#do you just stop at night in this game and stare at the sky?

[ghouldtime]

Ghost'ed

Been thinking about literal Ghost! Ghost. Maybe it's playing too many ghost hunting games or watching too many shows but I cannot stop thinking about it. You also cannot convince me this man wouldn't be a restless spirit. His entire life is troubled and I don't see him going down in a peaceful way or leaving until he feels the job is done - and likely ending up trapped as a result

I wrote this at work so sorry in advance for any typos or slip ups!

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Ghost hunting wasn’t exactly what most people would list in "Top ten relaxing hobbies" - but it's not like you were most people. You were simply you. The same you who thought spending your time speculating about spooky specters was one of the best ways to pass by those few stretches of free time that could be all too fleeting in the hellscape known as adulthood.

The stares that followed you when you announced paranormal investigation as a hobby was something you knew all too well. After all, telling someone you’re a ghost hunter only stood as a slightly more socially acceptable version of telling them you believed in bigfoot (you did, but that’s beside the point). The dozens of cheesy TV shows certainly popularized it but they did little to help with the perception of it.

When the face of popular ghost hunting media was full of grown men who screamed like a squirrel high on helium at every little thump of a house settling, it did little to help what people automatically thought of when they heard of your unique hobby. Plenty still turned their noses up, scoffed slightly as they rolled their eyes and sneered, “Aren’t you too old to be doing that?” 

Or worse. They gave a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and crinkled their eyes as they said, "Oh, interesting." While the tension in their body told of holding back laughter or wanting to bolt right on out of there, far far away from you.

Quite frankly, you didn't care what they said anymore as it was your life to live, not theirs. You’d seen enough to know without a fraction of a doubt that there was more beyond the veil of life itself, hiding just out of sight. The hundreds of hours you spent wandering dark hallways and dilapidated ruins with nothing but your flashlight and ghost box proved otherwise. At least it proved it to you.

Proving it to others was a horse of another color. Skeptics who spit their criticism loud enough to deafen even the most positive prevalent of voices in the community were a dime a dozen. Unfortunately, their existence was as certain as the sky is blue. Skepticism was apart of human nature, after all. They would always exist as long as the day and night kept up their eternal dance.

Convincing them was a fruitless effort. You'd sooner be able to convince hippos to fly than you'd convince them of the truth you knew. Trying to get everyone to agree, to acknowledge the paranormal, was hopeless and something you certainly weren't going to waste your life on no matter what they called your or what they said.

As far as you were concerned, being paid to sit in the dark alone and find evidence of life beyond the grimy waters of death itself was a pretty sweet gig. The naysayers could seethe in their own jealousy all they wanted because at the end of the day, you’re getting paid to do what you love. That they never could take away from you.

They'd never be able to have the same thrill that you did as you took on another case, ready to see even more of what the phantasmal realm had to offer.

Anticipation, nervousness, and excitement rolled together in a palpable energy you hid beneath a calmer exterior every time you took a job. There always would be that wonder there, the question of what exactly you might find dangling just out of reach, the hope that maybe, just maybe you might see even more than you already have. Another chance to investigate meant yet another night spent lurking in the shadows, tirelessly trying to find more evidence of the great world beyond the grave and its inhabitants. Tonight certainly would be no different.

An older couple quite reluctantly booked an appointment for a standard investigation after mysterious things that they really could not explain, no matter how they went about it, happened time and time again. They'd tried to ignore it, they said, but it only got worse.

Footsteps that echoed through the house at first in a gentle patter had become confident strides. When they went to look, no one was there. Doors that used to slowly creak open, as if blown by the wind, instead started to rattle the frame with force as they opened or slammed in the middle of the night. The husband looked particularly miffed when he groused about the TV going on at odd hours of the night, while his wife seemed more concerned about the possibility of someone having broken in and the fact that it kept doubling in intensity as time went on. The list went on and on about their complaints ranging from things being moved around to always finding a light turned on in a room in the middle of the night. There most certainly was something going on if all of what they were saying was true.

The glaring parade of red flags that easily would send others running for the hills lured you in. Like a dog with a scent, you weren't going to drop the trail, oh no. You were there to sink your teeth and claws in and not let go. Come hell, heaven, or high water - nothing would stopping you.

True to your title, you were a paranormal investigator which warranted a lot more work and professionalism than the standard ghost hunters you saw on TV who couldn't tell the difference between a gust of wind and a ghost. Your job was to research, conduct a proper paranormal investigation, and provide your evidence - or lack of, if it was truly devoid of haunting. But here hardly sounded like it.

Taking your time and reassuring them that you were, indeed, a professional, you went over all the usual questions with them: when did this start, how old is your house, any history of deaths in it, have you acquired any new items recently, do you have any items that were second hand or antique, any family heirlooms in the house, was it in any particular location, etc etc.

Every angle had to be considered, especially the mundane. Plenty of times, people just had a poorly constructed house, deeply held superstitions, and a touch of paranoia to make for a perfect combination of nothing happening at all. That didn’t seem to be the case here, however. While none of their answers pointed in a clear direction of what it might be, it still all pointed to signs of something unworldly happening. But that's what you were there for. To determine if there actually was a ghost, why it was there, and maybe who it was (if things went well and it felt like cooperating). 

You bid them a good night as they headed off with family friends in a beat up convertible, chattering away without a care in the world as if they didn’t have a paranormal parasite problem. At least they were going to go enjoy their night by having an evening out instead of breathing down your neck like some of those who hired you. Locking the door, you trudged in with your gear and began the initial inspection with practiced ease.

A haunting in a house as young and modern as theirs was quite unusual. Open, airy rooms completed with white, sleek, almost eye-hurtingly clean interiors made up the entirety of the house. Even as night crawled higher and higher into the sky, pulling its dark cloak over the land, the house stayed bright. Nothing about it said haunted or caught your eye. The scariest thing there was likely the heating bill. 

As far as your research showed, there hadn't been a death in it or on the land. The owners also seemed quite appalled at the idea of antiques (go figure) so that went right out the window, too. Normally there might be some stashed somewhere that they weren't thinking about, like the attic, but this house didn’t even have that. No basement, no attic, no creepy graveyard in the back; it was a normal, suburban house that shouldn’t have anything going on.

Perusing the house at a leisurely pace, you browsed each and every room with a thorough consciousness of finding something, anything, that could possibly have started it. Yet you turned up empty handed. Everything was as pure and alabaster as the marble countertops and the expensive sleek metal furniture. 

Oh well, not every job would be easy. And not every haunted house was obligated to look run-down and rustic. Some ghosts just had more upper class tastes - or were unfortunate enough to be stuck in an eyesore like this. Maybe a ghost would add some actual personality to their home...

Seeing as they'd said there wasn't exactly a rhyme or reason as to where things would happen, you decided a central room was your best bet. The living room was open enough for everything and an easy place any spirits could find. It had plenty of room for your equipment and the open layout meant you had a great vantage point for the whole house.

Preparing your gear came as naturally as breathing to you, the tasks you've done dozens of times over were a matter of habit. Moving through the motions was your second nature as you worked, not batting an eye as you checked batteries and strategically stationed your gear. It only took a matter of minutes to have your cameras, light system, motion activated interactable objects, ghost box, and the rest of your fancy gadgets set up all around the room.

Placed on the coffee table was your heaviest piece of equipment - your modified spirit box that you had made some special adjustments to just to make sure your results were as accurate as possible. The broken antenna and attached amp weren't standard, nor were the noise reducers, but they stood as a testament to why you were a professional and why you kept getting called out to different places. You knew how to get results and tuned every tiny thing to your needs. There was no room for error or doubt alike in an already uncertain field.

Double checking everything was ready to go once more once more, you plunged the room into somewhat true darkness as you drew the curtains shut and pressed the button on the spirit box, causing it to crackle to life. Speeding through the static of radio stations, it scanned the many frequencies in a blur, far too fast for any natural noise to come through. The whirring of it evened out into a constant, muffled background noise that you’d spent countless hours listening to. Its familiar hum lulled you into a relaxed state, your heart as steady as your calm breaths despite the slight buzz of familiar adrenaline you always felt when you first started. A small beep signaled the successful activation of the digital thermometer as you walked around in a slow, even pace, checking all around. 

Taking a deep breath, you began as you always had. In a confident, but even tone you called out, “Is there anyone with me right now?”

....

........

Silence.

The static of the spirit box continued to filter through in its usual constant churning hum of white noise. Typical. Many supernatural beings wouldn't want to interact, especially not at first. You don't blame them. If a stranger barged into your house and demanded if you were there, pestering you with questions as threw their belongings around, you'd not want to answer them either. That wasn’t even considering that many were so unused to people hearing them or trying to talk to them, not at them. They didn't exactly register on the same frequency that humans did most of the time.

Walking around the room, your boots echoed on the tile flooring. Your footsteps ricocheted off of the high ceilings, amplified by the lofty ceiling and wonderful acoustics this house apparently had. Keeping your attention ever shifting, you kept alert for signs of anything happening. Looking too long in the dark and expecting things to happen would only yield false results and cause paranoia. You knew far better than to do that. 

Nothing lit up, nothing beeped, nothing changed. There was conclusively nothing happening for the first few, long minutes as everything kept at an unwavering constant. Visiting each room, you rechecked their temperatures and tried to find anything amiss or out of place. Yet all seemed well, still, and normal.

Only when you crossed the hallway back into the living room after a quick visit to the bedrooms did your hair stand on end. A chill ran down your spine, the once warm air now holding the barest bite of cold on the edge. Holding up the thermometer, you narrowed your eyes at the steady decrease. While it wasn't quite freezing, it kept dropping and dropping. Numbers ticked lower and lower, your hair stood further on end as a small shiver ran through you as the chill dipped lower and lower. Bingo. First sign of activity of the night. It wasn’t much but it was plenty to know that something was happening here.

Despite the crisp chill, nothing else shifted in the room. Silence prevailed behind the distant drone of your equipment; mainly the comforting, steady typical static of the spirit box. Even the appliances seemed to have gone quiet, exchanging their usual low thrumming rhythm for a break that suspended them in a noiseless limbo.

Your shifting movements echoed far louder than you would have liked as you paced around the room, looking for something new, anything. An actual tangible reaction you could record would be just what you needed but so far, the haunt was holding out.  “What is your name?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as you can as you tried to switch it up. 

Continual feedback from the spirit box sounded as steady as can be. Still, there was no voice trying to get through it. The fabricated noise reigned supreme as it did its job, whirring away. Pressing your lips into a thin line, the smallest hint of a frown tugged at your lips as disappointment flickered through you. Okay, that's fine. It usually took a few tries anyways. 

A faint, sparkling crackle escaped from it as you heard one, tiny word in a rumbling timbre. One, single word that halted you mid step, your head snapping towards the machine. 

“Ghost.”

Doing a double take, a grin split across your face as your heart jumped with joy. A response! A true, actual response. Not that it exactly answered your question but it meant something was listening.

There was something here!

Nearly tripping over your own feet, you scampered over to your beloved machine. Your eyes fixated on the glowing orange screen, gleaming with glee. 

“W-what’s your name?” You repeat a bit louder unable to hide the excited tremble in your voice or hands, figuring the ghost likely didn't hear you right. 

Static white noise continued for a few seconds, the little x in the corner flashed once, twice, before it lit up solidly. 

“Ghost.”

The smile you held dropped only for a fraction of a second before you cleared your throat. Well, maybe your slight stutter and excitement got in the way. You did talk fast when excited, after all. Taking a deep breath, undeterred as can be, you repeated in a far steadier voice, “What is your name?”

This time you made sure to enunciate every single syllable, speaking clear and confidently into the air. 

One flashing X glowed in the corner of the screen. Another flash. A third. Fourth. Fifth.

Yet again, the deep voice came a bit louder and rougher this time. A thick Mancunian accent that barely picked up through the filter didn't dull the single word you were trying to avoid, “Ghost.”

Okay. Your brows furrowed deeper, your nose wrinkling slightly as your heart sank. The minor disappointment couldn't be kept off of your face as you really had hoped to hear something else. Approach one clearly isn't working. 

Maybe he didn't speak English. Or maybe he wasn't sure that he was dead. Whatever. There was a ghost and he was answering, that's what mattered, you reminded yourself forcefully until the smile came back to your face and the smallest bit of a headache dissipated. Focus on that. Not on the slight annoyance you felt and the agitated twitch of your fingers.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Your grip retightened on your flashlight as you racked through questions in your mind, trying to find something that it would have to answer differently too. 

“Can you do something?”

Hopeful, your eyes trailed around the room, praying that maybe the ghost would do something like interact with the many objects scattered about, or even the motion sensors. 

Nothing happened for a few long moments, silence once again prevailing in the otherwise empty house.

Orange light flashed from the spirit box as the X lit up again, only for a second before the dreaded word repeated itself. 

“Ghost.”

Before you could ask what that even meant, or curse it out for that matter, the spirit box and your flashlight shut off, plunging you into true darkness. The flashlight nearly flew from your hands in surprise as you flinched instinctually, your heart leaping into your throat. Frantically flickering the button of your trusty tool did nothing as you desperately tried to turn on your one source of light with the only way you knew how - only to be met with the continual sight of empty, non-shining bulbs. 

Curses spilled from your lips in all the languages you knew as you fumbled for a battery pack, only to find them missing. What? But you swore that they were right there -- ugh, nevermind. This just wasn't going to be your night.

The initial panic subsided as the chill left the air, the residual regular warmth of the house sinking into the room as if blown in by a lazy breeze. Your hair still stood on end as you walked around with cautious, hesitant steps, having given up on the flashlight. There wasn't coming back from that.

It's only when you approached the spirit box, trying to turn it on to no avail, that you realized what he meant. You asked him to do something and he obliged.

He ghosted you. 

God fucking damn it. 

As you glared at the air in frustration, threw your hands up and personally cursed the fiend, you could've sworn you heard a resonating chuckle behind you as breath brushed against the nape of your neck in a way that sent shivers down your spine for a whole new reason.

[pinkponyclubbb3]

my kink is karma

summary: y/n just moved in next door, and she’s having trouble sleeping because her neighbors keep yelling till late at night. (they’re Twitch streaming) y/n gets back at them to show them how annoying it is.

warnings: cursing, smoking, female masturbation, use of sex toys. female oral receiving

“You fucking idiot!” I sit up from my bed with my hand over my heart. “What the fuck?” I accidentally wake up my dog. I look for my phone on my nightstand but knock everything down until I reach it. 2:47am. I sigh out loud, the noise hasn’t stopped. “Fuck this.” I get up and put on my shoes.

I step outside and the wind blows in my direction. Goosebumps immediately cover my arms. I should’ve brought a jacket. I quickly walk next door and when I get to their front door I don’t hesitate to knock. I hug myself in attempt to warm up. Finally I hear footsteps and the locks unlock. I yawn and the man opens the door. “Yes?” the man looks annoyed. When my vision clears up I start regretting my outfit choice.

He has dark hair and blue eyes, wearing a white wife-beater shirt and plaid pajama pants. He looks me up and down. I’m wearing Spongebob boxers and a black tank top. “Not sure if you own a clock, but it’s 2 in the morning, and you’re yelling.” He cocks his head to the side. “And I’m not sure if you know, but this is my house.” He fakes, smiles, crosses his arms, and leans on the door frame.

“You know some of us have a real job and can’t stay up all night playing video games.” I hate how attractive he is. “I get paid while I play video games. Sorry, your job isn’t as interesting.” I scoff annoyed at the conversation. “Okay this isn’t getting us anywhere. Can you and whoever lives here stop being so fucking loud? Thanks.” I fake a smile and pat his shoulder. I turn on my heel and walk away before he gets the chance to say anything

I yawn as I go to turn the knob and realize… it’s locked. No fucking way. I kick my door out of frustration. “Fuck!” I stare at the sky, contemplating what to do. I decide to walk to the side of my house to see if I can get my window open. The noise gets louder, and I pray the guy doesn’t notice me. I peak my head to their window to get a better view and I see two other guys that look like the guy who opened the door. “Triplets. Fuck they’re multiplying.” I roll my eyes and sigh. I turn to my window and try to lift it up.

“Shit!” I yell when I realize my acrylics won’t let me open it. I debate, knocking on their window. Fuck it, they woke me up. I turn to face their house and knock loudly on their window. I scare the three of them. Two of them looked at each other, scared of a stranger at their window at 3:00 am. The guy I talked to earlier threw his head back and went to open the window. “Matt, don’t open the fucking window!” I roll my eyes impatiently, waiting. “Stalking us now?”

I give him a mocking smile. “Funny. Anyways, can you open my window? I got locked out. and I can’t slide it open with these nails.” I flip him off with both hands to show him. “Is this who was knocking earlier?” I take a deep breath clearly frustrated and nod.

“No. Chris shut the window.” I look at him in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have had to ask you if you just shut the fuck up!” Matt reaches over to shut the window. I just stare at the three of them blankly. When I realize no one is going to help me, I feel a lump in my throat start forming. “You’re all cunts!” I walk away before they see the tears forming in my eyes. “Look who’s yelling now.” It takes all my strength to stop myself from turning around and smashing their window with a rock.

I walk to my car, and thankfully, I have my spare hidden in a plant. I need to keep a house key hidden, I give myself a mental note. I open the car and get in the front seat. I don’t have my phone, so I look for something to entertain me. I look in my center console and see some half-eaten chips, and as I dig further, I see my pen. “Fuck yeah!” I say to myself. I take a hit, and let it sit in my throat. I put the key into the ignition so I could use the radio. I adjust the volume so it’s not too loud but just enough to fill the silence.

I open my sunroof and lay my seat back. I start eating my stale chips when the drug starts hitting me. I feel so relaxed my mind is not overwhelmed with thoughts about the fucking Alvin and the chipmunks living next door. I close my eyes and let myself listen to the music. I start humming along and moving my head to the beat. I take another hit and blow it out towards the sunroof. “How many hits do you need? Jesus.”

I jump out of my seat and drop my pen between my seat. “Motherfucker! What is your problem?” I let out a breath. I didn’t know I was holding. I lower my window so I can hear him. “I wasn’t gonna let you sleep outside.” I lay back in my chair and stare at him. “You’re annoying.” I see him reach inside and unlock the passenger seat door. I would protest since I just met him, and its also 3:00 am, but he’s so hot, and I can’t lie and say I’m not horny right now. Drugs are bad for me I get really turned on. Now I remember why I kept this in the car and not my room. I turn to the boy whose name I now know is Matt.

“Can I take a hit?” I go to hand it to him but realize I dropped it when he scared me. “Where your phone? I need the flash.” He hands me his phone and watches me closely and I exit the car and bend towards the center console to try to reach for it. I bend down more and hear Matt laugh. “What?” I ask him with annoyance on my face. “You’re flashing me.” He says bluntly. I look down and see my tank top is hanging low. Motherfucker.

“Like what you see?” I look at him. He bites his lip and nods. I pick up the pen and hand it to him. He takes a long drag while I settle back in my seat. “You know those SpongeBob boxers are really doing something to me.” I hit his shoulder. “Shut up.” I laugh. “Can you open my window,please?” I look at him with my tired eyes. “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

“How can I ever repay you?” I say sarcastically while we slam my car doors. We walk towards my window and I get an idea. “I can think of a few ways.” He says. I turn to him and he’s towering over me. “Yeah? And what’s that?” He tilts my chin up with one hand and grabs my waist with the other. “Let me show you.” His lips crash into mine, I wrap my arms around his neck. “What’s your name?”

“y/n” I press my lips on his again. I feel his hand play with the waistband of the boxers. I shut my eyes tightly trying not to cringe at my outfit. His fingers reach my heat and he slides a finger feeling how wet I am. “Please touch me.” I feel his hand grip my thigh from the inside of my underwear. When he takes his hand out he places it right on my heat over my clothes. I start grinding my hips on his palm trying to get any sort of release. “So fucking needy.” My eyes roll back in pleasure when he presses on my clit with his thumb. He starts using it to circle my clit “O-oh fuck,Matt”

He stops his movements and gets on his knees. He looks up at me. “Can I take these off?” I desperately nod yes. “Excuse me, Patrick.” I hit his head playfully. “Shut the fuck up.” he laughs and pulls down the boxers. He wastes no time placing his mouth on me. I throw my head back and moan his name. “F-fuck Matt just like that.” I grab his hair burying his face in me. Pornographic moans are leaving my mouth. “Fuck you taste so good.” He starts finger fucking me, and my legs start shaking. He uses his middle and ring finger to fuck me while his tongue is circling and sucking on my clit.

“I can feel you clenching around me. Are you close, sweetheart?” I nod my head, whimpering a yes. “Such a fucking slut. Letting me eat you in front of my brother's window.” My eyes widen. “I thought that was yours-fuck!” He sucks on my clit making me closer to my orgasm.

“Wanna cum?” I nod my head repeatedly. “So bad.” I feel the knot in my stomach. “Cum for me, baby.” I release all over his tongue. I subconsciously grind my hips on his mouth, riding out my orgasm. “Fuck Matt!” He pulls my boxers back up and wipes his mouth. “Wanna finish this inside.” He moves me out the way to slide open my window. He helps me climb inside and once i’m in my room I shut the window. “What the fuck?”

“Goodnight Matt.” I smile and wave at him. I lay on my bed and drift off to sleep.

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I’m finally back from work. I sigh out of frustration; it was just a bad day. Not to mention, I barely slept last night. I open my fridge to pour myself a drink. I look down and see my dog waiting for me to give him food. “This is my food. Your food is over there, babe.” I point straight ahead to show him his food bowl. I give in and get him a piece of chicken that I never finished. “Sit.” He stares at the chicken. “Roll over. Do something.” I give up and feed him the piece of chicken. “I can’t blame you. It’s not like I speak dog. How do I expect you to know what I’m saying.” I bend down to pet him, but he barks at me. “Hey! Don’t bark at me. Fat ass, I was trying to pet you, not steal your food.” I leave him be and head to my room.

I strip and change to an oversized shirt. I throw my clothes into my laundry bin and lie down. I turned on my TV to play some music to get my mind off how bad of a day I was having. I put it at a low volume to not intensify my headache. I close my eyes and memories of last night flood my mind. My hand starts roaming my body. I touch my inner thighs feeling wetness pool between my legs. Not giving myself the attention I need so I don’t make this feeling go away so quickly.

‘Such a fucking slut’ the moment replays in my head. I open my eyes and look through my drawer pulling out my pink vibrator. I turn it on to the second setting to start off. I tease myself by putting it everywhere but the place where I need the most attention. I feel my nipples harden at the contact. A moan slips from my mouth. I move my panties to the side to feel how wet i’m getting.

I start moving my vibrator close to my clit to release some tension, but before I can, the yelling and screaming start again. No fucking way. I should be the one screaming. I turn off my vibrator and go up to my window. I see the boys around two computers with controllers in their hands. One of the boys starts dancing around and pulls out a harmonica. The fuck? Where did he get a harmonica from? I grab my pillow and scream into it.

When I look closer, I see that their window is cracked open. It must’ve been when Matt shut it last night. An idea pops into my mind. I used the palms of my hands to slide open my window when it hit me. Why didn’t I use my palms to slide the window open yesterday? I go to my closet and pull out a medium sized speaker and a microphone. I turn on the speaker and connect the microphone. When I catch them not paying attention I leave my window and put the speaker right next to theirs. I go through my front door and run to my room so they won’t catch me.

I wait for the perfect opportunity to start being obnoxious. “Oh fuck! Yes that feels so good!” I start fake moaning into the mic. I kneel down so they won’t see me but I have a view of them. The three of them cough loudly trying to cover it up. I found out they were live streaming. So they can’t just cut this out of a video. “Deeper! I need your cock buried deep inside me!” I obnoxiously moan. I turn off the microphone to laugh. I cover my mouth so they won’t hear me.

I see the one that was playing the harmonica reach towards the mic. Before he can mute it I start again. “Harder! Fuck just like that!” I make pornographic nosies. I accidentally laugh into the mic. “Fuck!” I whisper yell to myself. “Nick close the window!” I hear Matt say. “I’ll be back.”

“Fuck. fuck. fuck.” I take off my shirt, leaving me in just my lace bra and panties. I throw on a satin robe and mess my hair up to make it look like I was having sex. I hear a loud knock on the door. I smear my lipstick before I open the door. “What?” I ask, fake annoyed. “Can you be fucking quiet? We’re doing a stream. Twelve thousand people just heard you going at it.” I bite back my smile. “Was my screaming obnoxious? Was I being too loud? I’m not sure if you know, but this is my house.” I see the look of annoyance in his eyes when he realizes i’m using his own words against him.

“You’re gonna get our stream taken down. Can you just stop being so loud?” I can see him getting angry. “Good maybe you’ll stop screaming until 4 in the morning.” I hear a loud crash from my bedroom. I run to my room and see my speaker is in a million pieces. “What the fuck!” Chris is climbing back into his room. Nick starts playing his harmonica again.

“I’m gonna shove that harmonica down your throat.” He peeks his head out the window. “What are you mad cause we interrupted you getting something down your throat?” I flip him off and close my window. I turn around and Matt is standing in front of me. “Were you just faking all that?”

“yes I was trying to masturbate but you guys wanted to have a fucking screaming contest!” I fall back into my bed. “Let me help you get your frustration out.” He steps closer. “You have twelve thousand people waiting for you on a stream.” he shrugs his shoulders. “Let me show you how sorry I am for interrupting.” He says as he looks at my almost naked body.

I slowly nod. He kneels down and throws my legs over his shoulder “I’m.so.so.so.sorry.” he says while he kisses my inner thighs. I move my hips around impatiently. He grabs my hips holding me still. He moves my underwear to the side and licks my folds. “Fuck” I whisper while I throw my head back. “Mmm so fucking sweet.” he flicks his tongue up and down my clit. My breath hitches when I feel him suck. His hand starts roaming up my body until he’s groping my left tit. His thumb grazes over my nipple.

He squeezes my boob tight as if he’s using it as a handle. He takes his hand away and pushes his fingers against my mouth. “Open.” he demands. I open my mouth and he shoves his middle and ring finger down my throat. When he hears me gag he takes them out just to shove them back in. When he feels his fingers wet he brings them down to my cunt. “Look at me.” I sit my self up with my elbows and look at him. The second I make eye contact he inserts his fingers inside me. “Fuck!” I throw my head back. “Look at me,y/n.” I try my hardest to keep eye contact. He places his mouth back on my clit.

I can feel his facial rub against me. “I’m close, Matt.” He smiles against me while he starts sucking harder. I feel him bite down, but not enough to hurt me. “Matt, I’m gonna-”

“I know baby, cum for me let me taste all of you.” I release all over his mouth. I grip the sheets so hard my knuckles are turning white.”Jesus fucking christ-” He helps me ride out my orgasm. When he gets up he takes his fingers and shoves them into my mouth again. “Taste how sweet you are.” I circle my tongue on his fingers tasting myself on him.

I hear something being thrown at my window. “Matthew!” He takes his fingers out and turns to my window. His brothers are signaling him to come to their room. “Gotta go. Hope that satisfied you enough to stop moaning so loud that my fans can hear.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

A/n: Thank you so so much for reading !

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[ff-killjam]

How The Tables Turned [Ford x reader oneshot]

Summary: This time, its Ford making you stop what you're going to make sure you get sleep.

Rating: SFW and very fluffy

Warnings: Aside from a slightly suggestive part, none!

AO3 version

A/N: Actually based on a period of time where I tried to learn how to use unity (before the whole drama of it happened). I refused to do ANYTHING but to work on my little project no matter how much I was starving for a few weeks straight. lol.

It’s basically routine at this point for you to drag Ford out of his lab to head for bed. Even if you remind him of the benefits on sleeping and how the lack of it will impact his work, you still needed to get him into bed, sometimes having some food ready for him to make sure he didn’t sleep on an empty stomach.

That’s how its USUALLY IS.

Lately, you’ve started your own personal project involving learning a game engine to play around with. It was mostly just a random idea one day, wanting to try your hand at making your own little “video game”. Nothing too fancy, just something fun to put together and to learn some new skills along the way. There was A LOT you needed to look into and learn to make this happen, however.

From learning a coding language, the game engine itself, a mix between finding free to use assets and even making your own when nothing suited your taste- you had a lot on your plate. It wasn’t all that bad really, considering how this whole thing turned into a full blown hyper fixation fairly soon after starting it. It was easy to let the hours fly by as you were split between watching tutorial videos, drawing and fixing any errors/bugs in any of the codes you wrote down. You were aware of when you needed to sleep, eat and do other things for your health, but something about working on this project made you refuse to move from your chair. And you weren’t the only one to noticed this.

After a decent amount of time being with you, Ford has grown used to the routine of you coming to his lab to check up on him. It got to the point where he purposely stayed late in the lab to get you to come in and “pester” him to take care of himself better. The feeling of knowing you cared and loved him so much to go out of your way to make sure he knew that was something he relished in. Of course, he did felt a little “silly” and “immature” doing this instead of straight up telling you, but there was no harm being done anyways, so it was fine.

So when you stopped checking on him after a few nights, he couldn’t help but to worry a bit. At first, he figured you were just a bit busy, possibly even out for the night, so he didn’t think too much of it. However, when walking into your computer room and seeing you up staring at your screen with an open notebook with various random things written on it, he couldn’t help to smile a bit as you reminded him of his university days. You were just working on something, nothing too bad.

But as time passed by, he soon realizes he only ever sees you in your computer room. You barely went out for anything, even for food. Ford didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he was worried. Things escalated for him when he barely sees you in bed anymore.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to you as you were deep in your work. He would sometimes check in on you when things felt a little too quite after he started to noticed your absent in his lab. Ford was happy you were able to pursue something new and to take the time and effort to do it. He was aware of the little game you wanted to make for the sake of saying “I made this!”. When he had the free time, he’ll listen to you talk about the things you learned, some of the issues you faced and how you fixed them, etc etc. But he can only take so much before he had to really step in for your own sake.

The sky was dark out, and it was around 1am. You weren’t in bed yet. Again. Ford was really concerned for you now. Walking through the dim hallway, he opens up the door of your computer room. He can see you fully concentrated on your screen, looking over some codes you put together, as if you were trying to find any errors in the lines of text that was presented in front of you. It was obvious how dry your eyes were, how your body longed for rest, but the urge to keep going and to fix this one mistake kept you from wanting to sleep despite how much you felt the need to do so.

It was almost funny to him. A taste of his own medicine some would say. It reminds him of the many nights on how he too would refuse to stop for the night, always needing to do one more thing before he could let himself rest. How you would do your best to persuade him to let himself walk away from his work, to take care of himself to avoid any health complications, and to spend time with you in the comfort of your bed.

It made him feel guilty as well. The things you did for him and how much you loved him to always go out of your way to show it. Ford knew he was taking full advantage of that, and he wanted to repay it back.

You jumped a little in your seat when you felt his familiar six finger hand land on your shoulder, being so focused on the lines of text on your screen that you forgot where you were for a good bit. You look over at Ford as he stood beside your seat, giving him a weak smile.

“Oh hey! Do you need anything?” You asked before quickly looking back at the screen again.

“Love, when was the last time you ate?” Ford asked you in a gentle voice.

“Uh… I had breakfast?” You answered, only remembering you had some toast with a sunny side egg on top when you last ate. It didn’t seem like it mattered too much though.

“Its almost one am” Ford replied, a little stern this time. You quickly check the clock on your taskbar, feeling surprised from how much time had passed.

“Oh… oops” you spoke mostly to yourself, feeling a little silly for not checking the time more often. “I’ll probably head to bed soon”

“Not soon,” Ford points out, “you’re going to bed now.” His words made you look at him again, confusion viable on your face.

“Just let me do this one fix-” Ford says your name, stern voice again, causing you to stop your sentence.

“You are fully aware of the effects of not taking care of yourself” Ford spoke to you with a smirk on his face. You knew that he was referencing the many of times where you brought out the facts of how the lack of sleep and self care can affect your health and day to day life. It was the best way to convince him to come to bed and let you cuddle with him until you were both asleep. “You’re no different form me, sweetheart. Got to practice what they preach, as they say”

“Uh…. I’m built different?” You gave a half shrug and a low chuckle at your own joke. Obviously, this did nothing to change his mind. You knew he was right, and had nothing to say to argue back. Ford knew this too. “Fine… let me quickly save and shut off my computer…”

Ford watches you quickly save any progress before shutting off your computer, the light of the screen turning off and making the room dark as it was the only thing on. As you start to stand, your body fully conveyed how tired you really were. You were about to walk to the hallway door before Ford lets out a ‘let me’, and you were now being picked up bridle style in his arms. You let out a small gasp, often forgetting how much muscle the older man has as he often hides it away in his iconic turtleneck. The comfort of him holding you made the realization at your own exhaustion hit hard. You can feel yourself somewhat go limp as Ford carried you to your shared room.

Ford felt you quickly relax in his arms, feeling prideful as he carried you to your bed. Sitting you on the side and pulling the blanket back. He lays you on your pillow before fallowing suit into his usual spot on the bed beside you. Your eyes were shut as you let yourself sink into the soft mattress, the weight of the blanket being pulled over you giving a sense of security, along with how his arms wrapped around you to pull you close to his chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, getting a few shivers down your spine.

“Sorry…” You mumbled to him, feeling guilty now for making him go out of his way to get you to bed. You feel him chuckle into your skin, the smile forming on his face being easily felt on your skin.

“Nothing to be sorry about sweetheart,” his replied, voice audibly sounding more tired, “I should be the one to apologize, making you go through this almost every night. I see how doing this almost all the time can be a bit frustrating for you.”

“Not if its you,” You were quickly to reply, “I’m always happy to make sure you’re okay”. Ford felt his heart flutter at your words. You always did surprised him with how much you loved him despite how many times you pointed it out.

“The feeling is mutual,” Ford placed a kiss on your skin as he caressed one of his thumbs that rested on you, “lets get to sleep now, I’ll be sure to do something for you in the morning” Ford gave another kiss on your skin, and you can’t help but to feel excited for what he had planned.

Silence followed as you two let yourselves slowly fall asleep in each others comfort. Feeling his steady heartbeat on your back lulled you to your sleep.

Ford smiled when he realized you fell asleep before he did. It was no surprise, you needed it really bad. Without fail every night when he has you in his arms like this, he feels like the luckiest man in the multiverse. He didn’t deserve you, but it was almost as if this is the repayment he deserved after many years of suffering, a way of life saying sorry to him.

And he wouldn’t ask for anything else.

[astrariums]

DRAGON'S DOGMA II (2024)

[rynwritesreid]

I wanna know you, honey| Spencer Reid

A/N: I will be continuing mind games soon I promise, that’s all :)

Summary: Spencer’s wanted since the first time he had seen you, but he is was always to scared to admit his feelings.

Content: idiots in love basically. Smut. 18+. Fem reader. Fluff. Munch! Spencer. Creampie. No mentions of contraception. P in V. Semi dom spencer. Sub reader.

Masterlist| request are open| Navigation

Spencer knew you were so far off limits; it was almost humorous, but he couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t love you, because he knew he couldn’t love you, but he would give everything he could, including his sky-high IQ, for you two to be in love with each other.

 

Spencer wanted everything from you, he wanted to know what you tasted like, he wanted to know what you looked like first thing in the morning or just after a shower, and he wanted to know what did when you were alone.

 

He often found himself daydreaming about doing mundane, everyday things with you. But shamefully, he also thought what it would be like to have sex with you. He believed you would taste like honey, and if he ever did get a taste of you, he didn’t think he would be able to ever stop himself. He wanted to know how you sounded, what kinks or fantasies you had.

 

Spencer couldn’t shake the thought of you, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. “Spencer, you either need to tell how you feel, or get a grip man.” Derek stared at Spencer, with a mix of concern and amusement.

 

*

Spencer had neither told you about his feelings, nor got a grip. Instead, he found himself slipping deeper into his fantasies about you. The thought of your smile, your touch, consumed him day and night.

 

“Spencer, have you told her yet?” JJ interrupted his thoughts, her concern evident in her voice. Spencer shifted in his seat, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes of revealing his true emotions to you.

 

He had rehearsed the conversation a million times in his head, each scenario ending with a different reaction from you. The fear of rejection gripped him tightly, paralyzing him from taking that final leap of faith.

 

"I... I haven't found the right moment yet," Spencer stammered, avoiding JJ's piercing gaze. But deep down, he knew it wasn't about timing. It was about finding the courage to lay bare his vulnerable heart before you, risking it all for a chance at something more. And the fact that his boss, saw you as his daughter.

 

You weren’t biologically related to Hotch, but while you attended Georgetown University, you had become Jacks nanny. Hotch was the one who had pushed you to join the FBI and become a profiler. He had become overly protective off you, knowing the dangers of their line of work all too well.

 

“Is it really because you haven’t found the right moment yet, or is the fact that she is that close to Hotch scaring you off?” JJ watched Spencer carefully, knowing there was more to his hesitation than just timing.

 

*

All of Spencer’s thought now were consumed by you, he wanted you, he wanted you more than anything he has ever wanted before. “Hey, Spence. Are you okay? It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.” You whispered, there was a hint of sadness in your voice.

 

"Hey," Spencer replied softly, his heart racing at the sound of your voice. He couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes, afraid that you would see right through him. "I... I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

 

You moved closer, concern etched on your face. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You know you can always confide in me, right?"

 

Why did you have to be so friendly, and genuinely nice and caring. “It’s… its nothing. I know I can always talk to you don’t worry, but there isn’t anything to talk to you about right now.” Spencer swallowed hard, the words he longed to say caught in his throat.

 

“Okay. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”  Your voice was calming to him, it was something he wished he could listen to constantly. As you walked back to your desk, he noticed Emily and JJ glaring at him.

 

*

You don’t know what time it is, but you hear a light knocking at your door. Before you even start moving towards it, you hear Spencer’s voice, “Hey it’s me.”

 

Without hesitation, you opened the door to find Spencer standing there, his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

 

"Spencer, what are you doing here so late?" you asked, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at his unexpected visit.

 

He didn’t answer though, he just moved closer to you. His hand cupped your cheek, making you look directly at him. This is the first time you had seen Spencer this close, you could see how plump his lips, how his hair perfectly framed his face, and how his face looked like it had been created by a Greek god.

 

Before you knew it, and before you could ask him again what he was doing here, his lips were on yours.

 

Passionate and intense, his kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you. Spencer's lips were soft yet urgent against yours, as if he had been holding back this desire for far too long. You melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

 

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do that?” Spencer whispered against your lips, his breath warm and sweet. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection or hesitation. But all you could see reflected back at you was longing and raw emotion.

 

“How long?” is all you could manage to say. Spencer's answer came in the form of another searing kiss, his hands pulling you closer to him. As you melted into his embrace, you started to wonder if he had wanted this as long as you had. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy it was happening now.

 

As Spencer pulled away from the kiss, all you wanted to do was pull him back into it, you didn’t want the kiss to end. “Which way is your bedroom?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with desire. You raised your arm, and pointed out your bedroom door, and before you could say or do anything else, you felt Spencer pick you up and place you over his shoulder.

 

"Spencer! Put me down, I can walk!" you giggled, feeling a mix of excitement and shock at his actions.

 

"I know, but I don't want to take any chances. Besides, I like carrying you around." he replied with a playful smirk.

 

You had never really thought Spencer would be strong enough to carry you like this. Derek and Hotch certainly looked like they could, but not Spencer. Spencer carried you to your bedroom with ease, though.

 

As he gently set you down on the bed, a rush of anticipation filled the room. His eyes met yours, a mix of adoration and desire swirling in their depths. “Do you want to know what else I’ve wanted to do to you?” Spencer whispered, his voice low and filled with longing. Without waiting for a response, his lips captured yours again in a fervent kiss that left you breathless.

 

His hands wondered your body till he found the hem of your pj shorts. “Is it okay if I take these off?” Spencer asked, his eyes searching for your permission. You nodded slowly, your heart pounding in your chest as you gave him the go-ahead.

 

He slowly pulled down your shorts, revealing your soft skin beneath. Spencer trailed his fingers along your thighs, something he had dreamed off so many times. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin as his touch sent shivers down your spine. He palmed your breasts through your t-shirt, sparking waves of pleasure that left you gasping for air. His lips found your neck, trailing soft kisses that sent desire coursing through your veins.

 

His hands pulled your t-shirt off you, revealing your bare skin. He paused for a moment, taking you in with a mix of admiration and hunger. His lips moved from your necks and down towards your breasts, kissing each one gently. You arched into him, feeling his tongue traces the outline of your nipple, making you moan softly.

His lips then moved on to your stomach, and finally they found their way to your clit.

 

His touch was expertly gentle, yet firm, and you could feel his intense focus on you. You let out a string of moans, your body tense with the desire he was unleashing within you. You could feel your arousal building, the intensity of his fingers and lips working their magic on you.

 

You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing second. It hit you like a tidal wave, waves of pleasure washing over you, your body tensing and then relaxing with each powerful contraction. You cried out, your voice ringing out loud and clear through the room.

 

You tasted as sweet as he thought you would, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel you around him, he wanted to hear you begging for him. As he drew his fingers out from your damp centre, a satisfied smile graced his lips, he knew he had made a profound impact on you.

 

Without missing a beat, he rose above you, his eyes scorching into yours, and positioned himself at your entrance. You looked up at him, fear and anticipation dancing in your eyes. He glanced down at your face, reading your emotions, and caressed your cheek.

 

“Don't worry,” he whispered, aiming to quell those fears gleaming in your gaze. “I'll be gentle, and I'll take care of you.”

 

You felt his warm, hard length nudging against your entrance, and your breathing hitched. He gently pushed himself inside you, and you felt like he was filling you in a way no one else ever could. Your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and pleasure.

 

Slowly, he began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each movement. The sensation was indescribable, like fire and ice coursing through your veins.

 

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer as the pleasure built within you. “Harder, please.” You begged; your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

Spencer, not one to deny you anything, increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the raw passion and need reflected back at you.

It wasn't long before the tension within you reached its peak, and you cried out as you collapsed over the edge. Spencer's thrusts grew more intense, and before you knew it, he too was surrendering to the pleasure, the satisfaction of giving you what you've always needed.

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[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon. 

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role. 

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention. 

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps. 

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect. 

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious. 

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject. 

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words. 

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head. 

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.  

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined. 

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking. 

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.  

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right? 

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple. 

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered. 

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. 

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind. 

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body. 

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust. 

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect. 

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well. 

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high. 

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response. 

A bath sounds nice.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[bunnybubae]

☔This and more

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: One Shot - Established Relationship - Slice of Life - Fluff - Smutty Smut 

Summary: Your weekend at the beach seems to be completely ruined, but luckily, your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook is ready to change everything. 

Warnings: A delicious lunch and a drink at home, they call each other bubi and baby, Bf&Gf shenanigans,✨surprises✨, overall a tooth rotting piece of fluff served with a side of hot steamy smut *wink wink*, the end ❤️

Smut Warnings: Lots of steamy kisses, teasing, love bites, actual bites, dirty talking, worshiping, fingering, oral (F receiving), brief blowjob, rough sex, unprotected sex (she takes the pill), cum on breasts, love making 💓, creampie

Wc: 5.6k 

A/N:  Hiii!🫣I know I should be working on the Red Light series, I promise it's wip and will come to life sooner or later, but I miss my boyfriend who's traveling for work and the weather is shit over here... I had this idea in my docs and I just felt inspired to finally write it. I hope you like it! 🥺 - Joy 🐰

The sun is scorching and the sky is always clear. People wear light clothes and have fun outside. This is summer, right?

Wrong.

Not this weekend at least, since the weather forecast predicted heavy rain until Sunday.

This weekend, in which you had plans with your boyfriend and your friends to spend it at the beach, with tents, lots of food and beach games. Everything ruined, since the first thunder that rumbled.

You wouldn't have been so upset about it if it weren't for the fact that work has been a living hell lately and that you really were looking forward to this outdoor weekend. Even if it was only for a few days, you really wanted to regenerate and disconnect from everything work related.

The sky is so gray, almost black, like your mood right now.

It's Saturday morning and usually, you and Jungkook leave shortly after breakfast to go grocery shopping, when, presumably, there are less people and it is easier to find what you need for the week. As if the bad weather wasn't badding enough, something seems to have hurt your boyfriend, who reluctantly told you that he can't come with you.

You sigh deeply, it couldn't go worse, you think, but maybe it's just your bad mood's fault for these thoughts.

You worry about Jungkook as you look for a spot in the supermarket parking lot. You text him once you find one, asking if he needs medicine or anything else for his stomachache, but he reassures you shortly after, replying that some lactic ferments will do the job.

You continue to stare at his response on the screen thoughtfully, maybe last night's fried chicken was too spicy?

Anyway, the temperature has dropped a lot because of the weather. You put on one of Jungkook's sweatshirts and get ready by putting the hood on before going out to reach the supermarket.

You spend about a couple of hours inside, looking for everything you had on your list.

As you’re about to reach the checkout, with a full cart and the only desire to go home, your phone rings.

It’s a text from Jungkook.

Bubi ❤️: “Bubi could you please buy some fresh mint and lemons while u'r out?”

You check his request a second time, not too sure you understand.

You stop in your tracks, frowning as you type a response.

You: “What do you need them for?”

You watch the chat and his name as it appears and disappears shortly after, waiting for his response, which comes a few moments later.

Bubi❤️: “I read somewhere that making tea with mint and lemon helps calm a stomach ache and I wanna try.”

You're not too convinced but It makes sense, if you think about it.

You reply that you'll get mint and lemons and that you'll go to the pharmacy before you head back home.

It’s almost lunchtime when you park the car in front of the apartment complex where you live.

The rain shows no signs of ceasing, continuing to pound on the windshield of the car. 

When you’re about to get out to grab the groceries from the trunk, you see your boyfriend come out of the front door of the building and reach to your car door with a little jog.

He’s holding an open umbrella in his hand and when he opens the car door to let you out, he smiles widely.

“What are you doing out here?!”

“Let’s carry everything to the elevator together,”

And with that, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead, a little damp from the rain.

You had forgotten your umbrella at home, despite his warnings. Too caught up in the greyness of your mood, evidently.

Once you have emptied your trunk and reached the elevator with the grocery bags in hand, you sigh loudly. A little tired from the weight of the bags and a little guilty for your state of mind.

He's always so helping and sweet and you have been quite intractable since yesterday. You feel the need to apologize to him.

Jungkook looks at you in silence, a slight smile on his lips as he plays with the piercing of his lip with his tongue.

"I'm sorry, bubi..." You break the silence, taking him by surprise.

"Mh? For what?"

You watch him as you explain why you really needed this weekend away to rest and relax a bit.

Jungkook nods, listening to you until your elevator ride stops at your floor.

"I know baby, don't worry."

The elevator's doors slide open.

It seems he wants to say something else, but he picks up the bags instead and starts to walk towards the front door of your apartment.

You follow him with the bags in your hand, feeling a little lighter and determined not to ruin this weekend any further.

Jungkook opens the door, gets rid of his shoes in the blink of an eye, leaving them near the shoe rack before running towards the kitchen. You don't understand what's gotten into him all of a sudden and when you enter, you put the bags down next to you to take off your shoes and tidy up his too.

When Jungkook returns a few moments later, he picks up your discarded bags too and rushes into the kitchen with them.

"What are you doing?"

You know very well that your boyfriend has these energetic outbursts from time to time, like the good golden retriever boyfriend he is.

He doesn't answer, instead you see him come back towards you, slightly out of breath.

“Ook, so,” He begins, catching his breath.

“I know this weekend at the beach meant a lot to you, especially after spending the last 3 months working non-stop,” 

His hands find yours and squeeze gently as he guides you through the small hallway of your entryway.

“And I know how much you need this, so,” He pauses, making you stop your tracks right in front of him as well.

“I’m sorry I made you go grocery shopping alone with this weather.”

He moves aside, allowing you to see what he was trying to hide behind his back.

The couch has been moved against the wall, the big carpet is adorned with countless children's toys, the classic ones for digging or making shapes in the sand and you notice an inflatable ball and some beach towels hidden under a beach umbrella.

The living room didn't seem that big, yet everything seems to fit in effortlessly. 

You don't know what to say exactly, you observe everything with wide eyes and open mouth as Jungkook continues his speech.

"I know it's not the same thing, but-" You don't even give him time to finish the sentence, that your lips crash against his, your hands holding his face still as you kiss his mouth softly.

Initially surprised, Jungkook gives in in a split second, wrapping his arms around your small figure.

You let him hold you as a few tears threaten to escape your eyes.

You part from his lips just for a moment. 

"So you didn't have diarrhea," And with that, you both burst into laughter in each other's arms as a small tear rolls down your face for the gratitude.

You are truly touched by the effort he put into it, by the love that hides such a gesture.

The laughter stops and your eyes lock. Jungkook caresses your cheek, wiping away that small, solitary tear.

"Thank you, babe..." Your tone is sweet and full of love and gratitude for him.

"This and more for you,"

He grabs one of your hands that are still holding his face and brings it to his lips, he kisses your knuckles with such delicacy before he moves away from you.

"Anyway, you don't look like you're dressed for the beach, why don't you go change while I sort out the groceries?"

You look down at yourself and giggle, even though it's not that hot, the idea of ​​indulging in this little indoor beach is thrilling, you nod, telling him he's right, then you turn around, heading to your bedroom.

"No! Wait!"

Jungkook suddenly exclaims, making you stop in your tracks.

"I moved the bag you had packed to the bathroom, so you can change right there!"

"Oh okay, I'll take the chance to take a quick shower, then."

You reach the bathroom, getting ready to shower before you could finally wear your new bikini.

During your shower you can't help but smile at the idea that you're about to spend some time at the beach, without the beach, and the sun, and the sea. It's amusing. 

Once cleaned and smelling nice, you put on your lilac bikini and its matching beach dress, fix your hair a bit and go back to the living room.

You don't remember seeing the TV on when you came in, but the sound of the waves envelopes you immediately. 

On the TV, a high definition video of the waves lapping the beach repeats over and over and it's yet another detail that makes you smile. Jungkook has really thought of everything.

He's not in the living room, though.

You walk towards the kitchen, smelling something nice as you near the door.  When you enter, you find your shirtless sexy boyfriend in front of the stove as he cooks something. 

"Damn, that smells good," The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh fish and lemon, it's so mouth-watering.

"That's what you needed the lemon for!"

You giggle as you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his hips and leaving a light kiss on his shoulder as you watch his movements.

"I just watched a tutorial, I hope it turns out good."

He moves in your arms, turning around so he can observe your figure.

He hums delighted by what he sees.

The swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly and the beach dress semi-transparent fabric allows Jungkook to admire and go wild in his mind, with that see-through effect that makes him crazy.

You know exactly what's going through his mind right now. You can read it in his expression.

Despite the many years of relationship with him, the passion and attraction between you has always been strong, never faltering.

Jungkook has always worshiped your body in every possible way. 

And his carnal gaze, which gently caresses your curves, is proof of that.

It's unbelievable how one single look from him is enough to make you feel like the most beautiful thing in this world.

“You like it?”

You ask innocently, spinning around so he can look at beautiful ass as well.

He hums in agreement, “It’ll look great on the floor later.”

And it’s not the phrase that makes your legs feel weak, but the tone of his voice. Warm and provocative, just the way you like it.

He steals a kiss that’s way too innocent to justify the burning sensation in your belly, before turning his attention back to the stove.

“You should cook shirtless more often,” 

You try to speak, trying to sound unaffected, while your hands nonchalantly caress his pecs from behind, going down to his abs.

He chuckles softly, perfectly knowing what you're up to.

You love every single detail of his body. You swear you know by heart every groove and bump and yet the intensity of your yearning surprises you every time.

You sigh, trapping your lip between your teeth, unable to stop your hands from free roaming on his soft skin.

He is so addicting.

"Y/N.." Your name leaves his lips accompanied by a deep breath.

Your hands have the same effect that his skin has on you.

"What?"

You ask, not missing the contractions of his muscles under your touch when your hands tease his belly, just above the waistband of his swimsuit.

Jungkook turns off the stove and pushes the food away.

Then he turns around, and his face is now a few inches from yours.

In one quick and agile movement, he picks you up, letting your legs circle his bare waist. 

A deep breath escapes your mouth as his chest touches yours and a second later you're sitting on the countertop, its coldness briefly soothing your heat.

"You can't do that while I'm cooking,"

He lets out, then he urgently dives forward, peppering the thin skin of your neck with languid kisses..

You almost moan at the touch. 

"Why not,"

You ask, hoping your voice doesn't sound too desperate right now.

"Cause I'd have to fuck you hard and quick, right here on this countertop,"

You tilt your head backwards, allowing him to do as he pleases with your neck.

"And,"

He pauses, licking a long, slow stripe, from your collarbone to the skin below your earlobe.

"Even tho I know how much you love to be fucked like that,"

He softly kisses your jawline, then whispers right to your ear and your insides turn into boiling lava.

"I want to take my time with you, I want to taste you and savor every drop of your juice when I make you come."

His hands are nowhere on your body, you're only trapped between his arms that keep his weight slightly lean on you. And yet, your skin feels so hot, like his voice and words are washing the last bit of sanity away, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You gulp, unable to speak as you try to calm your breathing.

You love this man, you think you never stopped crushing over him, you're a total mess right now, by only his words and kisses on the neck.

"Fuck baby.."

You manage to say, even though your voice sounds strained.

"Be patient, yeah?"

And just like that, the magic is over.

He frees you, leaving your body hot and bothered just like that.

You whine a little, a sound that makes him chuckle darkly, probably proud of the effect he still has on you. 

You're a tad bit annoyed, you're not gonna lie, but the excitement for what's to come prevails.

After having lunch with some delicious lemony fish, you and Jungkook decide to enjoy some relaxation lying on the beach towels placed on the floor in front of the TV. The mint cocktails you made earlier rest next to you, while some music plays casually from your phone.

You have to admit that the whole vibe is working very well, you don't even miss the sand and the smell of saltiness in the air. Everything feels just right, with the man you love by your side.

The apartment isn't that big, but everything Jungkook has prepared for the theme seems to fit perfectly, without being too bulky.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, while sipping your drink every now and then.

You notice that there is enough space between the towels and the television, so you decide to grab the Nintendo Switch from its dock, and place it in front of you.

"Wanna play?"

Jungkook, who seems far too relaxed on his towel, is drawn in by your playful tone, he smiles nodding before grabbing a pair of joycons.

"What do you wanna play?"

You think for a moment, as you scroll through the games you have, undecided between Just Dance, volleyball, which might be the most suitable for the beach mood, or WarioWare, which as stupid as it is, never fails to make you laugh.

"We could play some volleyball to begin with, what do you say?"

"I'm down,"

You make some space and strap your joy con, just to be sure you don't crash anything while playing.

The games go smoothly and match after match and sip after sip of your drinks, you grow dizzier. 

By the time you start playing Wario Ware, you both are a laughing mess, seeing your boyfriend copy those funny poses is the highlight of the day.

Your cheeks are hurting from the laugh and you don't even know what time it is while the rain keeps pouring outside.

The sound of sporadic thunder is a soft reminder that what is going on outside, doesn't bother you at all. 

Especially now, embraced in your boyfriend's arms, skin to skin, as the center of your living room becomes the center of your world.

He kisses you, ever so gently, as his mouth moves with yours in a dance they know oh so well.

You bet his lips shared some secrets with yours as when you part from each other for a moment, you both smile fondly. As if no words are needed.

The way he's looking at you makes you feel so lucky.

You feel so precious when he touches you, so cherished.

His hands are so tender and attentive, he outlines your sides, pushing his body to yours as if it was possible to feel you even closer.

The game is long forgotten as you share another kiss, less innocent than the previous one.

Your hands bravely caress his shoulders and nape before intertwining with some soft locks.

Some music is still playing from your phone, thrown somewhere on the carpet when suddenly, As Long As You Love Me by Justin Bieber starts playing. 

A pretty old song, but you remember you saved the acoustic version a long time ago, when you two weren't even a thing.

It couldn't be more apt for this moment in time, you think.

Your smile breaks the kiss and even though you feel your head a little heavy from the alcohol, you start singing.

He watches you fondly, swinging with you in his arms to the rhythm as he begins to sing the song with you.

His voice is heaven, you always told him that and he likes to sing for you. Although the shower or the car are his favorite stages most of the time.

You keep singing your heart out, pouring all your love in the lyrics as your gaze gets lost in his.

You've always been the sensitive type, especially in this kind of situation.

Your boyfriend seems as affected as you, though.

His gaze is glimmering and his embrace is tighter than before.

The song slowly but surely comes toward its end when Jungkook softly leans forward, whispering the last phrase right on your lips.

Your heart feels like it's about to burst in your chest and a moment later you're kissing him, like your life depends on it.

He lets you kiss him, lets you taste his tongue and maybe it's the alcohol, maybe the whole vibe, but you end up sprawled on the beach towels, kissing each other's brains out.

The beach umbrella, placed open on the ground for obvious reasons, offers some sort of shield from the artificial light of the lamp. The light filters through the colored material, leaving a soft hue of colors on your bodies.

You don't know where your beach dress has been thrown, the only thing in your mind right now, is your boyfriend's kisses.

He prints wet kisses all over your body and you feel like you're burning.

You breathe heavily, concentrating on the sensations of his lips on your abdomen.

"So fucking pretty,"

He states, seemingly out of breath. You shiver in pleasure as your heart skips a beat.

His hands reach your bikini bottom and you almost moan shamelessly as he asks,

"Are you already wet for me, baby?"

Then he pushes your bikini aside, not waiting for your answers, wanting to find out himself.

"Fuck, yes"

It's the only phrase that leaves your gaping mouth as he swipes his fingers between your legs.

You can feel the stickiness of your bikini and his breath right in front of your core.

"Want me to make you even wetter?

A soft yes leaves your lips, barely audible.

"Speak up, baby,"

It's a lewd scene, your legs are wide open in front of him and Jungkook is palming himself with his free hand. His swimming trunks are an uncomfortable obstacle but it's something he'll deal with later.

His attention is only focused on you right now.

"Kook-"

You moan as his wet fingers circle your clit.

"I want your tongue," you confess "Make me come on your tongue,"

You breathe out as your hands move over your tits, sliding under the fabric of your bikini top.

"Fuck, I love when you talk to me like that,"

He groans, and a moment later, he is giving in, licking your folds, sucking your clit, just as you like it. He knows it's going to make you a moaning mess before him.

He wasn't lying before, he is taking his sweet time savoring you, fucking you slowly with his tongue, then circling your clit and sucking on it every now and then.

When your body reacts at the waves of pleasure his motions are providing, he laughs darkly, the vibration of it a sweet addition to your pleasure.

Your body trembles, your orgasm building up at every french kiss he gives your pussy and you think you're going insane.

Your moans are louder, turning to sweet little whine when you know you're about to reach your high.

"I'm close, fuck, don't stop,"

As if he needed you to tell him not to stop.

Jungkook is quick to react, pushing with ease his middle and ring finger inside you.

The new stimulation makes you cry out in pleasure and he is so turned on by your sounds, he thinks he might bust in his swimming suit just with that.

"Love this pussy,"

He says, voice deep and steady.

"Can't wait to fuck you just right,"

And just like that, the built up tension in your belly snaps and a strong orgasm washes over you.

His hands, his words, the picture of his pretty cock slamming into your pussy, sends you over the edge. 

You let out a moan that sounds like his name and your hands move from your tits to brush his hair. 

You're still trembling from your orgasm when you open your eyes, not sure when you closed them and all you see is your boyfriend, hair disheveled, sucking on his wet fingers like a lollipop. 

His dark gaze meets your dazed eyes and he smiles, way too innocently considering the lustful motions of his tongue.

"God," you blurt out,  trying to regain a stable breathing, "Why are you still wearing that?"

You point at his bottom half, moving a second later to help him freed himself from the useless piece of clothing.  

His dick springs free, hungry and leaking some precum.

You hum, licking your lips as if you were a starved woman, ready to devour her meal. 

When you grab the base of his thick member and move to lick it, Jungkook surprisingly blocks your hand gently.

You frown, looking up mid motion, puzzled.

"I won't be able to hold back much longer if you suck me,"

His voice is almost apologetic and you tenderly smile, finding his confession hot and endearing at the same time.

"Just a little?"

You put up your best pleading eyes, softly adding, "Please?"

Jungkook's eyes roll back as he bites his lip and a deep breath leaves through his nostrils.

You know he likes when you beg for it.

While you scream in pleasure or with big innocent eyes, he just loves when you ask nicely, like a good girl.

He can't resist you.

He could never resist those pretty eyes of yours.

He shifts in his place, allowing you to get on your knees before grabbing your chin, ever so gently.

"Be a good girl then and open wide."

You smile in content, doing just as he asked, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sticking out your tongue.

When you look up at him, Jungkook slowly puts his fingers inside your mouth, and your faint taste still lingers in them. 

You suck and lick on them for a second, then when he pulls them out, he smears your saliva along his sensitive dick. 

His breaths are heavy and when he slams it a couple of times on your tongue he groans.

That's when he loses it a little. 

He grabs your jaw, helping you tilt your head at the right angle, then pushes the tip inside. 

You do your best by swirling your tongue around the salty tip, closing your lips around it just enough for him to feel a little pressure.

By the time you pop your lips open, he pushes a little more in, enough to stuff your mouth.

You instinctively bob your head, trying to get more of him inside and when a moan escapes his throat, you know he will stop you soon.

You take the opportunity to tease him a little, grabbing at his butt and fondling the soft skin of it as he sloppily thrusts.

Jungkook's sounds are animalistic, his thrusts are steady but right before he pulls out completely, he gives one last thrust that almost hits the back of your throat.

You gasp for air as he gently pushes you back down on the beach towel.

He swiftly takes your bikini away, both the bottom and the top, and latches his plumb lips to one of your breasts.

The coldness of his piercing mixed with his hot breath is a nice contrast for your perked up nipples.

You hiss when he bites the sensitive nub, but he quickly eases the pain away by kissing and lapping at the abused skin.

"Kook-"

A broken moan leaves your throat when he bites you again, this time on the delicate meat of your breast. It's softer than before, but you feel hyper responsive right now. 

"Can I come here?"

He whispers, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

You giggle, feeling a little ticklish when his fingers travel down your sides.

"Why are you asking?" you pull him closer till his cock is leaning between your folds.

The contact sends shivers down to your core and you buck your hips almost automatically.

"You know I love it, Kook"

He just needed to hear you say that aloud, that's clear when pushes up a little, aligning the tip of his member with your entrance. 

"You love it, huh? Thought you loved it more inside you tho,"

He pushes in, inch by inch as he finishes his phrase.

You gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling breathless as he bottoms up.

"I love it down my throat too,"

That makes him go feral. 

It's all you're able to say before he props up on his elbow, one hand behind your shoulder, the other clasped around your hip to keep you there as he fucks you at a ruthless pace.

You're fucking on the floor, on a beach towel, shielded by a beach umbrella with Wario Ware long forgotten on the tv and some music shuffling from your phone, meanwhile outside it's pouring and thundering since this morning.

It might seem a messy situation, but everything feels at his place.. Nothing is missing here.

Every thrust elicits soft moans from you. He promptly kisses you, and as you make out you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him closer and closer.

That allows him to jack hammer into you with measured force. 

The squelching sounds are filling the room, followed by his throaty moans and yours.

You're about to come once again, the pressure on your stomach well fed by the way his cock is hitting on the right spot inside you.

"Kook," you cry out, "I'm about to-"

"Me too baby," he pecks your lips before he adds, "Let me feel you come all over my cock,"

His hips slap against yours impossibly fast, just as fast as your orgasm approaches.

Your body stiffens and after a few seconds there it is, the sweet release, the white pleasure that washes over you.

You cry out his name repeatedly, till your cry subside to a moan and you feel his thrusts getting sloppier and erratic.

"Fuck, yes, I'm coming too,"

And he pulls out quickly, kneeling between your trembling legs before he pumps his fist around his drenched dick a few times before hot spurts of his cum lands on your body.

He moans shamelessly and you love when he gets all vocal, it turns you on even though you feel totally devastated right now.

He covers your breasts in sticky white and some of it lands on your chin too.

You don't mind, not when he looks so blissed and fucked out.

When he empties his load completely, he watches you, admiring his masterpiece and offering you a hand.

He chuckles breathlessly and pecks your lips as he pulls you up.

"Let's take a shower, shall we?"

You nod, not sure if you're able to speak right. 

You make sure to turn off the tv and the music on your phone before you head straight to the bathroom.

Jungkook offers to wash you up first and you let him do it.

It's obviously not the first time you shower together, but it doesn't happen that often either.

You wash up each other, giggling and chatting like he was not balls deep inside you just moments ago.

By the time you finish your shower and dry up, it's dinner time.

You enjoy your evening eating the food you thoroughly prepared beforehand right on the floor, because yes, Jungkook refused to put away the beach towels saying that "Our beach experience is not over yet". 

Even though you shake your head in defeat, you chuckle, amused by his determination.

The evening went by in total relaxation, you're curled up on your boyfriend's side as another episode of Demon's Slayer flashes on the tv screen. The air is chilly right now and you feel the fatigue of the day get the better of you. 

"Wanna go to bed after this episode?"

He asks, noticing your breathing is getting heavier.

You fell asleep a couple of times for a few minutes, trying to keep track of what you're watching when you woke up, but it's kind of frustrating.

You hum in agreement, stretching your back a little.

When the episode comes to its end, Jungkook stands up from the ground and leaves the living room. You walk up to the window, curious to see the state of the world outside.

Perhaps you hoped to see a clear sky, but unfortunately you were disappointed.

It's still raining, though it's not pouring like this afternoon. Droplets of water are slamming on the glass in a soft lullaby.

It's soothing somehow and you take a moment to take in the different effect the rainy weather has on you right now, compared to this morning.

Strong arms circle your waist and a soft peck on your head draws your attention away from the window. 

"There's another surprise for you,"

He whispers right in your ear before you turn around to look into his eyes.

Your arms find their place around his neck and you look at him, intrigued.

"Another one?"

He grins at your curiosity, pulling you towards the bedroom just a moment later.

When you enter the room, you're welcomed by his favorite galaxy lamp while it projects purple and blue hue up on the roof. 

Small green dots serve as little stars, scattered all around as they are slow dancing and a camping tent about the size of the bed is placed on top of it.

You're shocked, unable to speak as emotions get stuck in your throat, you inspect the room with teary eyes, touched by all his effort to make this weekend just perfect.

"Do you like it?"

He tentatively asks, watching your reaction by the frame of the door.

When you turn around you quickly reach out to him, hugging him so tight you think you might break his spine.

You softly sob on his chest as he returns the hug, kissing the top of your head affectionately and when you finally look up at him with a wide smile, Jungkook breaks in the softest laugh you have ever heard from him.

"It's perfect," you state, "You are perfect,"

Jungkook's gaze fills with all the love he has for you, a gaze that doesn't need words and after he dried away your salty tears, you kiss him passionately. 

Nothing could ever compare to this moment, to this little piece of heaven he created for just the two of you, under a starry sky that belongs to you and him and no one else.

You poured all your love on every inch of his body, tasted his soft skin and marked it as yours.

He did the same to you, making sure your body was worshiped as it deserves.

That night, you made love like nothing existed outside of your camping tent, it was only you and him, becoming one as your soft moans mingled in the room.

It was gentle, like the time was no longer flowing until slowly but surely, you reached your high together, hugging each other as he came inside you.

You felt full of him, in every sense possible as he softly kissed your forehead and you whispered the sweetest I love you in the air.

You cuddled to sleep, refusing to leave your tent to go wash up and when the morning after you woke up between your boyfriend's arms, you knew another beautiful day on a sandless beach awaited.

Another day with the love of your life, in your little perfect world.

[reitski]

୨୧˚𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬˚୨୧

☆.｡. 𝑓𝑡: 𝑟𝑒𝑜, 𝑠𝑎𝑒, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑖, 𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑖, 𝑟𝑖𝑛, 𝑏𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑎, 𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑖, 𝑡𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑢, 𝑛𝑖𝑘𝑜, ℎ𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑖, 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢, 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑢, 𝑘𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑖, 𝑘𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑟

‎♡‧₊˚‎ 𝑹𝑬𝑶- wears a necklace with his partner's initials on it. likes to stare it all the time; when he wins a game, feels sad, feels lonely... also loves it when his partner does the same thing. when people ask you about your necklace and you say ''it's for my boyfriend'', reo feels so proud.

‎♡‧₊˚‎ 𝑺𝑨𝑬- you lift the blanket for him to sleep next to you. you talk about your day as you run your fingers through his hair. sae melts into your arms, tries so hard to keep his eyes open. sadly he can't resist his body and sleeps like a baby in your chest.

‎♡‧₊˚ 𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑰- allows you to do his eyeliner while you sit on his lap. he puts his hands on your hips, you ask him to stop fidgeting and moving, but he disturbs your every word with kisses. he looks so pretty all the time.

‎♡‧₊˚ 𝑵𝑨𝑮𝑰- texting while in the same room. you give exaggerated reactions to each other from where you sit. also nagi is texting inappropriate scenarios just to see your reaction.

‎♡‧₊˚ 𝑹𝑰𝑵- taking care of him while he's drunk is when you will see the real rin. he's so clingy, so cute and blushes so hard. lots of giggles, laughter and ''a kiss! one more time. one more time. one more time.'' he holds your face, caresses it softly and mumbles sweet things.

‎♡‧₊˚ 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑨- records many of your memories. takes a lot of selfies with you. most of them are blurry and funny, sometimes inappropriate. he loves making videos with his head on your chest, lying between your legs. he looks at these memories when he feels lonely.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑰𝑺𝑨𝑮𝑰- slow dance in the kitchen. isagi adores such cozy moments, even if it's cliché. he opens the song that belongs to the two of you on his phone and gets you swirling around the kitchen. he'll finally kiss you as the two of you rock gently side by side.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑻𝑺𝑼- takes you on picnic dates. nervous at first because he thinks you won't like it. smiles big when he sees you having fun. he makes a crown of flowers for you. compliments you a lot, smiles shyly, tries covering his blush.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑵𝑰𝑲𝑶- night time conversations. it could be about the two of your interests or just plain bullshit. he loves spending quality time with you. niko lies down on your stomach while talking about his favorite greek mythology god at 2 am.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑯𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑰- loves playing video games with you. he looks nonchalant sometimes in real life but actually he is not. shows his love to you with doing cute little things in games. he takes you on dates in animal crossing, puts your beds next to each other in minecraft.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑼- cooks for you. he knows your favorites and tries to cook them anytime, just for seeing you smile. he breaks his routine and gets up early to make you breakfast. but, barou isn't that good with words. he will most likely put the food in front of you and yell at you to eat it.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑼- can't help himself from touching you. it could be an aggressive or a soft touch. he loves both, he loves to put his feelings into his body language. when you walk down the street and he notices a man staring at you, his grip on your hand tightens. if he's excited or happy, his hands will make tiny circles around your waist.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑰- late night drives, the best way to escape the stress of the day. you both get out of the car to watch the stars together. while watching the enchanting view of the sky, he tells you about his dreams and worries about the future. and of course he doesn't forget to put his jacket on your shoulder.

♡‧₊˚ 𝑲𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑹- flirts with you in front of your friends just to embarrass you. he loves the expressions you make when you're angry or embarrassed. he wraps his hands around your waist and tells everyone how beautiful, sweet, wonderful you are. kaiser finds your reactions amusing. so, he's determined that you continue to entertain him.

[reidswhre]

secret santa; spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: based on the gift that jim gives to pam on the “christmas party” episode on the office! basically a secret santa!

warnings: absolutely fuffly

a/n: it’s september so that’s means december. i love christmas and i would not stop writing about the office i’m sorry (not really) english is not my first language, let me know any mistakes, also remember that my request are open!

Christmas is that time of year when the world seems to pause in a sigh of hope and joy.

The streets, normally gray and monotonous, transform into rivers of twinkling lights that dance with the wind, as if the stars themselves had descended from the sky to accompany humanity in its celebration.

The air is filled with a cold that doesn't bother you, but rather invites you to embrace a little tighter, to seek the warmth of a fireplace or the soft glow of candles in the window.

It was definitely your favorite time of year.

And you were determined to bring that spirit to the BAU.

"Hello! How is everyone?" You rushed into the office, carrying a pumpkin latte for each of your coworkers. You went to every desk, dropping off their coffee.

"Hey, sunshine," Morgan smiled broadly at you. "What’s with all this cheer?"

"It's almost Christmas, Derek! I’m so excited." You beamed, handing him his latte. "This is the best time of year, of life, of everything!"

Spencer smiled at your excitement. He wasn’t particularly crazy about Christmas—not that he minded it. It was a nice season, sure, but nothing that kept him up at night.

"So, because I’m super excited, I thought we could do a secret santa!" you told your teammates.

"What’s that?" Emily asked, looking a bit lost.

“You’re joking, right?” JJ stared at her in disbelief.

Everyone chuckled a little at Emily’s confusion.

“What? What’s going on? I don’t know what that is, guys,” Emily protested.

“It’s a game where everyone gets assigned a secret friend to exchange gifts with. And on the day of the exchange, you find out who your secret friend is, and you swap gifts based on their tastes, of course.”

Everyone turned their attention to Reid.

“The tradition of gift exchanges in December dates back to Roman festivals. ‘Who gives a gift gains prestige and creates an obligation in the recipient, who must somehow reciprocate the gesture, thus forging social bonds of hospitality, protection, and mutual exchange,’” Reid explained.

“Thanks a lot, Reid.” Derek laughed. “You just took the fun out of Christmas.”

“Don’t say that.” You lightly swatted Derek’s shoulder, scolding him.

“Anyway! Are you guys in? Please!” you begged your coworkers.

“Of course, sounds like fun,” JJ smiled at you.

“Good luck convincing Hotch,” Emily laughed.

“Are you kidding? He’s my best friend,” you scoffed with mock seriousness, making everyone laugh.

“I’ll tell Garcia,” Derek gave you a small pat on the shoulder, smiling at you.

You invited everyone to your house for a small dinner and to exchange gifts.

You were wearing a long-sleeve burgundy blouse, with a black skirt and tights, and your hair loose. You felt beautiful.

You had managed to convince Hotch; it wasn’t hard, he was really a sweetheart, just pretended not to be.

The gift exchange was planned, and you got Garcia. This made you extremely happy; you knew her well and had come up with a great gift for her.

She had been wanting a video game for a long time, but it was quite expensive, and she wasn’t willing to splurge on it.

How lucky that you were.

“Are you kidding!? I’m dying!!!” JJ screamed with excitement when she saw the watch Hotch bought her. Apparently, she loved it.

“It’s nothing.” Hotch gave JJ a small smile as she gave him a brief hug of thanks.

“Oh, cuties!” Garcia smiled.

“You know, I get to give a gift to my favorite cutie.” You approached Garcia.

“Shut up! Really!?” She squealed with excitement.

“Here you go.” You handed her a small box.

“AAAAH! How exciting!” With joy, the blonde with glasses unwrapped her gift.

“She seems quite excited.” Spencer, to your right, whispered in your ear.

“I hope so, because I won’t be able to buy coffee for a month,” you laughed.

Spencer watched you, feeling a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was because he feared you wouldn’t like the gift he had for you or because you looked so pretty.

He didn’t believe much in Christmas magic, but lately, seeing you in those Christmas colors and scents, it definitely had to be magic.

“It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!” Penelope repeated with euphoria when she saw the video game in her hands. “I adore you!” Penelope hugged you warmly.

“I adore you too, sweetie.” You gladly returned the hug.

“It can’t be, I’m going to play this at work all day.” The blonde said as she released you.

Then she remembered Hotch was in front of her. “I mean—no—you know—” She stumbled over her words.

Everyone laughed at seeing the girl struggling and started to spread out into their own conversations. So you decided to head to the kitchen for some chocolate.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you told Spencer as you got up from your seat.

Spencer thought it was the perfect moment to give you your gift, so he followed you to the kitchen.

The truth was, he wasn’t thrilled about everyone seeing his gift. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything, just… it made him a little nervous.

“I love the decoration.” Spencer commented on the decor in your kitchen.

“Oh, really? I love decorating for Christmas!” You smiled, this season truly filled you with joy.

“Yeah… sure.” Spencer smiled nervously.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” You touched his shoulder, noticing he seemed a bit off.

“Me? Yeah, of course, it’s just that—umm—you know—I—” Spencer stammered. You looked at him puzzled, laughing a little.

“Here.” He handed you a box wrapped in red Christmas paper.

You gasped in surprise. “I’m your secret Santa?”

“Hmm” He nodded.

“Oh God!” You started opening your gift. You realized it was a large pink teapot. “It’s so pretty.” You smiled gratefully, you loved making tea.

“Yeah—well—umm, there are other things inside.” Spencer pointed to the teapot.

You looked at him curiously and opened the teapot. It was filled with small mementos of your friendship.

It had the ticket from the Redskins game you went to when you first met, the ticket from the first time you went to the movies, some colorful bands you used to braid Spencer’s hair from time to time, and many other things that reminded you of memories from your relationship.

This made you a bit emotional, causing your eyes to well up. “It’s so sweet.” You looked at him with misty eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry.” He whispered and used his thumb to wipe away a couple of tears rolling down your cheek.

“It’s just that—I don’t know, it’s so meaningful, it’s so sweet, Spencer, really.” You sobbed. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s okay, I—I thought you might not like it, I wasn’t sure if I should have just bought you the headphones you wanted.” He scratched his neck nervously.

“Are you kidding? This is perfect.” You set the teapot on the counter to hug him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his chest.

Spencer tensed a little but immediately returned the hug, soaking in your scent.

You pulled back slightly from the hug, not completely, so you were quite close.

“You know what could be the best Christmas gift ever?” He whispered against your lips.

“I have an idea.” You whispered back.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Hmm” You nodded as you leaned closer to him.

“It’s good we have the same ideas.” He finished by pressing his lips to yours, in a kiss as soft and sweet as the first sip of hot chocolate on a winter morning. It wasn’t a hurried or stolen kiss, but one full of meaning.

As the kiss continued, the world stopped. The laughter and Christmas carols in the background faded away with the touch of his lips.

Christmas was definitely magical.

[sleepyangelkami]

Hello, I just wanted to say that I loved what you wrote about Dick Grayson, I hope you continue to write more about him, I love him so much.

CALLER ID d.grayson

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3K

DICK GRAYSON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - when dick was on patrol, he got an unexpected message from you. however, no matter how hard you try to brush him off, your boyfriend always seems to know when there's a problem and what to do about it.

 ☆ WARNINGS - mentions of violence, jason's attitude problem, crying, reader has insomnia, petnames, use of 'good girl' (non-sexual), intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

patrol was so slow tonight.

it was times like these where dick dazed off at something he couldn't quite make out, a far away building or even something in the sky. his thoughts drifted to you, his sweet girlfriend that had barely whined when he removed her arms from around him, stating that he just had to get to patrol. however, as soon as he was heading out the door, suited up, you'd rolled over and fell back to sleep.

dick loved everything about you, from your sweet personality down to the way you look in his shirts. and boy, did it take him a lot to be able to leave you alone when you looked so pretty in one of his white shirts.

he hadn't even realised that he'd been swinging his escrima sticks around, literally yawning while waiting for someone or something to come out. he was only itching for a fight. "chill out." came from the snappy jason who was leaning against the wall, a literal book in his hands. "you're gonna take someone's fuckin' eye out with that thing."

"are you reading, little wing?" a smirk quirked on his face even from behind the mask. he couldn't help but find it amusing that while waiting for someone to come along to bash their head into the concrete ground, jason had stopped for a little reading time.

but jason seemed in no mood for any games. "fuck off." it was apparent that he didn't want to be here from the start, grumpy as ever and losing enough sleep as it was but sheesh. dick had to roll his eyes, wondering if his brother should just get a lobotomy or something. he wondered if jason would be happier, less snippy. he wondered if jason would stare at him like a dead corpse walking, though he had to question was that better than the stinking attitude that he used now.

the sound of a ding! from his phone caused him to pull it out.

little love do you know what time you'll be home? read, just now.

dick glanced to the time on his phone, it read three thirty. one problem, you had work at six.

dickie!! i'm not sure darling everything okay? read, just now.

with nervousness seeping into his veins, he watched as your text message bubbles appeared, disappeared, appeared again, disappeared again and finally appeared again.

little love im okay be safe, love you read, just now.

but for dick, that simply wasn't enough.

he glanced to jason who didn't so much as look up from the cream coloured pages.

then, dick glanced out to the open streets of gotham, filled with... nothingness. it was one of those nights where nothing happened and they sat positioned on the rooftop of the tallest building in all of gotham. i mean, nothing had happened all night so surely, jason would be fine on his own, right?

before thinking, dick's fingers were pressing against the screen, typing up your contact and then pressing the phone to his ear. this caught jason's attention however dick merely walked further away so that he wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. although, he didn't seem too interested, rolling his eyes, presumedly of the fact that he was merely jealous that grayson had love and he was stuck reading a romance book, then looking back down at the pages and flicking one over.

it wasn't until the fourth ring that he heard the echo from your side. "hey, baby." he muttered tiredly, just knowing you were there was a kind of relief.

"hi." he heard your voice through the phone but you didn't seem as chirpy as normal. if anything, there was a slight sniffle to your tone, as though you'd been crying.

it didn't take a vigilante to figure that much out. he assumed that was why you'd taken so long to answer, trying to stop yourself from sounding all sniffly. but even if you had, dick still knew you better than anyone else in gotham. "it's late." he spoke, kicking a pebble against the ground. "why're you up?"

then he heard it, those dreadful two words that had you tearing up at the mere thought of it. "can't sleep." and dick knew that it wasn't just the type of 'can't sleep' due to the fact that you were on your phone or too engrossed in a book or tv show. it was the type that screamed at him right in the face.

your insomnia.

dick had found out about your insomnia before you were even officially together. he remembered seeing you all down so much, eyes half lidded as you stared at the glass of water in front of you, looking at it as though it were a science experiment. at first, when you walked in looking like that he assumed it was because you were upset about something. and dick being the respectful gentleman that he was, he chose not to ask about it as he didn't see it fit to be his place. however, when you came rubbing your temple, placing your head on the table he soon realised it was much more than that.

the insomnia you suffered with was enough to bring you to tears, as it was now.

"oh, baby." his tone turned soft, ready to comfort. "have you tried the weighted blanket, hm?" that always seemed to help when he wasn't there to wrap you up.

unfortunately, you only made a displeased sound. "mmh, too warm." where dick was standing, the heavy breeze on his shoulders, he wished it was he that was too warm rather than the cold that enveloped him now.

either way, he still pitied you, cooing softly. "i'll be right there." he spoke through the phone but before you could protest, he was speaking again. "I love you."

he couldn't see you, but he could imagine the soft look coming over your features. "I love you too but―"

"see you soon, m'love."

and you were cut off.

he turned to jason who was still with his back against the wall, stupid book in his hands. "the missus alright?" he spoke boredly, still flicking the page as though he had no actual interest in dick's love life.

but dick knew better than that. as disinterested as he may have liked to look, dick knew he secretly liked you, and that was a fact. jason never liked the girls dick dated, never liked much to do with dick but you, he knew you were good for him. "yes but i have a favour." and by the time he was looking up from the book, dick was already giving him them big begging eyes.

he rolled his eyes, turning over the corner of the page. many believe that turning the corners is destroying them, jason would have to beg to differ, it was loving them. "what is it?"

"patrol is slow tonight."

"it is."

"do me this one favour, little wing, please?"

"say it."

"you really like destroying my pride, don't you?"

"It's a little entertaining, yes."

and so that was how the man had rid himself of the nightly patrol. dick didn't like asking for favours nor did he do it often. perhaps that was why jason had let him off so easily this time. or perhaps it was because he knew that dick would soon owe him the same favour in response. 

whatever the case, dick still found himself jogging down the street, your guys’ shared home on wide display. he couldn’t help but smile at the mere sight of it. thinking about it just made his heart swell, you and him, in your very own home. dick didn’t particularly believe in fairytales but if he did, this was sure to be one of them.

he pushed open the front door, taking in the silence that hung heavy in the house but the various lights that you’d left on, a god awful habit. usually, he’d great you with that funny, playful “honey, i’m home!” holding his jacket and bag out, waiting for you to come running into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and holding onto him as though you would never let him go on patrol again.

sometimes, he wished he could give you that.

it was no surprise that you were innocent to the world. you hadn’t seen nor faced the dangers he had, you hadn’t looked death in the eye like him. and for that, he was glad. your soul was too pretty to get scarred. 

instead of the usual playfulness, he merely mulled his bag over towards the living room door, deciding to leave it there until morning. It was filled with his nightwing costume along with his weapons and so on. but dick didn’t believe in carrying that around you. more often than not, he’d leave it somewhere along the door so that he could hide it in the back of his wardrobe when you were busy.

of course, you knew he was nightwing but that didn’t mean he wanted to toss around that danger around you.

he shuffled the shoes off of his feet, now clad in a grey hoodie along with a black sweatpants. the person he was when he wasn’t dressing as a bird.

he was careful not to make too much noise along the stairs to scare you but enough that you could hear he was home, so you were prepared to face him. “baby?” he called out after making the stairs creak, just so you didn’t fear it was someone else out there and not your beloved boyfriend.

instead of a response, he heard a sniffle coming from the bedroom. 

peeling the door open, he stuck his head inside, fluffy black hair peeking in to see you sat atop the bed, grey sheets surrounding you as you sniffled, pathetically. but it didn’t make dick judgemental, when had dick ever been judgemental towards you? instead, his features turned soft.

“hey, hey.” barely in the door and he was already soothing you, though would he really have it any other way? “wh’s the matter?” though he already knew the matter, however that didn’t stop him from sitting himself on the bed, allowing you to wrap your legs around him, sitting atop his lap.

the temperature of the house and the hot skin of your legs was enough to tell him why you’d been so warm.

instead of responding, you sniffled and cried like the crybaby you were. but that was okay, dick didn’t mind having you as his personal crybaby as long as it was he who was wiping away your tears. 

his nose nudged your cheek, attempting to see your face but you only shoved it further into the crook of his neck, not truthfully wanting to face him though how badly you ached for his comfort. “c’mon, lemme see my pretty girl, hm? wanna see your pretty face.” 

the way his hands felt against your waist and your thighs, soothing the plush skin as if trying to coax you to look at him. and it worked, the tenderness that he used and the way everything seemed so… possible. you finally managed to pull your tear-stained face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with that pretty pout of yours.

and didn’t his heart just melt?

even when you were full of tears with a large pout implanted on your mouth, you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. his thumbs were already making a move to soothe your under eyes, wiping away your pretty tears, like diamonds down your cheeks. “there she is, atta girl.” the way he praised you was enough to have your cheeks turning pink, even in your state. 

dick always knew how to fix every problem. 

he was like bob the builder only he was repairing your damaged feelings and little broken heart.

but as much as dick loved taking care of you, his heart did break a little at your tears. your cheeks were passed stained, tears collecting in your under eyes and trickling down your cheeks, softly yet the sniffles still emitted from you. you were his girl, he’d do just about anything to please you and truthfully, seeing you hurt… hurt.

“tell me what i can do.” he whispered against the warm air of the room. he wanted to fix this, he wanted to make sure you slept well but most importantly, he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to cry like this again. “did you take the melatonin?” you nodded your head. “will i make you some tea? run you a bath?” 

you’d been to hundreds of sleep specialists, doctors, so on.

everyone always gave you in around the same ideas. they’d tell you to work out before you went to bed but that was the thing they didn’t understand, it wasn’t because you weren’t physically tired that you couldn’t sleep, you were exhausted. yet it was your mind that couldn’t seem to rest. they’d tell you drink some camomile tea and you’d be on the mend, that was seven years ago.

you sniffled, looking at the one thing that had ever made it easy for you to sleep.

him. 

“jus’ want you.” you mumbled out, thinking you sounded rather selfish. I mean, would anyone disagree? it was unlikely. you’d pulled your boyfriend out of patrol in the middle of the night just so he could help you sleep. you felt downright awful.

but dick? no, his heart was only melting right in front of you, as though you’d just told him that you were adopting a bunny and naming it after him (that’d given you an idea for later). “I’m right here, honey.” he pulled you back towards him again, his hands rubbing up and down your back ever so gently, enough to have you turning to putty at the feeling of his finger tips. 

you sniffled, eventually pulling away and using your arm to wipe your face. “what time is it?” you questioned, now realising that you hadn’t so much as glanced towards a clock in… you weren’t sure how long, you kind of needed a clock to tell those kinds of things. 

his fingers were gently tracing across the softness of your cheek, brushing the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, like they did in those romantic movies. “‘s almost four, m’love.” 

you practically whined at that. “i have work soon.” in approximately two hours. you contemplated not sleeping at all. but you knew that whenever you did that, you surely regretted it sooner rather than later and you’d be taking naps anywhere, through paperwork and in one of those little uncomfortable office chairs.

dick wouldn’t have it. “you’re not going.” he stated briskly to which your brows furrowed. “angel, i’m not leaving you leave the house like this, alright? we both know i make more than enough to support us both until our old age and i know you want to work, that’s okay, but i’m not going to have you breaking your back for minimum wage, got it?” 

slowly, you nodded your head with your teeth wrapping over your bottom lip. “got it.” you mumbled, all flustered.

dick couldn’t help but grin. “good girl.” he then tapped the inside of your thigh. “come on, into bed.” 

and how could you refuse when he spoke to you in that tone that told you whatever he said, goes. whether he was telling you to get outside right now and fly a kite or suggesting bungee jumping in the morning, what did it matter? 

you nodded your head before climbing into the dark grey sheets. you and dick took turns picking the sheets. on his weeks, he’d choose those grey, dark coloured sheets, sometimes black, rarely blues. you always went with pale pink ones or those pretty white ones with little flowers, hearts or so on engraved in it.

you were sure that any pattern on white made your heart just swell.

dick climbed into the bed after you, switching off the lamp light on his way and laying across the comfortable mattress. he helped you move so that your head was positioned on his chest, listening to his lulling breaths and heartbeats, slowly rising and falling as your head moved along with it.

“I dragged you out of patrol.” you mumbled into the dark only moments after the light had been switched off.

dick brushed you off, though he knew that the worry could eat you from the inside and out, like a worm with an apple, rotting it the entire way through, never knowing when to stop. he never blamed you, of course, but sometimes he did curse that beautiful, intricate mind of yours, hoping one day it would decide to treat you a little better. “it was a slow night.” 

you could invision jason all alone, though when you tried to imagine it all you could think of was him either flirting or doing some kind of a ‘dirty talk’ with the enemy, unintentionally of course. everything he said had sort of a flirty tone to it, even with a blood covered face and uttering a death threat, perhaps it was because he’d still somehow manage to slip a petname in. “i’m sor―”

but before you could get the sentence out, his arms were wrapping around your own. “shh, shh.” mumbling as he shook you gently, as though you were a baby. “don’t apologise, princess.” 

you found yourself sighing, snuggling yourself into him as your eyes began to droop, feeling awful heavy, with a yawn, your mouth parted. “you know, i’ve been to so many doctors…” your voice extra low as he could tell the tiredness was taking over your feeble body. “‘n they give me the… worst ideas ever. one of them even told me i should get a treadmill and put it in my room.” he huffed out an airy chuckle. “think i finally found the medicine.” 

his brows furrowed. if you’d had a medicine, how come you weren’t taking it? how come you still lay awake at night when he wasn’t there? “what’s that?” 

poor, oblivious, stupid dick. 

“you.” 

main masterlist/dick's masterlist

[g-hughes]

Small Fry - L. Hughes

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celebration

synopsis: it's the middle of the night and you can't sleep, the only thing that can soothe it, is a late night run for chicken nuggets

word count: 709

warnings: pregnancy, cravings, fluff

It was almost 2AM, and you were wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The windows were open, letting in the soft breeze that was rolling off the lake. Surprisingly, all the boys in the house had gone to bed somewhat early, tired and exhausted after a full day of boating and wake surfing. You had called it a night around 10PM, fully preparing to sleep like the dead after having a long day, however, the growing child in your stomach had other plans. 

You couldn’t sleep, your back ached and you were starving. You were at the point in your pregnancy where no matter what you did, your body ached and no matter how much you ate, you were still hungry. Whoever told you that the last trimester was full of bliss and wonder had lied to you. You had already ventured down stairs once to see if there was anything in the house that would satisfy your cravings, and you were sadly disappointed that amongst the very full fridge and pantry, not a single thing would suffice. 

You considered waking Luke, but you were hoping that the baby in your belly would stop kicking and you would just go back to sleep. He hadn’t moved a single inch despite your huffing, puffing and moving. But the curl haired boy next to you remained sprawled out, his lips parted as soft snores left his mouth. He looked peaceful with the slightest bit of a sunburn across his cheeks. 

You hated how he could just sleep so peacefully while you were being used as a personal punching bag. 

You huffed again, adjusting and sitting up higher in bed, crossing your arms over your growing belly. 

Luke must’ve sensed your unease, as he rolled over, slinging his arm over your belly, “Sleep,” he mumbled. 

"Can't," You sighed, and ran your hands through his curls.

"What's wrong?" Luke was now waking up, and looked up at you with his big blue eyes, "Baby okay?"

"No. I'm hungry, and fat," You said, and Luke sat up, looking at you, "I want nuggets."

"How did I guess," He smiled, and leaned up to kiss you. He pushed back the covers, and rolled out of bed. His pajama pants were slung low on his hips, and he grabbed a sweatshirt from the ground. He walked over to you, helping you out of bed and pulled you up, "Come on, mama. Let's go find you nuggets."

You were thankful that the McDonalds by the lake house was open 24-hours, and so was Luke. Mood swings hadn't been easy on you or him, and he was worried that if he got there and they were closed, it could be a long ride back home. Luke ended up ordering himself something too, and drove back to the lake house. He grabbed the bag of food as you waddled your way down to the dock, the moon high in the sky lighting the way.

The warm Michigan air felt good, as you happily ate away at your nuggets. You and Luke talked about names again, throwing around both girls and boys names since you had decided against knowing the gender.

"Luke," You asked your boyfriend, and he looked at you, "Can I have your fries? Don’t judge me, the baby’s hungry."

"The baby, huh?" Luke smirked, and handed you his fries, "What about. . . Arthur for a boy?"

"Like that bald rabbit from the kids show?"

"Okay guess that's a no. . . Thomas?"

"I like Thomas. For a girl, I still like Eleanor."

Luke smiled softly to himself, he liked the name too. In the back of his mind, he always wanted to name his child after his parents. They had given him everything, they had taught him the game of hockey, drove him all over for the sport and stood by his side during the good times and bad. His only fear was not being half the parent that they were. But as you told him over and over, as long as their child was happy, healthy and taken care of, they were doing their job correctly. 

And a couple months later when their baby girl, Luke knew right away that there was no better name than Caroline Eleanor Hughes.

note: hi, yes, welcome to my hockey blog :) requests are open! and I hope to have a masterlist outline posted soon!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 2

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You sit on the edge of the dock, watching the ripples as the sun drifts up the horizon. You forego the Adirondack chairs so that you can dip your toes in the coolness of the lake. It’s peaceful. The crisp water in the glass adds to the subtle coolness in the air. 

The dirt mulches as you hear someone descending from the house. You can assume who it is before they tramp onto the dock. You continue to watch the sky as you hear Andy sit in one of the chairs. He sighs as he so often does. 

“So, you don’t drink coffee,” he breaks the calm with his gravelly timbre, “how do you wake yourself up for all those early morning lectures?” 

You turn your head and glance over your shoulder. You shrug and look back out at the lake, “I guess I just get through it.” 

“Mm,” he hums and you hear him slurp from his cup. “Bad habit. Better not to have too much caffeine.” 

“Sure,” you agree, “guess I just never had the desire to try.” 

“Sounds like you have self-control,” he tuts, “definitely don’t get that from your dad.” 

You nod and reach for the glass of water. You’re not sure what to say to that. Your dad has a couple beers each night, you know it’s not great, but he’s harmless. 

“It’s nice that you can come up here. I know he was nervous about it. Didn’t think you’d like it,” Andy continues. 

“Oh, yeah, er, thanks for letting me.” 

“No problem,” he replies swiftly, “don’t mind. I’m more concerned about Jacob and his buddies. You let me know if they give you any trouble.” 

“Um, I don’t think they will,” you turn the glass in your hands, “but thanks.” 

“Mm, well I know how boys that age can be,” he intones. 

His statement tweaks your brow. You’re not sure what he means. Jacob and his friends are harmless. They’re like most guys you deal with in college; they talk a big game with each other but in reality, they’re not doing much more than staying up playing video games or some roleplaying table game. None of them are frat material. 

“So do I,” you balance the glass as you stand up, “I’m gonna walk around a bit. Explore before everyone else gets up.” 

“Right,” he sits back and sips his coffee, his shirt still open, exposing his hairy chest as he pays little mind to it, “be careful of bears.” 

“Bears?” You echo, “right.” 

You leave him as your sandals clap loudly. The ominous warning has you on edge. You forgot there would be more than cottage folk up here. You try not to think too much of it. You’ve heard bears usually avoid people. 

You stop by the back deck to leave your glass there for your return and trod back down the steps. You head off around the side of the cottage and to the dirt road behind the vehicles parked in the lot. You peer into the trees that line the way in and swat away the buzzing bugs.  

After another year on campus and with your last one ahead of you, you can’t help but bask in the remote serenity of it all. Your dad promised you a beach day and while your sad not to have friends of your own there to sunbathe with, it will be a good opportunity to do some reading. You continue on your trek until you feel like you might get lost and turn back. 

As you come back in sight of the porch, the morning birds tweet their good mornings. You hate to go back inside. You’re usually a homebody but up here, you could never put another foot indoors and be content. 

You climb the stairs of the deck and follow it around to the back. You grab your glass and the last mouthful of now lukewarm water. A distant splash draws your eye and you stare out at the empty dock, the water ringed and rolling towards the horizon. 

You stare out, trying to find the disturbance. It breaks through the water as Andy’s head pops up from the water and he pushes back his dark hair. He wades around, stretching his arms wide as he kicks himself through the shallow. 

You should go inside but the soft pink sky keeps you hypnotised. Your eyes flick past the body in the water as the sun warps the sky in shades of violet and pink through the stringy clouds. It’s like a painting. You peer up at the hues and grip the glass as the subtle blue slowly edges out the other colours. 

The water stirs loudly again and your gaze is drawn back to the thud on the deck. You gulp back a gasp as Andy turns his naked back to you and stretches his arms wide. From there, you can only make out his form, grateful that his finer features are left vague. 

You quickly retreat from what you shouldn’t have seen. You should’ve just gone inside. You go around the front so that you don’t give yourself away with the door.

Forget it. No big deal. It’s just a mistake. As long as he doesn’t know, it’s nothing to worry about. 

[mysunshinetemptress]

How long till I see Heaven

Leah Williamson x cowgirl!reader

Warnings: None

You return to the Ranch and back to work like you had never even caught a glimpse of the heaven that was Leah, as she returned to England and back to training for the upcoming England features back to training mode no distractions no cowgirls.

The one thing you both had in common though was every waking moment you couldn't stop thinking of the other and the short time you both shared. Yet it's months later when Leah sees a glimpse of you, Leah scrolled through Instagram mindlessly. Training for the upcoming features had her in a focused frenzy. Then, a sudden stop. There you were, grinning alongside Mitch, both caked in red dust, your hand resting casually on his shoulder, with Dakota wrapped in Mitches arms: "Congratulations to this buckaroo on another win! Thank you Y/n/n for being his rock and keeping him safe out there!"

A laugh, sharp and humourless, escaped Leah's lips. Safe? You, with your gentle eyes and calloused hands, had become the most dangerous thing in her world. A world that had shrunk to the confines of the training gym and the echoing emptiness of her flat. Every burpee, every lift, was fueled by a phantom memory - your laugh under the Nashville sky, the brush of your fingers as you'd passed her a beer.

The ache in her chest intensified. Months had crawled by since Leah had boarded the plane back to England. Reality had slammed shut, leaving the Nashville summer a bittersweet memory. She'd thrown herself into training, but the fire that once fueled her competitive spirit felt like a dying ember.

With trembling fingers, Leah tapped the comments section. Hundreds of congratulations poured in, but her eyes snagged on yours. A single, short comment: "Always a team. Time to head home and get ready for the next one." A team. The word sent a jolt through her. You weren't just a fleeting memory; you had a life, a purpose, a team. And she was just a passing ship for god sake you guys only spent a few hours together, she shouldn't be this hung up on you.

Leah stared at the screen, the weight of your comment settling in her gut. A team. It was true, you weren't some fantasy she'd conjured. You had a life, a world that existed far beyond that whirlwind Nashville night. Shame burned hot in her cheeks. Here she was, pining over a girl she barely knew, clinging to a few stolen moments.

A tiny spark flickered amidst the embers of her dulled spirit. "Time to head home and get ready for the next one." Your words echoed. Maybe that was what she needed too. Not just physically returning to England, but rediscovering the fire within herself, the one that had propelled her to the top.

Taking a deep breath, Leah pushed away from the phone. She wouldn't let this consume her. She couldn't a few hours in your presence wouldn't have her falling so hard, it shouldn't have her falling so hard.

Meanwhile, on the ranch, your phone buzzed with a notification. A new comment on Mitch's win post. A simple emoji - a single burning flame. It was from Leah, and a thrill shot through you. Leah was watching.

The next few weeks were a blur of focused training on both sides of the Atlantic. You were doing your daily ranch jobs with your father's ranch hands while helping Mitch train in your downtime Leah rediscovered the joy of the game, her passes sharper, her shots more powerful.

It had been months since the two of you had talked, months since you had seen Leah's face in person let alone heard her voice but, you hadn't expected to open Instagram to a message request from her. "Fancy coming to watch a football match."

You hesitate for a moment, replaying her comment and the burning flame emoji in your mind. You wrestle with conflicting emotions. Should you respond? She's giving you a chance to see her again.

As the week drags on with no response from you Leah begins to doubt if she should have ever sent the message but with England set to play a friendly in Kansas City against the USA the thought of possibly getting to see you again had driven her actions.

You take another two days to respond "Is it actual football or that thing you call soccer."

Leah laughs relief flooding her sense at your response "Rude, will you still come if it's my version."

You can't help but smile at your phone sitting on the side of the ring as Mitch gets thrown off the young stallion you're both trying to break in.

"I don't know the rules." Leah laughs out loud in front of her international teammates and best friends "What you laughing at." Georgia moves trying to see Leah's phone screen "No one just trying to sort out who is getting tickets for our upcoming US game." Georgia looks at Leah trying to read her before turning back to Lucy.

"All you have to know is you want me to win." You smile at the screen as Mitch shouts at you from the ground "Alright give me that your turn to get thrown."

You don't get to respond as he takes your phone pushing you towards the stallion before looking down at your screen and smiling "Alright I'll come, but I'm going to need a ticket for Mitch."

[itaipava]

— soft moments with lando norris.

the two of you were chilling on the couch when lando suddenly asks to take a picture of you both to test out his new polaroid camera. as you inch closer and put your arms around each other to pose for the camera, a thought comes into your mind and that is to catch him off-guard by tickling him just as the camera clicks. little do you know he had the same plan brewing in his mind. the result is a picture of you two bursting out laughing. and lando keeps the polaroid picture in his wallet so that he can look at it whenever he misses you.

on lazy days when you’re both bored, he likes to do your make-up, letting you straddle him on his lap while he sits on the couch or a chair. sometimes, you playfully tickle him or interrupt him by placing multiple kisses all over his face just because you can. he tries to look annoyed but he can’t stop a shy and bright smile from appearing on his lips as he orders you to stop messing around and to stay still but before he continues, he gives you a peck on the lips, claiming that “you missed that spot earlier.”

one day, you’re giggling at something he said, looking ahead at the colorful sky painted by the setting sun. little do you know that he’s staring at your side profile, completely lovestruck. with a smile on his face, he cups your cheek and guides your face towards him as he leans in. it’s a sweet kiss, neither able to stop yourselves from smiling into the kiss.

it’s 3 a.m, the two of you lying in bed, him in your hoodie, you in his sweatshirt. both sleepy but not enough to actually fall asleep. and honestly you don’t want to. sharing earbuds as you listen to your favorite songs from your late-night playlist. admiring the way the dim night-light falls on each other’s faces as you gaze at one another with tired eyes and soft smiles.

him gently caressing your body with his fingers in the morning while he waits for you to wake up, then smiling at you and saying a soft ‘hi’ when you open your eyes to sleepily gaze at him.

him resting his chin in his palm as he listens to you ramble about your favorite things even though he’s confused as hell and doesn’t really understand. but the little smile on his face and his bright eyes is evident that he just enjoys listening to you talk.

playing and dancing in the rain when it starts pouring in the middle of your date on the rooftop; splashing at each other, spinning together like the goofballs you are; him falling in love all over again as he watches the way your eyes crinkle while you laugh; and you falling in love all over again as you watch his smile widen while he looks at you. in the back of your minds, both of you know that you’ll question your decision when tomorrow comes and you get sick but right now, nothing else really matters as you let yourselves get lost in the moment.

it’s the feeling of walking into your home after being outside for a long time during a winter day, being greeted by his warm embrace, and feeling instantly at home. he makes you two hot chocolate and you sit on the couch, sharing a fluffy blanket while you watch something or talk about your days or anything that comes to mind.

it’s him trying his best to quietly and gently adjust something around you when you’ve fallen asleep: taking off your glasses, securing the blanket around you, pulling the open book away so that you don’t bend the pages and bookmarking it for you, etc.

you go to an arcade together and see two kids playing a game, they say it’s too hard and you two just exchange looks like “bullshit, we can handle it”; but when you two start playing the game, you both realize that those kids were really overreacting, because the game is harder than they said. you two barely blink as you try to finish the game and you just realize you’ve gone too far when one of the arcade staff says they’re closing and you two need to leave. you look at each other, knowing that tomorrow you will come back to finish this damn game..

it’s you two going to your favorite places and starting make funny stories for each person in the place, like a man asking for strong black coffee probably hasn’t slept in two days, or a tired looking woman probably has three cats and one of them is called a smelly cat.. you two just realize how far you’ve gone when your stomachs start to hurt from laughing so hard.

[noiriarti]

Just Practice: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Modern Best Friends AU) Ch. 2

Summary: Anakin is your best friend, the one person you can't survive without, and you're about to go to different colleges. You bring up your worries about your inexperience and he offers to help.

NSFW!!!!!!! Literally so NSFW!!! TW for mentions of choking and degradation

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Bonus Chapter

Chapter 2: An Inescapable Fact

Anakin Skywalker was in love with his best friend. It was an inescapable fact, the same way that the sky was blue, and the Earth was round. Another fact was that he had made out with and practically came on his best friend. He didn't really know what he had been thinking, or if he even had been thinking, but, after he left, all he knew was that he wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Maybe he liked it a little too much. When he walked down the front steps of your house with his mom, picked up his bike from your lawn, and dashed up to his room to "finish packing," he not-so-subtly palmed himself, his hand lingering on the front of his jeans, where you were grinding against him minutes (minutes!!!) ago. It took him all of thirty seconds to take care of it, imagining you were still on top of him. As he lay there, panting, his hand covered in cum, he wondered if you were doing the same thing. (You were, of course, but he didn't know that.) He pulled out his phone with his clean hand and typed out a message. Hey. His phone dinged less than a second later. Hey, you had sent back. Now he was left wondering what the fuck a person is supposed to say to their best friend who they're in love with and just "for practice" made out with? 

That was great. No, too eager.

That was hot. No, weirdly horny.

How are you? No, too nonchalant.

I've been in love with you since seventh grade and I can't imagine life without you so please don't stop being my friend and if you want to be more I'd really enjoy that but no worries if you want to stay just friends. Jesus Christ.

We should do that again. Passable. Send. 

And so he waited for you to respond. And waited. And then stood up and cleaned himself up. And packed a bit. Eventually, later in the night, his phone pinged and he dove across the room to check it, but it was a notification from Instagram that one of his teammates had sent him a post. Anakin tossed his phone back on his bed with a little bit more force than necessary, then threw more of his shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. Another hour passed, and there was still radio silence from you. He opened his texts and stared at your exchange for a bit. It was still unread.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I crossed a line and it obviously is making you uncomfortable. I enjoyed what we did, and I'd like it to continue, if you want. If not, that's chill. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, and how you're feeling, and if you still want me in your life. Please-- he drafted, stopping suddenly when he saw the Read notification pop up. He deleted the entire thing with shaking hands. What were you going to say?

Those three dots in the bubble were literal torture, he decided. Being stretched on the rack was probably easier than this horrible purgatory of not knowing whether the one person in his life who he couldn't exist without wanted to end their friendship.

Agreed, your text read. He immediately typed out a Are you okay?, which you answered with Yeah, you?. He assured you that he was, and you told him you were going to sleep for the night. Anakin finally put his phone down and asked himself what was wrong with him.

He hadn't felt this way around a girl, well, ever. In sophomore year, Padmé approached him and asked him out. He was so thrilled someone showed interest in him that he didn't think too carefully about it, but he caught feelings for her quickly. She was smart, kind, pretty. All the things a girlfriend ought to be. She made signs for his games, and kissed him with a desire he longed for. Everyone knew that she loved him, especially him. That's what made it gut-wrenching, because there was always something he was looking for that he could never find with her. Something he was missing. Little things killed them, like when she bought him cranberries and didn't know that he hated them, or when he realized her parents would never approve of him, no matter how hard he tried. He was always the captain of the soccer team who lived in the not-so-nice part of the town, where there were more cows than people, and she was always the genius debater from a house that had six bathrooms.

The first time he had sex with her, it was all hands and kisses and whispered praise. The second time, when he was less stunned by the newness of everything, he started feeling it. That wrongness. And it just didn't stop. When he said her name, the word felt foreign on his lips, like he wasn't meant to say it. Once, he brought up doing something more intense, like pulling her hair or smacking her ass, and she said she probably wouldn't enjoy it, but she'd try it anyway. She, in fact, did not enjoy it, and Anakin drove away from her house later that night in his beat-up Toyota feeling like a monster. Everything was just a little off between them. All his fantasies, all his conceptions of how a girlfriend and sex should be were based on how he imagined you would act. He'd know about your sweet tooth and give you the frosting off his cupcake, and you'd give him the pickles off your burger. With Padmé, nothing fit just right, it was a little off. In another world, he thought that he could have choked it down, married her. Had a happy life in a suburb somewhere. She would have loved it.

He found himself responding to her texts slowly, and kept trying to bring himself back to their dates when he zoned out. It didn't work, and, after a teary, bittersweet goodbye eight months after they dated, he was single again. When Padmé got into Harvard in her senior year, his junior year, he congratulated her, and she hugged him, and he knew that they were okay. Maybe he didn't ever really get to know all of Padmé's nooks and crannies because he didn't feel the urge to. With you, it was practically pathological. He hungered for every photo of you, every glance that you threw him. 

Now that he had kissed you, finally giving in to his stupid desires, he knew, with certainty, that this was love. Not a childish crush, not a teenage boy's lust, but love. (And also lust, but that was secondary.) As he fell asleep that night, he decided to tell you that just thinking of you was setting his heart racing now, that he wanted nothing more than to be yours. He'd just do it when he visited you.

When he loaded his whole life (three suitcases, it turned out) into the back of the massive van your parents had rented, he realized you hadn't seen you this morning yet. Your parents were setting up the front, arguing over which highway to take. Why did it matter? There were four hours until the flight. Your parents had pulled out two of your five suitcases, which Anakin dutifully loaded into the back next to his own luggage. You must have packed a whole rack of weights inside them, leaving Anakin sweating after stuffing the trunk.  The pom poms you had made for both of your suitcases (an early going away present, you had said, which made his heart constrict and ache) were laid down like ducks in a row. As your mother emerged with the remaining three suitcases, probably even heavier than the first two, he thanked his lucky stars Coach made them do so much conditioning. That, and the away games gave him practice at waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, a skill that came in useful today.

You weren't a morning person, which he knew, so your absence wasn't a shock, but you coming out of the house looking perfectly awake was. Anakin watched you cast one last look at your house, memorizing its grooves like you didn't already know them by heart, before you turned your gaze to him. Your eyes met, and he instantly looked away. Fuck, you looked pretty this morning. You walked up to him, and he noticed the faintest trace of makeup around your eyes.

"You look nice," he blurted out once you walked up to him. He cursed himself. When had he become so awkward around you?

"Thanks," you said as you smiled back at him. Like nothing had ever happened, like he hadn't kissed your neck eight short hours ago. So it probably meant less to you than it did to him. The cool early morning air soothed the sting of that idea. You climbed into the backseat, wedging yourself in between the various backpacks and Anakin's seat. When he buckled himself in, your thighs were pressed together, just like last night. Anakin's hand itched to bring your legs over his, to grab your knee and kiss you again. But he wasn't going to.

The car ride was calming, only an hour to the airport, and you were the only car on the road. In the dark, early morning, you had fallen asleep almost instantly. Your parents had lapsed into silence, and he was supposed to be only torn up about leaving his mom, but he kept getting distracted by the way your head lolled around the headrest. Eventually, your head fell into the space between you, resting at an angle Anakin thought would need a chiropractor to fix. So, he did what any best friend would. He gently guided your head to his shoulder. It must have been more comfortable for you that way, anyway. He couldn't sleep, hyperaware of your every movement like he had never been before. Heart fluttering and hands antsy, Anakin managed to survive the drive. Once you got to the airport, and your parents called your name, you jolted up, and he missed you immediately. If he thought separating before would be hard, he had fucked up last night and made it a thousand times worse. Not that he regretted it, really.

The five of you made it through check-in (another lifting of the bags, which broke him into a sweat he hoped looked rugged and not gross) and security (where every single one of his bags was pulled aside because he was carrying some of his projects, which, okay, did have a lot of wires and chips in them, but he was an engineer, dammit, not a bomber). By the time you had dragged yourselves to the gate, the sun had risen. Your flight was first, straight to LaGuardia, then Anakin and Shmi would get on the plane to Ithaca just an hour later. You still had two hours until the flight, which the two of you spent in McDonalds getting one last Icee (cherry for Anakin, blue raspberry for you), drinking it until Anakin's stomach hurt from the sugar. It was like the previous night never happened, and neither of you mentioned it, dodging the topic and filling every silent moment with some comment about a tourist dropping all their bags or some mom with a child on a leash. When the first boarding call came from your gate, only ten seconds' walk away from your current perch next to some chargers on a wall, he knew your parents would want you back soon. He only had a minute, and you sensed it too. The sun was rising, casting its sleepy shine through the windows of the terminal and lighting up a halo of frizz around your head. You were beautiful, he thought. He pulled you into a crushing hug.

"Thank you for being my best friend. Promise you won't forget me?" You whispered to him while still in his bear hug. The tiny voice you used, the fear that question hid were too much for him. He pulled you in tighter, until he could barely breathe. 

"I could never. I'll be your best friend forever," he affirmed. Because that's what you were, above all else. Friends. Anakin had to preserve that, and he wavered on the decision to tell you about his feelings. Your friendship came first. When he walked you back to your gate, the last he saw of you was when you turned back to look at him right before walking through the gangway to your plane. It reminded him of the way you looked at your house before you left, a gesture of love and loyalty. Then you were gone, and he missed you instantly.

Another hour in the airport was dreadfully boring without you, it turned out, and the five hour plane ride was even worse. By the time they landed, Anakin was practically ready to jump out of the emergency exit, just for the entertainment of it. Everything he did was tinged with the slightest bit of disinterest. The book he packed, The Art of Electronics, proved to be dreadfully dull, and his phone was similar. There was only one person he wanted to hear from.

When they landed in Ithaca's airport, Anakin and Shmi loaded into a taxi and drove off to his dorm, which was comfortingly close. Just a hop away, then he could be home. The room itself, when entered, smelled damp and stale but at least looked clean. He and Ben, his slightly older roommate who played professionally in leagues in the UK before coming to college, got on like fire and tall grass, and Shmi practically had to keep reminding them that they, indeed, needed to unpack. 

Around five, he shot you a text.

Anakin: How's your room?

You: Nice, big! Here's a pic

You sent a picture

You: I finally met Ahsoka IRL, and she's just as nice as I thought she'd be!

You: I really like hanging out with her and her girlfriend Barriss

You: What about you?

Anakin: It's good, me and Ben, who's also on the soccer team

Anakin: lmfao that looks tiny

Anakin: We have a common room

Anakin: Feast your eyes

Anakin sent a picture

You: Jesus how have you managed to make it gross already

Anakin: It's not gross

Anakin: The Nicki Minaj American flag is camp

Anakin: And we only need two chairs for the TV

You: Two folding chairs in the middle of the room and nothing else on the walls is unhinged

Anakin: Unfriended

He smiled and set his phone down. Things were back to normal. Now, all he had to do to finish move-in was get thoroughly drunk with his new teammates.

You kept in contact with one another, sending cute squirrels (Anakin) and rats (you) that crossed your paths, or updating each other on your classes. Two weeks in the semester, Anakin finally felt brave enough to ask you. He was sitting on his newly-acquired couch, which you had bullied him into buying off of Facebook Marketplace. It was dingy, and had several stains that made him wonder if it was a crime scene, but it was cheap, and that was what mattered.

Anakin: Hey, can I come over this weekend?

You: Please. I'm going crazy here without you.

Anakin: Can I crash on your floor then?

You: I mean, if you're coming, we could practice a bit more, so you wouldn't have to use the floor

Anakin: That sounds amazing. What do you want to do?

You: I don't know. What do you want to do?

Anakin: I asked first

You: lol idk. It's just weird to talk about this with you

You: Not that I don't enjoy it, or want it. Just still feels weird.

Anakin: I get that, for me too.

You: I don't know if I'm ready to be idk, naked? I guess?

You: But I want to do more

You: I think I want to try giving head

Anakin: You don't have to do anything you don't want to

Anakin: I'd enjoy that a lot

You: g2g to class ttyl

Ben wasn't home, thank God, or else he could have walked in on Anakin stroking himself in the living room like a pervert. The image of your lips around him was too much to resist, even for the second it took him to get up and walk to his room. While fucking his fist, the fantasy escalated. Him fucking your throat harshly, feeling you gag on it. Him using your hair to drag your mouth up and down his cock while your hands were tied behind you. Once he came, he started feeling guilty about imagining you in such a rough situation. Anakin had no idea if you even wanted that, and he vowed to let you take the lead as much as possible. He also felt guilty about leaving another teeny tiny stain on the already suspicious couch when some cum dribbled down his hand, but it kind of blended in.

On Tuesday, he left his electrical engineering course when he got a text that stopped him in the middle of the hall.

You: Hey

You: So I am going to a sex store for the first time today

Anakin: Hey

Anakin: Wow ok exploring nyc

You: Should I get anything for this weekend?

Anakin: Idk, up to you

Anakin: Just choose whatever you want to try

You: ok i will pull up with a massive horse dildo for u then king

You: But seriously, I want to make it enjoyable for you too.

You: Do you have any requests for like outfits or something?

Anakin: fuck all the way off

Anakin: What? Like, shirts?

You: No

Anakin: Oh

Anakin: Whatever makes you feel good

You: But cmon you've got to have a pereference

You: *preference

Anakin: pereference

Anakin: I don't have a pereference

Anakin: You could say I don't perefer anything

You: Fuck off

You: Answer the question motherfucker

Anakin: Idk maybe black lace? Whatever makes you happy

Anakin: I've always wanted to rip fishnets, if that's something you want

You: Sounds like a plan

He liked the message and slipped his phone in his pocket as he bounced over to the student lab, ready to finish the Arduino gadget he was making for class. You in a lacy set sounded like a dream come true, mainly because he was almost certain he had that exact wet dream last year.

The four ensuing days allowed Anakin to think, for once, which was never a good idea. It grew new doubts to stress over. Had he accidentally pushed the idea of fishnets on you? What if you weren't into the stuff he was into, or if you decided you weren't into him enough to be able to do anything further with him, now that the horny initial haze had dwindled? He was considering this again while on the train, watching the upstate countryside roll by. Sometimes it was close enough to Minnesota that he felt like he was home, so he shot his mom a text saying he missed her, and that he'd call her tomorrow. He also had two unread texts from you.

You: Hey!! When you arrive just text me and I'll grab you

You: I'm excited to see you

Anakin: Hey

Anakin: I'm excited to see you too

Anakin: Lots of stories to share

Before he could think better of it, he typed out something he hoped would dull the constant questioning in his mind.

Anakin: Oh

Anakin: Also

Anakin: I feel kinda bad for bringing up something only I'm interested in the last time we talked about me coming over

Anakin: This should be about you

You: Takes two to tango, as they say

Anakin: Never say that again

You: I will say it again

Anakin: Shut up I'm trying to be serious

You: I'm saying that I'm interested in that sort of stuff

You: When I was at the store there were a bunch of things I wanted to try

You: Like wax and ropes

Anakin: Kinky

And, now, the question he had been nervous to ask, or even to think about. 

Anakin: Do you want to try them on me, or for me to try them on you?

You: Definitely you doing that to me

You: I've been doing research

You: There's a lot of stuff I want to try, if you want to practice with me

Anakin: Fuck that sounds fun

Anakin: Like what?

Was he letting his cards show too much? Maybe. It just felt too good not to ask.

You: Degradation, overstim, just idk. Rough in general

You: Down the road maybe rope

Anakin: Damn ok 50 shades of grey

Anakin: You have been doing your research

Anakin: That all sounds good to me, as long as it's good for you

Anakin: I can't wait to get there

The rush of excitement he felt at the idea of tying you up and fucking you until you screamed drowned out the notes he was meant to be reviewing in front of him, and the circuit diagram he was supposed to draw. 

He thought of you splayed out in front of him, covering those slutty lace panties in your juice until it soaked through the other side. He thought about his hand on your neck as you begged him to cum. And--fuck--you gagging on your knees as he thrust into your throat. He was hard--again.

But he had to remember what he was coming here to do, really. To tell you how he felt. He pulled out the piece of paper he had spent the past two weeks writing and rewriting in his mind as he did dribbling drills and soldered wires. There were four drafts in his desk, written out and crumpled into the back of the drawers, because he knew that one look at you in your room, giving him those desperate eyes, would wipe him blank of anything except how much he wanted you. After how platonic you were at the airport, he wasn't sure if he should say anything, because the distance over the next four years would make it so hard to be together, and you hadn't ever talked about long distance. Now, he looked at the paper and didn't know what to think. Did he really want to say words as big as "I love you" so quickly, so soon? The doubt plagued him as he looked over the final version of the letter, which was suddenly sappy and childish.

Since we were kids, I've considered you my closest friend. Someone who made me *me*. I started listening to Fall Out Boy because you did, I peel bananas upside down because you showed me how, and I only eat pepperoni pizza with olives and mushrooms because you've ordered it so much that it grew on me. I treasure you your friendship so much, and those feelings have been changing since we were younger to something more romantic. I don't know when it started, but when we kissed, I knew I loved--

He looked away. Why was he using the word love? He didn't know if you two would even work romantically. What if you went on a date and it felt just like your regular dynamic? What if he was a bad boyfriend, like he was to Padmé, and you didn't want him anymore? Was he about to throw years of your trust away?

He wasn't sure whether to tell you, at all. Anakin just wanted to know if you felt the same way about him, or else he'd lose more than just his pride. He had to give it more time. And, until then, this was all practice anyway. (He was really, really good at lying to himself.) He folded the paper precisely, and stuck it in his pocket. Just in case.

The train slowed with a screeching that rung his ears and arrived at Grand Central. From the moment he left the train, the station was packed with people. Everything was buzzing, from the voices shouting over each other to the side of his arm where someone smacked into him. The air was stale and warm from the bodies, which moved in completely unpredictable patterns through the vast space. If he was this overwhelmed, how were you faring in the city? He made his way to the subway station just a few blocks across midtown, then got on the 1, which was surprisingly clean based on everything he had heard about New York. Anakin half expected to be pickpocketed and to see rats on the trains, but the plastic yellow and red seats playfully shined at him, clean and inviting.

Before long, he found himself on Columbia's campus at sunset, walking through the buildings which all looked a little bit too similar to find your dorm. Carman Hall, there it was. Anakin texted you that he was outside and steadied his nerves. He would finally get to see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again, a part of his brain that he dutifully shoved into a dark corner said.

Three minutes passed--he was looking at his phone clock for every one of the--and then the entrance clicked open. There you were. You looked amazing, and city life clearly agreed with you. You were wearing a simple denim skirt and green shirt, but you looked incredible. You had added a few ear cuffs, glinting in the dwindling sunlight, which cast your skin in a warm glow.

"Hey," he said into your temple as he crushed you back, "You look--wow." He pulled away and grabbed your shoulders, examining if you were still the person he knew. You were, he determined when you beamed at him. Your hand was still the same as he remembered when you flashed an ID badge, featuring a photo he had taken against a wall in your house, at the bored-looking security guard, who just waved you two by.

Anakin had just started telling you about how one of the midfielders, Rex, kicked the ball directly in the coach's crotch, when the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, and he followed you down a winding hallway full of nameplates, whiteboards, and decorations. One room had construction paper black cats and pumpkins all over the door, which made him stop and smile. You stopped in front of a door that had fake leaves stuck to it, making it look like a tree was dropping paper leaves onto the floor. You unlocked the door, which groaned as it opened to show exactly the room you had sent him photos of, but with significantly more clutter on your desk.

"Welcome! This is my humble abode!" On the other side of the room, the girl sitting on her bed, cast him a withering glance. She had wide, doe-like eyes that he was sure probably hid a lot of mischief. Her hair was styled in twists she had gathered into pigtails that tumbled over her shoulders, with a string of beads woven into the crown of her head.

"This must be Jake," the woman he presumed to be Ahsoka said, scrutinizing him with her piercing eyes. Jake? Who the fuck is Jake? Anakin wondered as he tried to read your reaction. You spluttered, obviously not ready to have that piece of information revealed yet.

"No, no, this is Anakin! From home!" You put on a strained smile in an attempt to salvage the situation.

"So, you're not dating?" Ahsoka quirked up one eyebrow, not buying for one second that whatever she was seeing in front of her was platonic.

"No, not at all. I could never date him, he's my best friend!" You said too loudly, forcing the words out. Perfect. Just perfect. That solidified his decision. If you were friendzoning him this hard, and you were obviously trying to practice for this Jake guy's sake, then there wasn't any point in what he was going to say. The paper in his pocket was so easy to crush under his fingers, he almost wished he had done it sooner. It was stupid, anyway. This wasn't anything more than two people exploring new things. His feelings would pass, eventually.

Ahsoka shrugged and hugged you goodbye after she slipped off the bed and grabbed an overnight bag. She left, presumably for Barriss's room, and closed the door behind her.

In the silence left in the room, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Who's Jake?, he would ask nonchalantly. Like it didn't matter. Anakin stopped himself. It wouldn't do him any good to know more. Instead, he kept recounting the story of Rex making the whole team run sprints for the day with his crazy aim, albeit with less enthusiasm. In return, you told him about the suck-up in your Intro to Psychology course, who gushed to the professor that he loved his work and was his biggest fan. It was literally a 101 class, what was he trying to prove?

Anakin's pack lay forgotten by the door as you two recounted your weeks to one another, and for a moment it didn't feel like a new city, it just felt like home. He didn't even realize that it was night until you pointed it out, mentioning that you missed the stars that you could see from your yard. And the fireflies. But the city lights twinkled nicely enough that he couldn't see  a difference. You lapsed into silence, watching students walk out onto the street as stores pulled down their shutter doors. The bed was to your left as you stood watching the window, and your eyes glanced to it. 

"So, um. Want to watch some Netflix?" You said in your best approximation of a sexy voice, turning to your right and looking up at him in a way that you hoped was seductive. Anakin looked at your face and burst out laughing.

"If you want to do stuff, just ask!" He raised the pitch of his voice, imitating yours as he bit his lip fake-sexily. "Netflix and chill?" You grabbed one of the copious pillows on your bed and hit him with it. He caught it immediately and lobbed it back at your head, but you ducked at the last possible moment, so it hit the bed with a thump.

"Missed!" You giggled. That sweet laughter would be the death of him. When you caught your breath, the sweet smile he had stole your breath. 

"Um, do you want to... practice?" You asked. In truth, you wanted him, badly. Your eyes flitted down to his lips, which he immediately noticed and took as his cue to use the last of his willpower to make sure you were okay with this before kissing you silly, and hopefully doing more. Much more. He stepped closer to you, drawing you in with his arms around your waist.

"Just so that I'm perfectly clear. You don't have to do anything that makes you feel the slightest bit weird. We don't have to do anything now, at all. Or ever, if that's what you want," he said huskily.

"No, I do want this," you whispered, nodding and leaning in so that you were nearly touching noses, "I want you down my throat." Fuck. There went his self-control. He crushed his lips into yours, the softness of the previous time eclipsed by the need in both of you that had been building in between texts for the weeks you had been apart.

No. You had to talk this through. He had to know that you understood what you were getting into. Anakin pulled away, even though it killed him.

"We should talk more. No touching until we're done talking," he said, holding his hands up to prove that he was serious.

"Fine. But you're going to break first. I'd bet anything." You also held your hands up, defiant as ever. He was seized with the urge to make you obey him, and quieted it down as much as he could.

"Fine. I'll take that deal. Just, let's talk first. You said that you wanted to try rougher stuff, and I don't want to do that before I'm certain I don't cross a boundary," he said. He thought of himself last year, the guilt over Padmé.

"What boundaries could you possibly cross? I'm asking you to be rough." Anakin was still worried.

"Yes, but it's your first time giving head. I don't want to make it uncomfortable. Or, if I cross a line and can't tell... I just want to keep you safe. How about you tap me twice for good to go, three times for slow down, and four times for stop?" You nodded, giving him those same big eyes that made him want to absolutely ravish you. The time between you stretched, turning pliant and gooey as he searched your eyes for uncertainty. "Show me," he purred. He had poured some of the commanding tone into it that he wanted so desperately to use. You obediently tapped out the sequence on his arm, and he tossed you a smirk. 

"Okay. First of all, I won. You touched me first," he said, enjoying the way you were about to fight him on it, "And, second of all, shut up and kiss me." And you did.

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AN: Oh we are getting raunchy in the next chapter buddies!!!

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