#because it was the first thing i've felt even remotely good about

[brain-rot-central]

I appreciate the tags for snippet Sundays and wip Wednesdays. I see them and I appreciate you thinking of me. I've just been suffering from horrible embarrassment at myself over everything I write lmao

[miupow]

ℌOℓเ𝔇AY 𝔇ECOɌATเNɠ ⸝⸝ 휴닝카이

asking your favorite i.t guy for help decorating goes horribly (or perfectly) wrong. 一 𝒾n 𝓌hich you and your coworker huening kai get stuck in a closet together during a snowstorm。

⧼ 🎄 ⧽ 一 𝓅airing・hueningkai x fem!reader 𝓰enre/𝓌arnings・smut, fluff, pwp, nsfw, minors do not interact! trapped in a closet trope, power outages, sex with the lights off, groping, breast worship, nipple sucking, dry humping, handjobs, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, pullout method, vaginal sex, cumshot, cum marking, begging, slight sub!kai but not really, praise kink, size kink, resolved romantic and sexual tension 𝓌c ・5. 9 k | 𝓉o 𝓁ibrary.

[𝓃otes。] holy shit this is so much longer than i meant for it to be. i was just possessed by some sort of demon and wrote this thing in two days, which is the fastest i've ever written anything ever... thank you @jellymochii for betareading! hope you all enjoy this cute little fic while on your holiday breaks ^_^

no one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan a party. maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you— though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you in blind hope that you’ll manage to impress some higher-up somewhere along the line. you had only been hired at txt bank a few months ago, anyway, and the lady you replaced was the one who oversaw all the holiday decorating. didn’t that mean, technically speaking, that by association it was now your job too? either way, you figured that it would do you some good to prove yourself dependable.

“i’m sure you’ll do great,” your boss, yeonjun had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

you were terrified to ask for help. you didn’t even know most of your coworkers’ names yet, let alone feel comfortable enough with them to ask for help with a benefit-less side quest. it might just be paranoia, but you were sure they wouldn’t want to help you even if you did ask. the old financial analysist seems to have been a popular staple in the office, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good— you’ve never had any of your peers reach out to you for more than letting you know what you were doing wrong. yeonjun’s assistant, beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable with, having known him since you were a freshman in college, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before you made it to the new year.

naturally, you run to him first.

“you don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “why don’t you ask kai? you know he’ll say yes— hell, you could probably ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s not obsessed.” you retort weakly, rolling your eyes. “he’s just being nice.”

“sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“i asked him to that first time!” you pout. “the parking garage is scary when it’s dark out…”

huening kai worked in the bank’s i.t. department, down in the basement. even then, you still saw him often, the poor boy constantly running up and down those stairs whenever he was called. he was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began at the company, offering his assistance with anything you needed— it was an honest godsend, because the computer software went so far over your head it made you dizzy. you still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was mostly because it was difficult to focus on what kai was saying when he was bent over you so closely and intimately, explaining equations and spreadsheets with that soft, gentle voice of his. you only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he told you ever stuck… but that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

beomgyu says that kai has a crush on you. you’re certain he’s just that sweet and friendly with everyone. 

as much as you hate it, beomgyu’s right that kai would help you out if you asked him to. you feel bad for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t assisting people, but if beomgyu won’t help you he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. when you see him again later that evening, smiling that pretty lopsided smile that gives your tummy butterflies, offering to walk you through the parking garage again, you ask him meekly if he’d help you decorate for the office christmas party.

he accepts a little more enthusiastically than you had anticipated he would. “there’s a storage closet down in the basement that has some old decorations from last year’s party.” he tells you as you dig around in your purse for your car keys, “i can show it to you sometime if you’d like! it’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. i’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“isn’t there supposed to be a snowstorm tomorrow?” you ask. “yeonjun told me he’ll let everyone go home early if it starts getting really bad. maybe we can stay behind then?”

“ooh, sneaky.” kai giggles. “sounds like a plan!”

your heart raced the entire drive home. it was just going through some old dusty decorations, it wasn’t a date or anything even close to it, but why did your heartbeat flutter like it was one? that night you tossed and turned, unable to sleep— no matter how hard you tried to clear your head you couldn’t stop thinking about your plans with kai. part of you was nervous you would land in trouble with yeonjun if you were caught snuck around the office after hours, but all of that anxiety was drowned out effortlessly by your excitement and anticipation. alone? with kai? it might not be a date to him, but it sure was one to you.

by the time exhaustion finally overtook you, rays of light from the rising sun were already beginning to stream through the gap in your curtains. you get only a few hours of sleep before your morning alarm forces you awake. you’re tired and groggy, and can barely stay awake to get dressed and ready for work, but the sight of fresh falling snow out your window revitalizes you better than any cup of coffee. frigid, bitter wind slaps you in the face as you leave your house, your flimsy scarf and coat doing little to shield you from the brewing blizzard, but you can’t find it in you to be unhappy even as you nearly slip and break your neck getting to your car. this is exactly what you were hoping for, and a quick glance at your phone confirms that the snowfall is only going to get worse.

you find it difficult to focus all day, partly because of your nerves and partly because you kept looking out the office windows to admire the snow. seoul turns nearly invisible below you, all the streets and buildings covered in a sparkling, dazzling blanket of pure white that blinds you. it was oddly peaceful, the swirling snowfall silencing the usually loud and bustling city.

by lunchtime, you couldn’t see anything outside at all. the snowflakes turn rapidly to sleet and ice, and the wind picks up to the point it’s howling and shaking the windows. yeonjun began sending people home at two, and by four the office was silent for an entirely different reason.

you tell yeonjun that you have some extra statements to go through, but that you’ll be leaving shortly— you even make a show out of packing up your purse, going extra slow just in case he wants to stay and chat. thankfully, he exits the office without much fuss, reminding you to drive carefully, and to tell security when you’re leaving so they could lock up behind you.

“of course, sir, thank you. have a good night.” you reply with a tight smile, praying that you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

once you hear the exit doors close behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. kai meets you at the stairs, grinning and waving excitedly with his bag slung over his shoulder. “it shouldn’t take very long, the closet’s pretty small,” he says, ushering you to follow him. “i want us both to get out of here before the storm gets any worse.”

while you certainly wouldn’t mind spending extra time alone with kai, the last thing you want is to get snowed in at the office. he leads you down a dimly lit hallway, flanked on each side by identical personal offices. the rooms were empty and dark, devoid of any signs of life or activity— it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing how everyone had left for the day, but something about the uncanny, isolated atmosphere gave you the creeps. kai continues to lead you to the very end of the hall, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. a keypad fixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“this is the closet you were talking about?” you question, eyeing the door oddly. “it doesn’t look like a storage closet at all. why’s it got a keypad?”

“it used to be a server room, i think. there’s still some equipment in the back.” kai responds lightly, bending over slightly to plug in the code for the keypad. “now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need, though only my department can use it. expensive computers and whatnot. after last year’s christmas party i helped put away everything, and i stored it all in here ‘cos i was too lazy to take it all the way to the top floor.”

the keypad beeps and the little blinking light turns green. kai pulls the door open and gestures you inside.

the air in the storage closet is stale and dusty. you search in the dark for the light switch, but kai locates it with ease, and you find yourself having to blink hard a couple of times to adjust to the near-blinding fluorescent light. against each wall countless labeled boxes and tubs are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim. a line of folding chairs leaned up against a broken desk, a ladder and some cleaning supplies occupied a far corner. as kai had said, abandoned old server racks had been pushed to the very back of the room, collecting dust, far too outdated to be of any use anymore. the room was small and narrow with no windows, barely enough room to move around besides the carefully constructed walkway that wove between all the junk. you feel awfully claustrophobic, especially with kai’s tall, broad frame stepping in behind you. you both toss your bags to an empty spot on the floor, and the door swings shut with a dull click.

you can still hear the storm outside, even down here. the wind howls and whips around viciously, and the sleet pummels the walls like thousands of tiny bullets.

“there should be a fake tree in here somewhere,” huening murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way towards the back of the closet. his chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his broad pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “and some wreaths and ribbons and things. i think i hid them all back here so i wouldn’t get in trouble.”

you laugh airily, a little too distracted to fully pay attention to what he was saying. “you? in trouble? i don’t think yeonjun has the heart.”

kai shrugs, opening a random cardboard box and peering inside. “you’d be surprised. you haven’t been here long enough to see what he’s capable of— oh, by the way, how are you liking it here so far? getting the hang of everything?”

you should probably be helping him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt. “i, um. i’m still figuring it out. i really appreciate your help.”

the blizzard grows even louder outside, to the point it’s beginning to frighten you. you don’t think you’ve ever heard of a snowstorm causing a building’s walls to cave in, but there’s always a first for everything.

if kai notices that you haven’t moved from where you stood by the door, he doesn’t mention it. “no need to thank me! i’m happy to, really. i’ll help you out with whatever you need anytime, y/n, you just have to ask. you know you can count on me.” he moves on to another box, seemingly still searching in vain for those decorations. ”who’s your favorite coworker? if you have one, i mean—ah, that’s a stupid question. it’s probably beomgyu.”

kai’s tone changed suddenly, from happy and bright to something you couldn’t quite place. you’ve never heard kai sound like that before. “what do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head to the side.

he looks as if he’s weighing the question, biting the inside of his round cheek as his eyes look everywhere except at your face. “well, i mean, like… he’s your friend, right? and you and him have known each other for years now. you hang out with him every day, outside of work too, going to the bar and whatever. and you’re always talking about him, and laughing at his jokes, and looking his stupid face and his stupid hair—”

you’re not sure how to quite process that. “actually, kai… my favorite coworker is you.”

kai’s head spins around so fast that you’re afraid it’s going to come off, his big brown eyes wide with shock. “wait, what? really?!”

“yes, really.” you giggle, “i thought you would have known that, silly. beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. you’ve just been so sweet to me when nobody else has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… it really means a lot.”

kai’s face turns an adorable shade of pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. “oh. well. um. th-thank you. i—” he averts his eyes back to all the boxes, shyly lowering his head. his long dark bangs fall into his eyes, shielding the unreadable emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “i’m glad you feel that way… i can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, i’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—”

just then, the light flickers, pops, and plunges both of you back into complete and total darkness.

“—out.”

it’s so dark inside the storage closet that you can’t even see your hands in front of your face— if you screw your eyes shut and open them again, it makes no difference, completely blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. “shit!” kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so, some loud stumbling and crashing coming from your left. “hold on, i’ll get us out of here—”

more crashing and banging, now moving your way; you open your mouth to warn him far too late, and kai barrels into you, nearly knocking you over. “sorry!” he yelps, outstretching his arm to break your fall and instead grabbing a fat fistful of your breast. he doesn’t seem to even notice, his hands large and warm and squeezing a little too tightly, seeping through the thin material of your blouse and bra and making a very unwelcome heat bloom between your legs.

“um, kai,” you stutter, trying your hardest to keep your voice level, “that’s… my boob.”

kai tears his hand away as if it were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself immediately missing his touch. “i’m so sorry!” he repeats in a rush, stumbling over his words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. you’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish the lights were on so you could see it. “i— i, i  didn’t mean to, i swear!”

“i know you didn’t,” you reassure him quickly, reaching out your own arms to help him squeeze himself by. with your help, he manages to slip his way past you, towards the general vicinity of the doorway, his feet knocking over things all the way there. you can hear him pressing buttons rapidly on the keypad, the device making no noise or beeping any lights— kai curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the dark room.

“we’re stuck in here.” kai mutters in dismay.

“what do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“the door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only way to unlock it… and it turned off along with the power. it’s alright though, the backup generator should turn on any minute now…”

the two of you stand around in silence for a long pregnant pause. the power does not turn back on.

“or not.” he gripes. “okay, this is fine, we’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone flashlight…”

kai rummages around in his pockets before pulling out what you assume is his phone. you anticipate seeing the little flashlight to finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but it never comes. “…and my phone’s dead. great. just great.”

“you really need to get better about charging that thing.” you quip sarcastically. “how many times have you asked to borrow my charger? now i only bring it because i know you’ll need it.”

“i know, i didn’t— wait, really? just for me?”

you don’t respond to his question, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “my phone should still have a charge.” you say, attempting to change the subject, “but i left it in my purse. i’m gonna try and grab it.”

carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the corner of the room, where you were at least mostly certain that you and kai had placed down your bags. kai follows you closely, his large hands balanced on your shoulders to keep him steady… a fine ideas at first, when you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all.

you manage to only make it a few short steps before your kitten heel catches on something rolling around on the ground— kai must have knocked the contents of a few boxes over on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like christmas ornaments, as ironic as it is. you trip and stumble, and you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for kai’s large body falling with you. you both come crashing to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by kai’s loud shriek right in your ear; he squishes you against the cold linoleum floor, his chest pressed against your back, his hips flush against your ass. you try to wriggle free, but kai is just too heavy on top of you, motionless and oddly silent as he breathes hard against the back of your neck.

 “oh my god, kai, you big oaf, get off of me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your hands and knees— your wiggle your hips against kai’s own, akin to a bucking hose trying to unseat it’s rider, and that’s when you feel it.

your pencil skirt has ridden up so that only your pantyhose and underwear were covering your ass, and you can feel every inch of kai’s hardening dick pressed up against you as if there were no clothes between you at all. the weight and curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there, the way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his head buried in your shoulder, his voice wobbly like he was about to cry, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—”

just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements down your ass and thighs despite shaking like a leaf. he’s never been this close to you before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you, his soft plump lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your neck, wafts of his musky cologne clouding your senses. you shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted huening kai for months, since you first met him, and having him pressed against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed all your control and reason. all you could think about was that kai wanted you too, and you had the proof straining against you and begging to be freed.

you roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core.

“a-ah, d-did you, um. did you mean to d-do that?” he asks in a small voice, his cock growing even harder against you.

you can’t take it anymore— in kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him, spinning around on your knees to grab wildly in his direction. you manage to get your fist wrapped around his tie, and with a sharp tug kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. his lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. his panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you open your mouths and breathe each other in. your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pulling each other impossibly closer together. kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush lightly between his fingers. swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming.

you’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before.

“does that answer your question?” you giggle when you part for air, panting hotly into each others mouths before kai descends upon you to recapture your lips himself.

this kiss is even more heated than the last, kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with teeth and tongue. you wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of kai’s jaw as he kissed you, lose yourself in those beautiful brown eyes. bear some witness to something you were sure would never happen. you could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other’s clothes. kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you run your hand down his chest and belly to his belt buckle. it’s a struggle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to roughly tear his fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. you wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up to thumb at the tip, thick globs of precum slicking up your hand.

“t-take it off,” kai grits out against your lips, his large hands fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, “please, wanna feel—”

an affirming hum is all he needs, impatiently pulling at the buttons— your blouse pops open with a loud ripping sound, and he pulls both your top and bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out. your nipples harden in the cold air, but they’re quickly warmed up by kai’s fingers. he pinches and tugs at the buds roughly, the sensation making you keen wantonly.

“kai! that shirt was expensive!” you whine, but the hand pumping his cock only strokes faster— you really couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything, and you wanted to make sure kai didn’t stop to apologize even more than he already has.

“couldn’t help it, i just love your tits,” kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. his grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, breath coming out in short airy pants. “fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me g-go insane. running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, i just want to— ah!— f-fuck you all the time—!”

“kai,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them.

“i wish i could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sensation of a hot wet tongue against your nipple. “i could probably cum just from how hot you look— god, i’ve been wanting to do this for forever.”

his plump, spit-slick lips seal around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. you cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. kai’s fingers and mouth better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, but you desperately, wildly, primally need more.

“touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “kai, please touch me!”

kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. he runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “you’re so wet,” kai laments, sounding utterly debauched, rubbing between your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “made a mess in your panties… did i really make you this wet? that’s so fucking hot…”

he relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. the nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“i’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “i wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can i? i’ll buy you new clothes, i’ll buy you whatever you want, just let me ruin you…”

“we don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing.

“i’ll pull out, i promise.” kai’s voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. you can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. it feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wished desperately that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. his bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. as hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“put it in,” you beg, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. you sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be embarrassing if you weren’t this far gone. “please, please, need you s’ bad, kai, need your cock—”

kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. the stretch burns so good you nearly scream, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. for a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“s-so big,” you slur, clawing weakly at his chest, your mouth slack and your mind completely blank except for how impossibly full you feel.

“is it too much?” kai asks you nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t stop myself, pussy’s sucking me in—”

“feels so goo-o-od!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer kai is inside of you. “need more, hyuka, give it to me!”

the innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. his thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea kai possessed. it knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you moan loudly every time his cock spears your cervix.

“deep! so f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. you can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of kai’s hips. he finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you even wetter.

“yeah?” kai croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “feels so good, huh? fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than i ever imagined… can’t let you go now, perfect girl all for me. this perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one elses!”

he recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky lovebites in his wake. he slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. the pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with kai’s quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of insanity, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“love you so much,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, wanna see your face when you cum. you must look so sexy when you cum.”

your heart clenches along with your cunt.

there is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. you open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— kai groans happily, his thrusts grow desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“yes! cum with me, angel, come on, you can do it.” he coos, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. his hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “that’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!”

your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. you recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching huening as well. your release triggers his own climax, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“holy fuck,” kai whimpers, unable to catch his breath, “that was the best sex i’ve ever had.”

you just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself; the two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

and just like that, the lights turn back on. the heating system starts back up again. you’re nearly blinded after spending so long in the dark, squinting your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

kai is staring right back at you.

his dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. his tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. his softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. his chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. you look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cumstained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“you look beautiful.” kai whispers in rapture, gazing down at you with soft melted chocolate eyes.

“um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning, averting your eyes to check the closet door— the keypad’s light blinks cheerfully at you, as if it had never been turned off in the first place. “do you want to get out of here?”

kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it did before. “do you wanna watch a christmas movie at my place?”

tomorrow x together taglist ; @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi , @numxra , @soobinsbuns , @taegimood , @jeniihss, @soobabby , @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie , @ttaesoob , @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr , @blxxsss , @ode2soob , @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari , @lurking-coconut , @horanghaelovr , @yyeonzi , @paegesoobin , @nightlyhyuka, @urstylezx , @f4iryfever , @givethnofucketh , @allisonistrashh, @katsukis1wife , @luvtyunn , @tyunzonlystar, @inkigayocamman , @hyunj00 , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @strawberryshoujosundae , @enigmaticaphrodite , @txtistheloml , @jellymochii, @welostthesummer111, @skzooluvr

to join the taglist, please fill out the taglist form here!

©𝚖𝚒𝚞-𝚙𝚘𝚠.𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐。𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

[ssa-dado]

The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

 "So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!” Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

[mapis-putellas]

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔/𝑳.𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

The airport was a blur of faces and voices, people moving in every direction, but the only thing you could focus on was the giant hunk of metal you were about to get into. The fact that Leah was holding your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling.

"Hey, babe." Leah's voice was warm, eyes soft as she looked at you. "You know, you don't have to come. I'd love it if you did, but I'd understand if you stayed."

You shook your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. "No way. I've missed way too many of your games because of this. I'm coming."

Leah's face lit up with a proud, affectionate smile as she pulled you close and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. "Alright then, brave girl. Let's go." She nodded towards the gate with a gentle tug on your hand.

Your heart felt like it was doing somersaults, and by the time you both found your seats in first class—courtesy of Arsenal's bookings—your palms were clammy, and every worst-case scenario was flashing through your mind. You threw yourself into the window seat, buckled in, and then tightened the belt like it was the last thing tethering you to the earth. Leah chuckled beside you, slipping into the aisle seat and brushing her hand over your knee.

"Alright there?" she teased lightly.

"Not even remotely close," you muttered, your voice sounding far more strained than you'd intended.

Leah's eyes softened. She leaned over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be right back, yeah? Just need the loo." She pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off.

The moment she disappeared, the sheer panic returned. You stared out the window, eyes wide as you imagined all the ways this could go wrong. What if the pilot was a rookie? What if he accidentally pressed the wrong button and sent the plane hurtling toward the ocean? And how was something this heavy supposed to stay in the sky on such small wings? Before you knew it, your hands were clutching the armrests like your life depended on it, fingers turning white as you mentally braced for every scenario.

Leah returned and took one look at your pale face and your death grip on the seat. She cocked an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, love, that's some grip you've got there."

The moment you registered she was back, you turned to her with wide eyes. "Swap seats with me. Now."

Leah blinked, a bit surprised. "Uh... alright. Thought you wanted the window."

"That was before I realized it's going to be me who gets sucked out first if this window breaks," you deadpanned, scooting over immediately.

Leah stifled a laugh as she slid in, now beside the window. "Fine, I'll take one for the team." She glanced down, noticing how you were buckling your seatbelt with renewed fervor, making sure both of you were as secure as possible.

She yelped as you pulled her seatbelt tight, earning a raised eyebrow from her. "Babe, you're cutting me in half."

"Good. Less chance of you flying out of this thing then," you replied, your voice a touch hysterical.

Leah leaned back, trying to ignore the way her seatbelt was practically digging into her waist. She watched you with a concerned smile, her hand reaching out to yours. "Baby, I think you're safe. I promise."

But you were too busy scanning every corner of the plane, watching for anything that looked remotely wrong or dangerous. Leah's fingers gently tugged at one of your hands, prying it off the armrest and linking her fingers through yours.

"Hey," she said softly, waiting until you looked over. "I'm right here, alright? Deep breath, yeah?"

As the plane roared to life, your entire body went rigid. Leah squeezed your hand, her voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "Breathe, babe. Just breathe. We haven't even taken off yet."

You barely heard her over the roar of your heartbeat, your mind spiraling as the engines started to hum. "Oh my god," you whispered. "We're going to die."

"No, we're not," Leah said calmly, her tone soothing as her arm slipped around your shoulders. "Come on, love. Lean into me."

Your head fell onto her shoulder, and you clutched at her jumper like it was the only thing holding you down. Leah's arm wrapped around you tightly, and her other hand began to rub slow, comforting circles on your back. "Just focus on me, yeah?" Her voice was gentle, her tone warm. "I've got you."

You nodded against her, though your body was still shaking. She was speaking softly, her voice a steady hum in your ear as she talked about anything and everything, trying to pull your mind away from the takeoff.

The plane began to accelerate, and you tensed up, clutching her even tighter, your fingers digging into her side. Leah pressed her lips to your temple, her hand slipping under your shirt to rest against the bare skin of your back. "Alright, babe, deep breaths. You're fine. Focus on my hand, yeah? Feel how warm it is?"

You nodded, trying to breathe in time with her as she whispered gentle reassurances. Her fingers traced slow, comforting patterns on your back, and you let yourself focus on that, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours, the weight of her arm around you.

As the plane lifted off, your stomach lurched, and Leah held you even closer. "You're okay, love. Look at me. I'm right here."

You glanced up at her, meeting her eyes, and the calm, steady look she gave you eased the tightness in your chest a little. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? And neither are you," she promised softly, her fingers tracing along the back of your neck.

For the next hour, you stayed curled into her side, her steady hand resting against your back as she talked about everything from football to the little moments you'd shared since meeting her. She seemed to have a story for everything, and her voice was a constant, soothing presence.

Just as you started to settle, the plane hit a rough patch of turbulence, and your heart leapt into your throat, eyes burning with the unmistakable threat of tears. Leah felt you tense and adjusted her hold on you, one hand slipping under your shirt again to press flat against your back, grounding you.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Feel that? That's me. I'm right here, babe, and I'm not going anywhere. Nothing's happening. Just a few bumps."

You focused on the warmth of her hand, her voice, and her steady breathing, letting it wash over you until the turbulence passed. She rubbed your back in gentle circles, brushing her fingers through your hair as she murmured, "That's it, babe. See? It's alright."

When the turbulence finally stopped, you felt your shoulders relax slightly. Leah didn't let go, though, keeping her arms around you, whispering soft reassurances and kissing your forehead every few minutes, just to remind you she was there.

Hours later, the plane finally began its descent, and exhaustion weighed down on you. By the time you landed, you could barely keep your eyes open, and as you stumbled off the plane, Leah held onto you tightly, guiding you through the airport.

"You look like you've just fought off a herd of elephants, babe," she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

"Feel like it too," you mumbled, leaning into her side. "I just want a bath. And bed. Preferably with you."

Leah chuckled, her arm still tight around your shoulders. "Well, we can definitely arrange that. You've earned it, don't you think?"

You gave her a weak nod, resting your head on her shoulder as she led you through customs, never once letting go of you. By the time you reached the hotel, you could barely keep your eyes open.

After a hot bath and changing into something comfortable, you crawled into bed, feeling Leah slip in beside you. Her arms wrapped around you, and you felt the last of your tension melt away as you buried your face in her shoulder, the tip of your nose nudging against her jaw.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice drowsy.

Leah's hand traced soothing patterns along your back, her voice a gentle whisper in the dark. "Anything for you, love. Now, go to sleep.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[snapscube]

i finished AA investigations 1 btw :3 tier list update time!

All in all: Investigations 1 was pretty tough to get through unfortunately. Not that it was like BAD or anything but i really lost the drive somethin fierce with this one. The writing just did not feel even remotely as sharp or fun as the best of even AA1, though i don't think there was ever a low point as low of some of the first trilogy's worst. The very definition of "mid" overall, and I don't mean the new kind of "mid" that actually just means bad.

The last case of AAI1 was actually really good though! Really picked up the pace, it was nice and long and very fun to put the actual mystery together. It tied together the underlying plot of the entire game very nicely, one thing i think Investigations actually did really well overall. I liked how tangibly connected pretty much every case felt, even if the individual stories lost my interest often.

I will say though in regards to the final case, holy shit it goes off the rails near the end. I think there is legitimately 5 instances in a row of the murderer going "okay im going home now" only for some character to rush in at the last second and extend the investigation because of some weird asinine piece of evidence that is infinitely less valuable than everything we've already discussed. I think that final 3rd or so of the case is particularly egregious about treating previous evidence as inconsequential at the slightest bit of opposition in a way that started to really exhaust me by the end. I know that's kinda the whole bit with Ace Attorney, but usually there's a bit of balance in the more well rounded cases. This might be the worst I've seen of it so far, so it left somewhat of a sour taste in my mouth. Still enjoyed it a lot up to that point though, so it gets a solid A rank :)

Sorry I didn't post a lot of screencaps or anything when playin this one, I would have been taking them but my Steam Deck (where i play these most often) has been acting kinda buggy w my controller's screenshot button. It'll work once when I boot up the game fresh and then just not register any of my screenshots after. Hopefully that'll be fixed soon :) Time to move onto AAI2.... sometime in the near future! Maybe tonight! Maybe next week! I dunno! WEEEEE!

[nowiminexileseeingyouout]

kate martin x reader

contains: fingering(reader!reciving , confession)

a/n: i have like 10 requests but i decide to write something nobody asked for?? ok anyway req still open even if i never post :(

Watching movies is the ultimate pastime. It was your favourite thing to do mainly because it was one of the few things that got your busy brain to calm down. You could get completely absorbed in another world for just a moment.

It's even better with friends because you can talk about it afterwards or even during. You didn't have to stress about anything outside of what was playing in front of you. Your favourite person to watch movies with was Kate. Kate loved it just as much as you. You could talk about movies for hours with her if you wanted to, and you wanted to. It was something you bonded over and the reason you became friends in the first place. You liked Kate; you had known her for a while now.

You might like her a little too much.

You liked the way every time she touched you it felt electric. She could give you butterflies just by talking. One time when you both were watching something together, Kate started to slowly move closer to you. You were sitting up with your legs in front of you propped up on an ottoman, and Kate moved so her head was on your shoulder and your legs were intertwined.

She just stayed there.

For the rest of the movie.

You couldn't remember what you were watching that night if your life depended on it. All you could focus on was how Kate's arm was strung behind your back and how warm she felt against you. You could feel yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the slight contact with her and you had to kick her out early. You made up some excuse about how you had to get up early. This was the first movie night you'd had since that interaction. You were nervous about not being able to control yourself in front of Kate. It wasn't fair to her; she was your friend. It wasn't her problem that you were attracted to her. You felt guilty, and if she ever found out, she might think that was the only reason you were nice to her. You hear a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts. You walk to the door to greet Kate, praying you can keep it together. You open the door, and she is, standing there in her usual T-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. You both agreed a while ago to just wear pyjamas for movie night. Why did she have to look so good in pyjamas?

You manage to blurt out a "hi!"

"Hey," she replies, smiling a little at your clear excitement.

"I've got the movie all ready to go," you say as you turn to let Kate in.

"Very exciting. What did you decide for tonight?" she asks while walking past you, taking off her shoes, and making a beeline to the couch. You close the door and follow her.

"Kick-ass," you say.

You had both already seen it, but it was one of your favourites. No thinking was required, plus it was kind of funny. You sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Kate.

"Ah, good choice. I could use a brainless type of movie right about now." She immediately moves so your thighs are touching, ignoring your effort to put space between you two.

"Actually, do you mind if we lie down to watch this? I'm so exhausted I can barely see straight." Kate suggests.

That would mean either you sit on the floor or she would have to spoon you. Oh god.

"Ok, but then where would I sit?" you ask. You have no idea what answer you're hoping for.

"Just lay down in front of me. We can cuddle up; there's plenty of room."

There was indeed not plenty of room. Plenty of room would mean that every part of you wouldn't be touching Kate. Plenty of room would not mean that Kate's arm would be draped around you.

"Alright,"

you reply with a small laugh, ignoring every thought in your head right now. You stand up to allow Kate to lie on her side, putting her head on a throw pillow resting on the arm of the couch.

You grab the remote and press play before lying down in front of her. Kate drapes her arm around you and places her hand comfortably on your stomach. Eventually, she starts gently scratching your stomach, moving her hand in circles. She would move her hand slowly up just below your breasts and back down right below your belly button. Just above and below where you really wanted them. She was teasing you, and it almost felt intentional. The way the way her hand would sometimes go too high and graze your underboob or too low and barely touch the hem of your shorts.

Your breathing unintentionally starts to get heavier, and Kate notices.

"Something wrong?" She whispers.

"No, no, I'm—" She touches the hem of your shorts again, and you sharply inhale.

"I'm fine."

"Ok, whatever you say."

She replies, and you can almost hear the smugness in her voice. You're starting to think she's doing this on purpose. A few more minutes go by, and it's agony. You can't focus on anything except for the feeling of Kate's nails softly scratching your stomach. She wasn't even touching you directly, and she was driving you insane. You're not sure how much more you can take. Just when you're about to get up to go to the bathroom to try and escape her touch, Kate breaks the silence.

"I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" You have no idea where this is going, but at least her hand has stilled for the moment.

"I like you."

"Yeah, well, I like you too; that's why I invite you over."

You let out a nervous laugh. Hoping to deflect the conversation from going where you think it's going. Kate props herself up on her elbow so she's lying above you, lightly grabs your jaw, and turns your head to face her.

"No, I like you, like, a lot."

She says, and you can tell by the way she's looking at you exactly what she means. This has to be a dream.

"I like you too, like a lot."

Kate looks like she wants to devour you. Instead, she lays back down, keeping her head slightly above yours.

"I want to try something; if you want me to stop, just tell me."

You nod eagerly, hoping it has something to do with getting rid of the ache that's been growing between your legs for an hour now.

"Words: pretty girl." Oh god, that nickname.

"Yes, yes," you say breathlessly.

"Ok, and you have to promise to keep paying attention."

Kate slowly moves her hand from your stomach, down past your belly button, and to the waistband of your shorts. She looks at you questioningly, making sure you're okay with this. You nod your head, giving her permission to continue.

She slides her hand under the waistband of your shorts, her fingers gliding over your skin. She moves her hand lower and lower until she reaches the hem of your panties. Kate looks at you again, her blue eyes dark with desire.

"You're so wet."

She whispers, her fingers lightly grazing your clit through the fabric of your panties. You let out a soft moan, your hips involuntarily bucking up towards her hand.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

She asks, her voice low and husky.

"Yes, please."

You whimper, desperately wanting more of her touch. Kate slowly slides your panties to the side, exposing your wet folds to the cool air. She runs a finger along your slit, coating it in your juices. You're so wet that it's dripping down your thighs.Kate brings her finger to her mouth, tasting you.

"Mmm, you taste so good."

She says before diving back in, this time pressing her finger inside of you. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around her finger. She starts to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly at first but gradually increasing her speed.

"Oh fuck, Kate."

You moan, your head falling back against the couch cushion. Kate adds a second finger, stretching you further. She curls her fingers inside of you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

Kate says, her breath hot against your ear. She starts to rub tight circles on your clit with her thumb while continuing to fuck you with her fingers. The dual stimulation is too much, and you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

"I'm going to cum."

You warn, your walls starting to flutter around Kate's fingers.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my hand."

Kate commands, her fingers and thumb moving even faster. With a few more thrusts, you're flying.Kate's fingers are relentless, pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace.

Her thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, the pressure just right to send you over the edge. Your walls clench around her fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out her name, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Kate doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're a boneless, satisfied mess.

As you come down from your high, Kate slowly removes her fingers from inside you. She brings them to her mouth, licking your juices off of them.

"You taste even better than I imagined."

She says with a satisfied grin. You're still trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving.

"Wow, that was..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to put into words what you just experienced. Kate chuckles, pulling you closer to her.

"That was just the beginning, pretty girl."

She says, her lips brushing against your ear. You shudder at the promise in her voice.You turn your head to face her, your noses barely an inch apart.

"So, does this mean we're dating now?"

You ask, a coy smile on your face.

"Only if you want to."

Kate replies, her eyes searching yours.

"I definitely want to."

You say without hesitation. And it's true, you've wanted this for so long. To be with Kate, to feel her touch, to have her as yours. Kate closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss. You melt into her, your hands coming up to tangle in her hair. She tastes like you, like sex and desire. The kiss is deep and passionate, conveying all the pent-up feelings you both have for each other. When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless.

"I love you."

Kate whispers, her forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too."

You reply, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you please write a G!P Donna fic where Reader finds it incredibly hot whenever Donna finishes inside of her. Idk I just want more Donna smut in my life. I appreciate your contributions to the Fandom.

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kind words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes :))))

Take me in the church

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI

Word count: 4,904

Summary: Maybe to go to church was a good idea after all...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Give me another one,” the Angie doll said, pretending to think about what her master move was going to be in such a simple game.

“As you wish...” You hummed, amused by her lack of care, taking another card from the small pile. “Mm, 23, you went too far, I win again.”

“What? 23 is greater than 17,” the doll protested, indignant at your invincible list of victories. You rolled your eyes and shuffled the cards again.

“I've told you a thousand times, Angie. If you go over 21, you lose,” you explained, putting a card in front of each one again.

“Cheater!” The puppet screeched, enraged because she was unable to defeat you. You laughed amused, taking the opportunity to give the puppet a gentle push.

“I never cheat... Only in love,” you joked, looking at your card and bringing the rest closer to Angie.

“Donna won't like to know that,” the doll threatened, to which you raised your eyebrow.

“Give me a card and shut up," you said, making another attempt to destabilize Angie's fragile balance.

Why were you playing blackjack with a porcelain doll? The answer was anything but simple.

Born and raised in a remote village, your life was never interesting. Only that strange cult, those creatures, could make you live some kind of adventure. But not even the adrenaline that you and your friends experienced while running away from some Lycans could compare to what you felt that day, the day when your desire for exploration took you to go to forbidden places.

Nobody knew what exactly was behind that blazon of a moon and a sun. No one knew exactly what or who Donna Beneviento was. She was a Lord, serving the supreme witch, Mother Miranda. Her dark and mysterious figure gave rise to many legends, many rumors, each one more extravagant.

You figured you must have been afraid to meet her, when she caught you snooping around her grounds. Quite the opposite. That air of mystery, that stoic pose, that black cloth hiding her face. Fear was the last thing you felt.

Surely that attitude of yours of ignoring or evading problems with a good dose of charisma was what scared Donna, at least enough for her not to kill you by setting foot on her estate.

A simple villager, that's what you were, but one who wasn't afraid of her, one who didn't hesitate to smile at her presence. Saving your life was the first of her miracles. Falling in love was the second.

Shy, sick and lonely, Donna had no one but her doll, anyone who wanted to talk to her, or at least try to. You came into her life the same way she came into yours, accidentally, but that didn't mean it was something temporary. No, it wasn’t temporary at all.

The talks became a routine. You even left your friends aside to enter that dark forest every day, becoming more and more interested in her, until her interest inevitably turned into attraction.

Donna had a lot of things to learn. She didn't know about love, about people. You weren't a particularly patient girl, but with her, it was different. After an innocent time, of kisses, of caresses, of Donna's fear of showing her face. The rainy afternoon in which your lips did the work arrived, colliding with hers. “You are beautiful,” you said as you looked at her wounded face, the beauty that horrible black fabric hid.

Everything else was a matter of time. You stopped living in the village to live with her, you left everything behind, and you didn't regret it. You have never been happier.

“What do you have?” You asked, carefully studying your possibilities.

“18,” Angie said, with a threatening tone. It would be better to let her win that time...

“Wow, I'm 16, you win,” you said amused, preventing the doll from seeing what cards you really had. A sinister laugh invaded the room. Oh, maybe it was a mistake, now she’d be rubbing her victory in your face for all eternity.

Fortunately the sound of the elevator interrupted the doll's mocking songs. Donna spent hours in her workshop and you didn't want to bother her, well, most of times.

Her mourning figure appeared in front of you, walking slowly and elegantly. You frowned.

“Look, the Ghost of Christmas Past,” you murmured amused, getting up from the ground and walking towards the lady in black. “Donna, what are you doing with the veil on?” You asked curiously, moving the black fabric away to kiss her lips.

“Mother Miranda is going to give a sermon in the church,” the lady explained, with that soft, hoarse voice that betrayed its lack of use. You rolled your eyes, disappointed.

“Today?” You asked with disappointment in your eyes. She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek in a sweet, messy way. You loved that innocent way of loving you. Well, innocent most of times.

“That's how Mother Miranda wanted it,” she said, making your stomach clench because of your anger. You hated that the priestess was always one step above you.

“But, Donna...” You sighed, lowering your hands to her waist and gently pulling her body, putting on your best pleading face. “Today is our special day,” you lamented.

She tilted her head, curious about that phrase.

“If I haven't counted wrong, there are still three months until our anniversary, (Y/N),” she said, amused, letting to be hugged.

You shook your head.

“No, is not that. You don’t remember? Today is the day you lost your…” You purred in her ear, making the lady in black step back, embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, yes, I remember. You don't need to say it,” she said shyly, avoiding your gaze. You laughed amused, raising and lowering your eyebrows seductively.

You knew that sex, like love or human relationships, was a unknown subject for Donna. She was never with anyone. She never had the chance to experience something like that, at least until you came. That fact made her feel stupid, a loser. You kept reminding her that she wasn't and, well, you didn't care about her body, nor about the changes that the Cadou had caused on it.

“I had thought we could celebrate... Maybe in the forest, like that time,” you whispered in the best seductive voice you could muster, one that you knew made her shiver.

Donna laughed, but she shook her head, putting the hands on your chest to keep you from coming any closer. Surely if you did, she would have fallen into temptation.

“I'm sorry, tesoro... But I have to go,” she said with a sad tone, alleviating your disappointment with a kiss on the cheek. “You can come with me.”

“Me? To church?” You asked ironically, crossing your arms. The lady nodded again, picking Angie up from the floor and holding her in her arms.

“Mother Miranda knows you all. It's not the first time she's asked about you,” Donna commented, walking towards the door, closely followed by your disappointed figure. You mumbled something incomprehensible, luckily.

“Well, let her keep asking,” you said with a dry tone, looking away from the lady. “I don't care.”

“Please, my love, do it for me. I don't want anything to happen to you,” your girlfriend pleaded, holding your hand and trying to destabilize your cocky pose. You looked away with a disinterested gasp.

“Oh...” You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I better wait for you here.”

"Come on, then we could take a romantic walk in the forest, like you wanted,” Donna said, insisting almost desperately.

“Donna...” You growled, in the face of that cruel blackmail that certainly wasn't that cruel. “Oh, okay, okay, you win, I'll go with you. But then we'll do what I want, deal?”

“Thank you, tesoro,” she said, happy to have won that dialectical battle, giving you another kiss on the cheek as a reward and taking your hand, dragging your reluctant body towards the door.

“You owe me one, huh?” You said, closing the door behind you. Donna nodded effusively and pulled you across the grounds. You certainly didn't really want to go to that church.

The road was hectic, but it was true that walking with her in a place other than the old house was refreshing, and not just because of the cold of that place.

The church was packed, full of villagers who used to be your neighbors. The regret of being there hit you hard when their gaze was directed towards you, followed by an indiscreet whisper, which was surely talking about you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked one of your former friends, who immediately turned his head away as Donna led you by the hand to a secluded corner of the building.

“Stay here, my love... Don't worry, I won't be long,” Donna whispered to you, caressing your hand and leaning to kiss you through the black fabric of her face.

You sighed and shook your head, watching as she walked away from to take her traditional spot near the altar. Looking around, you leaned against the wall with your arms crossed. At least you weren't around those suspicious glances.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,”  a velvety voice brought you out of your thoughts. Her winged figure and her ridiculous priestess robes gave her away from miles. Miranda.

“Mother Miranda,” you said without much interest. Maybe you were putting too much trust in the relationship you had with Donna. Maybe you shouldn't be so brazen, showing your disdain for the village leader.

“I'm very happy to know that Donna has managed to bring you back to the path of the Black Gods,” she said amused, with a sardonic smile under that golden mask. You frowned and sighed, holding back your urge to swear.

“She’s very convincing,” you murmured, looking at the lady in black, who didn't take her gaze off of you.

“I guess so,” the priestess commented, placing a cold hand on your shoulder and walking, fortunately, away from you.

At least you were standing and didn't have the ability to fall asleep. The sermon was boring, sinister as always. You were very tired of pretending that this woman was a Goddess or something, but it would be better to play along and pretend, for your own sake, and maybe Donna's.

Even so, you couldn't help but look at the lady in black from time to time, with a mocking smile, mocking Miranda's words with extravagant grimaces. Just as you thought, that had its effect, causing Donna to shift nervously in her chair, hiding her laughter from her siblings and her Goddess.

“Go with the blessing of the Gods, dear subjects,” Miranda finally said, extending her arms in an extravagant way, making those present bow and little by little left the building along with the rest of the Lords, except Donna, who stood up slowly, walking towards you.

“I shouldn't have brought you here,” she whispered, annoyed but amused, crossing her arms. You shrugged, pushing that horrible fabric away again and kissing her lips quickly and exaggeratedly.

“You sure had fun,” you joked, to which she responded with a quick tap on your shoulder and one of those adorable shy giggles.

“Yes, and that's not right,” she protested, taking your hand, caressing it slowly while Angie surrounded you with her usual teasing.

“I can't help it, I love seeing you smile,” you whispered in her ear, making her laugh again and shake her head.

“You haven't seen me,” she said, pointing to her veil.

“But I know you smiled,” you joked again, taking a look at that small chapel. “This place gives me chills. What about that walk?”

“I would love to, (Y/N),” Donna sighed, walking towards the exit.

You felt relieved, but before you could leave the church, something caught your attention. You had never been the best of believers, and you had never paid attention to the altar of that building. Your curiosity made you walk towards it, where some old photographs were framed next to the annoying Mother Miranda's prayer to the Black Gods.

“What are you doing?” The lady in black asked, following you cautiously. You pointed to one of the photographs, hers.

“Nothing, just taking a look," you said. “Seriously, Donna, that photo?”

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked curiously, looking at her own gray and sad portrait.

“Why do you always look like a wandering soul?” You joked, making her step back confused.

“It's just a photo, (Y/N)” she whispered, annoyed by your comment. “Let's take that walk.”

The tug she gave on your wrist was useless, since you had no intention of moving from that place. The empty and mysterious church stopped giving you chills to send other types of ideas and sensations to your body, some dangerous ideas.

“Come on, (Y/N), we can't stay here,” she told you hurriedly, as if your look was giving away your intentions.

“Why not? Is prohibited?” You asked amused, playing with the offerings that were on a small table.

“Well, not technically, but...” Donna murmured, stopping you from putting a grape in your mouth and leaving it back in the basket. “Come on, stop fooling around and…”

“What? I'm not doing anything wrong,” you said amused, with a dark look, sitting in the chair occupied by the lady in black during the sermons.

“Didn't you want to go for a walk that much?” Donna asked, looking around her, checking that the doors were closed and no one could see your audacity.

“Yes, but now I feel like being here,” you said ironically, crossing your legs. “You, heretic, you are going to be devoured by wolves for hiding your beauty,” you joked, making her sigh and shake her head.

“Heretic, heretic!” Angie repeated, jumping up and pointing at poor Donna, who snorted in annoyance.

“Look what you've done, you've excited Angie,” the lady in black complained, who extended her hand toward the puppet to keep it still.

“Have I excited you too?” You purred standing up from the chair and hanging tenderly around her neck, making Donna walk backwards until her back hit the wall.

“What? Oh, (Y/N), please don't...” She said, her breathing labored by your approach, being interrupted by a finger that was placed under her veil and rested on her lips.

“Shh, be quiet, Beneviento, this is a church,” you whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe, making her squirm, trapped between you and the wall.

“You're making me nervous, tesoro,” she said, avoiding your caresses as best she could. Your lust had been unleashed and the naughty thoughts that ran through your mind only grew stronger and stronger, as did your desire.

“Am I? Great,” you joked, tilting the black fabric from her face to be able to kiss her better, to be able to deepen that kiss in a hot and sensual way.

“We must, we must go,” Donna stammered, releasing from your grip and adjusting her veil.

“No, no,” you joked, grabbing her wrist and moving poor Donna against the wall again.

“Don't do that, per favore,” she begged, while you moved her veil away again and brought your body even closer to hers. You laughed when you saw her so nervous. Oh yeah, that was going to be funny.

“Your sweet words aren't going to save you now,” you whispered, enjoying her confused and nervous look. “If you want to get out of here, you have to confess yourself, my love.”

“What? Confess?” She asked, shaking her head. She was terribly nervous. You could see it in her trembling. That was something you planned to use to your advantage.

“Come on, it will be funny,” you said with a smile, this time more tender, caressing her cheek. You wanted to make her nervous, but you didn't want her to lose her temper. Anything but that.

“I think we have different concepts of what is funny, tesoro,” she said, laughing nervously, but also, with some amusement.

“Well, whatever you want, I'll start,” you said, still smiling, making her open her mouth to say something, but she regretted it at the last moment. Maybe you have gotten her curious. “Do you want to know what my confession is?”

Your hot words and cheeky whispers made her entire body suddenly tense, finally knowing what your intentions might be. Donna just stared at you and shook her head, slowly.

You bit your lip and approached her ear again, feeling her heavy breathing very close to you.

“I confess that I love when you cum inside of me,” you whispered with a low voice, with a mischievous smile. “Nothing makes me feel better than your sem…”

“(Y/N), stop that,” Donna said, getting even more upset, blushing at your rude words, something that always made her excited, even if she denied it. “You know I hate when you talk that way.”

You raised an eyebrow, but didn't move away from her, running your hand down her body to the small bulge noticeable between her legs.

“Well, it seems like your body is happy with my confession,” you joked, caressing her budding erection through the fabric of her dress, causing her to gasp in embarrassment and turn her head away. “You are so sensitive… I love it, Donna.”

“Come on, let's go. We can, we can continue talking about this at home,” she said, stammering, repressing her desire to close her eye and let herself be carried away by the pleasure of your caresses.

You shook your head, directing your lips to her neck, kissing it lovingly, sinking your teeth into her skin, making her gasps become less and less discreet.

“No, my love. Not at home,” you said seductively. “We’re going to talk here.”

She shook her head, grabbing your wrist so her erection wouldn't be released from her dress.

“W, wait, (Y/N), not here,” she said, almost surrendered to the pleasure, a terribly exciting sight for you.

You crossed your arms, but didn’t desist in your actions, kissing her on the lips to silence her fears. Donna was partly right, someone could show up there at any moment, but that only made it more exciting, even more so when Angie was lying limp on the floor.

“What is my punishment for my sins, Donna?” You asked, bringing her hand to your chest, making her caress your body inside your dress. No matter how much she denied it, the situation was also exciting for her.

“Your... Your punishment?” She asked, her voice cracking with pleasure, from feeling your naked skin in such a forbidden place. She was already yours, she couldn't escape anymore, and she didn't want to do it either.

You nodded with your most relaxed gaze, searching hers for any sign that this was too much for her. You could see her nervousness, but her arousal was much more evident, which made you continue.

“Maybe you want me to kneel and beg for your forgiveness, do you want that, darling?” You asked, lowering yourself to the floor slowly until the wood collided with your knees and your hands traveled along the black fabric of her dress.

Donna didn't know how to respond, she just looked around again and then at you, as if her conscience was fighting, deciding whether or not it was a good idea. After a sigh of relief, a slightly sinister smile formed on her face.

“Okay, fine, kneel, (Y/N), but if it's a punishment, it'll have to look like one, don't you think?” She told you with a nervous voice, but with that point of seduction that revealed her excitement, apart from her body, of course.

“Oh… And what is it going to be?” You asked, making big eyes and a face like a good girl who wanted to be punished.

“You won't see my face,” she whispered, bending down to take your chin and kiss you before covering herself with the veil, making you bite your lip again.

“Oh... Well, your face isn't exactly what I wanted to look at...” You teased, playing with the black fabric until her shaft was freed from its prison, shiny, hard from your words and your lack of sense of risk.

“You better use your mouth for something different than talking. I don't want to hear you,” she said, grabbing your hair with her hand, releasing a dominant side that you didn't know about, but that sent a wave of pleasure between your legs.

You laughed at the obvious shyness that her words still betrayed, but you obeyed immediately, grabbing her erection and kissing the tip, running your tongue delicately over her skin, making her entire body shiver with pleasure.

You moaned against her as her hand forced your mouth down, to surround her length with your lips in a hasty manner. In that way, her haste was revealed, but you, oh, no, you were in no hurry at all and you managed to be the one who controlled the pace.

“Hurry up, (Y/N),” the lady in black demanded as your hand joined the movements, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You smiled wickedly, licking her shaft again, ceasing the gentle movements of your hand to make her moan at the lack of contact.

You shook your head, lingering on the tip with an almost painful slowness, causing her grip on your hair to tighten, lifting your head towards her.

“What have I told you?” Donna asked, with her face hidden by her veil, something you didn't think would excite you that much. “Come on, hurry up, get it over with.”

“Hurrying is not good, Donna,” you said amused, only using your hand to stimulate her, making her protest with a snort and a strong tug on your hair. No, no, you weren't going to let the fun end so soon, but hey, you didn't want to make poor Donna suffer either. Her erection trembled anxiously as your lips surrounded it again, this time moving faster and faster, in a constant rhythm that elicited soft, discreet moans from the lady in black.

“That, that's it... I'm so close,” she murmured, following your movements with her hand buried in your hair. That was the signal for you to move away from her, for your mouth to abruptly leave her erection, causing Donna to protest by hitting her fist against the chapel wall.

“What the hell are you doing? Keep going, (Y/N),” she said nervously, annoyed by your attitude and the things you forced her to do. You ignored her words and grabbed her hand, leading her to the altar.

“Who's the rude one now, huh?” You ironized, putting your hand in your dress to let your underwear hang from one of your ankles while you sat on that small altar, next to the photographs and sermons of that sinister cult. “Come here, Donna.”

The doll maker breathed heavily, nervously, but she obeyed, approaching your outstretched legs and grabbing them tightly, digging her nails into your skin.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she hissed angrily, as her hips got closer and she positioned her erection at your wet and hungry entrance, making the moans now yours.

You murmured in satisfaction when you noticed her shaft slowly entering you, making your body stretch to let it pass, a sensation that you loved almost as much as what you had confessed a few minutes before.

“Wait, slow down, you're big, Donna,” you said when you saw how rushed she was. She looked at you, but you couldn't know how, that black veil hid her face, as well as her intentions.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, with a sinister tone, going deeper and deeper until she was completely inside of you. You shook your head, hissing at the feeling of your walls tightening around her prominent erection.

“It doesn’t, but you know that I need some time to...” You said amused, closing your eyes due to the sensations that her movements sent to your body.

“I already told you...” She said, grabbing your legs, spreading them further apart to gain more access when she began to move her hips. “…That we don't have time.”

“Oh, Donna,” you moaned, letting yourself be carried away by her erratic thrusts, by the sound of the objects on the altar shaking from the movement. “Yes, yes, keep going…”

She just moaned in response, keeping a steady pace, enjoying the way your body adapted to her seamlessly. It was a quick, improvised, passionate act, far from routine. You couldn't ask for more in a special day like that.

The possible dangers and risks of doing it in a place like that were clouded by the pleasure, by how Donna moved inside you, by how your advances had that effect on her. She was weak, susceptible to temptation. At that moment you were the tempting demon, and she was the poor sinner who let herself be carried away by your words.

That situation, combined with seeing the photograph of the stupid Mother Miranda trembling under Donna’s thrusts, was much better than you thought. An act of revenge on your part, an act of love that was superior to Miranda’s simple, confusing sermons.

“You're so tight, (Y/N),” Donna commented, letting you know that her modesty had disappeared the moment you made that confession. Donna was shy but her body made her say or do those kind of things when she was as excited as she was at the moment. You could feel it. You could feel her hard penis crying out for its release.

You smiled, biting your lip and reaching out your hand to take hers, so not to make this a purely carnal act. The love you felt was far superior to that pleasure and you knew that the lady in black loved to feel loved, to feel that for you it was more than just a funny time.

“I love you, Donna,” you whispered, moving your hips when she stopped, confused by your words, breathing hard.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, stopping digging her nails into your skin, forgetting what she was doing for a moment.

“Come on, keep going, I'm close,” you said, shaking your body to make her resume her movements, something she did hurriedly, but slower, romantically. Unexpected, impromptu sex was fine, but when Donna got romantic… That was something out of this world.

“Is that true, (Y/N)?” She asked, controlling the intensity of her movements, preventing her near release from preventing you from feeling yours. “Is it true that you like me to do it inside?”

You widened your eyes at those rude words coming out of her covered mouth. Her movements were becoming more precise, sliding smoothly inside you, making a feint to get out, which made you look at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, Donna, it’s true, please... I need it,” you said with a pleading tone, seeing her intentions, seeing what punishment she had thought for you.

“But what kind of punishment would that be?” Donna asked, amused, playing with her hips, continuing to give you that pleasure, that feeling that you wouldn't get what you wanted so much. “Maybe I should do it outside, don't you think? That's how you would learn.”

“You wouldn't dare,” you hissed, moving your hips closer until your body was completely on the edge of that sinister altar.

“I don’t know, it depends on you,” she said in a distracted voice, raising your legs and moving her hips elegantly, emphasizing the pleasure that her thrusts gave you.

“I'll be good, I promise,” you said pleadingly, noticing how tension began to form in your body. Just thinking about her release made yours even closer.

“Mm,” she murmured, increasing her speed, not being able to control the pleasure she felt. You noticed her erection trembling more and more, getting closer to filling you up.

When you knew the end was near, your body sent you one of the best orgasms you had ever experienced, releasing your legs from her grip and moving them in a disorderly manner, while your screams began to echo through that small chapel.

“How scandalous...” Donna said, suppressing her own moans as she felt your walls holding her tightly, preventing her from leaving your body.

Before you could respond, a loud moan followed yours. Donna leaned over you, releasing herself the way you wanted, inside of you. Her heat invaded your insides, caressing it in a wet and pleasant way, in a way that made your body cry out for another release, which did not take long to arrive, making you lean over her and hug her intensely while you felt her heat slid off your body, soaking your dress.

“It’s been good, huh?” You said amused, getting up from the altar, dedicating one last superb look at the priestess's portrait while Donna kept her shame in her dress, trying to catch her breath.

“We shouldn't have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head and picking up poor, inert Angie from the floor.

“That's what you say now. You loved it,” you joked, giving her a nudge, which made her head turn quickly towards you.

“Shut up. Don’t even mention it. I don't want to hear about this again, is that clear?” Donna said shyly, embarrassed, to which you rolled your eyes and ran after her, leaving the church.

“Should we take a walk?”

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-

[milaatyourworst]

"Why can't you say it back?" Madison Beer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

warnings: might be some grammar errors. idk what else tbh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For as long as you could remember, all your relationships ended the same way. You never could say 'I love you' back. It was as if the words got stuck in your throat. You choked. Usually, everything came out like word vomit, but not those. Those words were like a path a vulnerability you were not ready to take. And it wasn't your fault, you don't think. You never received an 'i love you' as a kid. So you never experienced love. It was like it never existed in your world.

Madison made you feel things you never thought you could. She did everything you never got to receive as a kid. She gave you hugs, which you thought you hated. You told yourself you hated physical touch, but when Madison touched you, a sense of warmth filled your body. You'd never admit it though. The thought of enjoying someone else's touch was horrifying. Her words were so sweet. They felt so scripted. All the compliments she gave you, you never believed them. When she told you you were pretty, you couldn't bring yourself to accept it. You could never bring yourself to tell her. You didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Unfortunately, you did. She got frustrated when you wouldn't open up to her. She went on and on about how communication was the key to good relationships. You didn't say a single word. You physically couldn't. The words were stuck in your throat. All you could do was nod. Not that that was any different from what you do. Communication wasn't something you were good at. You were trying, at least you thought you were. It's not that you couldn't trust her, you were scared too. You never opened up about your feelings. Mostly because you never knew exactly what you were feeling. Just the thought of talking to someone about your feelings freaked you out. More than you could admit. It was one thing speaking about it, but to speak about it without crying was difficult.

The first time Madison said anything remotely close to 'i love you', you froze. She had offered you the world, and you couldn't do the same. She couldn't understand why you were so hesitant. It had been 2 years, why couldn't you say it back? Thankfully, she understood. Even if it took a few words out of you, she was patient. She waited. Always.

That's what you liked about her. She always waited. Even if you never thought you would be ready, she stayed. One of her best qualities. One of her bad qualities, however, was asking questions. Too many questions. She overthought, a lot. Wondered if you even liked her. You did. Wondered if you even loved her. Did you?

That was something you never asked yourself. Did you actually love Madison? And if you did, why couldn't you say it back?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There you were, laying on her bed. You didn't deserve this. Madison was the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. She was so sweet. You wanted nothing but happiness for her and you felt you weren't giving her that. For gods sake, you couldn't even say 'i love you' back.

Madison sat in her gamer chair, playing her favorite game- Dress to Impress. She looked so happy just with her game. You wanted to speak to her so bad, but you felt that you would be a bother. Like always. So you sat in silence.

Eventually, she broke it.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hm?" Your gaze moved up to meet her hazel eyes. Those eyes. She smiled.

"Do you want to do anything else? I know I've just been playing for hours and hours. You just been sitting in silence and I know you like that but-" She rambled. She tended to do that a lot. It didn't bother you. You never liked speaking. "Anyway, do you want to like- watch a movie or something?"

You thought for a moment. A movie, in Madison's words meant- cuddles, snacks, blankets and of course, a movie. In your mind it meant- fattening snacks you'd never be able to forgive yourself for eating, blankets that just makes you sweaty, a movie you'll never even pay attention to, and cuddles which meant touching.

"I don't know." You mumbled. She hated when you mumbled. But you never knew how to stop. It was a habit of yours. And you were working on it, you think.

Madison gave you a cold glare. "You can't just say 'I don't know'. You know you want to do something."

She was right. You did want to do something. But you'd never tell her.

"I know you want to do something. What is it?" She stared into your eyes. Those eyes. You sat and stared. "You can't just sit and stare." She came closer to you. "Look, I love you. But these habits of yours are really starting to frustrate me-"

Before she could continue, you did what you always did. "Sorry."

Madison shook her head. "No, don't apologize. I just wish you could talk to me. I love you." You froze. "I know you hate that but it's been 4 years. Why can't you say it back?"

"I-" You attempted. No words came out. Your breathing sped up. Your heart beating faster. Why couldn't you say it back? You knew you did.

"Don't you love me back?" She whispered. Her gaze was soft and vulnerable. The exact look that you feared. You stared.

Why couldn't you say it back? You know you do. Yes Madison, I love you. It wasn't difficult. But it was.

"I love you. Why can't you say it back?"

Yes. i love you. i love you. i love you. Why can't you say it back?

"I-"

i love you. i love you. i love you.

"I hate you."

no idiot. i love you. i love you.

"What?" You watched as she stood up.

No no no no. Tell her. Tell her. i love you.

"I like you."

i love you. Why can't you say it back?

"What?" She sat back down. That's a start.

i love you.

"I love...you?"

yes. i love you.

Madison gasped. "Did you just-"

"I love you." You whispered. You felt yourself, for once in a while, smile. The biggest smile formed on Madison's lips.

"I love you."

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. You said it back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: its not that good but i felt like i needed to just write something along these lines. commitment issues is a really big thing a lot of people struggle with. i, for one struggle with the complete opposite but im starting to feel the side of fear of commitment.

[loveandmurders]

So I read your 'What Soulmate AU for which slasher?'

And I was wondering if you could write a story for Billy Loomis?

On your wrist: "You gonna die tonight, love"

On their wrist: "And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer" 

Hello love and THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!!! Gosh, I've been so excited to write for it, so I hope you'll enjoy it very much <3

Request based on this post.

GHOSTFACE IS MY SOULMATE (Billy Loomis x female reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, morally grey reader, mentions of sexual desire, mentions of killing, Billy plans on killing you, a few strong words.

You were on your own that night. Your parents were out for a little dinner together; they were celebrating their wedding anniversary. You didn’t mind having the house all to yourself for once. You had cooked some noodles, as you were too lazy to do more, and you were distractedly watching TV. Actually, you were barely listening to whatever that was happening on the screen, as your eyes were on your wrist. Your fingers were tracing the words on your skin. Your family and friends always tease you for the first sentence your soulmate would ever say to you: You’re gonna die tonight, love. 

And you had to admit, you didn’t really get it.

Everyone had some “normal” stuff such as “Hey, my name is” or “Hey, I love your dress” or “It’s been a while I wanted to ask you out”. But no, you apparently couldn’t do the boring stuff and you had to have something about love and death. You weren’t too sure if it was a threat to be honest. It could be a sentence said during halloween for instance, or during a horror convention. You loved horror movies, so your family thought that you were gonna meet a guy or a girl or someone doing some slasher cosplay. You wanted to believe that too. It would be too strange for your soulmate to actually want to kill you, right? 

Plus you didn’t really see yourself like the kind of person who could attract serial killers; you weren't Sidney Prescott. You weren’t attracting troubles usually. In fact, your love for horror movies and gruesome stories had always surprised your relatives, because you seemed too sweet to enjoy that kind of thing.

You continued to stare at your wrist. Alright, your soulmate must also like horror stuff and probably enjoyed cosplays. It sounded like a fun soulmate, right? And the nickname showed that they were quite flirtatious. It sounded even better! 

You sighed as you stroked the “tonight” word. You couldn’t count all the time you hoped it would indeed be that night. So many of your friends had already met their mates, and even your parents found each other before your age. You started to worry. Of course, you still had a lot of time and some of your friends didn’t even have one word on their skin because their soulmate died before they met. You thought you were lucky that yours was still around, but you were getting impatient. Your parents told you you should date people even if they weren’t your soulmate, but it felt strange for you. You only wanted them, and no one else. It felt too wrong to kiss someone who wasn’t meant for you. Maybe you were too loyal and romantic.

You sighed once again, nibbling on your food. You tried to focus on the TV, so you would stop thinking about your soulmate. You relaxed a little and you told yourself that you needed to be patient, that one day you would find them and everything would be soft and happy. You grabbed the TV remote and you tried to find something good to watch. What was good when your parents weren’t home or close by was that you could watch whatever you wanted… Including very bloody and violent movies. You had always tried to play it cool about your love for horror movies and especially about slashers, but deep down, nothing was making you hornier than a big killer destroying life for the sake of it.

If you were really honest with yourself, you would admit you were a little bit jealous of the attention Sidney got from Ghostface. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t think something like that. But it sounded very hot. Such a pity you weren’t interesting enough for a killer, because you would love to be called in the middle of the night and threatened by a dangerous murderer... 

Damn, you really hoped your soulmate would understand something like that and wouldn’t think you were a weirdo. You tried to remind yourself that your mate couldn’t think something like that, because they would love all of you, even the darkest part of yourself.

You were wondering what Sidney had you didn’t though. You were sighing once again when the house phone rang and you jumped in surprise. You thought your mother was checking on you or that one of your friends wanted to chat around. Your mouth was full with noodles but you still took the phone, not saying a word while you were chewing. You waited for the person to talk, and you had to admit that you had the strange sensation of having eyes on you. It was a little bit unsettling, but you were probably getting paranoid because of your obsession and because of the local news constantly talking about Ghostface. You heard someone heavily breathing into the phone and you felt goosebumps spreading all over your skin. The sound was ominous and for an instant you had the sensation of being in one of your favourite horror movies. You swallowed your food and continued to wait for the person to speak. Your heart was beating so fast, as if you knew something was going to happen.

“You’re gonna die tonight, love” the stranger finally said and you rolled your eyes, almost face palming yourself.

“And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer” you grumbled. There was a moment of silence after that. “Hey, you’re still there?” you asked

“You’re really messing my plans up, you know that I hope” the killer you guessed was Ghostface grumpily said

“Well, sorry about that… You can still kill me though” you teased. Truth to be told, knowing that your soulmate was a serial killer was making things a lot easier for you; you wouldn’t need to hide your liking for dangerous people at all. Fate was doing things well sometimes.

“I really should because you’ve always been a pain; did you really need to call me a “serial killer” in your first words to me? Always had to hide my wrist because of that.” they continued to argue and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little giggle

“Well if you were behaving, I wouldn’t have said that!” you hummed, finding the situation very funny

“You are enjoying yourself way too much, Y/N” Ghostface commented, but you could hear a slight hint of amusement in their voice.

“Maybe.” you smiled “Are you around then?” you asked as you started to look around yourself, trying to find from where the eyes were looking at you

“I am. But I need to find someone else to kill now.” they replied

“Oh, really?” you sounded disappointed “I mean, I’m glad you won’t kill me, but I thought we could meet in person right now?” you asked. You had waited for this moment your whole life, so you weren’t too eager to let them go that easily. Ghostface chuckled.

“So impatient. Don’t worry, love, I’ll be back. Let your room window open and I’ll meet you there in a little while.” they told you

“Promise?” you asked, a little bit worried they were going to disappear from your life now you just found them

“Promise.” they hummed before hanging up

You were on your bed, impatiently waiting for your serial killer. You were trying to read but you couldn’t focus on the words laying in front of your eyes. You parents weren’t back home yet, and you hoped Ghostface was going to show up before they could interrupt anything.

You heard a sound against your wall so you sat up, your heart beating so quickly once more. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nervously played with your fingers. You had to admit that when the infamous Billy Loomis appeared at your window, you couldn’t believe it. You sat at the edge of your bed as he entered the room before leaning against the wall, the head tilted to the side. You watched each other in silence. Your heart calmed down now you were in the same room, and you could feel the bonds linking the two of you growing and becoming even stronger. You had always found Billy particularly hot, but a lot of people in school thought the same, and he knew it. You couldn’t have thought that the man was actually your soulmate. He finally softly smiled at you.

“Staying silent and not being all over me already? That’s good. You would have annoyed me otherwise” he said and you arched an eyebrow at him

“I knew that popularity was making people become assholes,” you teased and he laughed. He was liking you already. You were truly perfect. He had always thought that his soulmate would be afraid of him, or would be a problem in his masterplan, especially when the words on his wrists seemed to mean you knew the truth about him. But he shouldn’t have worried about it.

“You won’t call the police on me?” he asked you, just to make sure. You quickly shook your head.

“Of course not” you replied seriously this time “You’re my soulmate, I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I don’t mind you’re a killer. Actually, I’m not very surprised” you admitted and he smirked

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your little doodles about slashers in class. That’s why I picked you as my next target. I thought I could have some fun with you.” he told you

“You can still have some fun with me… Just a different kind of fun” you winked and he came closer to you, looking like a predator. He cupped your chin to make you look up at him.

“Already playing with fire, love” he hummed, his eyes were so dark and helding all kinds of promises “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me that easily. I was planning on killing you after all” he continued

“Key word: “was”, love” you smiled as you leaned into his touch. His fingers against your skin were sending electricity down your whole body. 

“Touché” he hummed and leaned so your lips were brushing against his. You boldly cupped his face and brought him even closer, so your mouth crashed onto his. He passionately answered your kiss and he made you lay down on the bed as he topped over you. He let you catch your breath for a second before leaning for another kiss. His touch was absolutely intoxicating and you just couldn’t get enough of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you heard him moan against your lips. He seemed to want you as badly as you wanted him. His hands were already freely roaming your body as you tried to press yourself impossibly closer to him.

“Are you gonna make out with me like that at school too?” you couldn’t help to ask, half teasing half serious

“Always” he groaned, clearly in need for more of you

“Thought you were with Sidney” you asked

“Shh, don’t worry, she’s soon to be dead anyways” he replied. His fingers were already under your top.

But you both stilled when you heard the front door being open and your mother calling your name.

“Shit” you mumbled with a pout on your lips. You had forgotten about your parents. Billy stroked your cheek and tried to calm down.

“Go downstairs. Spend some time with them. I’ll wait for them to go to bed to join you once again. You won’t get rid of me that easily” he darkly promised

“Oh yeah?” you teased, but deep down you were so relieved the man didn’t want to leave and was eager to spend as much time as possible with you. “You don’t have anything better to do?” you asked with a little smile.

“You need to make up for disturbing my plans, love” he teased back

“Y/N? You’re upstairs?” your father called for you

“Go, now, I’ll make up to you all you want tonight” you winked at him as you gently pushed him away from you, no matter how awful it felt.

“Promise?” he hummed, already knowing the answer

“Promise, my serial killer” you smiled. He stole another kiss from you before leaving your room.

Hopefully Sidney was going to be dead very soon so your boyfriend would be able to solely focus on you, you thought as you went downstairs, a smile on your face.

“How was your evening, mom, dad? Mine was really great” you said

“Ah yes?” your mother smiled at you, waiting for you to elaborate

“I think I’m in love” you hummed, your head full of love, death, kisses and chaos.

[secriden]

THK Episode 1 thoughts in no particular order or level of coherency:

I didn't see Fadel as Lawful Good coming, but at the same time it makes perfect sense now that I've seen the episode

Somehow, I now kinda ship First with both Joong and Dunk and I cannot explain it even to myself but damn.

Khaotung's ability to not just sound and act but nearly exude the presence of a naive innocent young man, head still in the clouds and dreaming of true love, is Truly Impressive. I actually believe, not only that he's younger than Fadel, but that he genuinely lacks the emotional maturity too even process the risk that Fadel sees.

I now appreciate so much what people said about First's almost understated detailed acting because those rapid shifts in his expressions said so much in tiny increments of time, I'm blown away.

Dunk is so pretty, Dunk is so pretty, DUNK IS SO FUCKING PRETTY!?!?!

But also please I adore everything Dunk did as Style he gave absolutely everything for that character and held nothing back. The way he just... went for it?? In all the scenes, every single one? I'm trying not to be too spoiler-y but damn, I get it when First said that Dunk really embodied Style because he really really DID!!!

That ending was genius my brain immediately lit up with all the ways this could go and I'm SO EXCITED

The way the sex wasn't even remotely the most insanity-inducing thing in this episode really goes to show how well this was made but also ITS HILARIOUS

Having said that, damn it was hot!!

Joong's eyebrows eyebrowing so hard <3

I don't think JoongDunk were meant to have sexual tension at all in this episode but they still felt very sexy to me. Maybe its just me, but it felt like tension even when Fadel is mostly just pissed off there's that... okay, you know how the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy? Guess what, zero apathy right here!!

I'm genuinely so happy with what we got though. It really is as light and silly and camp and gorgeous as they promised and I'm so so grateful for that. There's potential for devastation (I see you, Kant, hiding backstory hints inside your soft serve!), but also how lucky are we to get silly romantic shenanigans with the murder brother duo and their (future) flirty boyfriends???

Also the music!? Can we talk about THE MUSIC?? it was so... idk, like it was almost its own character in this episode. It was like audience direction with how much it would abruptly change the tone of the scene. I wonder if this will continue throughout the show or if they're doing it because it's the first episode and they're really really laying those comedy foundations down, but its fascinating.

I can't believe we get "Good Morning, krub" and "love at first sight" in the same episode omg ;A; <3

Style should've learned from the expert:

[boba-beom]

･ﾟﾟ･｡ my beautiful girlfriend | WEN JUNHUI

pairing: idol/actor!junhui x ff!reader // genre: oneshot; hurt, comfort, angst(?) // warnings: petnames; (baby and love), misunderstanding, overthinking, crying, lowkey self-depricating, proofread quickly. // wc: 1.6k

a/n: merry christmas <3 @honajoong hii lex!! I'm your secret santa :> despite starting a little late, I wanted to be involved as well and I got you!! I will admit I struggled to write for junhui since he's the first seventeen member I've written about, but hopefully I think I managed to grasp his characteristics(?) 🥹 I hope it's okay!! also 'yn yln' is 'your name' and 'your last name' :>

Two years. Two whole years since jun asked to be your boyfriend. Two whole years since you started supporting him through his acting career. But never in your two whole years together were you jealous about his co-stars or fans. You've always been hidden away from the public, not going to any events together. Not even getting barricade tickets for his and his group's concerts for the sake of not getting caught somehow.

It's always been like that though. But that's because no one knew about your relationship, not even the rest of his group members.

Jealousy has never been an issue for you until you read an article regarding jun's new upcoming Chinese drama. See, this was new to you. Usually you'd be excited; treating him to order take out from his favourite place, or buying him small gifts to add to his collection of other things you got him within your relationship.

As you read article after article the majority published about how jun and his co-star make such a good couple. Some even published pictures of them together at the premier event they recently attended, while others are scene captures from the said drama.

There was this one picture you saw that made your heart drum disturbingly loud in your ears, not because of the photo itself but because of the comments regarding it. Your eyes dart from comment to comment, 'Wen Junhui and ____ have incredible chemistry', 'A new couple in made in the industry?', 'I hope they're dating in real life.'

Your breathing pattern becomes ragged from the thought of feeling like you're hindering Jun in his life. If you were just making things difficult for him since you were no one but a regular person who works a 9-5 job. In times like this, which was rare, you had no one but yourself to console you.

A single tear runs down your cheek which has you vigorously wiping it off your face, refusing to let yourself become so weak because of this.

You see a text appear from the top of your phone, a text from your boyfriend asking how you were and letting you know when he'll be home, but a part of you felt like you were sinking inside. All these comments getting to your head about Jun and his co-star, but you know you shouldn't think that way. Besides, you never used to think that way initially.

Thinking that it's best to sleep off the thoughts gathering in your head, you grab the folded blanket beside you on the couch, splaying it over you as you play music from the t.v, hoping that would help you get your mind off it.

Hours pass, the living room dim from the lack of light but only from the t.v itself. You pick up your phone to check the time, and while you were asleep, you received multiple texts and a missed call from Jun; all the messages asking if you've eaten, what you want to watch later in the evening, and so forth.

However, you didn't feel like messaging him back, or even calling him back either. You thought your nap would rid of the uncomfortable overthinking, but it just has you questioning, 'why is he even with me?' He could pick any other girl, but why did he choose you. He has a beautiful co-star with incredible chemistry, why doesn't he just ask her to be his girlfriend instead—

"Yn?" Jun's voice echoes in the room and cuts off your trail of thoughts.

You refuse to turn your back and greet him, instead, you pick up the remote and search through films to watch as if he wasn't calling your name again.

"Hey, did you get my texts? Have you decided what you wanna eat tonight?" Jun asks again, caressing the top of your head and missed as he tried to kiss the top of your head, but you flinched away.

"Not hungry." You reply curtly.

He could sense something was off, not wanting to think too much into it, he lets it slide as he goes into the bedroom for a quick shower and change of clothes. He hasn't seen you behave this way before, wondering what possibly could have happened recently to tick you off. His mind was thinking of every possibility but to think of articles since his shoots for the drama were quite a while ago.

As he walks back into the living room, you're still sitting in the same spot on the couch. He walks around the couch to sit beside you, lifting the side of the blanket to share, but you take it off and let him have all of it instead.

Jun turns his head to look at you, a questioning expression on his face yet you don't turn to look at him. A straight, unbothered face is what he sees as your eyes are stuck on whatever movie you put on the t.v.

"Is everything alright? I feel like I've done something wro-"

"Everything's fine." You lie, cutting him off and not wanting to think about it anymore. For the first time in a while you almost didn't want to be in his presence for the sake of keeping sane.

"Well it doesn't sound fine." He turns his body, attempting to test the waters as he places a careful hand on your lap. This time you don't flinch.

You sigh. Pausing before you answer him honestly, "Because it's not."

"Love, how am I supposed to know what's bothering you if you won't tell me straight?" Jun's hand starts caressing your thigh in attempt to comfort you and allow you to open up to him, like you usually do.

You try to gather your thoughts and stare at one spot, but nothing in particular, on the t.v as your breathing becomes uneven. It's difficult talking about a feeling you never thought you had to ever talk about, but it was bound to happen at least once in your life. And that was this current moment in time.

A stuck, choked up feeling in your throat starts to erupt as you struggle to find the words to say, leading to you struggling to stop yourself from tearing up out of frustration.

You explain about the articles you've read about him and his co-star, the ones headlining and the comments you've seen. Your breathing hitches a little while you're talking, and Jun couldn't help but scoot closer to you with his arm around you.

"I tried my best to not let it bother me, but it was a lot to take in. I'm sorry." Jun wipes away at your tears, listening intently as you continue, "I know it's your job, I understand if I'm being unacceptable and if you don't want to be with me anymore."

Tears are non-stop streaming down your face, also because you're mad at yourself for becoming so weak and letting this get to you in the first place. You feel Jun's hand resting on the middle of your back, rubbing it with comfort.

You continue letting out your hushed cries, burying your face into his chest with muffled sorries leaving you. Jun's never seen you cry so much and his heart drops at the sound of your irregular breathing pattern in attempt to stop yourself crying. How could you stop when he hugs you tight momentarily, slowly swaying you side to side as he rests his cheek by your temple.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He cups your cheek, pulling back to hold your face close to his. "You know you're always going to be the one for me. I'm sorry that hiding our relationship has been difficult, I know. I want to let everyone know that I'm yours, but right now it's a little tricky, and I know that's no excuse but I swear I will let people know. Sooner than later, I promise."

Your sobs quieten down, a little exhausted from the thoughts occupying your mind the whole day. But you respond with a slow nod and a tight lipped smile as you both shuffle on the couch and lay your head on his chest as his hand finds its way to skim up and down your back once again.

･ﾟﾟ･｡ ･ﾟﾟ･｡ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

It's been a few days since Jun had comforted you. Your phone pings from a notification about another article that had just released with the headline reading, 'Wen Junhui breaks rumours about dating co-star and is a relationship with Yn Yln"

You read it once more. And another time, expecting there to be hate thrown at you, but there was nothing but love and support from Jun's fans. It was entirely different to how you thought they would take it, but you're just grateful that it didn't go that way at all.

Your boyfriend's tall figure walks through the door with a bouquet of flowers, not even a couple of minutes after you had read the article, and he's making his way to you sat by the breakfast bar.

His subtle smile curves his lips as he holds the bouquet out for you. While you, on the other hand, are pouting; worried that it might ruin his career and receive potential hate, but Jun was unbothered. He was certain about it.

"You didn't have to do that, Jun." You insist, receiving the flowers from him. "I don't want this to affect your career."

He stands by your knees as you face him, towering over you ever so slightly.

"I wanted to let them know. I can't keep hiding this relationship forever," he kisses your forehead as his hands plant on your shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze. "And honesty, as much as I love to keep you to myself, they need to know that you're my beautiful girlfriend."

© BOBA-BEOM ; do not repost, alter, translate, or claim as yours on here or any other platform.

tags: @lovejoshua @junniieesbby @flwrseon

permanent taglist: @choiwrld @yjusei @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque

[dramatic-dolphin]

Re. Your women being so scared thing. And to be clear I mostly agree with you.

I'm not sure where you're from, but I'm from New York, and I can say for sure that I'd feel more safe in the most dangerous part of the UK than basically anywhere in the US. My Parisian aunt thinks Gare du Nord too dangerous to walk near under any circumstances, but to me it seems like a normal bigger train station level of danger, and the streets around it seem normal. I lived in a university town in the UK for a year, and I never felt in danger there or in London, even alone, even in the middle of the night. I was never alone in Berlin, but I was out at night, and I felt at least as comfortable as I would in New York. So I think, at last in the places I've been and from my experience, America is more dangerous and much scarier. I have never been street harassed in the UK, and I have been harassed and followed in New York plenty, and had several people attempt to attack me. Men in the US will also often harass you from a car, which is an explicit threat. It's also important to remember that parking lots are bad places to be and most of the US has to drive, and therefore park.

That said, I know some women who won't ride the subway at night, or at all, and that seems very paranoid to me. If you're riding at a remotely normal time and are paying any attention to your surroundings, you're almost certainly going to be fine. I also know girls who, even once they're in a car, of course, will send friends their location just in case. This seems extremely paranoid to me. Maybe check you're going the right way like one time. I do still think some of the things people do can be reasonable caution - yeah, didn't go hiking on a first date - but the perspective people are throwing at you strikes me as distinctly privileged. No one who's ever had a job can think that way. I've worked with a few women who took cars home after every shift, or their dad or their boyfriend picked them up in a car, and at that point, you have a job as a hobby, because unless he works nearby, you just spent your minimum wage on gas. If you take a cab home in New York, from Manhattan to any other borough, that's most of your pay. So to me, this level of paranoia generally reads that you've never had to be alone anywhere so you don't understand what it means, and you've never had to do shit with, and if you did do it, the money wasn't important.

Yeah a lot of time I get mad at this online because it just seems overly paranoid to me, and then a woman comes in with a personal experience or anecdotes, and it hits me that maybe the US *is* actually that bad? I live in Hungary, and I really like walking alone in the city at night, or going for long walks in the forest alone, and I've never really felt unsafe doing that, but - and this is crucial - neither have most of the women I talk to. Or at least, not to this degree. So, yeah, the US is possibly worse and more unsafe? I can believe that, it's just hard to conceptualize I guess, since the US likes to portray itself as tbe baseline for a "civilized" country, and I live in *Eastern Europe*. So there's preconceptions here, lol.

But yes, a lot of these, even when corrected for this, are just paranoid, there's no other way to see it. Like, no matter where you live, you truly do NOT need to share your location every time you leave home. And there's also the matter of being disconnected from the people and community around you, like being scared to help your neighbor or someone on your street. We live in a society, you kind of have to take an active part of it.

A lot of it is just a lot of energy spent on being scared every waking moment of your life. Like, okay, in the reddit thread I saw this in, there was a woman saying that she ALWAYS puts her ID in her front pocket when she goes outside so they can easily IDENTIFY THE BODY IF SHE DIES. Like what material good does worrying about this bring to your life? It's not even a self-defense technique, doing this will not help you with staying alive!! All it does is make you think about "oh no, I could get murdered" every time you leave the house. This is NOT a healthy mindset!

It's like a strange and widespread kind of anxiety, and the worst part is, it has you convinced it's necessary, and you can't get rid of it unless you make an active effort to do things despite being scared. First you have to convince yourself that you *won't* get murdered by your date if you don't share your location, and that's the hardest part. And yeah lol, having to do things alone helps you with this tremendously, because you realize that you've just taken the subway at night alone and survived. But if you're never forced to do things alone, you get stuck in this weird fear spiral, and whenever you see a stranger, you end up thinking about how they could murder you.

[lucagray813]

Sensitive Ear

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4,333

Characters: MK, Macaque, Wukong

Relationships: MK & Macaque, Macaque & Wukong (could be interpreted as Macaque/Wukong)

Summary: What are the limitations of the Six-Eared Macaque's ability to know the past and future?

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

----

In light of the Scroll of Memory and the offensive comments from Macaque, MK had decided that he needed to brush up on his Monkey King knowledge. Clearly a lifetime of Tang's retellings of the legendary Journey to the West hadn't been enough and he decided to go straight to the source.

After an unbecoming amount of pleading, Monkey King had caved and presented him with the only unabridged written account of his adventures - literally buried beneath Flower Fruit Mountain's library.

Which seemed excessive to him but it was clear as Monkey King handed over to him how much he wished to snatch it back and bury it once more but after everything he’d put him through, MK figured that Monkey King owed him at least this much.

Before he could shoot off and start reading, Monkey King stopped him, looking guilty he requested, "Look, kid. You deserve to know everything but well, I'm just warning you now not everything makes for pleasant reading. I've done things I'm not proud of. But... Just come talk to me first before you think too badly of me, alright?"

MK was agreeable, "I will. I know this is the unabridged version but nothing will be as detailed as the Scroll of Memory. But I also know you're not the same monkey you were. You're way better."

Monkey King grinned and ruffled his hair before throwing an arm around him as he led them out, "What did I do to deserve a successor like you, huh?"

Well, MK guessed he was about to find out.

----

The unabridged version of Journey to the West had been enlightening to say the least. He was still working his way through it but so far it had been an invaluable source of knowledge and unexpectedly he felt it had brought him and Monkey King closer.

Which he had to admit was largely because Monkey King seemed to have resolved himself to be honest and upfront whenever MK came to him with a question. Which while sometimes serious, would often result in Monkey King's spirited retelling of the adventure in question which MK couldn't deny he ate up every time.

He had however recently come to the story of the Six-Eared Macaque and his part to play in Monkey King's journey towards enlightenment and it made for some somber reading.

He couldn't quite bring himself to talk to Monkey King about it yet. Combined with what he'd seen in the Scroll of Memory - he couldn't imagine that it would be an easy thing for him to talk about.

After taking a few days to think on it and coming to terms with Macaque's fate. He decided that there were perhaps safer questions he could ask about this chapter with the other monkey in question. And boy, did he have so many questions.

It wasn't too hard to find Macaque these days, if he was in the mood to be approached, you could often find him lazing in a tree somewhere around the island, apparently content to do absolutely nothing.

So, after finding him one day, he loudly cleared his throat as he walked towards him and read out from the open book in his hand, "The fourth is the Six-Eared Macaque, who has a sensitive ear, discernment of fundamental principles, knowledge of past and future, and comprehension of all things."

He closed the book with flair and looked up at Macaque expectantly, the monkey did not look remotely fazed to see him or the book he was reading from. In fact, he didn't even deign to sit up, still reclining on a tree branch above him.

"Ah, MK. Took up my advice to do some reading, huh? Wise choice. I'm sure Wukong is thrilled."

He let himself be momentarily distracted, defending his mentor passionately, "Hey! I'll have you know it was Monkey King who gave me this book! And he's been super good at answering all my questions!"

Macaque laughed a little meanly, before sitting up against the trunk of the tree to grin down at him, "Oh? I'm curious about the questions and answers on this chapter. Do tell."

MK fibbed slightly, "Er... I've only just finished it but I have questions for you first! Mr. "Knowledge of Past and Future"! How could you know the future and get into trouble with the Buddha and with the Lady Bone Demon?"

Macaque rubbed at his chin thoughtfully before he shrugged. He brought his hands to his ears for a moment and when he pulled them away, there were six where there had been two.

MK gasped dramatically and pointed at him, "You've had six ears this whole time!?"

"Why did you think I was called the Six-Eared Macaque?"

MK floundered, he had no answer. Lots of demons in Journey to the West had long and strange names, although admittedly most of them were pretty apt descriptors of the demon in question.

He shrugged sheepishly and Macaque just looked unimpressed. Wanting to move past his embarrassment quickly, he asked, "Why hide them?"

His response was sarcastic, "Oh right, because I just love idiots stopping to gawk at them."

MK quickly brought his eyes back to Macaque's face, not having even realised they had strayed - in his defense though they were glowing various different colours, it was a little distracting.

"Alright, fair point. Why'd you show me them?"

"Well, I can't have Wukong answering your questions about me - he'll get it all wrong."

"Wait. You're actually going to answer my questions properly? No talking around them or being vague?"

"I know. Don't you feel special? But as I said, you get your information from Wukong on this and you'll be expecting the impossible from me. So ask away, kid."

Somewhat suspicious but admittedly a little excited he made his way up the tree Macaque was in to sit on a nearby branch. Holding the book tightly, he asked, "You can really see the future?"

Macaque shook his head and pointed to his ears, "I can hear the future if I choose to. No visual to go along with it. Which as you can imagine does hamper my ability to properly know the future."

"Oh! So you don't just like know the future? You have to actually choose to listen to it?"

"That is what I just said, yes."

"But your plan to imitate Monkey King - you must have checked to see if that would actually work?"

"The future's not set in stone, kid. I can listen to various possibilities - the further in the future I listen, the less certain the outcome."

MK couldn't help but feel disappointed, "This power is sounding less useful by the minute."

Macaque shrugged, "It has its uses to me every once in a while but I'll admit knowing the future doesn't always mean you can do anything about it either. Sometimes by focusing on one future, you inadvertently cause another."

He supposed that made sense, still not completely down and out over it however he asked, "Can you show me how it works? How do you listen to the future?"

Macaque seemed to think about it before he shrugged again, "Sure, give me a time and a place to listen in on and I'll give it a go. Preferably somewhere close in space and time. I can listen for the most probable future."

Not quite prepared to have Macaque actually show him, he scrabbled for what to ask, "Er... What am I having for dinner tonight?"

Aw man, he could potentially learn his future and that's all he could think to ask?

Macaque sighed heavily, "Time and place, kid."

"Oh, right! Pigsy's Noodles! And I guess, at like eight tonight?"

Macaque sat in a way reminiscent of Monkey King when he meditated and MK's eyes were drawn to his ears. The top set had been switching between gently glowing black and white but now there was only a pure black light emitting from them. The colours from his other ears were almost completely muted.

For several minutes, nothing happened. And MK wondered if he should be concerned - should it take this long? Macaque didn't look like he was in pain or anything.

Unable to help himself he tried to ask him what the hold up was but Macaque didn't so much as twitch at his questioning, and no matter how close or how loud he shouted in his ears he didn't respond. Being prodded or shaken had no effect either.

Ok, he was starting to see why looking into the future might not be a good idea if this is what was involved - Macaque was totally vulnerable! He had a fleeting thought that he could pull a prank on him but he couldn’t bring himself to betray Macaque’s trust like that.

Another several minutes later and finally the black glow faded and Macaque opened his eyes, bringing a hand to rub at his temple, "You're having Ma Po Tofu. And don't be alarmed if Tang has a bandage around his hand - he got hurt trying to swipe food before it was ready. Also, if Mei invites you for a ride on her bike wear a helmet." He then paused, "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"I'm practically indestructible! What do I need a helmet for?"

"If you're not partial to a full head of hair then by all means you set a bad example for impressionable young minds."

Bringing his hands to his hair protectively he cried, "I'm going to lose my hair!?"

"It's a possibility."

Silently swearing he'd wear a helmet from now on, he brought his hands down and asked, "You were out for like fifteen minutes! What took you so long?"

Still rubbing at his head, Macaque responded, "You know how much sound there is between here and Pigsy's Noodles? And then how much there is between now and several hours from now? It's a lot to sift through."

"Oh. You can't just like fast forward to the right bit?"

Macaque shot him an annoyed look, "I sorted through hours worth of information in 15 minutes - I'd say that was fast forwarding. You try listening to the future some time, see how well you handle it."

Macaque finally brought his hand away from his head and MK asked, "Does it hurt? Listening to all that noise?"

"It's not pleasant. If I'm at it too long I have the worst migraine you could imagine."

He felt a little bad that he'd had Macaque demonstrate for him but then again Macaque had offered and he had no idea that it sucked so much to do it.

"Does listening to something further in the future take more time then?"

Macaque nodded, "Coupled with a migraine and how uncertain the far future is - it's just not worth the effort."

"Dude, this power seems totally useless! It does you more harm than good and it might not even be accurate? No wonder you don't use it."

Macaque shrugged, "Try telling that to the Lady Bone Demon. My ability to hear the future was why she sought me out in the first place. My ears were basically at her command - could only use them when she let me and all she wanted to know was the most likely outcome of her various plans to reset the world. Ugh, my head was killing me every second she had me captive. And don't get me started on what she was like when I didn't give her the answer she wanted."

He'd never thought too much about Macaque's relationship with the Lady Bone Demon. On the hunt for the Samadhi Fire, Macaque had at first made it seem like he was working for her by choice. He was beginning to realise Macaque had probably had a worse time than anyone else had with her.

"But enough about that witch. Questions about my ability to hear the future satisfied?"

Mood significantly lower after thinking about the Lady Bone Demon, he tried to focus back on why he'd originally sought Macaque out, "Uh... Yeah. Thanks for the demonstration. I guess that's how listening to the past goes too?"

He nodded and pointed to the lowest ear on his right, "Only difference is the set of ears I use to listen but same deal. Although accuracy is more or less guaranteed with the past."

The bottom ears glowed red and green.

"Do the colours mean anything?"

"Hm? Ah, they just correspond with wǔxíng - green is furthest back, black is furthest forward."

"What about your middle ears? They're just yellow."

"For hearing the present - much easier to use than past and future but still likely to end in a headache if I stretch it too far."

He looked down at the book in his hands in consideration, "Do you ever listen to the past...?"

Macaque glanced down at the book and understood what he was really asking, "People that live in the past aren't really living. I'll admit I peak every once in a while but sometimes it's better not to know. If I'm listening to the past, it's for information I can use in the present or will be helpful in the future. I don't linger."

He nodded absentmindedly, that was probably a good thing. But his mind had started to wander to other applications of Macaque's abilities.

There was a part of him that desperately wanted Macaque to listen to his past - tell him how he'd shown up at Pigsy's door all the years ago but his fear of the answer would never allow the question past his lips. Not to mention it was asking a lot of Macaque, it might take him days and then to top it off he'd have a migraine from hell.

He supposed it was a power that might be helpful for the present, or the immediate past or future but Macaque was right - it didn't sound worth it most of the time. No wonder it didn't help him any with the Buddha or the Lady Bone Demon.

"I think you've answered all my Six-Eared related questions. Thanks for actually just talking straight with me."

Macaque huffed, "I suppose it does make for a nice change of pace every once in a while. You sure that's everything? Because once I put the ears away you've lost your chance for an easy answer."

He looked down at the book in his hands. He wanted to know about Monkey King's past to help him with his future - given that his mentors old "friends" and enemies kept popping up to cause him trouble. But while he was curious about what had gone down between Monkey King and Macaque. It felt wrong for him to know more than he did.

He knew more than most and anything else he learned would be about the complicated feelings that the two no doubt had for each other and what happened. It wasn't for him to know.

"I guess I have one last question... Do you think you and Monkey King will ever talk about what happened?"

Macaque brought his hands up to his ears, and when he brought them away there were only two.

"Who can say? For the moment, we have a truce of sorts. And I can live with that for now. Not going to get Wukong's take on that chapter then?"

"No. I don't think I should. Sometimes it's better not to know, right?"

"I'm telling you, kid. You listen to me more often and you'll go far."

----

Wukong had waited until MK had left the island for the day before seeking out Macaque. He found him methodically cutting up fruit a good distance away from the mountain.

Despite, making his approach obvious, Macaque didn't bother to look up at him as he came into view. He just continued his work, seemingly unbothered his spoils were being pilfered by some of the island monkeys.

He came to stand a few feet away, eyeing up the other, waiting to see if he'd be acknowledged. When he wasn't he tried to think carefully how to broach the topic he had in mind.

"You weren't honest with, MK."

Macaque glanced at him before shrugging, "I didn't lie either."

"He thinks your powers to hear the past and future are pretty much useless."

Macaque sighed and put down the fruit and knife in his hand, "Forgive me, if I find it works out better for me if people don't know what I'm capable of."

It irked him that Macaque had led MK to believe his powers weren't at all a dangerous thing, sure his long term future hearing was probably not that reliable but all his other abilities could be used to devastating effect. Particularly if combined with certain artefacts or magic to speed up the process or lessen the pain.

He wasn't really sure what he hoped to achieve by confronting Macaque. Maybe his new honesty policy with MK was convincing him that everyone should follow suit.

He sat down with a huff, "MK's a good kid. He wouldn't have done anything if he knew. You just want him to underestimate you."

Macaque's eyebrow twitched, "If you're just here to start something then leave. I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

He pushed down the instinct to bite back with an inflammatory response and took a breath, "I'm just here to try and understand."

"Like hell, people who want to understand don't start by throwing around accusations. Try taking a leaf out of the kid's book sometime and don't assume you already know the answer. Because you rarely do."

Wukong's tail swished agitatedly behind him, "And you do? Crazy how often someone who can hear the past and future gets it wrong."

Macaque snarled at him, before catching himself and standing with an aggravated sound, "This is pointless. I don't need to hear the future to know that talking to you is a waste of time and energy. You just never know when to leave well enough alone."

Wukong stood, "Oh typical Macaque! Something's too difficult so he'll just run away!"

"Have you ever noticed that you're the thing that's too difficult? I was literally just sitting here, minding my business! And I didn't owe MK any answers! Just like I don't owe you any answers! You want the kid to know what I can do? Fine! You tell him! Not like you've ever cared what I wanted anyway!"

Wukong felt like he'd been slapped, "That's not true! I-"

He what? Had always cared? Always listened? Always put what someone else wanted before what he wanted?

None of that was true.

Why were they even arguing? Macaque hadn't done anything wrong. Was it really a big deal that MK didn't know every application of Macaque's powers? He hadn't known anything about his ears before now but suddenly Wukong was unhappy that Macaque hadn't felt obliged to tell him anything other than what he'd asked?

What was wrong with him?

He swallowed, temper immediately reduced to embers, "I- I won't tell, MK. You... You're right. You didn't owe him any answers."

An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't get it past his teeth.

Macaque looked taken off guard by the complete one-eighty, but he too calmed to respond warily, "Er... Alright. Good?"

Wukong tried to pull some semblance of an explanation together, "I just want what's best for MK. That shouldn't be at your detriment though. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Macaque scoffed, "There's a surprise. I still don't get why you flew off the handle like that."

Wukong crossed his arms and looked away - guilt warring with righteousness.

Macaque sounded incredulous, "You thought I was going to use my powers against the kid?"

"Don't act like that's unreasonable! It wasn't that long ago you were trying to kill us all! You can't expect me to forget that in just a couple of months!"

Macaque's tail lashed behind him, "Oh, of course! Why would I expect you of all people to think someone can change?"

"That doesn't mean you trust someone blindly! You think I would let you hang about my island if-"

"Your island!? This was just as much my home as it was yours!"

"Yeah it was! Past tense!"

"So what? Now I need to earn the right to call this place home again?"

"Yes! I mean, no! This is your home!" He made an aggravated noise, "Why are we fighting!?"

"You started it!"

"Well, I want to stop! I don't want to fight!"

"Then stop yelling!"

"You stop yelling!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The both turned away from each other and Wukong felt his face heat up at how stupid this was. They literally couldn't say two words to each other without it dissolving into an argument.

He heard Macaque groan, "Look, I get why you don't trust me. The feeling's mutual but I just want to get on with my life. I don't want to hurt MK. Hell, I don't even want to hurt you most days. I'm done." He sighed heavily, before admitting quietly, "I'm tired. I... I just want to come home."

He decided to ignore that there were still some days where apparently Macaque did still want to hurt him as he felt Macaque's sentiment keenly. He was probably the only one who knew what it felt like to be so tired, to be so desperate for peace.

They'd both been forced away for five hundred years suffering their respective punishments, albeit not concurrently. And he knew deep down a part of him desperately wanted Macaque to come home too.

"I'm... I get that. What it's like to be tired... To want to come home... I-"

Macaque cut him off sharply, "Don't." He then took a breath, "Not tonight. I- I can't handle this conversation right now. It won't end well."

"...will it ever end well?"

Macaque stayed silent for a moment before admitting, "I haven't listened. I don't want to know."

Wukong nodded, deciding it was time to leave, he offered a roundabout apology, "I... I could have handled this better. Shouldn't have come already thinking the worst." He tried to grin, "I've still got a lot to learn from MK, I guess."

Macaque played along, "I'll say." He looked at him seriously, "He's a good kid, Wukong."

It sounded like a warning but he understood, "Yeah, I know."

He wasn't going to mess this up. He could admit he'd started off as a poor excuse for a mentor and friend but he was going to do better. He was already doing better.

Macaque seemed to accept all that had went unsaid and turned away, and swiped up the knife he'd been using to cut fruit, "Well, alright then... I'm off. The apple orchard is calling my name."

With a final nod, he walked off, quickly disappearing amongst the shadows between the trees.

Well, that could have gone worse. In fact, he'd even call that a tentative success. Though they really would need to figure out a way to communicate without getting so worked up almost immediately. Unfortunately, he couldn't lay all the blame at Macaque's feet for that one.

As he made his way back to the mountain, he reflected on Macaque's ears. He hadn't really meant to spy on him and MK earlier but he stood by his perhaps slightly overly protective nature when MK was around Macaque.

It'd been a long time since he'd seen them properly, he'd been surprised that Macaque had been so willing to show them to MK.

He could easily remember hundreds of moments when he'd been distracted by their glow.

MK couldn't possibly appreciate what those ears were truly capable of. They could hear sounds you wouldn't have thought existed - the stretch of muscles, plants growing, the frequency of stationary metals. Macaque could hear it all.

And he could pinpoint where those sounds were in space with terrifying accuracy - meaning a lack of visuals for the past and future was hardly a detriment. Sure he couldn't see the features of someone's face or clothes, couldn't appreciate any scenery but that was a truly minor detail.

In practice, Macaque could use this to predict someone's moves in a fight. Forever at least one step ahead of his opponent. It was why he had been able to perfectly fool everyone bar the Buddha of his imitation and how he was able to go toe to toe with him in a fight.

It wasn't an ability without flaws - it could quickly take its toll and as Macaque had said to MK, knowing the future didn't mean you could do anything about it but Macaque could use it with devastating effectiveness.

And don't get him started on hearing the past. Macaque could process and retain an insane amount of information, if he had the time and motivation he could learn everything about a person, could know their whole life and he had little issue with using that knowledge against someone.

And boy, was Macaque more than willing to suffer to get that information if he had the right motivation - take for example, a desire for revenge. Macaque knew things about his journey no-one else should know and he had previously not hesitated to hurt him with that knowledge.

And then of course, just his hearing for the present made him an impressive tracker. You'd be hard pressed to hide from the Six-Eared Macaque.

All this to say, Macaque was not someone you wanted as your enemy. He was extraordinarily skilled and he would happily spite himself just to cause you to suffer.

But, he tried to remind himself, when Macaque wasn't your enemy he could be an exceptional ally. Something, Wukong was slowly starting to hope he could one day be again - if not something more.

--End--

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[jedisandspacepirates]

Thoughts on Jod Na Nawood and Where We Go From Here

So, Jod Na Nawood. Spoilers ahead for 1x05, read at your own risk.

After watching 1x05 and seeing other folks's thoughts about what went down there, I felt the need to write something.

Now I'm going to start by saying that from the beginning, I (and everyone, really, I'm sure) was wondering just who Jod is, really. I didn't immediately buy into the idea that he's a Jedi just because he can use the Force. That doesn't make or define a Jedi, I don't think. Anyway, it kept me wondering and kept me interested. I will be honest and say that in the first few episodes, I sort of hoped that despite the fact that he's a pirate, a scoundrel in it for his own interests....I had hoped that his heart would soften at least a little bit, being with the kids. But now I remember what Jude himself has said about Jod and his perspective of the kids. According to Jude, Jod has this sort of disdain because his childhood was taken from him (or something along those lines iirc). It's a little sad because apparently Jod didn't have that. But, Jude said, he also doesn't want the kids to end up the same way he did.

Either way, I think it's interesting that Jod has twice done things that remotely demonstrate even the vaguest, faintest sense of...I won't call it affection but whatever it is, he isn't disregarding them.

First example, when he reunites with the kids on At Achrann. Neel and Wim run to him and hug him, and he just holds them close. He could have easily been aloof, or shoved them off and been like 'Ick. Small humans. Go away.'

Second example, when he finds Wim crying. Initially, he's very much repelled by the sight and turns as if to leave, but then goes back, sits down and talks to Wim about it. True, he doesn't give very good advice when he says to let go those attachments (Granted: to the Jedi, that's important, but in the sense of being free from those attachments not in the sense of cutting off love and wholesome, good human connections). But it just caught my attention.

Another thing I thought interesting is exactly how the writers are presenting him. I don't have extensive experience with studying writing methods or even observing it in the shows I watch, but I've noted that in some of the best written stories, the big reveals are almost never obvious. That's sort of their nature, no? Like why would it be a surprise if it's already been spoiled before its time?

What's my point?

This. I think it's notable that when they first present Jod, it's in an ambiance of mystery, so much that everyone is asking 'Who is he?' They're already laying down that idea of wanting to figure him out completely and see what he's made of. Now after 1x05, it was striking to me to see Jod invoke the pirate code and threaten Fern with a knife at her neck.

Let's unpack that moment first. There's a few things I want to point out.

Jod hesitates. It seemed to me like he's debating, really turning around in his head the idea of what he's considering doing. It struck me because we see only moments before how quickly he had SM-33 fill the pit back up with acid and melt the pirates. Jod has no problem with killing, that's clear. So why did he make such an effort not to harm Fern, if he's as despicable a man as we're supposedly led to think he is?

He holds the knife near her neck, but not nearly enough to harm her. It's a threat to make it real enough for her, but he's not trying to harm her. Anyway you dice it, it's NOT okay that he did that and I don't approve it, I just think that it's worth noting.

He keeps insisting that she has to say 'I yield' because that's what the Code demands. 'You literally have to say it,' he tells her.

Then, and this point's more flimsy, up to interpretation, I suppose, but...the bit with the chair. I assumed, on first watch, that he didn't react because he simply didn't care what happened to the kids now that they're out of his way, but I saw a post once (if it was yours or you know who wrote it, tell me please and I'll credit them here) pointed out it's because he knew what the chair would do and he knew where they were going--into a tunnel.

Lastly, I was thinking about this more recently and it came to mind that Jod could have, essentially, done this at any point when he was with them, no? Why did he chose THAT moment to do it? Furthermore (and I mentioned this in a different post), I find it very suspicious that the writers, if they do intend to make Jod out to be the actual Bad Guy ™ po

That's it, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[wanderingblindly]

The new October Birds chapter is lovely (and you are too for writing such a gorgeous fic)!

Any behind the scenes information you want to share about it? Sentences that didn't make it in or oscar POV moments that can't get told from the fic's POV?

- Snippet Anon

(october birds)

oh my goodness thank you so much darling! Chapter two was one that I initially felt very little confidence in (I think I sent it to like, three people to see if the vibe matched the first one even remotely), so the response it's garnered has absolutely floored me. I literally cannot say thank you enough 😭💖

There were fewer things that stumped me in ch2 than in ch1, thank fuck lol. But there's one scene that I really did struggle with, and one key Oscar moment I haven't seen anyone comment on yet!

New Years

Ok so when I was originally picturing the new years scene, I wanted it to be with small fireworks on the beach. Then I rubbed my two (2) braincells together and realized that A) Perth is literally not near the beach at all for the sake of a midnight trip B) fireworks are super illegal in Tas. So that was very fun for me.

That then posed a big question of 'where the fuck are they meant to go?'.

At first I considered seeing if they could reasonably find a viewpoint of the Launceston or Hobart fireworks shows, since those are close enough to be feasible. But then I was like 'fuck, Lando had the anxiety moment about not going into the city, idk if there's really a place that would be isolated enough AND in view of the fireworks'.

After spending a lot of time on google maps, I found a viewpoint that was quite lovely: Max's Lookout in Nunamara, Tasmania. It's about a 40 minute drive away, and I could embellish the details to sell The Fantasy that I was picturing -- delightful!

In terms of the actual Event, the parts that I rewrote the most were the details around Oscar offering Lando his hand. It was difficult to both keep the "swept up in the moment" feeling and emphasize the tentativeness, the hesitation. I struggled a lot with figuring out how Lando would feel in that moment, especially because he'd technically already touched Oscar's hand before in Feast -- was this different enough for him to be affected? Was it similar enough to feel familiar? Was it scary, exciting, unremarkable?

Oh, and I had to google how to open a beer bottle with another bottle + your heel; I knew it was possible, I've just never had beer before lol.

Oscar and Lando's "Anxiety Attack"

Oscar's eyes flick overhead, taking in the fiery orange blossoms hanging from above. His under-eyes are more hollow than usual, the blue tint almost leaning purple in the early-morning light.

Oscar heard Lando in the kitchen.

In a different version of the scene, I actually had Oscar come out and try to help Lando, but then I realized it was far too early. Chapter 2 Lando is only beginning to peek out of his shell -- any intense display of emotion embarrasses him, he tries to talk himself out of them and pretend "it's fine" or that it's something he'll make himself "get over". Having Oscar come in at that point would have been mortifying for Lando, and waaaaaay more vulnerable than he's willing to be.

Of course I could decide that as the writer, but what was Oscar thinking about?

I have a really strong image of Oscar waking up to the sound of Lando's door closing, or maybe him falling against the oven door more forcefully than he thought (Lando's not the most reliable narrator at that point). And as Oscar jumps to go see what's happened, he hears it -- Lando's sobbing, his panic.

His hand would hover over the door handle.

At this point, based on what Oscar knows, Lando's clinically standoffish. He's clearly upset, but he doesn't want to say why -- even though he didn't deny his assertion that he wants someone to ask.

But would going and asking now be too much too soon? Too little too late? If he makes the wrong decision now, is he going to lose whatever opening Lando's worked open thus far?

He chooses not to go because he doesn't want to risk over stepping, but he can't sleep once he's heard it; Oscar gets as little sleep that night as Lando, and that's why he was awake so early. He heard him leave for his run.

There were a few specific things I cut from this chapter that I miiiiiight repurpose later, so I'll keep those to myself, just in case :)