#but the way the debate was framed (at least that I saw)

[master-gatherer]

I just remembered when I was in high school was also the big debate about having a morning prayer at school. Like people were arguing to have, in addition to the pledge of allegiance, to have like five minutes of group prayer before the school day starts in public school. And others were arguing to not have that, because it's public school and there's a separation of church and state, and also we shouldn't be taking time away from learning. And as a compromise, they were trying to have like a silent five minutes so that the kids that weren't religious could lay their heads down or w/e while the rest of the kids prayed.

Because, you know.

All the kids are super eager to pray, at all.

Especially teenagers. It wasn't like most teens were w/e on what church they went to except for the real hardcore religious ones that prayed regardless of school sanction or not.

[zepskies]

'Twas the Night...

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.    

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa gift for @eldritchlibertine! The idea is based on this request from @whichwitchwanda (a story prompted from the header image).

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff! Christmas feels. ❤️

A door burst open, and your eyes raised from the page. You nearly dropped your book into your lap when you saw it—the wide, bristled top of an evergreen tree trying to shove its way through the door of the bunker.

Or rather, it only seemed that way.

All the way up at the top of the rod iron staircase, grumbled cursing and muttering and arguing filtered down to you in the common room, where you were leaning back in your seat with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. You sat up, an incredulous smirk beginning to curve your lips.

“Dean, it’s not gonna fit.” That was Sam, obviously. You’d recognize his testy bitching anywhere.

“You kiddin’ me? All that work I spent sawing this thing outta the ground, I’m gonna damn well make it fit. Come on, put your big boy pants on.”

The equally familiar gruff, grousing tone of your man’s voice almost made you snort. You set down the book on the table and debated whether you were going to get up and try to help, or let them hash it out. You were surprised they hadn’t called out for you yet.

After a few more seconds of listening to their frustrated huffing and puffing, you shook your head and got up. You reached the top of the stairs, and their sounds of irritated, breathless struggle became even clearer.

“Dean,” Sam protested.

“Shut up. I’ve almost got it…”

“You’re gonna break the damn frame—”

“Something tells me you didn’t get this thing at Home Depot,” you remarked.

There was a pause, and Dean called your name questioningly. He also sounded a bit embarrassed.

“Yep, I’m here, Chevy Chase,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the branches that were stuck in the doorway. You bent them at the angle the guys needed to get the whole thing inside, and all too quickly you had to step out of the way as Sam and Dean broke through the doorway with the rest of the tree.

Sam caught himself on the wall, while Dean threw a hand out to grasp at the railing of the stairs. You grabbed Dean’s arm to help steady him. Once he had his feet planted, he slung an arm around your waist and looked down on you with a satisfied smile—one that he then aimed at Sam.

“See? Told you it would fit.”

“Where did you even get this thing?” you asked. You eyed Dean in curiosity, even as you were helping him stream the lights around this seven-foot monstrosity. You’d also taken great delight in putting on some holiday music. Now, Frank Sinatra’s “White Christmas” was playing from a Bluetooth speaker on the War Room table.

Dean shot you a distracted smile as he worked in concentration, bringing a string of lights around the part of the tree that was closest to the wall. He handed off the other end to you, and you wrapped the line of multicolored lights around.

“Eh, there’s a nice bit of forest a few miles out of town,” he said. Your brows raised high. You’d suspected, of course, but you still shook your head with a smile.  

“You know you need a permit for that, right?” you said.

“I tried to tell him,” said Sam. He was on his way up the stairs, heading out back to the car to get the box of ornaments he and Dean bought at Walmart this morning along with the pretty multicolored lights, all while you were still sleeping.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but just kept focused on his task. Once he started something, he had to finish it, you noticed. And when he got into something, he was Mr. DIY, putting in his all. You liked watching the crunch between his brows, the set of his lips, the sureness of his hands while he mentally calculated what they were going to accomplish next.

Most of all, you liked the look of self-satisfaction when he was done, and happy with his finished product. It didn’t matter if he was tuning up the Impala, making a home-cooked meal for the three of you, or decorating a wild tree. That face was the same. 

“Illegally obtained tree aside,” you said, not bothering to temper your smile, “I thought you guys didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Or any holidays, for that matter.”

Dean gave you a small grin, though again, he seemed a little embarrassed. He freed one of his hands to scratch at the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…weren’t you the one who was talking about the Christmases you had growing up?” he said.

You blinked, your mouth gently falling open in surprise. That had been a couple weeks ago, when the first snow of December began to fall over Lebanon. Late that night, after settling into bed together, you’d turned towards him in his arms. Maybe it was the turn of the season making you nostalgic, but somehow the conversation drifted into you making a confession, about what you missed the most about your family.

Your parents had passed on, and your sister was distant. She had her own family and her own life, and she wanted to keep it far away from the things you hunted. You couldn’t blame her, even if the thought of her always pierced your heart.

Beyond than that, what you missed was the house where you grew up, small but cozy and lived in. You missed the smell of pine and cinnamon that filled the living room every day of December. You missed the nights you and your sister curled up by the fire late at night playing imaginary games, long after your parents’ had put you guys to bed. You missed your mother’s cooking, and helping her bake molasses cookies on Christmas Eve.

You missed togetherness, the feeling of warmth and safety.

You tilted your head at Dean.

“Yeah, but…” you trailed, not willing to finish the thought as another suspicion grew in your mind.

“Just thought we could do some of that this year for you, that’s all,” he said. And he shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. His hands were busy untangling some lights. “Matter of fact, we could all use the time off.”

You couldn’t help but pause. Your breathing shallowed, and no matter how much you fought it, tears stung in your eyes. You bit your lip to try and hold it all at bay. When Dean glanced up at you, he had to do a double take. It made you smile, despite your slightly blurring vision.

“Hey, what—”

You dropped your end of the lights and went to him. You raised up on your toes so you could wrap your arms around his neck in a warm hug. Dean uttered a surprised huff, but his arms came around your waist and gathered you closer. He soon realized he was still holding onto the tangle of lights, and he hung them on a nearby tree branch for now. His smile overtook his surprise and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I love you. You know that right?” Your voice was muffled in his neck, but he heard you well enough. He chuckled and slipped a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I do know, actually,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

A giggle escaped you. You tugged on his short hair in retaliation, making him chuckle.

“Hey,” he warned, but it had heat of a different kind. His hand began venturing down to your ass, but before he could do some retaliating of his own, a door swung open and Sam came down the stairs hefting a couple different boxes of ornaments.

He raised a brow, though he smiled at the way you and his brother were entwined. You half pulled away to nod at Sam, sniffling at quickly wiping at your face. Dean dried some of the wetness from the corner of your eye with a curled finger. You glanced up at him and couldn’t help blushing, smiling, despite your embarrassment.

Dean still had an arm wrapped around your waist as you peered over at the boxes Sam set down near the tree. One of them caught your attention and made your eyes widen.

“Oh my God. They’re Scooby Doo themed!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby echoing throughout the common room. After you made a trip to the grocery store, soon the smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and rich molasses joined the scent of pine throughout the entire bunker.

It was a Christmas Eve well spent. The night was filled with a rewatch marathon of Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. You agreed to Dean throwing in Elf into the mix, as long as you got to watch Love Actually, and The Holiday with Jude Law. Dean complained more than Sam about your girly chick-flicks, but he became just as invested in Colin Firth pouring his heart out in mangled Portuguese to Aurelia as you were, if less teary-eyed.

When The Holiday came around though, he was half asleep as he laid sprawled across your lap and the couch. Your nails gently massaging his scalp nearly did him in, along with Sam’s heavy-ass pour of eggnog. It was tradition, at this point.

By the end of the movie marathon, you were the one snoozing from your corner of the couch, your hand still in Dean’s hair.

He carried you to bed that night, your eyelids heavy as you teetered back and forth between slumber and the waking world. At least you were already in your pajamas. All he had to do was tuck you under the sheets on your side of the bed, then slip in behind you afterwards.

His arm draped around your waist, and you curled towards him, half on instinct as you let out a deep breath. Dean smiled as you settled against his chest. Your soft snores soon greeted his ears. Only then did he let himself rest…

Just not for long.

You woke earlier than you planned to in the morning, mainly because your man pillow was no longer beside you. You reached out a hand and found Dean’s side of the bed empty and cold, the covers pulled back. With a frown, you opened bleary eyes and checked your phone. It was around the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m.

What the hell was Dean doing up at the crack of dawn?

Unless… You paused as your memory served you a grim reminder. Unless he’d had a rough night, kept up by memories and dreams he didn’t always want to talk to you about. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back to bed after a few hours with the heady smell of bourbon on him.

You got up with a sigh, rolling your neck as you did so. You just wanted to check on him. Maybe you could even persuade him to come back to bed.

You threw on a sweater over your pajamas and some fluffy slippers Sam bought you for your birthday—all to shield you from the bunker’s chilly air and ice-cold floors. You’d have to remind Dean to check on the heater.

You padded out of the bedroom and down the long hall…and became distracted by the Christmas tree in the common room. It really was beautiful all lit up. The lights softly flashed in green, red, purple, and gold. Traditional red and gold ornaments hung beside the Scooby Doo themed ones, with Fred and Daphne front and center, along with the rest of the gang scattered throughout.

And then you found Dean.

“Damn it…friggin’ piece of shit ribbon…” 

Dean’s muttering drew your attention to his hunched figure kneeling at the base of the tree. Your head tilted in wonder as your face broke out into a smile. What the hell is he doing? You tried to be light on your feet as you approached him from behind. Peering over his shoulder, you could almost see what he was trying do with some shiny red wrapping paper and a big golden bow.

Your heart swelled. Had he really gotten you and Sam something for Christmas too? He didn’t need to get you anything…

Dean’s hunter reflexes must’ve been tingling though, because suddenly he sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw you standing there in your pajamas, arms crossed over your robe.

He actually jolted, muttering a curse as he tried to cover up what he was doing.

“What’cha doin’, babe?” you asked. Your eyes gleamed with amusement.

Dean tried to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray ribbon. He careened back onto his ass and knocked into the tree. Not only did its branches poke into his face and arm, making him wince, but he managed to displace a couple of ornaments, sending them tumbling to the floor by his hand. He grunted and raised up onto his forearms. For the pièce de résistance, that lovely golden bow landed right in his lap.

With raised brows, you took in the sight of your man—all bedraggled and looking sheepish (and adorable) as hell. Your hand went up to cover your mouth, but you were unable to quiet the giggle that bubbled up and escaped your lips.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You glanced down at the bow, almost perfectly placed in his lap.

“Hey,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

You lowered down to kneel in front of him, and you took his face in your gentle hands before you leaned in for a sweet, sensuous kiss. Dean breathed into it. Your eyes shut along with his as you savored the moment, and him.

When you parted, your smile remained as you fingered the shiny edge of the bow. Dean began to smirk as well, despite how warm his face had gotten. His big hands found their way to your hips, welcoming you when you took a comfortable seat over his thighs.

You whispered against his lips, “I already know which present I’m gonna unwrap first.” 

AN: Lol there we go, a cheeky ending for you! Let me know if you liked this! ❤️💚

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[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓞FF-LIMITS!　˒˒　SL

─── ﹙🎧﹚your sister, daniela, has always told her friends to back off of you, no matter what, telling them you're supposedly "off-limits." however, while intoxicated, you and sophia kiss each other, leaving tension burning between the two of you—until the next time you visit your family alongside dani's members.

pairing. sophia laforteza x f!r genre. fluff wc. 2.5k+ notes. 4 @secretcessy >< & karina from aespa mention + for the lore dani isn't an only child 🤗!!!! made ts way too long oops. ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ les by childish gambino

LYING ON YOUR BED OF YOUR DORM ROOM shared with one of your friends, incessant notifications blaring from your phone abruptly interrupts you from your nap. you huff at the irritating sound, unlocking your phone swiftly, only to be met by series of notifications from your sister.

fuck.

god was she oddly skilled at being annoying and bothersome. raising your eyebrows, you rub your eyes, trying to focus on her texts, as they merely appeared to be random blobs of words in-between. your thumbs hover over the keyboard, debating on how to respond to her.

plopping your phone on your bed, you huff, sitting up in a fetal position. "guess it's time to start packing," you murmur under your breath, before getting up.

you knew daniela was right—per usual, as much as you hated to admit it. it'd been at least a few months since you last saw her and roughly a year since both you and daniela were with your family at one time. maybe it wouldn't be so bad being back home with daniela.

grunting, you begrudgingly pull your closet door open, dragging whichever luggage you saw first. accidentally slamming the closet door too loudly to your roommate's taste, you hear words in scorn being hollered from across the dorm.

"stop closin' the doors so loudly!" you hear your roommate snort, as she leans against the door frame, a toothy grin tugging the corners of her lips.

"fine, whatever, jimin," you mutter in response, rolling your eyes, as the korean girl watches your face distort into one of disdain, making her giggle.

"what are you even packing for? the break just started," karina raises her eyebrows, "you like, never have anything to do for break." she teases, her arms crossing against her chest, before she saunters over to you.

"got forced by dani to visit our family," you shrug, as karina clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

"you need to pack better; you're folding your clothes too big to fit enough outfits into your suitcase," she critiques, a chuckle escaping her breath, as her hands reach over to some of your clothes, folding them compactly.

you nudge her playfully, "c'mon! give me a break, i just got told i have to visit by dani!" you dramatically sigh, leaning against the wall.

"at least she's paying for your flight, right?" karina shrugs, as her movements are precise while helping you pack, nudging you on the shoulder, "maybe you'll meet somebody new while visiting—somebody who'll deal with your impulsive decisions," she teases.

to your surprise, rather than the visit consisting of you and daniela, it was the two of you and her members. you had only realized once you entered your parents' house, a luggage being dragged by your hand, and there were five other girls besides daniela sat on the couch, all chattering.

it wasn't like you weren't acclimated to hanging out with them; they were somewhat your friends too, but mainly through daniela. the only girl you'd known out of the bunch was sophia—mainly because, the first time you guys partied together with dani and everybody else, all drunk and hammered, the two of you kissed.

to be truthful, you could remember that moment vividly, the memory still clear as day to you—the way her hands cupped your jaw all snug and secure, to the way a wide grin played on her face. and to be even more truthful, right after that moment, you held an irrevocable affinity for her, leaving you in an odd predicament.

you awkwardly wave, hoping sophia coincidentally forgot about that low moment in time, before dani suddenly gets up, parading you around.

you nudge the latina playfully, a groan erupting from her throat, as your eyebrows furrow, "when did you guys even arrive? it's only like 10 in the mornin'!"

"we just wanted to be early," she shrugs, her arms instantly reaching towards your luggage, "c'mon, i'll get you settled down! i have so much shit to tell you, y'know."

you nod, a giggle escaping your breath, as you let the latina lead you to your guys' old bedroom, while her members continued to chatter, teasing insults thrown every few moments.

your eyes scan across your old bedroom, a sigh driving from your lips "shit, it's been a while, hasn't it?" a sense of nostalgia hitting you, as you recall all the times you've argued with dani over your guys' room and who "owns" which side.

the blonde-haired girl nods, her arm wrapping around your neck to your shoulder, as she leans into you, mumbling, "yeah, it sure has been."

a giggle escapes your breath, as you unlock your suitcase, unpacking some of your clothes out. "where's mom and dad anyway?"

"they went grocery shopping—wanted to go all out this year since we're visiting at the same time with the rest, too," daniela meekly replies, as she helps you pack, a hint of a teasing smile playing on her face. pulling out a book, a series of laughs escapes her breath, "no fuckin' way!"

"what—i have studying to do 'cause you made me book a flight last minute!" you retaliate, nudging the girl playfully, as you huff.

"okay, fine, fine! that was uncalled for," daniela begrudgingly admits, as she continues to help you unpack.

while you two work on getting everything out of your luggage, dani drops random, interesting facts from drama that often leave your jaw dropped. at one point, you couldn't help but wonder where daniela gets all this information from. giggles escape your guys' room, bouncing off the walls.

"anyway, we plan on just hangin' out and stuff, then dinner with mom and dad," the latina lists out the agenda, as you two finish unpacking.

you nod, "good, good. just, y'know, i've barely met your friends."

"you'll like them—i can guarantee you that," dani chuckles, as she spots a gift-box with a small tag reading "for: daniela," sitting in the corner of your suitcase, a mischievous smile painting her face.

"no fuckin' way!" the latina exclaims, immediately pulling you in for a hug with her ring-clad hand holding firmly onto the gift-box, "seriously!"

you nod, a grin playing on your face, "what kind of sister would i be if i didn't wanna celebrate your new album!"

"you missed me, didn't you?" she teases, prodding at your cheek, as she flicks your forehead next. you retaliate, nudging her shoulder.

"as if, loser."

sprawled out on your bed with books accompanying you, you cradle a textbook in your lap, tapping against your sheets while fidgeting with your fingers. your head pounds with tension, as you card a hand through your hair.

fuck, in no shape or form were you gonna be able to read all of these pages in time for your finals.

you rub your temples before simultaneously reading over the textbook and typing in small summaries of each section on your laptop, humming to the hushed audio of your spotify in the background.

hearing your door click open, your head snaps to that direction, meeting a familiar face. in your sight stood sophia laforteza scanning you as well. you raise your eyebrows, confusion noticeably washing over your features.

"do you need anything?" you murmur, your voice barely audible, as your eyes scrutinize her features and attire, your demeanor now awkward—especially with the way she looked effortlessly drop-dead gorgeous.

heat subtly curls at your cheeks, as you wait for the filipino girl to answer, sophia equally as confused.

"sorry, i was trying to look for the bathroom, and dani said it was down the hall," sophia tries to explain, shifting her weight to one foot.

"yeah, 's further down the hall—a door down the hall, actually," you point to down the hall from your bed, before returning to your crammed-in studying habits.

"y/n, right?" the filipino asks, a small, awkward smile tugging at the corners of her lips. she leans against the door-frame, no longer meekly standing.

you nod, "mhm. didn't you need to go to the bathroom though?" you murmur, barely sparing the girl another glance.

sophia mumbles an inaudible curse under her breath. "you're right," she says flatly, before muttering out a swift apology and gingerly closing your door.

what a weird interaction, you thought. nonetheless, you presume on cranking open your textbook, huffing at seeing big blobs of texts that you felt disdain reading.

meanwhile, with sophia's back plastered against the bathroom wall, she grunts inaudibly under her breath, sinking down to the tiled floor. god, how could she be so infatuated by you, a girl who barely paid her any mind? the filipino girl could feel her head twisting with tension from your lack of response.

fuck was she crazily awestruck for you.

and so, for the next few days of the visit, sophia couldn't help but feel her self-control slipping rapidly, despite daniela's repetitive warning that you, in particular, were "off-limits."

the filipino girl tosses and turns while lying on the guest room's bed, eventually settling back to her back plastered against the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. constantly, the same embarrassing moment of you two kissing while drunk taints her mind, flickering in it every few seconds. rubbing her temples and eyes in hopes every single little thought including you would dissipate, she sits up.

"she's your best friend's sister—what are you doing?" the thought soon sounding like a bunch of random words strung together.

looking to her sides, sophia notices the rest were all knocked out, hushed snores escaping their lips. to her left, lara and manon were fast asleep, while to her right, megan and yoonchae were sound asleep as well, their laptop still blaring cartoons.

the filipino girl takes one last look around, before she stood up, gingerly opening and shutting the door. her eyes scan the hallways, as she tip-toes to your room.

you hear faint, soft knocks against your wooden door, and crinkling your eyes almost like crescent moons, you reluctantly get up. cracking the door open just a bit, your eyes widen at the sight of the filipino girl standing.

"jesus—it's 1 in the mornin'," you whisper-shout, as you open the door completely, shock and frustration littering your featured. you motion your hands forwards and backwards, beckoning the girl to rush in.

"my bad, pretty," her newfound confidence makes your heart skip, as your cheeks flush. she gives you teasing glances, her slight giggle reaching your ears.

in disbelief, you mumble, "what—"

"please? i know we kissed, when we were drunk; don't tell me we didn't," the filipino girl desperately whispers, her gaze softening at your lips. throwing you an ear-to-ear smile, sophia's eyes flicker to your shoulder, a subtle, non-verbal signal, as you nod.

her arms entangle themselves around your waist, earning a muffled curse from you. her fingers trace your back gently, almost cautious to not be too prying towards you.

"just, a few seconds longer," sophia whispers against your ear, and you couldn't help but feel your resolve crumble, knowing that you, yourself, wanted the filipino girl to stay, too.

"we- we're going to get caught; dani's gonna know you're down here," you warn, cautious to get caught with your sister's best friend in your bedroom. however, your words deeply betray your actions, as your arms were on autopilot, wrapping around the girl's neck.

"what's so bad 'bout that? c'mon, ease up—just a bit," sophia coaxes, her touch gentle and soft against your waist, as she draws patterns.

"is it really worth the risk?" you tilt your head, barely able to hold back a chuckle at how careless the filipino girl was. your eyes linger on her face, making her softly hum.

sophia sighs before grinning, "you're worth more than getting scolded by dani," she drawls out, her face full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder how her words make your knees weaken a bit.

she had you pressing your lips together, fighting back between a smile like a high school girl. one of her hands moves to interlace itself with one of yours, the delicate feeling of her thumbs brushing up against your knuckles leaving you melted.

"maybe, i guess you're right," you admit begrudgingly, pausing before continuing, "but- i mean, don't you think 's a little reckless? you're gonna be busy promoting with the girls at one point."

the filipino girl meekly shrugs, before swiftly mumbling, "it's worth the fun—you know that, and i know that. promise i'll have time for you."

the sincerity laced in her words only made your blood rush and chains of shivers rush down your spine. maybe—just maybe—this wasn't just a fleeting moment to her, not just something to have fun with, and was more so, something sophia wanted to hold onto, for eternity.

"what if we're not ready? what if-" you murmur, making sophia break into a small pout at your words, before she cuts you off.

"i could never be willing to let you go anyway," the filipina whispers, searching for reassurance in your gaze. she nods, her thumb brushing against your cheek, as you eased under her touch.

"and besides, there's just somethin' about you—something i can't figure out. yet, it makes everything with you special."

and for the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless by her pure bluntness—the way she said everything that could make heat curl at your cheeks even more, in meek sentences.

"fuck, sophia," you mumble against the crook of the filipina's neck, before continuing, "i- fine, just, we can't tell dani—not yet."

sophia gives you a slight nod, as her hands find its way to your hair, entangling them, "yeah- yeah, whatever you want—just tell me your boundaries."

locking eyes with her, the prominent sense of familiarity and comfort in her gaze makes your knees buckle, the girl practically giving you heart-eyes.

"can i?" the filipina asks, her voice light-hearted and gentle. you nod, almost eagerly before sophia leans in, closing the gap between you two. her plush lips immediately crash against yours, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. it was as though she was ready for this moment—ready to gain redemption from the first kiss.

you shudder against her kisses, as you guys pull away—only to catch your guys' breath. before you could continue, a muffled, low voice blares through the hallways.

"sophia? are you still in the kitchen?" daniela calls out, trying to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the rest. the latina couldn't help but be suspicious and skeptical due to how long sophia supposedly spent at the kitchen.

both of you still in your movements, her hands resting on her chest to gently push her away. a cheeky smile plays on sophia's grin before she whispers against your ears.

"that's my cue to go," she plants a haste kiss against your cheek, then to your forehead gently. her eyes scan your waist that was snaked with her arms around it, as she reluctantly slides them off—the girl evidently disappointed at having to leave so soon.

"bye, pretty."

we're kissing in the bathroom, girl, and, uh

i hope nobody catch us

taglist. ୨ৎ @lararajjj @kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @ilomilosblue

@jellaaa @artrizzler19 @falling-intoo-deep

[cardansriddle]

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little &lt;3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour. 

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside. 

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet— 

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it. 

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle. 

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind. 

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left. 

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer. 

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised." 

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this." 

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine." 

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers. 

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to. 

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book. 

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done." 

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped. 

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. 

Tom placed the book on the counter. 

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader." 

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat. 

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality." 

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum." 

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse." 

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse." 

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say. 

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface. 

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September. 

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin. 

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened. 

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze. 

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind. 

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her. 

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed. 

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink. 

It was maddening. 

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination. 

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there. 

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling. 

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration. 

“It’s five minutes until closing time.” 

She would not be swayed so easily then. 

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses. 

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.” 

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.” 

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.” 

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf. 

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.” 

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster. 

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk." 

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed. 

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. 

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances." 

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology." 

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like. 

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. 

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her. 

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see. 

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat. 

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them. 

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight. 

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to. 

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

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[crownofgildedlilies]

mistletoe

pairing: hanta x reader summary: Hanta has an incredible amount of mistletoe, for some reason. wc: 1.9k event masterlist

There was something going on in the dorms, and you were pretty sure you knew who was to blame. 

Mistletoe littered the doorways of the common areas, but only when you were in the area. You never saw anyone placing them, or actually using the mistletoe for its intended purpose, but you knew everyone was getting suspicious. Fingers were going to start pointing, and all at the same target.

Because each sprig of mistletoe was stuck to the door frame with a very familiar piece of tape. 

You weren’t stupid. You knew that the only person who could have been hanging up all the mistletoe could have been Hanta, but you hadn’t recognized the pattern until Mina had pointed it out to you.

“You know, this only keeps happening when you’re around,” She had teased, eyeing the bundle of leaves and berries taped conspicuously above the doorframe you had been only seconds away from crossing under. Narrowing your eyes at her, you questioned her intention without using your words. 

“C’mon, we’re going to be late for class!” Kirishima’s shout had broken your stare from your silent conversation with Mina. Not willing to confront the accusation she had thrown your way, you hurried through the doorframe so as not to be late for class. 

You tried your very hardest not to look at Hanta standing oh so innocently on the opposite side of the doorway, unless he saw the flush that crept up your neck. 

That had only been the third time mistletoe had mysteriously appeared. Currently, you were staring up at the eleventh sprig of holiday greenery, taped above the archway that led from the kitchens to the common area. 

Part of you wanted to step underneath it, to see just what Hanta would do if you finally fell for the horribly planned coincidences he had laid out throughout the dorm building. He had tried setting it up once in the classroom, which led to a lecture from Aizawa about romantic endeavors distracting from the goal of attending UA.

“Aw, man, more mistletoe?” Kirishima’s voice echoed loudly through the slowly filling common areas. Your attention snapped towards him and away from the mistletoe, watching as he, Kaminari, and Bakugou returned after getting in extra quirk training. Hanta was lingering in the kitchen, casually darting his attention towards you repeatedly as you debated whether or not to cross underneath the hastily taped up sprig of green leaves, and half a dozen of your other classmates lounged on the couch within earshot. 

“It was up when I got downstairs,” You answered, snickering as Mina and Ochaco poked their heads up over the back of the couch to listen in to your conversation. The two of them, along with Hagakure, had been the most interested in figuring out just why so much mistletoe littered the dorms. 

“Give it up.” Bakugou pinned his glare on Hanta, who suddenly found the ceiling entirely interesting. Except, all eyes in the room darted towards Hanta, watching him carefully. No one, at least when you had been around, had actually called out Hanta for placing the mistletoe, though it was a bit of an open secret. 

“Of course you’re against holiday spirit, Scrooge,” You playfully rolled your eyes at Bakugou, finding yourself defending Hanta without really even meaning to. You liked seeing the mistletoe, even if you hadn’t let yourself get stuck under it with anyone, just yet. 

“Tch. ‘M not a Scrooge.” Bakugou defended, which led to a round of arguments from nearly everyone in the room. Hanta, usually one to call Bakugou out, remained suspiciously silent. Turning towards him with a frown, you saw the distracted look on his face and stepped towards him with the intention of asking what was wrong.

“Wait!” Mina and Ochaco’s shouts tore through the room, freezing you in place as you whipped around to stare at them perched over the couch. Except, they were grinning so wide it made you nervous—especially because they were staring at you. 

“What’s wrong?” Kaminari asked from beside you. Ochaco let out a giggle, Kirishima muttering a quiet oh shit, and you turned to face Kaminari with wide eyes.

He was standing beside you. Underneath the mistletoe.

You hadn’t even noticed him cross the room until he was beside you, and in your rush to comfort Hanta after Bakugou’s teasing you both stepped underneath the mistletoe. 

On instinct, in response to Bakugou’s loud laughter echoing throughout the space and Mina’s claim that you just had to kiss, you shoved Kaminari away like he repelled you. 

“Hey!” He whined, clutching his chest like your push had done actual damage. “It wouldn’t be that bad to kiss me!” 

“It’s just mistletoe,” Hanta spoke up for the first time since everyone had arrived. He’d remained silent even through Bakugou’s teasing, but now that you were faced with the possibility that you might kiss Kaminari, one of his best friends, he suddenly had a lot to say. “You don’t have to do it.” 

“You were just complaining about me being a Scrooge,” Bakugou countered Hanta’s reasoning, a teasing smirk on his face. Clearly he was enjoying this a little too much. Rolling your eyes, you glanced back up to the mistletoe before landing your attention back down on Hanta. 

“Bakugou, man,” Kirishima shot his friend a look, and you suddenly knew that all the boys were already aware of Hanta’s attempts to get you underneath the mistletoe. Kirishima was trying to get Bakugou to lay off, but the blond was nothing if not a grade A shit stirrer.

“Holiday spirit,” Mina repeated, a smirk on her own face. You narrowed your eyes at her, silently willing her to not encourage whatever Bakugou was trying to accomplish. “I say you do it.” 

And suddenly there was a chant of Kiss! Kiss! echoing through the common floor, started by and maintained mostly by the girls of your class. You couldn’t see her, but you heard Hagakure joining in from somewhere. 

Your face was flushing, you couldn’t look at Hanta, and all you wanted was the chanting stop. So, with quick steps, you closed the distance between you and Kaminari and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment, a split second of affection that could only be seen as something between friends. 

But when you finally found the courage to risk a glance to Hanta, he had already disappeared. 

Okay. Maybe you had taken it a step too far. 

It had been a few hours since your little stunt with Kaminari, and you hadn’t seen Hanta once in all that time. You had sucked up your pride and asked Kirishima where he’d gone off too, and discovered with a pang of guilt that he had apparently locked himself in his room.

You’d been having fun messing with Hanta about his ridiculous attempts to kiss you with mistletoe, even though all he needed to do was ask, but all of a sudden you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have gone so long without letting him know his feelings were reciprocated. 

You needed to set things straight before Hanta got the wrong idea. 

Finding the mistletoe hadn’t been a problem. You’d been collecting them each time Hanta had taped them up somewhere in the dorms, dropping them in a box in your room for a reason you couldn’t piece together. Though, you were thankful for your packrat tendencies as you grabbed a collection of the leaves and berries. 

Knocking on Hanta’s door, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation, listening for sounds on the other side. Part of you assumed that he would just ignore the knocking and go back to moping about in his room, or so Kirishima had said he was doing. 

To your luck, you heard movement on the opposite side of the door, and in seconds it was opened. Hanta leaned against the frame separating the hallway from his dorm, bracing his body up with one arm. The position forced him to lean closer, almost hovering over you with his tall frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, breaking the silence first and snapping your mind from spiraling as you thought about just how attractive he looked. Arms tucked behind your back, you scrambled to cling to the remains of your bravery that seemed to all shrivel up after boldly carrying you towards his door. 

“I, uh,” You stammered, forcing yourself to not glance away from him. He looked exactly like Kirishima had said. Like he’d been moping. “I don’t have any tape.” 

His face twisted in confusion, and you bit the inside of your cheek in reprimand for stumbling over your words. 

“You came here because you needed tape?” 

Oh, you were crashing. 

“No!” You hurried to correct your mistake, face warming with a blush you had no hope of fighting against. “I just, well, you always taped it up, but I don’t… Screw it.” 

Before you turned and ran with your tail tucked between your legs, you held out the sprig of mistletoe you’d brought as an apology.

Now, it was you and Hanta under the mistletoe.

“You don’t have to do this,” He repeated his earlier words, though instead of trying to encourage you, he sounded like he felt you were pitying him. 

“I know.” You assured him, meeting his eye and smiling softly. “I want to.”

“You… want to?”

“Yeah.” You chuckled, tilting your head to the side with a teasing grin. “I’ve known since the third attempt that you were trying to catch me under the mistletoe. And I thought it was cute.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His words came out as more of a groan, turning his face to the side in a futile attempt to hide his embarrassed flush.  

“I don’t know. Guess I was worried I was reading too much into things? But then you were so upset after I kissed Kaminari on the cheek that I figured that I should tell you how I felt. The mistletoe was a really sweet idea, especially with the holidays coming up.” As you explained, he turned back so that he was looking at you. And you hoped that he could hear the sincerity in your voice, too. “So, are you going to kiss me anytime soon? Because I don’t have tape and my arm is getting tired.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Both of his warm palms settled on your waist, tugging you flush against him. The arm that was holding the mistletoe fell to wrap around his shoulders, while your opposite hand found home flat against his chest. And suddenly, his lips were on yours, a kiss so long in the making you worried that you weren’t going to live up to expectations. 

Except, all your worries disappeared the moment he kissed you. You hated sounding cliche, but it felt like he was made for you. He met your every action, pulling you close and pushing against you all the same. 

He left you breathless when he finally pulled back, grinning down at you. You were glad he was finally back to normal, evidently satisfied that you had given him a kiss. With how wide he was smiling, how close he was holding you, you doubted he even remembered what happened with Kaminari. 

“I really wasn’t being subtle, was I?” Hanta asked, still beaming, and you couldn’t help but match his expression. 

“I’m surprised it took Bakugou that long to call you out,” Grinning, you slid the hand that was on his chest upwards so that both arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders. 

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” “Not as smoothly as just asking me out would have gone.”

[writtenbymoonflower]

Round

You hate your chubby cheeks and Sirius is deeply offended. Sirius Black x gn!reader. modern!au

cw: negative self talk, no specific body type but reader has a round face, swearing

1.1k words

You huffed as you took in your appearance, wishing you could blame the mirror, maybe it was warped, maybe it made you look different. But then your hand mirror would also be inaccurate, as well as the bathroom mirror, and store windows, or every reflective surface. You wished you could believe that level of delusion, but ultimately you were given over to facts, so you had to face the truth that your face just looked like that. 

You cruelly pinched at the flesh on your cheeks, under your eyes, and even around your jaw. You tried sucking in, then puffing out, but nothing made your face look defined in the way you desperately wanted. You just wished that your cheekbones had a little definition, but instead all you had was a round and puffy face. By now most people your age had dropped the baby weight in their cheeks, but you hadn’t, and no amount of contour or bronzer made them look sharper. You were still pinching at your face when your boyfriend walked in. 

“What’re you doin’ in here, dolly?” You dropped your hands like a child caught in the cookie jar, feeling caught.

“Nothin’” You said in quiet response. All Sirius did was hum before moving to stand behind you and lean over your shoulder, both of you in front of the mirror. You looked up to meet his eyes, but you weren’t able to him looking like he wanted to eat you alive, dropping eye contact almost instantly. He chuckled evilly. 

“Hm, so pretty.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he leaned over to kiss the same cheek you had scrutinized not seconds before and held in a wince. “Your cheek is all red, babydoll.” 

“Maybe you just make me flushed.” 

“No,” He laughed, “No baby, I know what that looks like, trust me. This is different. Besides, you look all sad.” He pouted when he said that, grabbing your face in one hand and kissing over more of your cheek before stepping away to sit on your bed. You swiveled in your chair to look at him. Well, at least be facing his direction, you kept your gaze strictly on your lap as you spoke.

“Siri?” You said hesitantly. 

“Yes, dolly?” He had pulled out his phone and was scrolling. 

“I- You know that surgery everyone’s getting? The face one?” 

“I think you’re gonna have to be more specific than that, dollface.” He still didn’t look up from his phone. 

“The cheek fat one. I-” You took a deep breath. “I think I want to get it.” That made him look up so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“What?” He laughed. You would feel insulted, but you knew that Sirius only laughed like that when he was shocked or upset, his eyes were wide as he searched for any sign of you pranking or messing with him. 

“It’s just a thought.” You instantly backpeddled “I just thought it might be worth thinking about.” You said sheepishly.

“Well it’s not.” He laughed again, clearly not finding it funny. “What put that shit in your head?” You felt defensive. 

“I just think my face is too round. I look like a blowfish or something.” You forced a laugh. 

“What? No?” He stood up from the bed and stepped over to you, crouching down to meet your eyes. Only after he saw your sad expression did he soften. 

“I just-” You debated the right words. “I just think I would look better if my cheeks were more hollow. There’s just so much-” You pinched at the flesh of your cheeks. “There’s so much fat on them, I look like Charlie Brown.” 

“Okay firstly, I don’t know who that is, but if they look like you I’m guessing they’re adorable.” You rolled your eyes. “Secondly, I love your face. It's my favorite. Stop being so mean to it.” 

“But you don’t know what it’s like." You whined. "Your face is perfect, all of you is.” And you meant it. Sirius always looked like he could be carved from marble. He had a perfectly structured face, gorgeous eyes framed by too-long-to-be-fair lashes, and inky black hair. He looked like a model on a bad day. On a good day you could barely bring yourself too look at him.

“Compliment taken.” He smirked, displaying his shiny and sharp canines. “But you aren’t giving yourself enough credit, gorgeous.” He looked so distraught, it didn’t suit him at all. He batted your cruel hands away from your cheeks to grab your face instead. “Just because your face is round doesn’t mean you are any less beautiful.” He said, sincerely. You tried to look down but his grip didn’t let you. “If I’m being honest actually, your cheeks are one of my favorite parts of you.” 

You scoffed at him. “You can’t be for real.” 

“I am, baby!” He argued. He started to pinch your cheeks, though much kinder than you were. “They’re so cute.” He pouted. “I know you don’t like them, and I don’t wanna draw attention to it if it’s gonna bother you,” He stood up, tilting your face up to look in his eyes, swimming with sympathy, love, and a hint of playfulness. “But, I think they’re fucking precious. I just wanna grab your little face every time I see you. You’re like a little cherub.” You laughed. It’s not the look you were going for, but the way he described it didn’t seem so bad, especially not when there was affection dripping from every word he spoke. 

“You’re really sweet.” Was all you could say, standing up to hug him. He accepted you greedily, squeezing you close to him.

“I wish you saw how gorgeous you are, baby.” He nuzzled into your neck. You thought you could cry.

“It’s okay, I know you love me, it’s enough.” You pulled away from his neck to look at him. 

“Yeah, at least for now.” He smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You kissed him back, hoping he could feel your gratitude. “Anyway,” He said when he pulled away. “There’s a practical advantage I really like.” He was all at once his usual wolfish self, giving you no time to question his meaning before speaking again. “More face for me to love.” He spun you both around, throwing you onto the bed and pinning you down before squishing your cheeks in his hands and sponging rapid-fire kisses all over your face. 

You let out an awful squeal of surprise. “Siri!” You giggled, barely able to speak between attacks. He looked at you hungrily before kissing you greedily, pulling a high-pitched whine from your throat.

“I think you like it too, dollface.”

[dicejpg]

You should have left a note - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: Five is ordered to kill his ex-commission partner. He doesn't want to.

Note: I made this really late at night. I would really appreciate requests for Five :)

(Not edited)

WORD COUNT: 1K

2nd POV:

Five peers down at the paper that bears your name, hands shaky. He was ordered by the Handler--just this morning--to terminate you for immediate extraction.

It’s been a year since you left Five since you left the Commission. He'd been rightfully frustrated since your abrupt departure. He didn't get a note, nor a goodbye. Sure, you two weren’t all that close as partners, but he at least deserved a warning, he thought.

He doesn't know how to feel about the idea of blowing your brains out with his M1935.

You’ve been gone for approximately a year, leaving no trace or hints as to where you may be. But, the Commission finally tracked you down to a small town in New Jersey, 1978.

When he arrives in front of your supposed living quarters, he is taken aback by the rundown apartment complex in front of him. A real shithole. Its bricks are chipped and sun-bleached, presumably from old age. Police sirens and gunshots are audible from a neighborhood away, giving away the unsafeness of the area.

It’s twelve o’ clock at night. Five quietly blinks up to your numbered room. If he remembers correctly from the paper, it's room 395. Third floor, second door to the left.

Your apartment is dark, gloomy. Five does not turn on the lights, not wanting to give away his existence. But, he assumes you’re not home anyways. Your job as a bartender at a rundown restaurant downtown would have you occupied for at least another hour.

He wonders through the confined living space, taking note of a few books scattered on the coffee table, and an unmade bed. There's a small pile of dishes in the sink, a pot and two bowls. There are no picture frames, or wall decor. The room is barren with no personality at all.

Five would not even know that you lived here from the looks of the place.

It smells like you though, he unwillingly notices. He finds it oddly comforting nostalgic.

He’s in the middle of examining some scattered papers on the ground when he hears the jingling of keys outside the door. Along with your whistling.

Five blinks behind a window curtain in no time at all, blood pumping fast. You must have gotten off early.

Your humming becomes more prominent as you enter your living space. The sound of keys being thrown on the kitchen counter makes Five jolt, but he still goes unnoticed.

You make no move to turn on the lights, so Five risks a glance at you.

Your head is blocked by the freezer door, but he notices your disheveled work attire. Some black slacks and an untucked white button down shirt. Your apron hangs on a hook by the door.

When the freezer door is closed, he notices your face. It's the same as when he last saw you, but with sadder eyes and dark eye-bags. His heart sinks, he starts feeling uncharacteristically torn.

He watches you crack open a frozen dinner meal and place it in the microwave. You roll your sleeves up to your elbows while you wait for the food to heat up. Five always thought you had nice, toned forearms. He stares at them, at you.

His eyes are intense, observing as you lean against the counter, stretching and running your fingers through your hair. He feels his stomach knot.

Five was definitely the wrong person for this job. He readys his gun quietly.

You freeze at the almost imperceptible sound of a gun clicking, slowly turning your head in Five's direction. He doesn't see the way your eyebrows furrow because he's fully behind the curtain again.

The microwave beeps quietly, but you make no move to retrieve your dinner.

The sound of footsteps approaching Five's hiding spot makes sweat bead on his forehead. He debates letting himself be caught, but decides against it. Five blinks behind you, aiming his gun.

But you've already kicked the thing out of his hands, fully expecting his maneuver. You tackle him to the ground, gripping his wrists and pinning his legs with yours. Not before kicking the gun far away, under the couch.

"God, of course they sent you, Five." You breathe, glaring down at him in dismay. "The Handler's such a sadistic- I mean, sending my own partner to kill me? Is she kidding?" You ramble is distress, cursing your ex-employer.

Five gazes up at you, swallowing thickly. He fights thoughtlessly against your grasp, but tries nothing else to get loose. He does not want to kill you.

"Let go of me." He warns, feeling fuzzy and not knowing what else to say. His eyes never leave yours.

"Why don't you just blink away? You're fully capable of getting out of this." You accuse, getting close to his face. Your breath tickles his nose. It's minty.

Five hesitates, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he fails to regain his train of thought.

He remains quiet.

"You don't really want to kill me." Your grip on his wrists falters slightly when he doesn't object.

He softly pulls his wrists free, and you let him sit up. But you keep his legs pinned just in case. There is a strangely comfortable silence as you wait for Five to find the words.

"You should have just told me you were going to leave." Five whispers finally. His tone is unreadable. "Or at least left a note."

You look at him with a pained expression. "You're right. I should have." It's something you regretted for months after abandoning him. There is an intake of breath right before you add: "I missed uh- I miss you." You redden, not looking at him.

He exhales with a hidden smile. "Me too."

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.3 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. switch!hobie. switch!reader. missionary. save a horse ride a cowboy. using cum as lube. hobie being a tease. after your time in the bathroom, it's hard to deny your feelings for hobie. it's even harder to deny when hobie shows up on your doorstep.

Hobie Brown liked you.

He liked you from the very moment he met you. You were responsible, respectable, with enough sense in that brain of yours to last the both of you. You were quiet yet not shy and willing to speak your mind when need be. You were mean but in a nice way, in a way that really showed you cared more than you ever wanted to let on. He might have liked that most about you. Or it would be your lips that he liked the most. After all, he’s finally gotten a taste of them twice now.

You and Hobie met at a party through Riri. She had introduced you two and you had given him a once over and, looking rather unimpressed, dismissed him in the most polite way you possibly could. Hobie thought you to be prissy and stuck up and was ready to dismiss you as well as just that until he saw you glancing at him throughout the night, always within view of him. He knew you liked him right away, simply playing, or convincing yourself, that you didn’t. He thought it was cute. 

You were avoiding him again. More so than before. According to your other shared friends, you weren’t even leaving your apartment. You didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Hobie on the street and being forced to confront your undeniable feelings right then and there.

But you had to talk about what happened eventually…right? You would have to talk to him eventually.

Would flowers be appropriate? Would they make you more upset? Imply something that was never there in the first place? Or would they soothe the undoubted rage you would feel upon seeing Hobie at your door when all you wanted was to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn't need him coming in and stirring shit up but Hobie wouldn't be himself if he didn't stir the pot just a little.

Hobie decided no flowers, not yet, you weren't ready for something like that. It would send you into a spiral, turn you off to any idea of simply talking to him.

He stood at your door for approximately 10 minutes, simply debating if disturbing you would be worth it. Hobie had the chance to make things a whole lot worse but also the chance to remedy your pain and confusion. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to make things better between the two of you. So he knocked, nervous for one of the few times in his life.

It was clear you didn't expect him to be at your doorstep when you opened the door. Your bored gaze widened into something of surprise, or maybe that’s fear he was seeing. You didn't hesitate to try and close the door on him but Hobie stuck his boot between the door and the frame to stop you. “Wai’, wai’, sunshine please, hol’ on.” He pleaded softly, sticking his hand through the crack to pry the door open but you had a surprising amount of strength.

“Could you stop fucking calling me that? It’s stupid and annoying.” Your words hold a bitter taste to them. Your lips are pressed into a firm scowl as you look at him. Your hands balled into fist pinned to your sides. “Why are you here, Hobie? I’m not feeling well” You let out a feeble cough to punctuate your point. It’s unconvincing even to you.

Hobie leaned against your doorframe and looked at you with those heavy-set eyes you found yourself thinking about far too often. “Ya haven’ been answerin’ ma calls.” His voice was soft compared to yours. It makes you feel a bit ridiculous for being so angry. But your anger was righteous; you had every justifiable reason to be upset.

“When do I ever answer your calls?”

“Touché.” Hobie tried to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, shifting his gaze to the side. But — God — if only you knew how anxious he was to speak to you. His mouth ran dry and his palms, usually cool, where now hot and clammy. “But we still need t’ chat. Don' wan’cha goin’ ‘round thinkin’ I was just tryna get off or somethin’.” 

You’re colder than usual to him, scoffing at his every word. Hobie was starting to think you might actually hate him. But if he’s right, and he nearly always is, you like him far more than you want to let on, you always have. This was all denial, a front, a way to protect your fragile world view and delicate self-image.

You turn yourself away from him, eyes shifting, head low. You don’t want to talk. Is it so hard to just be left alone?

Hobie could see you were shutting down. “Look– I’m no’ ‘ere to tell ya who ya are and who ya aren'. ‘M jus’ here fo’ support.” He was gentle, his lips twitched into a half-hearted smile, trying to be friendly and cordial. As much as someone like him can be.

Maybe it’s then that you realized the fact that he was just trying to offer you some kindness at a point in your life where you might have needed it most. You were so unsure of yourself, who you were, what you did. You always knew Hobie wasn’t a bad person, but you never knew he could be so tender.

You pursed your lips and sighed with defeat before opening the door a little more to let him through. His boots made your floorboards creak under the weight of them as he walked into your flat, his hand shoved into the pockets of his spiked and studded leather jacket. He was too comfortable, too cool for your liking. Or maybe you were too tense for his.

You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself. Your body language screamed defensive, closed, unwilling to listen. Your eyes shifted from side to side but never linger on Hobie for long. Back against the door, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, heel to toe. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, what you think we share, but I’m not interested. It shouldn’t have happened.” You spat out, more at yourself than at him. “It was a mistake.”

Hobie grunted. “Way t’make a guy feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” He wasn’t hurt about it. You were going through a lot right now. And your words said more than you ever cared to say. 

“I’m not gay, Hobie.” You say a little forcefully, watching with a sort of meticulousness as Hobie wandered his way closer to you. You watched him shrug as if it didn’t matter. “So wha’? I wouldn’ call myself gay either, I jus’ like who I like.” He slid his hands from his pockets, his approach still slow and steady. You didn’t dare look away from him or make a motion in any other direction.

“‘M no askin’ you t’be gay, sunshine.”

You swallowed as Hobie reached out and placed his large hand on your hip and closed the space between your bodies. This was the very reason why you didn’t want to be around him, because you knew that if he made a motion for you, you wouldn’t have the strength to pull away.

You wanted him. You wanted him carnally, wanted him the way one being always longs for another. You wanted his hands, his lips, his cock. You wanted all of him and more. Just one more time, one more time and you’d expel him from your mind and you’d be done with it all together.

You looked at him, desperation filling your glossy eyes like tears. “Then what do you want from me, Hobie? I don’t understand.” You don’t understand yourself anymore. You don’t know yourself. All you know is that you're wildly and completely, head over heels, desperately fiending to have him again and you didn't know what that meant about yourself.

Hobie stroked your hip tenderly with his thumb. “I jus’ wan’cha t’like me back. Is tha’ so hard?”

You turned your head away, lips pursed to stop them from trembling. You were utterly terrified. Terrified because you do like him back. You like him more than you ever wanted to let on. Everything you despise about him, his saunter, his carelessness, his full laughter, his smile, is truly everything you adored about him and he had seen right through you the entire time.

“I do like you.” It feels so good to get off your chest, to finally say it out loud. You look at Hobie, eyes hard yet glassy. Your lips are pressed firmly.

Hobie didn't understand. “Then wha’s the problem?” If he liked you and you liked him, why were you so against being with him? It wasn't like you’d lose your friends, they were totally accepting of queerness if not queer themselves. And so what if anyone else judged you? You never cared about anyone’s opinion before.

“I thought you were the most annoying person in the world just a few weeks ago. I still do. So what if we like each other? That doesn't mean we’re meant to be together. I’ve known myself well all my life. I’ve known what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted to be-”

“This is ‘bout’cha feelin’ like ya don' know yerself anymore?” Hobie scoffed. “Things change, sunshine. Life happens. Grow up.” It was harsh, but you needed to hear it. You liked men, Hobie specifically, men generally. Who cares? Not him, not your friends, not the people that matter in your life. “If I like you and you like me, wouldn' i’ make the most sense for us to at least try to make sometin’ outta this?”

You were silent. Utterly and terribly silent. You didn't know what else to say. You felt ridiculous for holding on to this idea of yourself that you’d never live up to. You couldn’t believe you were admitting this but Hobie was making sense. Who cares if you like men, like him. Sure, it might come as a shock to everyone but in the end, what does it truly matter?

You look at Hobie with big eyes and your hands reached out to pull him a little closer. Who cares, you told yourself. The guilt still ate away at you but with time, you knew it would go away.

Hobie deemed it safe to kiss you. He was cautious, easing his lips onto yours, tender and innocent until it wasn’t. It was all the sum of their parts. Lips, teeth, tongue, passion, drowning desire. You reciprocated with the same timid carefulness of someone unsure of how to be gentle, how to be intimate without being aggressive.

Hobie’s fingers curled into the fabric of your shorts, pulling you closer until your body was flush with his. Your arms fell over his shoulders, fingers mindlessly scratching at the nape of his neck while your teeth nip softly at his lip piercing. He pressed you to the wall much like you had done to him that night in the bathroom and pressed his body closer to yours. You didn’t mind that all his spikes in studs were digging into your flesh. You welcomed his sharp abrasiveness.

You guided Hobie to the couch, where the two of you fell into a tangle of limbs and caressing touches. Hobie was on top of you, his large hands still on your hips but slowly beginning to roam about your body while the two of you kissed. 

Fuck, he was hard already but so were you so it made the matter all the less embarrassing. Your arousal only made him harder, more desperate for you. Hobie’s hands grasped at your hips and waist in an act of worship, before sliding between your legs to palm at your aching cock pressing against the front of your underwear.

“Hobie~” you whined softly, moaning onto the fullness of his lips before your tongue sought out his once more. “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” You should be embarrassed by how desperate you are, you both should. Your hands ferally tug at each other's clothing, just enough to get your cocks out and rutting against each other. His was bigger than yours, thicker, with veins running along the sides. He was uncut and pretty. And the direct comparison of your sizes made your cock twitch and leak onto your stomach. His precum dripped down and mingled with yours.

Hobie was not shy about rutting his hips and rubbing his length against yours. Your hands continued to pull off clothing after clothing. His vest, your shirt, his pants then yours. Until you both were totally nude, minus the spiked collar Hobie still wore.

“I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You said between bated breaths and eager kisses. Hobie pressed his hips down against yours and you whimpered just slightly. You felt his smooth yet scarred skin under your palms and felt at ease. You looked at him almost pathetically and felt your face grow hot as Hobie rolled his hips into yours and chuckled at you. The leaky tip of his cock rubbed the underside of your mushroom head and you shivered.

Hobie’s lovely lips kissed your cheek and began to hover over your jaw and down your neck. “I’ll show ya, sunshine. We’ll take turns, yeah?” He suddenly became as sweet as sugar, so sweet you could taste it on your tongue when he kissed you again. “I’ll show ya how t’do i’, then you can do i’ t’me.”

He was so gentle when he touched you, but you writhed and squirmed with every trace of his fingers along your body. “Do ya have lube?” He murmured against your flesh as he kissed a small sweet spot at the base of your neck. You nodded, a bit slowly. “I think… It’s somewhere in my room. I never needed to — fuck — use it before.” For the life of you, you couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Your brain was too fuzzy, Hobie was starting to move his hips faster and the way his cockhead rubbed yours was starting to make you delirious. “I can’t remember,” you murmur hazily. “I can’t remember, I can’t remember. God, please don’t stop.”

“Yer actin’ like this ‘n ‘m not even fuckin’ ya yet.” Hobie chuckled lowly into your ear. It tickled and you weren’t sure if that’s what made you shiver or the way he wrapped his lithe fingers around your cocks and squeezed just enough to apply a perfectly delicious amount of pressure.

You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand while Hobie thrusted his forward. He watched the way you huffed and whimpered, almost whining. You squeezed your eyes shut and simply let yourself feel his length against yours. His tip rubbed yours, precum leaking onto your slit. It was just enough to make you come undone.

You didn’t even know you came until you felt it pool all over your tummy. Your eyes opened, bleary and out of focus as your cock twitched. You reached down, looking up at Hobie who was pushing his hips in shallow thrusts. He was close, you could tell just by the way he moaned, deep and pretty like he was singing just for you.

You reached down and dragged your thumb over his dark tip, pressing against his slit and rubbing in short, tender strokes. Hobie’s hips shuddered and his lips parted just enough to let out something of a guttural groan. “Fuck– ‘m close, sunshine. Yer doin’ so good.”

Hobie came soon after you, with a few more short rubs of his tip, he spilled out all over your hand and tummy, his cum pooling in with yours into a large, milky puddle. It was warm, a bit more viscous than yours, came out in globs that landed on your abdomen.

Hobie leaned in and kissed you once again. You melted into him, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Hobie.” You plead with him, panting into his mouth with a desperation you’ve never before known. You parted your legs wider, exposing yourself to him, offering yourself to him. You looked so handsome like that, legs spread and cum on your belly. “Use our cum if you have to. Please, I need it.”

He was taken aback by your eagerness to be fucked. “This’ll be ya first time bottoming, yeah?” You nod sheepishly. Hobie smiles that smile you’d usually scoff at but now, all you could do is marvel at it. You swooned at it, your lips pulling into the smallest smile of its own. “Will you let me fuck you after?” You ask in the smallest voice as if you were almost embarrassed by your request. But you couldn’t help it. “Please, I really wanna fuck you.”

“Awww ya wanna fuck me, sunshine?” Hobie crooned at you. He laughed robustly as you slapped his shoulder and turned your face away. “You can always leave, dickhead.” He kissed at your neck and chest, nipping slightly at your skin. “You don’ wan’ me t’do tha’.” Hobie continued to kiss at your neck while dragging his fingers through the puddle of cum on your tummy.

Your lips parted and a small gasp left you as the pad of his fingers circled over the tight rim of your puckered hole.

“Ya wanna prep first, jus’ tease i’ open.” Hobie pressed a singer against your hole, listening to your soft whines as his finger eased into you. The intrusion felt odd, but not bad. He whispered for you to relax. “‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha.” He gathered more cum and made sure his path was nice and slick. “‘M gonna add another finger.”

“Just do it— please.”

Hobie wasted no time sliding another slickened finger into your taut hole, his eyes watching the way you bite your lip and stifle a whimper. His fingers didn’t search for your prostate, his cock would do that work for him. He was just focused on opening you up and ensuring that you’d be ready to take him. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Your face twisted, not exactly with discomfort. It was a feeling you could get used to with time.

Hobie and that dimpled smile that grove you mad. You almost wanted to say something but every time you opened your mouth, you simply cried out. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You were desperate, every desire you’ve ever had spilling out of your mouth, every fantasy you’ve had about him since that night in your closet. You wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him, you wanted you bodies to melt into one another.

And when Hobie pulled his fingers from your wanton hole and gathered more cum to spread down his length, you prepared yourself for an unbearable pain. You’ve seen porn like this but no one has ever been nearly as big as him. 

He placed his tip against your wet hole, looked at your face for any sign of pain, and slowly eased himself in.

Your mouth fell open and your back arched as you whimpered. You could feel him splitting you open, parting your tight walls to make space for him. Your walls were molded to his cock. Hobie groaned above you, hands gripping at your hips and thighs to ground himself. “Ya feel so good, sunshine. Bloody hell. Stay still f’me.”

But you couldn't, you wiggled and writhed with something of discomfort and pleasure. His intrusion was not exactly welcome but certainly not discouraged. The sounds that left you were ones you’ve never heard before. They were new and unknown, whiny and loud as Hobie pressed against something soft and sensitive inside you. Suddenly discomfort was welcome and you needed more.

He pressed his hips flush to yours, rolling his hips and offering shallow thrusts that made him poke and prod at that spot that made your toes curl. You tossed your head back, eyes rolling back into your head, fingernails sinking into his flesh. “Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You whimpered as he buckled down and pulled out only to fuck himself back into you.

Hobie was desperate, ravenous, trying so hard not to hurt you while also satisfying his need to have you. He loved the way you sang for him, your whiny moans growing higher with each thrust into your hole. You trembled and you sang and you opened your legs wider to feel him deeper if such a thing was really possible. You could feel him in your throat, choking.

Your orgasm came so quick you hardly had the chance to say anything before you were squealing, your cock leaking more cum onto your tummy with a few hard twitches. Your mind was so hazy, but you had enough sense to hide your face in the bend of your elbow to hide from the embarrassment of coming so swiftly.

You expected Hobie to laugh at you, tease you for it. But he gently took your arm from you face and leaned down to pepper kisses across your heated face. “I’s okay, sunshine. I’s ya first time. Only right you’d be sensitive.” His fingers traced up and down your side as he placed his lips on yours and kissed you with a tenderness you still couldn’t believe he was capable of.

“Y’want me t’keep goin’ or do y’want yer turn?”

He made you feel safe and comfortable. As comfortable you could be having sex with another man.

“Can you ride me? I wanna look at you.” 

Hobie chuckled, slowly pulling out of you with a pop that made you shiver. “So obsessed with me.” Your lips tugged into a lighthearted scowl that soon faded as Hobie scooped up your cum from your abdomen and reached back to prep himself, slowly sinking a finger into his ass, soon followed by another.

You watched, dazed and amazed, admiring the contours of his face as he let out a breathy little moan. Hobie smirked at you, “like what’cha see?” You didn’t have enough sass left in you to pretend that you didn’t. You just wanted him, to feel him, to make him cum like he made you cum. You wanted his pleasure, wanted him.

You sat up into a sitting position and watched as Hobie came and straddled your lap. Your hands found purchase on his boney hips and he looked into your eyes as he stroked your cock with his cum-covered hand. “Le’s see how fast I can get’cha t’cum this time.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“No’ rubbin’ i’ ya face, sunshine. I jus’ think i’s cute.” Hobie leaned down and kissed you again, just a peck that left you wanting more. He settled down and positioned your cock against his hole before slowly and carefully sinking down onto you.

It felt different than being with a woman, tighter, warmer, less wet. A moan ripped from your throat, your mouth falling open to gasp and shudder. Your hands stroked Hobie’s sides to soothe yourself. “Fuck– Hobie~ God, you feel so good.” You were gasping for air, breathless. Your cock was still sensitive. You’d cum in no time.

Hobie grinned, settling into your lap, rolling his slender hips into yours. He rode you slowly at first, drawing out noises no other person has ever made you vocalize before. He cooed at you, his lips on yours, his tongue in your open mouth. Then he rode you hard and fast, with the skill of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You were borderline pathetic. Rendered down to nothing more but a gasping, whimpering, drooling mess. You should have more self-respect, but Hobie was taking any semblance of it from you. His hole squeezed you tight, a vice grip that left your eyes rolling. “Ngh, mmh~” You were writhing beneath him, hands gripping, nails sinking into flesh.

You held Hobie close. His chest to yours, his cock slapping against your wet abdomen, his fingers laced into your hair. There was something so terribly intimate about it, how close you two were. The desperation on both parts was thick in the air, hot with the smell of sweat and sex. When Hobie stopped kissing you, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You two looked at each other and you felt as though your face had been shoved into lava.

Hobie grinded his hips down and his head lulled back. You had touched his soft spot and he let out a pretty, baritone moan. He squeezed you tight and stroked your cock softly and just as Hobie had suspected, you came, without warning. You had meant to cum on the outside, your hands attempting to push Hobie off of you when your cock began to twitch, but he seemed intent on staying.

You came inside, nice and deep, your hips shuddering. Hobie groaned, low and loud, and came onto you stomach and chest.

You both were left panting, tired and suddenly sore. Hobie looked at you, waiting for that moment where it all switches and you realize that you’ve made another mistake– where you suddenly become cold again. You looked up at him, eyes unsure but softly pleading for reassurance. “Please tell me this wasn’t a mistake.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Hobie got up off of you and sat on his heels beside you. His hands traced imaginary shapes into your cum-covered chest before leaning in to litter pecks across your face. “I’ wasn’ a mistake, sunshine. Nothin’ we did was a mistake.” His lips finally found yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His lips soothed you.

“Le’s see where this takes us. We don’ have t’put a label on i’ righ’ now.”

You looked rather sheepish, turning your head away from him. “What if I want to put a label on it?” If you were going to do this, you wanted to do it right. You wanted Hobie to belong to you and you to belong to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you still annoy the hell out of me and sometimes I want to knock you over the head with a frying pan, but I want us to be something.”

There was that smile, that gorgeous, charming, irritating smile. It was so cocky, so arrogant, so Hobie. You adored it.

“Then le’s be something’.”

[almondx1ao]

Late nights {XYX fluff}

_________________

Cw: nothing just fluff <3

Fanart by: DesLune

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You had insisted on staying up with him, you wanted to spend time with him. He had late night paperwork to finish for his job and despite how much he'd insisted you laid in bed and had teased you to do so, you were stubborn. You had sat on his lap and played games on a handheld console instead of listening to him. It was like he had two cats instead of one. You were facing the back of the chair while he faced his computer working on the paperwork, knowing full well you weren't leaving. You played your game with a low volume to be quiet so he could work, the only sound that filled the room were the clicks from his keyboard as he had typed and the soft 8-bit music from your switch. 

The soft light of the fairy lights glowed on your soft and delicate skin Xyx couldn't help but admire you, even when tired he found you captivating. The blue light of his screen radiated off of his darker skin. Your head rested on his shoulder, your tired eyes trained to your console, looking at him every so often. He smiled a little when he caught you looking at him, but also just enjoying that you were there. 

He wouldn't admit that he was actually grateful for your stubbornness at least for now or at least he'd deny it if he did. The hours passed by as he worked, you could almost hear the clock tick as he worked. He had started at 10 and was now nearing 12, he lost track of time in his mundane work. Xyx could feel the tiredness ache in his body, but that was a normal for him, since it was a common occurrence with his job. Though, a meow from Cat broke his concentrative state. 

His green eyes looked to where cat had normally perched on his bookshelf to look over him and you, expecting the animal to beg him for a luxurious meal. He was going to be playful and tell cat that he wasn't going to get it luxury dinners because of the distraction, keeping to his promises to take them away if they bothered him at work...maybe. But the big floofball was not in its normal spot. Instead at your side, nudging your limp hand. It swayed a small bit as cat had nudged it. 

Your gaming console was barely able to be held onto anymore and nearly falling to the floor. His eyes traced up your frame from your hand to your face, his lips pulling into a slight smile. You were asleep on him, it's almost as if he had known that would happen. Your face snuggled into the arm closest to you and also on his shoulder. 

Your cheek was squished from cuddling into him, your eyes closed and your mouth hung open slightly. Xyx saw your chest rise and fall in small shallow breaths. A small bit of drool hung off of your lip. He was definitely going to tease you about it later. He chuckled softly, grabbing your game and resting it on the desk,

"I told you doll."

He said softly, as to not wake you, but to also tease your sleeping form. He carefully pushed his chair away from his desk and wrapped your arms and legs around him carefully,

"The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."

He said. Xyx debated on waking you up to tease you for falling asleep on him, but you were just too cute when you slept, so he opted against it.

He wrapped his arms around you to support your weight. He stood and made his way back to your shared room, gently laying you down on your side of the bed. He quietly changed into something more comfortable and then crawled into bed next to you. You had turned in your sleep to face him. He chuckled again and pulled you close. Xyx ran his fingers over your back and buried his nose in your hair, smiling like a fool. You were just too adorable when you were asleep like this. More importantly, he was just lucky to have you and see you like this.

[section-chief-prentiss]

pretty isn't pretty

Summary: Your BAU coworkers throw you a surprise birthday party, but it triggers eating problems from your past. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Word Count: 1889

TWs: disordered eating, body shaming, panic attacks 

Ao3

Your surprise 30th birthday party was scheduled the day before your birthday.

You’d never particularly enjoyed celebrating your birthday, for no other reason than you were less than comfortable being the center of attention. Having all eyes on you brought pressure and self-consciousness rather than joy. But when your girlfriend Emily asked for permission to plan something special for your 30th, you couldn’t exactly say no.

Ultimately, Emily made the mistake of asking Penelope for help with planning, and that’s when she came clean with you about the surprise party.

You were grateful for the heads-up—you’d never had a surprise party before and weren’t sure how you would’ve reacted under that pressure. But when you stood in front of the mirror, appraising your appearance, you debated making up an excuse to get out of going.

You’d decided on a short black dress that hugged your frame and simple black heels. The dress made you feel confident when you purchased it, but you hadn’t worn it out yet. Now, it felt like it was suffocating you and highlighting your every flaw. Your eyes ran over every imperfection, each appearing more glaring than the last.

“Ready, love?” Emily asked, stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom you shared.

Your heart stopped at the sight of your girlfriend. Her raven hair was curled, and she was wearing a tight red dress that took your breath away. You couldn’t help yourself—you found yourself envying her seemingly effortless confidence.

Even more so, when you saw the hopeful smile on her face, you knew you couldn’t back out.

“I’m not sure,” you said, squirming. “That this outfit is right. Do we have time if I change?”

Emily frowned. “We can be as late as you want; nothing starts without you. But are you sure? You look beautiful.”

You turned to the mirror again, as though her words were enough to make you change what you saw. Your heart sank when you realized they weren’t, but you also didn’t want to have to explain to your friends why you were late.

Forcing a smile, you turned back to Emily. “You’re right; let’s go.”

*** The ruse behind the surprise party was that you were dropping something off at Rossi’s that he’d left at the office, and you were supposed to be on your way to dinner with Emily. But even though you were prepared for what was waiting for you on the other side of the door, you couldn’t help yourself from clinging to Emily’s side.

You braced yourself as you approached the front door, hand in hand with Emily, and rang the bell.

“Come on in!” Rossi called from the other side of the door.

“Ready?” Emily whispered.

Not trusting your voice, you nodded.

Emily opened the door to reveal complete darkness. When she hit the light switch, the entire BAU jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!”

Despite knowing this was coming, you still jumped.

“Happy birthday, love,” Emily planted a kiss on your cheek.

“It’s not even my birthday yet,” you said, hoping you sounded surprised enough to fool a room full of profilers.

“That’s part of the surprise,” Penelope sang. “When Peaches told me we were planning a party for your birthday, I knew we had to go all out.”

You turned to Emily, who whispered, “Sorry.”

Well, that explained the extravagance, at least. You were grateful your girlfriend knew you well enough to warn you ahead of time.

Rossi’s house was almost unrecognizable. A fact that, based on the scowl Rossi couldn’t keep off his face for long, he wasn’t thrilled with. You threw an apologetic smile his way, and he winked in reply.

Streamers and balloons hung from the light fixtures and along the ceiling. You followed them into the kitchen, where a full bar and spread was waiting.

“Guys, this is too much,” you flushed.

Spencer stepped forward. “You know, by the time you’re 30—”

“Drink, Y/N?” Morgan interrupted.

You chuckled. “Please. Wine would be great.”

Hotch, JJ, and Rossi wished you a happy birthday on their way to the food. Emily, knowing what you needed, wasn’t far away.

Morgan handed you a Moscato and Emily a cabernet, which you took gratefully, before he made his way to the food as well.

“Can I get you a plate?” Emily asked, resting a hand on your lower back.

“Maybe in a bit,” you said, your appetite dissipating. You’d been unable to eat anything all day due to the nerves, which had caught up with you on the drive over. But now that you were here, the sight of food was enough to make you nauseous. “But you go ahead.”

Despite your insistence, Emily stayed by your side. Gradually, the group made their way out to the backyard, where string lights cascaded like rain.

“Penelope,” you breathed. “This is beautiful.”

Your friend blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you argued.

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed immediately with a giggle. “But it was worth it to see that look on your face.”

“Speaking of…” Emily said, sliding over to your side and nodding toward something behind you.

You turned to find Morgan and Hotch delicately balancing a three-tiered cake, lavishly decorated in pastel frosting and delicately placed flowers, with what you assumed were thirty candles lit at the top. All around you, your friends burst into a slightly off-tune rendition of “Happy birthday,” but all you could focus on was the pile of sugar beelining in your direction.

Hotch and Morgan set the cake down on the table nearest you, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you fought to keep a smile on it.

“Happy birthday to you…” The group sang, holding out the last note.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you closed your eyes to fight the tears that were brimming in them, as you pretended to ponder your wish. When you felt composed enough, you opened them just enough to get a peek of where you were aiming and blew out the candles in one fell swoop.

Your friends erupted in cheers, and Hotch started plucking the candles out and placing them on a plate. Morgan picked up the knife and began cutting out slices for everyone, and you couldn’t take your eyes off the large slices he prepared.

Despite your best efforts, past comments from your mom rattled around your brain.

Are you going to eat all that?

You need to watch your figure.

No one will love you if you keep eating like that.

As if knowing your doubts and wanting to combat them, Emily reached out to hand you a piece of cake. “First piece for the birthday girl,” she sang, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek.

You glanced from the dessert to your girlfriend’s eyes, which were filled with love. But your heart hammered in your chest—what if it was just for show? What if your mom had been right all those years ago?

“Are you okay, love?” Emily lowered her voice so only you could hear.

No one will love you if you keep eating like that.

“I’m just not hungry,” you said, cursing your voice for shaking. “I had a late lunch today.”

Across the room, Spencer frowned. “Weren’t you guys supposed to be on your way to dinner?”

You clammed up. “Um, yes, but—”

“C’mon, Y/L/N, you can’t pass up at least one bite of your birthday cake,” Morgan teased.

Though you knew it came from a place of love, it felt like mounting pressure weighing on your shoulders. And with each passing moment, another one of your friends looked in your direction, and you couldn’t take the attention.

“I’ll be right back,” you whispered, pushing past Emily and back into the house.

Tears blurred your vision, and your chest felt like it was caving in. You weren’t sure how you were still breathing.

The first door you reached, which you were sure was a guest bathroom, you threw yourself inside it, only to discover a pile of coats waiting on the other side. You wiped your tears away to discover you’d thrown yourself in a closet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You collapsed to your knees, letting your emotions take over. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you enjoy the birthday party your friends threw for you without ruining it?

Why couldn’t you just eat the damn cake?

You cursed your mother, whom you’d stopped talking to the moment you turned 18 and moved out, for still holding such power over you and your inner thoughts. You knew what she said was wrong, but in moments like these, her voice was louder than your own rationale.

When the closet door cracked open, you clamped a hand over your sobbing mouth to muffle the sound. The last thing you needed was for anyone here to see you like this.

But it was Emily’s face that peered down at you. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, taking the space next to you on the floor.

“What’s wrong, love?”

She offered you her arms and you collapsed in them, letting her embrace you.

“It’s my mom,” you hiccupped through your tears.

“Did she say something?” The instantly fierce, protective tone in your girlfriend’s voice filled your chest with warmth. Emily was no stranger to the issues with your mother, and faced similar issues with her own mom. It was one of the things that bonded you together at the beginning of your relationship.

“No, not recently. It’s just… things she’s said before all came rushing back. And the idea of eating that cake, with everyone staring at me, was just too much,” you whispered.

Emily cursed under her breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve thought about that before letting Pen plan this whole thing. Do you want to leave? I can sneak us out of here; you don’t need to see anyone else tonight if you don’t want to.”

You smiled into her shirt, your tears slowing. It was a tempting offer, but you knew what you needed to do.

“No. I can’t let her have that power over me. I just didn’t expect it all to bubble up like this.”

Emily rubbed circles on your back, and you focused on the sensation, letting your breathing return to a normal rhythm.

“Take as long as you need. We’re not in a hurry.”

You wanted to ensure you wouldn’t fall apart in front of your friends again, so you gave yourself a minute to collect yourself. Just as you were about ready, Emily whispered in your ear.

“Who would’ve thought? The two of us, back in the closet together.”

You coughed out a laugh, surprising yourself with it. Emily joined in and the two of you fell against each other, letting the giggles ride out. When you were ready, you kissed your girlfriend gently, and she helped you to your feet. She always knew what to say to make you laugh.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too,” Emily replied, taking your hand. “You ready?”

“Yes. But if Spencer tries to make another comment about being 30, I might kill him.”

Emily squeezed your hand, kissing the back of it. “Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

[yoshi-disney]

This'll be my last offical post for Arcane, cause I really need to get this off my chest, the next time people say that Cait never apologized

for her actions, I'm going to show them these two frames, I've never seen a more "damn I really fucked up" look in my entire life, God I swear some people just watch this show scrolling through tiktok. I'm honestly over trying to debate these people and argue that Cait did deserve redemption and earned Vi's trust back because she could've literally single-handedly saved Piltover and Zaun, die in the process, and chock out "I'm sorry" as her final words and these people will still find a way to hate her and this ship, I'm not attacking these people, and I'm also not attacking those with valid complaints and can explain them, I'm attacking the people who obviously watched the show with a pre-concived bias against Caitlyn because she's a cop and she had a semi-dictator arc. So after my third watch through of the series here are my final takes.

What Cait did was wrong but was understandable because she had gone through so much in so little time, not to mention was being psychologically manipulated the entire time.

No, that sex scene was not forced and was a major turning point for the show because it completed Cait's redemption arc and Vi's "need to let Powder go" arc.

Vi's role in this season, at least for Caitlyn, was to remind Cait who she was shooting for, which is why Cait buckles when Vi comes back to her life, she tried for so long to stay away from Vi because that's what she thought she needed, because if she saw Vi again she knew she'd crack.

No, the final scene should not be taken as some sort of statement about class and is just Vi's awkward way of saying "I'm with you cupcake, even after everything"

I can't believe how toxic this fandom has become, even with people who will agree with this post, it's insane man, I just hope this fandom calms down because both sides are driving me to start day drinking and that's not an exaggeration.

Don't take this the wrong way, I also love Timebomb, ship wars are the dumbest thing ever manifested by man.

Season 1 is superior but Season 2 is still GOATED

Leave me alone to cry in my cave of wonders.

[gureumz]

incriminating

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

notes: fem-bodied reader, brother's friend trope, mild dom/sub dynamics

a/n: my first work on this blog! it's been more than a year since i've written anything like this so i might be a little rusty. feedback is very much welcomed!

you had hoped your friday would be quiet. a calm finale to a whirlwind of a week at university. you were back home, exhausted from an hour's commute from campus, and all you wanted to do was doze off into the weekend.

the steady drone of your air conditioning, the distant sound of the tv downstairs, the occasional gaggle of kids passing by your house yelling; all of these seemed to come together into a sleepy melody, your eyes getting heavier by the minute.

until a sharp knock came from your bedroom door.

"_______?" your brother's muffled voice calls out.

"what?" you answer, a twinge of irritation sparking in your chest.

"wanna watch a movie?" your brother asks. you groan inwardly curling further into yourself.

"no, fuck off," you reply curtly.

your brother tries your doorknob. it's locked, obviously.

"i ordered food and booze," your brother offers, shaking the doorknob more vigorously. you jump out of bed, angrily stomping to your door, ready to kick your brother in the shin if it meant he left you alone.

you yank your door open.

"i don't care, i wanna slee—"

"heeseung's here," your brother whispers.

oh.

well, shit.

"so?" you reply, a feeble attempt at masking the blush creeping down your neck.

"don't act stupid, i know you like him," your brother scoffs.

mildly alarmed, you shove him away from you.

"i do not," you protest.

(yes, you do. you've liked him since the first time you saw heeseung at the front door, your inebriated brother hanging off his tall frame. heeseung had looked absolutely divine at that moment, hair mussed up, cheeks a bright pink from the alcohol. your heartbeat quickens at the mere memory of it all.)

"yeah, whatever," your brother waves a hand dismissively.

"either way, i'm extending my kindness to you on this rarest of occasions. i'm offering real, seasoned, non-university food and more alcohol than i know you can handle."

your brother adds, snickering, "and i'm practically setting you up with my friend."

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"you have my gratitude, dear brother," you say sarcastically. "don't freak out if we start making out in front of you."

your brother makes a face. "gross."

you merely smile, an artificially saccharine expression, before you slam your bedroom door shut behind you.

---

"i brought a pest," your brother announces as the two of you descend the stairs into the living room. you land a hard punch on his shoulder from behind, reveling in his splutters of pain.

your eyes land on heeseung's figure lounging on one side of the couch and you wish you had put a little more thought into what you were wearing. a gigantic hoodie and ratty house shorts didn't exactly come off as sexy.

at least when compared to heeseung's black shirt clinging deliciously to his toned upper body and his sweats that seemed to leave little to the imagination, the outline of—

"hi, ______," heeseung greets, grinning up at you. your eyes snap back to his face and you feel the familiar blush blooming all over your body.

"hey, heeseung," you answer back, approaching the couch as nonchalantly as you can. for a second, you debate whether you should take a seat on the other end, but your brother's reminder rings back in your head.

i'm practically setting you up with my friend.

you're so going to take full advantage of this.

you seat yourself right in the middle of the couch, close enough to heeseung that you can smell his perfume but still maintaining a civil distance.

you watch your brother disappear into the kitchen, presumably to collect some alcohol, but your line of sight is obstructed as heeseung leans forward, eyes boring right into yours.

"you wanna pick out the movie?" heeseung offers the remote to you. you take it, fiddling with the buttons as you contemplate what to watch.

"horror sounds good. is that okay?" you ask, a taunting smile making its way to your face. your brother may or may not have mentioned heeseung's reluctance with horror movies.

"only if i get to hold your hand through the whole thing," heeseung jests, nudging your shoulder with his.

you laugh, briefly eyeing the kitchen door for any sign of your brother. you'd rather him not hear the next words that come out of your mouth.

"just my hand?"

heeseung stares at you for a second, mouth agape, before he smirks.

"your brother was wrong for bringing his menace of a sibling down here," heeseung says, shaking his head. he brings his hand down on your exposed thigh, fingers rhythmically tapping against your skin.

"especially when they're wearing barely anything on the lower half of their body."

before you can reply, your brother saunters out of the kitchen, three bottles of beer in his hands. heeseung's hand retracts and you cross your legs away from him, creating a little more distance between the two of you.

you busy yourself with selecting the movie, but you can still feel heeseung's eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head.

your friday just got a lot more interesting.

---

somewhere in between the cookie-cutter horror movie intro, predictably daunting music, and fake-out jumpscares, your brother had brought all three of you blankets to use as the night turned chillier. the lights had been turned off as well, by none other than yourself.

"for dramatic effect," you had reasoned.

heeseung raised an eyebrow at that, his familiar wolfish smile settling on his face. you ignored this, returning under the warmth of your blanket.

you made no protest when heeseung reached out, twining his fingers between yours under the covers, seemingly spurred on by the lack of visibility from where your brother is sitting.

a loud bang from the tv rips you out of your thoughts, and you feel heeseung's grip simultaneously tighten around your hand. you turn, giving him a look, but his eyes stay glued to the movie.

the music crescendos onscreen and all three of you jump in surprise, heeseung's hand abandoning your own and finding purchase, once again, on your thigh. you draw in a sharp breath when he squeezes, your own hand coming down to grip his wrist, as if in a warning.

he relaxes as the action dies down in the movie, but your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body both hot and cold at the same time.

heeseung's hand moves further inward, fingers smoothing over your inner thigh. you nearly choke on air.

you clear your throat, casually glancing at heeseung before laughing, trying to mask your nervousness.

"someone's scared," you comment, ignoring the way heeseung's hands creep further up the hem of your shorts. you let go of his wrist, mirroring him and reaching straight for the relative area of his pelvis.

your hand brushes against the slight mound in heeseung's pants and you don't miss his sharp intake of breath.

gotcha.

"who, you?" heeseung counters, and you scoff, shaking your head.

"yeah, right. i chose this movie," you say matter-of-factly. you palm heeseung through his sweats, his cock quickly stiffening in response to your touch. you cast a sideways glance toward your brother, relieved to see that he seems blissfully unaware of where your hand has ended up.

"it's not even that scary," your brother comments, gesturing to the tv.

"right?" heeseung agrees, taking the opportunity to meet your gaze, his eyes dark. you smile, pulling your hand away.

"you know what, i'm hungry. anyone else wants food? i'll heat up the pizza." your brother rises from his seat and you quickly pull your blanket tighter around yourself, concealing heeseung's hand still wedged between your thighs.

"i'll have some, please," you request, laying on the politeness, which you knew annoyed your brother. he grimaces, walking past you.

"i'm good," heeseung declares. "i have to use the bathroom, though."

you grab the remote and pause the movie. heeseung stands up and you follow, slipping past him and practically skipping towards the stairs.

"i'll change into pajamas. it's too cold," you say, hoping this sorry attempt at an excuse doesn't ring any alarm bells in your brother's head. if it did, he didn't mention anything as he merely supplies an 'okay' before heading into the kitchen.

you bound up the stairs, turning towards heeseung and sending him a wink. heeseung takes one last look at the kitchen, making sure your brother isn't looking, before tailing right behind you.

heeseung keeps a safe distance from you, but you can feel his presence all the same. you walk towards your bedroom, your hand barely turning the knob before you feel heeseung press up behind you.

he pushes the door open all the way, coaxing you inside. you turn to face him, one of his arms circling your waist while the other pulls your door close, careful not to make any noise that could alert your brother.

"what a tease," heeseung comments, both of his hands landing on your hips as he presses your bodies together.

"says the scaredy cat who needs to grope his friend's sister to distract himself from some silly horror movie," you shoot back, hands slipping under his shirt. he's so warm, it has your heart beating wildly.

"please," heeseung chuckles. "you like being groped, don't you?"

"only if it's you," you answer before pulling heeseung down to you, your lips crashing together messily.

heeseung groans into your mouth, pushing you towards your bed. you pull back slightly, letting yourself fall onto your mattress, your hand gripping heeseung's shirt. you pull him down with you, his arms reaching out to brace himself.

your movements are frantic as you kiss him again, moving further up on your bed until you're lying square on your pillow, heeseung hovering over you, his hair falling over his eyes. those eyes that bore straight into your own, sending involuntary shivers up your spine.

"god, you're pretty," heeseung reveres, holding one side of your face.

you smile, butterflies erupting in your stomach. heeseung grins back before kissing you sweetly and much softer this time, his hands running down your sides. he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and you let him pull them off you, his palm smoothing over your leg.

"you think your brother knows what we're doing?" heeseung asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

you shrug. heeseung pulls his own bottoms off, kicking them to the floor unceremoniously.

"honestly? i don't care if he does," you admit, reaching out, arms circling around heeseung's neck as he comes back closer to you.

"he'll kill me, for sure," heeseung says, laughing. he dips his fingers between your folds, spreading the wetness around. you moan softly, your bottom lip catching between your teeth.

"or, he'll beat me to a pulp, at least," heeseung adds.

"but it'll be so worth it once i'm done with you."

heeseung slips a finger in you easily, your arousal evident by the way you're probably dripping onto your sheets. he adds another finger, the sweet drag of the digits against your walls sending your mind into a frenzy.

"yes, just like that," you breathe out, eyes scrunching shut.

"look at me, baby," heeseung commands, and you immediately obey, eyelids fluttering open. he's looking down at you, practically fucking you with his eyes.

but you need the real thing.

"n-need you," you mutter, unable to find the full extent of your voice with the way he's still fingering you.

heeseung leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. then on your temple. on your cheek. on your jaw. your neck. then, finally, behind your ear.

you mewl helplessly.

"tell me exactly what you want," heeseung whispers and you shiver once more as his breath tickles your ear.

"i need you inside me," you say meekly, suddenly embarrassed now that you hear it out loud from your own mouth.

heeseung pinches at your earlobe ever-so-slightly with his teeth before soothing it with a kiss.

"good," heeseung mumbles. he pulls his fingers out, licking them clean as you watch, entranced by the man in front of you.

heeseung takes hold of himself and your eyes fixate on his length, heavy in his hand and leaking precum. your mouth waters as you assess just how big he is.

(spoiler: he's really big.)

heeseung catches your eye and grins. your cheeks heat up but you can't look away.

he inches closer, pressing the tip to your entrance, and anticipation bubbles up inside you. heeseung holds your legs apart, pushing more of himself in. he gets halfway when an intense wave of pleasure surges through you. you moan, heeseung gasping softly at the same time. in a split second, heeseung buries himself all the way into you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"fuck," you curse, fingers twisting your sheets as you grip them for dear life.

"you feel so good," heeseung says through gritted teeth. "how do you feel so good?"

"please," you blabber. "please, please, move."

heeseung obliges, thrusting into you. this ignites a new wave of desperation from both of you, heeseung seemingly overwhelmed by how you feel around him, and you clamping a hand down on your mouth to stop yourself from crying out in pleasure.

heeseung pushes your hoodie up your chest, exposing your boobs. he licks his lips hungrily, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. your moans spill through your hand as heeseung's tongue flicks against the nub harshly.

the world around you starts to get fuzzy. heeseung keeps an unrelenting pace, pounding into you with a force you've never experienced before. heeseung lets up on your nipple and you pull him close, your fingernails digging into his shoulders.

heeseung starts peppering kisses on on side of your neck, sucking at a spot before running his tongue over it. you damn near go mad at how good it all feels.

"oh god," heeseung groans. "'m sorry...not gonna...last long."

this pulls a moan out of you, the idea of heeseung being unable to restrain himself because of you causes you to clench down on him. he curses, pulling back to grip your hips. it's almost painful, but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of heeseung.

"god, you're so fucking hot, so fucking gorgeous," heeseung praises, hammering in and out of you. you can't even form a coherent thought, all you can think to do is reach down to rub desperately at your clit, urging yourself closer to release.

"fuck yeah," heeseung practically growls. "touch yourself for me."

your mouth hangs open as you feel yourself racing to your orgasm. heeseung mumbles out a litany of curses mixed with your name and you think it's the most beautiful thing you've heard.

finally, a burst of stars explodes behind your closed eyelids, and your body jerks, white-hot pleasure coursing through your body. heeseung lets out a deep, guttural moan as he keeps you in place, his cum spilling inside you.

heeseung gives a few cursory thrusts as he rides out his high, stopping when the last drop has left him. you lie there, motionless, panting and eyes bleary.

heeseung drops next to you on your bed and you lazily reach over, draping yourself over him. he wraps an arm around you, stroking your hair as you both catch your breaths.

you both don't say anything for a while, basking in what you just did, but footsteps jolt you both out of your peace.

three sharp knocks are delivered on your door and your heart sinks.

"shit," heeseung whispers, scrambling for his pants. he tosses you your underwear and shorts and you quickly pull them on, ignoring the voice screaming in your head about how his cum is going to drip down your leg and it's gonna be gross and—

"mom and dad are almost home," your brother's voice calls out from the other side of the door.

"if i were the two of you, i'd erase any incriminating evidence, of...whatever you just did," your brother adds before you hear him walk away from your bedroom.

you look at heeseung and he looks back. you both collapse in a fit of giggles.

[clairedaring]

Hi! I saw that you've read Euthanasia, and I had a question after watching episode 7 of Spare Me Your Mercy. I'm curious about the framing of Boss' death and what space the novel gives to tease out the complexities of euthanasia and disability? As a disabled watcher, I come to discussions of euthanasia outside terminal illness quite wary. Though I'm certainly coming from a Western context where euthanasia and disability is a very sensitive topic and the conversation might look pretty different in Thailand. The framing in the show felt at the very least rushed in terms of building any nuance into the conversation so far, so I'm curious if and how the novel explores the complexities of this.

Hi Shane 💖

To be honest I think that the series is doing far better in terms of show the complexities than the books in terms of euthanasia (i know, unbelievable but bare with me for a second here friend).

So.... the biggest difference the series has made so far is changing the roles between Somsak and Boss. In the book, Somsak was the main culprit and Boss was his accomplice in the way that Boss/Boze also idolises Kan and his ideals -> Somsak convinced Boss to join him in his quest to euthanise patients.

And if you ask what Doctor Somsak's motivation is? There isn't more to it as much as he believes in the same thing as Kan and Kan coming to the hospital is now a future scapegoat for him.

In the novel, Kan also deliberately euthanised/murdered Dr. Somsak when he was in the hospital after they were both injured in their gun fight (similar to what happened to Boss) (pinging @waitmyturtles who may be interested to know that novel!Kan wasn't just a morally grey ass, he really did fuck up there and genuinely did not deserve to end up with Wasan where they left them in the first novel).

But there wasn't a dramatic conversation between them like how Boss asked Kan to do kill him. No, like novel!Kan straight up murdered Somsak to keep him from telling everyone his secret (granted it was his only murder and he did go to prison for it but yeah still novel!Kan was... something else).

So in this sense I think the series has already done much better with the topic of euthanasia, opening up more sides to the debates whereas the novel only touches upon euthanasia in a very surface level way to move forward with its the murder mystery plot.

It's doing it very clumsily for sure but for instance I like that Boss's background story represented how his mother got caregiver burnout and in a country where public healthcare is not as developed and there aren't much welfare or support schemes for people living in rural areas, it's not uncommon to see this seemingly selfish thinking from people around terminally ill/permanently disabled people. It's selfish and inherently discriminatory but it's a raw representation of the painfully ugly mindset people may harbour but will never say it out loud in public.

I'm in no way defending this series by the way, I'm simply saying that if you're looking for more nuances and complexities on the topic of euthanasia in the novels, they're definitely not going to offer that. I would say that the novels offer more complexities in the development of the relationship between Kan and Wasan because it's constructed in a way that's much more believable for reader audience.

The series... I think EP.7 tried a little too much with incorporating assisted suicide into euthanasia which is only going to make it much more controversial.

I hope these little novel spoilers help and answer some of your questions. I really can't offer anything from the novels in terms of disability because it wasn't even mentioned once ಥ_ಥ

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 3: Pin a Fox skin to the wall, call it decoration

Words: 4.9k

Summary: With a few drinks in, you both confess your feelings. But there's always something getting in the way.

a/n: I am the gift that keeps on giving! So here's the next chapter cuz I feel shitty just leaving it in my documents and you all have been so nice! Enjoy! xx

P.S. Reader is Latina in this, so there's gonna be melanin for daysss.

“How much longer do you think you're gonna be?!” Syd yelled at her phone through the noisy bar.

Everyone was on a different wave of conversation, ranging from sports to food to whatever new show they were hooked on. The buzz of chatter around them combined with the pulsing music and lack of food in his system was enough to create a growing migraine in Carmy’s head. He gladly took a swig of the beer in front of him to dumb out the increasing sensation as he waited for Syd to hang up on you. He thought their reaction to joining them would be one of distaste or discomfort but his first drink had been on Sweeps, who was glad to finally see him outside the perimeters of The Beef. 

“I like what you’ve done to the place.” He said after finishing the second beer. “But you gotta lighten up, man. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Also you could use a tan. Try going out in the sun every once in a while!” He joked and a genuine laugh had left Carmy’s lips for the first time in forever.

“She’s on her way!” Sydney yelled to the table and everyone acknowledged it before returning to their conversations.

“Does she know I’m here?” He asked her over the noise, a bit concerned whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

“Yeah! I told her we’re all here!” She answered and of course she would tell you, because as far as they were concerned, nothing out of the ordinary had happened between you two.

His hand began to grow clammy and he took another hefty swig of the amber liquid to try and calm the nerves down. At least the music was loud enough to drown out the sound of his thoughts, he'd have to make due with that for now. The chatter transitioned into anecdotes about the stupidest things they had done as teens and they spent the next ten minutes debating whether Angel stealing single batteries from the family packs at Walmart counted as kleptomania or not. By his third beer, he felt his shoulders lose a bit of the perpetual weight that had been sitting on them since he had arrived back in Chicago; the music felt more bearable, his laughs lighter and his nerves almost down to a hum. 

They had been lucky enough to get a booth table by the windows, the sight of River North’s night life was in full bloom behind the old stained glass and his eyes wandered to the new perspective he had been granted of the old neighborhood. Between neon signs and moving cars he saw you from afar. Standing patiently for the little human to move on the crosswalk light. You looked like a radiant ray of moonlight, with loose curls framing your face like a dark halo and even though he had found you absolutely beautiful with your paint splattered overalls, this was something entirely different, something that would have him losing his balance if he wasn’t already sitting down.

He watched you move your boot-covered feet closer towards the bar, and with each stride on the long skirt, the slit up your thigh revealed a glimpse of lovely tan skin with swirling designs he had known no existence of until then, but now wanted to discover more of. Golden rings contrasted against the black jacket covering your arms as you raked your fingers through your hair and turned towards the window where he had shamelessly been gawking at you. A small smile covered your previous serious features and you waved nervously before disappearing through the entrance.

He shuffled in his seat and wished he would have at least run some water through his hair before leaving, but looking around at everyone’s post work attire, he figured he’d be fine. A cheer of ‘Hey's was heard through the group as you approached the table and you made a little dance once you reached them. You scooted into the booth beside the edge by Carmy and threw a nervous smile in his direction.

“Sorry I’m late! Two fuckin Ubers canceled on my last minute. I swear I was about to start walking!” You yelled exasperated.

“Well you’re already two drinks behind so start catchin’ up!” Marcus said, calling the waiter over and ordering another round of beers and a double  shot of tequila for each one.

“Oh it’s gonna be like that then, huh?!” You asked him with raised brows and a smile.

“Uhh, yeah!” He mimicked you in a pitched valley girl accent and the table roared in laughter.

They went around talking about their day and how Richie, as he does, had death threatened Fak for suggesting he should go to anger management classes. Your shoulder rubbed alongside Carmy’s in the small booth as you laughed at their stories and the friction along with your delicate perfume was making it hard to concentrate on anything at all. He took a couple of fries from the dish at the center of the table to keep his mouth occupied as he listened to Syd and you argue about the best contestant in a new baking show you were both watching. 

The shots came with cheers, and as everyone took the small glass in one hand and a lemon wedge in the other, they went around the table to say something they cheered for,

“I’m thankful that I got tomorrow off so I can get as hammered as I want!” Cheered Sweeps and it was followed by a choir of Boo’s from everyone.

“I guess I'm thankful that I got a job that I actually like.” Marcus continued and the Boo’s turned to Aw’s.

“And I’m very thankful for you, bunch of idiots.” You finished shily and only Marcus, who was sitting across from you, noticed your eyes linger a little too long on Carmy.

Their little glasses clinged against one another and everyone downed the transparent liquid with a scrunched face. 

The conversations broke into groups again, and he took his shot at catching your attention before anyone else. He gently bumped his shoulder against yours while he took a sip of alcohol for courage. From his side view he saw you had turned up to look at him and noticed you swallow hard scanning his features. When he turned to you, a soft smile covered your face and it was hard not to smile back.

“Hey” You whispered, bumping your shoulder back to his softly.

“You..um, you look really nice.” He said leaning towards you so you could hear him better above the music, and also so no one else would  notice his words. 

His breath ghosted over the skin of your ear and you were thankful for the jacket covering your already bumpy skin.  

“Thank you.” You whispered, cheeks warm.

“Look, I’m sor-“ 

“I’m sorry for-“

You interrupted each other, then laughed waiting for the other to continue. 

“You go.” You insisted.

He breathed in deep and turned his torso towards you to give himself a false sense of privacy in the crowded space. “I’m really sorry If I made you feel uncomfortable… back at the office.” He started and his eyes jumped between yours trying to decipher your thoughts through your expressions. “That was not cool and kinda creepy and I don’t want you to go because of me-”

“Wait-”

“You’re a great addition to the team, honestly one of the best, you’re good at calming Richie when he gets stressed and you're fast and precise, and you're good for me too-” He kept rambling, his gaze now focused in his hands.

“Carmy-” You tried to interrupt again with no avail.

“And I’d hate for you to leave cause I’m an impulsive jackass and I wouldn’t know what to do if I.. couldn’t see you.. anymore.” He finished swallowing hard, his eyes dragged slowly from his hands to your features and he grew scared of the confession that had left his mouth under the rambling.

All his words separately meant something different, they meant a thank you, a praise, a gentle pat on the back. But not like this, not all together, jumbled and tied with a string of revelation that there might be something more than what he was saying. He saw your chest raise with the motion of a heavy breath and your eyebrows were scrunched in concentration over his face. The background noise had been covered over by the thumping of blood rushing to his head and for a second his heart stopped at the idea that he had dug himself a deeper grave than he had wished for. He stared back at your eyes unable to look away, the ‘Fuck it’ from a couple hours ago now sour on his tongue.

“Do you wanna talk outside?” You whispered leaning forward so he could hear you, brows still knotted together.

You didn’t wait for his answer as you reached down to his tightly clasped hands and wedged your fingers carefully to get them to separate. You held on tightly then began to slip out the booth telling everyone you were gonna get more drinks for the table, before getting lost in the sea of bodies standing around. He let you guide him through the free spaces between the swaying crowd of drunks as he did his best to calm the growing anxiety in his chest. All he could concentrate on were your delicate fingers brushing softly around his hand.

This is what he wanted, right? This is why he had come knowing you would be here, to tell you how he felt, to clear things up, and since the cat’s head was already out the bag, might as well let the rest of the body out. 

‘Let it rip’ his brother’s words danced in his mind and he smiled humorlessly at how they teased him with how easy it sounded to do so.

**********

Fuuuck. You had not planned this far ahead. At least not this early into the night. You expected to do this with maybe another three drinks in your system, when you could still hold a serious conversation without crying for getting rejected cause the voice in your head would slur that it was his loss and that you were still a bad bitch. It also didn’t help that you had smoked a bit while getting ready and the cloudy haze around your brain had not subsided. You were coherent, yes, which was important, however you were not very good with your self control and with the way your throat had closed up at the sight of his profile while he simply took a drink, god you knew this was gonna be hard. 

His confession still swam in the swampy waters of your foggy brain as you pulled both of you through the crowded space. Your hand was tightly wrapped around what you could hold of his and when you finally spotted an exit, your heart leaped in your chest at the idea of how the conversation would go. The emergency door stood tall between the bathroom entrances, an inaudible creek vibrated through the metal as you pushed yourself against it and a cold breeze of air welcomed your face when you both stepped out into the alley. You expected a few smokers to linger around, but then again many who did choose to smoke did it in front of the place, not the side alley like rats; so you were alone. Great.

You finally let go of his hand, a cold absence replacing it, then leaned against the wall in front of the metal exit, staring at him. He took a cigarette from the packet inside his jacket and lit it, mimicking your actions by the door. He took a couple calming drags while both of you thought about what you were gonna say next. 

You could play this two ways: One. Pretend like you hadn’t understood what he said at the booth and say the whole office thing had been a misunderstanding. A little gaslighting wouldn’t hurt, right? It was for your own good anyway, the both of you. The pessimist in you was sure Carmen didn’t know what he was getting into and he already had enough problems trying to get the restaurant off the ground to add yours to the mix. 

And two, Tell him how you felt, fuck the rule. You had known him long enough to know he wasn’t the type of guy you established the rule for in the first place. He was nothing similar to the mutherfuckers you had met in your other jobs, he was nice and patient and cared more about others than he liked to admit; and for fuck’s sake if the bar was already on the floor, finding someone like that and also have him be hot, was not a common occurrence. 

You took your eyes off your boots scraping the pavement to look at him. ‘Why is he so hot and so miserable?!’ you thought as you watched him with his cigarette, the gloss in your eyes making any source of light into twinkling stars. His eyes met yours and normally you would avert your gaze. Normally, however, you would not be in this situation and normally you would not be feeling this angry all of a sudden. 

“You thought I was gonna leave?” You asked. ‘Solid start’.

“I thought I freaked you out.” He shrugged. “You walked out on me.”

“Yeah, and how did you expect me to react?” You respond a little more defensive than you intended. 

“Look, I know it was fucked and I’m sorry, okay? I just-” He took another drag to calm himself down then looked back at you, ocean eyes harboring a storm. “I don’t know what happens to me… when you're around. You make my chest not hurt as much and I- It feels easier to breathe with you.” 

You stayed silent, staring at him through hooded eyes and heavy breaths, trying to keep your mind clear because how could you concentrate on anything when he spoke so sweetly about you? You had to keep reminding yourself that this was for the best. Around you, the low rumble of the music vibrating past the walls could still be heard, like a distant world existing outside your current bubble of angst.

“Wh-what did you mean?” He asked after a long silence and he noticed the confusion in your blank stare. “When you said you needed to get me out your system, what was that?” 

Carmy noticed the subtle change in your expression, how your shoulders tensed and you diverted your gaze to anything else but him. You wanted to shout that it meant exactly that, he was so deep in your thoughts that some days you had caught yourself shamelessly daydreaming about the two of you together, in any way possible. But the last rational part in your brain held your tongue from speaking, you couldn’t say it, there was too much at risk to do so and he was not helping with the way his words were making your chest swell. You were getting angry because this would be so much easier if he was just another asshole. 

You shrugged looking at him. “Nothing, i-it just came out.” ‘Gaslighting it is.’ 

He exhaled a humorless laugh, his eyes still trained on you. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” He said with a last drag of his cig before flicking it to the ground and stomping on it.

He raked a hand through his hair and shameful observation had taught you that this meant Carmy was getting stressed.

“Okay, fine! You wanna know?!” You finally spat with anger, “Because I fuckin’ like you, Carmen!” You raised your arms in exasperation. “Because you have no fuckin’ idea what it does to me when you look at me like-like that!” His gaze was fixated on you, head slightly tilted down and to the right, jaw tensed. His brows dropped lower in a scowl and a jolt of lightning traveled down your back at his expression.

“And why didn’t you say anything!” He yelled back.

“Oh, seriously?! What did you want me to say? I need two roast beef sandwiches, hold the peppers and FYI Carmy, I got a crush on you?!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know then?!” He said in frustration, taking a step closer to you and the height difference was significantly more noticeable when he wasn’t shrinking into himself.

“You weren’t supposed to, that’s the fuckin’ point!” His shoulders fell slightly and the strength in your voice lowered. “I just... needed to get over you and you’d never know. Get you out my system with someone else and never have to mention it.”

Carmy tried to ignore the flashes of your rosy cheeks and short breaths, panting under someone else. ‘This is not the time.’ he reminded himself.

“So, what? You were just gonna leave me believing I did somethin’ wrong to you when you actually liked me?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave.” You whispered. The words get caught on your tongue and you take a deep breath before continuing.

“But the last time I liked someone at my job it… It didn’t turn out right.” You struggle to calm your racing thoughts, his eyes a distracting lighthouse guiding you back in. His brows knitted together. “I don’t wanna go through that again, Carmy” You said defeated.

“You don’t know if it’s gonna be the same.” His voice pleaded just above a whisper, lower than you were used to when it came to him or his cousin.

“I don’t think I can risk it.” You whispered back, doing your best to keep the tears under control.

You were both silent for a while, until Carmy began to shake his head slowly.

“No, no, no you don’t get to do that, okay? You don’t get to tell me you like me then immediately blow me off cause some asshole in the past hurt you.” He took the last two strides in your direction, his chest now so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

You pushed yourself against the wall from the sudden proximity. Your breath seized in your lungs as you felt both his hands cup the sides of your face and tilt it up to stare deep into the pits of your eyes. You swallowed hard at all the scenarios flashing through your head, the turn of events giving you whiplash. He lowered his forehead slowly to yours, your eyelashes fluttered trying to close, but your eyes were fixed on his. Carmy’s face was so close, you could feel the heat off his breath. The smell of tobacco that lingered around you and mixed with the smokey wood scent that seemed to cling to him after a long workday, had your head grasping onto the last threads of self control left in  you.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and I’ll do it, I’ll never touch you again or mention it, I promise.” He rambled, a soft desperation clear in his voice. “I won’t even look in your direction but please, please don’t ever think for a second that I would do anything to hurt you.” He whispered.

Even in the darkness of the alley, you could tell his irises had swallowed the last drop of blue, now so dark and glossy you could see your own despair reflected back to you. You swallowed hard to get rid of the cottonmouth and his eyes flickered towards your lips for less than a second. ‘God, why couldn’t you just say yes?!’ Your head screamed at you through the dissipating smog of weed and untampered emotions.

He had not only given you his heart on a golden platter, but had plated it himself and set the table for you, too. Now it was solely your decision if you wanted to take it or not, if you wanted to guard his heart next to yours for safekeeping or let it finish crumbling on the grime covered pavement. You stared at his features in contemplation and scanned your brain for all the ways it told you this could go wrong. And yet, even after a thousand scenarios came up, you held in protective arms the few ones that bloomed a warm excitement in your chest. You wanted to, even if it was just this once, to be fearless, jump into the unknown regardless of the outcome. You truly did.

“It’s not that easy.” You whispered, shutting your eyes to avoid the look of hurt haunting over his. His hands faltered their grip on your face and soon a cold rush of air replaced the warm contact.

You reopened your gaze to see him standing with his hands now resting on the brick beside your head, defeated. His stare was glued to his tattooed skin, not even daring to look directly at you anymore and you knew, he was withdrawing back to the depths of his mind where one goes when you’ve been completely shattered. You could see his jaw tense up, probably in anger and he was well in his right to be so. He had bared his feelings to you and you had massacred them all over the walls in less than five words. ‘It’s better like this.’ You tried to convince yourself.

“I’m so sorry Carmy, but I-I can’t-”

He cleared his throat then pushed himself back with enough force that it almost felt like he had pulled on an invisible string against your chest.

“No- uh, no I get it.” he sniffled “You’re right, it’s better this way.” He did his best to avoid your gaze, settling it on anything around the empty alley. “I’m gonna go buy the drinks and then head home.”  He said walking back to the door.

You watched still from your position by the wall how he reached for the handle pulling the metal open. An immediate rumble of bass surrounded the once empty area as Carmy walked halfway in then stopped. He slightly turned his head in your direction, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“Don’t-uh.. don’t worry about.. this.” He said to you over the music. “I meant what I said about not sayin’ anythin’.” He rose his head to the sky for a couple seconds then back down. “So, don’t worry about it.” The gravel under his feet groaned as he turned to look at you one last time, “See you at work, chef.”

He was gone with a slam of the door. You stayed motionless, fixated on the space his body had occupied only seconds before. The ghost of his touch still tingled on your face and it took you an unspeakable amount of strength to not break down for the second time that day. It was already atrocious enough that you had committed what was probably the second worst mistake of your life by letting him go, but if you let yourself fall apart in a dingy unlit back alley of some bar, you have truly found a point lower than you thought possible. So with a very, very shaky breath and with the vast expertise as a teen with an overprotective mother, you pulled yourself together, sniffled back the tears and made your way inside ready to pretend like the last fifteen minutes had never happened.

When you reached the booth with your friends, a tray of five shots sat untouched on the table and a sour taste invaded your mouth to see the sixth had been downed and turned upside down at the end of the tray. 

“Carmy said your mom called, is everything okay?” Sydney asked as soon as you were in earshot, the pit in your stomach grew again  because even after hurting him, he still considerate enough to cover for your absence.

“Uh… yeah she’s fine. Just wanted to know when I’d be back.” You lied as you slid back into the booth.

With no hesitation, you reached for one of the glasses and downed it straight, no lemon. Syd gave a confused look to your expressionless face and even reached for one of the glasses to prove it was actually alcohol when you were laughing at Angel and Macus’ arm wrestling.

The liquid burned a distracting path down your throat and kept your attention diverted enough from the emotions you knew you’d have to figure out when the fog had lifted. For now, at least you would allow yourself to play with the idea that everything was fine and that your chest wasn’t shattering with every whiff of his lingering scent that permeated on your jacket.

The rest of the night was a blur of strawberry daiquiris, tequila shots, terrible karaoke and the guys competing over who could throw the furthest a traffic cone they found off the side of the road while walking you and Syd home, at almost four in the morning. They had dropped you off with a chorus of slurred ‘bye byess’ and kept walking in the direction of “Adventure” as Sweeps had called it. On your way up, the usual still stairs had become a workout to climb and Syd had almost landed on her ass on the second and third floor, before tripping on the forth and sliding belly first down half the flight of stairs. You did your best to contain the laughter after seeing her reaction to finally landing with nothing but a bruised chin and ego, but her surprised face was enough to have you slumping on the last step and heaving with tears in your eyes. After you both caught your breath, you reached towards her and held her hand until you were in the safety of your room.

You giggled drunk while changing into your pajamas and turned to Sydney, telling her about your foolproof plan of going home with a stranger to get Carmy out of your head.

“I don’t get it.. why not jus’ like, bang Carmy, right? And get it over with?” She said between hiccups as you both climbed into your bed.

“It’s jus’ not the same!” You whined, turning off the light. “He’s too good for that.” You heard Syd groan beside you and you’re glad the lights were off so she couldn’t see you rolling your eyes at her. “He is!”

You shimmied under the covers and stared at the glow in the dark stickers on your ceiling, the alcohol making them swim around the blank canvas like shooting stars.

“He’s sweet and kind and… funny in like a fucked up, kinda tragic way..” you giggle “and he’s so fuckin’ hot, Sydney! So hot! Every time he looks at me with those eyes I want him to bend me over the expo an-“ you feel a soft smack against your face and the plushness of the pillow drowns out your laughs. 

Syd groaned in disgust at the image you planted in her head “Dude gross! Why would I ever need to know that?!” She said taking the pillow back from you. 

You giggled again and turned to Syd’s silhouette, softly combing back the braids that rested on her shoulder to distract yourself. “I think I really fucked up tonight, Syddy.” You finally admitted in the darkness of your safe space and heavily intoxicated. 

Sydney hummed in question and you knew you only had a few moments of clarity before falling unconscious. You took the end of one of her braids and used it to tickle under her nose to keep her awake a little longer while you failed to understand the many emotions in your head.

“I think he hates me now.” You said softly, a small tear sliding out your eye and quickly disappearing into the soft fabric of your pillow.

She scratched at her nose in frustration then slightly slapped her palm against your forehead. You laughed softly but continued to bug her.

“He could never hate you, he loves you too much.” She mumbled carelessly, readjusting herself and swinging a leg up on your hip under the duvet.

Your cheeks felt warm at the idea of love and even though you knew it was too soon to call it that, you couldn’t avoid the fuzzy feeling the word brought to your insides. ‘Oh to be loved’ you thought ‘and by Carmy of all people’. 

“You can’t know that.” You said with a sniffle, caressing the tip of her braid now on your own nose. You liked how it tickled.

Syd sighed before lifting her head as best she could in her drunk and half asleep state and slurred your name “Please, that man has been tripping-over-his-feet in love with you since day one.” She paused to pull her hair from your hands and adjust the pillow under her. “You two are the only idiots who haven’t noticed.” Then laid her head back down with a soft smack.

A new sensation filled your chest, one you hadn’t really given a name to before because there hadn’t been a reason to. It was a warmth that spread from the crown of your head down to the tips of all your extremities as your friend’s words floated in your head. A slow smile extended across your face and with the last waves of consciousness you decided to put an end to all the doubt and talk to him tomorrow, the stupid rule be damned. 

Capter 4.

Taglist: @pearlstiare and that’s it lmao

[suggs444]

Bad For Buisness:

William Afton/Steve Raglan x Reader

Sypnopsis: You find out your boss, Steve, who is also your secret lover, has a false identity. As well as an unknown history. You attempt to be reasonable, to set things right, but your boss .. well, he knows you all too well.

TW: swearing, degrading, manipulating, implied sexual actions.

Authors note: Hi, Suggs here. So this is my first x reader that I’ve written in a long long time. And it’s my first ever William Afton based one too. I literally saw the movie and I was 🙈🙈 whenever peepaw was on screen. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk if you want more / a part two. Thanks for reading !! <33

Gif by brotherdusk

..

“I should tell everyone!”

You protest, boldly, standing on the other side of Afton’s desk. Your arms cross in an attempt to assert your dominance in this situation - which is rare. William was usually the one with the upper hand. You were foolish to think otherwise, even now.

There he sat with his sunken frame, slouched in his office chair, hands loosely intertwined in his lap. Brows raised in mocking surprise, almost expecting, as if waiting for you to come to your senses. He stares, and you find yourself stuck for words.

You gulp, hard. Frozen in his icy gaze.

“I mean — you’re lying to our consumers! To your staff - to me! Your names not Steve Raglan ..” Your words drift off, lacking much defence and reason.

“It’s bad for business.”

You continue, proudly, pointing your chin upward. As though that sentence completely justified your debate.

William’s head tilts slightly,

“Since when do you care about business quality, y/n?”

You didn’t care. He knew it, and he knew you all too well. Well enough to know you didn’t give a shit about the business, or anyone else. You were upset about not knowing every little detail about him. You’re obsessed. Needy, he knows. Only the two of you mattered. The secret of your intimacy. The sneaking off, the inappropriate relationship. Now, that? That was bad for business.

“Hm?” He presses, condescendingly, brows raising more while waiting for an answer as he sits forward out of his slouch. His exposed forearms coming to lean against the table.

You’re quiet, already. Defeated.

He sucks on his teeth.

“That’s what I thought.”

He leans back into his chair with an exhale, shaking his head.

“I’ve done some things, y/n.” He confesses, “-bad things.”

You can only stare at him.

He pushes himself out of his chair, eyes remaining pinned to yours. You knew your boss wasn’t a good man, fuck, maybe that’s what drew you to him, but you hadn’t expected this.

“What things?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, stern. Stern enough that you know not to push it any more. You bite your tongue, suddenly feeling small by his towering height. William wasn’t a necessarily attractive man, or at least not for everyone. He was older than you. Much older. But clever, so very clever - and wise. Something about his stability, the way he carried himself. The reassurance he gave you and the praise. You could hardly resist him.

“Had to cover my tracks. Tie up loose ends, do you understand? That’s my business, it’s need to know and you don’t.” His voice, a nasal drawl as he slowly rounded the desk, the pads of his fingers drawing along the old wood as he reached you.

“And I certainly don’t need you,” he pauses, pressing his torso against your back. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his scent, a mix of cheap cologne and tobacco.

“-running your sweet mouth and spilling my secrets.” He continues. You melt against him despite the firmness of his tone. You were a slave to your desires. Only he could make the meanest things sound so indulging.

You hum at the closeness. Trying to remain strong headed despite your vision clouding from the intensity of the lustful haze you had for this man. You weren’t weak, just devoted.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You do.

“Do you understand?”

You nod stubbornly. He tuts,

“Use your words, y/n.”

“I understand.”

He shoots you a unsatisfied look.

You sigh, “I understand, sir.”

He smiles then, cockily, knowing he had won this time. His eyes creasing beneath his glasses.

“That’s my girl.” He coos, a warm hand coming to cup your cheek. Your eyes close, savouring the action, leaning into his palm. He was always so busy, so intimacy came slim. A rarity. You learnt to enjoy the small gestures.

The warmth was gone the next second. Opening your eyes to find him returning to his seat. You whined softly, turning to him as he settled back in his chair - instantly going back to his paperwork.

“That’s it?” You plead.

His eyes shot up to you over his glasses. Almost surprised you were still there. He sighs through his nose.

“Tell you what,” he lifts his head to give you his full attention.

“You’ve got the rest of this week to prove you can keep your mouth shut. I wanna trust you, y/n. I can do that, can’t I?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mr Afto-“ You stop yourself, realising you’re using his real name, his secret name. He’s glaring.

“-Mr Raglan.” You correct yourself, smiling wearily.

“Much better. Keep that up, and I’ll make up for lost time. I’ll give you what you need.”

You sigh sweetly, nodding. The mere thought of that making your knees weak.

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

You reassure, shooting him one last smile as you turn and leave.

The week can’t end soon enough.

[yankstrash]

I’ve Got You ~ Rutger McGroarty

Warnings: Mentions of attempted SA, swearing, underage drinking, slight physical harm & fighting

Dating a UMich hockey player meant that all your Friday nights consisted of going to a party at the sophomore house, and tonight was no different. You stood in the kitchen, clad in skinny jeans and your favorite red tank top that revealed just enough cleavage, drinking and laughing with Luke and Ethans girlfriends. The three of you sipped mindlessly on whatever sugary punch the freshman boys whipped up tonight as you watched them yell at each other from across the pong table. 

Looking over at your boyfriend, Rutger, you made brief eye contact as he sent a smirk and wink your way. You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head, a small blush appearing on your cheeks at the sight of your beautiful boy. 

To a lot of people, Rutger had a very intimidating demeanor. While the people closest to him knew he was a total sweetheart and extremely caring, those not close to him did not. He was 6’1”, built, athletic and overall had an intimidating look to his face, making it easy to ward off boys at parties who dared even look your way. It wasn’t usually a problem anyways, as you and Rutger were attached at the hip 90% of the time at parties. Tonight, however, was one of those rare nights where you both kept more to your respected friend groups; at least for now. 

After a few more minutes of giggling at anything and everything, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, as you had just finished your third cup of punch. You approached the bathroom and were met with a line at least 10 people deep.

Fuck that, you had to go. 

Taking advantage of your hockey girlfriend title, you wandered upstairs, which was usually off limits at parties, to use one of the guys' bathrooms. Off limit rules do not apply to girlfriends, duh. As you approached the top of the stairs, you swore you felt a presence not far behind you, but you ignored it assuming it was just one of the guys. You slipped into Ethans bathroom and took care of your business. Just as you finished drying your hands, your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Pulling it out, you smiled as you saw a text from Rutger.

“Where are you? I don’t spot your pretty face in the kitchen anymore :(”

Your smile grew wider as you read the text, shooting one back saying that you were in the bathroom and would be down in a second. Even when you and Rutger weren’t side by side at a party, he always liked you to be in his eyesight to keep an eye on you. 

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you turned and opened the bathroom door, but were barely out of it when you were approached by an unfamiliar boy. Normally this wouldn’t make you uneasy, there were random guys lingering all over the party. However, the only ones allowed up here were the hockey guys, and he was not one of them. 

You jumped back slightly as he was standing quite close to the door frame. 

“My bad, didn’t mean to scare you.” The boy said. 

“It’s okay.” You replied, debating on whether or not you should mention how he’s not allowed up here. You decided to just leave it be, he probably was just going to do his business and leave. Deciding to stay silent, you tried to move past him and head back downstairs, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m Jake.” He said, standing in your way. 

You sent him a shy smile back, nodding your head slightly, not returning the name gesture.

“And you are?” He pressed on when you stayed silent.

“I-” You started, but couldn’t find your words as you were growing more nervous as the seconds passed. “Sorry I just need to get back downstairs.” Was all you said as you managed to slip by him. Before you could get too far however, he grabbed your wrist.

“That’s not your name.” He said, as he kept a tight grip on your wrist that continued to grow stronger, sure to leave a mark.

“Please let go of me.” You said, barely audible as your voice grew shaky.

“I guess I could go without a name, five minutes is all I’ll need anyways.” He replied, as he started to drag you back towards the bathroom. Your heart began beating out of your chest as you realized what was happening.

“Please let go of me!” You repeated, using your free hand to attempt to pry your other one out of his grip, but he was much bigger and stronger than you. “I have a boyfriend.” You said. You wanted to start wailing for Rutger, but it would be no use. You were all the way upstairs and the party was way too loud for anyone to hear you. 

“Pretty sure if you had a boyfriend he wouldn’t let a girl as pretty as you be wandering around a party by yourself.” Was all he said as he attempted to keep dragging you towards the bathroom. 

Using all your strength possible, you managed to slip your wrist out of his grip, kneeing him in the groin before turning and flying down the stairs. You could’ve sworn you missed over half of them, but you didn’t care. Your only concern right now was getting to Rutger.

Or Ethan. Or Luke. Or Mark. Or Mackie. Or literally anyone you knew at this moment. 

Pushing your way past people, you finally made it back to the kitchen. The first familiar face you saw was Mark, and you ran straight up to him, crashing into his chest. He barely budged as he was much bigger than you, and used his hands to steady you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Y/N?” He asked, confused. “What’s going on?” Tears began to spill out of your eyes as you tried to catch your breath, heaving in and out. 

“This guy, he- he.” You choked out, but your words kept getting caught in your throat. That was all any of the boys needed to hear before they were scrambling off to find Rutger. 

“He what? What guy? What did he do?” Mark rapidly fired questions, as he pulled you slightly away from his chest to talk to you face to face. 

Just as you were about to open your mouth to try to explain, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped immediately, clinging back to Mark before you realized who it actually was. 

“Y/N! Baby, it’s me, it’s me, it’s Rut!” You heard the voice of your boyfriend, and wasted not a second more releasing Mark and spinning around to embrace your boyfriend. 

“Hey, hey, shhh, shhh, calm down baby it’s okay, I’m right here, I’ve got you.” 

You gripped his waist tightly, as if he would disappear if you held on any looser. He used one hand to cradle the back of your head, as the other was rubbing your back up and down soothingly. 

He managed to pull you away enough to be able to talk to you. “Baby, can you tell me what happened?” He asked, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out were choked sobs. You were terrified. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t managed to get away from that guy. 

Rutger didn’t pry, he only held your head against his chest again and soothed you. He held you for a few more moments before trying to get you to talk again.

“Y/N, sweet girl, I will hold you as long as you need, but I need you to tell me what happened and with whom so I can take care of it. Then I promise I will not let you go for the rest of the night.” Rutger reassured. With that, you pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

“I was using E-Ethan’s b-bathroom a-and some g-guy tried to…” You started, choking on your words. “He t-tried to pull me in w-with him when I was trying t-to l-leave.” You managed to get out in between shaky breaths. Rutgers body immediately went rigid, and his expression froze as he clenched his jaw. 

“And he hurt me.” You sobbed out the last part, which made Rutgers head immediately whip down to examine your body for marks. You held up your wrist to him and showed him the bruises that were already forming. He gently took your arm in his hand as he looked at your wrist, his anger only growing more as the seconds passed.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask who did this, there was an unknown presence approaching the group of hockey boys. “There you a- oh fuck.” The unknown presence said, but you recognized the voice. It was Jake, who stopped briskly in his tracks as he saw what he just walked into. About ten hockey players, one of them being your boyfriend who currently had steam coming out of his ears.

“Baby, is that him?” Rutger asked, as you turned around in his arms and met the eyes of the guy who tried to assault you. 

You nodded your head yes and gripped onto Rutger tighter, which made him feel guilty about letting go of you, but he had to take care of this guy.

“Luca.” Rutger said, still staring straight at the guy, who tried walking away before Nolan and Mark grabbed him. 

Luca was right up beside Rutger once he said his name. “Take her, please. I need to go deal with this.” Rutger said, as he began to let go of you. When you felt him loosening his grip on you, you only clung tighter. 

“No no, please, please don’t leave me!” You said, as tears began falling again. Rutger felt so guilty for leaving you, as all he wanted to do was hold you as tight as possible and tell you everything was going to be okay. And he would, right after he taught Jake a lesson. 

“Y/N, baby I promise I will be back in 5 minutes, okay? You stay with Luca, he’ll keep you safe. I know you love your Wu Poo hugs.” Rutger said, using the nickname you had given Luca, giving you one last squeeze before passing you over to his best friend. 

If Rutger couldn’t be with you in this moment, you were glad Luca was, as he was also one of your closest friends that you trusted with your life. Releasing your boyfriend, you clung to Luca. 

“I will be back soon love, I promise.” Rutger said, giving you a kiss on your head and turning to Luca. “Do not leave her side, and do not let her see any of this.” Rutger said in Luca’s ear as he nodded. 

“And you.” Rutger said, whipping around and looking at Jake who was still in the grasp of Nolan and Mark. “How dare you touch my girlfriend.” He said, walking up to Jake and ripping him right from Nolan and Mark with ease. “Let’s go have a little chat, yeah?” He finished, dragging the guy outside with half the guys in his trail.

You tried to look over to where Rutger was taking him, but Luca used his hand to shield your face from the scene. “No no, don’t look Y/N. It’s okay, cmon, let’s go sit down.” Luca said as he led you over to the couch. You both sat down as Luca pulled you into his side while you placed your head on his chest and held him tightly. He rubbed your back in a soothing manner. Luca knew how much you meant to Rutger, and he was going to keep you safe while he was gone. 

“Y/N?” You heard, as you looked up from Lucas' chest to see Ethan’s girlfriend, who was your closest girlfriend on the team. “E just told me what happened.” She said as she sat down next to you, and you released Luca to hug your friend. 

“Want me to go help Rut kick his ass?” She asked, which earned a laugh from you. “You definitely could if Eddy would let you.” A couple of the other guys came over to make sure you were okay and talk to you to distract you from whatever Rutger was doing outside. 

Within minutes, the backdoor opened and the guys all filed back inside. Rutger looked around for you, unable to spot you. “Where’s my Y/N?” He asked frantically. Nolan spotted you on the couch and pointed. Rutger immediately rushed over to you, shaking out his hand in the process as it was already bruising from what he did to Jake. 

“Baby.” He said, kneeling down in front of where you were sitting on the couch. You sat up immediately and wrapped your arms around his neck. You didn’t even care what he had done to Jake, you were just glad he was back.

“I’m taking you home.” He said as you nodded your head and you began to stand up, your arms still around Rutgers neck as he took this as a sign that you wanted to be carried. In one swift motion he lifted you off the couch and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I’m taking her home, I’ll see you guys later.” Rutger said to the group as he released one hand from your back to do his handshake with Luca and thank his best friend for looking after you. 

Rutger wasn’t drinking tonight, so you two got into his car and headed off. The car ride was mostly silent besides Rut asking you whether you wanted to stay at your place or his place tonight, to which you responded his. 

Once you guy got to his apartment he opened your door for you and helped you out of the car, keeping his arm around your waist all the way till you got to his room. 

“Stay here baby.” He said as you sat down on his bed while he scurried off to get some of your clothes. You kept some clothes at his apartment seeing as you were there half the time. You sat on the edge of his bed, holding your arms in your hands. You felt distressed and unsettled after the events that took place tonight. 

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would make you feel a bit better. “Rut, I’m gonna shower real quick.” You said to him as he was gathering your clothes in his closet. 

“Okay baby, are you okay by yourself or do you want me to come with you?” He asked. You shook your head as you said, “I’ll be okay.” And headed off to his bathroom. 

You stepped into the shower, and mainly just stood under the water and let it hit you, trying to cleanse away what happened tonight. You kept thinking about what almost happened with Jake, and it made you feel uneasy and sick. After a while, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading back to Rut’s room.

When you got back, he was laying in bed on his phone. He sat up when he saw you and gestured towards the clothes on his bed. “Here you go baby.” He gently smiled as he handed you the clothes. You noticed it was a pair of your sleep shorts, underwear and one of your tank tops. 

You smiled weakly and took the clothes from him. “Could I wear one of your shirts?” You quietly asked. Ruts face softened at your question. You were so precious and fragile right now. “Of course you can.” He said as he got up to retrieve one for you.

He came back moments later with a Michigan hockey shirt in his hands. You dropped the towel from around you and slipped on your underwear and sleep shorts before you let your boyfriend slip his shirt on you, which draped down to your knees.

You picked up the towel and hung it back up in the bathroom while Rutger got situated in bed. Once you came back into his room, he was already laying down, waiting to hold you. “C’mere baby.” He cooed as you turned off his light and slipped into bed next to him, immediately clinging to him.

You laid right on top of him as he rubbed your back and calmed you down. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered so you could barely hear it. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” He said, and you lifted yourself up a bit to look at him in the dimly lit room.

“You were there, Rut. You were there when I came running to you. You made sure I was with someone you trusted and made sure I didn’t see anything while you dealt with the guy. You got me out of there and took care of me. You did everything you could, so please don’t beat yourself up over it.” You said, holding his face in your hands.

He swallowed hard and nodded his head. “Okay.” 

You leaned in and placed a long, gentle kiss on his lips, before pulling away and nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck. He kissed your forehead and ran his fingers up and down your back.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you more, and I will always protect you. I promise.”