

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his neck as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’ll look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth and cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.” 

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?” 

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccupping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccupping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you. 

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do. 

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

[xxmcr05xx]

Angel | Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Bucky's been in a two-month secret relationship with his secretary.

Warnings/Contains: Smut, porn with feelings, boss/secretary relationship, congressman Bucky, office sex, desk sex, age difference, rough sex, doggy style, spit kink, dirty talk, masturbation, spanking, dry humping, nipple play, cunnilingus, overstimulation

WC: 2,895

Posted on: 07/06/25, also on AO3!

Title Song: Angel - Massive Attack

Author's Note: Shoutout to @siriuslyjam this is for u bbg. Inspired a lot by The Secretary (2002).

18+ MDNI!!!

Divider by @nicodefresas

Being a congressman was hard - having a gorgeous secretary was harder. 

"Fucking hell, F/N," Bucky panted out, he slapped his secretary's ass harder as he fucked her from behind on the desk, "you're such a messy girl... oh God." The younger woman looked back, tears rolling down her soft cheeks - make up ruined as Bucky slammed inside of her.

She gripped the table tighter, keeping eye-contact with the older man, "Need you! Oh my God, I need you, Sir."

Two months ago, Bucky was stressed out of his mind - his secretary, F/N, had come to help.

Bucky stared at the paperwork in front of him, piles and piles of complaints and changes that had to be done. But he didn't care much about that, he was on his own mission to get Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. However, all this government work given to him was too much, and as arrogant as he was - he knew that he needed a secretary. After two weeks of trying to find the perfect secretary, he found her.

She was a year out of college, at a soft age of twenty-three. A very soft-looking girl, but he knew that she had a lot of potential. She was proficient in first-aid and self-defense. A bit dorky, but Bucky liked that.

He liked a lot of things about her.

Bucky was sitting at his desk when F/N came in, she had been called back by congressman James Barnes that she had gotten the job as his secretary. The woman squealed with excitement as she walked into his office, at his chair, Bucky was sorting through his paperwork. "Welcome back, F/N," Bucky greeted with a seldom facial expression, "take a seat," he offered, looking over at the chair in front of his desk. F/N sat down, placing her handbag on the floor and her hands tucked politely in her lap.

"Before we start talking, I'll need your technology - smartwatches, cellular devices... you get the point," He continued, opening his hand out. F/N was confused for a sec, but supposed that it was normal since he was a politician; she nodded and reached for her handbag, which held had only her phone.

Bucky grabbed the phone from her hand and shut it off, placing it on top of his desk, "Hey!" F/N pouted as he took her phone away.

"Sorry," he whispered, he looked back up at her with a serious face, "what you're going to sign and hear about is secret, and I don't need anything being leaked out," he explained further, F/N huffed but nodded in agreement.

'What was so top-secret?'

He grabbed some files from his desk and placed them in front of her, "Here's are your paperwork that needs to be signed," he explained at first, sliding it to her with a black pen, "furthermore, I need to explain some stuff to you." F/N was looking through the conditions that she had to follow and the contract that needed signing when he started, which made her ears perk in excitement. He waited until she was finished reading and signing until he explained further.

The man grabbed one more sheet and slid it to her, "As you'd probably know, I used to be part of a team of... heroes," Bucky cringed internally at the phrasing, "and they disappeared. This lady, Valentina is trying to make a new group of people and I'm trying to stop her," Bucky spoke quietly, F/N shifted in her seat nervously, but nodded.

"And I've been mainly focusing on that, being sort of 'undercover' as a congressman to be closer to her. Unfortunately, I've got a lot of work that I need done - and that's where you come in," Bucky explained, "that also means you'd be coming with me, as I see you have some first-aid knowledge and can defend yourself. But don't worry, I'll compensate you if you're injured."

F/N had a blank expression on her face, "O-Oh okay, um..." F/N pursed her lips and looked away nervously, "I'll be okay." Bucky hummed and gestured to the last paper.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement. I really need you to sign this so that you legally can't spread any news out. You need to promise me that you'll keep my work a secret."

The woman nodded, her hand slightly shaking as she signed the NDA.

"Now, let's get to business with these papers!"

Weeks went by after that, being Bucky's secretary was hard work, but the pay and experience was all worth it in the end. However, their friendly relationship took a turn when Bucky got furious.

"FUCK!" Bucky shouted in his office, visibly distressed and angry as he threw around his files, hands in his face. F/N walked awkwardly in the room, watching what her boss was doing.

F/N smiled towards Bucky, who was infuriated, "You- You okay, sir?" F/N asked softly, sweat slightly dripping down her forehead. The congressman shook his head and breathed in deeply, then out.

"I just... stupid fucking politicians," Bucky explained vaguely, he sat down at his desk and held his head in his hands, "I just want to explode..." he mumbled, he felt betrayed and angered. F/N looked over empathetically and moved closer to the man, sitting in front of him at his desk.

"Is there anything I could do to help you out, sir?" F/N asked, her tone was genuine which panged in Bucky's heart. The older man looked up at her with one eye, his other covered by his hair.

He was full of questions.

"Anything?"

"Anything, sir."

The next thirty minutes, Bucky's office was full of moans and dirty-talk.

Bucky had F/N up against the desk, her back spread over his paperwork and files as his cock pounded through her viciously. "Like this fucking cock, huh? Like- Like how I fuck you so hard all over my desk?" Bucky asked, spit was flying out of his mouth and his eyes shot through F/N's own. The younger woman nodded, she couldn't even think straight as her boss' cock slid against her walls.

"S-Sirrr! Oh my God- Ugh fuck, please fuck me harder!" She whined out loudly, Bucky looked back down at her with dominating eyes, he leaned down and moaned loudly, kissing her neck harshly. Saliva was sticking out from his mouth and onto her neck but he didn't care - he just wanted to mark her.

Bucky whined out again, he kissed down her clavicle and to her tits, they were spilling out her lacey white bra as he fucked her. Almost at an instant, his lips attached to her chest, sucking on it harshly and moaning; he was about to cum at any moment.

Their affair has been going on for two months now.

Those months went by fast now and Bucky was close to completing his goal - Valentina was going to be impeached.

Bucky bounced his leg nervously as he read the news on the T.V. He was happy, but at the same time extremely upset - he knew that he'd have to let go F/N. He peered over to the secretary and sighed softly, she looked so happy typing up letters and fixing that pretty hair of hers. The man looked straight at F/N and cleared his throat, "F/N, can you come over here, please," Bucky asked, fixing his posture.

The woman stopped typing for a second and looked over at her boss, she smiled and got up, walking over to the desk and sitting down on the chair, "What's up, sir?" F/N asked.

"I'm... I'm almost at the end of my goal, Valentina's going to be impeached soon and I'm going to quit after that," he explained, "that means in a few weeks, I'm going to have to let you go."

F/N blinked a few times with a blank face before nodding, "Y-Yeah I um, saw that in the contract," she looked down, "just a shame, sir. I really do like you- as a boss of course!" F/N quickly added, which made Bucky laugh.

"Well, I've been very impressed with your defense skills, and I see potential in you. If you'd like, I'd love to train you," Bucky offered with an awkward half-smile. F/N gasped and smiled, taking Bucky's hands into hers.

"Ooh yes, sir! I'd love to train with you!" F/N exclaimed with a grin.

Bucky coughed awkwardly and nodded, moving his hands away from hers. "I'm glad..." he muttered, he sat up straight and stared back at her, "we..." his voice got quieter now, his facial expression softened - he knew he'd regret his next choice of words. "We should stop what we've been doing, F/N. It's not healthy, I'm your boss and I've been taking advantage of you like this," he mumbled, playing with his shirt-sleeve nervously.

F/N let out a small breath and nodded, she was visibly hurt but knew that this would happen eventually, "That's okay, sir. I understand," she replied back, "but... if I may ask: can we do it one last time, please?" F/N begged, she had this look in her eyes that Bucky couldn't resist, pulling him in like a siren.

"F/N..."

"Please, sir!" F/N stood up, slamming her hands on the desk, "Just give me one last chance to be touched by you in this way, then we can go back to our old dynamic!"

Bucky hated their old dynamic.

He jerked off everyday that he saw her; her ass was impeccable in that skirt of hers. He was jealous of everyone that saw her in the morning, they probably wanted a piece of her too, but they couldn't - F/N was his.

"Fine... one last time but that's it," Bucky replied, voice low and dangerous - he was going to fuck her like it was the last time that he saw her. F/N smiled and sat on the desk, already knowing how they'd fuck, however, Bucky shook his head and twirled his fingers around, gesturing her to turn around. It was new.

F/N moved positions so that she was facing the desk again, Bucky kept his eyes imprinted on F/N as he made his way behind her, "Lean over," Bucky muttered, staring right at her ass. F/N followed his instructions and bent forward on the desk, keeping her arms level with her shoulders. Bucky licked his dry lips and moved forward, his hands made their way to her ass, rubbing it softly.

"Gonna miss spanking this fucking ass," Bucky confessed, his voice was gravelly, he moved his hand underneath her skirt and reached the top of her tights, ripping them open and down her legs. He felt his breath hitch as he stared straight at her panties - his favourite purple lacy pair. Bucky's middle and index finger slowly massaged F/N's clothed cunt, reveling in the sounds of her moans - he could clearly see a wet spot growing where he touched her.

He wanted to be slow but he wanted her cunt desperately.

The former soldier placed a soft kiss on his secretary's clothed cunt before unbuckling his belt, he let it drop to the floor as he unbuttoned his pants and wriggled it off - kicking away the clothing right after. He placed his hands back onto F/N's hips, grinding his clothed boner over her aroused cunt.

"You feel so good on me, F/N," Bucky whined out, his eyes were closed in pleasure. F/N whimpered out and nodded, whispering a small thank you as the man kneeled down to his knees. He feathered kisses over her thighs before reaching her cunt, he used his teeth to pull her panties right down to her ankles.

Bucky was a nature-lover.

He loved the view that Mother Nature was showing him right now.

"Wow..." Bucky whispered in admiration, "you're just as beautiful every time I see you."

Was he talking to her or her cunt? F/N had no idea, but she loved it.

Bucky gave her exposed cunt a couple of wet kisses - which made F/N whimper - before licking a long stripe on her cunt. F/N immediately bit her lip, but let out a loud muffled moan. The licks continued at an awfully teasing rate, Bucky's tongue was deep inside of her, his metal arm at the same time rubbing her clit. F/N covered her mouth with her hand, eyes tightly shut at the immense pleasure she was feeling.

"Hhguhhh- sir..." F/N drew out, "it's too much!"

The man shook his head - he knew she could take it.

He knew because she was a good girl.

Bucky continued his tongued-attack on the poor girl, he was breathing in as much as he could of her cunt because he didn't know if he'd ever get it again. Her smell was irresistible to Bucky, surely cum was an aphrodisiac.

F/N's legs were twitching, Bucky knew that she was going to cum soon and he wanted it bad.

The congressman's tongue licked deeper inside of her, one hand on her thigh and the other rubber her clit, the pressure was too much for F/N who was crying. He wish that he could of seen her cry - it was his favourite scene. Bucky was imagining how she'd look right now, whether she had a huge grin on her face or if she had snot running down her nose and tears welling up in her beautiful eyes.

"Go- Gonna cum, Bucky-" F/N cried out, "please please please. I need to cum," she gripped her recently-done acrylic nails, Bucky had given her the money to get it done, told her to get his favourite shade of purple. Bucky nodded against F/N's thighs, he let out a soft groan - F/N's thighs were squeezing against him.

With the help if his fingers and tongue, F/N finally came, her juices were all over his tongue and fingers and Bucky was addicted. He moved away from her cunt and stood up immediately, he pulled his boxers off as fast as he could and prepared to fuck her. He jerked off his thick cock for a few strokes before holding her ass with one hand, his cock pushed through her cunt so easily - so loose for him.

"Oh fuck..." Bucky hissed out.

He'd never get tired to the feeling of her cunt.

F/N let out a loud moan in her hands, she was overstimulated from her previous orgasm. "You feel so good, F/N," Bucky huffed out, taking a moment to rest, "can't live without this cunt. I need it for the rest of my life," he whined, rubbing her ass cheek gently before slapping it. She let out another hard moan, "Yeah you like that? You like me slapping that ass of yours?" he asked, making F/N nod her head profusely.

The man started to pick up the pace now, her loose cunt was absolutely filled to the brim. Bucky leaned forward and rested his head on F/N's shoulder blade, kissing and marking it with his teeth as he fucked her harder. His hands groped her ass so tightly, it felt like dough in his hands.

"Fucking hell, F/N," Bucky panted out, he slapped his secretary's ass harder as he fucked her from behind on the desk, "you're such a messy girl... oh God." The younger woman looked back, tears rolling down her soft cheeks - make up ruined as Bucky slammed inside of her.

She gripped the table tighter, keeping eye-contact with the older man, "Need you! Oh my God, I need you, Sir."

"Y-Yeah you want this?"

"I do sir! Oh God," F/N whined out, tears continuing to roll down her face, "I'm your secretary! I'm your secretary!" she screamed.

Bucky couldn't hold it in anymore, he could feel his cock twitching and then he came.

His cum was filling her up, his warm, white cum.

"Look at me," Bucky groaned out, he lazily was rubbing her clit now, slowly fucking his cum deeper inside of her to help her reach her orgasm. He leaned forward, unexpectedly kissing her - F/N whimpered softly.

They never kissed.

Bucky just wanted to taste her sopping mouth.

The pair closed their eyes as they kissed, enjoying the feeling of slowly fucking.

Then Bucky moved out of her, panting extremely loudly. He ran his hands through his hair to fix it a bit, pulling up his pants and putting his belt back on. The two were quiet but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was calm and hot. Bucky helped F/N clean up after that, offering her a towel to wipe herself up with.

After their affair, they sat in silence on the floor. Bucky wanted to look at her, but was upset, "I'm gonna miss this," Bucky whispered, playing with the sleeve of his shirt, F/N looked over at Bucky sadly. She moved her hand over his knee and rubbed it.

"It's okay, sir. I'll still be here for you."

Bucky felt warm.

He looked back at F/N and smiled sadly and did something he's never really done in ages - he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Stay with me forever."

"Yes, sir."

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[inkdrinkerworld]

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table. 

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back. 

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply. 

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.” 

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you. 

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested. 

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest. 

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before. 

Not that you’d wanted to know. 

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you. 

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords. 

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have. 

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you. 

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent. 

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone. 

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head. 

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. 

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space. 

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown. 

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches. 

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother. 

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth. 

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?” 

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.” 

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle. 

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him. 

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.” 

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?” 

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.” 

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping. 

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.” 

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.

[xxchumanixx]

May I please request a fic where the reader (who's a famous singer) falls in love with Tim but is reluctant to fully trust and be vulnerable with him due to bad experiences she's had with men in the past? The reader could eventually write and sing a song about her love for Tim which blows up and even wins awards like Grammys too which makes their relationship stronger and she opens up her heart more? 🥺

Be myself

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of physical abuse / hitting (please look for help if you're in an abusive relationship! Being abused is not normal and it shouldn't be simply endured and viewed as it) Word count: 2.421 Authors note: I don't know if I used the gif before (probably did), but it just fits perfectly. I know you linked Whats love got to do with it by our legend Tina, but I kinda didn't vibe with it. I hope you'll still like it, though (if it was even meant for reference to the song the reader writes). I'm in no way a songwriter, so I'm not at all sure about that small part i wrote there. I know I posted a sneak peak for something different, but this gave me so much motivation to write so i put it first. Enjoy!

He didn't know how he ended up with you of all people.

Not that he'd complain.

Never.

But a famous singer like you and a cop like him? It had to be fate that brought you together when him and his rookie had been called to deescalate a situation at a concert of yours.

He didn't expect to fall for you - hell, you probably didn't either. It just kinda happened after you gave him your number before him and his rookie left.

It had been meant more like a joke - yet he hadn't been able to get you out of his head and neither did you. So he texted you.

Three weeks later you went on your first date.

You had been cautious, bad experiences with previous boyfriends and dates branding you more than you'd have liked to admit.

And so you didn't.

The date went great, leading to another one shortly after.

Tim swore you were playing some magic trick on him. The speed in which he fell for you was shocking. In a few weeks you had him wrapped around your finger.

It didn't take long for him to admit his feelings to you, saying he'd understand if you weren't ready for anything yet, and as he rambled on, you'd cut him off with a kiss.

Because you were indeed ready.

At least that's what you thought.

Not that you didn't have feelings for him - you had, and they were strong. You just had trouble letting yourself be too open, too vulnerable.

To trust easily.

Though, right from the start, you knew he was different. He was interested in your career, yes, but in a way that didn't profit him or made him want to brag about his girlfriend being famous.

Or try and hit you if you didn't spend all your money on him. It had happened once, leaving a mark on your soul you had trouble getting rid of. Getting rid of the douchebag wasn't exactly easy, either.

But that was another thing.

No, Tim supported you, took days off to watch your concerts and be there for you. And maybe to have the time of his life with you in your wardrobe backstage.

For a while now, you had been working on a project - a new song that one day came to your mind when you thought about the past few months and your relationship with Tim.

It had almost been a year now, and you started to question whether your cautiousness was misplaced.

Not that you didn't trust him.

You trusted him more than you did any other man you'd been with, it just was like a habit of sorts. Some sort of protection your mind had put up in the beginning.

It wasn't easy to let that guard down.

It was one of the main parts you included in that song. How he made you want to be more open, to trust and give up that control you so desperately held onto.

To love without the constant fear of it all going downhill.

Your producer, Savannah, supported you all the way. You wrote your song, recorded it over and over again until you were a hundred percent convinced that it did Tim justice in a way.

Or rather his love for you. The way he never treated you differently even though you were famous.

Sure, there were times when his face would be plastered along magazine articles alongside yours - especially the beginning hadn't been easy.

Hiding a relationship wasn't easy and it certainly didn't work in this case, either. The first time it happened it had been on Instagram.

Someone had seen you and him together, taking a video and posting it for everyone to see. Once it reached a certain amount of views, it spread like wildfire, and everyone knew.

Tim wasn't very happy about it.

He understood that it was part of your life, but he didn't like it - and that included him - plastered all over the internet.

When you were shopping and hoarded by paparazzi or too many fans and he'd notice you were overwhelmed, he'd play the 'I'm a cop, please stand back' card, effectively getting you out of the situation.

Another thing you loved him for.

He didn't thrive on the constant attention, didn't suck it up like a sponge and used it to his advantage. Not like other men had tried to do before.

So why was it so hard to let go? Why was it so hard to trust, to let yourself be too vulnerable?

When you published the song, Tim had yet to hear it.

Yes, maybe you should have let him listen to it before publishing it, but you were too nervous. Too nervous he'd laugh at you, tell you that you were crazy for writing and publishing that song.

It would have also meant he'd question the origin - why you had such trust issues, had these problems of opening up.

You didn't want to be judged. After all, you still hadn't told him about it.

Only a few days later, you and Tim were driving in his truck home, when suddenly, the radio moderator announced your new song. Tim's gaze snapped to you - normally you'd show him your upcoming projects, talk to him about them.

He didn't know you'd just published a new song.

Your cheeks heated up as he stared at you in confusion before his gaze fixed back on the street. You knew he was listening, picking up on the lyrics.

Another thing you loved about him.

He didn't just hear the songs, he listened to them. Analyzing them, understanding them.

So it was no surprise he did understand this song, too. About a minute into the song he parked in his driveway, killing the engine but leaving the radio on.

You nibbled on your lip nervously, heart beating wildly as you tried to make out his reaction. You couldn't read his thoughts, so you had to rely on his body language.

And when he understood the song was about him, his gaze snapped to yours right as the second chorus hit.

You let me be myself, and I thank you for that.

You ban all the bad thoughts from my head.

No matter how hard I try, I can't find anything bad about you.

And I hope you see me like that, too.

You support me, give me strength,

It is wrong to hold you at arms length.

I love you and I hope you see,

that your're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You swallowed, not interrupting him as he listened to the rest of the song. This certainly hadn't been how you'd planned this.

Sure, you wanted him to know about the song and all the things it expressed sooner or later, but when you published it, the thought of him hearing it that soon hadn't exactly crossed your mind.

When the song ended and the next came up, he immediately turned the radio off.

He stared at you, shocked, surprised.

In awe.

You bit your lip as his own parted, though nothing came out. His head tilted slightly, thinking.

"Is it true?" was the first thing he asked. "Or is it just... I don't know, a random love song?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. "No, it's not a random love song." you said. "It... It's about you, Tim."

He nodded slightly, still shocked. "What about the- the trust issues you talk about? Or sing, for that matter." he inquired further. "Or the 'keeping at arms length'?"

You swallowed, sighing quietly as you looked away. "It's all true, yes." you admitted quietly. "And I know I should have told you, and I know you're having a lot of questions right now, but... I'm sorry."

Tim leaned forward over the middle console and placed his finger under your chin to lift your head, his blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." he said, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, it would be nice to know the details behind it, but I understand that you didn't tell me. Or show me the song beforehand, for that matter. It's great, by the way - just like everything else about you."

You blushed, suddenly feeling undeserving of him. He was way too caring and understanding.

"I mean, I assumed some things..." he continued, tilting his head from side to side for a moment. "But I never pushed you to tell me. And I won't now. Neither did you on the subject of Isabel. If you want to tell me, I'm happy to listen, but you don't have to. Just know that I feel incredibly honored and love you."

Tears burned in your eyes, and suddenly, you knew you could trust him with everything. No more keeping him at arms length.

"I love you, too." you breathed out, smiling through the tears. "I just- I don't know." you shook your head in sudden embarrassment. "Ever since I got famous all the men seemed to want the same thing. Fame, my face as their way into Hollywood. To brag about their girlfriend being famous and make themselves look more important. Or try and hit me for not spoiling them like the ungrateful bitch I am." you grimaced, and his eyes widened before they narrowed. "I know you aren't like that, I do. I just couldn't shake this... habit of closing myself off and trying to avoid another one of these situations. I'm sorry, Tim. I know you are better than them. That song is about you and it is supposed to express how I feel about you."

Tim smiled, cupping your face with his hands. "You're so much more than your career, Y/N." he told you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You're a caring, beautiful and brilliant woman. You're far more than I deserve yet I'm too selfish to ever let you go. I love you more than you can imagine, and I want you to know that I'd never try to get any fame or benefits or whatever from you or your career. Let alone lay a hand on you. I love you too much to risk us - not that I'd need your fame or money. I'm a cop and I love being a cop. My girlfriend just happens to be an amazing singer."

You laughed quietly, blushing more. His words spread a warmth through you like no one else ever did. "You're flattering me." you mumbled sheepishly. He cocked a brow. "I'm not." he said. "You are an amazing singer. You're amazing in general, all over."

You laughed once more, a smile on your lips. "You're way too good for me, Tim Bradford." you said. "I'm the one not deserving you."

He huffed, tilting his head from side to side again. "Debatable." he said. He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. "Come on, let's head inside." he mumbled against them. "I want to celebrate this song."

It had been about two weeks until your song seemed to have gained massive popularity, and when the letter landed in the mail weeks later, you screamed.

Tim had rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn as he tried to find out what happened. When he saw you with the letter in hand, pressing a hand to your mouth, he lowered the gun, stepping beside you.

One look at the letter and his lips parted.

You looked up in your excitement, almost headbutting him where he was looking over your shoulder. "Tim-" you breathed out, cutting yourself off with another squeal. He grimaced at the high sound, though laughing as he moved to hug you from behind.

"Baby, that's amazing." he breathed out. "I'm so proud of you." You bit your cheek, heart pounding wildly. "I- I mean, I haven't won anything yet." you said, fingers trembling as they held the letter. "But..." "But you're nominated." Tim finished for you. "That's more than most can wish for. This is amazing, Y/N. God, I'm so proud of you."

You smiled widely, clutching the letter to your chest. You giggled and jumped up and down in his arms, pressing a hand to your lips. Tim laughed quietly, holding tighter onto you, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. In the last few weeks you'd grown even closer, and it all felt more right than ever.

"Told you you're amazing."

Nervous wasn't word enough to describe your current state.

The Grammys.

The fucking Grammys.

Never would you have thought this would happen. Who would have thought you'd make it this far?

Fidgeting with your small clutch nervously, you took a deep, trembling breath. Tim grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You'll be okay.

The wait had been torture.

Waiting for the day to come, waiting for the announcements. It was like a dream come true, yet the wait left you on edge.

You'd been nominated for single of the year. Your song about Tim Be Myself had literally exploded, landing you a spot at the Grammys.

You inhaled shakily as the nominees were announced before the moderator opened an envelope. She drew it out, making the anticipation rise higher and higher until your heart suddenly slammed to a stop.

"Best single of the year goes to... Be Myself!" Your lips parted, not believing what just happened. Tim cheered, the crowd applauded, and you got up on shaky legs.

You couldn't believe it.

This was more than you could have ever wished for, and as Tim pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you the biggest, most proudest smile you'd ever seen on him before he ushered you to the stage, you knew it.

You knew he was the one.

He was the one that treated you right. The one that loved you unconditionally.

And you'd be forever grateful for that.

Tag List

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhundhchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @caplanbuckybarnes @sacredwarrior88

[krispdreemurr]

They don't remember this.

What they have is patchwork, fragments. The dark under the trees. The chain or tail or string around her leg. The way they'd held onto her hand, tried to pull her up.

The way that, suddenly, there had been nothing to hold.

There had been nothing to hold with.

Their memories regain order and sense hours later, laying half-frozen in a snowbank as people yelled and rushed around them.

They had tilted their head, a little, and looked at their hand.

In the predawn light, it had looked gray.

—

There’s a shape their hand remembers.

They sketch a shape again and again, even though they can't even make out what it's meant to be. Their hand traces lines in the air, on loop. Even as they try to wash it clean, even as they try to will it to stop, the shape keeps coming back again and again.

The people they talk to after drawing ask them to explain what it is they're drawing, and they try.

The words never come.

They just keep sketching the same shape in the air.

—

There's a song their hand remembers.

They're at Noelle’s again, half-waiting for her mom to get home so they can talk about the latest phone call, half-hoping that she never comes by at all.

They try to play with her. They try to have fun the way they used to. But they keep circling back to what they know, what they did, the fragments in the dark, the duet that won't come because they–

Sometimes the piano helps.

It doesn't today.

As they sit in front of the keys, staring at them, their hand lifts. Presses four notes, twice over. Shifts a little deeper. Plays the sequence again, twice. Shifts back up. Repeats.

It's a little nice. It's like stimming. It at least works out some of the nervous energy.

But they don't know where the notes are from.

It's easy to keep playing them, at least, and so they sink into that for a little while.

—

There's a trick their hand remembers.

They lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, barely able to do anything else. They'd managed the insertion of the connection - her terms, and probably nicer than anything they thought to call it - a month ago, and every day and night since has been like this.

Their limbs heavy. Their mind empty. The world so distant.

“The connection is there. The other end is not,” she had said. “For now, it’s dormant. You’ll have to learn to work against it.”

And they manage enough - they eat, they go to school, they shower, they have basic conversations. Everything feels like they're pushing against a heavy, numbing fog, but they can learn to do that.

But tonight. Tonight they're tired, and they can't muster enough will to even properly roll onto their side.

With effort, they lift their hand to their chest, rest it over their hoodie. If they could just take it out, they think. They know - it can only be coaxed out with the Dark World’s power, and otherwise it's seated deep within them, but - but if they could just grab hold–

Their hand looks gray against the pale light of artificial stars.

It sinks in, and grips onto something, and pulls.

There's pain, burning, blinding, unbearable–but–but–

But the pain ebbs, and takes the fog with it, and they are themself again, with their hand clutched around something brilliant red.

They stare for a second, and then they break into disbelieving laughter.

(They go three days before the guilt makes them call her - but she doesn't sound disappointed. If anything, she's eager to put them back to use.)

(They wish they'd kept a secret.)

—

There's something they almost remember.

They stand on the street outside the school, still hazily numb from everything that had happened. Their thoughts are rushing, stumbling. They feel more awake than they have in months. They feel bone-deep exhaustion.

There's a tug from their chest, and they frown as they rummage through their pockets, checking what's there. Pencil, some sort of amorphous blob–

They feel a sting of sharp pain.

They lift the thing out of their pocket.

It's just a piece of glass, a jagged shard from a window or something. They look at it, tilting their head–

Through the glass, they see the street beneath their hand.

Like it isn't there at all.

They jolt, and the angle breaks. Just glass in their hand, nothing more.

They tuck it back into their pocket as quickly as they can.

They don't want to think about it any more.

—

They promised to remember this.

Despite that, it's still fragmented. The room picked out in shades of green. Someone telling them that copies were grayscale but colored in with care. A story, behind a tree, and a man.

They had said something, in the gap they knew would be forgotten by everyone.

Maybe it had been gratitude. Maybe it had been dismay. Maybe they had just asked why, what it meant, why he'd bothered, if it was theirs at all, if they'd lose it again or forget it or–

The man had only smiled, and pressed an egg into the palm of their hand.

Blue against eggshell white.

They remember those colors, when the rest fades.

[elliespassagerprincess]

okay so i’ve been thinking of this for like a couple days but i personally can’t write at ALL

ellie x reader inspired by what a shame by lizzy mcalpine where ellie is with cat and cat basically forces ellie to stop hanging out with reader?

What a Shame - ellie williams x reader

hi anon! lmao you can always request things from me if you have an idea!! i'd gladly write it!! i hope you enjoy<3

this story is based off the song what a shame by lizzy mcalpine. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas:)

warnings: emotional manipulation, gaslighting, a lot of angst

summary: In a town where survival often overshadows feelings, you and ellie carve out a safe, warm corner of friendship—one brimming with unspoken comfort, shared memories, and a closeness that borders something more. But Ellie’s girlfriend, Cat, sees what neither of them are brave enough to admit: that Ellie’s heart is slowly slipping into someone else’s hands.

masterlist

What a shame, you think, standing alone at the edge of Jackson’s perimeter fence, where the grass grows too tall and the patrol logs are never neat anymore. This was your spot. Yours and hers.

Not that it mattered now. You hadn’t spoken to Ellie in three weeks.

It started slow. She started pulling away. You tried not to notice—when she stopped coming to guitar nights, when she flaked on helping you with supply sorting, when her eyes didn’t light up anymore when she saw you first.

Then came the harder signs. The way she stopped laughing at your jokes. The way she’d glance over her shoulder like she was being watched. The way she sat stiffly beside you, always just a little too far.

And then the final blow: Cat’s voice, hissing over the crackle of tension in the pub after patrol.

“She’s obsessed with you. Everyone sees it. I won’t let her ruin this.”

“You don’t see it, Ellie? The way she looks at you? It’s pathetic.”

“If you don’t end it—I will.”

You hadn’t heard the argument. You’d only seen the aftermath in Ellie’s eyes the next day. Cold. Guilt-drenched. Distant.

“Hey,” she had said, voice hollow. “We… we probably shouldn’t hang out anymore.”

You blinked. “What?”

“It’s just—it’s not working. This—us.”

You didn’t ask what she meant. Didn’t want to give her the chance to twist the knife. You just nodded. Smiled, even. Told her it was fine.

“Sure. Yeah. I get it. We were just friends anyway.”

That was a lie. You’d been in love with her for months.

The kind of love that crept in during the quiet moments—when her hand would brush yours grabbing an ammo box, when she’d sing under her breath while cleaning her gun, when she’d make stupid puns and wait for your laughter like it was the only sound she needed.

You never acted on it. Never even hinted. Not after she started dating Cat. You respected the line, even if it burned like hell.

But Cat didn’t care about lines. Cat cared about control.

And she saw you as a threat.

Weeks pass. Ellie pretends well. You watch her from afar—on patrols, in the mess hall, walking with Cat’s arm hooked around hers like a shackle disguised as love. She doesn’t look happy. But she looks obedient. Like she’s playing a part.

And maybe that’s the worst part of all. Watching the one person who used to look at you like you were a miracle, now barely able to meet your eyes.

Until one night… you get a knock.

It’s nearly midnight. You open your door and she’s there—hood up, hands shaking, eyes red.

“Ellie?”

She steps inside without asking.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You stare at her. “Then why did you?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks around your little cabin like she’s trying to memorize it. Like she won’t see it again.

“She said it was her or you,” Ellie finally says. “And I panicked. I didn’t want to lose her. But I—”

Her voice falters.

“But you lost me anyway,” you whisper.

Ellie breaks.

“I miss you so much it’s killing me.”

Your heart lurches. But then you remember. Remember the silence. The distance. The betrayal.

“You let her decide for you,” you say, tears burning. “And now you’re here—what? To fix it?”

“No,” she says, voice small. “I just… I wanted you to know. Before I go.”

You frown. “Go?”

“She’s leaving Jackson,” Ellie says. “She wants me to go with her.”

Silence. Pain rings in your ears.

“When?” you ask.

“Tomorrow.”

And just like that, you know it’s over. She leans forward, close enough to feel her breath.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes glossy. “I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

Your lip trembles.

You don’t kiss her. You don’t touch her. You just stand there and say:

“What a shame.”

She leaves before sunrise. And this time, you don’t chase her.

The letter is crumpled, edges smudged like it’s been folded and unfolded too many times. It was never sent. You find it months later in your patrol satchel, tucked between pages of an old sketchbook Ellie gave you long ago.

"Dear y/n,

I don’t even know if I’ll send this. Knowing me, I probably won’t. Cat watches everything. She’d know. She always knows.

It’s snowing where we are now. Some isolated place west of Denver. Feels like the world ended twice out here. People walk like ghosts and speak like they’re afraid their words might shatter. I think that’s why Cat likes it. Quiet. Clean. No one asking questions. No one remembering who we used to be.

But I remember. I remember you.

I dream about Jackson. Not the place. Not the walls or the horses or the stupid creaky floorboards in the bar. I dream about you—your laugh when you’re sleep-deprived, the way you say my name when you’re annoyed but trying not to be, the stupid crinkle in your nose when you catch me staring.

I used to be so sure I was doing the right thing by leaving. Now I think I’m just surviving out of spite.

Cat’s… different out here. She says she loves me, but it doesn’t feel like love. It feels like a cage lined in compliments and I’m too tired to ask for the key. Every time I try to draw, she asks why it’s always your face I’m sketching. I lie and say it’s just habit. It’s not.

I miss your voice. I miss our space. I miss the way you made me feel like I could breathe without earning it.

I think I made the wrong choice. Scratch that—I know I did.

I should’ve fought for you. Should’ve told you I loved you before she ever made me choose. I think about that moment all the time. How your face didn’t even crack when I said we should stop being friends. How you just nodded and let me go.

Did it hurt you? God, I hope it didn’t. But I know it did. I don’t deserve you after that.

But I need you to know—there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about going back. About showing up at your door and finally saying it right. Without fear. Without guilt.

Just: “I love you. I’m sorry. Let me come home.”

But I don’t know if home wants me anymore.

If you’re reading this—somehow, if I ever do get the courage to send it—please just know: I carry you with me. In every mile. Every drawing. Every time I wake up and think I hear your voice in my dreams.

I hope you're okay. I hope you’re free. I hope… maybe someday, you’ll forgive me.

Love always,

Ellie"

Ellie checks the post every day for two weeks.

She pretends she’s just curious about trade routes, or looking for news from Jackson. But her stomach twists when the caravan approaches, and she always finds herself lingering by the supply cart longer than necessary—just in case. Just in case there’s a letter. A scrap of handwriting. A name in the corner that might mean forgiveness. There never is.

Cat watches her too closely now. Maybe she knows. Maybe she’s read the letter Ellie hid under the floorboard before she could send it. Or maybe she doesn’t need to read it. Maybe she just feels it—the way Ellie disappears sometimes in thought, sketching in the dim candlelight with a kind of ache that doesn’t belong to her anymore.

Cat hates when she draws.

“You’re not even here when I’m talking,” Cat says one night, slamming a mug on the table hard enough to slosh whiskey over the edge. “Always off in your head. What do you even think about when you look like that?”

Ellie doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t say: her.

She doesn’t say: the way she used to laugh at my stupid puns.

Or: how she always knew when I needed silence, not space.

Or: how she was the only one who ever really looked at me without expecting something back.

Instead, she says nothing. Cat goes to bed angry. Ellie sketches in the dark. No lamps. Just memory.

She imagines you reading the letter—eyes scanning each line slowly, maybe your fingers trembling, maybe a tear rolling down your cheek as you whisper her name into your empty kitchen. But that’s the thing about silence.

It tells a story louder than anything else.

Weeks turn into months. The winter deepens. Ellie grows quieter, colder, even with Cat pressing herself closer each night, seeking something Ellie has long buried in a place she’s never getting back.

The drawing of you stays in her journal. A ghost she welcomes.

Sometimes, late at night when the snow winds howl against the old cabin windows, she opens the page and just stares. Waiting.

But silence answers, over and over and over again.

What a shame.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ zali-senpai!! ]❜

ft. vezalius bandage x f! reader — krisis, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ zali is finally a senpai & gets particularly attached to a certain kouhai┊0.9k words

note: i’m not writing for the real streamer, this is a universe where they are streamers along with whatever occupation their lore follows contains: a little smut at the end!! dom zali & sub reader┊reader is part of ttt & a princess who wears a dress, innocence kink, and implied virginity loss

➤ author's note: so i came up with this idea when ttt debuted and wrote it all in one day… yeah it’s been a while. reader is a princess because… zali calling you princess and him being your prince charming… 

senpai! vezalius bandage who’s the most excited out of krisis to finally have kouhai after being considered the babies of the group for six months, now being the predecessor of the ninth wave that contained a cleric, a swordsmaster, a kunoichi, and a princess. he’s just so thrilled, already having his card in hand to buy the available welcome merch to support the newest wave and spamming his twitter with comments about how cool you all were during your introductions to the viewers.

senpai! vezalius bandage who absolutely loves it when you refer to him as such, making his heart skip a beat and the butterflies in his stomach go ballistic. sure, he feels happy when the others call him that too, but the way you say it makes him feel an emotion that’s indescribable (it’s actually a mix of horny and puppy crush, but he doesn’t know that yet). it makes heat rush to his face and dust his handsome face with a pale rose which he just blames for not being used to the honorific, causing him to get teased by his own genmates when they catch on.

senpai! vezalius bandage who always gives great advice, willing to tell you all of the embarrassing moments he had just so that you could learn from his mistakes and breaks down everything complicated so that it’s more simple to understand. he’s always there to remind you to drink plenty of water and get plenty of rest because he knows how hectic the first month of debut is. if it ever gets too much, feel free to call him whenever and he’ll help you sort it out! 

senpai! vezalius bandage who thinks you are so cute when you follow him around like a baby duckling and watch as he shows you the ropes of streaming with wide sparkling eyes, he has to stop himself from giggling at how you seem so fascinated by simple things he does daily. he’s even cooler to you because of his job as a hero who heals those in need, something that you wish you could do as a princess for the people of your kingdom. he inspires you so much to donate both time and money to charity, helping out those in need in the best way you can. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who you did your very first collab with outside of your genmates, spending the better half of the game talking about how amazing he was helping you out and how the other three were jokingly jealous at how much attention he was giving you. anyone with working eyes and ears could sense the immaculate chemistry, a ship name was created the same day and was flooded with artwork the next. you would never admit it, but you check the tag almost every single day while lying in bed and kick your feet blushing with each new post. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who knows that you have little free time between the busy debut month schedule and your normal royal duties, so he makes an effort to sneak you away for some freedom because what kind of awful person would he be if he didn’t look after the well-being of his kouhai? being a hero gives him lots of experience when it comes to sneaking around, so getting past the guards and to your bedroom window is a piece of cake!

senpai! vezalius bandage who will play the guitar and serenade you in the garden, singing love songs to get you all flustered under the moonlight. he would have never thought a gorgeous princess like you was so inexperienced in romantic situations like this, but he’s more than pleased to teach you all about the wonderful world of love your strict life has never allowed you to know. 

senpai! vezalius bandage who adores how big your eyes get and how flustered you become when he steals away your first real kiss, not the half-assed peck you received from some prince when you were little under pressure, a kiss which made your heart flutter and made you feel desired. he can’t but giggle at the way you looked like a deer in headlights and radiated warmth from how flustered you were.  

senpai! vezalius bandage who plays the gentleman and leaves it there for the moment, not wanting to rush into anything too quickly even though he could already tell you were subconsciously rubbing your thighs together to relieve the little ache the simple kiss gave you— god, you were so cute he could just eat you up. not yet though, he would leave you hanging just for tonight and take care of himself when he gets home.

senpai! vezalius bandage who can’t keep up the act for very long, not when you’re an angel descended from heaven and so close to him at all times. it takes about a week at the very least before you find yourself pinned down by him, his hands trailing up your frilly dress and his tongue shoved into your mouth exploring while he relishes your pitched little moans.

senpai! vezalius bandage who thinks you’re even cuter when stuttering out a weak “zali senpai~” while he presses you into the wall and fucks you from behind at an erratic pace, his gloved hands maintaining a strong grip on your hips to help you stay upright since your legs were on the verge of giving out under you— not stopping until you’re seeing stars and your legs are shaking so that he can carry you around afterward <3

[melancholyshadow]

hi! i was wondering if you can write aki hayakawa x reader fic, something fluffy and domestic, maybe him being a little silky amd flirty (reader and aki are a couple)

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - A. HAYAKAWA

PAIRING: aki hayakawa x f!reader

WARNINGS: not proofread!, just some horribly written fluff

SUMMARY: the two times aki didn't know what he was feeling, until it finally clicked.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

A/N: i haven't written fluff in AGES, so i hope this is along the lines of what you were asking for anon, i kind of went my own way, but thanks for requesting!! if you have any request, feel free to drop them in my inbox! (be sure to check who i write for first!)

DIVIDER: @adornedwithlight <3

MASTERLIST

For the longest time, love was an unfamiliar concept to Aki Hayakawa. 

That was until he met you.

It wasn’t a feeling that just appeared one day, but a feeling that grew slowly over the course of your relationship.

When Aki thought about it, there were three specific memories that came to mind.

Moments that only made him fall further down the rabbit hole. 

Until that day he finally said that he loved you. 

The first time Aki felt it was about two months in, and it was a rare Saturday night for him.

Instead of being stuck at the Public Safety office, drowning in paperwork until midnight, he was at your apartment. He stood in the bathroom, in front of the sink, with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, watching you intently through the mirror. Per usual, he was easily distracted by your presence, as you applied some mascara to your eyelashes and mouthed the words to the song that played from your phone. 

He texted you the night before, and informed you to be ready by eight tonight, that he was taking you on a real date. Most of your dates, thus far, have been him coming to your place directly after work and ordering takeout. You certainly didn’t mind those sorts of dates, but this was a nice change. 

Aki informed you he was taking you to the bar, so you dressed accordingly. Casual, but still cute. The time was somewhere around seven-thirty, and you were finishing up, spritzing yourself with your favorite perfume.  

“Ya’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than slacks or sweatpants.” You teased him, pausing the music and wiping away a small speck of rouge mascara. He chuckled at your comment, he just continued to  brush his teeth, and watched you as you walked out of the bathroom and into your connected bedroom. 

“Leather or jean jacket?” He heard you call from inside your closet. After quickly rinsing off his toothbrush and putting it in the holder, he walked out to join you. You stood in front of your full-length mirror, holding both garments in front of your body. 

“Jean?” Aki said, although it came out more as a question. “But the denims don’t match, the jacket is too dark.” You huffed out. “Leather, then?” He suggested. “With the black top? I don’t want to look like some biker.” You explained, letting out another sigh. Aki chortles, and you whip around to look at him. 

“Why’re you laughing?” You asked, looking at him through the slits of your eyes. “Why ask if you don’t like either option?” He inquired. You just looked at him for a moment, genuinely considering his question, “You’re no help, you’re supposed to humor me.” You said, jokingly. 

Eventually, you decide on no jacket, not wanting it to ruin your outfit. 

The bar ended up being packed, even for a Saturday.

There was barely any room to move. Aki kept a secure hand on the small of your back as you navigated towards the bar. You finally find a spot to squeeze yourself into and motion to the bartender. Aki’s much larger frame is standing guard behind you, taking the brute force of the drunks walking past.

You order your favorite drink, and get Aki a beer. Surprisingly, there was a free table in the corner of the room, and you hunkered down there for the night. The night passed along at a steady pace, and you two talked to each other about whatever topics pop into your mind at that moment. As there was still a lot the two of you didn’t know about each other. 

Aki decides to only have a couple beers since he was the one who was driving you home. However, that meant you had free reign, and you took advantage of that. Neither of you went out often, and you were usually the designated driver for your friend group when you went out, so this sort of night was few and far between. 

It was around one in the morning, and you were too many drinks in to count. Aki was talking about one of his co-workers and how immature she could be. You tried your hardest to concentrate on what he was saying, but you were distracted. 

Distracted by him. 

By the way, Aki's lips moved while he talked, and his tongue swiped over his bottom lip occasionally. How his icy blue eyes still popped, even under the dim bar lights. The fact that he had a perfect button nose. And his hair, how it fell across his face just right. You genuinely could have stared at him for hours. 

“You’re not listening, are you?” His voice brought you out of your trance. He wasn’t angry, he couldn’t be, not at you, he was more amused. “‘M sorry, your jus’ so pretty.” You whined, propping your head up with one hand. “And you are drunk.”  Aki let out a genuine laugh. It made your heart skip. 

Aki would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking the same thing about you, he was just better at concealing his ogling. You always looked beautiful to him, even when you weren't trying. But, right now with that drunken flush flooding your cheeks, and the accompanying glossy eyes, you looked almost angelic beneath the dingy lighting. 

This is when he first felt it. 

Something he wasn’t able to explain. 

So, he ignored it. 

The second time was three months later. 

Aki was having a particularly bad day.

 Actually, it was an awful day. 

It was a plethora of things. He woke up late, people filing their paperwork wrong, perfectly good leads going missing, Denji and Power were being extra annoying and combative, and Makima’s usual unrealistic expectations. He had been so busy that when you sent him a text earlier in the day, he didn’t even have a single second to read it or respond. 

So, by the time the clock struck six, Aki was practically sprinting out the door. As soon as he stepped outside the Public Safety building, he lit up a cigarette and practically ran to your apartment. All he wanted was to see you, he knew that would make his horrid day all worth it. 

He let out a sigh of relief as he pulled his key from the lock, and pushed the front door open. The apartment was dark as he kicked off his shoes, he called out to you but got no response. You were supposed to be home, you had the day off. Aki grabbed his phone from his back pocket, remembering he had a text from you. Maybe you sent him a message to tell him you had picked up a shift at work. 

Except when he opened the message, it was not about you going into work. 

sent at 10:08am  you <3: happy birthday, aki! i hope you have a great day at work, can’t wait to see you later! <3

Happy birthday? 

Before he could ponder your text for much longer, he heard your voice call out to him from deeper inside the apartment. He noticed a small amount of light coming from the living room, so that’s where he decided to investigate first. 

As he flipped on the overhead light, that’s when he found you. You were stood in the middle of the room, cake in hand, decorated with numbered candles, small flames flickered at the wick. “Happy birthday!” You exclaimed, the smile on your face practically beamed off your lips. 

Aki was speechless. 

The entire room was decorated. There were streamers strung from each corner of the room, a garland with the words ‘happy birthday’ hung from the window above the couch. Balloons littered the carpeted floor, and some hung high on the ceiling. A festive table cloth covered the short-legged table in the middle of the room, and three perfectly wrapped presents and a card sat atop it. 

“Wait, did you seriously do all of this?” He asked, when his mouth was finally able to formulate some sort of response. “Of course I did.” You chuckled, “Now, come blow out these candles.” You added. Aki stepped closer, and noticed it wasn’t just some store bought cake, it was homemade. 

“And you made me a cake?” He asked, and looked up at you. You nodded, that smile on your face growing even wider, “Make a wish!” You reminded him. Aki blew out his candles, and took the cake from your hands, placing it on the table. You opened your mouth to question him, but before you could, he pulled you into his chest.

That unknown feeling popped up again at that moment. 

As he held you in his arms and admired all the work you had put in. 

This time he recognized that what he felt wasn’t just in his chest, but his heart.

The final time was a couple weeks shy of your one year anniversary.

It was a cold Sunday morning, and it was quite early. 

Aki was already up and had snuck out of bed. He started the coffee pot and when it was done brewing, he poured himself a cup and sat on your patio. He watched the people pass by below. Taking the occasional sip of coffee or drag of his morning cigarette to warm up the chill that reached his bones. When both were done, he attempted to try and slip back into bed with you. 

The keyword was attempt. 

You stirred just as he situated himself under the covers. 

He stilled any movements, hoping you would just fall back asleep. However, you flipped over and looked at him with your sleep-filled eyes. “Aki?” You asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He cooed. You let out a small hmpf and collapsed next to him, with your head on his chest. He chuckled a bit, as he felt your body go limp, and your breath shallow out. 

Aki was certainly a morning person, mostly because he had to be, and you were more of a night person. There were many Sundays similar to this, where Aki had started his day hours before you started yours. He certainly wasn’t complaining, he enjoyed these moments with you. 

It was about an hour later when you would finally rise for the day, but it was a slow process. 

Aki had been enjoying the silence, which was only interrupted by the occasional snore that passed your lips. Your body began to move in the slightest way, but it wasn’t like the occasional twitch your body produced while you slept, but more of a stretch, like you were attempting to loosen your tight muscles. 

You sat up slowly, and used your fists to rub the fuzziness from your eyes. “Good morning.” He said softly, as you stretched your arms over your head and your legs out in front of you, a couple pops coming from your bones. “Good morning.” You murmured, finally looking at him with a sleepy smile. 

Aki knows you don’t necessarily like being asked a million questions just as you wake up, so the two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, allowing you to wake a bit more first. You turn to face him, and situated your body to do the same. 

“Being half-asleep is a very good look on you.” He uttered softly, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. In the mid-morning sun, you looked absolutely divine to Aki. Between the disheveled hair, glazed over eyes, lazy smile and puffy cheeks you looked more beautiful than ever. At that moment, he imagined himself walking up to that sight every morning. 

That’s when that mysterious feeling began creeping back into Aki’s chest, and back into his heart. 

That’s when it seemed to click in Aki’s mind. 

He was feeling love. 

Something he hadn’t felt in years, not since his family was alive.  

That’s why he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

But, this was different. This love made his heart race, his palms sweat, and his stomach turn. That’s why he got nervous to see you, that’s why he was always thinking about you, and that’s why whenever he pictured his future you were included. 

“What’s wrong?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, before he went reeling. You were staring at him with your big bright eyes. You could tell he had gotten lost in his thoughts, something that happened to him quite often. “Are you okay?” You asked. He took your smaller hand into his much larger one. He was smiling, but it was one you had never seen before. You opened your mouth to ask him if he was alright again, but he spoke instead. 

“I…” Aki struggled with his words, although he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He was nervous you might not feel the same way, that this might all be one-sided. That he might have read the situation wrong. But he decided to say it anyway.

“I love you.” 

And without hesitation, you responded. 

“I love you more, Aki.” 

if you thought my smut was rusty, my fluff is even worse!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Anywhere That You Are

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: Inspired by that picture (as seen below), my new favorite song (That You Are) and an idea sent in via asks.

Summary: A scene of Y/n and Andrew enjoying their vacation in a secluded spot in the mountains of Italy.

Warnings: NSFW/SMUT, semi-public sex (sort of?), so much fluff.

They’d bickered for a while over where to go. She wanted somewhere quiet and secluded – because after two entire years of sharing her man with the world, Y/n wants him to herself. Andrew, on the other hand, had simply requested somewhere near water – the beach, a lake, a pool, anything he could swim in. So they met in the middle; two weeks in a rustic, little one bedroom cottage tucked away in the mountains of Italy, within walking distance of a vast, jewel toned lake. The house is perched on a jagged hill, overlooking the serene landscape, and sunsets wash the area in a gentle, golden glow. They’ve witnessed three so far, and each one has been nothing short of magnificent – though Andrew has argued that there’s at least one view that he appreciates much more.

Her, standing on the open porch, wearing nothing but his shirt as that warm light hits her face, making it seem like she’s glowing. Like something ethereal; an angel on earth sent just for him. Or even better, his own, personal heaven.

He’s thinking about that as he sits there, in one of the two wicker chairs with an acoustic guitar propped in his lap, fingers absently grazing the delicate strings. At first, he isn’t playing anything in particular. Andrew’s eyes are trained forward, taking in the view of rolling hills and aged trees while his mind strays to the thought of his love, just past the window behind him, moving around in their rental’s charmingly quaint kitchen. Humming softly as she fills the kettle, moving around fluidly as she takes it to the stove before prepping a pair of matching mugs out of the small cupboard over the wooden counter as it boils. She’ll fill up the mugs at the end of the process, and bring them out, all without spilling even a drop – because she’s more graceful that Andrew could ever dream to be.

Because if he is a perilously tall stack of china plates, just waiting for a breeze in the right – or wrong – direction to end in a clumsy disaster, then she is silk, moving freely through calm water.

As thoughts of Y/n take shape, Andrew finds himself playing the notes of a familiar tune, humming along to it as he does. A wedding present, written with a new friend for someone he loves so dearly, and so deeply, that even the most beautiful words, tied together with threads of gold, could only express a fraction of what he feels. But she’d loved it, and that was what had mattered most to him. Because if she loves it, then chances are, she knows.

She knows that if he had his way, they would be together – always. No oceans would separate them for months on end. There wouldn’t be months between kisses and neither of them would endure the heartache of seeing that other on screens without being able to touch even the barest tips of their fingers. No bed would stay half cold, and no terrible joke will be told through text. They’d go on walks every evening with fingers laced and her head leaned on his arm.

He would be anywhere – and everywhere – that she is. Because he always finds that he makes a bit more sense when Y/n is around.

So lost in the inner workings of his mind, Andrew completely misses the whistle of the kettle, the subsequent clinking of a metal spoon against the ceramic and finally, the tell-tale creak of the front door. He’s only pulled out of his thoughts when Y/n sets the pair of mugs down on the small, round table between the two chairs and comes to stand behind him. Her hands begin at his shoulders, spending a brief moment messaging them before sliding forward, fingers sprawled on his chest.

“What’s on your mind, huh?” Y/n probs, bring her lips to his cheek in a much-too-short peck.

Freeing one of his hands, Andrew places it over hers. “You,” he offers softly, shifting his head to meet her lips.

“Mm, yeah?” She smiles, “now, why would you think about me when I’m right here.”

“Because,” he tips his head so their noses are touching, “you’re my favorite thing to think about.”

Y/n giggles again, walking around until she’s in front of him. Andrew allows her relieve him of the guitar, watching as she carefully lays in in the vacant chair before climbing into his lap, her legs astride his thighs. “That’s all?” She pouts dramatically, “just think about.”

Chuckling, his hands find her hips, clothed in a gray t-shirt stolen from his suitcase – not that he’s complaining, his clothes look much better on her anyway. “Not just think,” he promises, catching her mouth.

“Yeah?” Her arms go around his neck as she melts into his chest, words escaping through their tangled lips, “what else?”

“Favorite person to kiss,” his lips travel along her jaw, and then down her neck, where he presses his nose to the warm skin near her pulse, “favorite smell,” he nips at her throat, leaving little, telling bruises, “favorite person to do this with,” and then, as of to examine his work, or just freshen the image of her in his mind, Andrew pulls away, broad grin splitting his cheeks. “Favorite person to see wearing my clothes.”

She is really just his favorite everything.

“Our clothes,” Y/n corrects pointedly.

“Oh, of course darlin’,” he plays along with a chuckle.

“I’m glad we’re here,” she says suddenly and the mood sobers a bit. A soft smile still plays at her lips, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that are indicative of those private moments where one of them says something that is only meant for the other. A surge of emotion pools in her chest, and there’s a lump in her throat. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been together – five minutes or ten years – it isn’t the distance that makes her heart grow fonder, its the moments spent in their own little bubble. When he’s close enough for her to throw her arms around his neck or lay her head in his lap. When the sound of his voice isn’t skewed by the speaker of her phone.

When she can open a door and find him on the other side of it.

Those are the moments that make her heart swell so much that Y/n thinks it may burst out of her chest. They are the ones that remind Y/n of how much she loves him, only because he’s him. There isn’t another person in the world that could rouse such an intense feeling within her, or even a fraction of the certainty she feels it with.

Lifting his hand to the side of her face, Andrew mirrors her expression. “So am I,” he returns with the same ease, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed it just being the two of us.”

Y/n huffs a chuckle and leans in conspiringly, her forehead pressed to his while his thumb caresses the apple of her cheek, “I’m willing to bet I do.”

Still cupping her cheek, Andrew tilts his head and closes his mouth in over hers again. His other hand, the one on her hip, searches blindly for the hem of the t-shirt. “We’re outside,” Y/n’s mumbled admonishment melts against his lips when he flattens his palm on her upper thigh, gradually inching it upwards.

“Just us up here,” Andrew returns, then adds, “do you wanna go inside?”

Clumsily, she undoes the plastic buttons at the top of his shirt, “not really,” Y/n’s hands slip into the top of his flannel shirt, fingers dancing along his skin, leaving sparks in their wake. “God, I love this shirt on you.”

“I’d like this off you,” he starts lifting the oversized t-shirt over her head, not caring where it falls when he tosses it off to the side. She isn’t wearing much under it, just her underwear, and Andrew’s eyes fall to her unrestrained breasts after discarding the t-shirt. His gaze is steady as he trails the tips of his fingers up her spine, and its more his feather-light touch than the temperate evening air that causes the dusting of goosebumps along her exposed skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, and Y/n feels her cheeks warm under his stare; a heady combination of tenderness and longing darkening his eyes.

There’s something about the way Andrew looks at her – and just looks – that never fails to rouse a sensation in the pit of her stomach. A warmth that she’s never really associated with sex; its more like the warmth of a hearth, reaching upwards. Embers spreading to the most hidden parts of her body. It's gentle, and comforting. It's not the rush of being desired, but the peace that comes with being wanted.

Its not fast and explosive. It doesn’t fizzle out when they’re spent.

It stands up against time, steadfast and true.

Andrew looks at her, and Y/n doesn't feel as if he's forgotten that there are other women in the world. Instead, she knows that of all of them, he will only ever choose her – want her.

“I love the way you look at me,” she whispers, still loosely clutching his shoulders as she leans forward.

Andrew’s grin broadens and he flattens his hand on the center of her back, “well, I love looking at you,” he returns in the same, hushed tone. A sound between a delighted chuckle and a hum of contentment falls onto his lips from hers. He tastes of the beer he’d taken out with him earlier, and something subtly sweet that makes her toes curl.

In a sequence of clumsy, fumbled movements, Y/n lifts herself off Andrew’s lap for long enough for him to tug her underwear down, and get it of one leg before they hastily undo the button and zipper of his jeans so they can shove them down to the middle of his thighs. A fit of laughter erupts from her throat, at some point during the jumbled mess of movements, and as she throws her head back, he laughs too, rendering their attempts efforts even more maladroit

It probably doesn't look like they’re in a movie, or even particularly sensual. But its the one of the things he misses the most when they’re apart. Not the act itself but the being with her like that; when they’re so caught up in how it feels that nothing else matters. Bodies in awkward positions or a stray comment that has nothing to do with anything at all, none of it matters because he's with the one person that it all makes sense with.

When Y/n sinks down onto him, her lewd moan is cast into the crook of his neck, and Andrew lolls his head to the side, pressing his cheek to her hair, the fruity fragrance of her shampoo flooding his senses. “God,” he rasps, reveling in the way she feels wrapped so tightly around him.

“Just like that,” he encourages, gentle grip on her hips guiding Y/n into steady pace. Rocking her hips against his in pronounced, languid motions, her back arches slightly, creating in a balletic curve. She looks much like art, Andrew thinks.

Just like that, so simple and unhampered. With a couple stray strands falling over her face and her head thrown back. Practically melting in his hands. Through his hazy, lust-blurred vision, he sees the most beautiful person he’s ever known transform into something that can only be other-worldly. Every bit of her has been carved by the gods with the purpose of being the truest personification of beauty.

What must he have done in some other life to be afforded the privilege of her company?

It's really the tangible that’s keeping him grounded; reminding him that he’s real enough to share that moment with her. The warmth of her silken skin under his rough fingers, the clench of her core around him, the tips of her fingers sunken into his shoulders.

The pressure of Y/n’s forehead against his, the heat of her breath when she ellicts his name in a husky moan. “God, Andrew,” there’s a waning smile tugging at her lips as she quickens ever so slightly. His hips buck to meet hers, and every time they connect in a heady, jerked movement, her breath hitches audibly.

God, he loves that sound. That little, whined, “uh.”

Y/n’s fingers curl into his shoulders as her thighs start burning, a direct result of Andrew’s light wash jeans rhythmically rubbing against her skin. That fiery friction coupled with the usual tingle that accompanies being stretched around him is enough to run her breaths shallow and ragged. There’s a light sheen gathered on his forehead when she presses hers to it, and from that angle, Y/n swears she can feel him in her stomach.

Vaguely, she registers when Andrew moves one hand from her waist, bringing his thumb to her sensitive bundle of nerves, while he lowers his head to press his mouth to the swell of her breath. Curling her toes at the new sensations, one of Y/n’s hands slide out from under his shirt and reaches for the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, disturbing his haphazard bun. Andrew's tongue flicking at the top of her breast, incits the most thrilling sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the way he's working her nub is dizzying; the combination quickly guiding Y/n to the cusp of release.

“I need to feel you,” Andrew grits, edges of his teeth dragging along the ample flesh. “Let me feel you,” he pleads urgently, the upward motions of his pelvis growing erratic as he tries to prompt Y/n to quicken her pace. “Come’on sweetheart,” he encourages, tone low and dry.

"Andy….Andy….” Y/n yelps, crescent-shaped nails grazing his scalp as her legs start stiffening.

“That’s it, darling” he entices, thumb working on her numb more vigorously now. Andrew needs to feel her squeeze him; like she’s putting every stray part back into its place. He’s aching for the kind of release that only Y/n can bring, the kind that empties his mind completely and leaves him seeing stars for the next few minutes.

Twin kaleidoscopes are painted onto her shut lids as it happens, and Y/n can’t help but blurt out a string of cried praises muddled in with the obscene repetition of his name. A sinful prayer shared between lovers. Her legs, no longer able to support her own weight, become jello and Y/n struggles to keep moving through the cloud of her release.

“Fuck,” Andrew heaves, lifting his head as Y/n quakes around him. His breathing is heavy as he follows along, mind now far too tattered to properly enjoy the way she looks when she’s completely in ruins. So instead, Andrew hastily pulls his hand from her center and cradles the back of Y/n’s head, pulling her towards him so he can crush his lips to hers, the fervor of their kiss matching the thick warmth swirling around them.

That gorgeous scenery that they’ve been enjoying over the past few days – trees that soar towards the dimming sky, the bellies of green hills and the occasional burst of colour owed to wildflowers, all dusted by that golden evening hue – blurs around them, completely forgotten.

Even as they come down from the very top of it, Andrew’s breathing remains heavy, and he can feel Y/n’s heart pounding against her ribs.

“Jesus,” Y/n suspires when they break, shoulders slumping. Andrew chuckles briefly at her exclamation before sagging against the back of the chair, throwing his head back so he can stare up – but not really – at the ceiling. Looking down at herself, Y/n can’t help but feel the heat return to her cheeks upon noticing that she’s completely unclad. He’s seen her like that maybe a hundred times by now, if not more, but there’s always the tiniest bit of self-consciousness that sneaks up on her when he’s completely dressed and she’s….well, not

Abashed, Y/n throws herself against his chest and buries her face in the side of his neck. Andrew can feel her smile on his skin, and the way her fame shakes slightly with bashful giggles. “What?” He smiles, one hand settled on the small of her back while the other reaches for the side of her face, urging Y/n to look at him.

“You're still wearing all your clothes,” she giggles, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she meets his gaze.

Briefly, Andrew glances down at himself; the first four buttons of his shirt are open, and his pants have made it to the middle of his thighs, but otherwise he’s still entirely clothed. “Shit, yeah,” he laughs softly. “Tell you what,” he meets her lips in a punctuating kiss, “gimme ten minutes, and then we’ll fix that.”

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

What else could Day Fourteen of BuckTommy Fluffebruary be but Valentine's Day? Happy Valentine's Day, you lovely folks. Here's an extremely fluffy fic for all of you. Once again, Tumblr doesn't believe in total HTML formatting and I had to use a fake iMessage thing for the texts. You can also read this on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

Tommy’s always outwardly been a “Valentine's Day is a commercialized bullshit holiday” kind of guy, but inwardly wants to love it. The problem has been that he's usually working or just wasn't in a serious relationship when the holiday rolled around. Twice, he'd done the whole wine and dine thing with Abby and another ex, Ben, who had actually been a “fuck commercial holidays” guy, as Tommy had found out over a very stilted Valentine's Day dinner just before they’d officially broken up.

He's working until midday, because Jerry on B-shift had needed to switch so he could take his daughter to an appointment and go to her gymnastics meet. That had given Tommy a few days to try to figure out what he could do for Evan, who's off all day. He'd decided on making dinner at the house and then taking him to the movies, since a theater near his place is showing Princess Bride, which Evan’s never seen. He starts a grocery order to get to the house when he should be getting home so he can start right away. He already has a card that he’d drawn and painted along with a set of tickets for an outdoor light show at a botanical garden in Palos Verdes and an itinerary for a trip to Napa, and they’re all safely in his glove box where no one can stumble on them.

When he's helping Sherri clean one of the engines, there's a call at the front for a delivery under his name. He frowns, looking at his watch. Even if he'd mistakenly ordered the groceries to his job, the driver's about three and a half hours early.

“Be right back,” he says, and she waves him away.

He opens the app on his way, wondering if he'd missed a message, but it's still telling him that it'll let him know when his shopper gets to the store. That's when he reaches the front desk and sees a huge bouquet of flowers. There's red roses at the center, but there's also pink hydrangeas, calla lilies, and peonies scattered throughout. Some sort of greenery with round leaves is poking through between some of the flowers. The entire bouquet is at least eighteen inches in diameter, and a card is standing in a holder with his name on the envelope.

“Tommy Kinard?” the delivery guy asks, and Tommy nods slowly. “Can you sign here, please?”

Tommy nods again and signs the paper without really looking. When he's done, he takes the card from its holder and opens it. It’s printed with a message that says:

For my Valentine:

I love you For sentimental reasons I hope you do believe me I've given you my heart

Evan

Tommy's breath catches. It's from the song they'd danced to in his kitchen just after they'd gotten back together last month. It was while that song was playing that Tommy knew he'd ask Evan to marry him one day. He remembers looking at Evan’s gentle smile and twinkling eyes and quietly singing along and feeling his heart ache with how much he loved him.

He holds the card to his chest with one hand and reaches out with the other to stroke his thumb across a soft, delicate rose petal. It's the first time anyone's ever gotten him flowers. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls Evan.

“Hello?” Evan says, picking up on the first ring.

“Evan…” is all he can really say, his voice valiantly not shaking, though it’s a near thing.

“Do you like them?” he asks, sounding nervous.

“They're perfect,” Tommy says, his voice soft. He knows there's people milling around, but he just wants to exist in the bubble of Evan’s voice and the beautiful flowers. “Thank you.”

“Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

Tommy smiles, his face warming at the term of endearment and with just how sincere Evan sounds. “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

They can only talk for a bit, because Tommy's supposed to be cleaning and doing a stock check before he hands the keys over to the next shift, but they confirm their plans for that night. Before they hang up, Tommy tells him he loves him, and he huffs out a laugh when Evan sighs and replies in kind, sounding so happy.

He takes a picture of the bouquet and scoops it up to bring to the kitchen so he can temporarily keep them in a large ice tea pitcher. He knows he has a vase big enough for the bouquet at home, because he has a lot of his Nonna’s and Zia’s things, but it’s packed away. He’s never had a reason to use it.

An hour later, there's another call for him at the front. This time, it's cupcakes from one of the only bakeries Tommy likes nearly as much as his boyfriend's baking. The note that's attached is handwritten and signed by Evan, and he wonders when he'd actually planned all of this.

For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you Wonderful you

Love,

Evan

Tommy laughs, because it's a bit of a private joke between them. He'd shown Evan A League of Their Own in the week after they'd gotten back together. When Marla Hooch drunkenly sings to her future husband, Evan had pointed at the screen and said that would've been him if Tommy had shown up to the karaoke night Howie had organized before Christmas.

“I would've tried to woo you back with sad, drunk love songs. I was so close to calling you and doing it anyway.”

“I mean, that might've worked.”

“Now you tell me.”

He calls Evan again, but his boyfriend texts him that he's picking Jee-Yun up from preschool.

He gets a picture from inside Evan’s Jeep of him making a kissy face from the driver's seat and Jee-Yun in her car seat in the back doing the same. She's wearing a pink sweater with little red and white hearts all over, and her cheeks are extra puffed out from the face she's pulling. Tommy wants to press kisses to them and blow a raspberry and make her shriek with laughter. It's one of his favorite sounds in the world.

There's no reply, likely because Evan is driving, and Tommy goes back to his end of shift duties. He's getting gently ribbed for getting two special deliveries, and more than one person is lamenting that Evan makes them all look bad. It’s the kind of thing he’s been able to say to other people, he’s never been on the receiving end of it. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed or over any of their comments, he’s too busy being happy.

It's when he only has forty-five minutes left that the B-shift captain comes up to him with a smile on his face.

“Delivery at the front, Kinard,” he says. “Delivery girl's real cute, too.”

Tommy snorts and sets down his clipboard. “Yeah, I'm sure she'll be just my type.”

“You never know.”

When he jogs to the front, he doesn't see anyone for a moment, but then he hears a giggle and Jee-Yun peeks from around where the bay doors are open. Tommy’s face splits into a grin, and he's on his knees to squeeze her close.

“Cap said the delivery girl was cute, he didn't say she was the prettiest in the world!” he exclaims as she giggles into his shoulder.

“Uncle Tommy!” she says loudly, pushing his shoulder and looking at him sternly. “I'm s’posed to give you a present.”

Tommy sits back on his heels and gestures for her to continue. “My apologies, please continue.”

She smiles and looks back just before a distinctly Evan-shaped hand reaches around to hand her a colorful piece of paper. She hands it to him, and Tommy unfolds it to reveal a wonky heart covered in crayon scribbles, several smiley faces drawn with marker, a flower (or sun) in marker, and words written by an adult hand that had been loosely traced over in crayon. They read:

Will you be our Valentine?

Love,

Jee-Yun Buckley Han and Evan Buckley

Tommy hugs the valentine carefully to his chest and smiles. “Yes. I'd be honored.”

“He said yes!” Jee-Yun whispers loudly over her shoulder.

And then Evan steps into view, and he has a single red rose in his hand and a smile on his face. Tommy stands and kisses him, plucking the rose from his grip, nearly lifting his boyfriend off his feet. He feels like he could float away at any moment.

“I love you,” Tommy murmurs, nuzzling their noses together.

“I love you, too,” Evan says softly, smiling and looking at Tommy with so much warmth radiating from his entire being. It always feels like Evan’s got a ball of sunshine inside just beaming out of him.

Tommy kisses him again before picking up Jee-Yun and pressing kisses to her cheeks and grinning when she does the same.

“I love it,” he tells her. “And I actually have something for you at my house that I can give to your uncle tonight.”

“Really?” she says, looking shy and happy all at once. He wishes so badly that he'd thought to put the stuffed dinosaur (store bought) and matching card (handmade, full of puns) in his truck.

“Of course! I had to get something for my favorite Valentine,” he says, finally blowing the raspberry on her cheek. When she laughs so loud it almost hurts his ears, he squeezes her to his chest and feels his eyes prickle when she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes back.

“Happy Valentine Day, Uncle Tommy,” she says, and he twists his mouth for a second so he doesn't cry.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Jee-Jee,” he says softly, kissing her hair.

She straightens up and looks around the bay they're in, and Tommy turns to see that they've accumulated an audience of people glancing over from whatever they’re doing. He instinctively tucks her close, but all he sees are smiles.

“Do you want to see where Uncle Tommy works?” Evan asks, and Jee-Yun nods. “I think he'll give us a tour if we ask really nicely.”

She turns her big eyes on him. “Uncle Tommy, can we please see your work?”

Tommy kisses her temple. “Absolutely. Let's go, baby girl.”

Everyone is charmed by her, especially when she starts pointing at some of their ground equipment and calling it by name, telling them that her Daddy uses it, too. It's when they get to the hangar that she looks excited, almost wiggling out of his arms to get a look at one of the helicopters.

“C'mon,” Tommy says, handing her to Evan before climbing into the cockpit. He reaches out for her and settles her on his lap while he points to different instruments and tells her what they do. She whispers the names of some of them quietly to herself as if she's trying to memorize them. Hell, she might. She's got the recall ability of both parents and her uncle.

When he looks out at Evan to check on him, his boyfriend has a phone pointed at them.

“Don't mind me,” Evan says cheerily.

It's past the end of his shift when they get back to the front.

“I gotta get her home,” Evan says, reaching for Jee-Yun. She goes with some reluctance, looking longingly back at the door out to the tarmac.

“Before you go,” Captain Marsh says, holding out an LAFD folder. “A present for our special visitor.”

It's the coloring pages and stickers they give out to kids, but theirs are cooler than most LAFD swag, because theirs also includes Air Ops stuff. Tommy had personally illustrated the helicopter and plane pages, and Melton’s husband, who had a side gig writing kid’s books, had written out the captions and a little digestible explanation of what made Air Ops so different than a regular unit.

“Thank you,” Jee-Yun says, hugging the folder to her chest. “I like your station.”

“I like it, too,” Marsh agrees, grinning. “Have a good Valentine's Day, Miss Han.”

Tommy walks them out to the lot, his arm around Evan as they make their way to the Jeep. “Thank you both. This is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had. I really mean that.”

“Me, too,” Evan says, grinning and leaning over to kiss him on the corner of his mouth without breaking his stride.

Tommy helps get Jee-Yun strapped in, gives her another cheek raspberry and a smacking kiss, receives both in return, and then Evan decides to do the same when Tommy leans in for a good-bye kiss.

“You are such a brat,” Tommy complains, wiping slobber off his cheek.

“Well, yeah,” Evan says, grinning. “But I'm your brat.”

Tommy pulls him close and rubs a hand down his back. “Yeah, you are,” he murmurs, smiling at the flush of Evan's cheeks. “You can come by a little early if you want.”

Evan bites his lip and nods, smoothing down the fabric over Tommy's chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tommy confirms before kissing him, sucking gently at Evan's bottom lip and feeling a bolt of heat shoot through his belly when Evan lets out a soft noise against his mouth. When he releases him, Evan looks a bit dazed. “Get her home safe.”

“Y-yeah,” Evan breathes, bumping into his sideview mirror as he backs up toward the driver's side door. Tommy raises an eyebrow at him, and Evan flushes, ducking his head as he gets into his car. As soon as it’s on, he rolls down the window. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you,” Tommy says, raising his hand in a wave.

He waits until the Jeep is gone before going back in. He takes twenty minutes to finish the stock check that had been interrupted, hands it off to Lucy, who had arrived mid-tour for her shift, and tries to ignore the knowing or sappy smiles pointed his way as he gathers his stuff and heads out to his truck. They don’t bother him, he’s just not used to it. He thinks he could learn to get used to it, though.

When he gets home, the groceries are waiting for him on the front step. He takes everything inside and goes to the kitchen, ready to make aroz con pato, since Evan has been reminiscing about the food in Peru on their last date.

While the duck is simmering, he goes into the guest room closet where he has the few boxes of things he hadn't found a place for in the house. Some of it is old paperwork, old uniforms, photos that need to be put into albums, mementos he should probably part with, and one has carefully packed china from his Nonna along with a hand-painted vase that had passed from Bisnonna Valia to his Prozia and then his Zia and now it's his. His Zia had never had children of her own, so he’d ended up with a lot of the Carlevaro family heirlooms when she’d passed. He’d never used the vase, though. The closest he'd ever come to receiving flowers was when people sent them after his mom died.

He wipes down the colorfully painted vase with a damp cloth and then with a dry one before filling it with water and putting the flowers in. He props the card against it and puts the other two on his fridge.

It's quiet in his house, but he knows that soon his doorbell will ring and he'll let in a man who talks almost unceasingly about whatever's on his mind, who will laugh and make Tommy laugh, who will fill the house and Tommy's heart with so much beloved noise that he'll feel it echo in the time they're apart.

And one day, maybe, he won't have to say goodbye unless it's followed by “I'll see you when I/you get home.” And they'll add to the collection of Valentine's Day cards every year until they’re old enough to have to think long and hard about the story behind each one. And inevitably, one of them will remember or someone—Jee-Yun, her children, their own children—will chime in because they've heard it a million times before.

When his doorbell rings, Tommy gets up to answer with a smile on his lips and a lightness in his heart that he doesn't think he's ever felt before.

[corviiids]

sparknotes for my souyo fic 'going on and on and on'

happy year of the souyo in 2025. it's souyo year everyone! (as always don't read the post if you haven't read the fic it won't make sense)

i feel like this is even less of a sparknotes and more of a stream of consciousness than usual but whatever. it's word vomit about interalised homophobia now

first of all the timeline, which fucked with me initially because p4 came out in 2008 and in my head i was like oh, it's set in 2008. it's NOT. it's set in 2011-2. anyway, i did some hurried bad math about it. basically yu and yosuke are a year or so post-college and are roughly 23-24 years old in this fic. nanako is 14-15. the title comes from signs of love because after i outlined the fic i checked out the lyrics to the song and was like hey. i think i just wrote that.

He said, "I'm the one who's got to leave", I said "Nobody's really got to leave 'cause I don't hear enough explanation All I need is admiration" Big frustration, bro, he goes "Life is short, we gave a shot But didn't work, honey, 'cause we had A whole lot going on and on and on"

so this idea of a post-canon souyo has been plaguing me for about a month, then i got sick and at the peak of the sick i rewatched p4a in its entirety so that was that. i think yosuke with internalised homophobia is rightfully a cornerstone of p4 fandom but lately ive been yearning for a quieter and slightly more insidious form, beyond the old standby of 'yosuke overcomes his visible bigotry, one of them confesses, and the relationship starts'. i was like, what if yosuke IS over his bigotry insofar as it applies to other people, and yu's already confessed, and that's still not enough for the relationship to start because yosuke hasn't overcome the mental block it's created for himself without his knowledge? it's harder to overcome that, because yosuke's not aware that he has any qualms left about liking guys, so he doesn't even notice he's in denial. but yu notices, and it hurts him. and go from there.

i really like yosuke a lot. i think he's the most nuanced take on the best friend character out of 3/4/5 even though i obviously have a lot of love for ryuji as well as junpei - it's not necessarily that yosuke is a better or more complex character, but that he plays more with the trope. it's sort of novel because as well as being the fun and fresh bestie (with baggage!) he is also kind of the brains of the outfit and incredibly shrewd, which is rare for the best friend trope. also, all the best friend types are insensitive at times by way of being happy-go-lucky and sort of indelicate, but yosuke also says fucked up insensitive shit in a more blase and less clumsy way, at least as compared to characters who are openly crass - it reads less as rudeness from being unthinking and more as the consequence of an undercurrent of unconscious social biases, which again is more subtle and insidious. pair that with the fact that he's a legitimately reliable, kind, and clever guy, and that makes him a really fun character to write because he never says the obvious thing. pair HIM with yu, arguably the most good-natured and patient of the three protags, and you get a super fun dynamic with the potential for a lot of heartbreak. i know im not saying anything everyone doesnt already know because souyo has been around since the stone age, but listen. souyo is one of those things that's so obviously good and popular it becomes underrated again. it's like shakespeare. yeah souyo is like shakespeare i stand by that. justice and goodness demands that every now and then you sit down and re-realise how good souyo really is.

anyway! that led me to think about, like... if yu confessed before yosuke was ready, yosuke wouldn't shun him but definitely would make it extremely obvious that this was something he wasn't ready to confront. and those socially learned biases would come out in a way that yosuke means totally innocently and even kindly, but which would nevertheless hurt as much or even more as if yosuke had openly shunned yu. the events in my head are that yu confesses to yosuke a couple of years into living together and yosuke promptly compartmentalises that shit and refuses to reflect on it any further and represses anything relevant to thinking more deeply about it. yu, my best friend, is into me. [that's something i can't think about too much.] when i waved him off, he accepted it, so it can't be that serious. [yu is the type of person to shutter his own feelings away instead of bringing them up if he thinks he won't be well-received or might upset someone else, because he's an independent person who cares about others and fears being alone, which means i can't trust him to tell me honestly if he's upset.] i'm safe to assume this is behind us and move on. [i won't think about this again unless it's brought up again. i know yu won't bring it up again.]

"... Back in second year uni—yeah, he told me he was, I dunno, interested, or whatever. I told him I'd never thought about him like that. He said that was okay. And I guess I just—I mean, I never thought about it again.” Rise considers this. “That’s kinda a weird thing to never think about again,” she says. “Your best friend confesses his love to you and you’re just like, OKAY! Really?” When she says it like that, it is kind of weird.

the comment attached to this section in the working doc: "yosuke: am i really a chill guy or is it repression"

in the fic yu mentions he kissed yosuke at least once while drunk. yu being drunk means yosuke has a perfectly good excuse to dismiss that event as a one-off and ignore it too. this is brought up in like one sentence in the fic and neither character addresses it directly or goes back to it to discuss it, and that was very important to me. i think in a lot of pining fic the focus is on the knowledge of whether or not feelings are requited. once it's clear that both parties have feelings for each other, or even that one party has feelings for the other, the major roadblock is cleared and they're able to pursue a relationship, which is why in a lot of 'getting together' fics the climactic event is, understandably, the confession! in reality things can be a lot more complicated than that :( yosuke doesn't know how he feels about yu, but is aware he feels strongly. but yu confessing and even kissing him or doing other things that make his feelings undeniable isn't enough to overcome the difficulty that yosuke is facing internally - it's not enough to make him sit down and go, yu has feelings for me, so should i think about how i feel about him?

on that note, another thing i really wanted to avoid is the idea that yu just moves out because yosuke doesn't reciprocate:

"... And if you really never felt that way about me… if we were only ever going to be friends, I would’ve been fine with that. But if you refuse to face yourself, it’s different. It hurt too much. ..." -- "... You don't want to be ready. You don’t want to confront this about yourself, the idea that you might feel that way about a guy. You want to keep living this way forever, just having fun and hiding away. And I just—I can't do it anymore, okay, Yosuke? I can't keep helping you hide. I can't keep sleeping in the next room, making you breakfast, helping you pretend away the fact that I—” He stops and sighs. “If I'm wrong, and you never felt the same, then I'm wrong. I can live with that. I just need to know you're not running away. I can't keep being your accomplice in that.”

yu's pain doesn't come from his feelings being unrequited, it's that yosuke doesn't respect himself or yu enough to be honest with himself. if yosuke had done his reflection and come to the genuine conclusion that he either doesn't like guys or does but doesn't feel that way about yu, then yu would have accepted that. in another universe i would've written a fic about genuine unrequited love where yosuke just does not feel that way about yu and yu is okay with it because he loves yosuke as his best friend and partner and would be completely fine living with him as his roommate and standing by him as his friend, content to spend time together. the only reason i can't write this fic is just because i personally think yosuke DOES reciprocate... lol. anyway as naoto brings up:

“No… Well, not really,” says Yosuke. “I mean, I guess it does, but it's not him, exactly. I just don't know how to react to this. It's a lot of pressure, you know? Him saying he's serious about me, and that he can't live with me unless I feel the same, or whatever. It's kind of too much. I know Yu likes guys, but I never even thought about that sort of thing, so it's… kind of a blindside.” Naoto seems to pick his next words carefully. “I don't believe it was ever Yu’s intention to present you with an ultimatum,” he says. “I can't imagine he would want to make your friendship contingent on reciprocating his feelings. It's none of my business, but I would encourage you to reevaluate his meaning.”

this maybe feels like a fine distinction, but it's really important for me to make!! yu's never going to hold his friendship hostage because yosuke doesn't reciprocate. this fic has almost nothing to do with how yosuke feels about yu and everything to do with how honest yosuke is with himself, and how THAT affects yu. yu is aware that every moment he spends with yosuke in this state is more time that he's enabling yosuke not to be honest with his own feelings, which forces yu not only to live in a hurtful lie but to be actively complicit in doing so. this is p4 after all! the entire theme is facing yourself and the strength of heart required to face oneself being made manifest. yu endures it for like five years and then eventually realises he can't do it anymore, either from a values perspective or from a self-care perspective. this distinction matters so much to me because of course it's a ship fic and romance tends to be at the heart of ship fic, but yosuke's romantic feelings for yu really aren't at the heart of this conflict at all. i don't want the message to be that yosuke has fixed himself via being gay for his partner. rather, his love for yu in whatever form, and the idea that yu represents the truth for him, forced yosuke to accept the truth about himself and finally enables him and yu to live in an honest way.

ok let's like briefly talk about the other ships and characters. sorry to yukiko who got almost no screentime it just happened that way.

this fic kinda has... every ship?? in it?? which was sort of intentional. i was really trying to push hard with that 'small town' thing of everyone knowing everyone, because this was what yosuke ended up using as his shield against what he was actually avoiding. he thinks it's just that inaba's world is too small and that he doesn't want to be like his friends just dating within their circles, but as yu points out, it's really not a problem to date within your friend group if that's what's working for you. i wanted yosuke to have this easy excuse to start with before eventually realising his problem isn't inaba and the solution isn't tokyo - the problem is inaba when yu isn't there, because it lost its appeal once yu left, and the solution is only tokyo when yu is with him, because tokyo loses its shine when yu leaves there too. the point is that yosuke is looking in completely the wrong direction for what's actually making him happy. his problem wasn't inaba at all, and there's nothing wrong with dating your best friend. ok i said i was gonna talk about other characters but it's yosuke again. let's talk about other characters. my point was that it's kind of a 'and they all lived happily ever after' stereotype to pair all the main characters off, but that was a Literary Decision. ok it was a Choice. i Meant to do that. probably

chie and yukiko to me are just an obvious pair. i actually initially thought about dating yukiko when i did my first p4 run but after doing her dungeon i abandoned that idea entirely because her and chie go through an entire romance arc in about four seconds flat. i dont need to sell anyone on those two. ive always had a real soft spot for kanji and naoto, but i also really like naoto and rise together, so i thought, this would be a fun way to complicate things even further for yosuke by instead of just pairing them off having them all be involved with each other in this web of casual relationships. i didn't tag any of the other ships because to be frank it's just not really about them since yosuke's mostly just focused on himself, so there's not a lot of detail in the fic about what's going on there, so here's like... a chart... btw seven months pass from the beginning of the fic until the end. at the three month mark chie and kanji go to visit yosuke. ok we go

at the start of the fic kanji and naoto are in an on-again-off-again situationship. when kanji visits yosuke at the three-month mark they're still in this state. sometime between this and the point where yosuke visits inaba, kanji and naoto settle and solidify, so by the end of the fic they are in a serious committed relationship.

naoto is bigender because all detective princes are bigender. yosuke didn't ask her pronouns but they're he/she interchangeably. she can be referred to as kanji (and rise)'s boyfriend or girlfriend but usually prefers partner. the others sometimes fumble around with this so sometimes (most often with chie and yosuke) he will just be referred to as kanji and rise's... (confusion) naoto???

rise and naoto get involved while kanji and naoto are still figuring their shit out and aren't exclusive. they are strictly casual and are not looking to be in a long-term relationship.

kanji and naoto are technically open but neither of them is seeing anyone else except for naoto seeing rise. kanji is okay with this but as naoto says in the fic he is still getting used to it. naoto and rise are prepared to end their involvement if at any point kanji decides he's not okay with it anymore. kanji is a little insecure because he isn't sure how much naoto really likes him, but once he realises how serious naoto actually is about him, he will settle down and i think he'll be fine.

rise is not interested in a long-term committed relationship right now at all. she is exceptionally chill about the interconnected relationships and is jealous of nobody. after yu and yosuke get together she and yu will shake hands and go back to being normal friends.

she gets involved with yu after yu moves back to inaba. they refer to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend but it's not that serious. yu is earnestly trying to move on from yosuke (hasn't yet) but is not attempting to do so with rise, they are just having fun. (rise calls herself yu's rebound but this is a joke)

chie and yukiko are each other's girlfriends but might come out of their holiday as fiancees. unclear

teddie is single

so that's the soap opera part of all this

i was personally really fond of the naoto and rise scenes in this, i just liked writing them a lot. naoto really suffers from being the last character added to the party and so just doesn't get the same amount of time to develop her relationship with the group or with any individual party members, which is such a shame, because she is SUCH a fun character. she and yosuke are really interesting because i would argue that (maybe outside of yu) they're the smartest characters in the party and until naoto joins the group it's yosuke filling the niche of the detective, so it's sort of a shame that they never really get to bond. this section also has one of my favourite lines in the fic which i keep expecting someone to call me out on

Whoa. Naoto’s getting more than him? Pint-sized, gender-ambiguous, awkward turtle Naoto Shirogane?

remember when everyone was saying awkward turtle? i just wanted to be true to this being a game from 2008.

anyway, there are two bits of advice to come out of the naoto and rise sections that i thought were most important to yosuke's development in this fic:

Naoto leans forward. “Yosuke,” he says gently. “I know we don't know each other particularly well, but for my part, I’ve always considered you a good friend. Would you accept a bit of well-intentioned advice?” He waits for Yosuke to jerk his head. “It's not a failure of self to admit that you want something. Just remember that, okay?”

and

Yosuke furrows his brow. “You realise it sucks, right?” he asks her. “It sucks people keep talking to me like they know me better than I know me.” Rise shrugs. “Isn’t that what friends are?” she says. “S’not like not knowing yourself makes you a dummy. That’s life. We haven’t got the TV anymore, so you gotta have friends you can count on to… to switch on the Yosuke show and spot your Shadow self when you can’t see it. Persona!”

the latter to me is about the mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever. it's about being vulnerable to others in a way you yourself aren't aware of and accepting that that isn't a bad thing all the time. i kinda want to offer yosuke some grace here as well - as irritatingly oblivious as he is, it IS kind of disconcerting and upsetting to be constantly told things about yourself like everyone thinks they know better, and it can be really uncomfortable to have a relationship with a friend reframed by finding out they feel a way about you that you weren't aware of. the stuff he has to overcome in this fic is more complex than just 'accept he likes guys' - there's a lot of introspection and acceptance required in looking inward and finding out you don't know yourself as well as you thought you did, especially if there's external pressure.

"hey rook, why didn't anybody kiss in this fic?" i personally really enjoy making you read twelve thousand words of pre-relationship and not rewarding you at all. that's the reason.

when i was first outlining the fic, i got to the confrontation that yu and yosuke have at samegawa and thought, okay, this is the part of yosuke's social link where yosuke (atlus?) fumbles his shit hard, because that entire rank reads as leading towards a love confession until yosuke is like "YOU HAVE TO PUNCH ME IN THE FACE."

so in my head i was like, this fic COULD be a fix-it for that. it could be. a different man would end the fic there and have yosuke realise his shit after yu chews him out, and it resolves by yosuke going "this time im going to ask him to kiss me instead of punch me" and then it resolves with a kiss and they live happily ever after. obviously i couldn't do that. it had to be a lot messier than that because of who i am as a person. so i dragged the outline on for another 1.5k or something after that point and the fic itself runs for another 6k.

LIKE THIS POST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I THOUGHT I WOULDN'T HAVE THAT MUCH TO SAY AND THEN IT JUST GOES ON AND ON AND ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wwwrottoncxrecom]

The more the merrier

Pairing: Matz x reader

Summary: Somewhere in there; the three of you had developed a sort of understanding. All three of you knew the connection ran far deeper than platonic. The line between platonic and romantic had long been crossed, leaving you guys with the simple question of, what now?

Warnings: Nothing major, some mlm (they kiss), you all kiss, kissing, slight self doubt but joong shuts that down

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: this feels rushed so if it is i apologize. also credits to @chans-pineapple for plot help !!

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They contacted you for some help on the choreography for their newest unit song. Seonghwa messaged you on instagram, a sweet but straight forward message. “Hi! Me and my friend Hongjoong are working on a new song and we were wondering if you could choreograph it. We love your work! We also want to talk about a possible collaboration in the song also :)” 

You said yes, of course. Plans quickly started to develop and after a month of texting, the three of you met up at a local cafe. The time was used to learn about each other and you quickly learned that you’ll enjoy working with them.

After that, studio time began. Weeks and months spent in such a confined and slightly stressful environment only further strengthened the bond the three of you had managed to form over the months. 

Hours spent writing lyrics, hours spent in their dance studio repeatedly going over the choreography that you meticulously created for the song.

Somewhere between those months, the lines started to blur. Studio time started to shorten to allow for ‘dinner dates’, as Seonghwa had so proudly tilted them. Messages started to stray from business and consisted of plans for hangouts outside of work.

Somewhere in there; the three of you had developed a sort of understanding. All three of you knew the connection ran far deeper than platonic. The line between platonic and romantic had long been crossed, leaving you guys with the simple question of, what now?

The question constantly floats around in your mind, especially now as you walk into the KQ building. You tighten your hold on your gym bag before walking up to the elevator and pressing the button.

It takes barely a minute to reach the fourth floor, the doors to the elevator opening as you step out and make your way to the dance studio. You reach the door and swiftly open it, stepping inside. It’s quiet along with the lights being softly dimmed. 

You look around and quickly assert you're the first of the three to arrive. You weren’t surprised, having hoped this would happen. After setting your bag down, you set your phone up to the speakers and start to stretch.

As you stretch you think of your goal for today’s solo run. Watching the video you took of yourself practicing only served to disappoint you instead of uplifting you like you wanted. The dance wasn’t what you felt it could be. What it should be. 

So, after thorough stretching, you get to work. You play the beat the first time to get a feel of it. The second time you play it, you start the dance. It flows easily, something you can do with your eyes closed. It just doesn’t feel right. Something feels like it’s missing. Something is wrong-

“I can practically hear your thoughts from here.” The voice makes you turn, and you are met with Hongjoong. He’s standing by the door, leaning against the wall with a small smile on his face. 

You laugh and turn the music off, wiping your forehead with your sleeve. He approaches you, his eyes scanning your figure quickly before looking at your eyes.

“Something just feels wrong. I don’t feel like I’m giving this my all.” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow as he processes your words. Once the words process, he frowns. He whispers your name in what sounds almost akin to disappointment.

“You’ve been doing amazing. Everyone can see how much effort you’ve put into perfecting this. Me and Seonghwa appreciate everything you’ve done for us. How about, we work on it together and you tell me where the issue is?” You like that idea, so you nod slowly. He smiles and sets his bag down next to yours.

“Let’s get to work.”

——

It takes an hour before you feel satisfied enough to take a break from the dance. Hongjoong had been nothing but patient and helpful throughout the hour. Putting his input in where it felt needed, and helping when asked.

“Thank you. I really appreciate the help.” You smile at him as you say that and he smiles back. Hongjoong sips his water before replying, his eyes on your lips. You shift slightly when you notice where his eyes are, and they quickly move back to your eyes.

“Of course. You’ve done so much for us, it’s the least I can do.” He set his water bottle down and turned, his face a light pink as he does. Just as you go to say something, his phone goes off.

Hongjoong grabs it silently, reading the message before closing his phone and grabbing all of his belongings. “Seonghwa’s in the studio.” You nod and stand up, gathering your own things.

The two of you walk to the studio in silence, but there’s an unspoken tension there. A tension that always lingers between the three of you, a tension you three chose to constantly ignore. 

A part of you hoped the tension would be acknowledged one day, that the three of you would finally face the unavoidable. That maybe one day, you guys would finally do something about it. 

Hongjoong opens the door for you, and you softly mumble a thank you before walking inside. The lights are dimmed and Seonghwa is sitting at a desk writing down lyrics.

“Hey Hwa.” You speak quietly to not scare him and to also announce your presence. He looks good, his hair is tied into a half bun, some of it framing his face despite his obvious attempt to get it out of his face.

He turns and smiles widely, setting his pen down so he can fully turn to face the two of you. His eyes flicker between you and Hongjoong, before they move up and down both of you. He suddenly looks away and clears his throat.

“Hey guys! I’ve been waiting for you.” He hands Hongjoong his notebook, allowing the younger man to look over the lyrics he has written so far. Hongjoong takes it and looks over the words.

“I hope it wasn’t for long.” Seonghwa shakes his head to your words, waving a hand as if to dismiss such worries. He stands and walks over to the recording booth.

“Only about 15 minutes, I haven’t been here long.” Hongjoong makes a noise of approval, setting the notebook down and moving to set his computer up. Once it’s set up, he gives Seonghwa the ok to go into the recording booth.

The three of you are in and out of the recording booth the next couple hours. If one of you wasn’t in the booth, then you were working on lyrics or beats for the song. By the time a break is even thought of it’s been four hours of non stop work.

The tension is there, swimming around in the air and tightening its grip on each of your throats. The room is quiet except for your breathing. Suddenly, there’s a voice cutting through the tension.

“How long are we gonna keep avoiding the elephant in the room.” Hongjoong is the one who speaks up, his eyes flicking between you and Seonghwa. He moves closer, taking botj of your chins in his hands.

“I know you two feel it. The tension, the feelings we obviously have for each other.” He leans down until his breath is brushing against your face.

“Hongjoong-“ “Shh.” He softly kisses you and any complaints die on your tongue. You quickly kiss back, your hands moving to grip at his shirt like he’s your life line.

There’s a soft gasp behind you, and Joong pulls away to look at Seonghwa. There seems to be a silent conversation there before Joong grind and pulled Seonghwa into a heated kiss. 

You watch with wide eyes, not expecting to kiss, and especially not the way they were kissing right now. After a couple minutes the two pull away, leaving a trail of spit connecting them.

The room is back to silent, before Seonghwa is suddenly kissing you. You kiss back eagerly, your hands moving to his cheeks to cup them.

“It’s about time we did this.”

[bookyeom]

pairing: Joshua x reader word count: 3.1k warnings: kissing, a swear or two, bad jokes

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

This one is based semi in reality (the laughs bit). Can you even believe?

shortcut to heaven by lullaboy

oh my god, what a blessing out of ten, you’re eleven

you make it worth all of the waiting somebody patient, somebody kind

10:54pm.

You technically shouldn’t be cleaning up before the doors officially close at 11:00, but it’s been a slow night, so you figure it can’t hurt. You’re sweeping the farthest corner of the cafe when you hear a new song start to play over the speakers, and you let out a cheer. 

“You’re welcome!” You can hear your coworker shout from his spot behind the counter, where he’s  preemptively cleaning the espresso machine. 

“You rock,” comes your returning yell. 

You love the nights you get to close with Joshua. He wants to get out of there just as quickly as you do, so he’ll break the rules a little and help you clean early when there’s no customers. Plus, he has great taste in music. Since you work the same closing shift three nights a week, the two of you usually split the AUX, but you wouldn’t really mind if he controlled the sound for the entire eight hours.

The song that’s just begun to play is a new favourite of yours that you’d sent him over text last week, and it makes you feel all sorts of giddy that he remembered and played it over the speaker for you.

You hear the espresso machine begin its loud cleaning cycle, and you’re impressed that Joshua had the guts to switch it off completely already. It’s 10:58 now, but if your boss knew, he’d have a fit. You finish sweeping, bringing the broom and dustpan back to the corner it rests in by the counter, and then you jog over to the front door. You turn the lock and flip the sign to CLOSED with a dramatic flourish, and when you turn back, you meet Joshua’s eyes. He’s laughing, and you shoot him a grin. 

“Risky,” is all he says, and you snort. You’re about to tease him back when the landline phone for the cafe rings, and Joshua easily uses a free hand to hold it out for you. You make a face as you recognize the number, but you pick up regardless.

“Hello?”

Your boss’s voice rings out over the line, and you wince. You roll your eyes, putting on a show for Joshua, and you’re rewarded with another soft laugh as he shakes his head. You watch as he finishes wiping down the espresso machine, meticulously scrubbing the syrup shot cups and dumping out the grinds, as you listen to your boss drone on about something being dropped off in the morning. You agree to pass on the message for the girls opening the next day, stifling a sigh as your boss then rambles on about what needs to be done during the closing shift as if you haven’t been doing them for months now. He finally hangs up after you offer a polite laugh in return to one of his lame jokes, and you hand the phone back to Joshua with a grimace. 

“What joke did he tell that time?”

You stretch your arms out over the counter dramatically, leaning forward to rest on them with a yawn. “How do you know he told me a joke?”

“Because he always does.” You pout as Joshua throws a cleaning cloth at you, and you force yourself back into an upright position. “And,” Joshua continues as he heads towards the door to the stockroom at the back, “that was your ‘you just told a joke that was absolutely not funny but I’m too nice to tell you that’ laugh.” He disappears around the corner, and it takes you a second to register what he’s just said to you. 

Your what laugh?

You grab the cleaning spray from under the sink and head towards the tables in the cafe, settling into your usual closing routine with Joshua. As he restocks what’s necessary, you clean the tables and the washrooms, brows furrowing as you replay what Joshua said in your mind. 

You’re distracted when he emerges from the back and turns the music up, and you finish up your closing list in no time. 

Joshua waits as you lock up, and as you head to your cars, he listens diligently as you finish the story you were telling him. 

“She’s here everyday and gets the same thing every time! I’m not trying to judge people’s coffee orders, but she orders a quadruple-shot Americano at 5pm. Is she okay?” 

Joshua shrugs as he unlocks his car. He peers over the hood at you, lips pursed as though he’s thinking, and then he says, “I don’t know, but you’re right. A four-shot black Americano is definitely a sad drink. A Despresso, if you will.”

You let out the loudest groan known to man as he absolutely beams, proud of himself. You can’t help it — you burst into laughter. 

“Horrible,” you manage, trying to roll your eyes, but you’re still giggling. 

“Ah,” Joshua grins. “See? There’s the laugh you have when you actually find something funny.”

You’re taken by surprise again at the comment. His words make you flush a little, but you’re quick to respond. “No way. That’s impossible, see, because you’re not funny.”

Joshua gasps. “Rude,” he says, scandalized, and you laugh again, lifting your hand in a wave as you open your car door. 

“Bye,” you say in response, grin still wide on your lips. He shakes his head, but he’s laughing, too, and you consider it mission accomplished. “See you on Friday, Shua.”

You’re having the worst day ever.

First, you hadn’t been able to sleep because of the wind and rain outside your window. When you’d finally stumbled out of bed at 11:00am, you remembered that you were out of milk which meant that you a) couldn’t have a bowl of your favourite comfort cereal, and b) you couldn’t have your morning coffee. When you managed to force yourself to get dressed and out the door to the cafe down the street, they’d been out of your favourite muffin and their espresso machine was being serviced. Last but not least, you’d forgotten to move your clothes from the washer to the dryer the night before, and the load you’d done had included your favourite work shirt — the new one all the employees had been given recently that was plain black instead of the old ugly, vomit shade of yellow-green. So here you are, pulling up to clock in for your shift, wearing the ugliest shirt known to man because you’d forgotten to dry your other one. You think the giant coffee stain on the collar that you’d never been able to wash out really adds to the appeal, too. And when you step in a puddle on your way to the door that almost entirely soaks your left shoe, you barely even flinch.

You’re in a daze as you half heartedly greet your coworkers. One of them simply lets out an ‘oof’ from behind the cash register at the sight of you, and you’re inclined to agree. You head into the breakroom at the back, grabbing your apron from the locker and turning your head only briefly when the door opens behind you. 

“Hey,” Joshua greets.

“Hey,” you return quietly, turning back to fix your ponytail in the mirror. You can feel Joshua looking at you and you face him, your eyebrows raised in question. “What?”

He shrugs, and you watch as his eyes take note of your puke-coloured shirt. “Nothing,” he says after a moment, and you cross your arms. 

“Go on then,” you say. “Get the teasing out of the way now.”

Joshua grabs his own apron, lifting it over his head. You watch as he smiles while reaching to tie it behind his back, meeting your eyes again as he does. “What would I possibly have to tease you about? You look like my favourite movie protagonist.”

You blink. “What? Who?”

Joshua deadpans, smoothing down his apron and beaming as he replies smoothly, “Shrek.”

You pout. He dissolves into laughter, and you hate that you’re genuinely upset by his teasing, but you’ve just had the worst day ever and you can’t help it. You turn away from him, trying to compose yourself as you let out a forced laugh of your own. “Funny,” you say, trying to appear way less upset than you are.

”Hey,” Joshua says softly, and you close your locker door. The last thing you want is for him to feel bad for you right now.

“Let’s go. It’s almost 2:00,” you say, and you’re about to brush past him when he gently grabs your elbow. 

“Hey,” he says, and when you meet his eyes, you can tell he genuinely feels bad for teasing you. “I’m sorry.”

He searches your face, concern written all over his, and your shoulders relax just a little. “It’s okay. It was funny,” you offer. 

“I know it was, but you gave me your ‘I would normally find this funny but something is wrong’ laugh.” 

“Okay, now that’s ridiculous.” 

Joshua searches your face. It’s not lost on you that he’s still got a gentle grip on your arm as he says, “So you’re telling me nothing’s wrong?” 

You open and close your mouth for a moment. For some reason, you want to tell him everything. Instead, you settle for, “I’m okay, Shua. Thanks.” 

He nods slowly in response, seemingly deciding not to question you further. Then he reaches into his locker and pulls something out, holding it towards you. “Here. I keep a spare one just in case.” When you don’t say anything, dumbfounded, he drapes the black t-shirt over your shoulder and smiles. “It’s clean, don’t worry. And I really don’t mind if you wear it.” 

Before you can process any of it, he’s disappeared out into the cafe. When you emerge a few minutes later, he’s already clocked you in so that you’re not late, and the rest of your shift passes without a single comment on the black t-shirt you’ve changed into.

You’re staring again.

It’s a bit slow at the cafe this evening, and your eyes stay on Joshua as he leans against the counter, scrolling on his phone for a song he wants to show you. He’s laughing as he explains how he’d discovered it, blissfully unaware of the way you’re gazing at him like he’s the sun incarnate. You wish you could blame your unprofessionalism on the fact that you’re bored, but the truth of it is, simply, that your coworker has the most delightful laugh.

You’ve known Joshua for a couple of months now. You’d clicked immediately during your first shift together, and it had been easy from then on out. Even on your worst days, everything is a little better with him there. He greets every customer with a friendly greeting and a smile, and he never complains. His smile makes your day, and his laugh… you’re starting to realize that it does something to you. 

It doesn’t help that he’s often laughing at your jokes. Or commenting on your many different laughs, which you’ve come to learn are plenty. Since that closing shift when he’d first mentioned it, he’s pointed out at least five different laughs of yours. If you’re honest, it’s got you entirely flustered. Joshua has always been kind to you, and you would even argue that you’re friends now… but do friends pay this much attention to one another?

You think about it all day. You think about it when he calls out a drink order to you with a smile; you think about it when he goes on his break and you miss him the entire time. You think about it when you meet eyes throughout your shift; you think about it when he hides the last chocolate chip muffin from customers so you can have it on your lunch.

You’re still thinking about it as the day nears its close. As usual, you find yourself a bit bummed about the end of your shift. Not because you want to work – you don’t – but because you know you won’t see Joshua for at least two days after this. 

You’ve been on beverages all afternoon, and you’re grateful when the post-work rush keeps you busy. You’re making your third decaf latte in the last thirty minutes, and you thank the customer politely when you hand them their drink. You offer a polite smile and a laugh as they make a joke about how silly decaffeinated coffee is, really, and you’ve just turned back to the espresso machine when you nearly run into Joshua. He leans past you to hand the same customer a muffin he’d warmed up in the microwave before he meets your eyes.

“That was your customer service laugh,” he says, low enough for only you to hear, and you flush.

You can’t help it as you say, “You pay an awful lot of attention to me, Mister Hong.”

Joshua chuckles, not fazed in the slightest that you’ve pointed it out. He just smiles. “You’re hard not to pay attention to.” 

His admittance is soft, nonchalant. And when he leaves you at the espresso machine to tend to the next customer, you stand there for a few moments, staring blankly at the metal of the machine in front of you. Even after you’ve kickstarted your brain into working again, his words bounce around in your head for the rest of your shift. 

And for the next few days.

It starts off just like any other day.

You arrive ten minutes before your shift – as usual. Joshua arrives soon after, and you forget how to breathe for a minute when he says hello – as usual. Then you spend the rest of your day wondering if he’s flirting with you, or just being really, really nice – as usual. 

Just another ordinary day.

Until you and Joshua find yourselves soaked from head to toe in coffee and hot water. 

“I’ve told him so many times that we need a new one,” you mutter helplessly as the two of you stare at the broken machine. You’re angry, but mostly you’re just tired from going to war with the espresso machine. 

You’d been cleaning it after the last customer had left when it had begun to spray coffee grinds and brown, grimy water all over you and your apron. Joshua had rushed out immediately as soon as he’d heard you gasp, and the two of you had done everything in your power to stop it. You’d won in the end – but at what cost?

Joshua sighs, humming in agreement as a hand rubs at his jaw. “We’ll let him deal with it in the morning. It’s not your fault at all.” He turns to you, a hand lifting to your shoulder as he says softly, “Are you sure you’re not hurt? The water didn’t burn you?” 

You shake your head, offering him a tired smile. “I’m good, Shua. Did it get you at all?”

“I’m okay.” 

He smiles back, giving your arm a squeeze before he turns, and you watch as he slides down slowly to sit on the floor. You let out an exhausted laugh before you join him, resting your head back against the counter in a mirror image. He glances over at you at the sound of your laughter, a smile lifting the corner of his lips. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He just gazes at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what kind of laugh that one was?” You ask, voice low in the quiet of the closed coffee shop. Joshua’s smile grows wider as he finally looks away. It takes you a moment longer to look away from him, though. He’s got the tiniest smear of coffee grains on his cheek, and you wonder what he’d do if you reached out to brush them off. 

“Does it bother you?”

You blink out of your daze. “What?”

Joshua picks at a thread on his jeans. Neither of you has the energy to lift your heads from the cupboard behind you, and you can’t imagine what the two of you look like right now — covered in coffee grinds and dirty water as you sit side-by-side, slumped on the floor behind the counter. 

“You know,” Joshua says softly, gesturing vaguely, “the whole laugh thing.”

You look at him again in surprise. “Oh.” You bite your lip, looking down at your hands. You shake your head. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.” You flush as you add quietly, “It’s nice that someone notices stuff like that about me.” 

You can feel Joshua’s eyes on you again. “I like that you have so many different laughs.” He pauses. “It’s versatile.”

You let out a snort at that, and when you meet his gaze to roll your eyes, you’re stopped by the way he’s smiling at you. 

Then he says, as soft as ever, “I like your laugh a lot, actually.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as his eyes fall to your mouth. “Laughs,” you correct shakily as your gaze finds his mouth, too. “Plural.”

“Right,” he murmurs with a smile, “laughs. All of them.”

You don’t know who begins to lean in first. All you know is that he’s so pretty, even with his coffee-stained apron and his coffee-grind-covered cheek. Even as you both seem to forget that you’re filthy when his hand finds your chin and tilts you up to meet his mouth. 

He’s pretty, and his lips are so warm, and it’s over way too soon. 

But his hand is still on your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You can’t help it — you let out a small, breathless laugh, and Joshua’s smile spreads wide. 

“That one’s new,” he whispers. 

“I think that one means ‘finally’.”

His answering smile is so fucking soft that you think you melt right on the spot. When he stands up and holds out a hand to help you, he pulls you up and right into his chest, and you have a feeling the closeness isn’t an accident. The way you pull him even closer by his apron isn’t, either.

And it’s definitely not an accident when he kisses you again, pushing you gently against the coffee-stained counter.

“I was really hoping to do this off the clock,” Joshua muses against your lips, “but I’m not upset at all that I’m being paid overtime to kiss you right now.”

A/N: sorry this took so long, there’s been a lot going on in my life!! Thanks for waiting xx

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[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

"You got the best of me."

Wips, different colours and context below the cut. (TW: Religious themes)

If you're curious, this illustration is based on a comic (which is based on a fan fiction) I worked on for a long time called "You Got the Best of Me". Yes, it's a BTS song. It's a good B-side.

The idea is that traveller!Antonio finds his way to a small, wayward tomato farmed owned by this grumpy man called Lovino. He's the son of the village's head priest who had passed away from cancer when he was a child, not long after his younger brother, Feliciano was born.

Feliciano was always sickly and couldn't do very much. He was a crybaby. He was kind of pathetic but always cheerful and Lovino loved him very much, and worked hard to support him.

Growing up, Feliciano became very religious like their grandfather and trained to become a priest. Lovino didn't exactly disapprove, since it meant Feliciano would be taken care of, but he didn't believe in God as much as he used to. Afterall, God let his grandfather—the epitome of Godfearring—die so painfully. Feliciano tries his best to reconnect but their difference in faith made it difficult.

In the present day, Antonio and Lovino met when Antonio just stumbles into a village party one day. He leans against an empty barrel, exhausted, until someone taps his shoulder. He turns around and sees a handsome, albeit drunk as fuck young man giving him a bottle of alcohol, telling him to cheer up and drink. Antonio fell in love at first sight. That smile was gorgeous.

They meet again the next day when Antonio walks into the church and sees the same young man sitting at the back. The young man didn't say no when Antonio sits with him, and doesn't do anything when Antonio talks to him and asks to share his Bible.

After service, they walk around the church in silence and they go to a quiet stretch of meadow where Antonio plays some childhood songs on his guitar. Antonio was surprised when Lovino knew the words and could speak Spanish. Lovino said the 'weirdos' his grandfather made friends with taught him whatever he knew, which was surprisingly a lot.

They continue chatting and without knowing, it had been hours.

"Brother, it's lunch time," Feliciano said softly.

Lovino screamed. "H-how the fuck did you find me?"

Feliciano laughed as he pointed to the footsteps in the ground. "There's coffee! No alcohol, don't drink so much." Feliciano acknowledged Antonio with a curtsey and a suspicious glance. Lovino did not always have the best judgement.

The three of them walked together, Lovino walked ahead because he was hungry and knew that he needed to explain himself. Antonio and Feliciano introduced themselves. Feliciano was not as paranoid as before—Antonio seemed like a nice person. Antonio liked that Feliciano took things well despite his sickliness and hoped that he would get better soon. Feliciano gave him a look.

Antonio understood immediately. Feliciano was unnervingly pale and skinny. The only thing about him that was strong was his will to live. Antonio promised to never talk about it again and Feliciano smiled.

A few months go by and Antonio was helping Lovino harvest tomatoes and that was when Lovino pulls him aside and asks, "Do you know about my grandfather?" Antonio said vaguely because he and Feliciano slipped it in conversations here and there. Lovino nodded and then elaborated more on what Antonio 'vaguely' knew. Lovino usually wasn't this open so what happened now?

"Doctors said Feliciano won't have longer than a year left."

Antonio felt devastated. He did not know them for very long and yet he knew Feliciano was one of the better sort of people out there. He could only imagine how painful it must be for Lovino—his own brother!

"Is God trying to take a piss at me?" Lovino said angrily. "For not believing? For fucking giving up? For calling Him a bastard? If He feels bad, then maybe He should stop fucking killing everyone I love! My own family, Antonio! What the fuck is wrong with Him?"

Antonio listened. Lovino started ugly sobbing, understandably so. Antonio nodded.

"Feliciano's a good kid. He's always doing his fucking best. He never whored around, he's always nice. He cooked for old ladies. He prays and reads the Bible every fucking day. Why do you Hate your own, God? Is it because he's dating some guy? Well, I don't like the blonde son of a bitch either but I won't kill them. What the fuck is your problem? Aren't you the good one?"

Antonio pat his back. And then, Lovino said, "Why can't He just kill me instead? Let Feliciano go. Let him be happy."

"That won't change anything."

"Yeah that fucking won't but at least I won't be sad."

"Well, I would."

Lovino looked at Antonio like he was crazy.

"But you'll fucking bounce in what? A week? Two weeks? I know your type. You idiots never fucking stay in one place, always running around, bumming around without doing anything proper. Piss off, Antonio. You'll find another one in China or some shit."

"No, Lovino. I care about you. I don't want you to die. Feli's not dead yet. What would he say?"

"He'd tell me to pray."

"Praying isn't dying, sí?" Antonio said. The sun was setting and the birds were chirping. Antonio picked up a plump tomato from the ground, wiped it with his shirt and gave it to Lovino. "Eating this beautiful tomato won't cure you or Feli of your pain but it sure tastes really nice."

Lovino laughed at that childish response. He ate the tomato and smiled. It was quite delicious. Antonio thought he looked like an angel when he smiled, especially now. They looked at each other with an unspoken emotion, something at the tip of their tongue. Antonio knew it a bit better than Lovino but it was still scary because it meant giving up his freedom to stay here.

Forever.

Of course, he can talk about travelling with Lovino but he knew lazy bastard wouldn't want to do anything. He could try to get Lovino out of the house. He could lose his dignity and leave and reclaim that freedom. He could... Lovino laughed again and that smile was gorgeous.