#considering putting it all on a drive if someone wanted to read more than this

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

Fuckboy!Soap x shy!reader x Ghost p.3

Soap likes to think of himself as someone who’s not just a fuckboy.

But it’s hard to think that when, right now, he’s literally checking his phone more often than he did when nana was touch-and-go in the hospital, with his train line experiencing heavy delays from inclement weather.

He tilts the screen to his face for the thirtieth time in the last two minutes. Nothing.

Well, not nothing. There’s never nothing. Social media alerts. Hearts in games refilled. Reminders of all the shit he’s left in his cart across various shopping apps.

The emails. My god, the emails…

But it may as well be empty, seeing as the one thing he wants to see isn’t there.

The fuck was your problem, lately? Not responding to his texts when he used to see the read checkmark within thirty seconds alongside a typing bubble. Yeah maybe he’s not your boyfriend, and he doesn’t act all lovey dovey the way you want him to when he fucks you, and he doesn’t even look at you when he passes you on campus, and he typically ignores it when you say hey— that kinda hurts, and….

Whatever. He’s not the one under examination here. You’re being the problem right now.

He should move down the contact list. He has options.

But first he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on with you. It’s gonna drive him crazy. He has a beautiful mind, that way. Should’ve been a detective.

His first clue comes with your next class together, right at the start of the week. It’s a little colder. The heat in this wing of the building has been kinda spotty at best. He himself is wearing pants longer than basketball shorts, which is cause to alert the media.

You’re wearing something big and faded and black. It swallows you. It’s familiar. There’s some cracked, plastic design on the front that used to be a logo, probably. But maybe it’s familiar because you’ve worn it before— it’s not like he’s really paid much attention to what you’ve worn in the past, not unless it was short or low cut.

Simon’s been around the house even less than usual. And when he is home, the door to his room is closed. Weird, considering he’s always been one of those door-open freaks. Whatever, maybe he’s taken up jacking off more lately. God knows he’s never let Johnny set him up with someone.

You’ve been different. Smiley. Not that Soap would know or anything. But your errant behavior warrants a closer look. Tapping away at your phone under the table. Rushing out of class like you have somewhere to be. Almost skipping.

Maybe he’d gotten a little too lax with baiting you. Needed to recast the enchantment. Make you remember what you were clinging to hope for. Even the most reliable trap will fail if it’s not baited.

“Gonna be a rager this wknd at the house, bonnie. Wanna see u there <3”

He was flush with confidence. Even if you didn’t respond now— he’d see you there. Where else would you be on a Saturday night? You’re not the dating type.

Someone call the Audubon Society about this man, because when it comes to predicting the migratory patterns of birds, he’s always right. You’re there before the party is even in full swing. You’re wearing that black sweatshirt again— not the sexiest choice, but he can’t blame you for getting a little sloppy when he hasn’t been around to keep your back straight.

He puts on his best, wolfish grin and leans against the bannister of the staircase so that you won’t be able to help but—

Brush right past him. Up the stairs.

Straight to his room, then? Well, it had been a while since he’d given it to you, huh? Poor thing— suffering from withdrawals. Maybe that’ll teach you not to ignore him when he’s trying to magnanimously grace you with a dick appointment.

He follows, hot on your tail, just in time to feel the tickle of a breeze from the quick closing of a door.

And the door to his room stares back at him.

Wide open.

[badkitty3000]

Five Hargreeves NSFW Headcanons

Ok, so here are some smutty headcanons that I have developed for Five over time. Obviously, this is my personal version and if you’ve read any of my stories, you will recognize a lot of these! Also, these are intended to be with a female partner, even though I feel like Five could be with any gender or orientation. If he’s attracted to a person and has a connection with them, that’s all that matters. I just write him with cis women because that’s what I am and that’s what I know. Let me know if you think I missed any! 😊

Warnings: Smut! Sex! Turn back if you don't want smut!

Let’s start with relationships: Five does not have the patience, nor the inclination, to care about most people outside of his immediate family. He knows he’s smarter (a lot smarter) than the average human, and spending more time than he needs to with someone else and their tiny brain is highly irritating. He does not have a lot of friends and doesn’t feel the need for any. That does not mean he isn’t attracted to women and doesn’t notice them. He most definitely notices. And once in a while he may indulge in a drunken fling here and there. However, when he meets that one woman that lights a fire in him, then it's game over. He’s done for, head over heels, no one will ever come close, in love for all eternity. He’s not going to fall for just anyone, either. Aside from having a body that he wants to fuck all day for the rest of his life, you also have to be smart. And witty. And not put up with any of his shit. Just because he’s in love with you, does not mean he’s not going to slip up sometimes and say or do something to piss you off. But when you come back at him with some major attitude and fight, he will end up loving you even more. Five needs a spicy woman to put him in his place sometimes.

Blow Jobs: Holy shit, this man loves a good blow job! Nothing makes him hotter than watching you service him. He wants to shove you down on your knees and watch intently as you take him all the way into your mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat. And if you can handle it, he’s going to fuck your face. Grab your hair in his fist and thrust himself into you until you’re gagging and drooling, tears running down your cheeks. Maybe he’ll come down your throat, maybe he won’t. He’ll let you know first, though. But if you’re going to be in a relationship with him, you better get used to having his dick in your mouth.

Cunnilingus: He may want you to suck his cock, but he’s more than willing to pay back the favor. In fact, Five wants to eat you out like the starving man he once was. Your taste and your scent drives him wild and he’ll take as long as you need. In fact, sometimes, he won’t stop even if you want him to. You can be begging him to stop and to fuck you instead, but he’ll just hold you down by your hips and look up at you with that knowing smirk of his; his mouth shining with your juices, and shake his head. Denied. Then he’s back at it, sucking and licking and fucking your pussy with his tongue until you’re a shuddering, crying mess, and your back is arching off the bed.

Orgasms: Continuing on that theme, Five will not come until you have, at least once but preferably a couple of times. He considers this a personal challenge, and he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure you’re screaming and shaking before he’s satisfied enough to let himself go. Ok, sure, there are times when maybe he does not perform as amazingly as he’d like. Times when you drive him so fucking crazy with the way you’re writhing underneath him and looking at him with that sexy little pout of yours that he can’t hold back. He’ll feel guilty about it afterwards, though, so once he’s able to think straight again, he’ll make sure you’re taken care of.

Daddy kink: This is it, guys. The big one. The thing that he absolutely goes fucking crazy over. You want Five to lose his mind over you? Sit on his lap and call him Daddy. Purr it seductively next to his ear while you run a hand down his chest. Remind him of it when you’re on your knees, looking back up at him with wide, innocent eyes, as you slowly unbuckle his belt. Moan it loudly just before he makes you come. Odds are, he’s going to be the older one in the relationship, so it just plays into his preferred role of the man in charge. He is the Daddy, here, and don’t you fucking forget it.

Cum: He wants you either covered in it or filled with it. Five loves nothing more than to come inside of you, watching his load drip out of you, dripping down your legs or pooling on the sheets underneath you. But sometimes he can’t control himself, taking matters into his own hands, and covering your tits or your ass in ropes of his cum. Seeing his semen all over you lights up that feral part of his brain because it reminds him and you who you belong to. He usually does this when he’s not thinking clearly, and then will feel badly afterwards, especially if he didn’t tell you he was going to do it in the first place. You’ll have to tell him it’s ok and that you don’t mind; that you liked it, actually. After he feels better about himself, he’ll quickly blink into the bathroom and grab a washcloth or tissues to help clean you up.

Dominance: Obviously, Five likes to be the one calling the shots. He is going to tell you, or more likely order you, to do what he wants. Whether he wants you riding him hard and fast, or on your hands and knees so he can fuck you from behind, he’ll let you know. Or maybe he’ll just throw you around, no words needed, until he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to overpower you, hold you down, pin you against a wall, flatten you with his body on top of yours. He wants to grip your wrists tightly in his hands and shove your legs apart with his knees. You are his to do with what he wants, but that’s only because he knows that’s what you like. It might not even be anything rough or physical that shows he’s in charge. It could be a subtle look in your direction, or a small command of “Come here” or “No” to your request that has you weak in the knees and doing whatever he wants. You might have him wrapped around your finger in every other aspect of your relationship, but inside the bedroom he is the boss.

Submission: There is one tiny little caveat to that dominance thing. Once in a while, you get to be in charge. Yes, he likes to be the dominant one, but he’s also up for being the sub every now and then. Maybe it’s a spur of the moment thing that you hesitantly try, and for some reason, he’s into it that day. Maybe he’s really pissing you off and he needs to be reminded that you are not a doormat for his temper tantrums and misplaced rage. This is when things can really get fun. Now you get to order him around, and he’s going to listen. Make him to eat you out until you tell him to stop. Tie him up with his own necktie and make him really work for it. Tease him until his cock is so hard and leaking that he’s squirming and begging you to fuck him. Rub your wet pussy up and down his shaft, but don’t let him in, until he’s whining like a little bitch and you laugh before finally giving in. Call him a good boy and slap his ass. He will do it all for you, because he loves you. And maybe because he secretly likes it, too. And when it’s all over, he will pretend that it was a one-time deal and you are dreaming if you think that’s ever going to happen again. You know better, though.

Dirty talk: Oh boy, he’s a talker. Not only does Five like the sound of his own voice, he wants to hear yours, too. He is going to lay out his entire dirty plan for you, in detail, out loud while he gets started. Then, he’s going to share with you each of the thoughts running through his head during the act, as well. It all depends on his mood and whether he’s being rough or soft, demanding or sweet. “Fuck me harder” “You’re so tight, you feel amazing” “God damn it, I never want to stop fucking you” “You’re so beautiful” “I love you” “You’re all I need” He’s not shy about what he wants to hear from you, either. “Tell me who you belong to” “Whose cock do you want inside of you?” “Tell me how I make you feel” He wants to hear all of it. There may be a few times where he orders you to stay quiet while he teases and fucks you hard, but that won’t stop him from chattering away himself. Unless he’s got some severe laryngitis going on, you are going to hear A LOT from Five Hargreeves during sex.

Rough Sex: Yes! He wants to fuck you into the mattress, or wall, or floor, or whatever surface he can find. But not in a violent or cruel way; he knows how you like it and he’s going to deliver. He’s going to make getting your pussy pounded into oblivion feel amazing. Shoving his cock inside of you, your leg thrown over his shoulder, sweat forming on his body, hair flopping in his eyes, jaw set in concentration as he rams into you over and over until you are screaming. He loves you, he’ll remind you, as he flips you over onto all fours and continues to fuck you so perfectly that you won’t be able to think or walk straight for a week. We’re talking hair-pulling, ass-slapping, sucking and biting until you’re bruised kind of rough.

Sweet/slow Sex: Also yes! Five likes it rough sometimes, but he also likes to take his time with you. He loves you, you are his entire world, and he just can’t believe you love him, too. So, he will cover your body with soft kisses, caressing every part of you while he tells you how gorgeous you are. He will worship your body, because to him you are the most perfect woman in the world. He will never love anyone else but you, and as he fucks you slow and rhythmically, with your legs and arms wrapped tightly around him, he will gaze lovingly into your eyes and tell you so.

Insecurities: We all know Five is the most confident man in the room. He’s arrogant and bossy, and isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. But, he has a lot of trauma, and with that comes shame, and regret, and feelings of inadequacy. Most people don’t know this about him. Most people except for you. With you, he let’s his guard down. He is safe with you and he can finally be himself. When the nightmares come, or the panic attacks, or just the overwhelming thoughts of self-doubt that plague him, he turns to you for comfort. Sometimes that means just lying there with you in the dark, as he lays his head on your chest and you give him soft kisses and run your fingers through his hair. Other times, he may need more than that. Because he needs to feel you, all of you, to make sure you are real. His touches and kisses will lead to more, and it all has to do with love and not lust, and his vulnerability with you. You are his lifeline to the only real happiness he knows and he’s terrified of it being ripped away from him again. He will bury his face in the crook of your neck while he thrusts slowly into you, kissing you softly and trying desperately not to shed the tears that are already making their way down his face. He wants to hear you say you’ll never leave him because he doesn’t want to be alone. And when you reassure him over and over with more kisses and whispers of how much you love him, he will eventually relax once more.

Names: Five loves to give you pet names. Sometimes they give a sense of his dominance over you, or may even be sarcastic if he’s being a jerk (sweetheart and honey can sound completely different depending on his tone). Other times they are just a form of his love for you and even if they are old fashioned (darling, my love, etc), you love hearing them from him. He likes to have a special name for you that no one else calls you, too. And he generally saves a couple just for sexy times (“go on baby, come for me”) that he knows drives you crazy. You can have pet names for him, too, and you love knowing you are the only one that can get away with that.

His own name: Along the same lines, Five wants to hear you say his name. When you’re whispering it quietly as he’s trailing kisses down your neck. As you’re whining and begging pitifully when he teases you and holds out on you instead of just fucking you like you want. And especially when you are screaming his name so loud the neighbors down the street can hear. It totally plays into his ego to have you moaning his name while he’s making you lose your mind with his cock or his fingers. Once you start sobbing and crying out his name in pure ecstasy, he’s probably not going to be able to last much longer because that is music to his ears. But if you really want to kick it up a notch and pretty much guarantee he’s going to be violently coming inside of you in a matter of seconds, use his full name. Throwing in a ‘Number Five’ is like an automatic switch for him and its game over.

Loud sex: Continuing on…he wants you loud. This goes along with the dirty talk and moaning his name. He wants to hear you. He wants the neighbors to hear you. He wants the whole god damn city to hear you. And he wants everyone to know just who is fucking you. Maybe it will make run-ins with neighbors at the mailbox a little awkward in the morning, but Five doesn’t really give a shit. He wants his girl screaming so loud for him that it’s a wonder the cops don’t get called. And he’ll wear that badge of honor proudly, just adding to the other list of things he knows he’s the fucking king of.

Kissing: Five loves kissing you. He can’t get enough of it. Yes, he loves fucking and everything else sex-related, but kissing is always incorporated, even with the roughest of sex. Remember, this man is touch starved, but he also doesn’t like most people touching him. You are the exception. The fact that he has found someone to love and that loves him in return is nothing short of a miracle for him. So, kissing you and being kissed by you, is heaven. You can feel all of his love and desire for you in those kisses, whether they are soft and gentle, or hungry and desperate. He kisses you in the morning and when you leave for the day. He kisses you when you come home and before you go to sleep. Sometimes when you’re just standing there, washing dishes, or sitting reading a book, you will look so cute to him that he can’t help himself and he’ll tilt your face up towards him with a hand on your chin and kiss you until you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. He will also ask you to kiss him, stopping you as you walk by him by taking your hand and pulling you in close, an arm around your waist. “Kiss me. Please,” he’ll say quietly with the most innocent looking face and your heart will break for him. It’s the please that gets you. But he really doesn’t need to ask, because you will never not want to give him as many kisses as he needs.   

Masturbation: If anyone is an expert in jerking off, it’s Five Hargreeves. How could he not be? It was him and his hand/Dolores for 45 years, and a guy has needs. Would he prefer your mouth or your pussy to stick his dick in? Absolutely. But sometimes you’re not available, or the timing isn’t right, or you’re not in the mood. In which case, Five knows exactly how to efficiently and quickly rub one out and then go about his day. He loves to watch you finger yourself, though. Especially when he makes you tell him who you are thinking of while you’re doing it (always him). He also has no shame in masturbating in front of you while you are taking care of yourself. Sitting there, nonchalantly and slowly stroking his hard cock while he watches you play with yourself, maybe giving you directions while you do it. It’s just one of the ways he reminds you who’s in charge.

Praise: Yes, he will praise you for being a good girl. This kind of goes hand in hand with the Daddy kink. “Be a good girl for Daddy,” he’ll tell you while slowly running the back of his hand down your cheek. If you follow his directions, he will give you all the praise you deserve. “Such a good girl, taking it so well for me” “That’s my good girl” “That’s right baby, you’re perfect” “You’re doing so good, just a little longer sweetheart” He might be demanding you suck his cock or flinging you around like a ragdoll on the bed and fucking you senseless, but he will always tell you how good you are being for him. Like the perfect gentleman he is.

Appearance: This includes body type, clothing, lingerie, hair, and make-up. Five does not have a specific body type per se. If he finds you attractive, he finds you attractive, end of story. He may have a slight preference towards nice boobs and a tight ass, but that’s just on a superficial basis. Chubby tummy? Thick thighs? Flat chest? Bony elbows and knees? He does not care. If he loves you, then you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and he wouldn’t want you any other way. He does love a tight skirt and high heels, though. Watching your ass bounce along while you sashay your hips in front of him will have him wishing he could blink you away somewhere private, flip that skirt up, and take care of business. And if you whisper in passing that you’re not wearing any underwear, he just might. Five loves you fully naked, sprawled out just for him. But his brain misfires a few times when he sees you in sexy lingerie. A lace bra, tight corset, thong panties, or even just a skimpy little tank top has him drooling and stumbling all over himself in an effort to get his dick under control. Wearing a sexy outfit like this is a good way to make him the submissive one, because he will do anything for you at this point. It’s actually pretty hilarious to see him at a loss for words for once, jaw on the floor, and licking his lips at just the sight of you. A flustered Five is the best. He doesn’t have much preference for hair style, as long as there’s enough to grab in his fist when you’re blowing him. Same goes for make-up. The only exception to that is lipstick. Five loves when you wear red lipstick for him. He likes to see the trail it makes over his body as your lips kiss and suck him all over. He loves to see it smudged all over your mouth, on his face, and on his cock. It’s just one of those things that reminds him that you are all his.

Possessiveness: Which brings us to this. Five can be a little possessive. Not in a “you’re not going anywhere without me" kind of way. He’s not at all like that. But he does like to remind you now and then who exactly you belong to. That body is only for him to touch, and kiss, and fuck. He doesn’t get jealous, because there’s nothing to be jealous over. He trusts you and you trust him. You are independent and have your own life outside of him, and that’s just one of the reasons he loves you. But he does get territorial, and there’s a difference. If another man puts a hand on you and you don’t like it, or someone propositions you in some way, well then they are in for a real big fucking awakening. Five may try to keep his assassin instincts to himself most of the time, but if he sees some random guy disrespecting you, things are going to get ugly. He may not even need to use any actual physical force or violence. Just the threat of it is usually enough. But if that doesn’t work, and the stupid moron isn’t backing down, well, that’s their own fault. There will be a fake, saccharine smile, and a derisive chuckle as the last warning. Then the poor bastard will find himself either punched in the mouth or facedown in the dirt with a foot on his back while being forced to give a teary apology for his treatment of you. If he were ever faced with the need, Five would kill for you. No questions asked. You’re in real danger? He won’t think twice about putting a bullet into some dude’s skull. Luckily, a few clever insults, some well-timed blinks, and a swift kick to the jaw are all he really needs to get his point across. Then afterwards, he’ll take you home and fuck your brains out, because you are his and he is yours, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.  

[littleslaywrites]

serendipity | spencer reid x reader 

summary: five times spencer doesn’t listen to the signs telling him to approach you + one time he does

word count: 4.7k

cw: f!reader, slow burn, fluff, 5+1, invisible string theory, a little bit of angst

1.

Three minutes. That’s how long Spencer has to get in his car and start driving to be at work on time. He calculated the time that morning, when he had woken up earlier than usual and decided on a whim to try the coffee shop that had just opened. 

He doesn’t know what makes him turn around. Maybe it was his training, forcing him to be aware of his surroundings at all times. Maybe it was your voice. “One iced mocha with an extra shot of espresso,” you say. Maybe it was fate. 

Whatever it was, it made him pause dumping the packet of sugar into his to-go cup and face the back of your head as you dug through your purse to find your wallet. He keeps his eyes trained on you, putting the lid back on the cup. 

When you turn, he forgets about the time he was wasting as he stops and stares. He forgets about how many sugars he’d used already. He even forgets his own name for a second. And he never forgets anything. 

But something about the way the morning sun brushes its golden touch across your face has him brainless. His thoughts only came back to him when your eyes flitted up and met his. 

In that moment, he wants to approach you, tell you that you might be the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Even more so when your lips pull into a tiny smile. He’d been a profiler long enough to know that the way your eyes ran from his was a sign that you were probably waiting for him to approach. 

Just when we goes to grab his cup and walk up to you, he catches a glimpse of his watch. Ten seconds. He’d run out of time. He considered his options, choosing timeliness over what he might have with you. 

You watch him leave, a little surprised. You were sure he was going to introduce himself. Brushing it off, you determine it’s not meant to be, a mantra you repeat every time something slips away from you.

Pulling into the parking garage, Spencer feels a pang of regret. He really didn’t need to be on time. Morgan had made a habit of being five minutes late. As long as there wasn’t an urgent case, he probably could’ve afforded the time it would take to get your number. 

Paperwork gives him a solace from his thoughts, distracting him as he gets lost in reports. He almost forgets you. Almost. 

2.

Two weeks later, Spencer is wandering the walls of books, looking for some new reading material. He’s finished everything he’d had in his apartment, and was now holding a stack that’d last at least five days. 

Scanning the shelves, he finds one that catches his eye. When he goes to reach up, his fingers brush against someone else’s hand. His immediate reaction is to fight a small freak-out, not wanting the stranger to contaminate him. 

Pulling his hand back, he looks over to see someone else doing the same. Not someone. You. 

He recognizes you instantly, memories of the café coming back to him. 

“Sorry,” you say, hand returning to clutch your own stack of books. 

He’s frozen in place. You’ve stunned him. Not because of the usual reasons of germs or stranger danger, but because it’s you. He realizes he’s frozen in place, which makes his internal panic worse. 

In the seconds where he’s staring, you realize where you’d seen him before. It was coffee shop boy, as you’d nicknamed him when you’d texted your friends about how you’d just seen the cutest boy at that new café down the road. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you try to fight off the blush you’re sure is currently invading your cheeks. 

Say something, you think, trying to fix the uncomfortable moment. 

“You’ve got good taste,” you force out, awkwardly trying to make some kind of conversation. 

Her eyes are prettier up close, he thinks, hand involuntarily clenching from the brief touch. 

He knows he should say something to you. He really does. It’s just that he can’t. He gives you a subtle nod, then escapes in between another aisle. He meant to find at least twice the amount of books he ended up with, but you had sent him into such a panic that he ended up checking out and walking out before he realized what he was doing. 

You were left slightly stunned by the interaction, partially confused by the way he hurried out. You chalked it up to him being some kind of introvert, not wanting to talk to you. You could only hope that he didn’t find you repulsive or something, mind going to the worse places. Just like in the coffee shop, you let it go, assuring yourself you’d see more cute boys in bookstores in the future. Hopefully some that had as good of a taste in books as coffee shop boy. 

Closing the door to his apartment behind him, Spencer realizes how he’s acting. He feels like a kid again, the same awkward schoolboy who was too young to be like the boys who had a girl on their arm as they walked through the halls. Setting the books down on his coffee table, he tries to not think about how he never truly learned to ask someone out. One day, he thinks, one day I’ll find the courage.

3.

Rain has pelted the ground all afternoon, defying the forecast that called for sunny skies. Spencer, in his usual preparedness, had brought an umbrella to work just in case. 

The past week, Prentiss told him about an exhibit in D.C. that she thought he’d want to see. It was a museum he frequented, so he set out on Friday afternoon to make a quick trip to the city. 

When he got on the metro, he pulled out a book to pass the time. He hardly looked up when he got lost in a book, only listening for the announcement that he’d reached his intended stop. 

Something drew his eyes up, though, just like the morning in the coffee shop. 

It was you again, this time soaking wet. You’d gotten caught in the rain, trusting the forecast. You just have to get home, you keep telling yourself as you shiver on the plastic seat. 

Sensing someone looking at you, you glance up. Spencer brings his eyes back to his book, looking but not reading. 

There he is again. Coffee shop boy. He doesn’t usually take this train, you think. Maybe that means something.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you remember the bookstore, the way he ran from you. Your friends had reassured you, telling you to stop catastrophizing. You hoped that he was simply antisocial, but part of you still was stuck on the possibility that he hated you for some reason, sent from universe to humble you.

So you don’t move closer to him. Besides, you could only imagine that you don’t look your best, already feeling the way your hair is frizzing up. 

Spencer’s heart is currently beating so hard that he thinks it’s trying to break out of his chest. Even after you’ve been caught in the rain, you’re stunning. He remembers the past two interactions, suddenly embarrassed by the way he acted. He couldn't just go up to you, especially after the way he ran at the bookstore. 

When he reaches his stop, you move to get up. Dread mixes with hope inside you both as you realize you’re walking out together. 

You keep trying to lose him, but your steps are sinking up. Climbing the stairs, you sigh at the sight of rain. 

Spencer thinks to offer you his umbrella, to walk you wherever you’re going. It’d make up for his other two mistakes, giving him an in to start a conversation with you. 

Approaching the mouth of the station, you can only hope your bag is watertight enough to keep your laptop dry. A more romantic part of you hopes coffee shop boy will stop you before you reach the end of the steps. 

Spencer hesitates, takes too long to decide if he’ll approach you, and you turn to walk the opposite direction before he can say a word. Opening the umbrella, he turns to watch you walk away, sympathy creeping in as you hug yourself in the cold. 

Cowardly. That’s the only word he can think of to describe his behavior. He’s embarrassed. It’s not gentlemanly, letting you walk away in the rain when offering the umbrella would’ve been easy. 

When he makes it to the museum, he’s hardly in the mood to enjoy the exhibit. This time, he can’t seem to push you out of his mind. 

4.

Fall turned to winter quickly, the rain turning to snow. Spencer was thankful, since he thought of you every time it rained. He thought of the way you shivered down the street, alone as the droplets accosted your beautiful face. He thought of the way he acted, not even telling his mother that he’d seen you again. He’d written about you the first two times, but couldn’t bear to describe your third meeting. He knew all too well that his mother would have something to say about his lack of courage. 

He was a worrier, the incident in the rain being no exception. His imagination even went so far as to picture you getting deathly ill from the cold, Pride and Prejudice style. 

He pictured walking you home. Maybe you’d invite him inside, offering a cup of coffee to warm both of you up. Then he pictured you alone, stepping into your apartment in your damp clothes. He wished the former was the reality.

Spencer changed his routine, something he usually despised, simply to wake up earlier to get a morning coffee in hopes of seeing you there. This incited comments from the team, telling him the office coffee couldn’t be so bad that he needed to stop somewhere before work. 

“It’s just a way to clear my head,” he said. 

“Sure,” Morgan replied, knowing he’d been slightly distracted the first morning he’d visited the shop. 

After three weeks of frequenting the shop, he finally saw you again. He’d almost given up, assuming he’d never make it up to you. 

Walking out the door, the wind chill hits him, hands warmed by the coffee in this hand. He's looking down, studying the crunch of the snow under his boots. 

You’re late, usually grabbing your coffee much earlier. It reminds you of the first time you came to this shop. That reminds you of that boy you saw that day. And two other times. Heart leaping, you brush it off, mind focussed on getting in and out before traffic gets worse. 

The snow isn’t too bad, but the wind is stealing the feeling from your fingers. You reach into your bag, pulling out the pair of gloves you’d stashed inside on your way out the door. 

You regret looking down when you feel yourself run into someone walking the opposite way. The gloves fall from your hands, and you crouch to pick them up. 

Before you can grab them, the person you collided with is handing them to you. 

“Thank-“ you begin, words stolen by the realization that the person is no stranger. 

It’s him again, you think. Thankfully, you’re already flushed from the cold, protecting you from any outward reaction to him. 

It’s her again, Spencer thinks, holding the gloves out to you. He prays the trembles away as your hands brush against his. 

The image is comical, two people crouched in the middle of a busy sidewalk as it snows. You’re frozen, gloves in your hand but not pulling them away just yet. 

Realizing this is his chance, Spencer tries to think of something clever to say to you. Something Morgan would say. 

“It’s cold,” he says. 

Fuck. 

“Yeah,” you half speak, half giggle. 

Is that really the best you can do?

He releases the gloves as you both stand up. There’s a brief hesitation, eyes finding each other and smiles creep onto your faces. 

You’re still late, you realize, ending the moment. You look down simultaneously, walking past each other shyly. 

What the fuck, Spencer? he asks himself. He beats himself up all the way to Quantico, feeling like he blew what could be his final chance with you. 

You, on the other hand, are giddy. It was the most he’d ever said to you. Even when your boss gives you a talking to for your tardiness, you're fighting a smile. Coffee shop boy didn’t hate you, not at all. He was awkward, sure, but he didn’t hate you. That’s all you could ask for. 

5.

Spencer tried the café for about two weeks after your encounter, but gave up when you didn’t return, even after he waited three minutes past his usual allotted time. 

The team was at dinner after returning from a particularly exhausting case. At least Spencer’s mind had something else to focus on. With time, he’d forget you. At least as much as Spencer Reid could forget a person. 

You walked into the restaurant, two of your girlfriends in tow. One of them recounted the tale of her last date, a story juicy enough to require a sit-down meal for the official debrief. 

As the host is walking you to your table, you stop in your tracks when you see him. 

“Don’t look now,” you whisper, “but that’s coffee shop boy at that big table.”

“You’re joking,” one of your friends says.

“Which one,” the other whispers.

“The one with the glasses,” you say as you all slowly walk by, slow enough to look but fast enough to not arouse suspicion. 

“Oh, the nerd?” your friend asks, causing you all to break into laughter as you scurry away to catch up with the host. 

The sound draws Spencer’s attention, and he looks up to see you again. He looks down quickly, more than aware that he’s surrounded by profilers. Unfortunately, he’s caught by Morgan, because of course he is. 

“You recognize her?” he teases.

“No,” Spencer murmurs. 

“Then maybe I’ll introduce myself,” he kids, and Spencer forces a half chuckle. 

He wills himself to not think about you, wanting to avoid any more commotion. He distracts himself with the team’s conversations, reminding himself that he’s made it this far without another person. Even if he feels something that’s a hybrid of regret and jealousy when his coworkers talk about their own pursuits. 

At the end of the meal, the waiter brings fortune cookies for the table. Cracking it open, Spencer reads the tiny words on the paper:

“Fate gives you the ink, but you are the one who decides what to write."

Something in his mind clicks. He has to find you. He can’t let you go. There has to be a reason that you kept running into him. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, wandering toward where the host was leading you. 

He looks for you, but it’s hopeless. You must’ve slipped out when he was distracted. He curses himself. You’ve escaped again, a result of Spencer’s inability to approach you. Part of him wants to run after you, follow every street until he finds you. But he knows the table is waiting for him. So he goes back to sit down, and pays his bill. 

That night, he goes home to his empty apartment. The silence he always enjoyed is suddenly deafening. Five chances, and he blew all of them. 

Spencer has learned to deal with disappointment. He’d learn to love the loneliness, filling his mind with knowledge, one part of him that he could keep from being empty. The emptiness always found him, though. It found him when his father left, when those kids tied him up on the football field, when the nightmares started and he’d wake up alone and afraid. And it found him tonight, when the weight of his lack of courage sank in. 

Your friends drove you home, and you let them take the front seat while you sat in the back. As they talked, you felt the weight of the empty seat next to you. The two of them entertained you with their stories of romance, but it was just that— entertainment. Hell, one of them was engaged, and you hadn’t had a date since you’d moved to D.C. Maybe that’s why you were so stuck on coffee shop boy, the brush of his hands being the most romantic touch you’d felt for a while. 

Suddenly, you were annoyed. Annoyed at the way your friends acted when you told them about a cute boy, excitement that you even had the semblance of a chance, a fraction of what came so easily to them. You were annoyed at yourself, alone on a Friday night in a city full of people. You were annoyed at the way coffee shop boy ignored you, meeting multiple times with less than ten words between spoken. 

For all you knew, he had a girlfriend, a fiancée. Maybe that’s why he avoided you. 

When your friends dropped you off at your apartment, they waited for you to get inside the doors. Nobody would be waiting inside for you. You imagined how it must feel to have a smiling face to greet you. In your fantasy, it was coffee shop boy, his brown eyes looking at you for as long as you wanted him to, his hand finding yours without pulling away. 

Your bed felt a little colder that night. The universe could send you the same man five times, and you’d still end up without knowing as much as his name. You wondered where he was now, probably with the blonde he was laughing with when you were leaving the restaurant. It’s not meant to be, you repeat, not fully believing it, but letting the phrase lull you to sleep, anyway. 

+1

Another Valentine’s Day approached quickly, and you knew that it would likely be spent alone. Not alone, exactly, as you would be spending it at your best friend’s wedding in another state. You’d tried to find a plus one, scouring dating apps for any eligible bachelor that’d make you look less lonely at the ceremony. It proved futile, so here you were, alone in your hotel room. 

You slipped on the mini dress, a matching color as the rest of the bridesmaids. Your best friend had chosen a bar for her bachelorette. All of you were unfamiliar with the area, making you feel a little uneasy, especially since there had been a series of murders in the area that had brought the FBI in to investigate. Luckily, they’d reported that night that the suspect was in custody, so the night out was still on. 

When you walk into the bar, you know right away that it wasn’t your scene. It was loud, hectic, and slightly overwhelming, but you sucked it up for your friend’s sake. This was her night, so nothing would stop you from celebrating her. 

Looking around, you find the bar is mostly filled with middle aged men who are unsuccessfully flirting with the younger girls. You probably should’ve known that this wasn’t the night you’d end up meeting anyone worthwhile. It didn’t really matter, though, as your friends are quickly on the dance floor.

Spencer didn’t necessarily love when the team went out to bars after a case was solved. It wasn’t his scene, loud music and unruly patrons. He could get over it, as long as it meant spending time with his friends. 

It was windy that night, causing the jet to be delayed. Emily had been the one to suggest going out instead of sitting around on the tarmac. Everyone was at a table in the corner of the closest bar they'd found on Google maps. Spencer was observing the people around, one particular group catching his eye. On the dance floor, he saw flashes of a sash that said “Bride to Be”. He wasn't sure what about the group caught his attention, but he found himself looking up every now and then to see if the girls had escaped the dancing crowd to somewhere more open. 

As his coworkers complained about the delay, Spencer realized that it was February 13th. He’d never had a Valentine before, unless you counted his mother and the candy hearts she’d buy for him every year. His friends had people to return to, people waiting when they got off the jet. He longed for a reason to complain about missing the holiday, but to Spencer, it would be just the same as any other day. 

After about half an hour of dancing, you slithered between the moving bodies to find the bar. You took a seat at one of the barstools, ordering your favorite drink to cool you off from the heat of the dance floor. 

Spencer sees your figure from behind, and knows right away who you are. For a second he doubts himself, not believing you were halfway across the country at the same time he was, but his memory had never failed him before. 

JJ sees his eyes following you, and asks “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” he says, standing up. “I do.”

He’d promised himself that, if he had another chance, he’d approach you. He knew he had to, regret tinting his memories. 

And here you were, in some small town, serendipitously in the same place once again. He couldn’t ignore it, determining it must be fate, an idea that went against his leanings toward practicality. 

He’d tried to explain it away with logical explanations. Even if it was coincidence, he thought the shared locations meant you were compatible. That’s why he was so bothered by the way you had disappeared that night in the restaurant. He’d finally had the courage to approach you, and you’d escaped. 

This time was different, though. You were firmly in place at the bar. This time, nobody would pull either of you away. Not on Spencer’s watch.

“Excuse me,” he said, taking the seat next to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you-“ he stutters.

You’re shocked. Surely, your eyes are wide, and he can tell you know who he is. Trying to cover up the way your jaw dropped, you say “We’ve met before.”

“We have,” he says. He’d planned what he’d say to you, thinking of every possible situation or smooth line that would win you over. “A few times, actually.”

“What are you doing all the way out here?” you ask, nervous at the amount of words you were exchanging. Coffee shop boy had been on your mind for six months now, and here he was, sitting beside you. 

“Work,” he answers, causing you two to fall into a silence. It’s not awkward, the way you look at each other. It’s more of a studied silence, ensuring your eyes weren’t deceiving you. 

Spencer is the one to break the silence. “I meant to approach you earlier, it’s just that I’m…”

“An introvert?” you finish his sentence for him. 

“Yeah, I guess. I tried to find you the last time I saw you, in that restaurant, but you’d already left.”

“You tried to find me?” His confession takes you by surprise. “Honestly, I thought you hated me.”

“Of course not,” he says quickly. “I just get…. nervous. 

“Yeah, I gathered that.” You giggle together. “Maybe this is weird, but I feel like I know you already.”

“You kind of do. You’ve seen me in five other places already. You could put together my routine if you really wanted to.”

Another quiet moment overtakes you. It’s comfortable, like two friends who know each other well enough to not need words. 

“I’m here with my friends,” you explain, wanting him to know everything about you. “It’s her bachelorette party.”

“That’s more fun than my reason,” he says, glancing back towards his coworkers. 

He explains his job, then, taking you by surprise. He didn’t strike you as the fed kind of guy, considering you know him through bookstores and coffee shops. He tells you about how he ended up in his line of work, how he finished school at an age when you hadn’t even learned to drive. 

Then you explain your job. And your friends. And why you moved to D.C. And everything else you can think of. Before you know it, an hour has passed. Part of you feared that, in getting to know him, he’d lose his appeal. You’d constructed an image of him in your head, and you worried that it would be too high of an expectation for him to live up to. You were proven wrong. He exceeded the version of himself that had been created in your imagination. 

He’s taken out of the conversation only by Hotch's tap on his shoulder. “The plane should be taking off soon,” he says. He nods, making plans to meet you again when you return home. He writes down his number on a receipt, and you tuck it delicately in your pocket, afraid to lose it, to lose him again. 

“I forgot to ask,” you stop him before he can walk out. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.”

And then he’s out the door. This time, his retreat doesn’t leave you with the same hurt it had the last five times. You feel fuzzy, warm, like you were right where you needed to be. 

Spencer, you think. No longer coffee shop boy, he now had a name, a story. You turn his name over in your head, and it rattles around like a weight and makes your mind hazy when you join your friends again. 

“Who was that?” 

“You’ll never believe this, but it was coffee shop boy,” you reply. 

“You’re kidding! What was he doing here?”

“Work.”

“Huh. Serendipity.”

Serendipity. Your friend threw the word out, speaking it lightly before going back to dancing. Yet, it stuck to you, grabbing on and not letting you go. 

You weren’t looking for Spencer any of the times you ran into him, yet he was there. A gift waiting on days where you were otherwise preoccupied. You put a hand in your pocket, feeling the paper with his number waiting for you on it. It was material evidence of the connection you had, a piece of him left behind until you met again. 

Spencer didn’t believe in fate. He hated when people said “everything happens for a reason”. It was the opposite of a comfort, and he refused to believe that the bad things in his life were destined for him. 

However, something about you had planted a seed of doubt, watering it every time he ran into you again. It blossomed tonight with the ease of your conversation. You felt good, you felt right, you felt fated. If there was a destiny for him, he was sure you were part of it. 

He could ignore his friends' teasing. Morgan asked him questions on the jet that he refused to answer. He pretended to be asleep, eyes closed as the vision of you overtook him. Someday, they’d find out about you. Your roots had intertwined with his already, locking your stories together. For now, though, you were his. His own personal offering from whomever sent you into his life. Even if he’d messed up the first few chances, you kept finding him, even where it was least expected. 

Serendipity, he thinks. Finding something good when you’re not looking for it. 

The definition swims in his head, still hazy from your encounter. He wasn’t looking for you that morning in the coffee shop, nor any other time. So he chose to believe it was fate. He allowed himself this one moment to ignore logic and everything he’d been taught. He allowed himself to suspend his disbelief and ride the flutters of his heart to you. 

There had to be a reason. A reason that you kept finding each other. A reason why your conversation flowed with such ease. And, without your knowing, you gave it the same word. Yours spoken by your friend, his from a memory of an old movie his mom used to watch. You were apart, as he sat on the jet and you danced with in the bar, but your minds synced up as you both thought the same thing: Serendipity.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Guilty As Sin

Sebastian Sallow x Female Reader (MC)

Rating: Mature 18+ (explicit sex, smut, language), all characters are 18+

Summary: You’re a sinner and tonight, Sebastian Sallow is a saint.

In other words, it’s your (MC) last night at Hogwarts and you can’t help but fantasize over your best friend. Luckily, he’s happy to turn your daydreams into reality.

Notes: Takes place at the end of MC’s seventh year. (You’re MC.) Characters are 18. Obviously this was inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Guilty As Sin.”

I wrote this smutty drabble while I was ovulating. Oops. Consider yourself warned.

Read on AO3 here, or below the cut.

Sebastian Sallow was a fucking menace.

He wasn’t even in the same room as you and he was driving you mental. Hadn’t the absolute hell he put you through during your fifth year been enough?

Oh, but this was a different type of hell. This was the kind of hell that made your palms sweat and your knees want to buckle beneath you. This hell was a frustration that simmered up through your body, rising into your head until you could practically feel it pulsing in your hair.

Sebastian Sallow was also your best friend.

You hadn’t meant for that to happen. But the events of your fifth year kind of made it difficult to shake him. You watched the moron murder his own uncle and then you covered for him like an even bigger moron. As a result, the two of you formed some sort of trauma bond that nudged you even closer together, compelling you to lean on one another. He had no one else, given that he’d pushed his sister and his former best friend away. You had no one else because you didn’t want anyone else.

In time, Anne and Ominis came around and forgave him. They settled back into his life with cautious compassion but you — you had proven yourself as the one person who would never turn your back.

And because of that, Sebastian Sallow dug and twisted his way into the center of your soul, planting himself as more than a kindred spirit or a partner in crime. No, the two of you were closer than that, and it made you want to hurl yourself into the Black Lake, sinking until the bottom claimed you.

Sebastian Sallow was the reason you were so dramatic.

You kept that drama to yourself, though you had the feeling Ominis knew. In your mission to bridge the divide between him and Sebastian, you and Ominis had also grown quite close. Ominis seemed to have a quiet understanding of your internal anguish over the boy — no, the man — the two of you had in common, but he kept quiet on the subject, except to say he was glad that if anyone had to replace him as a “best friend,” he was pleased it was you.

Instead of acting on your dramatic fantasies over that 18-year-old freckled friend, you kept them bottled in the back of your mind, the lid corked tight, except on nights like this.

These were the nights you cursed Sebastian Sallow.

No one else was around, your roommates all out celebrating the completion of term. They were saying goodbye to one another, to all the other seventh years who would be departing Hogwarts for good in the morning. You’d said your farewells too, mingling and laughing with your friends at the party, reminiscing on the memories you’d crafted in the three years you spent together.

Then Sebastian Sallow ruined everything.

He found you at that party and snaked his strong, stupid arms around your waist as he stood behind you. He did that all the time but something about it sent shivers straight past your stomach, coursing through your thighs toward your ankles.

He laughed at something Garreth Weasley had said and rested his head on your shoulder, as if your body was some sort of prop meant to bear his weight. And oh, how you wanted that to be the case.

Even as Sebastian removed himself from contact with your body to bounce around the room, commanding the attention that only someone with his level of charisma could manage, your mind fixated on his fingers. They had touched your waist, your shoulders, even your hair as he twirled it around absent-mindedly while he yapped with Amit Thakkar about some book he read.

You seized that opportunity to slip away from the party, retreating down to the dungeons and into the Slytherin Common Room. You ignored the gazes of the underclassmen and slunk into the quiet sanctuary of your deserted dorm room, dark and cool.

But Sebastian Sallow made you hot.

This wasn’t the first time you’d slid into bed, your hands inching up the hem of your skirt as you thought about him. But it would be the last time you’d do it here.

You were leaving Hogwarts tomorrow, set for Hogsmeade so you could spend the summer in your shop with Penny before starting the Ministry of Magic’s Auror Training Academy in the fall. Sebastian had also been accepted to the academy, meaning you’d be enduring another year as a student alongside him.

Another year with Sebastian Sallow. At least. For all you knew, you could end up spending your entire career with him, and while there was no one else you’d rather work with, you were certain it would drive you fucking mad.

That’s why you were hesitant when Sebastian asked you to apply with him.

”C’mon, it’ll be great,” he’d said as he pleaded with you for the fifth time. “We already know we make a great team. We’ll set a high standard for the other trainees. We’ll be unstoppable.”

You knew you wanted to be an Auror. How could you not, given all of the dark wizards and magic you’d witnessed? And you were so damn proud of Sebastian for making the same choice, for wanting to right all of his past wrongdoings. So you agreed, not that you ever intended not to apply for the Auror academy, and Sebastian excitedly vowed the two of you were going to be the best Aurors to ever carry a wand.

You were stuck with Sebastian Sallow.

You groaned at the thought of another agonizing year, sitting next to him, watching him study the prose inside his stacks of books when he should be studying the curves of your body.

After all, Sebastian Sallow could read you better than any old book.

A year of crawling through caves and catacombs, of scanning spellbooks and scrolls, of dueling enemies that wouldn’t have thought twice about your deaths. Then two years of trying to keep low profiles after Sebastian’s stupid decision in the Feldcroft catacomb, trying to live like the teenagers you deserved to be. Three total years in each other’s presence, highlighted by countless nights in the Undercroft as you became each other’s confidants. Of course Sebastian could read you like teenage poetry, tracing every line as he absorbed its meaning.

That’s what you envisioned as you lay in the quiet comfort of your bed. Except he wasn’t tracing words on a page. He was tracing you.

Sebastian Sallow had turned you into a sinner.

You let out a long exhale as your fingers made contact with your core. A few simple touches from Sebastian at that party had you wound so tight, you sprinted into your dormitory so fast, you forgot to lock the door.

And as you moaned his name, visions of his fingers sinking into you, helping you relieve the ache between your legs, you didn’t even notice the visitor in your room.

Sebastian Sallow was a sinner, too.

”Let me help you.”

Your eyes shot open and you let out the most pathetic hybrid of a scream and a gasp, your hand quickly breaking contact from what lay beneath your skirt.

”Sebastian?” you managed, shame creeping across your face in the form of rosy cheeks.

”I came to check on you. You left the party so abruptly. I thought maybe something was wrong,” he said, still lurking just inside the doorway, his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

You were determinedly not looking at him, mortified by the sight you had created for him. The candlelight of the room betrayed you as it flickered across your face, revealing your shame. But it also revealed something about Sebastian.

As the light danced, you caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s form and you swallowed hard as you realized he was hard.

Your gaze fixated on the unmistakable bulge in his pants and you felt weak.

“By all means, don’t stop on my behalf,” Sebastian said, still standing much too far away for your liking. “But if you’d like some help, I’d like to be first for consideration.”

You realized you were still flat on your back, your skirt hem still hiked up above your hips, exposing your soaked panties.

You had a choice. You could spend the rest of your nights like this, victim of your own fatal fantasies, or you could indulge them with one bold move.

”Come here,” you managed, your voice husky amid your labored breaths.

Sebastian Sallow was your savior.

Sebastian moved swiftly toward you, crawling on top of you, his arms supporting his weight as he leaned down to kiss you.

”You have no idea how many times I’ve daydreamed about this,” he said in your ear.

”Oh, but I do,” you whispered back.

Sebastian pulled away slightly to smirk at you. That stupid smirk you loved to hate.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked.

”Why didn’t you?” you retorted. He grinned. He loved it when you bantered back and forth with him.

”Just didn’t think I ever stood a chance with someone so fucking perfect,” he said, his eyes darting downward to where your blouse was begging to be unbuttoned. “But hearing the way you moaned my name just a few moments ago… I‘d never forgive myself for not taking the chance.”

”Take it,” you said, your tone much more forceful than you’d intended. Sebastian smirked again.

”Anything you say, love. Like I said, I’m here to help.”

”Then help me already,” you said through gritted teeth. You knew he’d find a way to bring this up later, to hold it over your head, but your brain was well beyond the stages of any reasoning.

Sebastian licked his lower lip as he studied your gaze one last time, seeking final confirmation despite your desperate pleas. When he seemed content by the fire in your eyes, he kissed your neck.

”Oh fuck,” you moaned, feeling fearful for your own wellbeing — if a kiss on the neck had you on the edge of insanity, what would happen when Sebastian really touched you?

You couldn’t wait to find out.

”How can I help you?” Sebastian murmured in your ear, his hands roaming from your chest down your sides to your hips.

”Anything. Everything,” you whined pitifully. “I just want you.”

You soon realized that it was not Sebastian’s wand that you felt digging into your upper thigh as his fingers worked to unbutton your blouse. His impatience, that blasted impatience you’d seen so many times, bubbled over as his fingers fumbled against the tiny buttons and he ripped them apart.

”Not like you’ll need a school uniform after today,” he noted. You couldn’t help but laugh, but his eyes roamed your body and you fell quiet. “Can I take this off?” he continued, his fingers lifting the hem of your skirt.

You nodded silently and shifted, lifting your hips slightly as he slid your skirt down past your ankles until it toppled from the edge of the bed to the floor.

Sebastian sat back to admire you. ”You are so fucking beautiful,” he hissed.

That’s when you realized Sebastian was wearing too much clothing.

You reached for his tie, tugging shamelessly on it to pull him into another kiss. He tasted like sugar quills.

You fumbled with the knot on that stupid tie and had half the mind to rip his shirt open as well, but he pulled back to chuckle at your desperation, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his own shirt, sending you into an annoyed frenzy.

”Oh, so you’ll rip my shirt but not your own,” you pointed out. Even now, at your most vulnerable, you liked to challenge him. You knew he liked it more.

”I’m the one doing you a favor here,” he murmured.

Sebastian Sallow was a fucking tease.

Once his shirt had joined your clothing on the floor, he took a moment to plant a trail of kisses from your stomach to your inner thigh. You clenched your jaw in anticipation, unsure what he planned to do next. You knew what you wanted him to do, but you were trying not to beg.

”These are pretty,” Sebastian said as he hooked his thumbs through the sides of your panties. He slid them down with such slow and deliberate intention, you considered kneeing him in the jaw. “That’s even prettier,” he said, his gaze between your legs once you were fully naked.

You stilled yourself as he eyed you, taking in your wetness. You’ve never felt more vulnerable, but he smirked as he returned his gaze to your eyes.

”Is that all because of me?” he asked.

”You know it is,” you huffed, annoyed that you had no choice but to admit it. The man had literally heard you moaning his name earlier.

You were almost certain he could hear the silent screams of desperation inside your skull. And when his tongue made contact with you, you gasped so sharply, you wondered if there was any air remaining in the room.

”Oh my-“ you cut your own statement off with a moan and you could just feel Sebastian smirking against you.

Sebastian Sallow had a tongue like a snake.

”You taste so fucking good,” he hissed and you willed him to shut the fuck up so that you could continue to feel his mouth.

Your moans grew louder until you were grinding your hips against his tongue, desperate to finish what your own fingers had started.

His tongue flattened itself and then rolled against you in patterns, causing you to cry out in ecstasy. How could you have been so fucking stupid to have starved yourself from this for so long?

And when your orgasm started, you tried to will yourself not to moan so loud, but every ounce of logic drained from your head down between your thighs, which were shaking. Sebastian’s tongue didn’t stop until you did, and even then, you could feel him tasting you until he straightened up to admire his work.

Normally, you’d have some smart remark for him. At the very least you’d call him a smug bastard. But now your head was a juxtaposition of hazy and horny you’d never experienced.

”Better?” he asked, looking quite pleased with himself.

Your eyes flickered down to his bulging pants and he immediately got the message. You caught your breath as you watched him undo his belt and kick his remaining garments off. The smooth skin and toned muscles were more than enough to pull you out of your post-orgasm haze, especially as your eyes landed on his erection. Soon, you were licking your lips in anticipation again.

”Fuck, you’re big,” you whispered. Those were probably your famous last words. No way in hell Sebastian was ever going to forget them.

”I’ll be gentle,” he said, but you frowned. You didn’t need him to be gentle. That was the last thing you wanted right now.

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk as he understood your expression. “You’re even more alluring when you’re mad,” he said, one hand wrapped around himself. You’d never been so envious of a fucking hand.

A whimper escaped your lips and Sebastian leaned forward to kiss you. You could feel him pressing against your entrance, so close to solving all your problems.

And then, when he finally satiated you and guided himself inside you, you were certain your eyes would roll back into your head.

”You feel so fucking good,” he groaned and you could practically feel him harden even more inside of you.

“Oh god, fuck me,” you hissed.

And Sebastian Sallow obliged.

The delicious friction, the steady pace, the way Sebastian told you how fucking good you were, it all crafted a fitting build-up to the climax you knew you were in for.

Sebastian Sallow was going to make you come.

You arched your back and moaned his name as you inched closer, torn between your desperation for that blissful release and not wanting it to end. And all the while, Sebastian’s eyes bore into you with the hunger and passion you’d dreamt of.

Your cunt swallowed his cock each time it slammed into you, and the way Sebastian was clenching his jaw had you wondering how much longer he had in him. You knew you were a lost cause, your undoing due at any moment.

You bucked your hips one last time as Sebastian’s cock pounded upward, catching just that right spot, eliciting a moan so loud you were sure the Common Room below could hear you.

You came so hard you saw stars as your cunt contracted around Sebastian, who continued to pound into you so hard the bed legs scraped against the hickory wood floorboards.

The ending of your high signaled the start of his and he groaned as he spilled himself inside you, savoring one final thrust before he held himself flush against you.

The quiet inside your room crashed around you as clarity slowly creeped into your head. As Sebastian pulled away from you, you immediately found yourself missing the heat of his body.

He gazed down at you swiftly before nudging you slightly, indicating that you were taking up too much space on the bed. You rolled over onto your stomach while he laid down beside you, reaching for you to rest your head on his chest.

”Can I tell you something?” he asked.

”Mmhmm, of course.”

”I really do love you, you know.”

The warmth you thought had left you instantly returned and you propped yourself up on your elbows to smile at him.

”I really do love you, too.”

You felt sleepy against his chest as you reflected on how the events of the past three years all culminated to this, and you could not have felt more satisfied for your future.

Sebastian Sallow was a fucking saint.

[navybrat817]

Hiiii Navy- how is our biker Bucky? I'm excited that his reader is a nurse because I am also a nurse...!

I'm glad you're excited, and I may have to get more of your insight as this goes on. And how he's doing...

Thinking About You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky's thinking about you after meeting you.

Word Count: Over 500

Warnings: Mix of fluff and dirty thoughts, love at first sight, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'll try to post more of this AU once more. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s thinking about your beautiful eyes and smile, but how you’re much more than a pretty face and how you must really be some sort of angel. You were a nurse, after all. Nurses helped provide comfort, protection, and care to others. You helped people heal. And, fuck, do you look good in white.

He’s thinking about how you listened to him when he talked. You were actually interested in his writing and the bar. He hoped you’d stop by at some point. Maybe he could convince you to stay after closing so the two of you could have the place to yourself. He’d even share some of his writing with you.

He’s thinking about how your eyes will light up when he brings the club to the blood drive tomorrow. At least, he hopes they’ll light up and that you don’t be afraid. His brothers could come across as intimidating from a first glance, but they were all good guys and the drive was for a good cause. You also didn’t seem put off that he was a biker.

He’s thinking about what an idiot he is for not asking for your number, and how he should’ve gone after you when you left. If he had your number right now, he’d message you just to say hi. He wasn’t leaving the drive tomorrow without asking for it.

He’s thinking about what your past relationships were like. How did your exes treat you? He’ll treat you well. Why didn’t the relationships last? Did anyone break your trust? If someone hurt you he’ll take the pain away. If the pain is no longer there he’ll do his best to help you should it surface unexpectedly.

He’s thinking about how he wants to take care of you, how he wants to learn your love language, and earn your trust. He wants to be your friend and have you confide in him, to learn your fears so he can protect you from them, and to learn how to make you smile again when you’re feeling down or hurt.

He’s thinking about how he wants to confide in you, too. To be vulnerable and open. It isn’t easy to let people in, but you make it seem effortless for him. He wants you to see every side of himself, every shadow, and tell you every story about every scar and tattoo.

He’s thinking about you as he lays in bed, fisting his cock, imagining the sounds you’d make as you lay beneath him. Or on top of him. How you’ll melt on his tongue. How blissed out you’d look when you fall apart. He knows you’ll feel like heaven when he’s inside you if you ever let him get that far.

He’s thinking about you post orgasm when he catches his breath. It’s a little scary that he already wants you to be his girl, and he refuses to believe it’s just infatuation. It’s something deeper. And if you give him a chance, he’ll make sure you never regret it.

I guess we can consider this part of Ficlet Friday? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[strlvvr]

my best friends brother (is the one for me) - part three

i’m so excited for this series you guys aren’t ready

word count: 903 words

read part two here!

⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ୭ৎ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚

i woke up with the sun shining into my face. i turned around to try to get some more sleep, only to roll into matt. i had forgotten that i had slept in his room with him. i moved away from him and watched his chest rise and fall, small snores coming from his mouth with every exhale. i stretched my arm out, grazing over his chest, letting myself wonder what it would be like if it were like this all the time. 

i watched as he slowly opened his eyes, moving his hands up to rub the sleep away from them. he turned over to face me with a goofy smile on his face.

“good morning.” he groaned as he stretched. i couldn’t helped looking at the skin peeking out from the hem of his shirt. 

my attention being drawn away from a knock on the door.

“did y/n leave last- nevermind.” nick said while opening the door.

“sorry, we ended up watching another movie and by the time it was over you were already asleep. i didn’t want to wake you up.” i said, almost defensively, while starting to get out of bed. 

“where’s my phone?” matt asked me, scrambling around him for it.

“oh, i put it over here with mine last night,” i grabbed the two phones handing him his, not before looking down at the screen lighting up. i recognized the wallpaper, it was a picture of us and his brothers from the last time we were in boston. one of few pictures we had taken that trip, he had his arms hugging my waist with his brothers next to us in a security camera. i smiled as i gave him his phone, getting up to go see what chris and nick were making for breakfast. 

the only way i can describe the smell in my nose is burnt. the closer i got to the kitchen the worse it smelt. i walked into the kitchen to see chris running around, like he was trying to hide the evidence of anything going wrong. 

despite the horrible smell, the food was surprisingly good. laid out on the table were eggs, slices of toast, bacon, sausage links, and waffles. it looked shockingly good, considering who cooked it. i grabbed a plate and started piling food onto it when i heard matt come out of his room. he walked right past me, grabbing a plate and walking to the table. i sat at an empty chair, thinking matt was going to sit next to me but he sat the furthest away from me. 

i half ignored the conversation, eating my food and wondering what was up with matt. he was keeping to himself more than usual and not acting himself. 

“you still with us y/n?” chris asked, finishing the food he just ate.

“oh yeah, sorry i’m in my own world,” i pushed the eggs around on my plate.

i can feel matt’s eyes on me as chris asks if i’m sure. i stood up and walked over to the garbage, scraping my food into the trash. i heard someone get up from the table and felt them behind me. 

“why’d you lie to him?” it was matt.

“i don’t know why you care.” i shrugged, trying to act like it doesn’t matter.

“of course i care, y/n,” he said in disbelief, “why wouldn’t i?”

i felt my heart drop but i just shook my head, walking away. 

୭ৎ୭ৎ୭ৎ

walking to my car, i felt a slight sprinkling of rain hit my face. disregarding it, i got in my car and starting driving home. 

halfway to my house i saw matt’s contact popping up on the screen in my car.

’matt!! is calling’  

i didn’t answer, half focused on the pounding rain on the road and half because i did not want to talk to him at the moment. after the ringing stopped, i turned up the music and kept driving, not being able to stop thinking about him.

‘matt!! sent you a message’

i ignored it.

‘matt!! sent you a message’

i grabbed my phone and shut it off.

turning down my road, the rain started to let up a little bit. i passed my driveway, not wanting to go home just yet. i circled my neighborhood for a few minutes before going home, dreading turning my phone back on. 

once i walked in, i immediately got in the shower, not bothering to turn my phone on. i needed five minutes to myself without him texting or calling me. i couldn’t stop the events of last night replaying in my mind. 

getting out of the shower, i started trying to decide what movie i should watch. changing into shorts and a big shirt, i got into my bed. i decided on watching shutter island, considering i was just ranting about it the night before. 

i decided to turn my phone back on, finding eleven messages and three missed calls from matt. 

‘are you okay?’

‘hello?’

‘y/n answer me please’

‘look it was raining pretty hard i just want to know if you’re okay’

“y/n’

‘i’m seriously getting worried.’

‘please just text me’

‘or just like a message.’

‘please.

‘i’m sorry’

‘i'm coming over’

the last message was sent at 11:26 a.m. i looked at the time and it was 11:47 a.m.

tag list:

@beersangel @whoseyouare @wh0schl0 @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt @h3arts4harry @matthewscherrypie @satvisfavetoodles @secret-sturniolo @mattsturniololoverr @blablablabla2525 @melanch0lybby @always-reading @bbernard-03

[socksracoon10]

p2 where the argument turns into a makeout sesh yes or yes?

𝐇𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: (𝘠/𝘕) (𝘓/𝘕) 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯… 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴? Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: I AM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED FOR A PART 2 BECAUSE THAT'S ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT SINCE I POSTED THE FIC YESTERDAY... anon thank you I was over here giggling and kicking my feet reading your ask... uh halfway through writing this I realized I got carried away it's MUCH longer than I intended LMFAO Read The First Part: Hit and Run

𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙤𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.

"Hey man, next time you race try not to kill the other drivers," (Y/N) (L/N) sunk down into the P3 chair next to Sainz, who had just won the race. He glanced over at her with a scowl, clearly wanting to say some nasty things if it wasn't for the million cameras in the cooldown room. She shifted in her seat, stretching her arms as she watched the race's highlights on the screen besides her. Carlos and her both had a spectacular race, considering they had started from the bottom of the grid more or less. She knew she had the skills to get to the podium, but she was surprised at the fact that Carlos had managed to somehow win the race from nowhere. It didn't seem like his normal self and she wondered what could've motivated him to actually drive good for once.

"Next time you race, try not to be cocky and drag other drivers down," Carlos grumbled, his voice was muffled due to the rag that was currently soaking up all of the sweat on his face. She glared at him, holding an accusatory finger to the air before Max had settled down in the P2 chair. He shook Carlos's hand, before waving at (L/N). The room was silent, spare Max rambling on about what he saw during the race. As Max continued to talk, (L/N)'s eyes flickered occasionally onto Carlos, wondering what was going through his mind. She was definitely in the wrong, but her ego wouldn't handle that and she needed to tear him a new one once they were done with all the celebrations. She always hated this circuit anyway.

"She's not supposed to be here, mate," Charles giggled, jerking his thumb towards the woman that was angrily storming into Ferrari's garage. Carlos looked up from where he sat with a groan escaping his lips.

"She isn't," Carlos stood up, taking the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, "I suppose you've come to apologize for your behavior this weekend? Or last weekend? Or the many weekends before that?" "Apologize?" (L/N) snorted, rolling her eyes, "I've come to ask about what you said at the press pen!"

Charles, sensing the tension between the two, gently ushered the two into Carlos's driver's room before shutting the door. The last thing Ferrari needed after this lovely weekend was to deal with the drivers having to go through PR training once again, especially with the amount of times Carlos had been talking shit about (Y/N) (L/N). Carlos had stood by the door, arms crossed as he gestured with his hands for her to begin whatever stupid argument she had managed to pull out of her ass this time.

"You remember what you said?" She growled, and when she saw him shake his head, her nostrils flared, "You literally told the press, 'sometimes, I like to put people in the places they belong and that's precisely what I did with (L/N)', are you kidding me?"

"You should be happy," Carlos scoffed, "I could've said way worse. Besides, I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. You said after qualifying yesterday that even with a million practices, I'd still fumble."

"Yeah, because you do! You're inconsistent as hell and that's why-"

"And yet who won the race today starting behind you." Carlos interrupted her. She closed her mouth, chest heaving. Carlos could see the gears turn in her head, she was trying so hard to come up with something. He had a smug smile on his face and somehow this was more victorious than winning the Grand Prix.

"It doesn't matter if you win today or not, you won't be driving for Ferrari soon, anyway," She spat. She smirked at the way his face fell, her arms crossed with her head tilted upwards. That cocky look on her face that always drove him wild.

"You're such an asshole," Carlos seethed, and before she could respond with a snarky remark, his lips crashed onto her. His hands came to hold onto the sides of her face, pulling her as close to him as he could. He pulled away for a brief second to take a quick breath and noticed the way her eyes widened, "Did you just kiss me? Listen here buddy, I'll have you know that-" Her words died down when she noticed Carlos's eyes flicker to her lips. God, her absolute hatred for him made her forget how charming he truly was. She wouldn't admit to it, though. Not now nor ever. Right now, all they needed was to blow off this steam. She grabbed onto his neck, pulling him down to another searing kiss, eyes closed as their teeth crashed into one another. She tugged his hair and he squeezed her waist, both of them realizing that feelings may not exist at the moment, it was all about just shutting each other up.

"I hate you," She murmured before going in for another kiss.

"I hate you more," His lips attached to her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that were sure to bruise her.

"Well, I hate you the most, stop trying to be better than me." She snapped in a strained voice and he groaned out loud, pulling back to stare at her,

"How much money do I have to pay for you to shut up?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘

Charles didn't win the next race, unfortunately. He was a bit happy that he didn't DNF, but the fact that the winner of the race was none other than his sworn enemy did little to comfort him. He glanced over to Max who was at P2, and looked around to the room to make sure that rat wasn't lurking nearby.

"W-What was the gap between you and her?" Charles asked. He knew asking would literally do him 0 help, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.

"I want to say around a good 20 seconds or so? Maybe a bit more, I wasn't too sure," Max responded, watching Charles sink deeper in his seat with a look of despair. He gulped, staring aimlessly onto the wall in front of him. How was she that fast? What had she done with the car overnight?

"I'm sorry for (Y/N) for the next few races," He heard her, loud and clear, as she entered the cooldown room, mocking him for what he said last weekend. Charles instantly glared at her, not even bothering to hide his true intentions. No amount of PR training could hide his disgust for her. She settled into her seat, relishing in the feeling of being the race winner.

"You do anything with your car?" Charles grunted, and she shook her head,

"No, no. I just have more skill," She flashed him a smile, before getting up once again to grab a bottle of water. Max, for once in his life, decided to be quiet in the room and see the argument follow through. He'd heard Charles tell him multiple times about how (L/N) got on his nerves, but seeing it in person would be amazing.

"I doubt that. You used to place below me during the races," Charles took a sip of his water.

"What are you insinuating then?" She snarled, and Max glanced over to the camera crew, signaling for them to leave. While this would do numbers for the ratings and news headlines, they were promised some share of money if they got their asses out.

"Um guys, I don't think we should be fighting, we have to cooldown anyway..." Max began, but his words fell onto deaf ears as Charles stood up from his seat to stalk over to where she stood.

"Maybe you'd be more likeable if you were honest with yourself, sometimes cheaters-" Charles began, standing his ground when she yelled back,

"So you think I cheated in this race? Seriously? That's your argument?"

"Well, we do know that last weekend there was water in your tires," Charles snapped,

"That wasn't my fault? Stop being such a sore loser, Leclerc. Maybe this is why you haven't won a championship yet."

Max's jaw dropped as he watched the words fly out of her mouth. Charles, in the meantime, tossed his water bottle to the ground and stepped closer to her with his finger in her face,

"At least I raced clean without losing grip when I tried to overtake someone. You just got lucky today, that's it."

"Luck, really? Yeah, tell me about your luck when you're fighting more with your teammate than with the other drivers on the grid during the race." She hissed.

Was it the air? Was it the fact that the adrenaline was still high after the race, or was it the fact that despite not being able to stand each other they were only centimeters apart. It didn't take long before Charles's hand dug into her scalp, pulling her head back ever so slightly as he kissed her. Seeing this as another challenge, (L/N) brought Charles down to the ground, both of them fighting to be on top while still furiously kissing each other. His hands gripped her waist and she had her arms around his neck, dragging him towards her as they rolled off of each other on the ground, tongues practically in each other's mouths with the intention of wanting to ruin each other. She scratched him, he yanked her hair, she punched his chest and he twisted her arm and yet their lips never stopped wanting to consume the other. It wasn't until (L/N) pulled away to breathe again did they both realize that Max was still there with a very shocked expression.

"I'm... I'm just going to leave and make sure uh no one else enters this room but uh guys you might want to... put yourself together before we get on the podium," Max had one hand covering his eyes as he walked out of the room.

"Do you think he's gonna tell people we just made out?" She asked, propping herself onto her elbows.

"I doubt it," Charles responded with a roll of his eyes, "I mean, who would go and loudly state that Charles Leclerc was kissing you of all people? I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

He winced when her hand smacked the back of his head.

𝙈𝙖𝙭 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

Max never forgot. He never forgot anything. He had made a promise to himself that he would wipe that smirk off her face and he intended to keep it. Even with all the setbacks that he was facing this particular weekend. Back to back penalties, a grip drop and on top of all this, a very haughty (Y/N) (L/N) purposely bumping into him on the paddock with a bright smile,

"Have fun! I've always wondered how the view from the back would look like for you," She chirped, speeding past him on a scooter. Max's jaw went taut, and he did little to hide his anger for the rest of the day. He was going to make sure that the race tomorrow would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had chosen the wrong person to mess with and he was determined to prove it to her.

Max was on a different level during the race, he was unbelievably fast and it surprised everyone but mainly (Y/N) (L/N).

Her radio went off, and someone buzzed through, "Max is currently at P6, he's coming up behind you."

"What the hell?" Her voice was a bit quiet, still in disbelief at the fact that Max was now right behind her, "How does he do this?"

And before she can react further, she sees him overtake her as he flashed his middle finger at her before speeding off. That got her going, and despite the radio telling her to calm down and control her motions, she began to chase after Max. Her ego was bruised but surely she could redeem herself. Unfortunately, she lost grip and her car went spiraling out of control towards the barriers.

"A safety car will be deployed soon, Max," GP informed the driver.

"Who crashed?"

"(Y/N) (L/N)."

Max couldn't help the giggle that escaped his lips, and to quote Alonso he merely stated, "Karma..." before turning his radio off for the rest of the race.

By the time all the celebrations were done, Max walked past (L/N)'s garage and he noticed the way she was pouting, legs crossed as she was busy texting somebody. Her fingers flew across the screen, and it almost looked like she was about to cry. Max did feel a bit bad for her, he knew she had worked to get to where she was - she was after all the only female driver on the grid so she was talented. He walked over to her in the best hopes that he could try to make her feel better, I mean he wasn't a monster.

"Oh, look who's here, the ugly ass sloth who can't mind his own business," She sneered, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. Yeah, that was it. Max didn't want to comfort her anymore, he was going to stoop down to her level.

"You know, maybe if you learned to shut your mouth and admit your mistakes, you could've actually done well in the race today." He scoffed, towering over her. She stood up, going back to texting her friend with a scowl on her face.

"Texting your mechanics to help salvage what's left of the car?" Max snorted.

"No, I'm texting my friend about how some douchebag keeps talking to me like I even asked for him. Like why the hell are you even here? Go back to your own garage, asshole." She snapped, pocketing her phone. Max threw his backpack onto the ground besides her and took a step forward,

"You know I was going to be nice to you-"

"You said Karma over the radio, I heard that shit clearly," She hissed, stepping closer as well.

"I said it in the moment, but right now I was going to be nice. I was going to comfort you. You are talented, you're not a shit driver like I said you were, but God... your ego. Your stubbornness. Your... your absolute pathetic move to shift the blame onto someone else for your wrong doings. Get over yourself, you don't know shit about your own car and yet you always blame me for something during the race!"

"My car is completely fine before you wrecked it!"

"Oh, so that DNF last weekend was my fault? You rammed into me! Let's not forget that!" Max yelled, glancing over to the new shiny car that would be in use next weekend.

"Oi, eyes on me," She snapped her fingers in his face, grabbing his jaw to turn it to her, "Don't stare at my winning car."

Max yanked her hand from his jaw, glaring at her. Oh, he hated her. He hated her so much. Even when he wanted to be nice to her, she always found a way to ruin it. How was it possible for a woman as beautiful and genuinely talented as her to somehow always end up as the most annoying, stuck-up little piece of shit that he had ever seen? Within seconds, he had her against her "amazing" car with his lips onto her. She gasped in surprise, eyes darting to the corner of the garage to make sure all the mechanics had left, but considering the way Max was making her melt in his kiss, her worries soon faded away. Max had one hand pressing her down against the car, her back hit the edge of the halo and she groaned in pain, causing her to arch into him as he deepened the kiss. Her hands came to grip onto his shoulders as she bit down on his bottom lip, and she could feel him smiling against her.

"I wish you were like this every weekend," He whispered, delving into another kiss. She wrapped her hand in his hair, tugging him gently away from her,

"I hope you realize this is a one time occurrence. I have standards," She smirked.

"They must be pretty low then like your racing skills," Max snapped, kissing her once more as he felt her smirk fade against his lips. He really did mean it when he said he was going to wipe it off her face, he just never imagined it to be in this way.

"Shut up," She mumbled, "Just shut up."

[jarofstyles]

The Heart Of The Woods

Hi my loves! I wanted to give you guys a peek into our grumpy mountain manrry! He’s different to some that I’ve written before but I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance

Read the series ( 9 parts ongoing) and 220+ exclusive writings on our Patreon!

WC- 1.4k

Warnings- tiny bit of rejection, asshole h

He hadn’t been sure what he was thinking.

Hiring a housekeeper had not been on his agenda, but it put his mum at ease. Being far from her, up in his large cabin in the middle of the mountain, she had said she worried a lot about not only his well being, but about him overworking himself. His days started early, working on splitting wood, emails, driving down to deliver it, and all of that. His group of employees that worked on the lot not too far from his own place up the mountain were his main source of socialization and even they knew not to bug him too much.

Harry preferred to be left alone.

So why hire a housekeeper? It sounded okay at the time. Someone to keep the fire stoked and the house warm so he could come home and not have the house be cold for him and his animals, someone to cook and clean and… another body in the house. Make it less lonely. Maple was a good companion, Ash was too, but a dog and a cat didn’t replace human connection. Perhaps that’s why he had found himself feeling more irritated lately.

Watching the car pull in, he had to wonder how she could fit her belongings into such a small vehicle. Weren't women supposed to have a lot of stuff? The question was answered as she stepped out of the car, light wash jeans clinging to her thighs and pink sweater hanging on her form as she waved up to him. "Hi!" she grinned a tad bit too brightly for his comfort, jogging up to the wraparound porch. "I’m so sorry l'm a little late. I got lost at the turn- the split in the road? and I didn't have good service to call and let you know. I usually try and do that.”

She was rambling.

He grumbled, wiping his hands on his work pants. “Late's fine. I didn’t have any plans today, just don’t make a habit of it.” Glancing at her car, then back at her, he gave her a little bit of a look. “You got everything you need?” He wasn’t the best at socializing, famously, but she wasn’t aware of that yet considering their talk had mainly consisted of emails. It would be something she quickly found out.

“Oh!” Her chuckle was nervous as the man stood tall above her on the wooden porch, making her look up a bit at him. “Uh, yeah. I.. I kinda had to get out of my place in a hurry, so this worked out.” She smiled up at him before looking back to her car. “Did you want me to grab my stuff now or did you want me to do it after you give me the run down of what you want me to do?”

He sighed, stepping aside to let her pass. “Follow me.” He led her inside, shutting the door behind her. It was weird feeling someone else in his space. It had been a long time since he’d heard footsteps other than his own or his pets in the hall, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet. Leading her down the wooden hall, he brought her towards the main part of the house- a large step down living room he mentally referred to as the den. The stone fireplace was lit with the fire going already as he gestured to a chair by it. “Sit.”

Y/N was distracted a little by the skylight- and then the view outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. The whole place was. She had slightly underestimated it despite the size of the place when she had applied to work eyes but she would make it work. At least the view was great. She could see that there was a deck outside, the view of the mountains sprawling behind them sort of blowing her away. The awe only lasted a few moments though, when she heard him clear his throat. Oops. “Sorry.” She smiled nervously. “The view distracted me. You’ve got a beautiful home.”

He grunted, not really used to compliments. Small talk wasn’t his thing. He sat down in his recliner, stretching his legs out in front of him before resting his hands on his knees. “So, as your employer, I expect you t’keep this place clean. Cook meals, do laundry, that sort of thing.” He paused, looking at her critically. “M’not home most of the day, and when I am I’m usually in my workshop. It’s the building out to the side that you saw.” He clasped his hands together. “We don’t need to have a ton of interaction. I need you to keep the fire stoked, maybe feed Ash for me if I get back late. I don’t have a lot of rules, but I ask you to respect my space.”

“Uh, alright.” She nodded, taking out her phone to take notes. “I figured the normal house stuff. I…” Her body felt the cringe as she went to ask it. “I haven’t really stoked a fire longer than it’s taken to do a bonfire while camping so, if there’s some sort of magic you know to keep it going longer I’d love to know it.” The girl didn’t want to fuck it up. The man worked with wood. The last thing she wanted to do was waste it.

It did make her a little unsettled to hear the other part, though. “Um, and what do you mean exactly by not needing to interact? Like, you don’t want to see or hear from me?”

Harry paused, his gaze sharpening a little on the girl. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone. He didn’t want to come home to some sort of chatty roommate. “I mean exactly that.” He said gruffly.

“Oh.” She replied quietly, swallowing the lump on her throat. Her gaze averted when his sharpened on hers, looking towards her lap. He was a little intimidating and she felt embarrassed for some reason- but logically she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t mean her body knew that, though.

“O-Okay. I’ll make sure to give you your space.” Her head nodded, convincing herself it would be good for her. Maybe akin to rejection therapy. She had hoped for something a little different, but this was the escape she had needed- she couldn’t complain. “Can you tell me what kind of foods you like, or don’t, so I can make what you’ll eat?”

Harry grunted, his expression relaxing slightly at the mention of food. He hated being bothered with small talk, but food was something he could appreciate- it was part of her job, anyways. He could talk abojt that. “I like meat and potatoes. Steak, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Don’t bother with fancy shit. Just straightforward, hearty food.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. “And coffee. Black coffee. None of that fancy latte crap. Just straight up coffee.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “That’s all you need to know for now. You can start preparing dinner and I’ll be back later.”

“Oh! I… are you sure?” She stood up too, following him. “Where should I put my things?” Part of her felt a little nervous she had fucked up with how fast he seemed to want to get out of there, but she didn’t know what she could have done to offend him. Was this just the way he was? Probably. She shouldn’t take it personally- but part of her did, just a bit. “I don’t know which room I should set my things up in.”

Harry turned around, his expression still stern. “You can set up in the spare room down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.” He pointed down the hallway before continuing. “I don’t need any help with my things. Just worry about your own shit for now.”

Her eyes fell down towards the floor, nodding at his words. It must just be the way he was, she concluded. He didn’t bother saying goodbye as she heard the door close, the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the den the only sound until the start of his pickup was muffled outside.

Who the hell was this man? And what had she gotten herself into?

[mamaagirlbehindyouu]

Fake Dating, Real Feelings Pt.1

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 925

Summary: Your friend Tara invites you to a party, but she has an ulterior motive. (This chapter is mainly build-up to what I’ll be writing in later parts, so if you don’t like slow burns then you may want to wait for later chapters to be released to begin reading <3.)

Warning: A little bit toxic (but will get better in later chapters!!)

A/N: This chapter is kinda ass ngl but more parts will come out later w/ more fluff-heavy chapters (and potentially smut)

You sat in bed, propped up on two pillows, scrolling on your laptop. It was finals season- meaning you were now starting the 9 page term paper that was due tomorrow at 12pm. It wasn’t ideal, but you had enough time to where you were still putting off writing your paper. You weren’t writing your essay on your laptop, you were scrolling through Pinterest.

That was, of course, until you got a text from someone. Picking up your phone to see who the message was from, you instinctively kicked your feet when you saw the name of who it was from. Tara. Your friend tara. The friend you just so happened to have a massive thing for.

Shutting your laptop and properly sitting up, you unlocked your phone to read the message from her.

Tara: Hey, you up?

You stared at the message for a moment, contemplating whether or not to reply. It was already 9:30, you could just leave Tara on delivered and lie tomorrow that you had had an “early night”. After all, your paper needed to get done and you could tell from the nature of Tara’s text that she either wanted to go somewhere or do something.

Yeah right, that would take more self control than you had.

Y/n: Ofc, what’s up?

Immediately after sending the text, you were met with a “Read 9:36 PM”. You watched the gray bubbles dance on your phone screen, before they disappeared and re-appeared.

Tara: Last time I’ll ask this, I swear

Tara: Will you come to a party with me tn? I want to show up like 10:30 😊

You groaned, staring at your phone again before replying. This wasn’t an infrequent request from Tara by any means- she always needs a DD considering the fact that she seems to love getting wasted. With time, the request had become more and more of a chore as she seemed to get drunker and drunker at each party you took her to. Going to parties with Tara wasn’t fun anymore, but you knew she would just find someone else to go with her if you said no and you didn’t want that.

Y/n: I’ll be there in 30.

Throwing your blankets off and setting your laptop on the nightstand, you got up, walking over to the closet. Why did you always go along with whatever Tara wanted? Well, the answer to that was obvious, but you would rather die than admit your feelings for Tara were getting serious.

After throwing on a black miniskirt and tank with a jacket on top and some boots you got into your car and began the drive to Tara’s house. This was a drive you knew all too well, and not for good reason.

When you got to Tara’s house the front door was already open, with just the screen door shut and Tara visible and sitting on the stairs. She was wearing flare jeans and a ribbed blue henley with some white Converse. You couldn’t explain how, but Tara always seemed to make the most basic of outfits come off as breathtaking. Maybe her face card was enough of an accessory.

Spotting you from where she sat on the stairs, Tara leapt up and smiled, waving her hands at you. She opened the screen door, squealing.

“Y/n! You came! Thank you so much!”

Tara’s joy was always infectious, making you forget your original reservations about that night. A smile spread across your own face as you waved back awkwardly, unsure of what to do whenever Tara’s attention was fully on you.

“Of course I did,”

You said, unaware of how un-enthusiastic you came across. You were always excited to see Tara, but being around her often made you feel awkward, frequently making it seem like you have a lackluster temperament.

“Could you act any less excited to see me?”

Tara teased as she held open the screen door for you, allowing you to enter her home.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to speak, but Tara cut you off, noticing how you seemed genuinely apologetic.

“No, I was joking. It’s okay, y/n/n,” she reassured you, offering another smile.

You smiled back and nodded in agreement, not wanting to say anything else about the matter, still embarrassed about the interaction. Tara led you up to her bedroom (not that you were unfamiliar with it).

“I just need to do my makeup real quick and then we can leave,” Tara assured you, aware that it was getting closer and closer to 10:30.

“‘real quick?’” you laughed. “Since when do you do your makeup ‘real quick’?”

“Hey, last time you came over I did my makeup in ten minutes, max- That’s, like, record time for me,” Tara defended herself, raising her hands in the air, primer in hand.

“It was more like half an hour, not ten minutes,” you corrected her as she rolled her eyes. “And why’d you invite me this time? Or was it just to be your designated driver again?” you half-called Tara out, passing it off as a joke, as you took in her features, taking advantage of the fact that she was preoccupied. You loved all of Tara’s features, but her eyes were definitely at the top of the list. How could anyone not love them?

“About that..” Tara said, stopping her makeup application, making an uncomfortable face. “I kind of need you to pretend like you’re dating me.” Suddenly, you were snapped out of your thoughts.

Pt. 2??

Photo Creds: miaolliez and geminiprinc3ss on Pinterest

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi hope it’s not to late to request a yandere vampire Ace who finds out his mortal darling is pregnant ~ please (if pregnancy makes you uncomfortable maybe reader is just very ill instead ) ,also hi hope your doing ok 👌

Vampire Ace x AFAB Reader

3.8k words

Summary: You find yourself in a precarious situation as you discover you're pregnant with your vampire boyfriend's child. You know you need to talk to him about it, but how?

Warnings: pregnancy, menstruation mention, lightly suggestive references, yandere elements, controlling boyfriend

While it was most certainly embarrassing to admit to, you had a vampire phase as a teenager. You got swept up in the popularity of vampire romance novels and the movies and TV shows that accompanied them, and it was pretty much your entire personality for a few years there. 

Dark times. Cringey times. 

However, these were also very impressionable times if your current situation was anything to go off of. If anyone would have told you back then that you would one day achieve your dream of bewitching a vampire into falling in love with you, you would have laughed in their face. Well, okay, no. You would have squealed and kicked your feet in the air. But after you got past that phase, then you would have laughed. Mostly because up to that point, you had been under the impression that vampires were works of fiction.

But then you met Ace. It happened when you were on a solo road trip. You needed some time away from everything and wanted to start fresh somewhere new, so what better way to scope out a new place than to drive around the country until you found a place that spoke to you? It seemed like a good idea, and by most accounts it was, but there was one major flaw in your plan. You didn’t know how to perform maintenance on your car, which is a pretty glaring issue when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere at night. You had no signal, so you were left poking and prodding at the stuff under the hood of your car in hopes that it would magically come back to life. 

It didn’t take long for you to give up and realize that you were probably only going to do more harm than good. You considered walking until you either found a town or got a signal, but you didn’t want to do that at night. Just as you were about to get back into your car to sleep until morning, you saw the headlights of a vehicle coming down the road. You waved your arms as the vehicle, a large motorhome, drew closer. Honestly, you hadn’t expected the person to actually pull over, but he did, and that’s how you met Ace.

One thing led to another, and he went from being just some guy who helped you out in your time of need, to your boyfriend. It was something of a whirlwind romance, moving at a startling pace that would surely leave your parents clutching their pearls, but when you know you know.

That, and there’s just something about someone trusting you enough to admit to being a creature of legend that makes one’s heart flutter.

Ace was a far cry from the vampire love interests you read about as a teen. Rather than living in a gothic castle in the countryside, or skulking around a high school, he lived in an old RV that he traveled the country in. It was an interesting set up, that’s for sure. All of the windows are covered by several layers of thick curtains. The windshield also had a cover put up during daylight, as well as several thick curtains isolating the cab from the rest of the camper. He would drive and explore at night, then retreat into the darkened parts of the RV during the day.

Thanks to you adapting to his nocturnal lifestyle, you would usually be up all night with him while he drives and sleep with him during the day. From what you understood, he didn’t really need to sleep, but he claims that it feels nice and he likes to do it anyway. Despite that, you would usually wake up to find him absent from the bedroom and entertaining himself in the main part of the camper while he waited for you to wake up or for night to come, whichever came first.

However, sometimes you would find yourself driving during the day. Mostly when there was something time sensitive that Ace wanted to go to and if you guys were falling behind; a common occurrence with how much he loved to take his time exploring every place he went. When that happened, you would stay up during the day to drive while he hid away in the bedroom. These days were spent with him loudly bemoaning how terrible and crushing the loneliness was as if y’all were separated by miles and he wasn’t actively facetiming you. Being highly dramatic was perhaps his most stereotypical vampiric trait.

Today was one of those days where you were up driving for him. There was a music festival coming up this weekend that he really wanted to go to, but it was still several states away. You honestly don’t mind the day driving. It’s nice to get natural vitamin D instead of relying exclusively on supplements. Ace had been keeping you company via facetime for a few hours, but he had nodded off about an hour ago.

Having a moment to yourself was nice, doubly so when you have a lot on your mind. You made a very shocking discovery recently, one that you hadn’t thought was ever going to be a problem for you. Though, maybe that was because you weren’t exactly an expert on vampires and how their bodies work.

Because really, how were you supposed to know that pregnancy was on the table when you were seeing a vampire? Sure, some of those vampire shows and books covered this, but it was always treated like something that could never ever happen, and that if it did, it was a freak incident. 

The relationship was still very young, neither of you had ever discussed children. You were still young, and you assumed that him not using any protection was a silent indicator that you didn’t have anything to worry about. Surely he would have used it or talked to you about contraception if it was something he was concerned about, right? Wrong, apparently. 

As far as you could tell, you were only around six or so weeks into your pregnancy if your period tracker was accurate. You haven’t been able to go to a real doctor yet, but the pregnancy tests you took all came back positive. The tests were stuffed into the same drawer you kept your menstrual supplies in after you had finished having a silent mental breakdown. You still needed time to figure out how to break the news to Ace.

Would he be happy? Pissed? Would he freak out because the hybrid baby will be a superpowered freak of nature that will kill you? You had literally nothing to work with. Since you two have never discussed children, he’s also never told you about what a hybrid could potentially look like, and that was just you assuming that he knew. You were completely in the dark, and it was terrifying. You needed reassurance, but you had no one to get it from.

You heave a sigh as you shake your head and force yourself back into the present moment. There was an exit coming up on the interstate advertising the local amenities. A quick glance down at the fuel gauge confirmed that it was about time for you to stop and get gas. The turn signal is flicked on as you merge into the exit only lane. 

It only takes a couple of minutes for you to navigate your way to the nearby gas station and park at a pump. Your phone starts to ring before the RV has even come to a complete stop. You shift it into park and turn the engine off before answering.

“Is everything alright? Why are we stopping?” Ace’s sleep-addled voice came through the phone.

“Everything’s fine, we just needed gas. I’m going to run into the station to use the bathroom and maybe get an energy drink.” You stretch as you stand up, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear as your joints crackle and pop after spending hours seated.

“Are you getting tired? Just find a place for us to park until night, don’t force yourself to stay awake.” 

His consideration for you made your chest feel warm and fuzzy despite your anxiety. “I don’t mind, I know you’ve been looking forward to that festival.”

“It’s just a festival, there will be more of those. There’s only one of you, I don’t want you getting burnt out or hurt because of me. Just find a place to park, okay?” His words were sweet, but his tone left no room for debate.

A quiet sigh escapes you as you admit defeat, “Alright, I’ll ask the cashier if there’s a campground or something around here.”

“Good. Besides, I’ve been missing you. I don’t think I can wait until night to see you again.” His playful, flirty tone makes you smile.

You giggle softly as you make your way to the door, “I miss you, too, baby. See you in a bit, love you.”

“I love you more. Could you close the cab curtain before you go?”

“Of course,” You quickly spin on your heels and pull the dividing curtains shut. After one last exchange of “I love you’s”, you hang up and exit the RV. The fresh air, even while tinged with the scent of fuel, is pleasant after being cooped up in a vehicle all day. You quickly walk around to the gas pump and start refueling. While you’re leaned against the camper and waiting for the tank to fill, you can hear Ace moving around inside. It was relatively common for him to take advantage of these pit stops to get out of the bedroom and stretch his legs. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just wait until after you got to the nearest campground, but whatever. It’s no skin off your back.

The gas pump loudly clicks off. You push yourself off the camper and hang it up before heading inside to relieve yourself and pay for the gas. The door chimes quietly and a young cashier with glasses casually greets you before returning her attention to the coffee machine she’s refilling, looking as if she would rather be anywhere but here.

You follow the sign pointing you to the single person bathroom and slip inside. The lights are dim and flickering, and the harsh scent of cleaning chemicals assaults your senses, though you suppose that it’s better than the alternative. You quickly do your business and wash your hands. You look into the mirror at your reflection, taking in your appearance. The “pregnancy glow” that so many people talk about was nowhere to be found in your humble opinion. All that you see is an exhausted, stressed out woman.

But staring headlong into your reflection isn’t going to help anything. You rip off some paper towels from the dispenser and dry your hands before leaving the restroom. Rather than going straight to the counter to pay for the fuel, you wander around the aisles, debating if you want any snacks or drinks.

The section of the refrigerators with energy drinks in it catches your eye. Now that you’re thinking about it, you suppose you couldn’t have actually gotten one of these anyway. You’re far from an expert on pregnancy do’s and don’t’s, but you’re pretty sure that energy drinks are a hard no. Caffeine is a no-no in general, you think. Damn, that probably means no coffee or soda either. You shoot a half-hearted glare down at your abdomen, internally cursing how you’re already having to make sacrifices for something the size of a grape, if that.

With a somewhat heavy heart, you grab a bottle of juice and peruse the candy aisle, grabbing a couple of things you had been craving lately, then go to the counter to check out. The cashier is already behind it, leaning against the counter with her chin propped up on her fist. She straightens up when she sees you approaching and plasters on a less than convincing customer service smile, “Good afternoon. You had the gas outside, right?”

“Yep, at pump…” your brain draws a total blank. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’re not sure you ever even looked, “Uh, whichever one has the RV in front of it.”

The cashier takes a quick glance at a screen showing the pumps outside while quickly scanning the few things you brought to the counter. She presses a button on the register to add the gas, then reads you the total.

You pull out some cash from your pocket and hand her enough to cover it. While she’s getting your change, you remember that you were supposed to ask if there were any campgrounds in town. You clear your throat, “Hey, do you know if there’s a campground around these parts?” 

She glances at you, then fishes out the rest of your change from the drawer, “Yeah. It’s on the other end of town. There are a couple of signs for it.” Her hand extends and drops the coins into your open palm.

“Cool, thank you. Have a nice day.” You smile politely as you grab your items.

The cashier chuckles dryly at your comment, “Yeah… you, too.”

Not wanting to make Ace wait much longer, you promptly exit the gas station and hurry back to the RV. You get to the door and knock three times to give Ace a chance to run back to the bedroom. This was a rule established between you two so as to prevent you from accidentally torching your dear boyfriend with sunlight. You listen closely, but you don’t hear anything. After a moment, you crack open the door, assuming that he must have already gone into the room.

The juice and candy are set in the kitchenette, and you call out to Ace, “There’s a campground here in town, it should only take a minute or two to get there.” You wait for a response, but hear nothing. You frown and look up at the bedroom door, “Ace?”

“I heard you.”

His voice is muffled, but that does nothing to hide how curt his tone was. Your heart sank immediately and anxiety clouded your mind. Where did this mood shift come from? He was just saying that he loved you a few minutes ago. What happened while you were gone?

As much as you wanted to burst into the bedroom and confront him here and now, you knew that was a bad idea. You needed to park somewhere where you wouldn’t have to worry about being intruded upon. You swallow thickly, then get back in the driver seat. The RV is started and you hurry to your destination, trying to ignore the growing nausea in your stomach. Whether it was the pregnancy or the stress was anyone’s guess. You just hoped you could get this thing parked before you had to throw up. Morning sickness hadn’t been much of a problem for you yet beyond occasional bouts of nausea, and you were really hoping it would stay that way.

In a few minutes, you’re at the campground and the RV is parked and turned off. Your hands are sweating as you push the windshield cover into place, then close the cab’s curtain. You turn on the artificial lights, then take a deep breath, “You can come out now.”

The second the words leave your mouth, the bedroom door is practically ripped off its hinges from how hard Ace forced it open. His face is contorted in anger, and you’re sure it would be flushed red if he were still a human. 

Instinctually, you take a step back from him, not expecting such an aggressive entrance. Your eyes frantically search his face and body for any clues as to where this was coming from, only to lock onto some things clutched in one of his hands. Your heart leapt up into your throat.

Oh no.

“How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” His words are sharp and dripping with venom.

“I- I-”

“You what?! I can trust you with knowing that I’m a fucking vampire, but you don’t trust me enough to tell me that you’re pregnant?!” The gap between you was closed quickly as he strode up to you. The positive pregnancy tests were thrown to the floor and scattered as Ace’s hands locked onto your biceps and pulled you even closer to him.

Your hands push on his heaving chest, but he doesn’t budge. You’re fully panicking now as your mind scrambles to find anything you could say to assuage him, “I was going to tell you! I promise!”

“When? How long have you known?” Ace’s lip pulled back into a snarl, showing off his enlarged fangs.

“Not even a week! It’s only been a few days, Ace!” All the other words on your tongue die as the fluctuating hormones and mounting stress collides inside you and breaks the dam holding back your boiling emotions. Hot tears bubble to the surface and pour down your face as choked sobs come out, carrying the jumbled words lodged in your throat, “I didn’t know what to do! I was scared!”

More sobs tear out of you as you completely fall apart. Ace never yelled at you, and you were absolutely not in the state of mind to handle this happening now. This was precisely why you hadn’t told him yet. This was the reaction you were afraid of.

Ace’s hands loosened their grip on your arms, “Shit…”

His hands let go of you, then he wrapped his arms around you, cradling your frame to his chest. “Wait, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you’re scared, I should have figured as much.” His words come out hushed, but at a frantic pace as he tries to calm you down. In an instant, his arms drop down enough to lift you up off the floor while he continues to whisper assurances into your ear.

Despite his attempt at comfort, you were too distressed to accept his words. “I should have told you… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m the one that jumped to conclusions.” Ace was having none of your attempt to take the blame back. 

You hadn’t even realized he had been moving until you heard the bedroom door close and fell onto the bed while held in Ace’s arms. You sniffle loudly and look up at him, though that was pointless. He hadn’t bothered turning on the lamp, so you had no idea what emotions his face held. You’re sure that was intentional on his part. One of his hands strokes your hair while the other holds you tight to him.

When he doesn’t show any indication of intending to speak, you take the lead, “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad at you. I just lost my cool for a second there.”

While the answer was sweet, it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. “Not at me. Are you mad about… the baby?”

Ace stiffened and held you tighter. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for his response. The hand in your hair tangled into it to push your face into his neck, while the other hand clutched your hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he speaks quietly, “I’m not… mad about the baby either.”

Another silence falls over the room, one that you would break again, “Did you know that this could happen?”

This time, his answer was quick, “No.”

“So you don’t know what’s going to come next, do you?”

His arms tighten around you even more, “I don’t.”

The silence returned, though it felt much more tense and uncomfortable now. Your voice is just barely audible as you speak again, “I’m scared.”

“I… It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out. I’m here for you.”

Those words were what you had been needing to hear since the beginning. Finally, you feel relaxed enough to return his embrace and melt into him, soaking up his reassuring, albeit physically cold, presence. “I love you.”

Ace presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you more.”

For a while, you two take solace in each other’s companionship. That hadn’t gone exactly how you would have liked, but you feel happy with the current resolution, even if a lot is still up in the air. At least you know that Ace has your back no matter what.

Still, all the emotions that had burst within you earlier remained in there, bouncing around and making you feel antsy. You could stand to get some fresh air and walk it off. You squeeze Ace, then pull away a little. Even though you may not be able to see him, you know that he can see you perfectly.

“I think going for a walk would do me some good. I need some fresh air.”

“Oh… Yeah, of course,” Ace’s hold doesn’t loosen even a little bit. “We’ll go for a walk after the sun goes down.” With that, he pulls you back to him snugly. 

You sigh softly and squirm in his arms, “I meant now. The sunlight will probably be good for me.”

“But I won’t be able to go with you. Just wait.” His voice took on something of a stern edge.

“I’ve gone for plenty of walks by myself before, Ace. I won’t be gone long.”

Ace sighs deeply and keeps a firm grip on you. He speaks in a low tone, “Yeah, well last time you went for a walk, you weren’t carrying a half-vampire spawn in you. You’re done going for walks during the day or doing anything alone. I’m not risking a hunter finding you like this, especially not when I’ll be powerless to even follow you.”

While Ace being protective was hardly anything new, this was a lot even by his standards. “That’s a little extreme. I can’t just stay cooped up for months.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s extreme, this is just what we’re doing now.”

“But-”

Your face is abruptly grabbed and brought closer to Ace’s face. His nose brushes against yours as your cheeks are squished together. The chilled air of his breath fans out across your face as he speaks, “This is not up for debate. Drop it.”

“... Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.” The desire to plead your case was certainly burning within you, but you could tell that you weren’t going to make any headway with Ace today. You sigh in an exasperated manner as you’re pulled back into his embrace.

This has been a lot for him to take in in one day. You’re sure that he’ll calm down after everything has a chance to sink in. You just need to be patient. It’s not like he’s going to hold you hostage inside a camper for the entire duration of your pregnancy. He would never go that far… At least you hope.

[soulessjourney]

Hello love I have a request that I would love you to write!

Cassian or Azriel I am not picky and Y/N

Y/n gets into an argument with Cassian and or Azriel about how they are not attentive, and they’re for them anymore and says that if things don’t change they’re leaving. Things do not change and it is the night that the inner circle goes into Hewn city. at the gala, Eris ask Y/N to dance. And one of the boys is really brooding just standing in a corner just watching YN and Eris dance and then is the part where Taylor goes. “I can see you staring honey like he’s just your understudy like you get your knuckles, bloody for me” I want their eyes to connect from across the dance floor. That would be great. then I am giving you full creative freedom with the undertones of exile by Taylor Swift. give me all the angst you can give the more the better.

I absolutely love this idea! I hope that I live up to your expectations and provided enough angst to feed that burning hunger of yours! Also apologies that it has taken me so long, in all honesty I kept forgetting what I was writing and I wanted it to be PERFECT.

Exile

Paring: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: Azriel starts to distance himself from you. Fed up with his disappearing acts, you confront him, only for it to end in driving you away entirely.

Warnings: Angst (and lots of it), Fighting, Language, Hurt and comfort (from Mor)

If there was one thing Azriel was known for, it was his dedication to his work and his undying loyalty to Rhysand. He was also your mate, someone who meant the entire world to you. You had met Azriel about two hundred years ago when you started your bakery. He came in after watching you struggle with carrying the large bags of flour, extending a helping hand. Since then, he started coming daily to see what new goods you were cooking up, and that's when he asked you on your first date.

The first date was a bit awkward as he shied away, speaking in such a hushed tone that you had to repeatedly ask him to repeat himself. Despite Azriel's strength, you loved his shy side. There was something so docile and soft about it, and you were the only one who truly got to see that side of him.

When the bond snapped into place, both of you were fighting over who would mix the flour, ending with both of you covered from head to toe. It was when he heard your infectious laugh that he felt it, and it was obvious when you gave him that loving gaze he was drawn to. Your eyes were so soft, and your smile was wide. So, that evening, you made him his favorite treat and offered it to him, which soon led to Azriel making sure Rhysand got it through Cassian’s head that you two were not to be bothered for a few weeks.

Those were the moments you missed more than anything. You missed curling up with Azriel as you read the same book, often sharing your reactions. You missed hiding from him to scare him, only to fail the moment his shadows shot out to greet you after a long day. You missed your mate, and your happy memories felt like a fever dream. He was starting to become a distant memory, and part of you wasn’t even sure if you wanted to put up a fight.

You couldn't recall the last time you had spent more than a few moments with him. Lately, he had been staying at the House of Wind to be closer to Rhysand, ready for any last-minute missions that might arise. Initially, you didn't mind, considering Rhysand's frequent missions, especially when Feyre was pregnant and needed his support. However, what began to trouble you was that he never invited you to join him, nor did he visit your shared home to see you.

Then you heard about the time he started spending with Elain. You weren't bothered by her, as you couldn't blame her for shutting everyone out. Her entire life had been stripped away in a matter of moments, and now she was essentially immortal, with a mate forced upon her. However, understanding also brought weariness. You could sense that she had developed feelings for your mate, and Azriel, being who he is, most likely was unaware of the affection she held towards him. Strangely, this knowledge made you want to be around him more, but you didn't know how to navigate the situation.

Azriel had been a significant presence in your life, and the sensation of him slipping away was something you loathed. At some point, he had closed off the bond, making it nearly impossible to reach out to him through it. Running your hands over your face, you attempted to dispel the exhaustion before deciding to visit the House of Wind to ensure Azriel was at least alive.

Your arrival at the House of Wind did not go unnoticed. Cassian, upon spotting you ascending to the training area, made your presence known. "Y/N! You're here. We've been wondering when you would show up. We were starting to think you didn't like us," he teased, capturing everyone's attention.

Clearing your throat, you offered him a small smile as the breeze tousled your hair. "Yeah, things have been hectic at the bakery. Have you seen Azriel? It's been hard to find him lately," you inquired, noticing Cassian's expression contorting into one of pure confusion.

"What do you mean? He said he was with you this morning," Cassian replied, scrutinizing your every move. Dread began to fill your body as the realization that Azriel had even been deceiving the others dawned on you.

Forcefully laughing, you scratched the back of your head, clearing your throat. "No, he was! By 'lately,' I meant during the day since he's usually all over because of the missions Rhys keeps assigning him," you explained, even your forced smile fading as Cassian's gaze filled with concern and pity.

"Y/N, Rhys hasn't assigned him anything for a while, not after what happened with Feyre and your injury. Rhys wanted him to be around you more because of that close call. Are you telling me you haven't seen him?" Cassian inquired, raising a brow and challenging you to lie. By now, the entire area had cleared out except for Nesta, who stood in the background watching you and Cassian, her jaw tense. She knew something, and you would extract it from her if necessary.

"No, I haven't. I mean, he comes home once in a blue moon, but then he just sleeps in the guest room, and he's gone by the time I wake up," you admitted, your shoulders sagging. "I really miss him, Cass. The nightmares are starting to return. He's not avoiding me because he blames himself for what happened, right?" Just a few months ago, Azriel had angered someone, resulting in a dagger being firmly lodged in your side. Recalling that moment, you realized Azriel wasn't present when Cassian and Feyre found you on the floor of the bakery's kitchen that morning.

You heard Nesta curse before she joined Cassian's side. "I spoke to the idiot already, and I thought I got through to him. He's with Elain in the garden. I saw them just before training started, and considering how often they spend time there, he should still be there," she divulged, her expression shifting from anger to guilt. You wanted to be furious, but part of you couldn't muster the anger towards her. Nesta had tried her best to handle the situation discreetly, but with her knowing, you wondered just how long Azriel had been sneaking around with Elain while deceiving the rest of his family.

You hadn’t heard anything else Nesta had said as your feet carried you through the house. Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a solid chest, causing you to stumble back. Looking up, you sucked in a deep breath as your eyes locked with a pair of hazel ones. "Azriel," you breathed, reaching out towards him. Your hand fell to your side when he pulled away from you. "I've missed you. You're never around anymore," your voice thick with emotion as you struggled to say anything beyond the standard 'I miss you'.

Azriel glanced over your shoulder, his expression hardening. "You're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?" His eyes eventually met yours as a scoff escaped your mouth. You hadn’t seen your mate for the past few weeks, and that’s what he had to say to you? That you weren’t supposed to be there, trying to ensure he was alive?

"You're joking, right? Azriel, I haven’t seen you for weeks, and that’s all you have to say? A hello would’ve been nice at least," you snapped, crossing your arms. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. "No, you don’t get to walk away from me, Azriel. That’s not fair. You don’t get to pull a disappearing act without some sort of explanation. You don’t get to lie to your family and expect not to get caught," you snapped, following after him. As the two of you entered the dining area, you missed the others sitting at the table, their conversations cut short as you stomped after Azriel.

Azriel stopped and spun towards you, his wings flaring slightly. "My gods, Y/N, can’t you just get off my back? I’m not going to be there every single second of the day with you. You need to learn how to live without me for once in your life." Any sound that filled the room suddenly fell silent as you took a step back, feeling as though he had slapped you.

"Oh, shit." Looking around, you came face to face with your family, all silent as they watched you. Nesta was glaring daggers at Azriel, while Cassian and Rhysand were positioned to intervene if things went south. Mor and Feyre looked at you, their faces filled with guilt. Then there was Elain, sitting there with the audacity to appear clueless about what was happening. Your entire family was there to witness the potential downfall of your relationship with Azriel. Great.

"What's your issue, Y/N? Why are you on my case today? I haven’t done anything to deserve this nagging. Gods, it’s like after you healed, you became an overbearing mess," Nesta slammed her hands down on the table and stood, prompting Cassian to grab hold of her to prevent her from lunging at Azriel across the room.

A dry laugh escaped you as you narrowed your eyes. “Overbearing? Azriel, you haven’t been around in weeks! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me. And overbearing? Day to day, I have to deal with the people you anger, and I constantly fear for my life because of your job. I took a damn dagger to the side and almost died because of your job. I’m sorry if accepting you for who you are and your job is overbearing. I’m sorry that worrying for you is just so awful. You’ve changed, Azriel, and I don’t know if it’s because of the damn elephant in the room or if you’ve simply given up. I’m tired of dealing with the nightmares alone, and I want you back by my side when I wake up screaming because I constantly feel that dagger ripping me apart.” Tears streamed down your face as you looked around.

Rhysand had slowly made his way towards you with Mor by his side, the two members of this family, besides Cassian, whom you trusted with your life. Glaring down at the ground, you looked up at Azriel, your face void of any emotion. “If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done.” Azriel froze as a flood of fear slammed into you. He slipped, and you could tell the moment he slammed those walls back up.

“Clean up my act? You’re the one to talk. It’s like ever since you woke up, you became afraid of the world all over again. You shouldn’t need us to walk you to work and back. You shouldn’t need us hanging around the store all day just because you’re scared of someone showing up. I can’t stand to have a mate who is so fearful of the world.” You dropped your shoulders in defeat at his words. It was true; after what happened, you had been terrified of being in that shop, fearing they would come back and finish the job.

Rhysand was next to you in a second, followed by Mor, who caught you as your knees gave out. “That is no way to speak to your mate, Azriel,” Rhysand spat. “You sat around moping because you wanted one. The Mother blesses you with one, and this is how you thank her? Seriously?” Rhysand crossed his arms, the room noticeably darkening.

“Well, maybe she made a mistake. Maybe Y/N isn’t supposed to be my mate. We have nothing in common, meanwhile, Elain and I do.” The moment the words left his mouth, your head snapped in Elain’s direction as you clenched your jaw.

Looking back at Azriel, you shook your head. “I mean it, Azriel. If you can’t clean up your act, I’m done. Don’t bother looking for me until you figure out your mess. I’m done,” you spat, winnowing from your very spot into your room. Grabbing a duffel bag, you began to cram things into it just as you heard footsteps sprinting down the hall towards your door, and the echoes of voices calling out to the owner of those steps.

As Azriel threw open the door, you looked at him as he reached out for you, his mouth opening to say something. Before you could hear what he had to say, you disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of your room.

---

It had been a month since you chose to seclude yourself in Mor's guest bedroom. As the door slowly opened, light flooded into the dark room, and Mor stepped inside. Sitting on the bed, she gently rubbed your back to draw your attention. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's time to get you out of this room. Velaris has started to notice your absence now that the bakery is closed," she said softly, sensing your reluctance. "He still asks about you, but he's also spending more time with her. Rhys has tried talking sense into him, Cassian kicked his ass, and the girls have been giving him the cold shoulder. I'm sorry, my love, but perhaps attending the Gala in Hewn City would do you good," she suggested, brushing your hair away from your face gently.

You nodded and turned onto your side to look at her, a small frown forming on your lips. Mor's gaze softened as she sighed softly. "Come, I want to show you something," she said, gently pulling you out of bed. Standing up, you followed her out of the room toward another one just down the hall. Mor pushed the door open, revealing a mannequin adorned with a stunning deep purple gown featuring delicate beadwork climbing the bodice. The main skirts bore the design of a tree and leaves, with the beads on the skirt representing flowers. It was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen.

"I had it made for you to wear tonight. You deserve to look and feel beautiful. Azriel is taking you for granted. With your beauty and eyes that could bring a man to his knees, this dress is perfect for you," Mor whispered from behind you, resting her hands on your shoulders gently.

A wide smile graced your lips for the first time in a month as you turned to face Mor. "Thank you, Mor. Truly, it means a lot to me that you did this," your words were soft and heartfelt. A sense of brokenness lingered within you, the result of Azriel's neglect over the past month, compounded by the knowledge of his time spent with Elain. Mor guided you to the bathroom, where she helped you into the tub and began to wet and wash your hair.

"You know, we’re all upset with him for treating you like this. Yes, Elain needed help before, but even Nesta started to reprimand him for spending too much time with her. I remember when he first came home after meeting you. He was covered in flowers and had the biggest grin on his face. He couldn't stop talking about you, and Cassian often had to beg him to stop. But then, after one of his missions went awry and you got hurt, everything changed. He refused to see you, or even go near that part of the house. And then he kissed Elain. I thought Nesta was going to tear him to shreds. After that, he began lying to us about spending time with you, even after Rhysand practically forced him out of the garden." Mor's words pierced through you, mentioning the kiss shattered your fragile emotional state.

A wave of despair washed over you. Shoulders slumping, you gazed down at the water surrounding your bare form. "Do you think he still loves me?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Mor took a deep breath, visibly caught off guard by your question. She hummed softly as she poured water over your head, grappling for the right words.

"I'm sure he does. Azriel is complex, we all know that. For centuries, he's prayed to The Mother for a mate. I heard him whispering a prayer every night until he met you. Then it turned into begging her to ensure your safety. Azriel tends to shut down and push away those closest to him when he's struggling to cope. He avoided Rhysand when he returned from Amarantha's clutches. His treatment of you isn't fair, but I genuinely don't know how to reach him anymore." Mor cleared her throat, rising to her feet. "I'll leave you to dry off and get into a robe. When you're ready, come downstairs, and I'll help you dress and do your hair," she offered with a comforting smile, squeezing your shoulder before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for you to exit the tub once the water turned cold. After drying off your body, you slipped on a black silk robe and began to towel dry your hair. As you made your way towards the stairs, you made a mental note to find a way to thank Mor for everything she had done for you. Nearing the bottom of the steps, you froze upon hearing Mor engaged in a conversation with someone. Peeking around the corner, you spotted Azriel standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room, while Mor stared at him with an intense gaze. “She thinks you don’t love her, Azriel. You’ve pushed her to the brink of giving up,” she snapped, causing him to tense at her words.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to say. “I do, I just... I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a month, and I’m starting to go crazy, Mor. I don’t know what to do about it anymore, and it feels like everything I say comes out wrong,” he confessed. You noticed his shadows lurking in the room, beginning to slither their way towards you.

“And what about the kiss, Azriel? You kissed Elain while your own mate was at home, thinking you were off on some mission Rhysand assigned to you,” Mor jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “You gave up, and she kept pushing. This is your doing, and you need to figure it out. She was serious when she told you to clean up your act. Right now, you’re showing her you’ll never change, not after you hadn’t even bothered to come see her for a month knowing she was here. You pushed her aside for Elain. It’s time you finally accept the consequences of your actions, Azriel. If you lose her for good, that’ll be on you.” Before Azriel could respond, he tensed and turned towards you, his eyes widening.

Allowing your gaze to fall into a blank expression, you looked at Mor. “I’m ready,” your voice came out as a whisper, and Mor nodded, shoving past Azriel. You both made your way back up the stairs, leaving Azriel standing alone in the middle of the room. Once again, you were just out of his reach, and once again, he was on the verge of losing you for good.

---

The gala was breathtaking. Witnessing the courts gathering together always brought you immense joy. Tamlin made his way towards you, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N! It’s good to see you again. We've been missing your baked goods dearly,” he grinned, prompting a laugh from you. Born in the Spring court, you had grown close to Tamlin, and it was there that you honed your baking skills while growing up. When the time came for you to seek a new path, Tamlin had let you go, assuring you that you would always have a home to return to.

When Azriel pulled his disappearing acts, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you often debated returning to Spring, where you knew you had a family who would welcome you with open arms. “Thank you, Tamlin. If I'm ever permitted, I’ll be sure to bring you some of my cookies that you drooled over,” you teased, brushing a curl away from your shoulder.

Tamlin looked around, a questioning look flashing across his face. “Where’s your mate? The last time you and I talked, he was glued to your side.” Your eyes dulled slightly as you shrugged. You hadn’t seen Azriel all evening, though you knew he was here as you were constantly followed by a shadow.

Before you could respond, Eris made his appearance, as fashionable as ever. “Y/N, you truly outdid yourself this time. You look absolutely breathtaking in that dress. Shall we have a dance?” Without waiting for your answer, Eris grabbed your hand and led you towards the dance floor, where bodies swirled in a mesmerizing pattern. You and Eris fell into an easy rhythm as he looked down at you. “Sorry to drag you away from Tamlin, but I couldn’t help but notice how sad you looked. Is it because of your mate?” His eyes bore into yours as you sucked in a deep breath.

“It would be a mistake to lie to you,” you grumbled, earning a laugh of agreement from him. “Azriel and I haven’t talked for a good while. He’s been busy with other things,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. As you both spun, you caught sight of him standing in the corner of the room, watching you. Your eyes hardened as they locked onto his.

Eris cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “You know, if you need a break from your home, you can stay in my court. We obviously have the room, and I can make sure you get the space you need to think. As much as Morrigan hates me, she’s worried about you to the point where she asked me for help.” Studying his gaze, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was being genuine.

Looking towards Azriel again, you studied him, your eyes narrowing as Elain walked up to him, handing him a glass. Biting back your tears, you let your walls down, throwing every ounce of anger, betrayal, sadness, and fear at him. You watched as he stumbled back slightly, his hand flying up over his chest, his eyes locking onto yours. You watched as Elain reached out to him, running her hand over his arm as she tried to check on him. Eris stopped moving as he stood next to you, watching the interaction between the both of them. “Just say the word, and I can take you away from here,” he whispered.

You waited for him to brush off Elain, but he didn’t. He let her hand rest on his cheek as he kept his eyes on yours, his eyes widening. “He doesn’t care about me anymore, Eris. Take me to your court,” you said, looking up at Eris, who only nodded. You didn’t miss how he glanced at Rhysand and the others, giving them a small nod. You didn’t miss how their shoulders sagged in defeat once they realized you were leaving. You didn’t miss how the crowd began to part as Azriel raced towards you, dropping to his knees in front of you. You watched as his body shook with sobs, how he begged you to stay, begged you to stay by his side. “Where were you when I begged The Mother to bring you back to me? Where were you when I was dying on the kitchen floor of my own bakery after taking a knife for you? Where were you when I woke up screaming for you? Go back to Elain, Azriel. You made your decision.” With that, you turned to Eris, giving him a small nod. With that, the both of you walked away, leaving Azriel on the ground sobbing into his hands before he disappeared from your sight as the crowd closed behind you.

[merakiui]

Omg!! The rivalry that azul would have with the female houswarden

Also I think that Vil and the other houswarden would work together pretty good

You and Azul constantly get into disagreements regarding Housewarden capability. It’s not your fault the students come to you with their issues because you’re a pretty girl and they’re charmed. It’s not your fault you lend your time and ears to these poor, unfortunate souls just so they can feel better, and when you have a favor that needs to be done they’re quick to offer help. You’re sweet and disarming in your appearance and actions. Of course they’d be more inclined to visit you. Every time Azul tells you you ought to send struggling students his way, you just smile and shake your head. Maybe you’re the better Housewarden. :) and that drives him wild.

You and Vil are the power couple (of Housewardens) of all time! You work so well together, utilizing each other’s strengths and beauty to foster a pleasant dorm environment. There’s mutual respect between the both of you; you’re equals who work together regarding dorm matters. Vil is pleased to work alongside a Housewarden as wonderful as you. I like to think whenever the both of you are together, standing side by side or simply walking down the halls, it’s a formidable sight. Your dorm reveres the both of you, so seeing their great Housewardens together always makes for an impressive sight.

You and Riddle get along swimmingly. Just don’t let him catch you being lenient towards the students if they’ve broken a rule. Perhaps your dynamic is something of a good cop, bad cop. Riddle can be so stuffy and strict sometimes, but if he’s not around you’ll help the punished students to make their lives easier. Much like Trey, you also play a role in keeping Riddle’s temper at bay. Riddle listens to you, but maybe that’s because he sincerely admires you. You’re a fine Housewarden; he wouldn’t work with anyone else. <3

Being Housewarden alongside Kalim is exhausting. If your personality is more like his, then Scarabia essentially becomes known for its extravagant and exciting parties. If you’re more like Jamil, you try your hardest to monitor Kalim’s proclivity to spend spontaneously or insist upon weekly dorm banquets and feasts and parties. Jamil is probably thankful there’s another voice of reason around.

I think there’s an odd power dynamic between you and Malleus. When you first became a Housewarden, the dorm was slow to accept this. In their eyes, no one can compare to Malleus. You had to prove to them that you’re worthy of this position, that you’re worthy to stand beside Malleus as Diasomnia’s second Housewarden. It wasn’t until Malleus made it known that you and your efforts ought to be appreciated that the dorm finally warmed up to you. Even so, there’s still a vast gap between you and Malleus. You consider your relationship something professional, like that of a business. You and Malleus may be on friendly terms, but you’re still Housewardens who have responsibilities to accomplish. This is sad news for Malleus because he genuinely wants to befriend you. >_<

Maybe you and Idia are complete opposites. You take care of all the social aspects of Housewarden while he does the parts that don’t require much interaction. Idia’s shy, not only because you’re a girl but also because he’s just not used to having someone around him all the time. You constantly visit his dorm room to ask for his advice on things or to discuss activities you’d like to put on for the dorm members. At first, he wanted nothing more than to shrivel and disappear every time you came to his door. But now he doesn’t mind opening it and letting you poke your head inside. You’re nice and you even like some of the same things he does. You’re the coolest of cool in Idia’s eyes. You play video games, you’re cute, you watch anime and read manga, and you said it’s neat every time he rambles excitedly about his favorite things. He didn’t really believe you at first and was certain you’d just poke fun, but you didn’t. You genuinely meant that. Now he thinks of you and his heart goes doki doki.

Like the dynamic with Vil and his Housewarden, there is lots of respect between you and Leona. I think he naturally holds you in higher regard, not only because you’re a beastgirl and it’s beastfolk instinct to do that, but because he really does admire you and the work you do as Housewarden. He may be king around here, but when it comes to beastfolk hierarchy you’re still on top. Which is why he looks out for you and is willing to do certain things for you if you ask. He cares a lot and wants to make sure you’re given the same amount of respect and appreciation from the dorm as he gets. But he also knows he doesn’t need to be your knight in shining armor because you’re very strong and can easily hold your own here. Even if there are moments where you are distressed or need help, he’s there for you. As gruff as he can be, you know he cares. Now if only he’d be a little more proactive when it came to Housewarden duties… ^^;;;

[adieutristana]

hey, so i know that these kinds of posts have been flooding the jinx x reader tag lately, but i wanted to give my piece. i have a new jinx fic in the works, keep an eye out for that :)

i don’t write for men, and i never have. i’ve never seen why i would, considering that i’m a lesbian. i also never have seen why they would want to read my fics, seeing as they’re not the target audience.

my mentality when i see most female character x male reader fics is neutral. it’s not for me, why would i care? if men want to have their own spaces in the community, good for them, it doesn’t affect me. if they’re not writing about canon, confirmed lesbians, it really doesn’t matter. as much as i headcanon characters, everyone has their own headcanons as well. and most of all, these characters aren’t real. if lgbt representation isn’t being taken and it’s not something illegal being written about, why does it matter? do people not have lives outside of tumblr?

in my opinion, misandry doesn’t exist and never will. misogyny kills women, while misandry hurts men’s feelings at worst. in just the us, women were not granted no-fault divorce or the right to have a bank account in their own name until less than 100 years ago. women are having their reproductive rights threatened to this day. several countries are facing femicides- spain, turkey, and greece to name a few. women fear for their lives when driving, when walking after dark, when in the workplace. women are excluded from industries that have anything to do with STEM, along with many others.

not to mention the transmisogyny many of the men attacking writers have spewed. trans women, especially black trans women are one of the most threatened groups. trans women ARE women, point blank period. someone writing a character as trans does not cancel out the fact that they’re still a woman.

i purposely chose to attend a women’s college so that i wouldn’t have to fear for my safety when walking around campus or to my residence hall. that wasn’t the only reason, but it was a major factor. i’m constantly paranoid when i’m in an uber. i’m afraid to say no to men when flirted with in fear that they’ll act violently.

to reiterate: misandry does not exist. this is fanfiction, and if you’re so upset that the majority of arcane x reader fics are wlw, you’re more than welcome to write your own and make your own spaces, just like we have. but calling us delusional and throwing slurs will only make us want to include you less.

this is the last thing i’ll say about it. thanks for reading and to my women, don’t let this discourage you from being active in the community and putting out your work. 🖤

[starlightkyeom]

a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off. 

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds. 

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred. 

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends. 

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say. 

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?” 

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth. 

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask. 

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow. 

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it. 

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.” 

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say. 

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?” 

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face. 

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under. 

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?” 

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes. 

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him. 

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak. 

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.” 

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not. 

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now. 

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore. 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says. 

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?” 

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.” 

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments. 

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns. 

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this. 

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it. 

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees. 

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want. 

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you. 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?” 

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.” 

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?” 

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?” 

“Would it matter if I said no?” 

“Of course it would.” 

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.” 

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well. 

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person. 

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.” 

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?” 

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.” 

“I get that,” he says. 

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.” 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits. 

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart. 

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned. 

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.” 

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide. 

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug. 

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all. 

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized. 

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream. 

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace. 

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen. 

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it. 

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you. 

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask. 

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows. 

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.” 

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake. 

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?” 

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.” 

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.” 

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out. 

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer. 

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?” 

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you. 

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching. 

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be. 

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.” 

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. 

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out. 

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication. 

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” 

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you. 

“I think I want it all,” you whisper. 

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks. 

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady. 

“I do.” 

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into. 

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly. 

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.” 

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable. 

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down. 

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.” 

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed. 

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time. 

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees. 

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need. 

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!” 

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager. 

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says. 

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing. 

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit. 

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says. 

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.” 

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over. 

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you. 

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out. 

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again. 

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.” 

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you. 

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.” 

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles. 

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.” 

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits. 

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft. 

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.” 

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start. 

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say. 

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.” 

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him. 

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off. 

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry. 

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you. 

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out. 

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs. 

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out. 

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side. 

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree. 

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair. 

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer. 

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response. 

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse. 

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed. 

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away. 

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room. 

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box. 

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look. 

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.” 

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him. 

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things. 

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle. 

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling. 

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine. 

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table. 

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over. 

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though. 

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…” 

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine. 

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words. 

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.” 

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” 

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree. 

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too. 

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.” 

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows. 

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper. 

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

[missmarveledsblog]

Odd one out ( logan howlett x reader)

summary : logan's adjusting to new life , new friends only thing he can't put his finger on is wade's friend Y/n , he knows she hiding something and he right but he is so wrong too

warnings : fluffy , goofy , no major deadpool and wolverine spoilers , violence , wade wilson , grumpy logan , grammatical errors (sorry in advance )

Adjusting  to a whole new world , universe where everything was the same but different .  Knowing someone and yet learning to know them all over again , like he was re familiarizing himself with ghosts from his past in one place and creating a new future in another. Adjusting to the one fucker who had him here in the first place was hard too , wade wilson was a strange one , hard to tell where the smart sarcastic ball of undiagnosed ADHD  started and ended . yet he had this wonderful and strange group of people around him , they all stuck out and fit in somehow , not that he would admit it out loud ever . (“ i knew it he loves me!” wade wink to the reader) .  but the dickward (“ harsh” the merc gasped.)  well he grew on him.  He wasn’t too bad not all the time those few seconds of silence truly when logan howlett  actually would consider him a friend then his mouth started it usually nonsensical rambles and well he changed his mind again . 

The friends he didn’t mind being around the lot they all had their own quirks , their own little nicknames or insults for wade and they all took logan in no matter what even when wade explain their whole adventure even the dark past that followed logan around even to this day . one friend he couldn’t get a read on , one for some reason stood out more than the others was Y/N  or as wade tended to call her princess sparkle maybe it had to do with the midnight black glitter case she had her laptop in . the other made sense in a way all either mutants or coming from some sort of background, but well Y/N was different . apparently, when she was a kid she used to drink her apple juice while sitting in the corner of the notorious sister margarets helping mercs of all kinds find their targets for a fee of course . Her bond with wade was helping him locate some chick or atleast logan was sure it was giving francis was the name but in that whole thing she was the one that helped wade find them all using that laptop ln the black sparkle case . Giving she was youngster of the group and just well ordinary no powers the others we’re protective but something about her well logan couldn’t put his finger on it and it was driving him nuts what was her secret .  

“ you know if you keep staring at her peanut well your going to give off a certain i got candy and white van sort of vibe” logan could feel wade once again too close giving the asshole breathe was in his ear . 

“ it’s not like that , she hiding something i mean she not so social , closed off a little and well she barely talks about herself” logan scoffed yet his eyes never once left her form . 

“ ok baby girl you probably know this phrase given you're so old you were there when they invented it but pot meet kettle”  the merc gestured between the two . “ he is butt nuts into her it’s so obvious right?” he looked to the reader . 

“ who are tal… nevermind i am not into her i don’t trust here plus she too young for me” he rationalized . 

“ she’s an old soul i mean not american civil war old but get what i’m throwing down” wade winked .

 “ hey i’m heading out i wanna grab books and coffee before the shop closes” she called rushing out before anyone could offer to walk with her. Logan didn’t even say anything just followed after.

“ he totally wants her right” wades looking at you reader. 

“ wade who you taking to?” 

“ the… nevermind hey did i ever tell you  about my future prince , king god of thunder buddy thor” he asked heading toward his friend . 

………

She hated it , lying to her friends not telling them she wasn’t as smart as they thought she was or how the sight of wades new roommate topless made her brain not function therefore caused her life to be now in danger. She been looking into her past , more so the men who had left her with no childhood nor a family resulting her sneaking into a seedy bar and helping hitmen and vigilantes find their targets .  she wanted to make sure they weren’t still doing it and when she began to see multiple account of money she could use to well give back to the world well she got herself caught. She wanted to tell wade but she didn’t want to bother him too much it wasn’t even a year after his whole TVA  incident and well saving the world so she decided she could handle it alone which that wasn’t the lie , she totally could it was just dealing with it in silence. Plus giving the said hot roommate hatred for her , she didn’t want to give that man any more ammo against her. It was a mystery to why he hated her so much , at first she thought maybe he knew a version of her in his universe that done him dirty but he was quite easily able to tell her she wasn’t anything thing to him , he didn’t know her there which was only good part of that place. Thankfully she grew up the way she did or else it would of hurt a lot more than it did , ok it still stung but she got used to it . she love their group like a family so instead of being interrogated or scared away by logan she avoided him kept her space from the man , ignore how he looked like he was going to rip her apart and not in the 50 shades of gray more like national geographic lions and a giselle sort of way . 

She was so lost in her thought she didn’t notice logan following her or the group of agent sprawled out ready to pounce. Scanning the shelves for the next read she felt the metal barrel pushing at her side . 

“Act natural or else” the voice smiled so she did she couldn’t cause a scene or react too many civilians and a lot of them were children.

She shrugged and let the man follow at her side as she stood at the counter pulling out the metal reusable cup . 

“ the regular you know three pumps of caramel” she winked . “ oh this is my cousin franny” she smiled as the man looked at her before smiling to the barista . 

“ oh free book today with each coffee so enjoy”  the barista smiled handing her the scalding cup but she bit her tongue and kept walking “ somebody call wade” she whispered back at the staff. 

Logan stood grinning , he  had his moment of being right seeing her all smiles with a clearly shady prick , he was about to confront her for his big gotcha moment only he stalled when he heard them as if they were saying it to him . 

“ in position we got her , subject will be brought back to containment “ that threw him off well that was til she walked out with the man throwing the coffee she had  in his face and a gun he didn’t notice before falling to the ground as she told the civilians to get somewhere safe. First time in his life or a decade he stood shocked at scene before him . agent clearly not the good guys with this octopus looking things on their tactical gear rushing towards her.  One man went to grab her only for him to fall to the ground convulsing and yet  logan couldn’t see the taser she clearly had to off used .  his jaw dropped as her skin began to glow almost a whitish blue all over her body and what looked like sparks floating around her. Not once did she looked scared or even phased  at the situation , she took them on one by one almost like a dance in her movement as she sent them to the ground . when they did get a hit on her like the mere touch sent them to the ground convulsing . he honestly stood conflicted he knew he was way off but also who the hell was this girl really . he wanted to help but she didn’t need it even when they ganged up on her she  held her own . when last man  fell she returned back to normal  skin back to color , the sparks disappeared like a mist and she leaned over slightly panting . 

“ call the authorities tell them to get shield here or fbi” she stood only for one to sneak out and hit her head hard sending her to the ground unconscious . thats when he snapped into action how dare that man touch her like that , what a cheap shot too  logan knocked man out ignoring the lady who yelled she called the cops and he brought her back to wades. 

The moment he walked into the apartment with her in his arms out cold the room went silent .  he growled at  shatterstar and colossus making them instantly move from the couch as he placed her gently on it.  Vanessa ran to check her over as logan explained what  happened . 

“ she was fucking glowing like a night light or some shit …. You don’t look surprised so you already knew , why did no one tell me ” he looked to see not one of them looked shocked to know she was a mutant. they all nodded giving him a sympathetic smile.

“ why do you think i call her princess sparkles , the coffee place rang” wade called heading to his room before returning . “ you saving her ass like a knight in tight yellow spandex , i knew you liked her kitten” he winked as he placed the adventure time comforter over her sleeping form .