#don’t make me count them i am bad at math!!!

[percentstardust]

i now write 4/5 of king viserys’ children and 3/4 of alicent’s children.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst��case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[anemoiashifts]

why you should get off social media if you want to shift.

before you scroll away, i want to challenge all of you to read all of this. this is one of my longest blog posts ive ever made with over 1,000 words. if you can or can’t make it through the whole post, please let me know how far you’ve gotten in the comments below. you’ll get a surprise at the end 🥳 !

social media isn’t an inherently bad thing. however, outside & inside of the shifting community social media (specially tiktok) has been shown to effect our attention span. this shows in my comment sections on my longer tumblr posts that i also share on tiktok, such as this one, when people say things like “im not reading all of that” or “can someone summarize” also “what method should i use” and “why am i not shifting”.

let’s start with the basics of shifting. shifting attempts need some kind of focus; an affirmation, a visualization, some sort of task like counting. if you’re someone who struggles to focus, you will struggle to learn how to meditate or any hobby or task you’re tying to accomplish. all shifting methods are is a meditation. while no, you don’t need a method, I would make the argument learning how to meditate & focus your attention to what you are trying to manifest is an important part of shifting. if social media creates an instant dopamine reward without little effort, the appeal of shifting seems less. this is why i think a lot of people actually like thinking about shifting & creating content for it rather then doing it — because trying to shift requires some level of work without instant reward even if it’s as simple as laying down & setting intention.

if you try to shift & you wake up in your cr still, that isn’t as exciting when comparing it to the idea of shifting. rather, if you post an edit or a video about your dr you will receive a dopamine hit through video interaction (comments, likes, how social media platforms are set up in general). even maladaptive daydreaming can fall into this category to some. the interest in attempting to shift dies because we feel like we aren’t gaining anything from it when that’s not true. when laying down & attempting to shift, we are meditating & training the brain to focus on what we desire most: we’re correcting our attention span.

social media destroys the ability to focus & what we focus on & give our attention to allows room for that desire to grow, to become reality. if we’re always so overwhelmed with information & have so much to stress about, it’s important to recognize what we consume & how it effects our mood & mental health & how it can sometimes delay our manifestations. im not saying you have to be positive all the time, but we’re exposed to so much that it’s important to check in with yourself every once in a while. this can be where shifting content comes into play vs non shifting content. think demotivation, you don’t look for it, it just appears. & how many times have you opened tiktok to look something up to only be distracted by a completely unrelated video that automatically started playing ?

what i mean is people are telling you what shifting is, what works for them (which you could register subconsciously & believe that’s a step by step guide), rather then self discovery. people are telling you what shifting is, how to do it, what to think, what to script, what method you need to do, even if they say “this may not apply to everyone” because of how it’s being presented & spoken about. the said popularity of a method or definition may also come into play & feeling like something has to be right or work because other people align with it. its like math class, the teacher shows you one way to solve a problem then says “your allowed to use your own methods” & shows you one example of it then goes back to using the original method in class that you don’t understand.

another reason is opinions. when being shown so many people speaking on shifting & their thoughts it can be overwhelming. it’s a great thing so many people are willing to talk about their experiences in their desired reality or want to share their personal breakthroughs & opinions on what shifting is, it can be confusing. while everything i just listed is well intended, leaning about shifting through places like tiktok & not venturing out & doing your own research — or just searching methods online & trying it yourself while going in blind — it takes away self discovery.

so, how do we learn about shifting ?

when i say get off of social media, i don’t exactly mean all social media. yes, all of these things happen across the internet but the difference with tiktok is that the fyp isn’t so prominent. this of course also applies to other feeds that are generated, but a lot of the shifting community is ok tiktok so im using the most known example. it’s important to search & decide what information you consume & seek out rather then being told something without stopping to think for yourself. you want the chance to be able to create your own thoughts. your own unique thoughts you have about things make them personal & your own beliefs become stronger when you realize things on your own. it’s more satisfying that way.

places like reddit & searching for questions you specifically have so you don’t have ten more questions shoved in your that you didn’t have before that cause you added worry or unnecessary fear is helpful to keep in mind.

there is room for grey area. not everything needs to be black & white. there should be no consciousness vs multiverse theories because two things can both be true at once. Ike thing doesn’t have to be against something, you don’t have time pick a side. it’s all theory & hypothetical. it’s okay that we 100% don’t know (& will probably never know) what shifting truly is. not everything needs to be discovered to preform it “correctly”. you don’t need to be a master at painting to paint, you don’t need to know how paint brushes are crafted or how canvas is stretched to preform, anyone can sit & learn as they create their first & second & tenth piece. even people who have painted & sold their artwork for millions, don’t know the great’s techniques. they know pieces of them & take what works & discards what doesn’t serve them.

this post isnt to negate any of the good social media has done or sound like my mom & preaching about how social media destroys your brain…but i think we should be mindful of what we consume & how it makes us feel & if we’re speaking for ourselves or parroting others words. there are so many great people & advice out there & im not trying to take away from that. i just think taking a moment to stop & digest what we’re seeing is healthy. this blog post has been a long time coming but i know a lot of people wouldn’t want to hear it. i can promise you, you are more addicted then you think — myself included. i just don’t wake you guys to look back in 10 years & have spent more then half of that looking at a screen when there’s so much life to be lived. i don’t want social media to take away from what we are all here for which when we come down to it is living. shifting is literally wanting to experience life & i can’t help but find it ironic that this is the opposite of everything we wish to accomplish through this practice.

please take care of yourselves. much love.

surprise :) congrats you made it ! here’s your digital slice of cake ! 🍰

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Bleeding Heart Syndrome

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut

Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.

Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?

Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.

“Should we follow you up?”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”

Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.

“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.

“Is something burning?”

“Shit.”

You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.

“Need help?”

“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.

Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.

“Check on the noodles.”

You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.

“It’s ready,” you grinned.

After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.

“I am so sorry,” you giggled.

Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.

“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”

Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.

“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.

“Six times.”

“What?”

“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.

Now

You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.

You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.

Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.

This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?

“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.

“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.

“Eat.”

You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.

“You’re not my dad.”

Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”

“No.”

Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.

“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”

“Or what? You’ll force me?”

Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.

“Yes.”

You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.

“Happy?”

“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”

“Off to kill someone?”

“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”

“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“You want to come with me?”

“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”

“There are many more are work.”

“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.

“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”

You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.

You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.

When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

“Good morning, Tate.”

He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.

“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”

If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?

“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”

“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.

“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.

All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.

You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.

Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.

Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.

Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.

“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”

That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.

“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.

“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”

Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.

“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”

“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.

“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”

Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.

“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.

You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.

“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.

“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”

“Take Steve with you.”

You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.

“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”

You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.

“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.

Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.

He hates that you’re crying because of him.

You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.

“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”

“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”

The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.

“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”

You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?

x

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[bookished]

( a collection of jock x nerd dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <3 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

"You think you're so smart, huh?" "Well, statistically speaking, my GPA says I am."

"Okay, so you're good at math. But can you explain why my heart races whenever you walk into the room?" "Biologically, I suppose adrenaline might— Wait, are you flirting?"

"This is ridiculous. You shouldn’t be lifting me like that!" "Hey, you’re light as a feather! Besides, I just wanted to show you what strength feels like."

"You know, you’d make a great quarterback with how fast you solve problems." "And you’d make a great nerd if you applied that logic to your studies."

"Let me guess, you failed another test?" "Nah, just looking for an excuse to talk to the smartest person in the room."

"You might be a brainiac, but I could definitely teach you a thing or two about confidence." "Confidence? Or arrogance?"

"I don’t understand why you keep sitting next to me in class. You don't even take notes!" "Maybe I’m here for the view… or maybe I trust your brain to get us both through."

"For someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you’re missing something really obvious." "And what’s that?" leans closer "How bad I want to kiss you right now."

"You’re like a puzzle I can’t solve." "That’s because you’re not thinking hard enough." "Maybe I’m just distracted by how cute the puzzle is."

"You’re too focused. Ever thought about focusing on something… or someone… else?" "And who would that be?" smirks "Maybe you should figure that out."

"Bet I can make you blush before you can solve that equation." "Highly unlikely—" blushes "Told you."

"You're not my type." "And yet, here I am, making you smile like I am."

"You look like you could use a break. How about we grab some coffee? My treat." "You sure you’re not just trying to steal my notes?" "Nah, just trying to steal your attention for a little while."

"If you keep looking this cute when you're annoyed, I might just have to irritate you more often." "You’re infuriating." "But I’m charming, too, right?"

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" "I’m serious about getting you to go out with me. That counts, right?"

"You’ve got those smarts, but I’ve got… other talents." "Like what, being a distraction?" "If that's what it takes to get your attention."

"Why are you always bothering me during study time?" "Because watching you concentrate is kinda… hot."

"You know, you’ve got a lot of facts in that head of yours. Think any of them could explain why I keep thinking about you?" "That’s probably an overproduction of dopamine and— wait, are you hitting on me?"

"You're in my space." "Maybe your space is where I want to be."

"I think I just figured out the formula for attraction." "Attraction isn't a formula." "It is when you're involved."

"You know, if I ever wanted to impress you, I’d have to learn some big words, huh?" "It’s not the words you use that impress me… it’s what you do with them."

[narcpixiedreamboy]

Okay I’d like anyone that sees this to blind react and put a finger down for each thing in this list you relate to. There are 9 things. You can comment your score publicly or keep it private, up to you, but I think this might be interesting for some people. Here’s the list:

-Do you tend to take criticism too personally, or gotten unreasonably defensive when someone points out a mistake you made? Do you hate admitting you’ve done something wrong?

-Do you like to daydream about doing something amazing (such as saving people from a burning building, being the one to win your team the game, being an amazing actor in a movie, etc.) and having people recognize you for the great thing you did?

-Do you place in importance on being associated with important or high status things, like trying to date/be friends with the coolest kids in your classes, or choosing to go to a prestigious university over a common state school?

-Do you tell people about things you’ve done specifically to get praise for it? Such as telling your friends about the A you got on that really hard math test, or pointing out your cool new hairstyle, or the drawing you did that you think looks really cool, specifically so that they will compliment you for it?

-Do you feel comfortable prioritizing yourself and what you want/need over other people?

-Have you ever diminished your accomplishments, or been purposefully self-deprecating so that the person will reassure you (i.e. “You’re such a good artist!” “Oh no I’m really not, anyone could do what I do” “No really, your art is amazing!”)?

-Do you find it hard to genuinely care about other people’s problems?


-Do you get jealous easily if, let’s say at a party, your friend is getting more attention than you?

-Have you ever felt secretly happy that someone around you failed or did worse on something than you did? Like maybe you didn’t want your friend to fail their math test, but them failing it did you make you feel a little extra good and proud about the non-failing grade you got on it.

(Scroll for explanation for spoiler reasons)

So what that list was a rewriting of the DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for narcissistic personality disorder, where for each section I filled in one of the ways I actually feel that part of the criteria. So instead of “grandiose sense of self”, I said “bad at taking criticism”, because that’s one of the ways my grandiose sense of self actually presents. If this was the original diagnostic criteria, you would need 5 of 9 to be diagnosed with NPD.

The reason I asked you all to count how many you relate to is that I have seen a lot of egotypicals do this exact same stuff. My goal is to help someone possibly unfamiliar with NPD understand that people with NPD are not the foreign, subhuman monsters that we are so often represented as, but rather people who feel some normal human traits too much.

(Also please don’t use this alone to self-diagnose, it was not made for that)

(Also also, thank you to the people in the reblogs for letting me know I could’ve used the read more feature. I am new to tumblr so tips on how to use it are appreciated)

[casewonnie]

For books and all - Park Sunghoon

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x fem!reader

Summary: the day arrives where one of your favorite book series gets another part of the series and you can't wait to go and get a copy. little did you know it wouldn't be as easy as you think

Genre: dislike to friends, fluff, attempt at humor, chaotic?, talk of books, i dont know how to promote this it came to me in a vision

Warnings: none really, nothing explicit just mild swearing, oh and nonsensical insults, i am cringe but i am free, sunghoon is weird, y/n is weird, both of them have mild anger issues, sunoo is sassy, he also gets dragged and tickled, all of enha are here of course <3 i put the hunger games as the chosen book but you can imagine whatever

Word count: 5.2k

a/n: Hello! First of all, my writing debut wow. Second, thank you for being here and choosing to read my au. I decided to get back into writing, and this is my first ever fic that I finish and actually leaves the vault. I didn't know how to do the text messages so I just left them. If it sucks I apologise it was not beta-read, english is not my first language and I haven't written in a while but I really hope it's not too bad. I also didn't proof read the whole thing. I'm kind of scared to post this.

Sunghoon being chosen for this random prompt was purely based on the fact that I would love to fight him (affectionately, positively)

Any constructive criticism or praise is greatly appreciated. I love interactions.

ENOUGH WITH THE YAP LET'S BEGIN

>The day before the incident<

“Do you know who I love the most?” Niki, the youngest of Sunghoon’s friend group barged in his room all smiles and bright energy. 

“How’d you get in, the apartment was locked.” Sunghoon lived with the rest of his friend group who were currently out and about with him enjoying the peace and quiet, well, up until a minute ago... As the youngest, Niki was still living with his family but he stayed over and hung out with them more times than he can count. This wasn’t a complaint, they all loved him like their own little brother, what concerned him is that he was fairly certain Niki didn’t have a spare key to the apartment and the door was definitely locked, so he had no idea how he got in. 

“You! I love you the most! Also, don’t worry about it I have my ways.” Niki dismissed him like he asked a banal question. 

“That is terrifying?” he replied. 

“Anyways, my dear Hoonie, do you know how much I appreciate and look up to you as an older brother?” oh no. Niki was a sweet and thoughtful kid, wrapped in like a... dark, emo-looking exterior that wasn’t fooling anyone, but when he was this sweet, it usually meant he wanted something... “Okay now I’m really scared. You’re not gonna make me like, do something illegal... are you?” 

Niki let out a laugh. “Don't be ridiculous... I just need a favor.” he assured him. “So... you know the hunger games, right?” 

“You mean one of the most famous book series and movie franchise? Yeah, I’m familiar.” Sunghoon deadpanned. 

“The newest book comes out tomorrow, and I need you to go to the store and get me a copy. I have the money and everything I just can’t go because I have a class in the morning. I asked the others but Heeseung and Jake apparently had some math project to finish and Jungwon said he was supposed to go to a... dora the explorer convention...”  

Sunghoon scrunched his face in confusion, not even wanting to comment on that last one, and then he realized something. “Wait, wait, wait a second... I wasn’t the first person you asked, not even second, but fourth!? What’s up with that?” 

“Oh, well umm, I just didn’t think you’d be up for it that’s all.” Niki didn’t think it would be a big deal to Sunghoon but seems like he was wrong. 

“Of course I’m up for it! I’m wayy up... I’m flying with the birds! I’ve basically turned into a satellite.” Sunghoon tried not to sound offended by his friends’ statement but it may not sound as convincing as he thought. “Whatever!”  

Niki hadn’t said a word, he just kind of stood there with his hand on his mouth, slightly frozen as if his friend would turn him into a shish kebab if he moved. 

Sunghoon got up from where he was laying on his bed to stand in front of Niki, he put his hands on the others’ shoulders and looked him in the eyes, Niki tilting his head backwards now, wondering what he got himself into. “Don’t you worry about a damn thing! I’ll make sure I get you that book. Even if it’s the last thing I do.” he finished the last sentence by shaking the other man back and forth. “I’ll go get it right now!” 

Sunghoon let go and sprinted out of the room as fast as he could, Niki snapped out of the weird trance and realized what was happening. “Sunghoon where are you going?! The book comes out tomorrow!” he ran after him out of the apartment and into the hallway but couldn’t see his friend. “I haven’t even shown you how the book looks like!” he tried but just ended up yelling into an empty hallway. 

“Man, what the hell...” he whispered to himself lightly rubbing the back of his head, huffed and put his hands on his hips awkwardly. “He’s so odd.” he said and went back inside.

>Day of the incident<

This was it. Today was the big day. You have been anticipating this for almost a year and in just a few hours you will get your hands on what would be your most prized possession, because later today comes out the second prequel to one of your favorite book series. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since the news came out, and you even decided to re-read all the previous books and rewatch all the movies. You made a whole event out of it and watched the movies together with your friends Sunoo and Jay, who were big fans as well, maybe not on the same level as you... you had the tendency to get a little too obsessed with certain things... but hey, at least they were supportive. Anyways, the whole thing made you even more excited for the release, which is why you were currently sweating out of your eyeballs trying to think of anything else that will calm you down. 

“Oh god I really need to relax.” you said to yourself out loud, even though you were currently alone in your room because to your disdain, both your roommates had their respective uni classes that morning. Wondering if you should text the group chat anyway, not wanting to bother them, you made yourself some food, got a glass of water and sat down to eat before you started getting ready and decided to message your friends. 

>text messages<

Y/N: GUYS... IM REALLY NERVOUS PLS HELP ME 

Y/N: ignore this if you’re in class 

Jay: Is this about the book that comes out later 

Jay: Also we have like an hour break rn 

Sunoo: oh my god get a LIFE 

Y/N: WHAT THE FUCK SUNOO 

Y/N: and yes my dearest and only friend jay... it is 

Jay: It’s going to be fine don’t worry about it! You’ll get a copy 

Sunoo: this is what having only two friends does to you 

Y/N: STOPPP WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU 

Y/N: yk what i see how it is 

Jay: Hey come on now you two 

Jay: Let’s all love each other <3 

Y/N: Sunoo you’ve just lost all your privileges and are now demoted to “some guy i live with”. from now on you may refer me to Miss Awesome-Sauce or M’lady 

Sunoo: NEVER say awesome sauce again 

Jay: You should’ve gone with pumpkin spice 

Y/N: what? 

Sunoo: and also what privileges lmaoooo 

Sunoo: if its your weekly concerts then im not really at a loss am i 

Y/N: im revoking your... “can i borrow the book” privilege :) 

Y/N: *mic drop* 

Jay: GASP 

Jay: oh no she didn’t 

Sunoo: .... 

Sunoo: Listen... 

Sunoo: My dear, lovely Y/N, my best friend, light of my life, the moon to my sun 

Sunoo: the palm to my tree 

Sunoo: the swimming to my pool 

Jay: I have never heard anyone say those... 

Sunoo: the lip to my stick 

Jay: HELLO???”@#@$% 

Y/N: I feel uncomfortable... 

Sunoo: I have made a grave mistake and from now on I’ll think about my words and how they can affect people. I will take time off of social media to deeply reflect on myself. 

Sunoo: *sends a selfie* 

Sunoo: Me self-reflecting 

Jay: NOT THE LEE MINHO REF 

Y/N: omg who is this DIVA  

Y/N: okay you’re forgiven but only because you’re cute 

Sunoo: I know <3  

>end of text messages<

You turned off your phone now that you’ve calmed down a bit due to you and your friends’ goofy antics. You looked at the clock and realized you had just over 3 hours to properly get ready, catch the bus to go to your nearest bookstore and be there at least 30 minutes before they stock up on the books.  You haven’t done math this much since graduating high school. The next question was what to wear.... I mean it was kind of a special occasion, right? If you could say that. Man, maybe Sunoo was right, you did need to make more friends... Whatever! Now was not the time for that. 

You got ready and got to the bus station 10 minutes early just in case. The ride there was calm with no incidents with you listening to your playlist with songs you loved lately. It was just before 10:30am when you arrived but when you got to the bookstore it was surprisingly... empty. Too empty. Something was wrong.  

Never in your life have you seen the bookstore so free of life before, with a just a couple of customers roaming around. You looked around for the table with new releases and just as you saw it you noticed that, that too... was free of books... umm... okay so they might just have not taken them out yet, that must be it. You asked the bookseller at the cash register and she kindly informed you that the book was in fact, ahem... sold out. 

Your jaw dropped. “There’s no way, you must have some copies left.” you had to make sure you understood right and that this wasn’t a case of miscommunication. “I’m so sorry, we had to open an hour early today and everyone just got here after that. It sold out in like 20 minutes.” the cashier spoke with a little smile, her eyebrows scrunched as if she was looking at a hurt puppy. 

“Can you please check your stock again? Or if I can make an early order if you receive a new batch soon?” you tried the only thing you can think of. Luckily the lady was nice and let you leave your phone number, marked down your order and told you she’ll give you a call if they have a copy left or get new ones. 

“Thank you so much!” oh dear, that wasn’t your plan in the slightest. It’s alright though! You weren’t going to lose hope but you still wanted to search the store just in case there was another copy on the loose, maybe it was hidden somewhere, misplaced, mixed up with the others, in another genre section, you get it. 

Looking thoroughly on the shelves where it could be sorted by genre was to no avail, so the only option left was to roam around and quite possibly stumble upon it, I mean if it’s meant to be it will find you. Something about not chasing but attracting it instead. Yeah, that could work, delusion was the best motivator in this case.  

You got to the “thriller” section just as you noticed a book on one of the shelves, well you saw the spine to be exact, with a similar color scheme to the one you were searching for and gasped. Okay Y/N, calm down, maybe it’s not that one, don’t get your hopes up too high now, was your initial thought, but as you got closer to it, the book became all the more familiar. Could this really be it? Huh, maybe you weren’t surrounded by misfortunes and the universe granted you a lucky break. It took everything in you not to scream out loud or jump around in excitement but instead you walked normally to the shelf, the second you grabbed the lower half of the book to pull it, another hand landed on the top half of it. Oh you must be joking right now...  

You turned to the stranger who was trying to get between you and the most important thing in your life right now, a fictional world... still important nonetheless. It surprised you to see that the person next to you was probably the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. He looked like he was your age and was fairly taller than you, with jet black hair, dressed in casual clothes and a face that could launch fifty spaceships into the orbit. Okay you didn’t really know how to explain it but the point still stands. He had a few moles on his face, the prettiest eyes and eyebrows that seemed like they were drawn by a single stroke of an artists’ brush, which made him even more gorgeous. If that was possible. 

“Hi there.” he spoke after a few seconds. 

“Hello.” you replied confidently not wanting to back down even a bit because realistically, you knew what was about to go down. “Looks like we reached for the same book.” you added. 

“Yeah, seems so.” he answered cockily both of your hands tightly holding the book, you could tell he was a stubborn one and it pissed you off, this was not going to be easy... 

“Are you sure you aren’t lost? The self-help section is over by the entrance.” you tried to rile him up and pointed in the direction behind him but he didn’t even blink. Instead, he just turned fully in your direction, hand still firmly on the book. 

“Nope. This is the book I was looking for.” you were expecting a snarky comeback that never came and instead he got closer, towering over you just enough for you to feel a teeny-tiny bit intimated. “This is the only copy left and I’m not leaving this store without it darling.” his voice was sweet and tender but his words weren’t. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Your bogus charm won’t work on me.” as if you’d let a man deceive you with such cheap tricks. You sighed. “Alright, how about this. We both put the book on that table over there...” you pointed to the small seating area behind you, near the windows “...and then we have a calm, rational talk on who should have it, okay? What’s your name?” 

The guy studied you for a bit, unsure on whether he should trust you or not. After a moment he released a long breath and let go of the book, you pulled it out of its place on the shelf, got over to the table and placed it down. “It’s Sunghoon by the way.” he said quietly. 

“What?”  

“My name. It’s Sunghoon.” he repeated. 

“Oh.” pretty name, you thought. “I’m Y/N.” it was only fair to let him know yours too. 

“So... how will we decide this?” he continued the conversation. You thought about it but nothing really came to mind. “Umm… maybe we could list of our reasons and whoever has a better reason wins?” 

Sunghoon opened his mouth in an attempt to speak but you interrupted him instead. “I’ll start first,” you said without letting him have a word in, you did him dirty but this was not the time to play nice. Your life depended on it, or more like... a couple of hours of enjoyment. 

“My reason is that I really like the series and want to read it.” you continued. 

“Right. Well, I promised a dear friend of mine that I’ll get it for him because he couldn’t come.” damn him, that was an infinitely better reason, why did he have to be so selfless. 

“How do I know you’re not lying? I mean at least I gave an honest reason.” you didn’t know why you just said that but in all honestly it was the only way you could’ve stalled this until, well... whatever you planned to do, but you had to think of something first. 

“Are you kidding me?” you could tell he was getting more annoyed by the minute and you decided to push it further. God why were you like this. 

“I mean… I just want to make sure we’re both being a hundred percent transparent with each other. Is there even a “friend” you’re helping?” oh yeah he definitely bought that. 

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. Your reason sucked compared to mine so now you’re just trying to slither your way through an excuse. Well it’s not going to work, so you can stop with the air quotes.” Sunghoon was getting really tired of your shit and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. 

“Slither my way through? What does that even mean?! And my reason doesn’t suck. It's just as valid as yours but I'm making sure the copy is not going to waste and that your “friend" actually appreciates the story.” maybe it would’ve been a better idea to be more... civil, but something about him made you want to keep pushing his buttons and he was no better either so you didn’t really feel guilty. 

“Hey! My best friend Niki, who is very much real, has been a fan of this series since the first book came out, so this copy is basically his birth right and there’s no way I’ll let some sea urchin have it!” Sunghoon was, let’s say a bit surprised at his own tone, he wasn’t the type of person to just have beef with random strangers over silly things, but I guess he was just feeling protective over Niki and wanted to win this for him. 

“A... a sea urchin?! How dare you, you... potato peeler...” way to call someone names. 

Sunghoon gasped as he clutched his chest.  

“I’ve been a fan for a whole YEAR, your friends’ love for it has been on stand-by, okay? Mine is fresh in my memory and if I don’t read that book immediately, I’m going to explode.” You emphasized with your hands.  

“Well gosh darn that’s just awful, what will the world do without a life ruining angry kitten like you.” he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh real funny Mr. Probably wears coats all the time.” in your defense he did seem like a coat guy. 

“Wow you got me... I’m so embarrassed, you carrot muffin.” yeah let’s go with that, he thought. 

“What did you just call me?!”   

“You heard me!” 

“Screw you, pencil biter!”  you were starting to get sick of this pointless “battle” so it was the best you could come up with. 

“Bet you like plain pasta, don’t you?” he put his hands on his hips. 

Sunghoon scoffed but then noticed the way your face sank at the last “insult”. There’s no way you actually got offended from that, is there? Maybe it was a touchy subject for you... dang it, how could he have been so stupid. What was going on with him today, this whole thing was so stupid, he didn't actually want to offend you... aaand great now he felt bad... 

“Hey look, I’m sorry, I didn’t actually mean what I said, it’s just the first thing that popped into my mind. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” you were standing very still while awkwardly fiddling with your hands looking anywhere but at him and frankly, he didn’t know what else to do.  

“It’s not like I always eat it plain, you know.” you spoke softly and sighed. “My friends make fun of me for it so it’s a bit of a touchy subject but...it’s just so good! If you make it right, cook it for long enough and then... leave a bit of the uhh... left-over pasta flavored water. It’s amazing.” you were scrambling for words which at this point made it 10 times weirder than it was. 

Sunghoon nodded while listening intently. “I know, I know. Forget your friends, you eat pasta however you want to! Don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong, okay? If you want to eat it plain then do that, who cares...” you still had your head down and after some internal debating and awkward back and forth hand movement, Sunghoon reached his hand and pat your head a few times with a soft “There, there. It’ll be okay.” 

You feel like your eyes bulged out of the pop sockets from the shock of feeling his hand on your head. Was he... comforting you? Never mind the weird air around you both and the weight of his gaze on you, it was... warm and tender. 

In Sunghoon’s case however, he didn’t know what he was saying nor why he just patted you head but at this point he would’ve done anything to stop you from sulking and bring back that insane fiery energy of yours from before and... wait a minute. Why was he thinking all this and why did he even care? Oh god he was going mad... he hadn’t thought any of this trough.  

At that moment, you slowly raised your head and looked at him with a small smile on your face, thanked him and... okay he was definitely going insane because he just found you so cute, he felt like a butterfly gave birth to a million small butterflies in his stomach...or was it the gut? Either way, this was not good, he needed to get his head out of the clouds and remember what his objective was.  

“Okay! Enough with the dilly-dallying!” you exclaimed, stopping his train of thought but the complete 180 change from arguing to whatever the other thing was to arguing again was going to give him a migraine.  

“We need to settle this once and for all. And I’m afraid there’s only one way to do it...”  

Sunghoon nodded. “A sword fight!” he declared. 

You stopped for a second to scowl at him. “What? No. Where would we find swords, although I would love that, it always seemed really fun on tv. I was thinking more of like rock, paper, scissors?” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s way more doable.” he straightened his posture and squeezed his hand into a fist “Let’s settle this once and for all.” 

“Ready? Rock, paper, scissors, sho-” 

“Excuse me?...” Before you were able to throw the hand signs, a lady came up to you. “May I ask if you need any help, is there a specific book you’re looking for? Maybe I can help you look for it?” she had a nametag on her shirt and you could make out a small ‘Louise’ so you figured she was one of the store sellers. 

Sunghoon spoke first “Oh no ma’am. Thank you very much for offering, but we were just about to decide who gets to have this book...” He turned to show the book where they last left it on the table next to them, only to realize it wasn’t there. Both of their jaws dropped in disbelief. 

“It’s... gone.” You looked up right at the register as another girl about their age was checking out, the same book she had in her hands just a few minutes ago... The girl turned away from the counter, now with the book in a tiny bag heading towards the exit. As she opened the door, she turned back to them and gave them a snarky smile and wriggled her fingers in a wave and exited the store. 

“Oh, that little...” You were about to head in her direction but Sunghoon grabbed your shoulders and stopped you from doing something stupid. 

“Alright~ Let’s calm down a bit. She already bought it, there’s nothing you can do. We should’ve paid more attention to our surroundings. It’s over let’s just leave it.” 

“You’re right. How are you more clear-headed than me? It’s odd.” 

“I have my strong points.” he flashed a grin in your direction and you froze for a second. Wow his smile was so... gorgeous. How can someone be this good looking... it wasn’t fair to anyone. You turned to the woman before she witnessed any more stupid shenanigans, thanked her and exited the store with Sunghoon following behind. 

“Hey, can we both agree that this entire morning and everything that happened in there was genuinely insane and definitely not something we should be fighting over?” you said once you were both out on the sidewalk. The sun was peeking out through some clouds so it was still quite cold, the streets were busy with cars and people going on about their day. 

“Yeah, I mean, it does seem quite silly now, doesn’t it?” he laughed, leaving a big goofy grin on his face. “I guess this means we’re friends now?” he added, looking at you with anticipation. Well that was new, you weren’t expecting that, especially not from him but hey, what the hell. 

“I guess so.” you nodded, smiling back at him and extended your hand for a handshake which he gladly accepted and shook it with his own. 

It got quiet and after a few seconds you asked “So... what do we do now?” 

“Umm...” he answered which gave you the impression that he probably didn’t know either “If you want, we can go hangout at my apartment, it’s close by, maybe we can have some of that plain pasta. And don’t worry I have roommates and you can invite your friends over. Niki will be there because, one, I want you to know that he’s real” you rolled your eyes “and two, since he’s a big fan of the series you’ll probably get along well.”  

NEVER go to a complete strangers house or invite one over, stay safe please <3 

“Okay. Yeah sure, why not. I’ll call my friends we can go together once they get here.” you knew their class had already ended so you texted Sunoo and Jay to come to a nearby cafe since you made plans with Sunghoon to wait for them there and chat in the meantime until you headed to the original hang-out location. 

When the four of you got there you got greeted by 3 of Sunghoon friends which you found out were Jungwon, Jake and Niki who, to your surprise ended up being very real and for the next 5 minutes you didn’t hear the end of it from Sunghoon, meaning you were bombarded with a bunch of attacks like “See? I told you he exists.” or “I can’t believe you’d think I’d lie about having friends, how low do you think of me?” to which your answers were either intense eye rolls or random outbursts of “Okay! I get it! Stop bothering me!” 

Once you filled everyone in on your...disagreement and everything from the moment you and Sunghoon met that led to you becoming friends of some sort, which to be fair, was very silly everyone fell into a comfortable small talk, slowly getting to know each other. 

Sunghoon was right about you getting along with the youngest, about whom you found out later on, that Niki was just a combination of his last and first name and his actual name was Riki. Your main topics of conversations being, of course, the hunger games but also the pain of not managing to get your hands on a copy of the newest book. Call that a tragic inconvenience bonding. 

Jay and Sunoo seemed to be getting along well with the others considering that for the past 15 minutes Jungwon explained, in great detail, all about his time at the dora the explorer convention and then dragged off Sunoo into the kitchen to show him his favorite episodes of the show. Jay bonded with Sunghoon and Jake over all three of them being born in the same year, called it fate that they met and something about soulmatism or whatever... they ended up putting their birth times into an astrology calculator to see if they, in Jake’s words, “match each other's freak”. 

As Niki stood up from the couch and into the kitchen with Sunoo and Jungwon, the space next to Y/N was free for just a few seconds before Sunghoon decided to take it up. 

“So...I think everything is going well. Heesung said he’d be back soon, said he was on some side quest. Are you having fun?” he asked expectantly. 

“Yeah, your friends are really cool, I really like them. And I’m glad the guys are getting along.” a high-pitched scream came from the kitchen the moment you said that, both your heads turning in the direction of the scream just in time to see Sunoo getting dragged by both Niki and Jungwon, followed by a bunch of cackles. You could see them trying to tickle Sunoo which forced him to get on the floor in an armadillo position, a surprised expression landing on your face. 

“Will he be okay or should I intervene?” Sunghoon asked, voice drowned in concern.  

“Oh don’t worry about Sunoo, he may not look like it but he can fend for himself if he wants to.” you said dismissively and Sunghoon mumbled an “alright then”, still a bit worried because he knew how his friends could be, but listened to you anyway. 

“You know, I’m kind of glad all the books were sold out, otherwise we might’ve never met. I got to be honest, you’re completely insane but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten into an argument with a stranger over a banal reason. It was honestly refreshing.” Sunghoon’s rambling was honestly so cute you didn’t even mind he called you crazy, and by the way he said it so excitedly and joyfully, you were sure he meant that as a compliment, and you didn’t mind it. 

“Aww, thanks. I think you’re pretty insane too, if it’s under any consolation.” the two of you fell into a bit of small talk, giggling and laughing over something the other one has said, getting along quite well, that is until Heeseung showed up. 

“Guys! I’m back and you’ll never believe what I found.” the guy you guessed was Heeseung, based on the single blurry picture Jungwon showed you, burst into the apartment without a care that, what was once his home, was now a chaos playground full of adult children running around and screaming. “Look what I got at a discount in a random mini market.” both you and Sunghoon stared in disbelief, eyes bulged out and jaws down to the floor as Heeseung pulled out a brand-new copy of the hunger games book you spent the whole morning fighting over. “Oh no.” mumbled Sunoo once he noticed what was happening. 

“It’s mine!” Sunghoon and you burst out simultaneously, turning to look at each other to once again continue your squabble from before your friends arc. The others now going over to Heeseung to see what the fuss was all about before collectively groaning in understanding.  

“Do you think Sunghoon remembers he went to get the book for Niki and not himself?” asked Jake, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t know it was gonna cause this much drama or I would’ve just stayed silent.” Heeseung put the book back in his bag, now clearly worried about the damage he accidentally caused. 

“Knowing Y/N, she will stop at nothing to win this, since she basically let him off the hook earlier.” Jay joined in. 

“Umm,” Niki began a bit unsure of himself. “Does anyone wanna leave them at it and go get coffee or something?” 

“Sure.” Sunoo said without a second thought.  

“Oh! I know this cafe nearby that just opened up it’s really cute and has a bunch of delicious looking pastries, if you guys are up for it.” suggested Jake, already on his way to put on his shoes and went out on his own. 

“Well I guess we’re going either way. Let’s go everyone, we’ll text them when we get there. I wonder how long it takes them to notice they’ve been abandoned.” Jungwon giggled sneakily pushing the others out the door and closed it, the faint sound of muffled voices still audible from the hallway slowly disappearing as the boys went on with their mission, leaving the two angry penguins to fend for themselves. 

-the end- hope you enjoyed :)

[samcurrentlywriting]

"You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen."

Summary: Tech gets injured just before a new mission, and refuses to be left behind.

Word count: 567

Prompt: "You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen." (alt prompt)

Notes: extra short and light, with some typical Bad Batch banter. Enjoy! (banners and dividers by @summer-of-bad-batch)

“Stop looking at me like that. I am perfectly alright.”

Tech receives four unimpressed glares in response. 

“You almost died, Tech.”

“And now I am alive. There is no reason to be worried.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes before exchanging a glance with Wrecker. 

“You should probably get some rest.” Hunter kindly says, before guiding the three others out of the room. 

They walk in silence in the corridors of Tipoca City, back to their quarters. They barely have the time to sit before they receive a transmission. A clone battalion, trapped by clankers inside a republic outpost, requests their assistance. 

Hunter absently taps his datapad as he reads the message. 

“What should we do?” Echo asks. 

“I’m not carrying around Tech strapped in a gurney.” Crosshair snarls. 

“I can carry him!” Wrecker retorts.

“Stop, we are not carrying Tech anywhere. He’s injured. He needs rest. We’ll have to go on this mission… without him.”

“Hunter…” Echo starts, but the sergeant cuts him off with a firm hand gesture. 

“We’re all the reinforcements this battalion will get. Four is not as good as five, but it’s better than zero.”

“Can’t argue with that logic!” Wrecker bellows. 

Echo doesn’t seem convinced. Hunter looks at Crosshair, but it’s hard to know if their youngest member is scowling because he doesn’t like the plan or if it’s just his resting face. Hunter steels himself:

“We don’t have time to argue. We need to go, now.”

They get ready, packing rations and extra ammunition before going back to the marauder. When the doors of the hangar open, they all stop in shock. Tech is standing there, leaning over the ramp of the ship. 

“You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen.”

Hunter inhales deeply before saying:

“One, how did you know we were leaving? Two, no, you’re not going with us, you need to heal from your injuries.” 

“Three, are you out of breath because you hurried to ensure your dramatic entrance?” Crosshair adds snarkily.

Tech and him glare at each other, until Hunter stops them. 

“And who do you think is going to fly my ship?” Tech asks.

“The marauder is our ship, and everyone here knows how to fly, Tech. Look at you, you can barely stand! Your injuries will never heal if you don’t rest.”

Tech opens his mouth to retort something, but Echo chimes in:

“We don’t have time for that! The clone battalion needs us, and since Tech won’t be left behind, they’ll get all five of us.”

Hunter mumbles something as he gets inside the ship. 

“Isn’t five better than four?” Wrecker asks in a whisper that somehow manages to be louder than a regular voice. 

“Your math is blowing my mind, Wrecker.” Crosshair retorts. 

Echo helps Tech to his seat as the pilot. 

“I won’t be much help to you in combat, but I can still fly, and my brain is intact. You will need my skills for this operation.”

“Are you calling us brainless?” Echo replies with a small smile.

“I am merely stating…”

“I think you got the idea across, Tech, now, get us out of here.” Hunter sighs. 

They all strap in and Tech engages lightspeed. Hunter cannot blame him for his persistent nature, when he knows they all share it within the squad. He cannot change that about them, but he can make sure they stay safe, together.  

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 31 - The bathroom equation

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 30 -- Part 32

Summary: The guys (and girls) take to the group chats to discuss some serious issues

Warnings: Post contains generalizations. Please don't murder me for that.

Word count: Exactly 3k!!!!

**A/N: **SO! The guys joined me in the shower yesterday (not as sexy as it sounds, unfortunately) and as @geralts-yenn and I had had a discussion about what the house groupchat would look like (including very necessary shadow-group with just the girls, and a group chat with everyone who regularly spends time at that house...) this is what I came up with.

[The guys' chat is 179CS🏡, the girls are 179CS🧠🧠, and the everyone-group is 179CS Full🏡]

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @livisss @sillyrabbit81

@ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos @thelastsock @wa-ni

@proud-aroace-beastie @totalwool

Mike:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Story2cats (@story2cats)

Sherlock: Great, she’s asking me what I’m laughing at.

August: If you value your life, don’t show her.

Sherlock: And if she steals his phone and sees it anyway? Xoxo Elena

Marshall: Paramedics or police?

Charles: Both.

August: Both.

Leon: Both.

Marshall: 👍🏻

Sherlock: They’ll never get here in time 😈

Mike: Nice knowing you, buddy ❤️

Elena: Dani, get your man in line.

Dani: What he do?

Elena: [video]

Ange: I mean…

Sol: He’s not… wrong…

Dani: He sent me that 🙊

Lexi: Is he okay?

Dani: Was he okay to begin with? 😂

Ange: Not that we know of…

Sy: Speaking of showers… We need rules.

Mike: Eh, why?

Sy: Because I was late for my date yesterday.

August: Which is our problem… how?

Leon: It’s not.

Charles: 👆🏻

Sy: In a house shared by eight guys there’s no excuse for a line for the bathroom!

Mike: Some of us have ✨girlfriends✨

Mike: You should try it sometime

Sy: 🦆🫵🏻 ❤️

Mike: Aww ❤️

Charles: He has a point, though.

Charles: Don’t appreciate getting yelled at for taking a shit in my own damn bathroom.

August: Not to mention the hair.

Sherlock: I don’t see the problem there? Just ask them to clean the drain when they’re done?

Leon: Spoken like a man who has never once in his life watched a woman clean a shower drain…

August: Good luck and farewell, Holmes

Sherlock: ?

Mike: Tears will be cried. Drains will be cleaned — by you.

Mike: Murder may be committed.

Sherlock: Surely, it can’t be that bad?

Geralt: No, he pretty much nailed it.

August: As much as I hate to admit it, the man is right.

Sy: So. New rules?

Leon: House meeting?

Mike: Sure. We’re all home, right?

Sy: Nope.

Mike: What? Why?

Sy: … sometimes when a date goes well, you end up staying over.

Sy: Are there other questions you need answered, bud?

Mike: I think I’m good…

Charles: Ladies, enough with the gossip

Leon: Right. Some of us have work to do.

Charles: Exactly

Sherlock: I highly doubt he was referring to you, Brandon.

Mike: Oooh, mad shade!!! xoxo Dani

Charles: Thanks. Sy, the complaint?

Sy: I had to wait in line to take a shower because the bathrooms were overrun by women.

Leon: Noted. The proposal?

Sy: I’m just pointing out the problem. Someone smarter than me can worry about the solution 🤷🏻‍♂️

Sherlock: Am I right to assume asking the girls to just… spend less time in the bathroom would result in murder, as well?

Sherlock: Never mind, Elena is nodding violently next to me right now.

Mike: What do you want us to do? Assign all the girls to one bathroom?

August: That might work, actually.

Leon: Doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.

Charles: Yes?

Mike: Wow, the one time I have a good idea, I don’t even realize it’s a good idea…

Mike: Wait, no.

Mike: I’m not permanently sharing a bathroom with seven of you because we sometimes have girls over.

August: Kid has a point.

Mike: I’m on a roll today! 😎

Sherlock: That leaves us with the question of how many women would have to be present to necessitate giving them their own bathroom, correct?

Marshall: If you desperately want to make it sound like math, then yes.

Sherlock: Not math. Logic.

Sherlock: And I find myself compelled to point out that I understand and enjoy logic.

August: Dealing with women is an aggravating experience, then, isn’t it?

Sherlock: Absolutely mystifying. But I’ve found that thus far the benefits outweigh the costs.

Mike: You know, for you… That’s actually kinda sweet 😂

Marshall: Romantic 👍🏻

Leon: Don’t tell her that…

Charles: Guys, seriously!

August: Right. Sol and Ange together never caused any problems.

Sherlock: Neither have any… liaisons of a fleeting nature

Mike: Hookups. You mean hookups.

Sherlock: You couldn’t pay me to say that.

Charles: Moot point. The average walk of shame happens before the shower.

Leon: It’s not like they stay for breakfast…

Leon: Beat me to it 😂🤜🏻

Charles: 🤛🏻

Geralt: The both of you are unbearable.

Geralt: August is right.

August: But…

Geralt: Sol and Ange don’t cause problems because Sol doesn’t take forever in the shower.

August: Right. But Angel is a nightmare, and so is Elena. Those two alone are enough to cause traffic.

Sherlock: Correct me if I’m wrong, but ‘Elena and Anjelica together, or either of those combined with any two others, or neither of them but a minimum of three others’ sounds like the kind of rule that will ensure we won’t even need it for the foreseeable future.

Sy: It also gives me a headache.

Mike: I don’t think I even understood enough of it to get a headache…

Sherlock: Minimum of 3, then ask me and Angie to not occupy both bathrooms at the same time. 🙄🙄🙄 Problem solved. You’re all still in trouble for even talking about this ❤️❤️❤️

Ange: They’re giving us what now???

Elena: Bathroom rules…

Dani: Tell me you’re kidding 🙃🙃

Elena: Dead fucking serious 🙄

Sol: Why?

Elena: Apparently 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Elena: We caused a traffic jam last night and made Sy late for his date???

Elena: Fairly sure Alicia didn’t mind because he’s still over there 🙄🙄🙄

Ange: What are the rules?

Elena: I don’t know. I’m glaring at Sherlock from a distance now.

Elena: I’m pleased to report he looks terrified every time I do 😈😈

Elena: They’re considering a girls’ bathroom.

Ange: I’m considering permanent occupation of all bathrooms.

Elena: Your boy called us both nightmares, by the way 😇😇

Elena: Apparently we take too long to shower, idk

Sol: You both take your time, sure…

Elena: Okay, fine. But he doesn’t have to point that out 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

Ange: Funeral invitations to follow…

Ange: No but seriously

Ange: He thinks I take too long in the shower?

Ange: Fine!

Ange: I’ll take shorter showers!

Dani: He really said that? 💀

Ange: Let’s see how he feels about that in a week or two.

Ange: Enjoy flossing, August 🙃🙄

Dani: 👀👀 [the agonizing scream you just heard was brought to you by me spitting my drink over Mike’s keyboard]

Lexi: 🙊 Mike and keyboard both okay?

Dani: Keyboard fine, Mike hyperventilating. He’ll be alright, back to you Ange.

Ange: I might have to rescind this attitude…

Ange: As much as I want to get back at him for this, I don’t want him to run…

Sol: You really think he’d care? Ange… he loves you…

Ange: Not that much…

Lexi: Girl, please?? Have you seen the way that man looks at you?

Ange: … He’s never seen me, like… untweezed and unshaved and whatever

Dani: Never?

Ange: Never ever ever.

Sol: 👀👀

Sol: But why?? I only shave when I feel like it – which is almost never – and Geralt has never said anything??

Ange: Girl, you’re a blonde 👀👀

Ange: I don’t wax this stache, 2 weeks from now you’ll be confusing me for August. I swear.

Lexi: Okay there’s literally no way that’s true.

Dani: And even if it was, he’d still love you.

Ange: Yeah but I’m not about to find out, thanks.

Lexi: It’s your body, obviously

Elena: Do what feels comfortable

Dani: But if you do ever miss a day and he does say something nasty…

Elena: I’ll grab the shovels 😇😇

Leon: Ladies and gentlemen — mostly ladies. A little PSA regarding an update in the house rules at 179th Crescent Street. It was recently brought to my/our attention that the addition of a number of regular overnight guests has created a somewhat unmanageable situation in the realm of bathroom use. Therefore, the new policy is as follows: When three or more of the girlfriends are staying over, the upstairs bathroom is all yours! Management is currently unavailable for negotiation.

Charles: TLDR: take your long-ass showers on the second floor. Please.

Ange: This message was deleted.

August: I saw that.

Elena: Oh, I’ll say it with my chest

Elena: You all suck.

Sherlock: No…

Mike: Whatever you do, man, don’t finish that thought 😂

Sherlock: I think they got the message regardless.

Ange: Oh, we got it alright…

Dani: You’re lucky you’re cute, Sherlock 🙄

Mike: Hey!

Lexi: I’m so sorry to say this but… Over my cold, dead body am I walking up a flight of stairs in the middle of the night to pee.

Charles: @Leon Told you the ‘not up for negotiation’ thing wasn’t going to work.

Leon: It was worth a try.

Geralt: We’re not banning anyone from the house for using the ‘wrong’ bathroom

Sol: Then why the pointless rule?

Sy: Because yesterday BOTH bathrooms were occupied for well over two hours!!!

Sy: Seriously, what do you do in there?

Mike: Elaborate satanic rituals?

Sol: Occasionally.

Ange: Let’s see… Do we actually enlighten them?

Mike: Please do, I’m curious now…

Charles: I know what happens when I’m also in the shower… 😏

Ange removed Charles

Ange: Any other takers?

August: Angel…

Ange: Don’t tell me I’m overreacting!

August: I didn’t say a word 😑

Ange added Charles

Ange: Behave.

Charles: 🤐

Elena: Good boy.

Leon: Do you say that to Sherlock, too? 😏

Ange removed Leon

Marshall: Jesus, Ange…

Ange: Ugh, fine.

Ange added Leon

Mike: Seriously, girls… Other than summoning the occasional demon — what are you doing in there?

Sol: I’m gonna let Elena and Angie handle this one…

Ange: Alright. So first I check if I have all 4059834 items I’m going to need. Then at some point you’ll have to get naked, unfortunately…

Dani: Look at everything you hate about yourself for a solid 5 minutes until you’re nice and depressed

Elena: Didn’t come here to be called out like this, but thanks 🙄🙄

Sol: Poke your boobs and watch them jiggle because it’s funny until you’re less depressed

Mike: Getting jealous…

Ange: Then you turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up

Lexi: To those ungodly temperatures from the pits of hell, you know? 👀👀

Mike: I’m not apologizing for that video, just so you know.

Lexi: That’s actually useful time to make sure you find the right playlist ✨✨

Sy: YOU DON’T NEED A PLAYLIST FOR A SHOWER

Lexi: Hard disagree

Elena: Yes, we do.

Sol: … Am I supposed to listen to my own thoughts in the shower?

Ange: I’d never be able to suppress my homicidal tendencies ever again, holy shit…

Dani: Then we actually get in the shower and warm up because the bathroom is cold, just like our souls.

Marshall: I’m genuinely learning more than I’ve ever wanted to know…

Mike: This is already taking longer than my whole entire shower…

Ange: And we’re not even close to being done.

Elena: @Ange Especially us…

Leon: Okay, fine, I’ll bite… Why is it different for the two of you?

Sol: Because they have curls?

Charles: That makes a difference?

Sy: So?

Mike: Why does THAT matter?

Marshall: Is that… important??

Elena: You’re all so clueless, it’s almost cute 🥺

Ange: @Marshall you actually might want to pay attention to this…

Ange: Alright. By the time I’m warm, my hair is usually wet all the way through

Ange: Massively heavy, by the way.

Ange: It’s hair-washing time! Which, idk about @Elena, but I have to do this in at least 4 sections if I don’t want to miss half of it.

Elena: I can get by with 2, but 4 is better.

Elena: Of course, 9/10 times I fucking forgot to section it before getting in the shower.

Ange: Obviously. So now you’re wrangling your wet hair into submission

Elena: Which is damn near impossible.

Ange: Exactly. But when that’s finally done, you can get to washing it.

Elena: And rinsing it until there’s absolutely no way there’s still any shampoo left.

Ange: Which takes a long ass time, BTW.

Ange: Then it’s ✨deep conditioner✨ time!!! Like… it’s always deepco time. I don’t even use regular conditioner anymore because my hair thinks it’s pointless. So like. That.

Elena: Mood.

Ange: And that stuff needs to sit in your hair for like 15-30 minutes

Mike: That’s like… 3 whole showers…

Charles: I don’t even spend this kind of time on my schoolwork 👀

Geralt: That’s not something to be proud of.

Sherlock: Imagine what you could do if you did.

Ange: Either way, it’s okay, because next… We exfoliate.

August: For those who haven’t been keeping count, we’re on step 12 or something. Jesus.

Charles: @Leon what the damn hell does our water bill look like?

Sol: Pay attention! Exfoliate! Then shave. Which, when you’re 6 feet tall in the showers here… damn near impossible, by the way.

Elena: (Cut yourself at least twice no matter how long you’ve been doing it…)

Lexi: Ohh! Cubicle yoga while holding a razor!!!

Dani: And while wet and slippery…

Ange: We’re superhuman 💃🏻

Sy: You’re nuts is what you are. All of you!

Dani: Anyway, when we reach baby dolphin status…

Dani: Which doesn’t happen until we’ve checked at least three times if we haven’t missed any spots…

Dani: I personally squeeze in brushing my teeth and skincare before rinsing my conditioner.

Elena: 👆🏻

Ange: Same! If I’m paying like 30 dollars for a hair mask that’ll barely last me two weeks, I’m gonna at least spend some time with it 👀✨

Sol: So that’s teeth and face wash in the shower. Then rinse that conditioner.

Ange: Which — again — takes a while if you have curly and/or a lot of hair.

Ange: Also, before I rinse my hair, I spend an ungodly amount of time detangling it with my fingers, which I have to do while the mask/conditioner is in. So…

Marshall: And at this point you’re finally nearly done, right?

Sherlock: … please, for the love of God, let it almost be over!

Ange: Oh, my precious little babies ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lexi: At this point we’re slowly considering getting out of the shower, yes.

Dani: But the rest of the bathroom is cold, so we take our time gathering the courage to get out.

Leon: 🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

Sherlock: The entire bathroom is hot enough to steam salmon at this point!

Mike: And yet, they manage to emerge from Mordor absolutely freezing…

Sol: When we do finally manage to make it out, we wrap ourselves in the biggest towel we can find…

Ange: By the way, ladies, you can thank me and Sol for the presence of the big towels in this house.

Sol: Oh GOD I remember the first shower I ever took here.

Geralt: The towels were fine.

Sol: …………. Geralt, I love and respect you, but you’re wrong and also stupid. ❤️

Ange: You’ll pay for that…

Sol: Looking forward to it 😈😈

Mike: Please continue…

Dani: We’re left with the rest of our skincare. So; toner, 1-3 serums, moisturizer. Sunscreen or oil, for me, depending on the time of day.

Ange: But the mirror is fogged up from the shower, so you have to deal with that…

Leon: YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR FACE IS, DON’T YOU?

Ange: Yes, but it’s also very pretty so I wanna look at it. Thanks.

Lexi: How can I meticulously study all the imperfections in my skin if I can’t see my face???

Dani: Exactly! (To both of those things, simultaneously)

Dani: So, after that, it’s time to moisturize everything you’ve exfoliated and/or shaved.

Elena: Which is… pretty much everything.

Sol: Cue deep sigh because this is where you find out you actually did miss a spot somewhere.

Ange: And then it’s back to the hair for the curly girls!

Elena: Leave in ❤️❤️❤️

Marshall: What?

Sy: ??

Mike: Wut?

Ange: It’s like conditioner, but you don’t rinse it out.

Sherlock: @Elena the stuff that smells good?

Elena: Yes 😂😂😂

Dani: Which reminds me; @Elena, is that your Quench in the bathroom or mine? I can’t remember…

Elena: Oh, God, me neither…

August: Settle this in the shadow group, ladies.

Lexi: You know about that, huh? 😂

Dani: Shit, they figured it out…

Sol: Not surprised… They’re not completely clueless…

Ange: Just mostly…

August: Thanks. Enough of that.

Ange: Okay daddy 🥺❤️❤️

August: 🙄

Ange: Anyway. After the leave-in and maybe two or three other products, I wrap my hair up in my hair-towel — or hair-tshirt.

Charles: Another towel? Why in the fuck?

Ange: Boys. I understand that you don’t give a fuck about this, but…

Ange: Regular towels are actually not good for your hair.

Elena: 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

Lexi: Besides… You can’t dry long hair and your body with 1 towel…

Sol: What she said.

Sol: What they both said, actually.

Leon: Are we finally at the end of all of this?

Leon: I’ve literally never been more glad to not have a girlfriend, jesus fucking christ…

Dani: Yeah, pretty much… You get dressed, dreading the cold of the hallway, and then we quickly go find a boy to snuggle up to who can then tell us we smell nice and are very soft, so we can convince ourselves we didn’t just spend an unholy amount of time doing all of that for absolutely nothing.

August: All of this is… insane.

Ange: Hey! I can stop doing half of this, if you think it’s so unnecessary 🙄🙄

Elena: Now that I think about it… It wouldn’t even save any time, because you still need to let the conditioner sit, so…

Charles: Right, ladies, this was very interesting…

Charles: I’m going to take a shower now.

Charles: Talk to you in about… 10 minutes 🙄

Sy: Remind me to never ask any of you any questions literally ever again…

[purrplegyuu]

Cold | Choi Beomgyu

Index

Chapter five

Warnings: beomgyu's not soft anymore, explicit content, not finished smut, reader crying while having sex.

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist: @arianap23e, @haatohwa

Hii! I've been really busy this week, that's why I uploaded the chapter one day after I should. So sorry.

However, you know I'm not a native speaker, so make sure you let me know about any mistake I make. Thank you so much for supporting me. If you want to be added to the tag list, make sure you let me know.

When I received a message from Beomgyu ten minutes ago asking me to go to his room as soon as possible, I was hoping nothing but to see him being soft again. I was at Jiwoo’s house when that happened. 

I told her I needed to go—even if she said she missed me at school on Monday, even if I was helping her with one of the maths topics she asked for because she knows I saw that topic last year, even if she asked me not to leave; I left, walking home with a weird excitement I only have when I want something good to happen but I deeply know something wrong will happen.

Beomgyu looks at me darkly when I finally get home. He’s silent one more time, but I don’t feel this softness from yesterday. I walk towards him, although I’m never the one getting close to him. “You took so long,” He hisses. “I’m sorry, I was at-” He interrupts me. “Take off your clothes” I look at him, suddenly trembling while my heart aches like a knife has just sunk into it. I hardly swallow as a knot appears in my throat. “I’ll be waiting in my room” He goes upstairs, leaving me all alone and making me feel guilty, like I’ve done something wrong. I go to my room first, taking my clothes off and letting them in my bed, turning around to see myself in the full body mirror of my room. Why do I feel so bad if I love him that much? Maybe because I don’t want him to fuck me once again—because I don’t want to know that I’m nothing but a whore. His whore. Then, why am I walking towards his room? Why don’t I run away as fast as I can? Do I even need to?... He’s never forced me to do anything… I have always been the one forcing myself. Because I love him. I wonder if this strength I have been trying to forge in order to show myself I have at least a bit of self-love has faded because of those short moments of softness I passed by his side. When I stand right in front of him, quiet and trembling… I understand that I’m under his power once again. He looks at me from his chair. His eyes move from my neck, my small breasts, my arms, my belly button, my thin legs, and my hips. I almost believe he loves me. That’s the moment he tells me to walk towards him. I don’t even mind closing the door as I already know our parents aren’t home and aren’t going to be home until it’s late and until we’re over. He looks at me, lifting his face since he is still sitting on his chair. His hands land on my hips, right before he pulls me a little bit closer just to leave a kiss on my lower abdomen. A chill runs down my back. He takes my hand with his right hand while the other one holds my hip, guiding me towards his lap. Each leg on each side of his body. He hugs my waist now, and I find support on the back of the chair. His lips meet my cheek. Then, he kisses my neck a few times, some more kisses on my clavicles and shoulder, and all I can think about is if he’s going to kiss me—because it is strangely what we do the least. His black skinny jeans meet my slit, making me moan highly because of the scratchy fabric against my sensitive skin and also because of the sudden contact. He looks down as his hands make me move above him, back and forward, not giving me time to get used to it. I feel my cunt drooling above him, wetting his jeans until there’s a dark patch on his jeans. He unbuttons his jeans, lowering along with his boxers just a little bit, until his dick’s standing against my tummy, rock hard and drooling pre-cum. He takes my hips, angling my body until his cock meets my slit. He moves my hips up and down, rubbing his cock against my slit—from my clitoris to my entrance, once and another time. On and on, until I’m breathless, a knot forming on my lower abdomen. But I still cannot hear him moaning, sighing, or even breathing. When I open my eyes, I find him looking at me. The tip of his pretty nose all red. I look up at the rest of his face—his shiny eyes and the top of his cheeks red like he had just cried or was about to before I came. And I don’t really know why but something inside me cannot do anything but blame his mother. Because, suddenly, she became the culprit of any bad thing that could ever happen to him.

Without even thinking about it, my hands pull away his hands, and then, they go to his face, caressing the soft skin of his pink cheeks. He looks at me confused, frowning at my unusual behavior.

“What’re you doing?” His voice sounds way softer than minutes before.

“Is it your mother?” I ask, but not actually waiting for a response. He looks at me surprised, and after a blink, I look at his eyes growing red and shiny. Then, I pass my hands over his shoulders, hugging his neck tightly, feeling him sighing. After some seconds of being this way, I can even say he’s crying.

However, I suddenly feel his hands taking mine tightly. I look at him confused—not even a tear on any part of his face. He forces me to stand up, doing the same himself, making me wonder if I crossed the line. He pushes me to the bed strongly, making me bounce because of the force he used. And when he positions himself right above me, everything I see in his face is hate.

Hate. The same hate I’ve ever seen on him. When he talked to me the first time we met at our parent’s wedding; every time we met each other at school; when our parents forced us to eat dinner together as a family;… when he entered my room at midnight and stole my virginity without even faking love.

The night right before that, I was sure that you couldn’t have sex for the first time without even kissing someone before. How dumb.

And every single time after that. The same hate, the same rage, the same resentment—just like I did something to him before.

But everything I do is loving him until I’m loving him more than myself.

I wonder once again if that’s what I want for my life—that unjustified hatred; the fear of what’s going to be his following action; his coldness; being always quiet, even if it hurts agonizingly when he pounds on my vagina the way he does, hitting my cervix once and again without even prepping me well.

Is that what I want for the rest of my life?...

Yes.

My tears roll easily all over my face, falling to his bed as his dick hits my cervix nonstop, but despite the great pleasure I feel, it doesn’t feel very good. I’m overwhelmed by a large amount of destructive thoughts I thought for a minute I would never have again because ‘Beomgyu is acting differently’. But he’s not anymore.

I close my eyes strongly, trying to deal with it, until I’m audibly sobbing beneath him. I try to cover my face with my arm, but he takes both of my hands, using his strength to force them above my head tightly.

I cried many times from pleasure, but right now… It just doesn't feel great.

“Stop,” I say. It’s always been hard for me to talk when I’m crying. But he doesn’t stop. “Stop!” I'm yelling. “Beomgyu, stop! Stop, I don’t want to anymore!” He lets my hands go as fast as he can and takes his dick out of me.

I cover my face with my hands trying to calm myself, until I find out I can’t because I need to cry everything away.

“Jeongseo” I hear his voice, and then, his hand touches my arm, making me jump from fear. I look at him, looking like he’s feeling guilty and scared at the same time. But what can I do? I already trusted him many times before, and every time I’m back on his bed, I understand once again that he will never change.

But that doesn’t really matter because after I ran away to my bedroom, I realize this is not the first time it happens. I’m trapped in this never-ending cycle, not actually wishing for it to break because everything I can think about is all the good moments, the nice feelings, him.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 5

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is it. The chapter I initially wanted to write. Literally, just a small little one shot. But no. That’s not the Miller way apparently and once again, a Miller man took me by the hand and said “more”. Also I’m sorry please don’t hate me.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Divider made by @benkeibear 

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

Dating changed absolutely nothing between us. It felt the same as it always had, us sharing jokes, laughing, listening to each other, the amazing sex, just being around each other. Tommy and I always got along well and I guess it feels the same because we’d always been flirting. And then fucking. The only thing we never did was officially date.

A couple months in, Joel and Sarah have us over for our weekly family dinner. Joel had asked us to not tell Sarah about the baby until we were sure it was sticking around, which was fair. Since everything was going great with the pregnancy, we all agreed it was time to tell her. 

“We’re having steak? Since when are family dinner’s so fancy, dad?” Sarah asks as she walks into the kitchen, looking over her dad’s shoulder at the plate of grilled steaks. 

Joel nods towards me. “It was Daisy’s request.”

Sarah raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize we could make requests.”

“She can. You can’t.”

Sarah scoffs as she sits down, the rest of us joining her at the table. “That’s not fair. Why does she get special treatment?”

Joel starts loading steak onto plates and passing them around the table. “Because she’s stuck with Tommy and I feel bad for her.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy says, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He clears his throat before looking at Sarah. “Actually, there’s a reason. A real reason.”

Sensing the change in tone, Sarah looks up at her uncle. “What’s up? Did someone die? Oh no, you guys aren’t breaking up are you? What did you do, Uncle Tommy?”

“Hey now, what makes you think I screwed it up?” Sarah looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “Alright, fair point. But no.” Tommy takes my hand, rubbing little circles into the back of it. “You’re going to be a cousin.”

It takes her a second, the math playing out in front of her glazed over eyes before she looks at me for confirmation and I nod, my hand going to rest on my small stomach before she screams, launching herself out of her chair and nearly knocking me out of mine as she flings her arms around my neck. 

“Oh my GOD this is amazing news! I can’t believe I’m going to have a cousin!! AAHHH A BABY, DAD! THERE’S GOING TO BE A BABY IN THE FAMILY!” She launches herself at Tommy next, nearly knocking him out of the chair. “I promise I will help and babysit and do whatever you need for the baby! Wait, is it a boy or girl?”

“We won’t find out for a bit yet. But when we do, we’ll let you know.”

Sarah squeaks and hugs Tommy again. “I am so excited! You’re going to be a great dad, Uncle Tommy I know it!”

The rest of the dinner I wanted for nothing, Sarah immediately jumping to help me before Tommy could blink. Joel explained that she’d been dying to have a sibling for the longest time, but this is the next best thing. When it’s time for us to leave, she hugs me but pushes her face to my stomach, whispering things to the baby. Tommy gets in his truck after helping me in, chuckling as he starts it. 

“Well I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about a babysitter.”

“At least until she finds a boyfriend.”

“Don’t let Joel hear you say that.”

We reach the end of Joel’s street and Tommy stops, his hand hovering over the blinker. 

“Tommy?”

“Move in with me.”

“What?”

He turns in his seat, throwing the truck into park. “I mean it. I’ve been wanting to ask you for…well, forever. I hate you being so far away all the time and fuck I love you so much and I just want to take care of you, and make sure that-”

“Tommy-”

“-that you’re never wanting for anything and-”

“Tommy-”

“-and I want to wake up every day beside you, officially, and-”

“Tommy!”

He pauses and looks at me. “Y-yeah?”

I take his hand and hold it, feeling his warmth seep into my skin. “I love you too and I would absolutely love to move in with you.”

His eyes brighten as a smile stretches across his face. “Yeah? Really?”

“Really. I love you, Tommy Miller.”

He pulls my face to his and kisses me, only breaking it to the sound of a horn honking from behind us. He laughs and pulls back, putting on his blinker and driving towards my apartment. 

“Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.”

Several weeks later, once we’re all moved and settled in, we go to my OB, an ultrasound wand gliding around my stomach as they take their measurements. 

“Baby is looking good, healthy. Growing just as they should be. Oh which reminds me - do we want to know what we’re having?”

Tommy takes my hand where he stands next to me. “Yes, ma’am we would.”

She slides the wand around for a few moments and then stops, taking a picture of the ultrasound. “You’re going to have a boy.”

Tommy lets out a puff of air. “Are..are you sure?”

The OB smiles. “Oh yes. You see this here?” She points at a spot on the screen. “Definitely a boy.”

Tommy laughs, actually whooping a little and when he turns to me, I see tears welled up in his eyes before he wipes them away. “We’re gonna have a son. I can’t believe it! I’m gonna have a boy!” He leans down and kisses me and my hand comes up to the back of his head to pull him closer. He pulls back a little, eyes looking between mine. “What do you think?”

“Honestly, I just wanted a healthy baby. But I can’t wait to see a mini you walking around. Will it come out with a tiny belt buckle?”

“Oh shut up!” He smiles against my lips as he kisses me once more before letting the tech finish their scans. 

The pregnancy progresses and I start to feel more like a house, sweating whenever I think about walking, struggling to get up from sitting. The Texas heat becomes more and more oppressive and I find myself sweating from places I didn’t know I could. 

Tommy is wonderful. I don’t know what I did to deserve him. Every day he comes home and gives me a massage, paying extra attention to my feet and lower back, even learning how to massage for the sciatica that started up several weeks back. He gets me anything I ask for, no matter how ridiculous, and showers me with love and affection, praising me for the ability to grow a new life. 

“Ugh, I’m so big I can’t do anything!” I slam my fist on the bed next to me where I had tried, and failed, to sit up. 

“You’re in the home stretch, darlin’. Soon you’ll be holdin’ that son of ours and making me want to put another one in you I know it.”

“Slow down there, cowboy. I haven’t finished cooking this one yet.”

Tommy chuckles. “True. But until then, can I help you feel better?”

“How would you oh.” Tommy slides his hand between my legs, gently brushing over my sensitive clit. He leans in and nibbles on my ear lobe, gently pressing a finger over me where I need him and I whine. “Is that a yes, darlin’?”

“Oh fuck yes.”

Tommy continues to touch me as he nibbles on my ear, kissing that spot under it that has my hips jerking into his hand. Then he pushes up and drops between my legs, pulling from me 2 of the most intense orgasms I’ve had this entire pregnancy.

“Feeling good, darlin’?” Tommy asks as he wipes his face, sitting up from between my thighs. 

“Mmhm. But I need you.”

Tommy looks at me, his eyebrows pulled together. “I’m not sure-”

“The doctor said it might help stimulate labor.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And I am so ready to not be pregnant in this heat. Please Tommy?”

He looks at me and I try to copy his puppy eyed look, but all he does is laugh at me. “You’re so terrible at that.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me if I hurt you, ok?”

“Of course.”

An hour later, my water breaks.

Calm and collected, Tommy uses every ounce of his training from the army to get us to the hospital on time and safe. Once we’re in the labor and delivery room, he shoves our bags to the side and continues his support, counter pressure on my hips during contractions when I ask him, ice chips, sneaking me honey sticks or whatever I wanted when the nurse wasn’t looking. He lets me tell him what I need and then he did it and I really don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He constantly whispered words of affirmation in my ear, especially as time went on and he could see me getting exhausted. 

“You’ve got this, Daisy. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re gonna breathe this baby out.”

16 hours of labor later, our son Jackson was born. The moment Tommy caught him he had him wrapped around his tiny little finger, Tommy’s tears falling onto his tiny little chest as he took his first breaths in this world. 

“Hey little guy. It’s me. I’m your dad.” His voice cracks on the last word as he turns to hand me our son. I take him, tears streaming down my face at this little tiny human who holds my entire being. 

“Hey Jackson. It’s mom. I’m so glad to finally see you on the outside!”

Tommy cuts the cord and then comes back by us, tears fully streaming down both of our faces as Jackson cuddles further into me. If he wasn’t in my arms he was in Tommy's, his tiny little body curled up and relaxed on his dad’s broad chest was enough to punch anyone right in the baby maker. And I’d just had a baby. 

Sarah is beside herself. She absolutely adores Jackson and spends every moment she can with him. Whenever she can get him away from Tommy that is. Even Joel, who had warmed up to me the moment Tommy and I started dating, melted over him, visions of his daughter playing in his eyes whenever he looked at Jackson. 

A few weeks after Jackson was born, Tommy comes out to find us in the living room, the tv on low as I feed him, circles under my eyes from lack of good sleep, hair in a messy bun, and smelling of milk. He sits next to me and puts his hand on my thigh, rubbing circles into it.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

I scoff. “Oh yeah, I’m sure I look like I’m ready for the runway.”

“I’m serious. You fucking made a human. You did that. Made a human and take such good care of him and you just…I love you.”

I can’t help it, but I cry, half from his words and half from the hormones that are just about out of my body from everything. 

“Marry me.”

I stop crying to look at him. “What?

“I had a whole thing planned but seeing you now? I can’t wait. Will you? Marry me?”

“You wanna marry me when I look like this?”

“Darlin’, you are gorgeous and strong and I fucking adore you. But if you’re not ready and I asked too soon, I promise I’ll wait. I can-”

“Yes.”

“Y-yes?”

The tears fall again, streaming down my face as I nod furiously. “I want to be Mrs. Miller.”

He laughs, pulling my face to his and kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth, moaning slightly before a tiny cry makes him pull back.

“Sorry, bud. I just had to kiss your mom. Wait right here.”

Tommy disappears into our bedroom and comes back with a small black box, opening it to reveal a ring, a slim white gold band with a modest sized diamond in the middle, and an engraving on the inside that simply said “Miller” with a tiny daisy engraved with it.

“Oh Tommy! This is beautiful!” He slides it onto my finger and I cry again looking at it. Honestly, I would’ve stayed with Tommy for the rest of my life without a ring. Without even officially dating. And when I told him as much, he laughed and said he wished he’d have known as he could’ve saved a lot of money.

We get married when Jax is about 6 months old in a small ceremony in our own backyard. Tommy, Joel, and Sarah completely transformed our small yard into something out of a story. Twinkling lights strung amongst the tree branches and bushes, a few long, wooden planks are set on stumps to make benches, and Tommy builds an archway for us, decorating it with vines and flowers, Sarah adding lights and a beautiful purple strip of fabric that was her grandmothers. I can see the tears glisten in Tommy and Joel’s eyes before they turn away clearing their throats, memories of their parents flashing in their eyes.

It’s strange. I’ve always heard people say, either in real life or on tv or movies, that they were so nervous on their wedding day. Cold feet. But me? I have none of that. I know that I was meant to be with Tommy, whether we got a receipt or not. And when I make my way down the flower petal clad aisle, staring into his deep brown eyes that are glistening with tears, a smile stretching his face, I know that he feels the same way. 

The celebration goes long into the night, Jax snuggled up next to Sarah, who also passed out in a little makeshift play area she had made for him. When it’s finally time to say goodnight to everyone, Joel quietly picks up Sarah and carries her to his truck and Tommy does the same with Jax, taking him upstairs to put him in his crib. The mess had been cleaned by family and so I follow Tommy, watching as he carefully adjusts Jax in his bed. My little family. I never dreamt in a million years that this is where I’d be at this point in my life, but I know I wouldn’t change a thing.

“What do you think about this one, little guy?” Tommy holds up an apple in front of him, Jax in the baby carrier strapped to his chest. He stares at the apple for several moments before babbling loudly and reaching for it. Tommy chuckles. “Alright, this one it is then.” He kisses the top of Jax’s head and puts the apple in the produce bag and repeats the process with all of the apples, completely oblivious to all of the women looking at him with heart eyes and at me with jealously. I really couldn’t care less. My eyes are glued to my husband, making me feel like I’ve been punched in the uterus. Suddenly, a Buddy Holly song rings out over the store’s PA system and Tommy puts the bag of apples in the cart, quickly moving to stand in front of me. 

“Let’s dance with mommy!”

Jax looks at me, his grin wide on his face with his few teeth showing as Tommy dances and sings with him, moving his little arms in time with me as I dance too. When the song ends, I look up at Tommy and find him already looking at me, his eyes soft and full of love that washes over me, making me warm all over. He takes my hand and pulls me to his side, leaning down to press his soft lips to mine. When he pulls back just a bit, he looks into my eyes and I nearly melt into a puddle there in the produce section. 

“I love you, Daisy.”

“I love you, Tommy.”

“You boys are sure working hard on that sandcastle! You want to take a juice break?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the sun as it blares down on the sandy beach. 

“No, mommy. Build!” Jax waves a hand at me, never removing his eyes from the sand castle Tommy is building in front of him. He’s pointing out different structures, the way to build it properly so it wouldn’t fall over and Jax stares between the castle and his dad with rapt attention. When the wave finally comes in, the water fills the moat perfectly, not even a crumble of sand coming down from the castle. Jax squeals with delight as Tommy hoists him in the air, laughing as he spins him around. 

“Great job, Jax and Uncle Tommy!” Sarah smiles wide at Jax as he takes her hand, pointing out all of the things that Tommy did to her. Joel stands to the side, making notes on what he’d do different until Tommy punches him in the arm.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Language.”

Joel kneels down by Sarah and Jax, attempting to make his changes while Tommy walks back over to me, trying to insert himself next to me on my towel.

“Excuse you, sir. I do believe there is no room on this towel for you.”

He slides his hand over my bare skin, lifting himself to lay partially on me, his hand cupping my face, turning me to him. He leans down, his nose tracing a line up my neck and I let out a puff of air, my hand immediately coming up to scratch his scalp. His lips meet mine, his tongue gently prodigy at my lips and I slowly open them. He moans into my mouth, his hips slightly moving of their own accord. I turn towards him, throwing my leg over his back-

“Hey! There are kids here!” Joel yells from the sandcastle.

Tommy turns his head to the side and yells back. “How do you think they got here?”

“Get over here asshole and help me finish this castle so we can have lunch.”

Tommy chuckles and kisses me once more before leaning next to my ear. “We’ll pick this back up later.”

He pushes himself up, dusting his trunks off before turning and running back towards them, Jax and Sarah screaming with delight as he chases them around, nearly destroying all of Joel’s work. Soon Joel has joined in too, mostly to tackle Tommy into the sand, the kids’ laughter ringing out loud when Tommy’s butt hits the ground.

“It still needs a little work, but Joel and I can finish that up. Maybe make it self sustainable,” Tommy explains as we drive down the very narrow road that I eventually realize is a driveway. We pull up to a cabin that Tommy has definitely undersold.

“Tommy, we can’t afford this. Not even splitting it with Joel.”

We pull up in front of the modestly sized cabin that looks like it belongs on HGTV. And he says it isn’t even finished?

“Well that’s the thing. You remember the Jones’s? That big client we landed right around the time we uh, got together?” Tommy smiles and clears his throat, his eyes quickly darting to the rearview mirror to make sure Jax was still asleep. 

I nod. “Of course. They’re your biggest client.”

“Yeah, well I guess they have too much property and just want to get rid of it.”

“And they’re just giving it to you?”

He chuckles, putting the truck into park and shifting to look at me. “Nah. But they offered it to Joel ‘n me for an extreme discount. Less than what they paid for it, even including the upgrades.”

I glance out of the front window towards the cabin before looking at him again. “Why would they do that?”

Tommy shrugs. “What can I say? Mrs. Jones loves me. Anyway, they have it almost finished, just a bit of work on the patio and then basic stuff inside.”

His eyes are bright and excited. I can tell he really wants to do this and honestly, it would be really great to have somewhere to come to relax and unwind with the family. 

“Tell me more about it.”

His smile lights up the cab and I already know I’m on board with whatever he says. That damn smile with those fucking freckles kills me every time. 

“There’s 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms. All en suite. A big kitchen with those double stoves you always talked about, a nice sized dining area we could put a nice big table in, a stone fireplace that nearly spans the whole wall. Oh, and uh walk in closets and a sort of game room? Activity room? Somethin’ like that. And…let’s just go inside. I’ll give you the tour.”

Jax wakes up at that moment, yawning and looking around with his eyes that match his dad’s as he takes it in. “Daddy, we go in?”

“Yeah, bud. You wanna see?”

He nods furiously. “Yes!”

Tommy gives us the tour, Jax squealing with delight at nearly everything and I can’t blame him. This place is gorgeous. But Tommy also points out the practicality of everything, from the titanium shutters that will board the windows when no one is here to the laundry room that I always wanted, and the fact that he and Joel were planning on finishing the self-sustainable grid and water system, so we wouldn’t have to worry about the power going out, which was apparently pretty common all the way out here.

“And over there?” Tommy points to a space out in the backyard as Jax runs around laughing. “I was thinkin’ we could put in a greenhouse and root cellar. I know how you always wanted one.”

“Really? You think Joel would be ok with that?”

“Darlin’, if we weren’t already married, he’d have proposed after tasting one of your tomatoes.”

“Explains the moaning when he eats one.”

We have a laugh and watch Jax run around for a while between the trees. He comes running up to us and Tommy picks him up, swinging him through the air, Jax’s scream of happiness ringing out. 

“Daddy, we stay here?”

Oh shit. They’re both looking at me with the same puppy eyed look. I cave instantly, although I was already going to agree. 

“Only if daddy and Uncle Joel think they can handle it.”

“Pass me the hammer please, Jax.”

It’s been a few months since we officially purchased the cabin, splitting it with Joel. All of us have spent several weekends here, Tommy and Joel finishing the upgrades to make it self sustainable, adding the greenhouse and other little touches. Today was the day they would finish the back porch. Sarah has been inside the greenhouse with me, helping me plant some vegetables and things in the root cellar. I come up to watch them for a bit, Jax following around his dad, tiny little toolbelt around his waist, complete with a giant belt buckle like his dad’s. He’s turned his hat backwards and is bending over Tommy’s large tool bag, tiny little finger pressed to his chin while his eyes scan the tools. He grabs one using both hands and holds it up, smiling triumphantly as Tommy praises him.

“Look at my strong little man! Let me see your muscles.” He takes the hammer from Jax who immediately flexes his little arms. Tommy squeezes his biceps and whistles. “You’ve got some strong muscles there, son.”

“There’s no way. Let me see.” Joel stops what he’s doing, Jax turning to him and waiting his approval. Joel raises his eyebrows and looks at him. “Wow Jax! I bet you could even pick me up!”

“I can! Watch!” Jax runs up to Joel and throws his arms around his leg, trying to lift him. Joel discreetly goes up on his toes, acting shocked and impressed that Jax could lift him.

They finish the porch and pull out a folding table, Sarah and I quickly grabbing some chairs to put around it, adding a big pitcher of lemonade that Sarah had made to the middle of it. Tommy and Joel argue at the grill for a bit over how exactly to grill the steaks, but eventually we all sit, admiring the setting sun and their hard work. 

Many weekends are spent here, holidays too, all of us loving the peace and quiet. A short ways from the back of the house is a giant lake that is shared with a handful of other cabins across the way. Tommy and Joel vow to look up someone to build a dock eventually, so until then, we have to push the little pontoon boat into the water ourselves, bringing it back up onto it’s trailer and storing it in the outside garage. The fact that this place came with it’s own boat still blows my mind. 

Sarah and Jax end up sharing one of the bedrooms, complete with bunk beds, their laughter and talking echoing down the hall until one of us has to tell them to go to bed. I love their relationship, Sarah treating Jax like the sibling she never had, and Jax the same with her. 

3 years after Jax was born…

“Pancakes, mommy?” Jax asks me as he walks behind me into the kitchen. 

“Let me see, bud.” I rummage through the cabinets, no pancake mix to be found. “Sorry, Jax. No pancakes today. How about a smoothie?” He nods enthusiastically and tells me a laundry list of fruits he wants, some completely made up. I’m gathering up what we have when Tommy comes downstairs, his red shirt unbuttoned, showing off his white tank underneath, stretching out over his large chest. He walks up to me and cages me in against the counter, both of his hands planted on either side of me, smiling when I look up at him. 

“Mornin’ darlin’.”

“Morning.”

He presses his lips to mine, his tongue coming out to slide across my lips and I moan slightly, fisting my hands in his tank top as he closes his arms around me. I can feel him growing more needy but a plastic cup clatters across the floor, breaking the moment. 

“Sorry!” 

Tommy breaks the kiss and chuckles, turning to see Jax chasing down the cup that was bouncing across the tile floor. 

“That’s alright bud. I’ll just have to-” 

Jax squeals as Tommy launches himself at him, chasing our little 3 year old around the kitchen. He bolts and runs towards his room upstairs and Tommy slows, stopping next to me to give Jax a moment to get into his favorite hiding spot, deep in his closet. 

“He’s a fast little bugger, isn’t he?” Tommy catches his breath while I hand him a to-go mug of coffee. 

“That’s why I don’t blink ever… You going to be early today?”

Tommy thinks a moment. “We have to meet the suppliers for this one gig and meet with the Rivieras to try and finalize that building deal. I think I’ve got them, just gotta cover a couple more things.”

“Don’t forget about Joel’s birthday today.”

Tommy takes a sip of his coffe and savors it for a quick second. “Yeah I know. I gotta pick him up today. His truck is in the shop.”

“Again? He really needs a new one.”

Tommy sighs. “Yeah. He’ll wait until that thing is drove into the ground though.” He pauses and looks at the counter behind me where Jax’s smoothie sits waiting to be blended. “Smoothie? No pancakes?”

“Out of mix. I’ll pick some up tomorrow at the store.”

He sticks out his lip to pout and I can’t resist it. I reach out, sliding my fingers behind his large belt buckle and pulling him to me, leaning up to bite his lip. 

“Careful there, miss. Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

I open my mouth to respond when Jax yells from upstairs. “DAAAAAD!”

Tommy chuckles, kissing me one more time. “That’s my queue. We will finish this tonight.” His eyes are dark as they meet mine and I push my legs together, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by Tommy. He winks before leaving the kitchen, moving exaggeratedly loud up the stairs. A moment goes by before Jax squeals and Tommy comes back downstairs with him hooked under his arm like a football, kicking and laughing the whole way. He sets him down and Jax tries to play fight him. They wrestle a moment before Tommy pretends to get hit hard, crumbling to the floor as Jax jumps on him and he grunts. 

“You got me, little man!” 

“Look mommy! I win!”

“My strong boy!”

Jax puffs out his chest as Tommy stands, giving him a hug before putting on his boots. 

“You be good for your mama today, alright?”

“We go to cabin tomorrow? With Uncle Joel and Sarah? And Uncle Joel's um..girl friend?"

Tommy nods. “Yeah, bud. If they’re still up for it. But-" He glances up at me "- Rose has to work so she can't make it. Guess the hospital needs extra hands."

This seems acceptable to Jax and he bounds back into the kitchen, sitting at the table to wait for his smoothie, pulling some coloring books and crayons towards him that were on the table. I walk Tommy to his truck where he quickly spins me around and pushes my back into it, kissing me deeply, one hand gripping my hip and the other twisting in my hair. He whimpers as he pushes himself against me and I almost tell him to meet me in the backseat. 

“We do have neighbors, Tommy.”

“So?”

“They have kids.”

He sighs before pulling back. “I can’t wait to get you on my own for a bit this weekend. I gotta make sure you remember how to yell my name.”

My knees go weak as his lustful gaze bores into mine. “Th-that’s good because I need to see how many sounds I can pull from you.”

Tommy groans and kisses me once more before he gets in his truck, turning it on. 

“See you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I watch him drive off, giving me a wave before his truck disappears around the corner. Heading back inside, I see that Jax had moved from the table to turn on the tv. He was pressing buttons on the remote and getting more and more frustrated as the news program won’t click off. Instead, it gets progressively louder as he jams the wrong button.

“...continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising US citizens…”

“MAMA HELP!” Jax shoves the remote at me and covers his ears while I tap a few buttons, quickly putting on PBS Kids. He settles on the couch and I let him drink his smoothie there, snuggling up next to him as I sip my own. 

I spend some time playing with Jax, but then decide to start packing for the trip to the cabin. Joel had wanted us all to go for his birthday so I packed up some things for the 3 of us, scanning the cabinets and tossing some small snacks into our snack bag. We’ll have to stop at the store on the way. When Tommy doesn’t show up for dinner that night, I start to worry. He usually calls when he’s running late, although he was trying to close that deal today. I just tuck Jax into bed when suddenly, my phone rings and I rush to pick it up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey darlin’.” Tommy sounds apologetic and I sigh.

“You’re going to be extra late, aren’t you?”

He sighs into the phone. “Yeah. I mean, we closed the deal with the Riveras.”

“That’s great news!”

“It is. But since it’s Joel’s birthday, I told him I’ll take the Riveras out to celebrate the closing deal so he can go home to Sarah.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“The best. ‘M sorry, darlin’. You’ll be ok to pack by yourself?”

“Of course. I’ll pack your bag for you too.”

“Thanks. I’ll have to make it up to you this weekend.”

“I can think of a few ways you can do that.”

Tommy clears his throat and I realize he must not be alone in the room. “I can’t wait. Gotta go. Love you. Kiss Jax goodnight for me.”

“I will. Love you too.”

I cleaned up the kitchen and packed a bag for him, taking my time in getting ready for bed, intending to wait up for him. But the second I start reading my book, I pass out, book open in my hands. 

Until the screams outside rip me from sleep.

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21@gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry  

[aperrywilliams]

The Reid’s Effect (Spencer Reid x GN!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader.

Summary: Penelope and Luke have been nagging Spencer to get a pet. Spencer isn’t very convinced but ends nonetheless at a dog shelter’s door. He hasn’t had the chance to go inside, though.

Word Count: 1.3k (short, for a change)

Warnings: Dogs? (if that is a warning). Just fluff.

A/N: Spencer Reid, dogs, and meet-cute. What else can I ask for?

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I don’t think it's a good idea. I never thought it was, and I don't think it is. But Garcia and Luke have been very insistent lately.

I know they have good intentions, but what would I do with a pet? I barely owned a fish once, and it's better not to tell how that turned out.

But here I am, in front of a dog shelter near my apartment complex. I’m not planning to go inside, though; I’m just mulling the idea and reciting all the reasons why I should keep walking home.

It's a bad idea. Period.

I’m about to resume my walk, but I freeze when I see a dog running toward me and someone chasing it, calling its name.

“Roco! Stop!”

But the dog must be deaf because it never slows down a bit.

As I see it approach, I do the math: 70 lbs are running at 25 miles per hour. Dear God.

I should have stepped aside, but when I realized it was too late. The animal collides with me.

A sudden “oof” is all I can say when I lose my balance falling to the ground.

“Roco! What have you done?! Bad dog!” the presumable owner chastised the animal while clipping a leash to his collar. That's when they pull the dog off of me. I am still on the floor, trying to figure out what happened. As I sit, I inspect my body, looking for cuts or bruises, but I only see some dirt and dog hair on my clothes. Great.

“I’m so sorry,” they say, offering me a hand to stand up. That is when I look up and see them.

Wow, so beautiful, I thought. And I just made a fool of myself, beaten on the floor by a pet—what a sight.

With frightened eyes, they kept staring at me. Concern over their face noticing I couldn’t speak.

“Are you hurt? Do you need me to call someone to check on-?”

“Oh. No. No. I’m okay,” I say, accepting their hand to stand up.

That hand feels so warm and soft in mine. It's a very nice feeling. I would have liked to hold it for a little bit longer.

Hey Reid, what about the pathogens that could be transferred right now? For a strange reason, I don’t care. Maybe it is the way they are looking at me or the way inspecting if I’m hurt. I don’t know.

As I brush the dirt off my clothes, the apologies come again.

“I’m so sorry. Roco is a bit intense sometimes. I didn't notice when he let go of the leash. I tried to reach him. I'm so sorry.”

They look so embarrassed right now that I don't have the heart to say what consequences could have a reckless action like that.

Although those consequences made us cross paths, so I don't think it is a terrible thing right now.

“It's good that I was in the middle of his race then. So you could catch him before he ran wildly across the street,” I point, trying to make the whole thing a little bit lighter. And I think it worked when I saw them laugh.

That laugh? Heavenly music to my ears. I have never been keen on the deliberate expression of feelings, but on them, I don't mind if that leads to hearing their laugh again.

“You’re right. Though, I doubt it's what you expected to happen on your walk,” they pointed, petting the dog’s head as the animal poked their leg to call for attention.

Shush, you have the privilege all the time. Let them stay with me for a couple of seconds. I plead to the animal in my mind.

“Oh no. I do this all the time.”

What? What am I saying? Joking about being hit by a dog in the street? I don't feel like me at this moment, to be honest.

“Well, Roco and I thank you for your service. Right, buddy?”

As a cue, the animal starts to wiggle his tail, looking at me with his tongue out.

Where is the Reid effect?

“My pleasure,” I respond, giving my best less-awkward smile. They grin back, and I swear it’s the new Wonder of the World.

“Thanks again, uh - Sorry I didn’t ask you your name,” they say.

Oh. They want to know my name.

“Spencer.”

“Right. Spencer,” they repeat, and my name sounds so good rolling from their tongue that I get goosebumps.

Get a grip, Reid!

“I’m (Y/N). And you already know Roco,” they point to the dog, who barks at hearing his name.

“Yeah. I already did. But our first meeting was a little rough?, so it’s nice to greet you properly, Roco,” I tell the dog, who is waging his tail faster and approaches to tap my legs with his two front paws.

They laugh at the dog’s reaction. I could be used to that.

If only I could have the nerve to ask for their number. What are you saying, Reid? You’re not Derek Morgan. Even if you could, they wouldn’t give it to you.

“I think he likes you,” they say casually, tightening the leash a bit so the dog doesn’t bounce over me. I smile, red tinting my cheeks as if the compliment were liking them and not their dog. Wishful thinking.

I don’t know what else to say or do. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I try to accept the idea I should let (Y/N) go and I should go my way. To a cold and dull apartment, never again having the privilege of marveling at their presence or hearing their beautiful voice.

As I'm about to face my fate, Roco starts barking again, causing (Y/N) to kneel in front of him.

“What’s it, buddy?”

At the cute nickname, the dog licks their face affectionately, and (Y/N) laughs.

"Oh, that’s so? Do you think he’ll accept?" (Y/N) speaks to Roco, who responds with another bark. Maybe at another time, I would find it a little too much to see someone talking to their dog like that, but now it’s the opposite. I think it's sweet. I think (Y/N) is sweet.

Standing, (Y/N) turns their gaze to me, a shy smile gracing their lips. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what is this about. (Y/N) notice my confusion.

“Roco is still very sorry for what he did and suggested I could buy you a coffee as a peace offering.”

My jaw drops a couple of feet after hearing the words. My mind is trying to catch what is happening.

But my astonishment is confused with discomfort, so they quickly speak again.

“Sure, if it is something you could be interested in. You don’t have to, of course,” they added, almost stuttering. That’s new. It’s always me who stutters in situations like these. Who do I want to fool, anyway? Something like this had never happened to me before!

“Yes!” I suddenly blurted, almost making (Y/N) jump. Crap! Can I be less noticeable in my eagerness? “I mean, yeah. It’s something I could be interested in,” I clarify, trying to disguise the sweat in my hands and the pounding of my heart. (Y/N) nods, smiling widely.

“Great! Yeah, that’s great,” they responded, now looking at Roco. “He accepted our offer, buddy,” (Y/N) says and returns their gaze to me. “What do you think? There is a very nice pet-friendly coffee shop two blocks from here. Of course, if you don’t have to be in another place right now.”

Believe me, I wouldn’t think of being somewhere else.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have plenty of time. Shall we?” I offer, signaling to where the coffee shop is.

“Sure! Let’s go,” (Y/N) replies, smiling as they cue Roco with the leash to start walking.

Who would say that Penelope and Luke’s idea ended better than I expected?

Even better, could this be the new Reid’s Effect? I think I need to do more research about that.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey

[sugarsfics]

Hi!! I was wondering if I could request a fluffy story of Eddie with a shy female!reader? basically something where she transferred to Hawkins in the middle of her senior year, and she’s having a hard time talking to people. Super closed off, nervous, horribly shy. But one metalhead notices her and thinks she’s as cute as a damn button…

also could you make her short?🤣 I just love a good short reader haha

Summary: You are the new girl.....when things get ruff a certain metalhead find you quite the caught <3 

Trope: Eddie x shy!reader; friends to crush to maybe lovers?? 

A/N: HIII @laurenandloki I hope you enjoy this I love when Eddie basically adopts the shy girl, I promise you peeps aren’t done with them yet, I want to make them into a little series to have them ofc fall in love and it would have been wayyy to soon to have them date it this one sooooo enjoy <3 

Warning: Cussing, fluff, use of y/n, bullying, small hurt, but a lot of comfort 

Word count: 2.1k 

Alright you got this, you said to yourself it is just another school, no one knows who you are so you can have a new start, how bad can it be? So far it was going well you walked to the office and got your schedule you grimaced at your dad’s last name that cheating scum bag f you found out two months ago you dad had been living a secret life a double life. He said that he started a new position at work where for a week out the month he had to go out of the state to show the higher ups the quota from the month before, well that was a lie. Your mom one day went to the store but had to take the long way due to construction and had to pass by your dad’s work and his car was in the lot she was so confused maybe he forgot something she went to the store and grabbed him so thing for lunch. His car was still in the lot when she came around again. She walked up to his secretary and asked if he was in, she said yes and that his sister was in his office, mind you your dad is an only child, she then walked into the office and found him kissing his supposed sister who had a baby in her hands. His secretary had no idea about the affair and was generous enough to forward mom into a job in Hawkins. So now you are here in Hawkins going into your senior year and starting school in the MIDDLE of the school year, how bad could it be? 

Everything was going great, until “Move it freshman” you were pushed from the back sending you forward, speak up for yourself stop being shy for once in your life “I-I-I am n-not a f-freshman" “Oh” the jock said “You must be from the middle school” the hallway erupted with laughter then the bell rang and everyone went their own ways when trying to get up a ringed hand came into view “Here let me help you up” a voice said you quietly thank them while getting up but didn’t make any eye contact you were too embarrassed. They lower themselves to make the eye contact you were met when the warmest brown eyes ever “Hi” the person said “Sorry about Jason he is a hugeee dick and think being mean to hot people it cool hence why I am his main target” he joked “Oh ok” “Yea oh let me see your schedule” he grabbed it out of your hand “Oh nice we have a lot of classes together including lunch here let me walk you” the walk was very short just to the end of the hallway “Here we are first period math it sucks having it be the first class of the day but then you won’t have to worry about it anymore” you both walked in and all eyes were on you fuck “Hey teach-” “Sit Munson your late” “I was-” “Sit” the teacher didn’t look up from his book “Can I help you” “Um yes I am new here” you showed him your schedule he huffed “Take any open seat” the only open seat was in the back next to that Munson? Was that his name? “Glad to have company back here” he said you gave him a thumbs up and turn to the board “You don’t talk a lot do you” he asked you shook your head “You should you have a pretty voice” Was he flirting with me? I only said like two words to him and he kinda called me hot did he call me hot? I DON’T KNOW. You just nodded at went back to writing notes. “Oh, by the way my name is Eddie” finally his name “Y/n” “Pretty name for a pretty girl” How bad could it be. 

Eddie didn’t have second period with you, but he did walk you to the class. When exiting the classroom, you saw him running to you holding out his arm to take you to third period, which you did have with him. It was the same thing you went up to the teacher, they would tell you to sit in the open seat which was always next to Eddie, which you really did mind. Eddie noticed you didn’t really talk but he wanted to get to know you more, for the first time that day Eddie pulled out his notebook and tore out a page. A folded paper plopped on your desk you look at Eddie as he had a smirk you opened the folded paper in black writing was Hi you became to write looking for the teacher before throwing at his table in pink writing Hi. Your new form of communication, Eddie wrote so much that period, the teacher looked confused thinking he was writing notes, you learned he has his own club, he has a job, has sheep? And is in a band. Fourth period came rolling around but this time the only empty seat was in front, nowhere near Eddie, there was a pit in your stomach the same one you get when it is your turn to present. Was it weird that you grown attached to Eddie so fast? That class went by slow not sure if it was the lack of Eddie or that lunch was next, lunch!! where are you going to sit? The was a nice tree outside? Maybe the library? Your car? Maybe Eddie? No I am not going to get my hopes up he probably won’t want the short shy girl sitting with him and his friends. *ring* oh now the bell wants to go off. You slowly packed your things still trying to think of where you will be eating. You turn and ran into a chest “Woah slow down their short stuff” “Sorry” you mutter. He walked out you were walking toward the parking lot when you felt a tug on your backpack “Where are you going” he ask “My car” “Oh did you leave you lunch in there” “No” “Then why are you going” you can’t tell him that you are going to eat in your car like a loser “I-I-I" “You were going to eat in your car” he questioned “n-no” you mumbled “Yea you aren’t you are seating with me” “I am?” “Yep let’s get going” “With your friends” “Yea don’t worry they don’t bite, maybe Matt, but I will protect you” He will protect me? How bad could it be? 

Eddie pulled you in front of him and started steering you using your shoulders he made little car noises and did a screech when stopping in front of three boys “Welcome to the table” he said bowing pulling a seat from the table next to them. “Here sit” “Thank you” Eddie’s friends stare at you, you started to shrink under their gaze “Quit staring” he told them “But she is a girl” said a one “Ok and” Eddie responded “Girls don’t sit or even associate with us” said another “Who even are you I have never seen you before” asked the last one “Ya’ll are acting like she is an alien your freaking her out” he turned to you “See this is exactly they are the reason why pretty girls like you don’t sit with us” he said patting your head “Oh this is y/n, y/n this is Jeff, Gareth, and Matt” he said point to each “By the way she is new which is why you haven’t seen her before she just moved her from...” he said looking at you “Oh um- New yor-” “NEW YORK why would anyone want to move from New York to sleepy town Hawkins” Jeff exclaimed “Long story” you said rolling your eyes. Eddie leaned on your shoulder and whispered, “You are going to tell me the story later right?” Are you ready to tell him the story? Is it too early in your friendship to talk about something deep? “Sure when we have time” How bad can it be? 

“No way man the outer path is more suitable” Three younger boys came to sit at the table “Are you an idiot this is Eddie’s campaign we are talking about he is going to make the happier light place have way more trouble we should take the “dark way” as you call it” said the one in a cap on “Ah my sheep still going on about last night campaign” “Yea you ended we thing were heating up” said another wearing a track suit “Well you will have to see tomorrow night I have a few tricks up my sleeves or maybe a giant or two” the table erupt with yelling making you jump “you ok” Eddie asked you nodded “Who is that” asked the one with hair similar to Eddie’s but shorter “Oh this is y/n, y/n these are the sheep Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, sheep, she is an honorary member of Hellfire” “I am?” “Yes you are” the boys went back to talking about the campaign when tapped Eddie’s shoulder “um- what is a campaign” when you asked the whole table feel silent “How is this girl a honorary member if she doesn’t even know what a campaign is?” asked Mike “I-” Eddie interrupted you “I am Master here so I call the shots you either be nice to the pretty girl or leave” this is like the 3rd pretty girl Mike sat down and mutter something under his breath “What was that” Eddie said “Nothing” “Good” he turn to you and you were pulling out your lunch bag “Ooo what are we having for lunch” he asked “Oh um I have a sandwich, chips, and some cookies I made” you notice that Eddie didn’t have a lunch in front of him, he has been nice to you all day so it was time to return the favor, you gave him a half of your sandwich and put the chips in the middle of you two “We can have the cookies later” you said smiling up at him he thanked you and overly exaggerated about how good the food was. You really liked Eddie, his friends too, mike you need to get used to but how bad could it be 

Lunch ended and Eddie kept you under his arm. You both had the last two classes together so it was really nice. You both still passed notes, it was really easy not getting caught the teachers didn’t look at Eddie’s direction that much. The final bell rang to go home. Eddie walked you to your locker, “So how was your first day” “surprisingly really good” “Yea” he smiled “Yes I had a cool master to show me around” you joke. He loved that you became more open with him. “So l/n what are you doing after school” you froze at the mention of your last name, “c-can you please not call me that” you said quietly “oh I am sorry I didn’t know.... is that a part of your long story?” “Yea I-I have to go” you said closing your locker, he saw you closing up again fuck Eddie you were so close “I am sorry” he said catching up to you “Please I didn’t know fuck I should have ask” who stopped at your car and took a breath “No I should be sorry for acting like that I am really sensitive to my last name and you obviously didn’t know because you don’t know me and you probably won’t want to due to my outburst-” “I would like to though” “Like to what?” “Get to know you, you seem really cool and pretty and you didn’t judge me over what people were saying or my friends and I being the freaks for the first time in a while I felt like myself at school with you” “I would really like to get to know you too” “Great ca-can I have your number” he said rubbing his neck. You pulled out your pink pen and wrote your number on his arm “Do you have like a curfew or can I call you whenever” he asked “Whenever” “Ok cool cool....can I call you when you get home” “Yes you can” “Great see you well actually hear you then” he replied “Bye y/n” “Bye master” you got inside your car waved at Eddie and drove away. Eddie watched you leave then pulled out all of the notes you have passed throughout the day and put it in his glove department, but he grabbed his favorite one, the first one, and put it on his dashboard he looked at his arm and smile, he got the pretty girl's number. You drove home quickly but safely you hurried to grab a snack and water ran to your room and waiting by your phone. Five minutes later the phone rang. “Hello” you spoked his voice boomed “Hey its Eddie” “Hi” “I hope you have nothing to do because I am planning to talk to you all night” How bad could it be.

tag list: @thefreak0fhawkinshigh 

Let me know if you want to be added<3

[niki-phoria]

Hello, first of, I just wanna say your writing and stories has help me like literally 😭 so thank you so much!!!🤍🤍🤍

I was wondering if you could do Jake and Jay from Enphyen x male reader. Since valentines is tomorrow, maybe Jake and jay is trying to impress and try to get the male readers' attention. Jake and jay fights for Male reader to be their Valentine. For example maybe Jake and Jay trying to impress male reader with their muscles🥲. Ending could be fluff with male reader going out with both of them. Again if you don't wanna write this you don't have to lol. Have a great wonderful day!!!!!!!🤍🤍🤍🫧🫧

they look SO GOOD omg mullet jake >> and jay's earrings sknlknsl

pairing: non idol!jay x non idol!jake x male!reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.2k

includes: poly relationship (at the very end end), high school au, probably poor descriptions of high school, blushy jake, blushy jay, i love blushy boys lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i made this a high school au bc i had a lot of inspiration for the idea i hope that's okay lol this is being posted after valentines day so i just made it into a normal confession fic. it means so much that you like my writing <33 i really liked this idea, i hope you like it :))

additional notes: it physically pains me that so many idols love justin beiber for some reason what does that man have that i do not /j i was looking for any solo covers from jay but all i could find was a duet with heeseung for off my face so that's what he sings here and the boquet is based on this pic

requests open !! read my rules first

you’re met with the overwhelming smell of flowers as soon as you open your locker. you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at the sight before you. a bouquet of purple dahlias sits delicately placed between your textbooks. 

“i take it you like them?” jake asks, leaning against the locker next to yours. you smile, taking them out and holding them against your chest. 

“i love them,” you smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “thank you!” 

a light flush spreads across jake’s face when you pull away. “i’m glad,” he murmurs. he absentmindedly plays with the strap of his backpack. “hey, i was wondering-” 

his question is cut off by the shrill noise of the school bell, officially announcing the start of the school day. slowly, the student body begins dispersing through the hallways, entering various different classrooms. “shit, i have a test in second period,” you curse to yourself. “oh, what were you gonna ask?” 

“it’s nothing important.” jake’s blush gets a little darker as he waves you off. “i’ll walk you to class?” 

“sure.” you set the flowers back as you close your locker, eagerly returning to jake’s side. his hand brushes against yours before he slowly reaches over, taking your hand into his. 

you dramatically sigh, throwing your head back in frustration. jay stifles a chuckle as he watches you roll onto the floor, laying on the carpet. “math sucks,” you whine. “i hate it here.” 

“what are you working on?” 

“trigonometry.” you nearly hiss the word. 

“come on, it can’t be that bad.” you lift your head to glare at him through your fringe before dramatically laying back down. 

“i am but a poor teenage boy. i can’t be expected to memorize the unit circle!” 

jay laughs, setting his notes aside and kneeling down next to you. “alright, why don’t we take a break?” you sit up as he walks over to the other side of his room, grabbing his guitar from it’s resting place against the wall. 

“ooh, gonna play me a song, pretty boy?” the nickname makes a dark flush spread across his face as he sits across from you. 

“i wont be able to if you keep flustering me like this,” he whispers. you chuckle. jay sets the guitar across his thigh, positioning his fingers along the neck. “i’m a little nervous, i haven’t played in front of anyone before.” 

“well, i’m honored to have the privilege of being the first.” he nervously repositions his fingers on the chords, staring down at his hands. “hey,” you reach over to grab his hand, making him look at you. “you’ll do great. i’m sure of it.” 

jay smiles, nodding. “thanks.” he takes a breath before he begins, slowly strumming the strings. “‘cause i’m off my face, in love with you / i’m out of my head, so into you / and i don’t know how you do it / but i’m forever ruined by you.” 

jay lets the final chords ring out. you sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments. “you’re incredible.” a flustered smile makes it’s way across his face, blush deepening a little. 

“thank you.” he whispers. an odd tension hangs in the air when he looks up at you. you stare into his eyes, deep brown pulling you in. their darkness is alluring. in the next minute you sit staring at him in silence, taking in every part of him, you decide you’d like to get lost in them forever. 

you sigh, setting your belongings onto the library table. jake stifles a laugh as he watches you. “you know we’re gonna have to pick all of this up later, right?” 

you playfully glare at him, ignoring him as you set your bag down on the floor. across from you jay smiles. “you know y/n. he can’t study if he doesn’t have a highlighter in every color in case he needs to take notes.” 

“at least i’m prepared,” you retort, opening your computer. “what are we working on anyways?” 

“chemistry lab.” 

“don’t you actually need to take notes though?” your eyes widen as you look over at jake. 

“notes? did i miss something?” 

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you. “for history. about the korean war?” 

jay chuckles. “did you forget?” 

“i think so.” you close your laptop, sliding your chair back to stand up. “can you watch my stuff? i need to get my textbook.” 

“go ahead.” 

“thanks.” 

jay waits for you to leave the library before leaning in a little closer to jake, voice dropping to a whisper. “are you two going out?” 

“what?” jake cocks his head at him. “no, why would you think that.” 

“i heard about the flowers.” 

“oh, that’s just a little joke we do every year.” jay nods. “why do you ask?” 

“i was planning on asking him out.” jake nearly freezes as he stares at his friend. this time it’s jay who’s confused at his reaction. “what is it?” 

“i, um…” jake glances over his shoulder before dropping his voice even lower. “i like him too.” 

“i thought you did.” jay has to stop himself from laughing at jake’s shocked expression. “come on, you’re not exactly… subtle.” 

“oh, and you are?” 

“listen, i don’t want this to affect our relationship, but i also don’t want to miss out on a chance with y/n.” 

“so, what are you thinking?” 

“i’m thinking we both ask him out and let him choose.” 

“choose?” jay shrugs. 

“i mean, unless you have a better idea.” 

“no, no. when were you planning on asking him?” 

“sometime tomorrow. probably at a cafe.” 

jake nods. “that works for me.” 

the cafe is nearly empty when you enter. you spot jake and jay immediately, both sitting together at a table. jay waves you over, smiling when you sit down. “sorry i’m late, i wasn’t expecting the rain.” 

“don’t be.” jake shakes his head. he slides a cup across to you. “we got you an americano.” 

“oh, thank you.” the cup is warm against your hand. you take your jacket off, setting it on the chair beside you. jay and jake share a glance together. you cock your head at them in confusion. “what are you planning?” 

“we’ve been talking, and we wanted to ask…” jake begins. 

“we both like you.” jay finishes. you raise an eyebrow at them. 

“and you want me to choose?” 

“that’s… kinda what we were planning, yeah.” 

you have to stop yourself from laughing in disbelief. “i’ve also been thinking and i like you too. both of you.” 

“so, you mean…” 

“listen, i really like you guys. and i’m willing to try this if you are.” 

jake is the first to react, reaching out to take your hand. “i really like you. i want to try.” 

you look over at jay. he contemplates for a second before nodding. “as long as we take it slow.” 

“we don’t have to do anything until all of us are comfortable.” jake squeezes your hand. 

“does this mean i can call you mine?” jay smiles. 

“i’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me.” 

[cyberr-v0id]

Some people are so insufferable about maths.

I don’t mean like, treating it like it’s amazing and can do wonderful stuff, because you know what? It can do wonderful things when used properly!

I mean how I’ll be talking about how I can’t do maths, and someone who is way better than me and can do maths will be like ‘noooo!!!!! Don’t say thatttt! You’re great at maths!’

Or I’ll mention something like ‘I literally cannot do maths, I just wrote the decision symbol instead of the equals sign, and I’m not even doing a maths problem 😭’

And someone will say ‘uh, you do know that actually has nothing to do with your ability to do maths, right?’

WRONG AGAIN MATEY. If I am unable to distinguish between mathematical symbols when even writing them out for shorthand in a sentence, how, pray tell, am I supposed to be able to use them properly in an equation? How am I supposed to read when the question wants me to do and to properly do that?

Another thing I’ve had people say to me is along the lines of ‘I don’t think that anyone’s actually bad at maths, just that some people aren’t good at teaching it’

Hmm, yes, ok, see I’ve had- and forgive me if this is wrong, I’m not the best at counting- over eight teachers since being at this school, and I still can’t do maths. I had to teach myself ratio over the holidays.

The other day I had a maths exam. Real important one, fate of my future depends on it etc. I can’t get a proper good grade on it anyways because of how the system works, I can only get up to a five, so that’s two pass grades possible four fail grades. During the exam I had to keep restarting my questions because I had read the numbers in the wrong order (eg 16937 would become 19673) or written my numbers the wrong way around (eg 4 facing the wrong way)

I told my mother about it and how this has always happened and she, a psychotherapist who’s job entails recognising neurodivergencies in children, got upset that I hadn’t said anything to her before, because I could have dyscalculia and if she had known then she could have applied for support. But see, I had spoken to someone about it before- my maths teacher! Who should have been the perfect person to deal with this, if she hadn’t brushed it over like almost everyone else

You know what is also a symptom of dyscalculia? Not being able to distinguish between mathematical symbols!

So, to conclude:

Yes maths is great and can be really useful

Not being able to distinguish maths signs (➕➖➗✖️🟰 etc) actually has a big effect on one’s ability to do maths

Some people actually are just bad at maths, and your attempts at trying to convince them that they actually are good helps no one and just makes you seem like a privileged son of a salt biscuit

Not being able to read numbers in the correct order or right them the correct way round is also an issue with doing maths

Mathematical dyslexia aka dyscalculia effects a persons ability to: do maths, identify maths symbols, and read numbers in the correct order, as well as struggling to count

[discocannon8002]

I thought of this and kind of wish it was reality for me (the good parts. The bad parts already exist somewhat for me.) so here you go have a very small little… story? Idk what it is. But it is angst with a good ending so be warned. None of these names are our real names.

Tw: sh, self loathing, medication, slight swearing, depression, suicidal mentioning, blood

“I’m pathetic.” the shaky voice that left my lips only seemed to prove my point.

In the bathroom and sitting on the floor. I can’t even sleep without meds, without talking to many of my meds. I never take more in a day than the Max on the bottle, so it’s not really overdosing, right? It doesn’t count, it shouldn’t, it can’t.

I look at the bruise in the strange place on my hand where I had striked myself multiple times. Probably more than one hundred times now.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath. As far as people know, I don’t swear. I shouldn’t swear; I can’t swear.

As far as people know I’m innocent. but in reality I’m far from it. This was never supposed to go this far, never supposed to leave marks. I thought I could stop on my own. I thought it didn’t count as self harm because it never caused marks or anything more than a slight headache. Never any blood or injuries, just pain.

Pain because I needed it. Pain because I deserved it. Pain because I needed to hit something, needed to get my anger out, and I didn’t want to hurt anything else so I hurt myself. That was all it started as, all this was supposed to be. It was supposed to go away with my depression, my depression was supposed to go away!

I’ve been taking my medicines!! I’ve been doing what I’m supposed to do, so why is it getting worse again? We got rid of the medicine that stopped working after seven years of making my life better, we got rid of the medicine that made me feel this way. I have the new medicine that helps with my newfound mood disorder. We got rid of my period because it always made me suicidal—always made it worse. We did it! We did all of it! Why can’t it just be better?!

why can’t I just be better, why can’t I do things right, why can’t I do history?! I do math so well, why do I have to be so bad at history? Whys can’t I be independent? Why do I always have to get others to help me instead of helping themselves?! Is this why Lily is so distant??

I tear up as my fists collide with my skull again. I should be better. I need to be better. Why am I not better? In the chaos, I knock the scissors off the counter, I grab them. I stare at them for a bit, and I wonder… what would it feel like? To make marks, to draw blood? What would it feel like, would I feel better, would the pain go away? I’ve already taken every anxiety medication prescribed to me tonight. I can’t do any more with medication. Just one little cut. I bring the blade towards my wrist.

“Bee?” A voice startles me out of it, I quickly bring the scissors behind my back as my head snaps up to the person who spoke, and my breath hitches. Lily.

No. No no no no no no no, she can’t know—this isn’t her responsibility, I’m supposed to take care of her! She’s my younger sister, I have to—to—I have to—

“Bee, come on, let me have the scissors, okay?” Her voice seems gentle, but it seems like a trick because her eyes are narrowed, is she upset? Did I make her angry again?

I hiss in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. I hadn’t realized how tight I was gripping the scissors. My shaky hands appear in front of me, I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. Blood.

My tight grip had caused the blades of the scissors to press into my skin. Two lines of blood could be made out through the red liquid streaming down my hand. But I do deserve it. I let Lily find me like this. I deserve it.

I feel the scissors being gently pried from my grip, but I don’t dare look up at her. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking, or feeling. I don’t want to see that look of anger or disappointment or annoyance. I’ve already seen it too many times on her face.

I hear a soft clatter, she’s probably put the scissors down. My gaze is still turned towards the ground, I see a sort of face being formed in the growing pool of thick red liquid in front of me.

“Bee? Can you look at me, please?” Her voice was unsteady, and right in front of me. What? But she was standing up, wasn’t she?

I hesitantly look up and am surprised to see her face just about in front of me, but still about a foot away. She’d crouched down in the time I was looking down. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but her eyes didn’t look angry. She looked almost worried.

“Bee…” she sighs, before bringing me in for a hug.

For a moment I’m frozen in shock. She never hugs me. But then I hug her back with the clean hand. And for a moment we stay that way, just two sisters, hugging. It should be the most normal thing in the world, but for somebody who doesn’t hug much… this hug meant she really cares. I sniffle through tears I didn’t know existed.

“let’s go upstairs, yeah? let’s… let’s get you cleaned up.” She whispers, sounding like she’s also crying, which is confirmed as she pulls away to help me up.

She did care. And I was not alone.