#but if you have any more questions please contact me!

[inadaydream99]

Skz Tropes

Stray Kids ot8 x reader, very very fluffy

A/N - This proved a lot more challenging for me to write than I initially thought, but I think it’s turned out ok!

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know!

Chan

Childhood friends to lovers

Falling for your childhood best friend had not been something you’d planned. But here you are, head in your hands, as the weight of realisation bares down on you like a ton of bricks. You’d been in denial for so long that it wasn’t until innocent Chan had excitedly babbled to you about being asked out on a date by a colleague of his that your deeply repressed feelings for him came racing to the surface.

It’s been a few days and you haven’t been able to untangle your muddled feelings into something understandable or rational. Trying to convince yourself that you’ve simply mistaken how you feel about him is not easy in the slightest. You’ve even gone as far as blaming your ego, that it’s not because you’re in love with Chan, but because you simply don’t like the idea of him choosing someone over you. That you don’t want to become second best.

However, all those ways of interpreting your feelings become useless when the day of his date arrives…

You blame Jeongin for inviting you over to their place because you can never say no to your sweet Innie. It’s all his fault. It’s his fault you have to witness Chan sprinting around their place as he gets ready. It’s his fault you feel so sick with nerves that you’re unable to eat any of the snacks he’d so thoughtfully bought for you. And it’s most certainly his fault that - for lack of anyone else being around in Chan’s final moment of panic - that Jeongin had disappeared right when he’d needed last minute advice on how to style his hair.

“Just run your fingers through it - fluff it up a little.” You try to fight the overwhelming mix of nausea and nervousness that slowly raises from your stomach.

“Like this?” Oblivious Chan runs his fingers through his hair bashfully, only making more of a mess.

You guess his lacking ability to take instruction helps you settle though, finding yourself laughing at how clueless he has become.

“Please help me…” he begins to sulk, signalling for you to just take over and tidy the mess he’d created atop his head. And how can you say no?

With trepidation, you step closer to him. Fingers a little shaky as they timidly thread through the first few strands of hair with caution. You lean onto your tippy-toes to reach the hair further back. But, as silent seconds tick by, you find yourself relaxing into the task. With each wisp of hair being neatly placed, your breathing becomes pliant and your racing heart resettles.

“There…” you softly utter while giving one last examine of your work. “Perfect.”

Lowering yourself back to flat feet, you force a smile to your quiet friend. But, being your clumsy self, you wobble mid-way as you make eye contact, almost toppling over from his intense stare.

“I got you-” Chan breathes, catching your waist in his warm palms before steadying you into his chest. With your head right above his heart, the steady thump-thump and the way his hands continue to hold you so securely make you feel as though you could drift off to sleep. If only you could get the guilt of being in his arms when he’s not yours out of your head.

“I sho- you should” you break away from him, stepping back with your head hanging low. You fear meeting his eyes in case of giving yourself away. Until his finger tucks under your chin and coerces you to.

Your breath hitches in your throat from the unexpected proximity, noses almost brushing.

“We should.” Chan stares at you deeply, the corner of his mouth perking upon seeing your brows furrow and your head tilt just the slightest in confusion. So many questions spring into your mind, mouth slightly agape as you struggle to find the right one to ask first.

But it seems Chan knows exactly how to settle them all.

“There was never a colleague. There’s only ever been you baby girl.”

Minho

Best friends brother

You’ve had a crush on your best friends brother for as long as you can remember. But, when Minho left for college, you swore to yourself that you’d get over him. It broke your heart enough to know that he would no longer be there every time you visited your friend. You also knew that he’d be having the time of his life at college, meeting lots of people that are way more attractive than you… you made a promise to yourself that you’d move on from your silly little crush.

But then he returned home for the summer and your feelings came flooding back ten fold. He’d matured a lot in the time he’d been away. Your weak little heart couldn’t resist him.

Everything seemed to fall back into the way things always used to be. You’d spend your time secretly admiring Minho while you hung out with his sister, blushing any time he’d catch you staring from across the room. That caught-you-staring smirk of his had a way of simultaneously embarrassing and melting you, shyly looking away from him for barely a second before you found yourself looking back. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat from the adrenaline rush of finding him still watching you, his grin growing wider from meeting your eyes again so soon.

These small interactions repeated themselves for the rest of the week until Minho finally had enough. He’d thought it was adorable how you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of him. He gets it, he’s the mature older brother who’s off limits. It makes him desirable because you can’t just admit to his little sister how you so very clearly feel.

But what if he made the first move? It would probably make things far easier for you and he could take the blame if his sister got mad.

It felt slightly bazar for him to think of it this way. It’s not like you’d caught his interests before. Not that Minho hasn’t ever found you cute. He’s just never looked at you the way he has since he’s been back home. His time away at college had really changed you, you’d grown out of your childish charm and into an adult.

“You know, I’ve seen you almost every day since I’ve been back and yet we’ve barely talked.” You’re met with Minho’s sheepish smirk as you let his statement sink in. “Why is that?”

“Maybe because I’ve been studying for finals?” You tilt your head, raising a brow at him. “Like you were last year.” He chuckles, catching on to your teasing. It seems senior year had really bought you out of your shell.

You take a small step back when Minho moves closer, eyes narrowing onto you like he’s inspecting. “Studying. Staring. You’ve been very busy.” And finally he laughs. You scoff away the flustered feelings that begin to raise from his accusations, wishing you’d been better at disciplining yourself to keep your eyes off of Minho and on your notes instead.

“Disagree all you want pretty.” His hands find their way to your waist, making your breath hitch. “You find me just as alluring as I find you.”

Changbin

Cute neighbour

It sucks having a neighbour like Changbin because every time you encounter him, you somehow make yourself look like an idiot. He’s just too nice and handsome and cute, it melts your brain. The last thing you wanted was to develop a crush on a guy in your building but here you are. Crushing hard. And he’s your neighbour. So every time you interact with him, you’re usually in some disorganised state - running late to somewhere or returning home after a long and busy day - it’s embarrassing.

You’d just managed to lug your heavy grocery bags up five floors because the elevator happened to be out of service on the very same day your cupboards were bare. Out of breath, you placed one your of heavy bags on the floor to one-handedly fish out your keys from your pocket and begin trying to unlock your door. It’s more difficult than you anticipated it to be and after a few unsuccessful attempts at turning the key, you begin to whine like a child.

That is until you hear a voice offer their help and you freeze. Before you know it, your apartment door is swinging open and the heavy bag you’d still been holding has been taken from your hands. You watch Changbin carrying both grocery bags with ease into your apartment, before he places them down and turns to you with that smirk of his. “Are you coming in or…”

From that day onwards, things began to shift between you and Changbin in ways that left you giddy yet completely unsure of where you stood. It started with small, casual interactions—friendly waves when you passed in the hallway, his cheeky grin popping up most mornings when you stepped out of your flat. But soon, those small moments grew into something more.

He always seemed to be there when you needed him, like when the strap of your bag snapped in the middle of the stairwell, and he fixed it with a hair tie he somehow had on hand. Or when your phone fell from your hand while you were juggling too many things, and he caught it mid-air with a smug, “You really need to slow down.”

One evening, after a particularly stressful day at work, you trudged home only to find Changbin sitting on the floor of the hallway outside your door, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up when he saw you and grinned.

“Lost your key again?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he replied, standing and stretching. “Thought I’d make sure you got home safe. You’ve been looking exhausted lately.”

Your heart fluttered at his concern but you weren’t at the stage of letting him know that yet, so instead you settle for light sarcasm. “I look tired huh? Aren’t you sweet?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed, stepping aside to let you unlock your door.

One evening - a few days later - you were sitting on your living room floor, sorting through a pile of old photos and papers, when a knock at the door interrupted you. Without thinking, you called out, “Come in!” assuming it was Changbin. And of course, it was.

He stepped inside, hands in his pockets, and gave you a curious look. “What’s all this?”

“Just… a clear-out,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the mess. “Thought it was about time I sorted my life out.”

He smirked, crouching down beside you. “Good luck with that.”

Before you knew it, he was rifling through the pile, holding up embarrassing photos and making you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. Somewhere between teasing you about a particularly tragic haircut and helping you create a “keep” and “bin” pile, the atmosphere shifted.

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “I don’t really spend time like this with anyone else.”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, turning to look at you, “I like being around you. A lot.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the warmth in his eyes melting every bit of doubt you’d ever had about how he felt.

“I like being around you too,” you admitted softly.

His grin widened, and without another word, he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch was so gentle, it sent shivers down your spine. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leaned in and kissed you—a kiss so warm and soft, it left you dizzy.

Maybe having a neighbour like Changbin wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it was quickly becoming your favourite thing.

Hyunjin

Forbidden love

Why is it that you always want the one thing you can’t have? What is it that makes it so alluring? These are questions that have circled Hyunjin’s mind of as long as he can remember. Is it the thrill of sneaking around without getting caught, or the fact that it makes him feel like he’s living a double life of sorts? Maybe it’s knowing that his family would never approve. In fact, he’s pretty sure it is all off those things and more.

Being with you makes Hyunjin’s already incredibly privileged life complete. It doesn’t matter to him that you don’t come from money like he does, or that you didn’t grow up surrounded by the filthy rich and famous. It makes him like you even more. You’re different, down to Earth. You are able to show him a new perspective to life, one without all the chauvinistic, ungrateful, money-hungry crowds he’s used to.

Hyunjin wants for nothing when you are around. You fill his heart up with so much love and make him a million times happier than any of the so-called suitable matches his parents have tried to force upon him ever could.

Which is why he’s decided to run away.

When a servant of his parent’s caught Hyunjin sneaking you into their palace-like mansion, they’d instantly forbid you to go near their precious heir again. And Hyunjin was to be matched with someone of their choice, with more riches than you could ever dream of. His parents couldn’t care less about their only son’s desires for true love. In their eyes, accumulating more power is what he’s good for.

Hyunjin can’t stand the thought of being without you and so, in the early hours of the dreaded match day, he flees to you. Arriving on your doorstep with the sun barely rising in the horizon, Hyunjin doesn’t care how bitterly cold he is. The endearing confusion on your rosy face warms him up as though his heart has been set on fire.

“You’re crazy.” Hyunjin can see your frown from where you pour him a warm cup of tea near the stove. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you for a second since he arrived. And, if he’s being completely honest, he’s a little dissatisfied with your lack of excitement to see him. After all, he knows you love him just as much. You’ve told him countless times before how besotted you are with him.

“Crazy for you, my love.” He shivers under the blanket you wrapped him in. A trembling smirk trying to keep still so as to not ruin his attempts to butter you up to his idea.

But how can you agree to such a thing as running away and starting a new life? You won’t deny how there’s nothing more you want than to do exactly that with him. But not under these circumstances. Not knowing he’s left his parents without so much as a goodbye. Let alone knowing he is safe.

“Baby.” You grab his hands, leaning into him. “You know I love you more than there are stars in the sky…” his expression brightens “…but we can’t run away from our problems.” then falls, the burning flames from the fire casting his ethereal features in a honey-orange glow. Your palm raises to cup his cheek. “If we’re to be together then we have to stand up for ourselves.”

Hyunjin nods. He knows you’re right, he just wanted to push that reality so far away so neither of you would have to face it. Knowing that you are telling him to fight for what he wants makes him feel differently about it though. He knows that his parents will be furious with his desires. But he doesn’t care. He’s not afraid of them anymore. And he knows that he needs to go back to face them.

But for now he just wants to be with you, pulling you into his arms as tightly as he can, until your face is smooshed against his chest. You both cuddle in silence, only the crackling of the fire filling the space around you. And with a final kiss to the crown of your head, you both drift into sleep knowing that your love is stronger than anything this world can throw at you.

Jisung

Fated/ Literally falling for each other

To be fated with someone can seem like such a daunting thing. You’d always found the prospect of being predestined as someone’s one and only to be petrifying. But that was before you met him.

Fate was what bought Jisung into your life. How could it not have been? Never had you clicked with someone so seamlessly. It was like everything had been slowly aligning to make that one perfect meeting of two lonely, anxious lovers.

You’d chosen the wrong shoes to wear on your way to work, not realising before that the temperature outside was so cold everything had become covered in ice. The soles of your feet were smooth, providing no grip on the slippery concrete as you tried to manoeuvre along the sidewalk while dodging passers. And everything was going as uneventfully as possible, until you lost your footing and began falling backwards.

You braced yourself for the impending thud against the ground, your eyes screwed shut as though that would make the hit less painful. Except, it never came… Instead, you felt strong arms secure around you as your weight crashed into a surface that was sturdy but not solid like like the ground.

“Woah, you ok there?” A man. That’s what you’d fallen into. You’d opened your eyes just as you were helped back onto your feet, taking in your saviour. And suddenly you’d forgotten your own name.

Jisung’s eyes had shone brightly, worriedly, into yours in search of an answer. But you had been rendered speechless by him - your hero - and the genuine concern for your wellbeing, even though you didn’t know each other mere seconds before.

From that moment onwards, life had liked to cause you issues and disruptions, and fate had it that you’d end up being led back to Jisung each time.

Like that one time a few months after your initial meeting when your bus had been cancelled and so you’d ended up walking to work. It was early Spring and you’d been too distracted by the blossom emerging on the trees to notice that you were at a crossing and needed to stop. Just as you were about to step out into oncoming traffic a hand had grabbed your arm and pulled you to safety. And when you’d turned to thank your saviour, you’d been met with those familiar eyes and their warmth.

The third time fate bought you together - because apparently neither of you could take a hint that you were meant to be together - was actually when Jisung was running late for a blind date.

He’s arrived at the restaurant so late his date had apparently left. Feeling terrible and embarrassingly out of breath from all his rushing about, he’d approached the bar and ordered a drink, simultaneously elbowing the one at his side all over the counter and you.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” He’d panicked, reaching over the bar to grab some paper towels. You’d giggled, watching as he clumsily mopped your drink up, letting him know it’s ok in an attempt to settle his nerves.

“So…” you’d been speaking to Jisung for a while before it dawned on you to ask what he was doing here alone. “… are you waiting for someone?” He nervously gulped, guilt filling his expression.

“I was meant to be on a blind date, but I was running so late they obviously left…” it’s clear he’s ashamed of himself. Jisung can’t believe he’d stood someone up like that, he felt terrible. But your amused laughter made him chuckle along nonetheless - albeit mostly in confusion.

“That’s funny, I was meant to be on a blind date too.”

It’s not until you notice the way Jisung is frozen in place that it dawns on you what he must be thinking. And after verification that you were set up by the same friend, there’s no denying. You are each other’s blind date.

From that moment onwards, your relationship had flourished. I mean, it was a great joke to begin your relationship with. You’d continued your date well into the early hours, laughing and getting to know one another with ease. It was like you’d know each other for way longer than just one night - which you somehow had without realising.

And as you recounted your previous - although brief - meetings together, you realised that you were meant to be. You guess fate really doesn’t give up that easily.

Felix

College crush/ popular student x invisible student

Becoming friends with Felix happened so naturally and developing a crush on him happened just as much so. You knew from the first encounter that he was going to be a part of your life. From the way his eyes shone with glee, his smile wide and scrunching up his freckled cheeks. He was like a ray on sunshine on a miserable day; warm, inviting and a missing presence when not around.

You’d shared many classes with him over your first few years. Always sitting, going over notes and working on assignments together, which had only enabled for you to fall for him deeper and deeper. The more you got to know him, to see little quirks of his personality, the more you loved him. Yes, love. You’ll admit it to yourself because - despite never being in love with anyone before - you are sure that is what it feels like.

There’s just one huge problem… Felix is the most popular guy on your campus, he’d never see you in the same way. In fact, it’s a miracle that he even sees you as a friend.

You’d describe yourself as pretty invisible to most people. Although, it’s somewhat intentional on your part - you just prefer to keep yourself to yourself, having been burnt by past friends before. But with Felix, it was easy to let your guard down. Despite him being known by practically everyone, he never let it go to his head. His kindness and empathy extends to everyone, regardless of if they’re trying to be invisible or not.

As you sit in the quiet corner of the library, your laptop and books spread out haphazardly in front of you, you can’t help but glance up at Felix as he speaks. He’s perched across from you, his face animated as he delves into some intricate lore from a recent series he’s been obsessed with. It’s hard to focus on his words when the sight of him is so… distracting. His golden hair catches the soft overhead light, his freckles standing out like constellations, and his enthusiasm is so genuine it makes your heart ache.

Felix is, without a doubt, the most handsome guy on campus. Everywhere he goes, people try their best to grab his attention so they can greet him, stop him for a chat, or even flirt with him. It’s like he’s a magnet, drawing everyone in with his sunshine-like warmth. And yet, somehow, in the middle of all that attention, he’s chosen to spend time with you.

Being invisible has its perks—no drama, no pressure, no risk of getting hurt. But with Felix, it’s different. He sees you, really sees you, in a way that no one else ever has. And that’s what makes it so hard to keep your feelings for him in check.

“You’re quiet today,” Felix says suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. His deep, warm voice is filled with curiosity as he tilts his head to study you. “Am I boring you?”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head quickly. “No! Not at all. I just… you’re really passionate about this stuff. It’s nice to see.”

His lips curve into that signature smile of his—the one that sends your heart racing every time. “You’re just saying that to be polite,” he teases lightly, leaning forward on his elbows. “But I’ll take it.”

You chuckle softly, but the sound feels hollow. It’s hard to relax when he’s looking at you like that, his amber-brown eyes filled with warmth. It’s moments like these that make it impossible to forget how out of place you feel next to him. You’re the shy, quiet one who fades into the background, while he’s the golden boy who lights up every room he walks into. What could he possibly see in you?

“Seriously, though,” Felix says after a moment, his voice softer now. “You’ve been really quiet today. Is something on your mind?”

You hesitate, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your notebook. He always asks questions like this, as if he genuinely cares—and you know he does, which only makes it harder. “I’m fine,” you say eventually, forcing a small smile. “Just tired, I think.”

Felix doesn’t look convinced. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he continues to study you. “You’re always saying that,” he says, a hint of a pout on his lips. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice. You want to believe him—you do—but the idea of opening up, of admitting how you really feel, terrifies you. “I know,” you murmur, lowering your gaze. “But I promise, I’m fine.”

He sighs but doesn’t press further. Instead, he reaches out and gives your hand a gentle tap, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Alright,” he says, his smile returning. “But I’m here if you change your mind.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. But as the two of you pack up your things and leave the library together, you can’t help but feel the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

As you step outside, the cool evening air nipping at your skin, Felix glances over at you. “It’s freezing,” he says, his brow furrowing. Without hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. “Here. You need it more than I do.”

Your cheeks heat up at the gesture, and you clutch the jacket tightly around you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I did,” he replies easily, his smile as bright as ever. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you freeze?”

The word friend twists in your chest, but you force a small smile and thank him softly. He falls into step beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets as the two of you make your way across campus. The walk is quiet at first, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound, but Felix breaks the silence. “Hey,” he says suddenly, his tone almost casual, but there’s a flicker of nervousness in his expression. “Do you fancy grabbing a coffee tomorrow?”

You blink at him, startled. “Just us?”

“Yeah,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His voice lowers slightly, and his steps falter as if he’s hesitating. “We’re always doing study sessions, but… I thought it might be nice to hang out properly. No stress of assignments, just a bit of time to relax. What do you think?”

Your heart pounds, and for a moment, you’re certain he can hear it. The idea of spending time with him—just the two of you, outside of your usual routine—feels too good to be true.

“I’d like that,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the warmth spreading through you.

Felix’s smile brightens, and there’s something in his expression—relief, maybe, or something softer—that makes your breath catch. “Brilliant,” he says, his tone light again. “I’ll text you the details later, yeah?”

You nod, clutching his jacket closer as a breeze sweeps past. The scent of him—fresh and warm—lingers in the fabric, and you can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips.

As Felix walks you to your building, his voice filling the quiet night with a story about something funny that happened at soccer practice, you feel a flicker of something you haven’t let yourself believe in before: hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one who feels like this.

Seungmin

Enemies to lovers/ grumpy sunshine couple

I actually ended up posting this on its own because I got carried away…

Read here!

Jeongin

Brothers best friend

For as long as you’ve known Jeongin, he’s always been your twin brother’s friend. Until he went on vacation for the entire summer and came back different. He’d clearly had a growth spurt, his shoulders had broadened and his face had become more defined. He’d adopted a mature style and became more serious about his passions, choosing to spend extra time in the gym instead of playing video games with your brother. He’d really caught your eye. Amazed at how much he’d changed in such a short time.

Sharing the same classes as your brother and his friends had always been a nuisance for as long as you have been at school. That was until you developed a huge crush on one of them. Suddenly, you didn’t mind having your brother and his friends around, so long as Jeongin was there like he always was. It gave you the most perfect opportunities to spend time with him and get close, forming your own little friendship together right under your brother’s nose.

Soon enough, Jeongin was coming to your house to see you. The first time being a bit confusing when you answered the front door to see him when your brother was not at home. But, after some explaining about how Jeongin wanted to hang out with you instead and felt it was probably best to do it while your brother wasn’t around, you let him in. And over the years since you always continued to keep your little friendship.

The only problem is it’s your final summer before heading off to college. Your final summer before you have to say goodbye to your Jeongin. Well, not really your Jeongin. You’ve never been able to get out of the friend zone, always too afraid of his feelings not being reciprocated. But your heart wishes he was yours.

From afar, Jeongin watches as you give the iced americano you’ve made for him a stir with a contented smile on your face. The morning light that streams through the kitchen window frames your face perfectly, highlighting the light dusting of freckles across your cheeks so they glimmer like little stars. He’s never been more breath-taken by you than in this moment, and Jeongin is sure he’s breath-taken by you every time you’re around.

“Thanks.” He smiles, accepting the drink from you, his dimples deepening as you lock eyes.

You’re not sure what it is, but there seems to be something hanging in the air around you. It’s been there ever since he arrived at your family home the night before, lingering when you snuggled into him on the sofa as you watched a movie, and still clinging on this morning as you have both slowly gotten ready for the day. You just can’t put your finger on what it could be…

“So… (Y/N)…” your full attention is on Jeongin as he slowly begins. “Do you have any plans for this evening?” He looks nervous, unable to hold his gaze as he finishes his question.

Your sigh makes his heart drop. There it is, the impending rejection. But you’re finally in the clear about that thing that’s been following you since yesterday and you can’t believe it took you so long to remember. Tomorrow Jeongin goes off to college.

You close of the few steps between you and Jeongin, tucking your finger under his chin so he has no choice but to look at you before his mind begins to swirl with too many worries. You can see it in his eyes as they pour into yours.

“I know tomorrow is going to be incredibly tough for both of us, but let’s just focus on right now, okay?”

There’s a gentle smile on your lips that draws Jeongins attention, only able to softly nod in acknowledgement of your words as his mind tries not to let him stare for too long. But then what you’d actually said sinks in - you’d misunderstood his intentions. He chuckles to himself, noticing your confusion to his sudden change.

You hadn’t rejected him like he thought you were going to, because you thought he meant about leaving tomorrow.

“I was actually asking you out, like on a date…”

The light “oh” that sounds from you does, however, reignite his fear of rejection. Which you pick up on right away.

“I’d love to!” You rush out urgently, grabbing onto his forearm in earnest. Peering up at him, you notice the small, but growing, smile that spreads across his lips. And you can’t help but to reciprocate.

There’s a moment of happy silence between you before he speaks.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Right now, all I want is to be with you.”

[mmeskywalker]

|| second date update

summary: you were confused to as why ANAKIN SKYWALKER didn’t call you back. after being friends for so long, you finally got the chance to go on a date with the guy, and he completely ghosts you. what went wrong? you asked yourself. eventually, the question got to be too much to bear, so padmé helps you out…

word count: 2.6k+

a/n: this is lowercase intended. please do not be alarmed! i’ve been watching brooke and jubal tiktoks all week sooooo, here we are.

warnings: modern!ani, a little angsty, but that’s literally it.

——————————————————————————

“no, padmé, that’s exactly the problem.” you groan into your palms. “he won’t call me back!”

just your luck, you go out on a date with your best friend of 4 years and he decides he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

of-fucking-course.

“well—honey,” she sighs, her slender fingers pushing your hair out of your face. padmé pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to tell you until suddenly her head perks. “do you listen to the radio at all?” she asks.

you shake your head. “only when i’m really bored.”

“well, there’s this radio show called brooke and jubal in the morning… they do a segment where they call the people who leave their listeners confused about why they aren’t calling them back.”

“really?” you lift your head. tempting, you think before furrowing your brows. “okay, no—i am NOT having a radio show call anakin to ask about why he’s not calling me back.”

padmé laughs, opening up her macbook, “if you don’t email them, i will, y/n!”

your eyes widen as she clicks on the gmail app, her mouse edging against the button that allows her to contact brooke and jubal. you close your eyes, a hand reaching over to squeeze her arm as if giving her permission to do it despite your heart racing faster than it ever has before.

before you know it, she’s written a message and hitting send.

“what’s the worst that will happen?” padmé says. “they get hundreds of emails a day, they’re unlikely to even respond.”

“right,” you reluctantly agree.

——————————————————————————

you wake up to your phone buzzing beside you. with a groan, you roll over, your hand plopping on the device as if trying to turn off an alarm. it doesn’t turn off. your head perks up, confused until you recognize the number.

brooke and jubal.

“shit!” you shout, stumbling your phone in your hands before clicking the glowing, green button, answering their call.

“uh— hello?” you try to keep your composure, but embarrassment is rushing through your entire body. you’re on the phone with a radio show trying to get ahold of anakin.

pathetic.

“hello! this is jubal, from brooke and jubal in the morning.” a host-like voice booms from the other line. “is this y/n we’re speaking to?”

“it is!” you say, sounding just as excited despite the pit forming in your stomach.

jubal laughs, “wonderful! did we wake you?” he asks. “sorry about that, we just wanted to hear a more detailed version of what happened the other night.”

“this guy… anakin?” brooke jumps in. “you say that he was your best friend?”

“yeah!” you rub your face. “yeah—we were close for 4 years. he asks me on a date, and afterward completely ignores me.”

brooke makes a sound of sheer confusion from the other line. “huh, that’s so weird,” she exclaims. “tell me more about this date. was there anything that could have indicated this out of him?”

you scrunch your forehead, trying to recall a bad moment. “he seemed a little nervous, but that’s just anakin.” you chuckle. “we had a great time. he came over to my house and we prepared picnic foods, laughing and cooking together until he drove us to our favorite park. i thought everything was going really well.”

“there was even a moment where it looked as if he wanted to kiss me,” you continue. “we had just stopped laughing, and he started to look at me with his big, beautiful, blue eyes… it was as if the entire world momentarily stopped spinning.”

“looked as if?” jubal asks. “so he didn’t actually kiss you?”

that stings a little, but you shake your head. “no, he didn’t actually kiss me.”

“bummer!” brooke replies. “i wonder why? it sounds as if you guys had a really great night. a romantic picnic with your best friend—i don’t understand what went wrong, do you jubal?”

“no, i don’t either!”

jubal pauses for a moment, “and you’re sure nothing weird or embarrassing happened during your date?”

“i’m positive, jubal.” you are quick to reply.

“well,” he sighs. “i’m pretty confused too then. i say we call him and get to the bottom of this. before we do that though, you need to prepare for the worst. whatever he’s about to say will be broadcasted on the radio, and it might be embarrassing. are you okay with that, y/n?”

you nod your head, your tone shifting slightly. “yes, i—i just want my best friend back.”

“you seem like such a kind girl,” brooke frowns. “we’ll figure this out for you.”

“we aaarrrrreeee going to have to ask you to mute though, y/n,” jubal adds, “i know it’ll be tempting but try not to join into the conversation until we signal you in.”

you let out a quiet laugh, nodding silently. “okay, i’ll try my best!” your nervousness begins to pile into your gut as they warn you about adding anakin the the call. it’s all beginning to feel a little too real. you swallow thickly, double checking that you’re muted.

“hello?” anakin stretches, his voice groggy from sleep.

“hello, good morning!” jubal says, excitedly. “can i speak to anakin, please?”

“uh, yeah, this is him.” anakin replies, confused.

jubal smiles warmly, his voice clear on the other line, almost as if he were catching up with an old friend. “hi, how are you?” he asks.

“good— who is this?” anakin is clearly not in the mood, and you look to the side, ashamed to be contacting him this way.

“this is jubal, from brooke and jubal in the morning!” before he can finish, anakin cuts him off. “broken what?” he asks, mishearing jubal’s declaration.

some guy in the background laughs as brooke comments, “well, we are broken.” before jubal chuckles, cutting them off. “no, brooke and jubal in the morning, we host a radio show!”

“we’re calling you because we got an email about you from one of our listeners,” jubal says. “an email?” anakin replies. “yeah it’s from a girl that you went out on a date with!”

“what, i’m sorry— i don’t understand what’s going on.” anakin sighs, scratching his head.

“i know, you’re not supposed to yet, i’ll explain… okay, so i host a radio show, and we do a segment called ‘the second date update’, that’s where you go out on a date with somebody and then don’t call them after. when that happens, they email us to see if we can get you on the phone and ask what happened.”

“okay…” anakin says, his attention beginning to focus on the phone call.

jubal raises a brow. “so you went out on a date with a girl named y/n?”

you hear anakin stand from his bed and know exactly what he’s doing. whenever he gets stressed he starts to pace back and forth, and it causes you to hold you breath. “y—yes i did,” he mutters, almost as if he were embarrassed.

“you sound a little ashamed there, buddy?” jubal states. “is everything alright?”

“yeah, everything’s fine.” anakin clears his throat. “why are you asking about y/n?”

jubal doesn’t hesitate to answer. “well, she told us that you guys had a really romantic evening. you went out on a picnic, enjoyed some alone time together, and there was even a moment where she thought you would kiss her.”

“i don’t know if i want to talk about this on the radio…” anakin says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“listen, man,” jubal sighs. “i get that, i do, but y/n agreed to hearing whatever it is you have to say, no matter the outcome.”

anakin exhales sharply, and you can practically hear him running a hand through his hair. “she said that?” his voice is quieter now, more cautious, like he’s speaking directly to himself and not the hosts.

“she did,” jubal says, his tone warm, almost encouraging. “she just wants her best friend back, man. but she also doesn’t understand what happened. you’ve got to help us out here—what’s going on? why’d you ghost her?”

anakin groans, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his pacing. you know exactly what he looks like right now: hair a mess, his hand constantly fidgeting at the back of his neck, that crease forming between his brows like it does when he’s stressed.

“it’s not like i wanted to ignore her,” he finally mutters, almost defensively. “but it’s… complicated.”

brooke hums, and you can picture her leaning closer to the mic like she’s about to pull the truth out of him. “anakin, you know we’re not letting you off the hook with ‘complicated,’ right? y/n told us the date was perfect—picnic, laughs, chemistry. what could possibly have gone so wrong?”

“nothing went wrong!” he snaps, but then he sighs, his tone softening. “that’s the thing. it was perfect. it was too perfect, okay? y/n’s been my best friend for years, and suddenly, she’s there, and she looks… she looks beautiful, and she’s laughing at my dumb jokes, and we’re just… making sandwiches in her kitchen like we’ve done a hundred times before, but it doesn’t feel the same. it felt like… like I was standing on the edge of something huge.”

jubal chuckles lightly. “sounds like you’re describing a rom-com moment, dude. you’re telling me you ghosted her because it felt too right?”

anakin groans again, frustrated. “you don’t get it. if it went wrong—if i messed it up—i wouldn’t just lose a date. i’d lose her. and I can’t… i can’t lose her.”

your heart squeezes painfully at his words. it’s everything you’ve been dying to hear, but it’s also infuriating. he was scared? that’s why he disappeared without a word?

brooke clicks her tongue, her voice playful but firm. “anakin, honey, i’m gonna be honest—you sound like a massive idiot right now. instead of risking messing things up, you actually messed things up by ghosting her. she thinks you don’t care.”

“but i do care,” he blurts, almost desperate. “i care so much it freaks me out. y/n’s… she’s everything. she’s been there for me through everything. and then that night, it wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something more. i didn’t know what to do with that.”

there’s a long pause, and you realize you’re holding your breath, your hands gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles ache.

“look,” jubal says, breaking the silence. “i get that you’re scared, man. love’s messy, and yeah, maybe it’s risky. but if you don’t talk to her, you’re gonna lose her anyway. is that what you want?”

anakin’s voice is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “no. that’s not what i want.”

“so, can we bring her in?” brooke asks gently, her voice softening now. “she’s been listening this whole time. do you want to talk to her?”

your stomach flips as the words register. this is it. the moment you’ve been waiting for—and dreading.

anakin hesitates, and for a second, you’re terrified he’ll say no. but then he exhales, his voice steady despite the emotion laced in it. “yeah. yeah, let me talk to her.”

jubal gives you the signal, and your thumb hovers over the mute button. your chest feels impossibly tight, the rhythmic pounding of your heart drowning out every other sound in the room. you try to steady your breathing, but it’s no use—the nervous energy coursing through you is electric. swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally press the button, unmuting yourself.

“anakin?” your voice wavers, barely above a whisper.

there’s a beat of silence so long you’re sure he’s left the call. just as you’re about to check your phone, his voice filters through, quiet and uncertain. “y/n.”

his tone carries so much weight that your stomach twists painfully. “so…” you begin, your words shaky. “you’ve been ignoring me because you’re scared?”

he groans softly, the sound distant, like he’s pacing again. you can almost picture him: one hand tugging at his hair, the other shoved deep into his pocket. “it sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“because it is stupid,” you shoot back, though your voice lacks venom. “do you know how much i’ve been overthinking this? how many times i’ve replayed that night in my head, wondering if i did something wrong?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, almost tripping over his words in his eagerness to reassure you. “you were… perfect.” his voice dips lower, softer. “that’s the problem, y/n. everything about that night was perfect. and it terrified me.”

your breath catches, the sincerity in his words catching you off guard. “terrified you? why?”

anakin exhales heavily, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with raw vulnerability. “because i realized that night that you’re not just my best friend anymore. you’re… so much more than that. and if i mess this up, i lose you. i don’t know if i could handle losing you.”

his confession hits you like a tidal wave, a mix of emotions swelling in your chest—relief, frustration, affection. “anakin,” you say softly, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “you’ve been my best friend for four years. do you really think i’d just disappear if something went wrong?”

he hesitates, and you can hear the faint creak of floorboards as he shifts his weight. “i don’t know,” he finally admits, his voice so small it makes your heart ache. “but i couldn’t take that chance.”

“you idiot,” you mutter, shaking your head even though he can’t see you. there’s no malice in your words, only exasperated affection. “do you have any idea how much i wanted you to kiss me that night? how much i’ve been hoping you’d just talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark?”

“i wanted to,” he says, the regret heavy in his tone. “god, y/n, i wanted to kiss you so badly. but then i started overthinking, and all i could see were the ways i might screw everything up. so i panicked.”

you let out a dry laugh, the bitterness in it surprising even you. “well, congratulations. you managed to freak yourself out over nothing and made things awkward anyway.”

he laughs, a soft, breathy sound that carries a hint of his usual warmth. “yeah, i guess i did.”

silence settles over the call, thick with unspoken emotions. it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy, like both of you are trying to figure out what comes next.

finally, he breaks it. “so… where do we go from here, y/n?” his voice is tentative, like he’s afraid of the answer.

before you can respond, jubal’s voice cuts in, light and teasing. “how about i pay for your second date?”

you can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just enough for you to breathe again. “i think that’s be wonderful, jubal.”

“good,” jubal adds, clearly grinning. “because it sounds like you two could use a do-over. no pressure, though.”

anakin’s chuckle rumbles softly through the line. “i wouldn’t mind that. a do-over, i mean. but only if you’re up for it, y/n.”

your chest tightens at his words, but this time, it’s not from anxiety. it’s hope, tentative but real. “yeah,” you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i think we could use a do-over.”

the radio show hosts cheer dramatically in the background, and even brooke chimes in with a delighted laugh. “now that’s what we like to hear!”

as the call winds down, anakin’s voice softens again. “can i call you later? you know, without the whole radio audience listening in?”

you grin, the weight of the past few days finally starting to lift. “yeah, anakin. call me later.”

“i will,” he promises, and for the first time in days, you believe him.

[tklpilled]

atlantis

merry christmas, @stopiteatpopcorn ! i was your squealing santa this year! enjoy <3

—

“fight me,” says tartaglia, slamming a hand down on wriothesley’s desk, the other resting on his hip.

wriothesley cocks an eyebrow at him. “sorry?”

“fight me,” tartaglia repeats, staring straight into wriothesley’s eyes. “you’re strong, yeah? come on.”

“no,” wriothesley says simply, leaning back in his seat.

“wha—why not?!”

“you’re a prisoner here.” there’s something like a smile on wriothesley’s face. “i don’t fight prisoners.”

so, yeah, tartaglia is a prisoner. it’s really annoying; he knows he’s innocent, and he knows that damn iudex knows it too. but here he is, stuck underwater with nothing but endless tasks and shitty meals.

at least there’s the pankration ring.

he becomes something of a god to them, the group that hangs around down there. he wins every fight he’s in, no sweat. maybe some sweat, actually, because he’ll admit a few of his opponents are tough, but they’re still not enough to match a harbinger.

his whole fascination with the duke sparked the moment they met. he had just been brought to his room when he was visited by a tall, muscular man, heavily scarred but not much older than tartaglia himself. he looked strong.

“a fatui harbinger in my fortress?” wriothesley had said, wearing an irritatingly lazy smirk. “this must be my lucky day.”

tartaglia knew, at that very moment, he would not be able to rest until he kicked this guy’s ass.

the main issue is that getting the chance to fight him is harder than he’d thought. and, hey, he loves an opponent that’s hard to get! it makes the victory all the more satisfying! but wriothesley is really starting to piss him off. tartaglia thinks he wouldn’t be so annoyed if wriothesley didn’t fight him at all.

because he does fight, sort of. they spar in the pankration ring sometimes, but every time, it’s so obvious that he’s not putting in his full effort. it’s not satisfying tartaglia’s itch to fight at all!

he complains to the fortress’s nurse one time while she’s patching him up.

“your duke. why won’t he fight me?”

sigewinne’s small hands press an ice pack to his side. “why do you want to fight him so badly?”

tartaglia opens and closes his fist, staring at it. “does he not think i’m strong enough? he’s not that full of himself, is he?”

“please stop moving,” she tells him. “i know you don’t want me to, but it’s my job to tend to all the inmates.”

tartaglia doesn’t listen. “how do i fight him?”

sigewinne hands him a cup full of some…concoction. “he doesn’t fight inmates,” she says, confirming the man’s own words.

it hits tartaglia, then, that there’s an easy solution.

escape.

his golden opportunity comes just days later, when he spots a few new heads in the fortress while on his way to work. he recognises them as the knave’s (favourite) kids; he’s never met them personally, but from what he’s heard, the twins are pretty popular in fontaine. tartaglia doesn’t know who the smaller one is, but he’s sticking to the other two, so they must be close.

arlecchino isn’t particularly fond of him, but he doubts she’d just leave him here if he asked for help. she knows this nation better than he does, anyway. she’s the best chance he has at getting out of here.

but, of course, it’s too good to be true.

the eldest of the trio, lyney, scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “we don’t have any way of contacting father,” he says, as tartaglia’s shoulders slump in defeat. “we’re prisoners here too, you see.”

tartaglia is too disappointed to question why.

when the entire thing is over, when he’s slept enough to last the rest of his life and his wounds are mostly healed, he returns to fontaine. there are a few reasons; the traveler is still there, and he’d like to talk to them before they disappear into archons know where. he supposes they’re not called the traveler for nothing, but they don’t have to be so difficult to get in contact with.

the second reason is fatui duties, or more specifically, arlecchino. he has to discuss business with her—the gnosis, the prophecy, how to continue after everything. fontaine doesn’t have an archon anymore, and that might cause some problems for the tsaritsa. he eventually finds the knave by the water, looking as though she’d just lost someone important. he asks her about it. she doesn’t give him an answer.

the final reason is for his own self-indulgence. he still hasn’t battled with those champion duelists, and he’s practically bursting with excitement at the idea. natlan is the nation of war, but it seems like he has many more sparring opportunities in fontaine.

and, of course, fucking wriothesley.

he visits the duke’s office, slamming both hands on the desk similarly to how he’d done a couple weeks before.

“fight me,” tartaglia demands. his chances are infinitely better this time; he’s officially a free man, and he’d been single-handedly fighting off the primordial narwhal for the sake of their nation. the least anyone can do is give him a good battle.

wriothesley stares at him for a moment before he laughs, standing from his chair and walking around the desk. “you’re stubborn. alright, i suppose i can grant you this one thing, as thanks.”

tartaglia’s eyes widen, lighting up with excitement for all of two seconds before wriothesley’s hand meets his stomach.

he should be feeling pain. it should hurt, should make him stumble back in shock and agony.

it should not tickle like this.

tartaglia barks out a laugh, stepping backwards but being met with nowhere to go. wriothesley’s grip on him is strong, and while normally tartaglia wouldn’t have a problem breaking out, he’s not exactly in the best state to do so.

“h-hehey, wahahait!” he protests, voice almost a whine. “thihis—yohohou—!”

wriothesley grins, squeezing at his sides and stomach with experienced fingers, like he was born with the knowledge of how to tickle tartaglia to pieces. “you didn’t specify what kind of fight, comrade,” he teases. the bastard. “are you already giving up? disappointing. i expected more from you.”

tartaglia lets out embarrassing peals of laughter as wriothesley tickles up to his ribs. curse him for finding this loophole. curse him for everything, actually. and while he’s at it, curse that little melusine sigewinne, because she’s definitely the one who told wriothesley that he’s ticklish in the first place. she kept poking around his sides, okay, he couldn’t help it!

“y-yohou bastard!” tartaglia squeaks out (squeaks! he doesn’t squeak!). he tries to reach for wriothesley, but the man dodges him expertly while still not letting up on his assault.

wriothesley’s smug smile is evident in his tone. “hey, come on. it’s not every day i get this chance.”

as tartaglia’s laughter echoes in the chamber, he decides that if this doesn’t end soon, he’s going to be charged for homicide again.

[keelt9]

Paper 2

Masterlist

A/N: Merry Christmas! I hope you spend this holiday calmly and the way it makes you feel at ease.

Remember to take your time, one step at the time. ❄️

From far away I send you a big hug!🍒

The table near the small tree and the window, the messages are in his phone still he keeps mumbling all his way until the restaurant. 

Why the hell is even sweating this much?

The restaurant is a little bit crowded with people having breakfast but his eyes fly right away to the table near to the plant and the window.

His heart drops seeing in the table a man thanking the waitress, who just left a cup of coffee. One more time the endless questions flow through his mind.

Who is he? Is the table correct? Daniel was right and it’s fake after all? Did she get married?

The man lifts his eye in time to smile at Max and wave his hand, insecure Max walks to the table gripping his phone tight, in his head the worst possible scenario is developing so fast. 

The man will introduce him to his little elf fiance, probably they are already planning on having a family, living in a nice house in the town, they could even have a pet.

Is she still the same little elf of years ago?

“Oh, please, don’t put that face on Max.” The man shook his hand. “I’m not her boyfriend or husband.”

Max sighs, but still feels tension over his shoulders. 

“Sorry, sorry, diaper issue.” Max recognizes the girl, is the one his little elf is hugging, her sister; carrying a baby girl in her arms. “Omg, are you ok? You’re pale as a ghost.”

Max feels like he just saw one.

“Yes, I… I'm just…surprised.” The woman smiles tenderly following Max's eyes to the baby she had in her arms.

“Oh, please, don’t be scared.” She extends her hand with a soft smile on her face. “I’m Isabell… your little efl sister.” Max grabs her hand. “My husband Gonzalo and this baby girl is my daughter, Noah.”

“She is so beautiful, just like her.” Max's eyes stuck to the baby, his pinky cheek and shiny eyes. 

Isabell smiles tenderly at her baby and caresses her face. “My mom said I shouldn’t be disturbed that much to my sister or my baby will be so similar to her.”

Max giggles observing Noah hide her face in her mother's shoulder. “She forgot to mention, I’ll give birth to her twin.”

Max laughs, feeling lighter and relaxed. “Why don’t we sit?” Gonzalo mentions carrying their baby so they can sit.

“I’m sorry if I make things in such a weird way, but I’m afraid I won't find another idea in my mind.” Isabell mentioned. “Listen Max, let’s be honest, my sister knows who you are.”

Max shallow, and call for a waitress, is too early for a drink? With this situation, he doesn’t think so.

“She found out about you, the first year you were in Red bull, when she saw your face on the screen I believe she could faint in any seconds.” She smirks softly. “From that moment on, every time she knew a race would take place, she barely moved from the T.V.”

Gonzalo laughs probably remembering those moments. “Every clothing item you release, she will have it by the end of the month. She never said but she became your fan no.1.”

Noah looks with all her attention to him making him make a funny face putting a smile on her little face. 

“When you have that accident on the track, she really anguishes, until you appear to be dizzy but safe.” Max quivers for a second but he needs to ask.

“She never contacted me.” Those words closed his throat. “If she…”

“Max both of you move on, or at least she's been trying.” Max notices the unease expression in Isabell’s face. “She refused to come back to Benasque, she is acknowledging about the radical new world you're living, that she's felt doesn't belong there, but also she refuses to move one, you know what I mean?”

Max shakes his head, this time Gonzalo speaks. “Max isn't a secret she stops considering you just as a best friend, you can tell by the way she speaks about you.”

Noah giggles as she tries to grab Max's hand. “But she met a guy a couple of years ago, he's an enchanting person with her, and even he confessed his feelings a couple of months ago…”

“No.” It was an involuntary response, Max felt his heart squeeze.

“She refused to give him a chance until I spoke with her.” Isabell bits her lips. “Reason why she went one more time to Benasque.”

Suddenly the sunny day of Barcelona feels cold making him shiver.

“In a way to say goodbye.” Max moves in his chair, he feels nauseous. 

“However you started to search for her, she doesn't know because after Christmas she stops looking at your accounts, she cleans all that resembles you.”

“Then…the..then how do you know?” He shutters and blesses God in that moment his drink came.

“I worked for a sports magazine, you make a big show of this, it's just a simple deduction, you are looking for my sister in law.” Gonzalo giggles. “You Max Verstappen looking for someone I see every weekend is something weird.”

Isabell gives her baby’s bottle to Noah. “Maybe I sound like a crazy protective sister but Max, I love my sister, and I want the best for her, that is why I'm telling you all this… I'm sorry but if you are only looking for my sister just for bringing back a friendship, trust me she will always consider you like her most treasured friend.” 

Max opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but he's just empty. “The best for her is you keep going in separate ways, because having you in her life, I'm afraid she will be stuck one more time.”

Gonzalo perceived the conflict expression in his face and the fact his drink disappeared. “Don't worry Max, she's fine, healthy, making her dreams true, don't have to worry about her.”

Noah laughs seeing the faces her mother makes to her, this would be the last time to hear the closest sound of her laugh?

“What if I see her in the same way she saw me?” Isabell shakes her head.”What if I…”

“Max! You don't have to do this.” Max feels hopeless every second. “I didn't come here for an answer, I came to assure you she's fine, for you can be at ease.”

“No, no, no, I, me…I… I'm confused, sorry, it's just…” Max breaths slowly. “Every year, I travel with a backpack full of notebooks with importants things that happened to me to tell her, every special moment and the most random ones are noted there.”

Noah grabs his finger across the table. “I miss her like hell.” He carefully covers Noah’s ears. “Fuck, I been stupid.” 

The big eyes of the baby girl and the smile make him speak. “There must be a reason, right?” 

Isabell sees Gonzalo with conflicted eyes.

Max gets down his head. “Maybe I already know but I'm… what if I say something wrong?”

“Ok, let's do this.” Isabell leans over the table. “I won't rush anything, take your time, thinking about it carefully, when you are ready, give me a call, we can find out what to do after that.”

Max sees his empty drink taking a few breaths, what if that time is enough for her to finally leave him in the oblivion?

“Max, believe me, we have plenty of time.” It must be a thing between sisters, they look like they could actually read his mind. “She likes to take her time for important decisions.”

Max nods, unable to say another word, feeling so overwhelmed but happy and relieved. Isabell observes him unable to stop a soft smile.

“Well, it’s time to go.” She and her husband stand with their baby in his arms. “You have my number Max, call anytime when you have it all clear.”

Max stands, seeing the photo. “Do you mind if I keep with this one?” 

Isabell shakes her head. “All yours.” Noah mumbled, extending her little arms to Max. “You have a special charm Max, now I see it.”

Max grabs her little hand, shaking it, feeling shy for the compliment; the red cheeks with the top of the nose too, bring him soft memories and the concern that now, he has a lot to think about.

The summer break turns into agony, the past months he has been able to focus on the race leaving him zero time to think properly, he refuses to take a decision with the fuss of emotions of a race.

“So?” Daniel asked, sitting next to him cleaning the sweat of his forehead after a tough padel game. “You decided already?”

Max sits on the floor drinking a half of the water of his bottle. It’s the second week of the summer break and every time he tries to dig into the decision, he has a migraine after 15 minutes of thinking. 

His lack of answer made Daniel sigh. “Mate if it’s that hard, it could be a sign that maybe you see her as what it is?” 

“I don’t follow you.” Max leaned his arms over his knees.

“A dear friend of the past.” Daniel said, raising his hand waving it, Charles is walking right to them. “Just think about it with that perspective in mind.”

He can’t, Max simply can’t.

The next morning he postone all his meetings with friends and family, as he is making a small travel bag.

“It's summer?” Victoria mentions as they keep talking through the phone. “What do you expect to find there?”

Max didn’t even know but if there is a place where he always finds peace is in Benasque.

“Nothing, just a space to think.” Max sees Jimmy stretching on the window. “It will be a couple of days, don’t worry.”

“Max.” Max takes his bag standing in front of one of the trophies, next to it the photo of his little elf puts a smile on his face. “Take care, ok?”

The next morning he spent time walking around after having breakfast in the small hotel, his mind seemed to clear in every step.

“Look what the wind brings.” The old men from the clockmaker's workshop cross in his path. “Young boy, it’s early for you to come.” 

Max nods seeing him carrying bags. “Do you need an extra hand?” 

“Thank you.” He gives him two bags, as they walk to his store, talking about his life, 20 years have passed and Max feels he just met the old men who see every year.

He opened the door next to the shop, his house. “Want to come in? I have a nice limoned on the fridge.”

Max quiver for a second. “Or I have a tiramisu.” Max raises his eyes quickly. “The cute little girl mentioned it is… sorry probably it was your favorite.”

She remembers, that’s enough for Max to take a step inside of the house.

All in brown colors, a lot of photos hanging on every wall as he walks to the living room, where the old man asks him to wait a couple of seconds. 

He takes his time observing every photo, until his eyes find one that calls for his attention; it’s the Roman coliseum covered in snow.

He takes it as a memory that comes back to his mind.

“It’s almost impossible.” Max buttons the last ones from the neck part of her cape. 

The little girl rolled her eyes. “It has already passed! Why can't it happen again?” She stands taking the snow off her lap.

The night reached them and the cold is increasing, tomorrow Max must leave.

“You’re talking about snow in Rome!” She grabs his hands between her warming up before leaving. 

“Oh my God! You’re so pessimistic sometimes.” She rubs his hands, the gloves help to warm it quickly. “Ok, let’s say if it happens one more time, I swear, I’ll be there.”

Max scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Believe me, Mr. Frozen hands. I’ll make it.” She winks at him.

The old man finds Max with the photo in his hands; Max hears him unable to stop looking at the girl, well, the back of the girl.

“She made it.” His voice cracks unintentionally.

The man set the two plates on the small table. “Oh, indeed, she came back that winter with two photos, this is for me and the other one I guess it was for you…”

Max never came that winter.

“Fuck! How much I would love to be with her.” The man tilted his head. “She must look adorable.”

“I always knew, young boy.” The old man sat on his big sofa. “It’s true love what I saw in you two.”

“What?” Max turned around, unable to take his eyes from the photo.

“She said the same.” He takes a bite of the tiramisu. “She would love having you with her that day. After all she has something to reproach after all.”

That afternoon in front of the old clock downtown, the beeps of the phone seemed to last like an hour between each one. 

“Hello?” Max sighs, relieved, sitting on the closet bench.

“I love her.” Max whispers feeling the weight of his shoulders lifts. “That’s what I feel and I couldn’t say.” 

Isabell didn’t reply. “I love your sister…Please help me, don’t let her forget me.” Max panic fearing the worst. “I know it can sound stupid, we barely know each other, it has been 10 years, I changed, probably she did too. You may think I’m doing this in such a dumb way to keep myself in her life, but….” 

Max takes a deep breath. “I have been carrying a pen with a couple of notebooks for 10 years, more than one time I write about the fact I got stung by a bee! Omg, what a stupid man who isn’t in love does that? I’m frighten with the simple thought of losing her forever”

“Do you want to hear her?” Max held his breath. “We can coordinate things later, but we’re in the middle of a familiar reunion, you know? It will be so weird.” 

Max let go a breath that sounds like he’s had a hurricane inside. 

“Can I?” Isabell giggles with the fact that Max Verstappen is nervous.

“After you hear her I’ll hang out and I’ll call you later to coordinate something, ok?” Max stands excited walking around the bench, waiting. 

The sound of chattering and plates with laughs became slowly more audible, Max saw his hands, he’s trembling. 

“What are you doing?” Isabell asked. Damn it! Max is technically invisible and he feels so exposed every second.

Then the soft giggle drains the blood of his body. “Making a mojito, duh!”

She is there, she’s fucking there!

“See, ron, lemon, ice, mint and other things that dad said I will need.” Max imagines her in a beautiful summer dress. “Everything alright?”

“Well, I bet right now, yes, everything seems perfect.” Isabell sees her phone, Max is online. 

“Great, now, stop staring at me and give me a hand. I’m confused.” Isabell laughs while hanging out. 

Max looks at his phone with a smile that he’s sure will cause painful cheeks.

As he walks to his hotel, this time to write his brainstorm of ideas for meeting her one more time, he finds in one of the window displays a ornament for Christmas of a Santa Claus.

He stops in front of me with a smirk. “Give me a hand big guy, I swear that if you need it, I’ll be a good boy all these years. Just help me a little bit.”

He was caught by the reflection of a boy with a lollipop in his mouth looking at him with a weird face. 

He takes out his lollipop. “He doesn't understand.” Max narrowed his eyes. “You must send him a letter to the north pole with what you want.” 

Max giggles. “Besides, it's advice.” The kid is so confident. “Make sure to write in a pretty paper, with a pretty letter, make sure he fully understands what you want.”

“Louis!” A woman shouted a name, making the kid turn around. 

He nods. “I have to go, good luck!”

Max chuckles and screams as the kid goes with his mother. “THANKS FOR THE ADVICE!”

He focuses one more time on Santa, “Let’s make my wish come true.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag: @anilovessadbooks

[transformativeworks]

Are you getting that annoying "Buy Art from Me" spam on your AO3? Here is what to do

First - if you are a real non-spam person asking folks to commission art by commenting on their fics on AO3.. please do not do that. That is a violation of the TOS.

Second - We are working on filtering it out, and you can help! Below the cut is info on identifying the spam comments, and then how to report them in the most effective way!

So we can stop this flood of spam.

<3 Mod Remi

(Details from PAC are below the Read More)

How to identify it - 1. Comments are left by registered accounts 2. Usually, the comments are on works that have just been posted or updated 3. The comment may provide very specific compliments about the work, and if challenged, the commenter will firmly deny being a bot or scammer 4. The key identifier is that in the comment itself, or in a follow-up to any reply to the comment, the spammer will always do at least one of these two things: - Offer to create art for the work, or say that they are an artist interested in working with you - Ask if they can speak with you on another platform (they may provide their own contact details for other platforms, such as Discord, Artstation, or Instagram)

THE BEST WAY TO REPORT IT 1. Select the 'Thread' button on the comment so that you're viewing the comment's direct page 2. Scroll to the bottom and select the "Policy Questions & Abuse Reports" link 3. In the "Brief summary" field, put "spam comment" 4. In the "Description" field, put "This is a spambot" and then "The account name is [whatever account name]" – this will ensure it gets sorted correctly - Please only include 1 account in your report – if you see another, then please file a new report - Please don't re-report accounts you've already reported

What AO3 is doing about this - 1. We're implementing several measures to try and stop these spammers from making new accounts, but unfortunately, some are going to slip through our fingers 2. Fortunately, it is very easy for us to get rid of this type of spam and prevent the account from posting more – so long as it is reported to us in the correct fashion. If our auto-sorter detects the keywords in your report that will file it into our "suspected spam" folder, then it's easy for our volunteers to quickly check and handle it

[fading-event-608]

Help Falstin's family survive and escape genocide in Gaza and win hand-made Palestinian thob!

What can you win?

A Palestinian thob made by Palestinian hands, tailored for you. Thobes are traditional dresses worn in Palestine and are embroidered with tatreez patterns of various colors (usually mainly red) on black cloth - you can see the example in the poster.

Who will you help?

24 people trapped in Gaza who desperately need funds for their survival and evacuation. Falastin's family already has a lot of martyrs and they were displaced more than 20 times leaving them with very little possessions. It has been extremely hard for them to meet their basic needs, and they need all the help they can get to purchase food, water and medicine (which are incredibly expensive as there is very little aid entering Gaza) as well as shelter, fuel and clothing as it's getting cold.

Gofundme donation link

PayPal donation link

Please fill out this form after donating: https://forms.gle/1JPkqoab55bxC3iS8

More detailed info under the cut:

We accept both PayPal and Gofundme donations: 50 USD for one PayPal entry; 500 SEK for one Gofundme entry (500 SEK is around 47 USD so it's a slight discount!)

Only donations done after the raffle start (October 19th, since making this post) will count for entries. Additionally, every three weeks starting from today, one winner will be chosen and all entries for that period will be reset. The winner will be given 48 hours to respond and if they do not then we will choose another one from that time period.

Dates for raffle resets:

1) 9th of November - first winner 2) 30th of November - second winner 3) 21st of December - third winner

The winner announcement will be done on those Saturdays at 15:00 (3 PM) GMT (that's 10 AM EST).

Right now we are a little over 12k USD (counting both PayPal and Gofundme) but most of it came in the last several weeks. So we aim to get another 12k USD/126k SEK (again both PayPal and Gofundme) by the end of the first raffle round.

You can enter as many times as you want and can stack entries over time (so one 2000 SEK donation will be 4 entries, or two donations 75 USD and 25 USD will count as 2 entries). Because there will be 3 rotations, if your donations fall short of the minimum donation in the first/second rounds, you can still qualify for the next until your total exceeds the entry cost. For example, if you donated 40 USD in the first rotation you will not enter the first raffle round but can still enter second one if you donate another 10 USD. Another example: if you donated 120 USD in the first time period you can donate another 30 in the next one for one entry. You can enter second or third time even if you won previously.

After you have made the donation(s) required for at least one entry you need to fill out the form: [link]. You will be asked to provide a proof of your donation, your email address (or discord handle) and (optionally) Tumblr/Instagram username. An email address or Discord is required for contact purposes, as there is a possibility that either me of Falastin could be restricted or suspended on Tumblr, but we will contact you on your preferred platform if we can.

One thob will roughly take 3 weeks to complete so please be patient - you will be contacted by your preferred method for any questions after you won and when the shipment starts.

Shipment is covered for Europe, but if you are living outside of that region you will need to cover the shipment cost yourself.

You also need to be comfortable with sharing following info with us privately if if you win the raffle:

address and name for the shipment;

your measures or general size (S, M, L, etc) for tailoring.

You can ask any questions me here on Tumblr or send an email to fadingevent608@proton.me.

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here] Falastin's account: [link]

Donation links again:

GOFUNDME:

PAYPAL:

[help-alserr-family]

Pay attention please

Help Save My Family from the Hell of War in Gaza

I’m Hossam Al-Serr, a Palestinian living in Germany, and I urgently need your support to rescue my family from the constant danger they face. After our home was destroyed, they are now living in harsh conditions in a temporary shelter in Al-Mawasi, Khan Younis. Every small donation can make a big differenceEvery single donation even it is €5 will help us reach our goal.

To donate

If you are unable to donate, you can still help by sharing this message and the campaign link with your friends and family. Every share increases the chance of reaching more people who are willing to help.

IMPORTANT NOTICE

If you have any questions please feel free to contact me

[fedao]

🍉 Help my family 🍉

Hello, I am Fidaa and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart on behalf of my family, a family of five people trapped in the devastating situation in Gaza. We are urgently seeking evacuation to Egypt after enduring more than 282 days of displacement and hardship. I am seeking to help us urgently and provide us with the minimum requirements. I never imagined that my loved ones would be caught in the crossfire of a conflict they were not part of. My husband had only one dream – to teach and take care of our children . The idea that their innocence has been marred by the horrors of war is too heavy a burden to bear. We face the harsh reality of conflict. The trauma inflicted on my children tears at my heart, and I am haunted by fear for their safety and well-being. To give you a glimpse into their daily struggle, they wake up to a relentless battle for survival after surviving deadly nights. For more than 200 days, we have been cooking on firewood due to the scarcity of cooking gas. The entire region lacks fuel for cars, making transportation almost impossible. Basic necessities, including medicines, are scarce, even for those with the means to purchase them. Humanitarian aid has barely reached areas in Khan Yunis that have not yet reached us. But I find myself in a very embarrassing situation. I have to go back and ask for help and rescue. You are my only hope. My family is struggling with genocide. I promised myself that I would do my best to convey their suffering and save them, even if it cost me death. My beloved family is the most precious thing in my existence, and I am very sad that we are still in the Gaza Strip, where we see all kinds of death I'm ashamed to ask you to help me save our lives. It was my wise way to save my children If someone donates $5 it will make a difference for us and help us because we need more. I don't want to lose my family, you are my only hope I love you because you were the source of my trust. I love you because you are truly wonderful. You are our hope always and forever. You also helped me save my family, the most precious thing in existence. I feel so embarrassed but I have rubbed salt in my wound and I have no one to save it but you

Your generosity will directly help save my family from death and rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter the size, makes a big difference. Lend your hand and make a meaningful impact for us because we need you Donate on GoFundMe Every contribution, whether big or small, will directly help save my family's life ✓ Share this post and spread the word ⩥ Please share this campaign with your friends, family and colleagues to help us achieve our goal and evacuate my family safely . Your support means everything to me, and I am so grateful for any help you can provide during this difficult time. Your help means everything to us. For more details or questions, please contact me freely. Your kindness is a beacon of hope for our family. We thank you for your support and hope that better days will come.

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bringing another girl home || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Rafe pranking his family by saying he’s bringing another girl home 🫢

Warnings: mentions of drugs, fluff? other than that nothing!!

Word count: 877

A/n: hehehe loved this. does anyone have any dad!rafe requests??? haven’t wrote one in a hot min

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

“That’s so cruel, Rafe,” you say with a playful edge, delivering a light slap to his shoulder. He bursts into laughter, his wide grin never wavering. “It’ll be funny, you’ve got to admit,” he says, nudging you with a glint of mischief in his eye. You roll your eyes, trying to keep a straight face. “Fine, it would be pretty funny,” you concede, chuckling despite yourself.

Rafe’s plan to prank his family by claiming he’s bringing home a girl—who isn’t you, his girlfriend of four years—sounds completely bonkers. Yet, the thought of how Rafe’s family will react had you intrigued. You lean over to set your glass down, asking, “Are they all home?”

Rafe hums thoughtfully, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Rose’s number. You sit up, facing him as he tries to hide his grin, pressing the call button. After a few rings, Rose answers, “Hello?”

“Hey Rose, what’s up?” Rafe says with a casual tone. “Just got back from picking up Wheezie. Are you guys out on the water yet?” Rose asks. You exchange a nervous glance with Rafe, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re out here. Y/n’s just taking a nap right now,” Rafe replies smoothly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Rose’s tone shifts to one of concern. “She did seem tired today. Have you told her to take it easy with work? I know she’s been working hard for her boss—”

“Yeah, yeah, listen,” Rafe interrupts, “Could you do me a favor and take Y/n’s stuff out of my room?”You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. “What?” Rose’s voice is tinged with confusion. “What do you mean—“

“Well, at least the stuff lying around and the pictures,” Rafe continues, muting himself briefly as he suppresses his laughter. Rose’s confusion turns to frustration. “Rafe, what are you talking about? Take Y/n’s things out of your room and get rid of the pictures—what’s going on?”

You hear rustling in the background and a faint voice that you recognize as Wheezie’s. “What happened?” Wheezie’s voice is concerned. “Your brother is acting very strange right now,” Rose responds, her voice growing more exasperated.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Rose’s tone is incredulous. “I’m bringing a girl over,” Rafe says nonchalantly, and you struggle to keep a straight face. There a brief pause on the other line.

“What girl? I hope this girl is Y/n, your girlfriend, Rafe!” Rose speaks up, her voice now angry. You hear Sarah’s voice join the conversation. “What is going on?”

“Your sisters are here. Tell them what you just told me to do,” Rose says, her frustration evident. You and Rafe exchange worried glances, realizing the prank is escalating.

“Uh, I want all of Y/n’s things out of my room and the pictures as well,” Rafe repeats. The silence on the other end is thick with disbelief. You quickly take Rafe’s phone and mute it, both of you breaking into laughter.

“What the hell, Rafe? Who is this girl? Do I know her? Why are you bringing her home? Are you out of your mind?” Sarah’s barrage of questions makes it hard for you to keep a straight face.

“This has to be a joke, right? Y/n’s right beside you, isn’t she?” Wheezie’s voice is tinged with suspicion.“She’s not, she’s asleep,” Rafe replies. You hear a flurry of voices in the background as Rose, Wheezie, and Sarah talk urgently.

Then Wheezie’s voice rises, “Dad! Come here and tell your son he’s an absolute idiot and loser for cheating on Y/n.” Your eyes widen at the mention of Ward. “What?” His voice is loud and filled with anger as he joins the call.

“Rafe, please tell me your sister is just joking and you’re not about to fuck up your life,” Ward’s stern voice cuts through. You grab the phone again, muting it. “This is going too far, Rafe,” you say, worry creeping into your voice. Rafe snatches the phone back, a mischievous grin on his face.

“What do you mean? It’s just getting started,” he says, unmuting the phone. “No, they’re not, Dad. I’m being serious. Can you guys just do this for me? She’ll be over for dinner too,” Rafe continues, as Rose gasps in the background.

“No way in hell am I letting—” Rose begins, but Ward cuts her off. “Son, you better think long and hard about this because you will not be welcomed home, alright? I don’t know what drugs you are on right now and I couldn’t give two shits about it, but you are not bringing another girl over here other than Y/n, you’re girlfriend, for heaven’s sake! Do you understand?” Ward’s voice is stern and unwavering.

You and Rafe are taken aback slightly by the intensity of the reactions on the other end of the line. Realising the prank might have gone too far, you quickly grab the phone.

“Uh—” you cut Rafe off, your voice steadying as you say, “Guys, he’s just kidding! I’m right here beside him!” The relief is palpable as you hear them all collectively sigh on the other end.

After a few more minutes of the Camerons giving you both a hard time about how the joke was way out of line, you finally hang up the phone. Rafe pulls you close, guiding you to lean against his chest. His arms envelop you in a warm, reassuring hug.

“My family just loves you, don’t they?” he says with a smirk, his voice full of playful sarcasm. You look up at him, laughing softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the love from his family. Even with all the chaos, you can’t help but feel good knowing they care so much about you.

[sturniqlo]

shy!matt & shy!reader au

⛧°。 ⋆༺get to know shy!reader and shy!matt༻⋆。 °⛧

both sfw and nsfw

shy!reader and shy!matt are so fall coded

shy!reader and shy!matt who were each others first for everything and i mean everything

shy!reader and shy!matt who always blush after every kiss, whether it be a peck or a make out session

shy!matt who was so so shy (duhh) to go up to shy!reader when he first laid eyes on her, and once he did he was a mess, stumbling over his words, avoiding eye contact and red as a tomato. she found this cute and was also red as a tomato because she had never gotten that attention from a boy before

shy!reader who always gets into her head about not being good enough for him and shy!matt who always reassures her that's she's everything and more to him.

shy!reader and shy!matt who are lowkey 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼

shy!matt who is always scared that he's going to rough for her during sex even though he's going the perfect pace, having her a moaning and whimpering mess under him.

shy!reader who always covers her face whenever he eats her out while making eye contact with her and shy!matt who slides his hands up her body to remove her hands from her face so he can see how her eyes roll back and how her jaw slacks

shy!reader and shy!matt who always love to go downtown to walk around while sharing headphones (they have the same music taste) and have a picnic in the park. they like to watch the ducks (especially the baby ones) swim around the pond. shy!matt loves to point at the the duck couple and say "look, pretty. that's us."

shy!reader and shy!matt who hate parties. since they're in college, they get invited by their friends to parties here and there. obviously they go together and they're always awkwardly standing in by the door people watching. his arm around her shoulders rubbing it with his thumb. usually after thirty minutes after 'socializing' they go back to his dorm to watch movies. later, he drives her home.

shy!matt who always waits for her outside of the lecture halls, usually he'll have a iced coffee for her and a vanilla scone or a chocolate croissant. when her class ends, she comes out a huge smile on her face knowing matt was a couple of steps outside of the hall and gives his a kiss on the cheek when she reaches him. his face cherry red at the small action of pda.

shy!reader and shy!matt who always hang out in his dorm because she still lives with her parents (she's less than 20 minutes away from campus, and his roommate is almost never there) and he's not ready to meet her parents, not because he doesn't want to, but because he's afraid that they might not like him (even though he's a copy of her) and because he's shy.

shy!reader and shy!matt who say 'i love you' very early in their relationship because they know they've met their match and are locked in for the rest of their lives.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

an: can't wait to write for this au!! also, i've never seen anyone write this au before but if someone has written it please don't send any negativity to me because as i said.. i've never read anything like this!! anyways, send me any ideas or questions you have about out shy couple :)) [divider creds to saradika-graphics]

masterlist | join my taglist

[starryhyuck]

pairing: slytherin!jaemin x afab!ravenclaw!reader

words: 10.3k+

summary: na jaemin has asked you out every year since you came to hogwarts. maybe this is the year you’ll say yes.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: reader is shy, slight corruption kink, penetrative sex, loss of virginity, voyeurism, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex, squirting, creampies, messy sex

You’re in your first year at Hogwarts when Na Jaemin asks you out for the first time.

The both of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard and his ears are blooming red, either from the cold or pure embarrassment. He’s holding a chocolate frog, outstretching his hand to you.

“I think you’re pretty.”

You try to ignore the fact that your friends are squealing behind you. Your eyes are only focused on Jaemin, who’s wearing his signature smile. His best friends, Jeno and Donghyuck, are snickering behind him.

You know you want to tell the Slytherin that he’s pretty too, or at least thank him for the gift, but somehow your brain completely short circuits.

Your eleven-year-old self runs away from the group and back into the Hogwarts castle, breaking Na Jaemin’s heart for the first time.

—

You’re in your second year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the second time.

Your rejection of Jaemin the previous year spread around school like wildfire. Many of your friends asked you why you turned him down, especially when he was one of the most desired boys in your year. You didn’t know how to explain that he made you extremely nervous and his declaration of affection caused you to hate the attention you started receiving.

“Jaemin’s looking at you,” Doyeon giggles in your ear.

Your eyes wander up from your Potions book to see that, indeed, Jaemin is sitting at one of the library tables across the room, focus directed at you. You swallow and return your gaze to your textbook.

“Don’t you want to ask him why he’s staring at you?” Doyeon whines at your lack of enthusiasm. “He clearly still likes you!”

The librarian shushes your table and Doyeon sticks her tongue out when they’re not looking.

You sigh. “I just want to finish my Potions essay, Doyeon.”

You can practically see her roll her eyes in response. Jaemin has tried talking to you since the incident, jumping at any chance to partner with you during your classes together. You’ve only offered him rapid blinks and slow nods in return.

You groan when Doyeon suddenly elbows your side.

“Go and get me the book we need for Charms, please.”

“What? Why can’t you get it?” You frown, eyebrows furrowed.

She sighs as if you’re the one causing a problem. She gives you one of her signature looks and you grumble, pulling yourself away from the table. When you finally find the aisle you’re looking for, you nearly gasp when you see Jaemin there too.

Oh Doyeon, you sneaky witch.

He says your name like you’ve just caught the Golden Snitch. “Nice to see you!”

You smile awkwardly, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Hi, Nana.”

He beams when you call him by his nickname. You falter at his clear enthusiasm. You wish you were just slightly more brave to carry a conversation with him, but you resort to clumsily searching for Doyeon’s book. You sigh when you realize it’s on the top shelf.

Before you can attempt to grab it, you feel Jaemin’s chest press against your back as he easily takes it for you. You yelp at the proximity, ignoring his cheerful smile as he hands the book over to you.

“Looking for this?”

You try your best to steady your voice. “Um, yes?”

He chuckles. “You don’t sound so sure about it.”

Despite the book being safely in your hands, he shows no signs of stepping away from you. You avoid any eye contact you could possibly make with him.

“I should get back to my table,” you whisper softly. “Doyeon probably wants to get started on her Charms homework.”

“Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

You blink at Jaemin’s question. He’s still smiling happily, fully expecting you to say yes.

“Um, I have a lot of work to get done tonight. Potions essay and all of that.”

“Oh,” he murmurs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck and taking a step away from you. “That’s okay. Some other night then?”

“Okay!” You squeak, taking your chance and scurrying away from him. Your abrupt departure prevents you from seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.

When you return to your table, Doyeon is smirking mischievously.

“You sure took a long time getting that book.”

“I hate you.”

—

You’re in your third year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the third time.

“Dude, she’s not going out with you. It’s starting to look super desperate.”

Jeno has to physically prevent Jaemin from lunging across the Great Hall table and attacking Donghyuck.

“Hyuck,” Renjun scolds from his spot next to Jeno. “You know Jaemin’s sensitive about it.”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is that everyone knows you like her, and if she liked you, then moves would have already been made.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jaemin hisses. “She’s just shy, that’s all. She doesn’t like the attention.”

Jeno glares at Donghyuck as a signal for him to shut up. Renjun even shoves a spoonful of chicken into Donghyuck’s mouth to make sure of it.

Jaemin’s focus returns to you as you’re giggling into your hand at something Yoo Jimin says. He fondly smiles at the sight of you looking so happy from across the Great Hall. He wishes you would look that happy whenever you see him too.

His attempts at getting you to agree to a date has been less than successful to say the least. Donghyuck was right — everyone in the Wizarding World knew of Jaemin’s crush at this point, but you still showed no signs of returning his affections.

“I’m not saying Donghyuck’s right or anything,” Renjun timidly brings up, earning a warning look from Jeno. “But maybe you should try crushing on someone else. Who knows? Maybe she’ll get jealous.”

Jaemin scoffs at the idea. As if he could like anyone else but you. It sounded unbelievably pathetic, but you were all he thought about. He wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone.

Even if it made him the running joke to the rest of the houses, he didn’t care. He only desired you.

His blood boils when he sees Shotaro approach your table, cheeks red as he asks to sit down next to you.

“What the hell is he doing?” Jaemin hisses.

Jeno coughs awkwardly. “I heard from Sungchan that Shotaro has a little crush.”

“What?” Jaemin practically yells, causing the rest of his house to shush him.

“Alright, let’s be calm about this,” Jeno says, knowing how irritated his best friend could get. “Jaemin-“

Jeno’s protests are ignored as Jaemin makes his way over to your table. Jeno runs a hand down his face, praying that Jaemin doesn’t make a complete fool out of himself.

You nearly jump out of your seat when you hear your name being called. You glance behind you to see Jaemin.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, not expecting his presence. You fail to notice Shotaro’s shoulders slump in defeat at the sight of the Slytherin. “Hi Nana.”

You pay no attention to Doyeon and Jimin’s raised eyebrows from their positions across from you. Jaemin forces his hands between you and Shotaro, creating enough distance for him to sit in the middle.

“What are we talking about over here?”

Doyeon and Jimin exchange a look before Doyeon speaks up. “Shotaro over here was just talking about going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Oh? I didn’t even know Hufflepuffs went outside,” Jaemin hums. Doyeon and Jimin cover up their laughs with a cough.

“Hogsmeade trips are for all students,” you mention quietly.

Jaemin smiles at you. “That’s right! I was actually thinking about going to Madam Puddifoot’s, want to join?”

Every student knows that Madam Puddifoot’s is where all the couples go on dates. Since this is the first year you’re allowed to take weekend Hogsmeade trips, you haven’t gotten a chance to see it for yourself. However, the thought of going with Jaemin seemed way too nerve wracking.

“She would love to!” Jimin interjects, shooting you a look.

“Actually, I was going to ask her if she wanted to go with me,” Shotaro says, glaring at Jaemin.

The two boys suddenly engage in a heated staring contest, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Doyeon and Jimin, on the other hand, are thoroughly enjoying watching the current scene unfold.

“Maybe we can all go!” You say in an attempt to ease the tension.

Doyeon’s head hits the table in reaction to your stupidity. Jaemin and Shotaro turn to you with confused looks on their faces. Jimin decides to help you out.

“Actually, I just remembered we promised Minjeong we would meet her at Honeydukes to grab some sweets. Sorry boys, maybe next time.”

You squeak when Doyeon suddenly grabs your arm, and before you know it, you’re being pulled away from the table.

Once you’re out of sight, Jaemin turns to scowl at the Hufflepuff.

“Don’t even think about it. Everyone knows I like her.”

Shotaro scoffs. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean she likes you.”

“Watch it, Hufflepuff.”

“Game on, Slytherin.”

A few minutes of intense glaring occurs until Jeno and Sungchan both rush over to the table, pulling the two boys apart.

—

You’re in your fourth year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the fourth time.

The only difference this year is that you already have a boyfriend. You’ve been dating Shotaro for a couple of months, and everything seems to be going well.

The only bump in the road so far was your friends.

“Listen, I’m just saying that Shotaro is really sweet and nice, but you clearly took the easy way out,” Doyeon complains. “I know that deep down, you like Jaemin more.”

“Doyeon, I really don’t want to hear this again,” you sigh, trying your best to focus on your History of Magic homework.

Doyeon and Jimin brought Jaemin up at least once a week. Ever since you started dating Shotaro, Jaemin took a hint and spent less and less time trying to get your attention. You still noticed his lingering stares here and there, but Shotaro would always try to initiate skinship with you just to remind Jaemin who you were dating.

“What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, plopping down on the couch in the Ravenclaw common room.

“How Jaemin is better than Shotaro,” Doyeon responds.

You frown. “You know, Slytherins aren’t even allowed in here.”

The two Slytherins ignore your protests. “Oh, Jaemin is so much better,” Jimin echoes. “I think she just likes Shotaro because he’s quiet and shy like her. But Jaemin would show her a much better time.”

“Jimin!” You hiss, growing embarrassed by the second. “Can we not talk about this please? I’m dating Shotaro and I really like him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You try not to let their words get to you since you know Doyeon and Jimin love to tease you. The thought of Jaemin still lingers in your mind, however, and Shotaro starts to notice you distancing yourself a week later.

“Are you okay?” He asks apprehensively, almost afraid of hearing the answer. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine!” You try to assure him, ignoring the worried look in his eyes. “I’m just stressed with homework, that’s all.”

He smiles and you can’t help but compare it to Jaemin. Jaemin’s smile is a little brighter and more captivating, always causing your brain to malfunction whenever he grins at you.

“You don’t need to worry. You’re the smartest girl in our year,” Shotaro assures.

You laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

A few moments pass while the two of you are walking down the hallway before Shotaro clears his throat. He seems even more anxious than you.

“Did you hear about the dance they’re hosting this year?”

“Oh,” you hum, thinking about it. You remember Doyeon excitedly chattering the details to you, talking animatedly about what kind of dress she plans on wearing and how she’s going to style her hair. Jimin was equally excited, attempting to also raise your enthusiasm about the event. “Doyeon and Jimin have been mentioning it to me.”

He beams. “Good! I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

You sheepishly stutter. You were honestly planning on skipping the dance in favor of getting a good night’s sleep. Although knowing Doyeon and Jimin, they would never let you ditch.

“S-Sure. That sounds nice.”

Shotaro’s smile extends tenfold, and he leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. You bashfully stare at your feet, avoiding his gaze.

When you relay the information to the two girls later, they’re so excited you agreed to go to the dance that they don’t even mention Jaemin. They eagerly discuss shopping plans and hair and makeup expectations, all while you panic on the inside.

They help you pick out a gorgeous blue gown that hugs your figure, which initially makes you nervous but with a lot of assurances from Doyeon and Jimin, you grow confident in your appearance. The girls do your hair and makeup for you, giggling about how cute you’re going to look.

“If only it was for Jaemin,” Jimin hums while applying your eyeshadow.

“Hey,” you protest softly. “You said you were happy that Shotaro asked me.”

“I am!” She argues. “It’s just that I know Jaemin really likes this color on you.”

“Is that why you picked this out for me?”

When the both of them fail to answer your question, you huff. Your curiosity gets the best of you, however.

“Is Jaemin going with anyone?”

You miss the look Doyeon and Jimin exchange over your head. “I heard he asked out Yizhuo,” Jimin answers.

“Oh,” you mumble. Yizhuo was a Slytherin girl in the same classes as both you and Jaemin, so it would make sense that he asked her. You remember her being very pretty and sweet whenever you got paired for projects together.

Doyeon smiles, sensing your disappointment even though you would never admit it. She presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Just have a good time tonight, my little flower.”

“You know I’m the same age as the both of you. You don’t have to keep acting like my moms.”

You giggle when they suddenly shower you in kisses as a response.

Shotaro perks up when you finally meet him outside of the Great Hall. He’s wearing a blue tie to match your dress, and he kisses the back of your hand in greeting.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, feeling bashful by the attention.

Some of the other houses are stopping to look at you two, murmuring to each other and making you even more nervous. Your breath catches in your throat when you meet Jaemin’s eyes across the room. He’s smiling fondly at you, his emerald green tie matching Yizhuo’s dress.

Your heart sinks a little at the sight of them looking like a perfect pair standing next to one another. Shotaro nudges you out of your trance.

“Ready to go in?”

You nod, mustering your best smile. “Born ready.”

The night, by all means, was a picture perfect fairytale. Shotaro was a perfect gentleman as he led you on the dance floor, with you feeling slightly inferior to his incredible dance skills. You exchanged a few fun twirls with Doyeon and Jimin, giggling to one another in the midst of all the sparkle and flair. Your eyes only strayed a few times to catch the sight of a certain Slytherin boy dancing with his date.

It forces you to excuse yourself to catch your breath. Shotaro offers to go with you but you insist on him staying inside and enjoying himself.

Jaemin later finds you in the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the stars.

He clears his throat to make you aware of his presence, causing you to jump at the sound.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a chuckle, taking the spot next to you. “I didn’t know I would catch you out here.”

“I just needed a breather,” you murmur, ignoring the fact that his arm is nearly pressed against yours. “It was getting a little stuffy in there.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t want to escort you out?”

If you notice an implication in Jaemin’s tone, you make no show of it.

“No, I told him to stay. He’s a great dancer, I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” he says under his breath, almost with a hint of jealousy.

You two linger in silence for a bit before he breaks it.

“It would be wildly inappropriate for me to ask you out at this moment, right?”

You blink at him, startled by the sudden question.

“I thought you came with Yizhuo?”

“Yizhuo and I are just friends,” he brushes off. “She didn’t have a date and the girl I wanted had a date of her own already.”

He eyes you carefully and you flush in embarrassment, staring down at your hands.

“Jaemin, you know Shotaro is my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Nana,” you whisper, hoping the nickname will convey exactly what you want to say. To tell him that despite your conflicting feelings, you’re still dating Shotaro and don’t want to hurt him in any way.

He nods in understanding before preparing to take his leave. “Before I go, I just wanted you to know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You took my breath away when I saw you. Shotaro’s a lucky guy and I hope he knows it.”

You watch pitifully as Jaemin heads back to the dance, ignoring the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

—

You’re in your fifth year when Na Jaemin’s attempts start to falter for the first time.

You and Shotaro ended your relationship on good terms over the summer, agreeing that the both of you were better off as friends after holding hands started feeling too awkward. When Doyeon and Jimin found out about the amicable breakup, they were quick to get you back on your feet once you voiced your insecurities.

“Maybe it was me? Am I not pretty enough to kiss?”

They both frown, looking more disappointed than you’ve ever seen them.

“You are the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, so I have no idea where this is coming from,” Doyeon shakes her head, combing her fingers through your hair.

You’re sprawled on the floor of their shared bedroom after Jimin found a way to sneak you into the Slytherin dorms.

“You said it yourself that Shotaro and you broke up because it was too awkward. He never told you that you weren’t pretty enough to kiss,” Jimin reminds you.

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “But we just never did what normal couples do, you know? It made me start to think that it was because of me.”

“It could never be because of you,” Doyeon chides. “Besides, if you want to get kissed that bad, I know someone who would be first in line for that chance.”

It rattles you when you automatically know who she’s referring to.

“I heard he got a girlfriend over the summer,” you say quietly.

Jimin scoffs. “You heard wrong. I told you to only get gossip from me, I’m a reliable source. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about said girlfriend.”

The three of you are thoroughly surprised when you catch Jaemin the next day, hand in hand with Hyojung, a fellow Ravenclaw girl.

Jimin curses under her breath and Doyeon scolds her for not being the first one to know this new information. As the couple walk down the hallway, Jaemin’s eyes lock with yours. You both still, almost as if time has stopped in its tracks.

He’s the first one to break it, with Hyojung tugging on his arm and questioning why he suddenly stopped in the middle of the crowd. Your eyes well with tears before you stray from Doyeon and Jimin, finding an empty classroom to wallow your sorrows in.

Why were you so sad? It’s not like you had anything romantic in line for you and Jaemin. After all, you were the one who’s been rejecting him since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts.

You decide to ignore your muddled feelings for most of the first half of the year. Jaemin and Hyojung seem to be going strong and despite Jimin’s endless apologies, you insist that you’re happy for the couple and wish them all the best.

You get paired with Jeno for a Charms project as the winter season approaches. Jeno proves to be a diligent partner, equally dividing work and quietly finishing your portions of the project in the library together.

The question itches at the back of your mind one night, and you can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Jeno, how did Jaemin and Hyojung get together?”

He’s surprised by the inquiry, head tilted in confusion. “Well, their parents are friends and they used to be close when they were younger. They decided to give the relationship a try over the summer to see if it fits.”

You nod and thank him for answering. An hour passes in silence before he bites back.

“Why do you ask?”

You chew on the end of your pencil nervously. “I was curious. They just seemed to get together out of the blue.”

He studies your expression carefully. “You broke up with Shotaro over the summer, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply awkwardly. “We decided it wasn’t a good fit for us.”

He hums in understanding.

The two of you finish your homework session without any more probing questions, and Jeno is fast to locate his Slytherin best friend afterwards.

Jaemin is startled when Jeno almost runs him over outside of the Slytherin dorms.

“What’s up with you?”

Jeno huffs, out of breath from rushing all around Hogwarts in search of him.

“Things with you and Hyojung — they’re not serious, right?”

Jaemin shrugs. “She’s pretty and nice. It’s not a bad relationship.”

“But it’s not a really good one either?”

“I mean, I guess so. Why are you asking?”

“A certain Ravenclaw girl just asked me about you,” Jeno divulges. “She asked me about you, Jaemin. You were far from any topic of conversation and she was the one to bring you up first.”

Jaemin freezes at the revelation. He spent the whole summer trying to forget about you, accepting that you were happy with Shotaro and perhaps Donghyuck was right, he was starting to look pathetic chasing after you. Hyojung’s family came to visit one day in August and after seeing how heartbroken he was, she suggested they begin a relationship to try and get him to move on. He agreed, mainly because his parents always loved Hyojung and he needed to get his mind off of you.

As twisted as it sounds though, Hyojung could never compare to you.

He doesn’t understand why you’ve enraptured him like this, it was just supposed to be a silly crush. He never expected to see flickers of you when he would kiss his girlfriend or think of your laugh when he’s holding someone else’s hand.

He shakes his head from the thought.

“Jeno, I can’t. You know I spent so much time getting over her.”

His friend rolls his eyes. “And how did that work out? You still look like a love struck puppy whenever she walks by and Hyojung is still convinced she can get you to love her. Wake up, dude.”

Jaemin presses the palm of his hands to his eyes, desperately trying to erase the fantasies floating through his head.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I thought I already spelled it out for you. Free Hyojung from her misery and get your girl.”

When Jaemin approaches Hyojung the next day, his heart sinks in his chest as he registers the devastated look on her face.

“What? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assures her. “I just don’t think this is working out. I haven’t been feeling any sparks.”

Her eyes well with tears and Jaemin starts to feel guilty.

“Is this about her? Are you seriously still not over her? We’ve been together for nearly five months, Jaemin!” Her sadness quickly shifts to unadulterated rage, glaring at him and hoping he’ll sink into the ground. “How could you lead me on this whole time?”

“I wasn’t trying to, Hyojung, I swear,” he promises, but they’re clearly empty to the girl in front of him.

“Go fuck yourself, Na Jaemin.”

You find Hyojung crying in the Ravenclaw common room that day. You pause when you see her crumbling on the couch with her best friend, Soeun, comforting her. They scowl when you come into their view.

“There she is, the homewrecker herself,” Soeun sneers at you.

You have no idea why the two girls are suddenly bashing on you. You hold your arms closer to your chest defensively.

“W-What?”

Hyojung stands and approaches you until she’s inches from your face.

“I don’t know why he finds you so special. You’ve never once given him the time of day yet he’ll bend over backwards to have you,” she hisses, expecting the words to sting for you.

You blink. “Who are you talking about?”

She laughs and it’s one of those hollow, maniacal laughs that sends shivers down your spine.

Soeun joins in, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at you condescendingly. “We’re not falling for your little innocent schoolgirl act. You know Jaemin and Hyojung’s parents were already planning their wedding, right? How sick of you to insert yourself into a relationship and break it apart.”

The two girls continue to berate and belittle you until the whole of Ravenclaw is convinced you’re a nasty homewrecker. You leave the common room in tears, finding solace in one of the nearby alcoves.

That’s how Jaemin finds you — sobbing into your hands and feeling the most low you’ve ever felt in your entire Hogwarts stay.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He tries to pry your hands away from your eyes to talk to you, but you pull away from him like you’ve just been burned.

“Get away from me!” You demand, turning away from him and sniffling softly to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice filled with distress. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know why you’re crying, and if I can help at all.”

You spin back around to face him. Jaemin’s heart cracks at the sight of you looking so defeated.

“Why would you break up with Hyojung because of me?” You question in a small voice, trying to stop your tears.

He stutters. “I-I didn’t break up with her because of that. The relationship never felt right.”

“Well, that’s not what she’s saying. I don’t understand why you’re so intent on ruining my life, Nana.”

“What? I would never ruin your life!”

“But you have!” You cry, not caring how unattractive you are at this moment. “You give me all this attention that I never asked for as soon as I get to Hogwarts, and suddenly everyone is referring to me as the girl who rejected Na Jaemin. Then I get a boyfriend and you’re lurking around every corner, praying for me to break up with him. And then you get a girlfriend, crush her heart, and now she’s accusing me of being a homewrecker!”

Realization washes over his features and he takes a step back from you.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, this is all my fault. I’ll clear up whatever Hyojung started and I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry.”

You watch him disappear around the corner, throwing you one last sorrowful glance.

After you relay the day’s events while crying in Doyeon and Jimin’s arms, you wonder if you would ever speak to Jaemin again.

—

You’re in your sixth year when you haven’t spoken to Na Jaemin since the start of the term.

Hyojung approaches you when you return from the summer break, guilt-ridden by her behavior.

“I’m so sorry for saying all of those things about you. It was really immature of me to start those rumors, especially knowing that it was Jaemin’s fault, not yours. I was just angry and looking for someone to blame. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile shyly and nod. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry again for what you had to go through.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to say that to me. I’m going to clear up all those nasty things people are saying about the situation so please, let’s just try to move past it.”

The first few months of the term pass by quickly, with all of the rumors about you being squashed by both Hyojung and Jaemin. Soon enough, people are finding new gossip to discuss and your incident fades into the background.

You try to accept that you’ll never speak to Jaemin again. He’s completely turned into a ghost of the person you once knew. He no longer smiles whenever people call his name in the hallway or jokes around with Jeno and Donghyuck in the Great Hall.

He becomes a true, stereotypical Slytherin — emotionless and disinterested.

It concerns you, honestly. However, your friends have ruled it to be none of your business.

“But he’s just so lifeless! I just want to make sure he’s doing okay.”

Doyeon waves a finger at you like a mother scolding her disobedient toddler. “He should be the furthest thing from your mind. You need to be focused more on your studies and less on boys.”

You really start to feel like a rebellious teenager when Jimin places her hands on your shoulders and pushes you down to sit on the edge of her bed.

“One day, you’re going to grow up and realize we are just trying to do what’s best for you,” she clicks her tongue.

You frown. “It wasn’t even a year ago when you two were encouraging me to come out of my shell and date Jaemin!”

“Yes, and that was before he made you cry and got the whole school to believe you were trying to break relationships left and right,” Doyeon says, arms flailing about. “We don’t trust him like we used to.”

“Turns out he really was just a man,” Jimin sighs, shaking her head.

Despite their disapproval, you search for Jaemin that night to try and open a civil conversation with him. You want him to know that you don’t blame him for what occurred the previous year and it would be best for you both to try and move on.

You’re about to turn the corner to the Slytherin dorms when you hear a sharp gasp.

You shield yourself behind a pillar, eyes peeking out to identify the cause of the sound. You nearly choke when you see Jaemin has Lee Seojeong pressed up against the wall, his fingers hidden underneath her skirt.

Jaemin hisses lowly. “Keep quiet. You said you would.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers in apology. Her sorrows soon turn into cries of lust, gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly.

You’re frozen in your spot, unsure of what to do. Your heart is thumping wildly in your ears and you’re ashamed to admit the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You can see Seojeong is finding it harder and harder to muffle her cries and just before she reaches her high, Jaemin’s eyes suddenly flicker over to zero in on you.

Surprise fills his features as much as it does yours, and you both ignore that Seojeong has already tipped over the edge. Jaemin withdraws his fingers from her, still staring intensely at you.

Mortified by getting caught, you quickly turn and run back to Doyeon and Jimin’s room, praying the world will swallow you whole.

Much to your chagrin, the world is not on your side.

The next day, your Charms professor announces a class project, sharing that he’s already paired up the class. And, of course, you find yourself with the Slytherin boy you’re trying your best to avoid. You’re incredibly embarrassed when Jaemin approaches your desk.

“Um,” you say bashfully, trying your best to not look at him. The burn of his stare from the previous night is still ingrained in the back of your mind. “I think we should divide the work evenly. I can start researching the history while you can look into the process of casting the charm.”

Jaemin, on the other hand, is enjoying watching you squirm. Ever since last year’s incident, he’s built up a few walls to shield himself from the lingering stories in the Hogwarts castle. He blames himself for causing you so much heartbreak and promised at the start of sixth year that he wouldn’t let people in as easily as he used to. He really only talks to Jeno and Donghyuck now, ignoring the rest of his classmates who are probably only using him as fodder to feed the lurking gossip.

As for Seojeong, she’s one of the many girls he’s been hooking up with to take his mind off of you. He accidentally slipped up a few months ago when he said your name in the midst of his release with another girl, encouraging even more people to whisper about you and him. Luckily, he shut it down before word ever got to you. He’s been a lot more careful with his restraint since then.

He never expected to meet your gaze while he was fingering Seojeong outside of the Slytherin dorms.

And he won’t lie if someone asked him if he has fantasized about your curious eyes watching him pleasure someone else before.

“That sounds fair.”

You nod at his short response, still refusing to meet his stare. You quickly gather your books in your arms.

“I-I’ll meet you at the end of the week to discuss what I find then.”

You don’t tell Doyeon or Jimin what happened that night. They question you when you return to their dorm a little frazzled and panicked, but you say that you simply saw a bug in the hallway that creeped you out.

They buy your excuse then, but grow increasingly more suspicious when you continue to act on edge for the rest of the week.

“Alright, what in Merlin is going on with you? You heard a chair squeak and I swear you jumped out of your skin,” Doyeon says, eyes narrowed at you.

Jimin leans forward on the library table to get a closer look at your flushed expression.

“N-Nothing!” You stutter, fingers rolling through the fabric of your skirt nervously. “I’m just- um, I’m just-“

They watch you flounder, eyebrows raised as you struggle to find the right words.

“Could I ask you both a question? And you have to promise that you won’t ask me any follow-up questions in return.”

Doyeon and Jimin exchange a glance before nodding hesitantly.

“Go ahead.”

You take a deep breath. “Have you two ever, you know, been with someone? Like on an intimate level?”

A moment of silence passes before questions erupt from the two.

“Is someone trying to pressure you into having sex?”

“Oh Merlin, do we have to go and kill someone? Who’s trying to put their hands on you?”

You swiftly shush them, turning your head to check if anyone in the library is eavesdropping in on you.

“You promised,” you whine.

They sigh, clearly stressed from the idea of you being pressured into anything.

Jimin speaks first. “Yes, I have. It was awkward and not that fun, if I’m being honest.”

Doyeon hums in agreement. “Definitely more pleasurable for the guy than the girl most of the time.”

“Okay,” you drawl, trying to figure out how to ask them what you’re really wondering. “So it was a one time thing? You weren’t in a relationship with them?”

They nod. You huff, pondering over the idea. You would never admit your jealousy, but the image of Jaemin pleasuring Seojeong chilled you to your core. Your mind has been swirling with frenzied thoughts all week — were they dating now? When did Jaemin suddenly start fingering girls in public? Did this mean he really wanted nothing to do with you anymore? And lastly, how did you fall so far behind your classmates sexually?

A tap on your shoulder takes you out of your trance. Doyeon and Jimin’s expressions have suddenly turned stern, lips pursed at whoever has approached your table.

“Hey, you ready to discuss our project?”

Your eyes flit up to catch the boy that has been haunting your dreams. Jaemin’s fingers brush through his hair casually, and you speculate if he knows how attractive he looks.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply nervously, taking your notebook and standing to walk with him.

Doyeon says your name with fervor before you can leave. “Maybe one of us should go with you. Or you can talk about your project here.”

You don’t miss her implication and the fact that the former topic of conversation has them theorizing that Jaemin is the one bringing your sexual awakening to light.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Jaemin answers for you, ignoring their glares and escorting you to another table towards the back of the library.

You avoid his gaze as much as possible when you sit down, opening your notebook and immediately diving into the details of the Bubble-Head Charm.

“The charm can be dated back for centuries, and many wizards believe it was created to help them swim underwater-“

“Did you enjoy the show?”

His sudden question brings you out of your notes, and for the first time in a week, you take a look at him.

He’s studying you fiercely, eyes piercing into the depths of your soul.

“What show?” You ask in confusion, not understanding how this could possibly be related to your project.

“I don’t usually like an audience when I’m trying to help someone on the brink of their climax,” he says unabashedly. Your breath catches in your throat. “I find that I don’t mind it when it’s you though.”

“I think we should focus on the project, Nana,” you whisper, not realizing how easily the nickname has slipped from your lips.

“You’re still going to call me that?” He asks, eyes unexpectedly clouded with fury. “Still going to act like the innocent girl when you played the little voyeur for me?”

“Jaemin,” you say quietly, your body flaring with an equal weight of lust and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you and Seojeong.”

He scoffs. “You think I care about her? I bet you pictured yourself in her place, hm? Begging for me to help you cum, looking so desperate for me in a public space,” he laughs, keeping his voice low for only you to hear his crude words. He drinks in your appalled expression. “What? Do you miss when I was the nice boy for you, helping you grab a book when you couldn’t reach it on your own? Chasing after you with my tail tucked between my legs?”

He moves his chair until he’s seated right beside you, hand resting on the inside of your thigh. You jolt at the contact, praying he doesn’t discover your wetness soaking through your panties.

“Or do you like it better when I’m straightforward like this? Telling you exactly how I want you?”

His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath hitting your cheek. If you move just a little closer, you could probably kiss him-

Another hand suddenly grabs your elbow, pulling you away from Jaemin’s hold.

“Get away from her!” Jimin growls while Doyeon starts to collect your things, shoving it in your bag hurriedly.

“Don’t even think about touching her again.”

Your friends whisk you away from the table, leaving Jaemin with a raging hard-on and eyes full of determination.

—

You’re in your seventh year when you desperately want Na Jaemin to kiss you.

The tables have turned quite exceptionally. Contrary to previous years, you find yourself pursuing the Slytherin boy.

After last year’s encounter in the library, you convinced Doyeon and Jimin that Jaemin’s advances were wanted by you. You had to sit them down and explain to them that yes, your questions about sex were Jaemin-related and no, they did not have to act like your moms all the time. They still held their reservations when it came to Jaemin and you, and you couldn’t blame them. Your history together was confusing to say the least, but now you could actually say you were starting to recognize the feelings you had for him.

The only problem was that Jaemin seemed to lose all interest in you.

Jimin relayed to you the information about Jaemin ceasing all communication with the girls he normally hooked up with, which you took as a good sign, but was disappointed when he made no advances to contact you again.

You failed your Charms project with him because you two couldn’t find the courage to approach one another to resume the study. Instead, you threw heart eye glances to him for the rest of the term, which he easily ignored.

You shyly approach Jeno and Donghyuck on the first day of seventh year.

“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say that you like Jaemin?”

Donghyuck is incredulous, rubbing his eyes and hitting his ears to make sure he’s seeing and hearing you correctly.

Beside him, Jeno simply smirks in understanding. “I was wondering when you’d finally admit it.”

You cower underneath their stares. “I was just going to ask if either of you know if Jaemin likes me too. I don’t think he does anymore so I want to get confirmation.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Are you kidding me? The kid moans your name in his sleep so I think it’s safe to say-“

He yelps when Jeno pinches his side, glaring at him.

“What this idiot is trying to say is that yes, Jaemin likes you. He’s only liked you since we arrived at Hogwarts and we fear he’ll only like you until he dies. I don’t know why you would think otherwise,” Jeno hums, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“Well,” you drone, twiddling your thumbs nervously. “He hasn’t talked to me at all since last year and he doesn’t treat me like he used to. He’s completely iced me out.”

Donghyuck laughs again. “Doubt that. Remember just yesterday when he accidentally said her name when he was talking to Minjeong?”

Jeno pinches his side once more and Donghyuck whines painfully in exaggeration.

“Again, what this idiot is trying to say is that maybe Jaemin is waiting for you to make the first move. He’s made his intentions pretty clear, you know, so I think the ball’s in your court.”

You ponder over Jeno’s words all week, eyes drifting to Jaemin’s figure more than you would possibly admit during classes. Doyeon and Jimin speak the Gryffindor bravery into you as you proceed towards his table in the library — the same table he cornered you at last year.

“Hi,” you squeak, fingers gripping your books to your chest for dear life.

He looks up at you, facial expression remaining neutral.

“Hi.”

“Can I- um, can I sit here?”

He nods and you take the seat beside him. Your whole body is nearly shaking from anxiety but you push through it.

“I wanted to talk to you because- well, I talked to Jeno and Donghyuck and they made me realize that it was my turn to talk to you first. I know things have been weird since the Hyojung incident and I wanted you to know I don’t blame you for that at all! I know it sounded like I was blaming you but then I realized it was just a misunderstanding and I was so overwhelmed by my emotions-“

He places a hand on your arm, stopping your rambling from continuing.

“Take a deep breath,” he says, thumb rubbing circles on your skin in comfort. “Relax. It’s just me.”

You huff and shake your head. “But that’s why I can’t relax. Because it’s you.”

His fingers move to brush the stray hairs from your face, slowly advancing downwards to caress your cheek. You recognize the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting his lips.

“Yeah? You get nervous because of me?”

You nod sheepishly. “You always make me nervous, Nana.”

His eyes darken at the nickname. “You know, you’re the only one who still calls me that.”

“Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, should I stop saying it?”

Your breath hitches when his fingers trail across your bottom lip.

“You never answered my question.”

“H-Huh?”

“About whether you liked me when I was following you around like a pathetic little boy or when I’m direct with my feelings like this,” he murmurs, thumb resting on your tongue. “Suck.”

You almost moan at the instruction, wrapping your lips around the digit. Jaemin curses under his breath, drinking in your innocent eyes blinking back at him.

You pull away to respond. “I like you. I don’t care what you do — I just like you.”

“Aren’t you the fucking sweetest?” He grunts, no longer able to hold himself back as he lunges forward.

You gasp and place a hand on his chest before his lips could collide with yours.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. “But you and Shotaro-“

“We just held hands,” you say meekly, ashamed to admit your lack of experience. “It felt too weird to kiss him.”

He suddenly stands and begins to gather his things, and your shoulders deflate. He probably doesn’t want to be with you anymore now that he knows you’re the virgin who’s never been kissed.

You’re surprised when his hand wraps around yours and he tugs you along. He pulls you out of the library and you try your best to keep up with him.

“Jaemin, where are we going?”

You seem to get your answer when you land in front of the Slytherin dorms. Jaemin quietly mutters the password to enter and you find yourself being led to a grand staircase, realizing he’s bringing you to his dorm room.

“Hey! She can’t be here!” A voice calls from the bottom of the staircase. You’re about to excuse yourself out of humiliation but Jaemin’s grip tightens on your hand.

“Go fuck yourself, Doyoung.”

“Na Jaemin!”

Once you enter Jaemin’s room, you blink at the sight of Yangyang and Donghyuck sitting on the floor, playing a game of Exploding Snap.

“Get out,” Jaemin barks.

They look up and frown, eyes moving back and forth from him to you.

“But it’s nearly midnight-“

“Get the fuck out.”

They both grumble, taking their card game and exiting the room.

“You didn’t have to kick them out,” you start to mumble, but shriek when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling your body to his.

His nose brushes against yours, and you squirm in his hold. He looks so pretty up close, and you ponder if anyone could be more perfect than him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You still want to?”

“I’ve always wanted to, sweetheart.”

You stutter. “O-Okay.”

Your first kiss is magical. Jaemin’s lips are so soft against yours, and you melt underneath his touch. At first, the kiss is delicate and gentle, with him holding you like you could break at any second. Then, the kiss shifts into something more carnal and desperate, the weight of his body pressing closer and closer to you. His tongue begs for entrance past your lips and you easily grant it, allowing him to nearly swallow you whole.

You rub your thighs together desperately. “Nana,” you whimper.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You have no idea how to tell him what you want, so you decide to show him instead. You grab his hand and move it until it disappears underneath your skirt, hovering dangerously close to your core.

He chuckles into your mouth. “Maybe we should take it slow. You just had your first kiss.”

“But I want more,” you whine. “I want what you gave to Seojeong.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His head moves downwards to press kisses along the side of your neck. “I dreamed of doing this to you nearly every night. I always wondered what pretty sounds you would make for me.”

“Wait,” you stop him and he stills, lips a few inches away from grazing your collarbone. You timidly ask, “Can I be your girlfriend?”

He smiles, raising his head to peck your lips. “You’re so perfect. You can be whatever you want, baby. I’ll buy a ring for you tomorrow if you want it.”

You giggle. “Quit teasing me.”

“It’s cute that you think I’m teasing,” he hums, voice filled with mischief. “It’s cute that you think I wouldn’t get on my knees for you and do whatever you asked.”

You swallow when he does, in fact, get on his knees for you. He pushes up your skirt so that he’s staring directly at your pretty pink panties, all cotton with a little bow in the front. You wish you had worn a sexier pair today, but you would never have guessed you’d be in this position.

You squeak when his mouth messily envelops your cunt, his tongue desperately pushing against the fabric.

You hear him grunt. “Smell so good, baby. Your pussy’s dripping for me.” His fingers hook onto the sides of your underwear, pulling it down your thighs slowly. “Do you touch yourself, sweetheart?”

You flounder. “I tried once,” you confess shakily. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“Oh yeah?” He purrs, running a finger through your folds, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “When did that happen?”

You struggle to piece a sentence together. “The n-night after I caught you and S-Seojeong. I couldn’t stop t-thinking about it.”

He clicks his tongue. “Dirty girl. You touched yourself thinking about me pleasuring someone else? You liked watching us, didn’t you?”

You whimper. “You were right — I wanted to be her so badly.”

You cry when his mouth wraps around your clit, sucking tightly. You almost fold in on yourself but Jaemin steadies you, hands gripping the back of your thighs to make sure you stay in place.

“Nana,” you beg. “That feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

However, he does withdraw himself from your cunt, evoking a mewl from you.

“No, no, please-“

He guides you towards the bed and you tilt your head in confusion when he lays down first, gesturing for you to join him.

“Come here, baby. Sit on my face.”

You blink. “W-What? That’s dangerous!”

He laughs. “Trust me, dying while eating your pussy is probably the best way to go.”

You hesitate. “Nana…”

“It’s okay, sweet girl. It’ll feel really good, I promise. And if I drown in your cunt then you can cast that Bubble-Head Charm to save me.”

“Nana!”

You decide to trust him after a brief deliberation, awkwardly maneuvering your way onto the bed and hovering over his face.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Instead of verbally responding, he grabs a handful of your ass and plants you down until your core sits directly on his mouth. You frantically reach for the headboard to steady yourself, unable to stop the moans crawling out of your throat.

He eats you like you’re his last meal, tongue lapping at your folds and sucking on your clit. You’ve never been touched like this before — never been wanted so desperately by a man who’s willing to cut off his source of breathing just to get a taste of you. You move one hand to grip at his hair, tugging at the strands whenever a sensation grows to be too much for you.

Jaemin is locked in on a mission to get you to your orgasm. The idea of him being the first person to help you reach your climax is so incredibly arousing that he could honestly cum untouched.

You gasp when pleasure spreads across your entire body, accidentally rolling your hips to ride Jaemin’s tongue. He moans in encouragement, using his hands to guide you as you use him like a toy.

“J-Jaemin-“

He sucks your clit hard, and that sends you over. Frantic whimpers spill from your lips as you release onto his awaiting tongue. Your thighs tremble from the intensity of your orgasm, all while Jaemin laps at your gushing wetness.

The pleasure shifts to discomfort from oversensitivity and he finally allows you to draw back. You grow flustered when you pull away and see the smear of your arousal covering his face. He eagerly licks his lips and sighs in content.

Your embarrassment multiplies tenfold when you realize what you’ve done, frantically shuffling away and pulling your underwear back up your legs.

“Where are you going, baby?” He murmurs, wrapping a hand around your wrist and pulling you back to the bed. Your back meets his chest and he hums, pressing kisses to your throat.

“T-That was s-so-“

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Are you feeling dirty now that you let a silly boy eat your little cunt?”

You squirm. “Jaemin-“

He shushes you gently. “Poor baby. You want a little more? I know your pussy’s aching for it.”

Your eyes trail downwards to the bulge in his slacks, looking like he’s about to burst through the seams.

“Will it hurt?” You ask softly, feeling slightly intimidated.

“A little bit, but I’ll help you through it.”

You nod. “O-Okay.”

He starts to move you so that you’re lying down on the bed, but you wrap a hand around his to stop him.

“Can we stay like this? I like it when you hold me this way.”

His arm snakes around your middle and he tugs you closer. “Of course, baby. You’re going to have to be patient, okay? Just take a deep breath and trust me.”

You whine when his fingers dance around the inside of your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Have to stretch you first or else it’s going to hurt more, okay?”

You tentatively nod and he takes your panties off for good, flinging them across the room. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm so you nearly blubber when he pushes a finger inside of your dripping hole. The sensation feels both foreign and otherworldly, almost like an itch you’ve been dying to scratch. You cry when he curls his finger, sending shockwaves up your spine.

He tilts your head to the side so he can plant another kiss to your lips. He distracts you from a second finger joining the first as he slowly thrusts both up into you.

“Doing perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs into your mouth. “So so perfect for me. Going to add one more, alright?”

“Okay, Nana.”

He whispers more praises in your ear while you somehow find a way to fit three of his fingers inside your tight pussy. You roll your hips to feel more of him, completely stuffed full.

“That’s a good girl. Ride my fingers, baby.”

Your body reacts before your mind does, lewdly dripping down his hand as you chase another impending orgasm. Your mind is clouded by a haze of lust, feeling like an animal in heat with the way you eagerly push onto his digits.

“I think I’m gonna-“

“I know, baby. Go ahead, I’m right here,” he coaxes.

All it takes is a few more twists of your hips and his thumb flicking over your abused clit for you to cum. You shudder, cunt pulsing around him as you come down from your high. You whimper when he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking up remnants of your wetness.

“How did that feel?”

You squeak. “It felt good.”

He smiles and kisses you once more. “Pretty girl. Want to take my cock now?”

You nod shyly, allowing him to unzip his pants and unsheath his length. Your eyes widen slightly at the size of him, his cock angrily red and tip leaking.

“That looks like it hurts,” you comment on his swelling shaft as he adjusts your bodies so that your cunt is hovering over him.

“It does, sweetheart. And you’re the only one who can make it better. Now take a deep breath for me.” You obey his command, inhaling and exhaling slowly to prepare yourself. He turns your head again to look at him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I love you, okay? Loved you since our first year here. Want to make this feel good for you.”

Your eyes suddenly well with tears. “I love you too, Nana. And I trust you, more than anyone else.”

His grin is blinding and his lips smack against yours, the tip of his cock slowly pushing into your waiting cunt. You painfully whine and he holds you tighter, reminding you to relax and breathe. He drives you lower and lower until you’re nearly halfway down his cock, and you gasp loudly. His thumb returns to your clit, circling the bud gently to help you along.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yeah, keep going, Nana.”

He sings praises in your ear until he’s bottomed out and you were definitely wrong before — this is what it feels like to be completely stuffed full. He lets you adjust to his size until your tiny cries of discomfort shift into whimpers of pleasure.

“Going to start moving now. Tell me if it’s too much, baby.”

He gives an experimental thrust that has you moaning.

“Good, good,” you breathe, encouraging him to keep going.

He starts pushing into you gradually, groaning at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“I’m not going to last, baby.”

You squeal when his thrusts increase speed, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

“Ungh, ungh, ungh-“

Vulgar sounds echo in the tiny dorm room with your wetness leaking down Jaemin’s cock and his skin slapping against yours forcefully. You feel like you could easily come again, but your mind screams at you that something’s missing.

“Nana?”

He’s drilling into you now, trying his best to move you up and down his cock at a rapid pace.

“Yeah, baby- fuck,” he hisses, not knowing if you realize how your pussy constantly clenches around him. “What is it?”

“Can you kiss me?”

He swears he’s been blessed by Merlin himself to have a girl as sweet as you. He grants your wish, enveloping his lips with yours and swirling his tongue inside your mouth sloppily.

The simple gesture is enough to serve as the snap to your third orgasm. He moans when he feels your cunt spasm, and he finally releases his warm seed deep into your womb.

You both try to catch your breath as you come down from your high. He kisses you again, and it’s a messy mix of saliva and tongues, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I really liked that,” you confess, and he laughs.

“Good, because we’re going to be doing it a lot from now on. I’m not wasting any more time with you.”

—

You’re about to graduate from Hogwarts when Doyeon and Jimin can’t find you.

You’re meant to be boarding the enchanted boats soon — a ritual that all seventh years take during the end of their Hogwarts stay. All three of you promised to take a boat together, but your two friends can’t seem to find you anywhere.

“Do you think she got kidnapped?”

“Why do you always jump to kidnapping?” Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “I bet you Jaemin just couldn’t take his paws off of her.”

And they would be very correct as Na Jaemin is currently pounding you in the Charms classroom, fingers crumpling your skirt as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy.

“W-We’re gonna m-miss the boats,” you moan, clutching your desk and whining pathetically.

“Don’t give a fuck. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me get my share of this pussy last night.”

“I was hanging out with Doyeon and Jimin! It was our last night in the castle together.”

“Yeah, just like it’s my last time getting to fuck you in this classroom.”

He thrusts into the particular spot that has you keening, back arched as you moan loudly. Usually, your boyfriend would try to keep you quiet, but considering today’s your last day of schooling, he doesn’t see the point.

What could they do, expel you? You already finished all of your exams.

A screech erupts in the doorway and he hears Jimin’s infuriated voice.

“I told you! Jaemin, give the girl a break!”

You cry as you reach your climax, squirting all over Jaemin’s cock and scattering your wetness across the floor. He groans and buries himself deep inside of you, spurting ropes of his cum until his cock begs him for some rest.

“They say when you raise kids that you should expect the day they disappoint you. I didn’t know that this is what they meant,” Doyeon sighs.

You quickly fumble to pull on your skirt and Jaemin tucks himself back into his slacks.

“It smells awful in here! How long have you two been going at it?” Jimin hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“A couple of hours,” he replies with a smirk, wincing when you hit his chest as a warning.

You shakily stand and try to make yourself look presentable. “I’ll be right there!” You call out to your friends, ignoring the perturbed look on their faces. You would normally be ashamed, but that feeling disappeared months ago when they constantly caught you and Jaemin fucking in almost every inch of the castle.

Before you can leave, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for another kiss.

“I’ll see you on the train, baby?”

“You can’t fuck her on the train!”

You both breeze past Jimin’s comment.

“I’ll see you there. Love you.”

“Love you. And hey, I think you’re pretty.”

You giggle and press your lips to his again.

Doyeon and Jimin take you away before the kiss can progress into another round of fucking.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

[nachojaehyun]

you give good love

pairing. brother’s best friend! idol! dino + fem! reader

summary. as lee chan’s eyes met yours again, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

w.c. 5.10K

playlist. kind of based off of you give good love by whitney houston but not really i was just listening to it while writing this

warnings. [PLEASE READ] reader is hoshi’s sister, mentions of freak dino 🫢, smut under the cut, PWP, afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom chan, pussy eating from the BACK, uses of pet names, chan has a BIG dick, BULGE KINK, very little dirty talking, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl please), creampie duh — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. pi-cheollin is the reason i live and breathe. also i might write chunsunie x pi-cheollin fics soon 😭 also thank you guys so so so much for 2K notes on the wonwoo fic 🙇‍♀️ super grateful for all your love, more soon. this is also my first ever long fic, so i hope you like it. enjoy!

“so yeah, those are the dates and timings of the flight. now, check your schedule.”

soonyoung could hear the ruffling of paper as he waited on the phone. the air con blasted in his face, evaporating any signs of sweat from his pores.

“yeah, i think i’ll be able to make it!” your voice chirped. soonyoung couldn’t help the smile on his face. “thank god! also, don’t worry about being lonely, jeonghan hyung’s sister will also be there, and also wonwoo’s sister.”

“i haven’t seen them in so long! wow, a true trip down memory lane,” you sighed, finally setting aside the calendar on your lap. “they ask about you a lot, i told you to exchange contacts with them!” your brother scolded you.

“i may have forgotten… but all that aside, how much do i need to pack?” you nervously bit your lip, contemplating how much shopping you would need to do.

“it’s a summer trip for one week, basically a mini vacation. pack a good amount of shirts and tops and modest shorts. bring your grandma style swimsuits for the pool.”

“grandma style swimsuit? oh please! i didn’t work out all winter to wear a one-piece!” you complained, flexing your biceps in front of the mirror. “i’ll bring what i want to bring.”

“and if i see any of these perverts staring at you, i’ll chop your head off too, yeah?” soonyoung sighed. “yeah yeah, they are the perverts. and you’re the polished lamb of jesus who has never gawked at wonwoo’s sister right?”

your rhetorical question has your brother stunned as he gapes into the abyss, his mouth filling up with the cool air from the air con. “i’m… how did you—” he begins, only to be cut off by the doorbell of his shared apartment.

“that’s the others. look, i’ll leave now, but make sure to pack properly, okay? text me if you need anything. see you soon.”

with that, he hung up. you smiled as you set down your phone, already deciding the outfits in your head.

as you walked over to your closet, your phone interrupted your thought process with a loud notification.

이찬: oi

이찬: did you get the plane tickets?

with a sigh, you texted back your brother’s best friend, who had somehow managed to find out about soonyoung inviting you.

you: ya, i will be coming.

you could see the dots bouncing on the screen, but you chose to ignore them. switching over to a music app, you started to scroll through and pick your random playlist.

your brother’s song, God of Music started to play and you threw your phone on the bed, enjoying the music.

you could text chan back later. he was really annoying, and it’s not like he meant anything to you anyway.

your phone buzzed with his notifications as you sorted through swim suits. “hmm, this makes my ass look fat right?”

as you landed in the jeju international airport, you gathered your luggage and made your way to the gates.

your brother was already waiting outside, clad in a mask and a cap. wonwoo and his sister accompanied him, smiling and waving at you.

“hey guys!” you hugged them, before fixing the crop top that rode up your waist. “i missed you so much!” minji (wonwoo’s sister) squealed.

the four of you got in the car after shoving your luggage in the back. wonwoo sat next to your brother, scrolling through his phone as you and minji chatted their ears off.

soonyoung couldn’t help but peek at the rear view mirror ever so often, catching glances of minji and smiling to himself.

you wanted to call him out, but decided against embarrassing your brother so early into the trip.

within 30 minutes, you had reached the share house. it was a beautiful property, surrounded by greenery. the sounds of waves crashing on the beach wallowed around you as you dragged your suitcase up the ramp.

“eunsok is dying to meet you! we must make a group chat this time, so that we remember to check up on each other, yeah?” minji helped you with your handbag, smiling as you nodded enthusiastically.

in front of the main door, you took in a sharp breath, before pushing the mahogany portico open.

immediately inside, you were greeted by jeonghan, joshua and mingyu lounging about on the couch. however, upon the sound of your entrance, eunseok ran down the stairs, engulfing both you and minji in a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed you!” she screamed, nearly tackling you on the floor. with a giggle, you hugged her back. “me too! its just sad that sophie couldn’t join us.”

muttering agreements under their giggly breath, the two helped you get up, and greet the others.

as you answered jeonghan’s questions about your well-being, you heard heavy footsteps from the stairs.

lee chan’s body appeared downstairs. when his gaze countered yours, you choked on your words.

it had been nearly 5 years since you had seen him in person. and wow, had he changed. dino, as he was famously known as these days, sported much bigger muscles, and a sculpted face. his hairstyle was finally suiting his face, a beautiful contrast to the bowl cuts you had seen him in during childhood.

for the first time in your life, you actually looked at him. and boy, did he look good. the tank top he wore showed off his body as he walked towards you, checking you out silently.

he had to admit, you surprised him. your black crop top, barely there jean shorts, and long brown hair came as a huge shock to chan.

he had remembered you as the snot-faced bratty sister of his best friend. the girl in pigtails who would cry every time he brought up your crush in middle school.

as lee chan’s eyes met yours, he could feel his consciousness slipping away from his soul. god damn, he thought to himself. when did this brat get so hot?

“hi,” chan finally placed himself in front of you, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “hi,” you breathed out, clutching the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“oh, you guys are meeting after so long!” mingyu chuckled, his eyes wandering around the room as he noticed the tension between you and his youngest member.

“yeah,” you smiled, transfixed by chan’s eyes. his plush lips parted as he glanced at your glossy ones, before quickly scanning your face.

“okay, that’s enough of your weird staring contest,” soonyoung placed a hand on chan’s chest, pushing him back to create some distance between you two.

“i’ll help you get to your room,” he turned to you. “you’re lucky, since you get it to yourself, but its comparatively smaller and narrower than the others—”

“wait, weren’t we supposed to buy alcohol and meat from the store on the way back?” wonwoo suddenly remembered, making all the eyes in the room turn to him.

“shit!” minji slapped her forehead, tutting. “we’ll go get them then! you wanna come with?” she smiled at you, eunseok joining in.

“i think i should set up my things first yeah? but take soonyoung in my place,” you shoved your brother forward. “he’d love to go grocery shopping with you.”

minji’s cheeks flared up as she straightened her posture, nodding. “sure yeah.”

within minutes, wonwoo, minji, eunseok, soonyoung and mingyu headed off to the car, ready to buy crates of beer for the evening.

as the door shut behind him, jeonghan threaded his hands through his hair, smirking. “dino-yah,” he cooed. “why don’t you help her with her luggage?”

almost immediately, joshua joined in, egging on the maknae as both of you felt the heat creep up on your neck.

wordlessly, chan snatched your suitcase from your hand, beckoning you upstairs. you bowed at the two elder to you, before running up to chan.

he led you to a small room in the very corner of the second floor, opening the door with his leg as he walked in.

chan cleared his throat as you walked in, placing your hands on your bare waist. “so, this is your room.”

you nodded at him, taking in your space for the rest of the trip. the room was furnished with a queen sized bed, a love-seat in the corner, a small desk and chair and a balcony in the very end.

“this door,” chan walked over to a door that sat perpendicular to the entry. “this is the door to a common bathroom. its a jack and jill one, that connects to the room opposite to you.”

“oh? and who’s in the room opposite to me?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. with a dramatic sigh, chan leaned against the bathroom door, swinging his head to meet your eyes.

“its me.”

your breath hitched as he gulped. “w-wow,” you stuttered out. “sounds great, chan. looks like we are forced together again,” you smirked, crossing your arms as you stared at him.

he knew what you were referring to.

back when you were kids, and way before the idiot in front of you had signed with Pledis, you and soonyoung had gone to his house for a sleepover. chan’s mother had insisted on having you sleep on the bed, since “the floor is no place for a lady to sleep.” you and chan shared the bed, while soonyoung dozed off on the ground.

you were 14 at that time, and you remember how you skin had heated up when chan inched closer to you. “there’s no one to save you from my tickles now, crybaby!” the 15 year old boy had threatened.

yet, chan could barely focus on the flashback, instead focusing on the way your breasts nearly fell out from the neckline of your top.

you noticed his staring. smirking, you drew closer, tightening the cross of your arms.

“what’s this now, you’re ogling at me?”

you had him cornered. chan’s back was against the wall at you forced yourself into his space, breasts touching his hard torso.

“i—in you dreams!” he lied through his teeth, nervousness oozing out of his soul as he stared down at your tits.

god, the things he would do to slot his dick between those beautiful, gorgeous, one of a kind—

“my eyes are up here, channie,” you stuck your tongue out at him, before backing away and walking up to your suitcase.

dino felt his blood rushing south as you bent over to pick your bag up and place it on the table.

you purposefully wiggled your ass, humming to yourself. “channie,” you called out, voice as sweet as a siren.

“yeah?” dino collected himself, shaking away the filth that plagued his mind. two can play that game, he decided, biting his lip.

“can you come help me put my things in the bathroom? i have too much to unpack.”

with a nod, he walked over to your space, his chest touching your back as he leaned over your shoulder. “why did you pack so much, hm?” he teased you, running his fingers down your smooth arms.

not backing down from the challenge, you pushed your ass against him, whipping your head to meet his eyes. “i just wanted to look good, y’know? in case there was a strong, buff, hot man i wanted to seduce.”

with a hiss at your movements, chan’s hands flew to your hips. “yeah? you’ve grown up so much that you seduce men now?”

“oh, i do a lot more than just seduce,” you giggled, skincare long forgotten on the desk as you turned around, hopping on the wooden platform as your arms loosely slung around his neck.

chan slotted his knee between your legs, the pervert in him alive and breathing at the sight of you. you were driving him insane.

how you had managed to change so much over a few years had him baffled. instead of worrying about soonyoung, chan thought with his dick.

“what do you do then?” he questioned, eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. you pushed your clothed cunt down on his knee, biting back a moan.

“i think i would rather show you what i do than tell you,” you whimpered out, darkened eyes peering into his hazy ones.

chan bent his knee further into you, causing a delicious moan to escape your throat. “getting bold now, aren’t you?”

before you could even comprehend his words, your pussy spoke before you, hips rutting into his knee. however, a sharp knock on the door interrupted your little hump session.

“chan? y/n?” seungcheol’s voice spoke from behind the door. “you guys in there?”

chan quickly separated from you, walking closer to the door to answer. “yeah, i’m just helping her with her stuff. what’s up?”

“well, we were ordering some take out, so if you guys could come down and give your preferences, it would be great.”

“yeah, be there in a second,” chan glanced back at you, your teary eyes meeting his. the fucked out expression on your face made his dick jump to life.

but the heat of the moment had passed, which painted both of your cheek's a deep shade of red. realization hit dino way faster than it hit you. shooting you a tight-lipped smile, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

with a sigh, chan left the room and left you breathless, panting as your senses slowly returned. the fire of lust in your stomach had dimmed slightly, as realization dawned on you.

what the fuck just happened? and why did you like it?

nightfall arrived faster than you expected. but the cool air surrounding the beach raised bumps on your skin as you shoved grilled meat down your throat.

seungkwan and mingyu worked on the grill, with vernon filling up everyone’s plates with the expensive store bought items.

you sat on a stool next to seungcheol, sipping on the beer can that was handed to you. when everyone was busy with their own thing, the leader turned to you and smiled.

“so, how have you been? a long time has passed since we spoke right?”

you had always found comfort in seungcheol. he was the leader of the group, a very reliable and trustworthy person. you remember asking him for advice when you got into college.

“i’ve been well, how are you?” you set your can aside. “any luck with the ladies you used to complain about?”

he laughs loudly at that, spooning a mouthful of ramen. “no, i’m still stuck with one-night stands for now. dating is too complicated!”

when chan hears his hyung talking about his love life, he scoots closer to the both of you, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“what about you? get any action?” seungcheol giggled.

you could practically feel dino’s presence beside you like a wavering shadow, and you chose to exploit it. how dare he leave you with an unfinished orgasm?

“oh yeah, plenty!” you smirked. “don’t tell soonyoung, but i’m lowkey addicted to sex? just feels so good to let off some steam, you know? and the dudes around me are so easy… they fall into my hands like domino.”

the harsh truth behind those words were only known to you. you had been on a dry spell for nearly 2 months now. your fingers and toys were not enough, and you were pretty sure you had started to hallucinate about dick.

“wah, kwon hoshi’s sister is all grown up, huh? good for you girl, go get them!” seungcheol cheered you on, clinking his can with yours.

you sneakily turned to look at chan, who had suddenly grown silent in his conversation with seokmin. “dino-yah. are you okay?”

chan’s eyes met yours and he immediately tensed up. you noticed how white his knuckles had turned, just from gripping wooden chopsticks.

“i’m fine,” he smiled, eyes dancing over your body before he returned to his friend. your bralette was doing nothing to hide your slightly tanned skin, black shorts making your perky ass stand out even more.

dino mentally cursed soonyoung for even allowing you to wear that. but then again, his best friend was too preoccupied with his little crush to pay you any attention.

the rest of the mini barbeque was a tough time for him. the poor boy could only think about your tantalizing words to seungcheol, calling a sweet string of cusses to all the men that touched you before he ever could.

you noticed how your plan was working, hiding your smirk behind a colorful can of beer as lee chan suffered in silence.

within a few hours of outdoor activity, jun and minghao said goodnight to everyone first, tired of all the hustle and bustle. a few others followed suit, yawning and sighing.

at the end of the night greetings, you, dino, wonwoo, seungcheol, soonyoung, minji, and joshua remained near the pool. you saw how your brother kept leeching up to minji, cracking idiotic jokes under her brother's watchful eye.

"i... i think i'll head to bed now, good night guys!" you stretched up from your chair. chan's eyes followed the way your skin gleamed under the fairy lights. he gulped loudly as you purposefully swayed your hips while walking inside.

"you can follow her in, chan-ah," wonwoo smiled, shifting his gaze to the youngest momentarily. "i'll keep kwon hoshi here for a while."

"what are you on about?" dino tried to play it off, scoffing as he crunched up a beer can. wonwoo could only roll his eyes.

"it's obvious you like her, and i'm just giving you a chance to work on it. you really should tone down the staring... soonyoung would kill you if he found out, and i am willing to help you for now. so don't be an idiot and go."

smiling toothily at his hyung, dino whispered out an "i love you" before running up the stairs. he reached his room without breaking a sweat and decided to shower before doing anything.

however, when he was about to slide the door to your shared bathroom open, he heard a loud sigh coming from inside. shamelessly, chan pushed his ear against the door, curious as to what you were doing.

your sigh was followed by a small whisper that sounded like "i can't believe i'm doing this." then, chan heard a zipper being opened.

his eyes widened as he realized what you were actually doing. "no way," he mouthed to himself, feeling his boner re-emerging at a sudden squelching noise.

"mhm," you moaned behind the door, and the pervert in the next room could only imagine what you looked like. "f-fuck chan!" you whimpered, and dino felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

the towel dropped from his hand, as his fingers sneaked to the hem of his basketball shorts. with a silent groan, chan stroked his chub as his eyes squeezed shut.

he pulled his cock out, swiping at his tip with his thumb. his brain worked overtime to imagine your hand in place of his, pretty eyes staring up at him.

meanwhile, in the bathroom, you leaned against the counter as your fingers stretched open your pussy. "feels so good," you whimpered, pitch increasing as you imagined his veiny hands pumping into you.

unbeknownst to each other, you and chan had cum to the thoughts of one another that night. chan made sure to cum at the same time as you, recognizing your borderline screams as you tipped over the edge.

what a filthy girl, he thought to himself, panting as his release spurted onto the towel he had discarded.

the starting 3 full days of the trip had made you avoid lee chan like he was the plague but personified.

every glance into his eyes had made you remember what you had done on that one night, and guilt seemed to sour your mood.

everyone had decided to go to the beach after having a few afternoon drinks. you spent your time around eunseok and vernon, gossipping about office trolls and work place shenanigans.

chan was simply drinking with seungkwan and minghao, refusing to give you any attention. although he was confused as to why you were ignoring him, he remained silent and decided to give you space.

jihoon suddenly joined into his conversation, hair tied back into a messy ponytail. “dino-ah,” he smirked, snatching a shot glass from the youngest’s hand. “i hear that there’s gonna be loads of girls on the beach today. wanna check some out? we can share if you want.”

as dino downed his shot, he stared back at his hyung with a grin. “don’t you remember what happened the last time we shared a girl? we had to take her to the hospital because she passed out!”

the group laughed, reminiscing the old memory. it wasn’t odd for them to share one-night stands. the boys were family, and they strongly believed in putting each other first.

the large number of giggles near you caught your attention. you and eunseok walked over to the boys, as she queried about their conversation.

“nothing much, it was just a last minute plan in prague… god we almost got arrested,” jihoon snickered, elbowing dino’s side. the youngest could only smirk, pouring himself another shot of soju.

questions flooded your mind as you stared at the man who had you in a chokehold. dino was clad in nothing but swim shorts, his taut muscles on full display for anyone to ogle over.

as the topic changed, your curiosity got the best of you. you staggered over to seungcheol, knowing that the boy would kill to gossip.

“oh hey y/n,” he greeted you with a tilt of his beer can, sunglasses perched upon his nose.

“hi,” you settled down next to him, your can of lemon soda forgotten as your lips quivered. “you look like you want to ask me something,” he chuckled, eyes scanning your face.

“you know me so well,” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs. “i can ask you anything right?”

“yeah, sure.”

“no repercussions?”

“no repercussions.”

with a sigh, you turned to face the leader as you took in a breath. “what happened in prague?”

seungcheol nearly choked on his drink, sputtering out flicks of the liquid as he stared at you with his eyes widened behind his shades.

“of everything you could have asked… why that?” he groaned, wiping his mouth. “come on,” you whined. “jihoon said it like it sounded so fun! i just wanna know!”

with a glance around to see if anyone was looking, the leader smiled and leaned in closer to you. “we swore we would never tell this to anyone but us… but you’re family too,” he began, voice merely above a whisper.

as seungcheol tattled on about the shenanigans that the idol group had been up to, you found yourself gasping. the wild story, the borderline illegality of it all— it was too much. you squeezed your thighs together when seungcheol skimmed past the details of the night they spent.

lee chan’s eyes followed the two of you, completely misinterpreting the situation. your shuffling thighs, masked giggles and wide eyes seemed like flirting to him as he clenched his jaw, downing his shot.

why were you making this so hard for him?

it was nearly 1 in the morning when you woke up in cold sweat.

your narrow room greeted you in a greyish hue, curtains pulled back to let the moonlight in. with a sigh, you resorted to calming down, taking deep breaths as you heard the waves crashing on shore. a slight buzzing noise filled your ears. it seemed to be coming from your door, but your mind could barely focus.

your dream had completely ruined your chances of sleep. a ticket to dreamland seemed impossible as seungcheol’s words floated in your head.

i’ve never seen dino go that feral on someone before… he was insatiable.

she squirted so hard when he was done, it was a huge mess. wonwoo’s glasses got drenched-

with a sigh, you take off your sleeping shorts and toss them to the side, fingers dipping down to your core.

your hole was slicked up, a sticky mess from your vivid imagination. your index finger prodded at your entrance, making you let out a sob.

your body was frustrated, in agony. you wanted to feel chan’s touch instead of your own hands, wanted to feel him buried inside you.

you let out another pained moan, pushing your first knuckle inside your fluttering walls. however, you fail to register the sounds you have been making, and that the buzzing from the outside had suddenly stopped.

you spread your legs wider, pumping your digits inside, letting out a hurt whimper. it would never be enough.

suddenly, the door to your shared bathroom opened with a slam, and a concerned chan appeared in your doorway. “are you okay—”

the sound of his voice egged you on further, hole gushing with a fresh serving of arousal. you all but sobbed at his direction, sex induced fog clouding your brain as your fingers fastened.

“chan,” you whimpered. in the doorway, with water drenched all over his face and a can of shaving cream in his hand, lee chan groaned at the sight in front him.

“help me…” you pleaded. “oh baby,” he growled, setting the can on the floor as he walked over to you. his hands parted your thighs even further, eyes examining the mess in between your legs.

with a sharp smack, he swatted your fingers away, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy.

morals be damned. soonyoung be damned.

“look at you,” his eyes stared into your hazed ones, a hand smacking your heat. the friction had your hips bucking.

“so soaked, hmm? what were you thinking of princess?” he bit his lip. “you… always thinking of you.”

“fuck,” he groaned, tilting his head back to compose himself. “y/n,” he sighed, one of his hands cupping your face.

you leaned into his touch, lips jutted out in a pout. “tell me you want this, and it’s not just something you’d forget. tell me you want me, and i’m all yours.”

with a smile, you turn aside to place a kiss on his palm. “i’ve never wanted something more in my life, lee chan.”

that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he flipped you over onto your stomach, slotting himself between your legs before he discarded his sweats on the floor.

“you have no idea how patient i have been,” he grunts, manhandling you to arch your back as your ass presses against his torso.

he dips his body down, face to face with your pussy. tantalizing, he licks a stripe up your folds, making your knees buckle on the mattress.

you try to look back to see him, but its impossible to move when his hands grab your ass cheeks, forcing his mouth back on you. dino’s chin brushes against your clit as he licks at your hole with a groan.

“so wet for me already, bet i could just slide in and you’d take it.”

you can only moan his name in return, clutching the bedsheets as he ate it from the back. his tongue fucks into your folds, lapping at the arousal that drips out of you in copious amounts.

“f-fuck channie! i’m—”

before you can finish, chan is moving away from your heat. the sudden lack of his mouth has you moaning and whining like a brat.

“easy doll, i don’t want you to cum on my face right now,” he pats your ass, flipping you over to your back as you finally get a view of him.

his slick covered face dips down to meet your lips. the kiss is searing and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

your hands reach for his hair, pulling him impossibly close as you suck on his tongue. using your neediness as a distraction, he quickly angles his hips and pushes his tip past your folds.

“shit!” you cuss, gasping and pulling away. in the heat of the moment, you never actually registered how obnoxiously big chan’s cock was.

as you look down to where your bodies meet, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. his fat tip exerts an experimental thrust, and the sheer stretch of his head has you whining.

“shh baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat. “just breathe for me?”

you inhale slowly, allowing your tense body to relax and adjust to him. dino’s attempts at distracting you do not go futile as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples. the pain in your chest makes the ache between your legs lose all meaning.

steadily, he pushes himself inside you, inch by inch entering your welcoming walls that spasm around him. when he finally bottoms out, you feel him in your gut.

this was the fullest you had ever felt. chan’s mouth licks the sweat around your breast, savouring in the salty taste.

his arms rest on either side of your head, making you relish the view. when he finally looks up, you pull him in for a kiss.

its sloppy, and his teeth clash into yours, but you could not care less. your pussy clenches around him as you pull away, nodding feverishly. “chan… if you don’t fuck me right now, i might die— hah!”

one languid thrust into you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his metal chain dangles on your chin, the coolness contrasting the heat that squelches down there.

chan takes full advantage of his dancer body as he pistons his hips into you. the stretch has you reeling, nails clawing down his broad back as his body leans into you.

dino’s lips find the spot on your neck, licking and sucking till red and purple bloom on your skin. his matted hair sticks to his forehead, as you turn your head to the side— the visuals becoming too much for you to handle.

you’re met with his forearm in your sight, fingers tightly gripping the bedsheets.

without a second thought, you lean forward and bit his skin, making him groan out as his cock twitches inside you.

“fu- you’re killing me baby,” he smirked, licking his lips as he forces you to look at him.

the brute force of his thrusts has your body thrashing, legs shaking with pleasure.

“feels so good channie!” you hiccup, mind cloud. the only thing you could think of was lee chan and his oh so perfect dick that was ravaging your insides.

when chan looks down, his eyes roll to the back of his head. he could see the outline of himself in your stomach, prodding out with every thrust.

a creamy and frothy ring lined the base of his cock, a testament to how your greedy cunt was sucking him in. your warm walls squeezed hard around him when one of his hands dropped down to press the bulge on your stomach.

“feel me in there, don’t ya?” he babbled, hips faltering at your vicious grip. “y-yes!” you cried out, feeling your stomach contracting.

with a loud growl, chan’s lips rest upon yours. “you close baby? can feel your greedy little cunt crying f’me,” he mumbled, licking your bottom lip.

your pathetic nods made him remove his hand from your stomach and find your clit instead, circling the bud as you mewled.

“cum for me baby, show me how much you needed this cock in you,” his eyes fluttered shut, forehead falling against yours.

“i’m cu— oh fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling your orgasm rip through your body. your pussy clamped down on him, gripping his length like a fleshlight.

dino moaned in your ear about how good you felt, thrusts turning sloppy as he pressed kisses on your earlobe.

he continued to move inside you, drawing out your orgasm as he chased after his. overstimulation had tears spilling from your eyes, clawing at his pecs as you sobbed. “ ‘s too much channie! hurts!”

“just a little more baby, clench round me like that aga— FUCK!” he lost himself in you, feeling your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him for all his worth as his orgasm washed over him.

in a desperate attempt, chan’s thrusts turned erratic as he pumped his load inside you. “s-so good,” he whimpered, hips stilling inside you as he softened. you groaned at the warmth, shutting your eyes in ecstasy.

you both were panting, bodies entwined in a soft caress. time seemed to still when lee chan looked into your eyes again, smiling like a lovesick puppy when you kissed him.

your mouth whined pathetically when he pulled out, falling to your side as he sighed. wanting to be close to him, you shuffled near him.

your fingers dropped down to your pussy as you tried to plug his cum inside you, moaning at the sensation of being so incredibly full and warm.

“that was… the best sex i’ve ever had, sheesh,” dino wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly close.

you brought your hand up to place on his sweaty chest, giggling as he kissed the top of your head. “better than prague?” you teased.

lee chan’s pecs tensed under your hold, as his eyes widened, staring at you in the dark. “what— who told you about that!” he exclaimed, ears dusted pink.

“seungcheol’s very easy to gossip with,” you winked, staring up at his pretty face. “wow… i can’t believe this hyung,” he grumbled, hearing you laugh.

“hey! this only happened because i was thinking about everything you did to that poor girl,” you smacked his muscle, hearing him wince. “why were you so feral that night, lee chan?” you voiced your question out loud.

he sucked in a breath as his grip tightened around your shoulder. “you really want to know?”

“i’m dying from curiosity,” you mused. with a sigh, chan turned his head to face you fully, meeting your eyes in the moonlight, before he whispered out an answer.

“she had the same name as you.”

© nachojaehyun, 2024

[aliteralsemicolon]

Yours - 18+

Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked. 

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true. 

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it. 

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you. 

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register. 

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed. 

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper. 

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway. 

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?” 

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again. 

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.” 

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you. 

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze. 

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos. 

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much. 

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy. 

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound. 

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered. 

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with. 

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other. 

Almost. 

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk. 

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself. 

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his. 

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort. 

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.” 

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up. 

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” 

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles. 

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again. 

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply. 

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth. 

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin. 

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him. 

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest. 

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine. 

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees. 

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek. 

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently. 

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling. 

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting. 

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane. 

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you. 

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head. 

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace. 

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible. 

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other. 

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh. 

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts. 

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!” 

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner. 

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.” 

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out. 

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t” 

You can’t hold on any longer. 

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…” 

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?” 

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible. 

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face. 

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out. 

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.” 

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash. 

“Good girl.” 

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with. 

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way. 

But Spencer does. 

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable. 

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.” 

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at. 

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm. 

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?” 

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you. 

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose. 

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again. 

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?” 

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?” 

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person. 

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.” 

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence. 

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf. 

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone. 

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too. 

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume. 

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” 

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!” 

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up. 

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” 

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know. 

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!” 

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile. 

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him. 

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!” 

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.  

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.” 

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait. 

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her. 

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now. 

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost. 

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours. 

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality. 

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement. 

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡