#god i want these two to know each other and be friends

[simpjaes]

exhibition ― s. jy

Requested by anonymous via tumblr: cam boy jake. That’s it.Jake is your college roommate and he needs to buy a camera for his online classes. Curiosity gets the better of him, leading to a lot of extra money and, well, finding out that you’ve been a little too curious about what he's doing.  Or the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either.

MDNI

WORDCOUNT��� 4.9k

PAIRING― cam boy jake x afab reader

CONTENT―  college setting but it’s mosting within the apartment they share, cam boy jake, confused best friend reader, smut WARNINGS― none but brief mention of mommy kink in passing

NOTE―this isn't proof read ;o;

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Seven hundred.” 

“What?” “That’s how much I made last night,” Jake’s eyes shine brighter and brighter with each word, a crooked smile plastered across his face as he sleepily blinks. “I didn’t even have to do anything weird either.” 

You pause as you sip your morning coffee, wrapped up in a blanket and head pounding at the amount of stress and work you’ve had to get done while he was too busy playing with himself on camera for dozens of people. Or maybe hundreds. Thousands?

“What did you do then?” You raise a brow, not entirely checked in on his boasting this morning, though it is impressive.

Jake always shares how much he makes after each session. What started with fifteen dollars is now reaching seven hundred. Surely your best friend isn’t just jerking off, right?

“Well, it was a little weird, but not that bad.” He avoids the question with a vague answer, suddenly feeling his face heat up. “Just a little here and there, y’know?”

You narrow your eyes instantly. So he does do weird shit for money! You knew it! No way could someone make that much money in such a short span of time by regular jerking off. 

“Just a little what?” You stare him down, now placing your coffee on the table and leaning towards him. He knows better than anyone that you, of all people, can point out if he lies. Meaning, he has to be honest. 

And so, he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant about it. 

“Mommy.” He says it like he’s saying any other word, as if he’s uncaring, as if it was worth the money. “Just had to say it a few times and the money came pouring in.” 

Your eyes narrow at him even more.

“What else?” You question. “There’s no way they’d accept it unless you…”

He raises his brow at you now, tilting his head in cheeky curiosity. 

“Unless I cried? Edged? Let them torture me a little bit?” He smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

You’re a bit shocked, the images of what that must have looked like for his viewers forcing your curiosity to grow. His smug face looking back at you now serves as proof that he very well may be into that kind of thing. Almost like he’s sharing a kink with you, which…is not something the two of you do. 

Despite being roommates, and without any mention of how long you’ve been friends, sex has never been a topic until he started this whole camboy thing. 

You remain calm though. This is Jake you’re talking to. He’s the last person you want to see drooling and cumming all over himself. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re a liar. 

All day, all fucking day you’ve thought about it. It’s not that you’re into the kink, or even that you’re into Jake. You’re just…curious about how smug he is about it. And yeah, it’s probably just a huge confidence boost to have all sorts of people rubbing one out to you while paying your bills, but still. 

You’re only a liar because that so-called confidence makes him more open about it. More loud. More comfortable. More…horny? 

You can tell by now, weeks after he started. You could never hear a peep from his bedroom, not a single moan or sigh at first. Now though, he’s only gotten louder. You hear the moans, the dirty talk into his camera, the usernames, all of it.

“Thank you–mmf– cumslut2000.” 

God, you hate that you didn’t cringe hearing him say that. It was the moan mid-sentence maybe, or the sultry tone you’ve never heard from him until now. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together with an annoyed groan, practically leaping for your headphones shortly after because, absolutely the fuck not.

Not Jake. It’s too weird. 

And the days pass like that, casual with him as he discusses his pay where you no longer question because now you’d just think too hard about the details. The nights pass like that too, where he’s louder, louder, louder, until you can almost hear him through your muffled videos and playlists. 

Until you are forced to feel the arousal just like the rest of his viewers. You can’t escape the attraction despite wishing, hoping, fucking praying for your head to stop wanting to hear more. 

You know better than anyone though, hoping and praying does nothing for you and the only thing that will help this situation between your legs is seeing. Proving to yourself, so to say, that seeing Jake act like that will feel gross. It will turn you off. It will solidify that Jake is your best friend and your roommate, nothing more. 

It’s easy to find him too. All you had to do was abandon your headphones tonight, waiting for him to introduce himself via username to his stream. 

Doggystyle02.

That’s what he picked? He can’t be fucking serious. 

You’re excited as you google the username, enabling NSFW search and finding him within seconds. Excited to lose the interest that’s driving you up a fucking wall, that is. And before you click into his stream, you inspect.

Yeah, that’s definitely his abs oiled up in his profile picture. You choose to ignore his uh…thing under his sweats, heavy, leaving a little spot on the front of them. 

Oh, 23k followers? And he started two, maybe three months ago? People want Jake that badly? And you just…live here with him? You get to see him daily, and hear him playing all these kinky roles in real life? God, you just know if the viewers knew they’d be saying shit like “If i lived with you, I’d be on that cock every day.”  Blah, blah, blah. 

They don’t know Jake like you know him. He’s just a dude, not some sex god. 

Then…something in your gut stirs. It flips, it bubbles, your face warms up. The comments on his profile asking him all sorts of things, saying all sorts of things and he just…responds? Reciprocates? 

Cumslut2000 comments: god i want you to hold me down and make me take it

Doggystyle02: Don’t sweet talk me like that, you know how I get. 

Oh, does she now? How the fuck would she know anything about Jake. Your best friend. Your roommate. 

DPlover: can we plllleeease do another private show? 

Doggystyle02: book me for later, i’ll even give you a discount <3

Another private show?! A fucking discount?!  

Blushy: im too shy to talk when you’re online but i really, really want you.

Doggystyle02: you wanna talk in private? I’ll message you and bring you right out of that shell. let me take care of you baby

You’re speechless. During his private job, where he doesn’t share his name but he shows his fucking face, he publicly talks to people like this? He’s never so much as looked at you for too long after you’ve gotten out of the shower, yet he wants to take care of a fucking loser ass bitch who is too shy to talk to him? 

Sexually?! 

Safe to say, never in your life did you ever think you’d find yourself jealous of people who get Jake’s attention. To you, he’s always just been, well, Jake. The guy who ran up your apartment stairs on all fours the day you moved in, the boy who constantly did your homework for you in highschool because he knew you wouldn’t graduate with him if he didn’t, the absolute best friend who followed you to the same college, saved you from the dorms by becoming your roommate, and now…somehow, seems…more than just what he was before.

Surely you’re just horny though. Curious, in the mood, whatever. Anyone would be when there’s a porn set just a wall over, right?

You shake your thoughts, knowing you’ll just make yourself sick if you keep reading all of his little public comments and start wondering what he says in private to them. You scroll up instead, glancing at his abs again before your eyes land directly on what you were trying so hard to avoid. 

He’s kind of packing, you can’t lie. If he wasn’t Jake, you’d probably be ogling, rubbing out to him just like everyone else. Hah. You chuckle, shaking your head at your own stupidity, ready for these weird feelings to be eradicated the second you click into his stream. 

Except…jesus fucking christ.

The comments roll in faster than you can read. The money is pouring in, and he’s sitting there on camera with that same dopey grin he gives you every morning. There’s something else with his smile though, a little lip bite, some tongue darting action to wet his lips. Hair falling into his eyes…jesus. 

After a minute or two of staring at your best friend’s face, ignoring the movement of his shoulders attached to the hand that’s…doing something, a pop up covers his image entirely.

SIGN UP OR LOG IN TO CONTINUE WATCHING…

Never in your life have you signed up for something so fast, typing in a string of cute letters and numbers to differentiate yourself in the sea of horny viewers. And then his image is back, and your eyes trail straight down. 

Instantly you choke up, watching the way he uses his hands with that expression on his face. It really is just typical jerking off but…something about it. Something about the way he flicks his own nipples with a seething lip bite, bucking his hips up before shining his pouting eyes into the camera, as if wishing any or all viewers were there to do it for him. And god, the way he looks kind of wet? Like, oiled up or lotion, maybe lubed up, you don’t know. His hips slide that thing through his fist so easily, making squelching sounds all the while. 

That’s…that’s really him. And he’s not even ten feet from your bedroom door looking like this. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to get up and interrupt him.

What would you even do? What would you say? 

So, you just watch, completely forgetting that you were doing this to get rid of the curiosity, not feed into the sexuality of a man you’ve known for so long as nothing more than your closest friend. 

Over a thousand dollars made in just one stream by the time he logs off, and those moans echo in your brain. Hearing them so clearly through your headphones just…wow. And, well, you did your best. 

You swore you’d never get off to the image of Jake after all this curiosity started, it’s just, you can’t help it now. At least he wasn't on your screen, moaning and whimpering for all the faceless people watching. You waited. Your belly burned and your clit throbbed through all of it, and only when he made a mess of himself with that same fucking smile before logging off did you finally give yourself what you needed. 

You don’t know why you did that, and you don’t know why the muffled stream of his shower just down the hallways is what sticks in your head when you finally reach your own orgasm.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Over a thousand this time.” 

“Oh?” You awkwardly avoid his eye contact, stiffening your shoulders at the mere mention of his stream from last night. 

“Yeah, not sure why they gave me so much this time though…” He trails off briefly, inspecting your posture and sudden defensive stance. “I didn’t even do any of the kinks.”

Well…you know why he made that much. He wouldn’t even need to feed the fetish crowd to make a decent living off of this, not with a face like that, a cock like that. It’s only natural he starts making more and more with each lengthy stream.

“Yeah, that’s weird.” You answer shortly, rummaging through cabinets despite your lunch sitting on the table across from him. 

“Yeah…” He notes the shift, feeling tension in the air. “Are you okay?”

“What? Me?” You ground both feet on the floor now, abandoning the cabinet as you turn towards him and look to the floor. 

You can’t do it. You can’t look at him. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what gives you that idea?” 

You hear him stand from the table, taking his usual Jake-esque strides toward you. Then, he leans forward and tilts his head, chasing your eyes with his own and forcing you to look at him. 

“Well, you haven’t even looked at me all morning,” He smiles, tapping your chin. “Was I too loud or something? Did it make you feel awkward?”

Oh, an out! An excuse!

“No, no, I just –” 

Now, why the fuck did you say no? Why are you looking at him now, stopping mid-sentence entirely stunned because, yep, that’s him alright. You saw him cum. You watched him do it, you listened, and you fucking liked it.

And now you’re looking him in the face, and he’s giving you that same smile, and you’re…oh god.

“I–” 

He tilts his head again, blinking twice before narrowing his eyes. 

“Spit it out. What happened? Jay do something?” 

Your words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot, stomach doing flips…Your eyes glance down without intention, right to his groin and he sees it. He even pulls back a bit, looking surprised before softening his expression. 

“Don’t tell me you–” His voice is softer now too, but he calls out your name. “Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell he doesn’t want to make the assumption, and arguably, you’re bad at hiding things from him. 

“I kind of, like, accidentally saw your stream last night.” You say it so fast, avoiding eye contact again by embarrassingly staring right between his legs. “It feels weird now.”

He laughs. He fucking laughs, but it’s kind of like, a smug laugh? A chuckle? 

“Oh now it’s weird?” He rolls his eyes. “Relax, it’s not weird.” 

“It is though! You’re, well, you! I didn’t need to see that!” 

“Then why’d you watch?” He smirks, reaching a hand out to tilt your chin up at him again. And he’s done this many times in the past. Platonic, lovely little touches from someone who will protect and appreciate you. This though, this is…

“Go on. Tell me. Why is it weird now?” He encourages you to admit it. “Because you liked it?”

You remain silent, unwilling to answer. 

“I grossed you out?” 

“No!” An immediate disagreement there, one that only digs your hole deeper. “I just–didn’t expect that.”

“So you did watch it.” He leans back now, crossing his arms and staring you down. “Did you enjoy yourself?

What is he fucking asking right now? The worst part about this is if you don’t answer, it’s still a fucking answer. But you don’t want to like, lie, because already you couldn’t even make it through a fucking morning with him after seeing it. So, with the smallest voice you have, so small you hope he can’t hear it, you whisper. 

“Yes.”

And if you were to look him in the face right now, you’d have seen that smug look go to curiosity. You’d have seen the split second of his adoration for you merging with a new view, a new feeling, and possibly a new need.

“Wait, did you–?” He even feels a bit shy now, his ears practically on fire as he keeps his eye on you, and the way you curl in on yourself with the admittance. “Did you..touch yourself?”

A small nod, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

Then you hear him hold his breath, taking a step back from you. You’ve touched yourself to him, he can’t believe it. After all these years, never once looking at him like that…not even he looked at you like that but now?

He pictures it. The way you must’ve been in your room all alone, knowing what he’s doing, searching him up, then confirming it for yourself. You liked it. You liked what you saw and you got off to it. 

And now he can’t stop smiling. Proud, he feels proud. 

“Well, don’t feel weird.” He finally says, trying to ease your discomfort. “It’s just…a normal thing. I don’t think you’re weird.”

With that, the conversation dies, fades entirely into awkwardness as you both split off. 

You need space to think.

He needs space to think.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re doing it again, as if just this morning you didn’t have to bury yourself 6 feet under right in front of him. 

Neither of you spoke after that. Avoiding each other consistently throughout the day with knowing, growing, and exhausting tension. Yet still, he’s started his stream, and here you are, watching it with a dazed look. 

You don’t know how to feel or what to do. Your head doesn’t anyway, your body knows too well what it wants and needs, and you hate yourself for making it so awkward between the two of you. Why did you tell him? You wonder if he’d be uncomfortable knowing you’re watching again, this time knowing your hand will stray as you watch.

You wonder, and wonder, will he think you’re disrespecting your friendship by doing this not once, but twice? 

Then, you hear him. 

“Can we do some roleplay today?” He speaks out to the chat, cock pressing against his briefs, head tilted with his messy hair in the very computer chair you bought for him. 

Last time, he was sprawled out on his bed, and you wonder if he always starts his streams this way.

“I want you to imagine we live together, and you know I’m in my room fucking myself, begging, needy for anything, anyone to touch me.” He looks into the camera. “Let’s say you’d hear it too. I’m loud on purpose…”

“Tell me what you’d do to me.”

You stare forward blankly, frozen on the spot at his words, then your eyes flick to the chat. 

“You wouldn’t see the front door ever again.” 

“I’d be on you within seconds.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to turn your camera on, just come home and I'd be waiting.”

Oh. 

Jake hums at the responses, whispering them to himself. 

“Ah,” Jake reads a specific comment with a nod. “I’d be an idiot to not jump at the opportunity.”

And the rest of his words become muffled as your ears pop. Is he…talking about you right now? Was he expecting you to watch again? 

“If that ever happens to me, just know I’d be grateful for all of you. Running to help me feel good, you’re all so good to me.” He giggles now. Fucking giggles. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Jake stares into the camera again, and you can’t help it. It feels like he’s staring at you. Straight through your fucking soul at this point. 

“I have a lot of stress to relieve.” He ends on that note, skewing his pants down and making haste. 

He’s not slow or cute with it like he was before. He’s aggressive, almost frustrated. His eyebrows furrow, his lips become red from his biting and chewing, and you watch the money flood in.

The comments blurring past, words of, “Oh fuck,”  and “This is new.” before suddenly, you hear an irritated sigh. A string of curse words pour from his lips, his hand squeezing the base of his cock so tightly, and spurts of cum shooting up his chest, only to drip down slowly. 

“What a waste.” He comments shortly at himself, heaving in a breath before he breaks out into his usual smile. “Sorry to end on such a short note, just thought I’d let you guys join me for a quickie!” 

Then he’s gone, the stream lasting about ten minutes in total. 

And apparently so is your fucking sanity because why is it that now you find yourself getting out of your bed, feeling the wet between your legs drip, and you’re heading for your bedroom door just to get to him? 

Why is he standing right outside, as if he was already waiting for you to open it?

And it’s silent now as you stare at each other. Him, with his sweatpants skewed over his waist, cum still on his chest, breath still uneven. Then you, practically vibrating to get on him. 

“You’re looking at me like you want me to eat you out.” He says, already pushing you right back through your bedroom door, letting you flop back on your bed as he instantly pulls at your shorts. “Want me to kiss you first?”

You feel your head spin the second you flop back and feel your shorts being pulled off, and before you can even comprehend his question, he’s already kissing you. Hot, heated. He sounds just as frustrated as he did just minutes ago getting off by himself. You don’t even mind the cum on his chest, nor the way he spreads your legs with his knee to get more comfortable. 

It’s happening. This is what kissing Jake feels like. This is what everyone wants from him, but it’s you that’s getting it. Has he always been like this? Good at kissing? Firm with his movements? Confident as he kisses down, down, down, giving you what he thinks you want?

You do want it. Perhaps you were looking at him like you wanted him to eat you out, and now he’s doing it. Breathing shortly right against your clit without so much as savoring his view before diving in, tongue instantly licking from your hole straight to your clit and sucking.

He hums around the taste, both hands holding your inner thighs and keeping your legs open. And he just…keeps humming, licking and sucking you so good that you can’t help but cry out and tug at that fucked up mess of hair on his head. 

Jake likes that. He likes the way you hold your breath and the way your legs shake around his ears. He likes even more the way he knew you were watching him tonight, and that you looked like you were coming straight to his room to jump him. 

So strange how quickly things can change, so strange how good his best friend must have tasted all these years, and he had never once considered it. And now, he blinks up at you, seeing the way you close your eyes and breathe through it, like you’re calming yourself down, thinking both too much and not at all. 

Easily he runs his hands up and under your shirt, feeling the soft skin of your belly before gently running his palms over your perked nipples. He continues to stare up, watching you, tasting you, loving this a little more than he ever knew he would. 

He did want you, he does want you. His cock has been aching all day for you since the moment he found out you thought of him. Jake thinks you’d be tight, because lord knows you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute, and that quick jerk off session was absolutely for you. 

He wants to show off to you, wants you to see him more than anyone else can. Yet, it’s you he’s seeing more of right now and he doesn’t mind that so much. 

His eyes flick back down, allowing his fingertips to toy gently with your nipples as he skews his head, essentially making out with your pussy, slurping the slick you offer and not letting a single bit of it go to waste. Then, he dips in, pointing his tongue right against your pulsing hole and pressing in. 

There’s that tug of his hair again, your legs squeezing around him and your hips bucking up. 

Oh, you like that. 

So, he does it harder and with more focus. He squeezes his eyes shut and prepares to not breathe for a bit, licking as far into you as he can, his nose easily pressing your clit in such a beautiful way that all you can do now is moan.

Genuinely moan for him. His name in a little hiccup followed by a curse. 

Fuck, you’re so hot to him right now. Anyone would be fucking lucky to be in your bed at all, and finally it’s him. As if he’s been waiting for years despite never needing a turn previously. 

And this continues until he can’t breathe, his fingers growing more needy against your tits, his tongue reaching deeply before pulling out and allowing him to take a deep breath that is scented entirely in you. Then, he fucking nuzzles it.

You glance down with a heaved breath, legs shaking as you watch him do it. Eyes closed gently, rubbing his nose and lips against your clit in such a gentle, loving way that it has you melting instantly. 

“Jake–” You whisper in a breath, the first word you’ve said to him since you opened your bedroom door. 

All he does is shoot his gaze to you and continues his nuzzles, uncaring of whatever you need to say if it isn’t you asking him to fuck you right now. And arguable, you have nothing to say anyway. 

You just…needed to say his name. Needed to solidify that you just broke a boundary with him willingly, and he doesn’t care. You don’t care. 

You feel the thumping in your chest, your clit throbbing with each little rub he lends before you sit up slightly on your elbows, balancing yourself before reaching a hand down. 

He leans into your palm on his cheek, like a puppy wanting love. Then his hands leave your chest and find their way to your hips. His doe eyes instantly sharpen, and you’re instantly being pushed back down to your bed.

“Want me to be whatever you want? Let you do whatever you want to me?” He finally says, licking his lips as he makes his way up to hover over you, making sure to lift your shirt enough to expose both of your tits. “Just like I ask?” 

You find yourself nodding before taking it back, shaking your head. 

“I don’t want it to be like that–” You trail off, avoiding his intense gaze and suddenly feeling very vulnerable under him. “I just want you. The Jake I’ve always had.” 

Another shocked look reaches his expression. He’s a bit surprised, assuming that all of this was simply because you watched his stream and didn’t expect to be so turned on. He thought this would be a one and done thing. A “let’s forget this ever happened,” thing.

But you want him? Not the acting? Not the kinks, or the cocky grinning? You want the best friend in him, the part of him that was never sexual, never confident, never willing to approach women. 

He looks at you in question. 

“I don’t know how to be that right now.” He finally says, pressing his hips down and against you with a choked moan. “How can I be that when I want to fuck you so badly?”

You find yourself smiling, running your hands through his hair to get it out of his face before shrugging. 

“When have we ever known what we were doing?” You ask quietly, wincing slightly at how hard he’s gotten, knowing that you’re not having to see him through a screen now. 

That’s all he needed to hear before keeping eye contact and reaching down with one hand. You can’t bare to look down, knowing some sort of embarrassing sound will leave your throat. You decide to feel it instead. 

And goddamn, do you fucking feel it. 

He slides in easily, but the size of him stretches you far past anything you could have imagined. This is him, he’s this big. This is what Jake’s cock feels like and it has your chest caving in over it. 

All you can do is hug him, clinging to him through the stretch and hoping the way your cunt squeezes around him isn’t hurting him. 

“God, fuck.” He says in a quick whisper, arms shaking to hold himself up as you hug him. “You’re so tight, fuck.”

You smile against his messy chest at the compliment, basking in it really before allowing yourself to freely adjust. Your body clenches him tightly, and he remains still through it until he can’t anymore. 

He drops to the bed, flush against you without warning and the moans start pouring from his chest. He can’t stop even if he wanted to, can’t control his hips, his words, his thoughts.

He just lays here flush against you, letting his hips move freely and rapidly. In, out, in, out. So clumsy, so loud, and goddamn does it feel fucking amazing.

You moan alongside him, petting his hair with each thrust, feeling his cheek against your tits move with each drop of his jaw. Even when his moans are silent, you know he feels good and that makes you happy. 

None of those little bitches in his chat could get him like this, surely. He’s not acting right now. He’s Jake.

And that’s what makes it so good, you think. That’s why he has so much cum to put in you, apologizing through it all because the fear of this act comes with the orgasm. Apologizing for fucking you, for cumming in you, for getting off so quickly, promising you that he’ll make you cum too. 

It’s then that you realize, when he’s got his face back down between your legs, sucking his mess out of you…maybe you have feelings now.

And maybe that’s not such a bad thing either. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

remember that you can get early access and/or tip me via patreon! love and comments would be appreciated <3<3<3<3

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m a person who is infinitely curious about other cultures. Always have been. Hopefully always will be. I like making friends from other places, learning about their politics, their history, junk food, traffic safety laws, literally anything. God willing, one day I will have the means to visit many of these places myself.

I won’t claim that this casual studying of other cultures makes me fully understand these other cultures. It’s difficult to fully comprehend the nuances of Sunday dinner from halfway across the world on a computer screen.

However, I think what I’ve observed from all this is that so many things you see as unquestionable truth are social constructs. And so many people see their social constructs as inherently better.

Like what is the way you cool off your coffee or other hot beverage? I learned once that it’s perfectly normal in some places to pour your drink in between two different mugs to cool it off. Which makes total sense. I started doing that occasionally when I learned that.

In a lot of cultures though you just don’t do that. That’s not how you cool off your coffee. You cool off coffee by blowing on it or waiting or putting milk in it or whatever it is and people will be absolutely disgusted and appalled at you for pouring your drink between two mugs.

Which is really silly, right? There’s a lot of potential different ways to cool off a hot drink but so many people from all over the world learn that some people do it a different way than they do and their first reaction is disgust.

That is so fascinating to me. I don’t know if it’s related to humans’ inherent xenophobia or fear of change or the unknown or what but it’s crazy the things that people see as unshakable truth and the hills that they will die on. People from all over the world react like this to such tiny things.

Manners are another thing people get weird about. Manners are generally arbitrary and have no true objective reason a lot of the time but they’re important because they keep us being civil to each other even in our worst days. Manners are also something that isn’t generally universal and people get so offended when other countries’ manners are different from theirs.

Like in much of the US smiling at strangers you make eye contact with is polite because it indicates you don’t have any ill will towards them. Just accidental eye contact bro have a nice day neighbor.

Other countries get so creeped out about this and swear that Americans are so fake. No way they’re that happy all the time. And no, we’re not. It’s just how our manners work.

Conversely, Americans will go to another country like France or whatever and be like oh nobody smiled at me nobody gave me directions nobody wanted to be friends with me and it’s like yeah French people don’t make friends very fast and they have their own standards of greeting and social customs you weren’t following.

Neither the American or the French approach to politeness is objectively better or worse. They just have different arbitrary rules they’re following to keep everyone civil.

It’s just so fascinating to me that people can’t process these ideas. No, they think. The way I do things must be the correct way. It must be. When like, no. There’s literally billions of people out there not doing things the way your culture does them who are doing like. Mostly fine. It’s all made up anyways. The world isn’t going to end because someone smiled at you or ate their peanuts weird.

[snoopychris]

TA!matt discovering camgirl!reader online

warnings: masturbation, kinda sub!matt, matt's kind of an ass, cammy used in place of y/n

11:03am

“ok… professor thomas isn’t here today. you guys are stuck with me. i’m not legally… allowed to teach so just. do whatever. you can leave if you want.” matt speaks, his voice booming clearly throughout the room. the tests you had taken the week before were sitting face down in front of each seat. you’re almost scared to look at your grade. your friend, melissa, takes her seat next to you, flipping her page over instantly.

“78. how’d you do cammy?” she asks, glancing at the marks on her paper before you flip yours over. 65. “what the hell?” you whisper, looking around the room. nobody else seems to be freaking out over their scores. you make your way to matt’s temporary desk, setting your paper down. “a 65?” you mumble, glancing between matt and the paper. he sets his phone down on the desk, looking up at you. “well, yeah. your determinants were wrong and you did the wrong method. i was being generous with the grade.” 

you shake your head in disbelief, glancing over matt’s features. “i didn’t… i was so confident in… is there anything you can do for me?” you whisper, biting your lip so hard that it begins to bleed. matt shakes his head, flipping through his textbook. “do the problems on page 117. give them to me on friday and ill use some of those as proof that you know what you’re doing. daddy’s money can’t pay its way through college” you scoffed at his words. sure, you had a lot of materialistic things, always having the best backpack, the best notebook, dressed in the best clothes, but was always from your own pocket. “that’s not fair.” “oh no... you actually have to work for something for once. crazy isn’t it?” matt replies, looking back down at the papers he was grading. 

it feels like the walk of shame on your way back to your seat. when you sit down, melissa elbows your ribs, making you chuckle. “i mean shit, cammy, i’d give anything for him to talk to me like that. at least he’s hot though, right cammy?” “i’d never ever think that man was attractive. i would never. ever. do anything with him. matter of fact. hit me if i ever do.” 

11:03 pm.

matt had been going through the worst dry spell of his life. chris and nick had been making fun of him for it nonstop. he just felt desperate. in the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing was pathetic and probably frowned upon by some people. a wednesday night isn’t typically spent looking through a camgirl website hoping that one of them is cheap enough for him to afford them walking him through an orgasm. he was twenty two years old for gods sake. he shouldn’t be doing… whatever this was. the girls on his screen were all beautiful. they all had a confidence he wishes he could have. he didn’t judge the girls on the other side. he’s been desperate for money too. it’d be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered pornography. the scrolling continued for a while, only coming to a halt when he saw a free livestream.

on the other side of the city, you were growing bored. there can’t have possibly been that many other cam girls available at this time on a wednesday night. you had been live for about an hour, talking to nobody other than yourself. your face was hidden from the camera, only your lips and lower body visible. still, with no audience, you tried your best to make it seem like you were doing anything. a bullet vibrator sat near your clit, attached to your fingers by a holster. it was off, and you weren’t doing anything other than moving it in circles. maybe this whole free thing hadn’t been the best ideas. your face brightens slightly when a user finally joins. mateo81. “hello mateo… y’got yourself a private show tonight. everybody’s too busy for me.” you pout, your voice covered by a voice changer. they were common on this app. 

matt thinks it’s almost too corny. then again… you look good. just his type. and free. he would’ve paid if he had too. was it too good to be true? he should find out right? matt puts the website on full screen, typing a message out in the chat. completely free? NSA?

“completely free mateo… no strings attached.” you smile, tapping your bullet vibrator on the camera. “unless you wanna tip. i do a free stream every once in a while… you got lucky today and got it allllll for yourself. you’re gonna be such a good boy for me aren’t you?” you whisper, your voice like silk. usually matt’s not into this stuff. he’s not submissive. there’s something about you that’s making him do it all. he types another message, swallowing roughly. he doesn’t even remember getting as hard as he is right now. please. so hard rn. he pushes his boxers down, staring intently at the screen. every word you say is like a potion, drawing him further under your spell. he hopes there’s no antidote. 

you chuckle as you turn your vibrator on, holding it on your clothed clit. you bite your lip, holding back a small moan as you await another message. how much for you to take it off? you giggle once more, shrugging your shoulders as you press your tits together with one hand. “just gotta ask nicely baby…” you smile, slipping the small panties—if you could even call them that— off of your figure. 

matt watches with full attention as you do so, fisting his cock faster and faster. he wasn’t trying to cum so fast, but he had gone so long without any form of release that he felt like he had to. besides, it’s not like you’d see him. the precum that was coating his tip is rubbed away gently when matt rubs a thumb over his slit, biting the hem of his t-shirt as he reaches his first orgasm of the night. he doesn’t send a message regarding his cum coated hand, but opts to send one anyway. tits look nice. he hopes he doesn’t sound too pathetic or weird. 

your top is quickly discarded, gently jiggling your breasts on the camera for the person watching over the screen. matt groans at the sight, his sticky hand beginning to move up and down again. you continue to rub the vibrating toy on your clit, letting out small whines and whimpers. you always made it a point to not fake moan like other cam girls. you’d rather be authentic than seem fake and money hungry like some girls on the app were. 

“you’re doing such a good job… wish i could touch you right now. bet you’re dripping aren’t you? you dripping out of your dick over the fact that i’m fuckin myself with this toy for you?” matt could hardly type at this point with how covered in cum his hands were. he didn’t even remember having a second orgasm. or a third. but he knows that he did.  your words were making him feel something so different than anything he’s ever felt before.

with shaky hands, he types a yes, sending it to your screen—wherever you are. you chuckle at the message , pouting your lips for your sole viewer. “such a good boy mateo. so so good… fuck i’m gonna cum… gonna cum for you okay? do it with me yeah? unless you’ve already done it… won’t judge you…” he nods even though you can’t see him, meeting his climax once more. you whine loudly as you release, your body squirming as the feeling takes over. “f-fuck.” you whisper, pressing a small lip gloss kiss to the camera. matt chuckles at the sight, using his discarded shorts to clean himself off. 

his computers pointer moves to the follow button, clicking it as he begins typing a message in the chat. this was fun. do it again sometime? i’ll actually pay haha. he sighs of relief when you nod on camera, giggling quietly. “i can’t wait. i gotta go now. have to pee and all. i’ll see you next time okay, mateo?” you smile, turning your live stream off. matt feels a pang of sadness when he audibly says goodbye and gets no reply.

he glances at his clock, noticing that the minutes are just ticking by. there’s still a pile of math tests on his desk waiting to be graded. he throws his head back and groans, standing up to wash his hands before sitting back down at his work area. the first test he grades is almost a perfect score. 98%. he always tries to avoid names when grading test to avoid any unintentional bias. he chuckles to himself when he reads the name after he’s done grading it. cammy.

you whine as you shut your laptop, walking into the kitchen. you’re still in minimal clothes after putting your top back, but it’s decent enough to be seen by your roommate. he walks into the room, clapping slowly at your performance on the other side of the wall. “you did great, cammy. truly. always put on a show! you get this months rent yet?” he asks, handing you a cloth towel for you to wipe off any sweat with. you chuckle at his words, downing the water bottle in your hand. “free show tonight tucker. y’shoulda seen em! all… one of them! the art of camming is dying and i am going to bring it back. mark my words.” tucker chuckles at your words, grabbing his own water from the fridge. he pops it open, taking a long swig before ruffling your hair. “no judgement here. i support your whore career so long as you support my music career.” you can’t help but smile at his words, knowing he’s being genuine. he supports you in everything that you do. he always has. “yeah whatever. you’re such a good role model.” tucker rolls his eyes as he opens the fridge once more, grabbing some precooked pasta to heat up. 

“did you ever get that math test back? i got an 85. i think that matt guy really likes me or something cause i did so much shit wrong and yet here i am” you shake your head at his question, putting on a tshirt that was thrown over the couch. “no he doesn’t like me much. in fact im probably the last person on his mind 24/7 and when i am on his mind its probably all about how he dislikes me and how bad of a linear algebra student i am.” you shrug, taking a bite of your roommates pasta. “im sure that’s not true.” “oh no. it’s definitely true. there is absolutely no way that I am on his mind right now.” matt got through the stack of papers faster than he had expected. he used your nearly perfect example as an answer key of sorts. he began getting ready for bed, properly this time, knowing that he had an early start to his day with a few morning classes, followed by his nightly internship. he needed to find more time for himself. as he nestles into bed, jellycats at his side, he stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes. his mind keeps drifting back to the camgirl from earlier. cherry. he hopes she’s okay right now. that she’s had a good meal and that she was safe, wherever she was. it was all that was on his mind. the only person on matt’s mind was you. and it had absolutely nothing to do with your mathematical abilities. in fact— he wasn’t even thinking about your test grades anymore. you were absolutely on matt's mind right now, even if neither of you knew it.

tags(reply/message to be added!): @mattsstarlet @oopsiedaisydeer @marrykisskilled @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @cykss @throatgoat4u @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @jetaimevous @muwapsturniolo @sturnsrecord @13hoax @whore4mattsturniolo @sophsturns @chrissweetheart @cl1tlover3000 @applecidersturniolo @babytrapsosa @backwardshatnick

dividers by rose @bernardsbendystraws !

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty-six: possessive

ᰔ pairing: joel miller x reader

ᰔ summary: you and joel spend a friday night at the bar, which ends up with bloody hands and a hospital visit.

ᰔ author's note: a change of plot in the ninth hour thanks to that one picture. it's past 10pm and i'm writing like a madman. send help please god. inspired by this picture ✋😮‍💨

ᰔ content warning: no outbreak but canon typical violence, irritable joel, bar setting, alcohol consumption, creepy bar patrons, reader gets hit on, blood, hospitals, doctors, strong language

"Are you sure you want to go in? We can head back home and watch a movie," you offered. "Let's go out another night."

Joel shook his head, his hand extended out to cut the engine of the truck. He wanted to give in to your offer— turn right around and drive straight back home. Dread had filled him the minute he sat in the truck.

At the beginning of the week, you had asked to go out to the bar on Friday. Some of your friends were supposed to be getting together for drinks and pool. You agreed, and they urged you to bring the guy you had been seeing. When you brought it up to Joel, he surprised you with a nod and a 'sure, it'd be nice to get out'.

"We'll have a good time. Figure it'll be good to let your friends see I'm not just some cranky bastard," Joel huffed out a laugh. He had an amused smile on his lips as he climbed out of the car.

"Oh, I don't think you'll be less cranky," you chuckled. "That's okay. They know I like them bitchy." You put a hand on his chest and kissed him once he was close enough. Joel rolled his eyes; you swore they'd fall out of his skull with how often he did it.

"Bitchy? That's a new one." Joel opened the door for you as the two of you approached. You glanced over your shoulder.

"No it ain't. No one's bold enough to say it to your face," you chuckled.

Like most dive bars, the place was packed for a Friday night. The crowd ranged from long time regulars that regaled with each other to college kids that were too proud of their fake ids that no one really cared about.

You scanned the crowd to find your friends, who were tucked in the back. They were all gathered around a pool table and on what seemed to be the second round of drinks. You slipped your hand into Joel's and led him through the crowd. Before you got too far, he planted his feet. You turned, a look of confusion written on your face.

"I'll get us some drinks," Joel offered. You nodded and thanked him with a kiss. His hand slipped out of yours— he already knew your drink of choice. The two of you hadn't been together more than a few months, but he paid enough attention.

You joined your friends and gave the round of hugs and greetings.

"No 'Joel' tonight?" One of your friends teased as they elbowed your side. You shook your head and crossed your arms.

"Nope, but I did pick up that hot guy at the bar on the way in," you teased back. Every set of eyes turned to the bar to analyze the man in the flannel, his back turned to you.

"Bitch, that's fucking Joel. You posted a story with him in that same shirt a week ago," another friend chided. You cackled as she punched your arm. Your other friends waved you off or flipped the bird.

None of your friends had met Joel yet, but they had seen and heard more than enough about him. They knew he wasn't very social so as soon as you said he would come along, there was a buzz of excitement.

"He offered to grab us some drinks. What was I gonna do, say no?" You watched as two of your friends argued over the rules of pool. They fought like this every time, so you tuned them out.

Joel returned with two drinks in hand, a beer and one of your old faithfuls. He slipped a hand onto the small of your back. Your shirt shifted and you felt the press of his fingertips against your skin. A small shiver came over you.

"Guys, this is Joel. Joel, these are my friends." You went through the group and introduced everyone by name. Joel, ever the southern gentleman, shook everyone's hand and gave a polite hello.

You stuck close to Joel as the two of you settled into the group. He fit in easily as he jested with your friends. He even offered to play a round of pool with one of the guys— totally unprompted!

As you watched him and chatted with a friend, you noticed how quickly your drink had disappeared. With a small pout, you held your glass up.

"I'm going to get another drink! Be right back," you yelled over the loud background noise. He gave a nod, and you slipped him to head for the bar.

Since you had arrived, the bar had only grown more rowdy. It seemed the football team from the local college had finished their practice and wanted to party. You couldn't blame them, considering the drinks were cheap and it wasn't a far drive from the stadium. Still, you had to practically elbow your way to the bar.

As you waited for the bartender to finish with their current task, you felt a presence beside you. That, and you could practically smell them from where you stood. God, college boys smelled just as bad axe-laden middle schoolers.

"You all by yourself?" You almost didn't believe the boy was talking to you. If not for him pressing closer to you, you would have ignored him all together.

"No," you replied. "I'm here to grab a drink for myself and my boyfriend." You tried to move away, only to end up squished between an older woman and the man with no clear sense of personal space.

"I don't see him," he chided with a smirk. "Isn't that what they all say? I've got a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a partner— yet no one by their side."

You whirled around with a raised eyebrow.

"You do know that I don't have to stand near him all night, correct? Just because we're not next to each other doesn't mean I don't have a boyfriend," you returned. The boy rolled his eyes and leaned on the bar.

"Baby—"

Your skin crawled at the name. Nothing angered you more than some shitty pet name from some random guy who didn't know you. The only person who deserved to call you baby was across the bar and in the middle of a pool game.

"I'm not your baby. Don't call me that," you snapped. "Can I just get my drink in peace? I'm not going to be polite next time." You turned your shoulder, your back to him as you waved down the bartender. She was on her way to you when a hand landed on your waist. It made your skin crawl as you launched yourself away from the bar.

"What, baby? You a fuckin' prude or something? Savin' yourself for your little imaginary boyfriend?" The tone in his voice had you seeing red. Your fists balled up and your expression twisted into one of rage.

"Is this how you pick people up at the bar? How's being an idiot working out for you?" You had to take a deep breath before you went in swinging. It had not been the first time you had been in a bar fight, and it seemed old habits died hard.

"Worked every time before. C'mere, baby, I'll buy you—"

You watched the scene play out in slow motion. One minute, the idiot's hand stretched out to grab for your hand. In a blink, a big, calloused hand grab his wrist and yanked him away from the bar.

Joel looked enraged. You had seen him angry plenty of times, but this was different. His lips were downturned, but the look in his eyes scared you. Not for yourself— god, even the idea seemed ridiculous to you— but for the dumbass.

"Choose your next words carefully. Say baby one more time, pretty boy." Joel's tone sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost like he was begging the boy to do something dumb.

"Get the fuck off of me, old man. Like you have a better chance with the bitch."

Oh.

Yeah, this boy was gonna die. Time stood still as you watched the football player try to deck Joel with his only free hand. In one swift move, he yanked the boy's arm forward and threw him onto the ground. He managed to land a punch that sent a crack so loud that the bar fell into a hush.

The boy yelped and tried to swing back, but Joel was quicker. He had at least fifty pounds and half a foot on him. That, and a load of unbridled rage. He didn't take kindly to harassment, but to insult you in the process? Call you a bitch?

You stood, your mouth open in pure shock. Truth be told, you were glued to your spot. Two men managed to pull Joel off, while a few other bystanders tried to stop the boy's scrawny friends from getting the same ass-whooping.

Finally, as if your brain seemed to come back to Earth, you blinked and lurched towards Joel. You blatantly stepped over the boy to get to your boyfriend. His hands were bloody and his expression was soured.

"Hey, hey— Joel, baby, take a deep breath," you muttered. The two men who held him back lead him towards the exit, and you followed. One of the guys opened the door, and you took his spot as you guided him outside. You thanked the men as you managed to unlock the truck bed. Joel sat with a heavy sigh and murmured a thanks under his breath.

"Can I see your hands?" Your voice was soft. The air was cool and loud with the sound of the frogs all around. Joel was silent as he let you hold his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath when you fiddled with a few fingers.

"This looks broken," you frowned. "We need to get you to the hospital." You didn't care that Joel's hand was full of blood, or that his hackles were still raised. If you weren't so concerned, you'd be in shock still.

"It can wait until tomorrow," Joel gruffed. He never meant for it to happen, him beating the living daylights out of the idiot, but he'd be damned if he'd let someone talk about you like that. If anything, the kid's lucky enough walking away alive and talking.

"Please," you asked. "What if it's something serious?" If something bad happened to Joel, especially after he got hurt defending you, you'd be beside yourself.

By some miracle, or maybe the worry written all over your face, Joel conceded with a nod. He got off the edge of the truck bed and began for the driver's seat.

"Oh, absolutely not. I'm driving. Go." You weren't going to take no for an answer. Joel gave you the keys before he climbed into the passenger seat.

The ride to the hospital was short and silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, but you weren't sure what to say. How did you thank your boyfriend for beating some guy's ass? It was more than some verbal acknowledgment— did you buy him dinner? Suck his dick? All of the above?

You helped with the check-in process once at the hospital. As the two of you waited to be called to the back, you laid your head on Joel's shoulder.

"Thank you for defending me. I don't know what that guy's problem was." You felt Joel's jaw rest against your head. He reached over to hold your arm with his uninjured hand.

"Dumbass was too big for his britches. I only caught the tail end, but I figured it out real quick when I saw your face. If I hadn't'a swung first, it woulda been you." Joel knew that, no questions asked. If someone was going to get charges pressed, he'd rather it be himself than you.

"Shit, you're right. Though my uppercut wouldn't have done much, at least compared to your hit. I mean goddamn," you chucked under your breath. "You damn near knocked him into next Tuesday."

"Still wouldn't have been enough if I had. Who calls someone a bitch like that? Fuckin' vile, that piece'a shit," Joel grumbled under his breath.

Once he was called to the back, they made quick work on setting his hand in place. Joel bit back a groan as they popped his fingers into the right place and put a brace on his hand. He was sent off with a prescription for painkillers and an order for no heavy lifting. That hurt him more than anything else.

"Shoulda just put me down instead," Joel grumbled as he followed you out of the emergency room. You held good arm as you guided him to the truck.

"It won't be that bad. Maybe you'll actually get some rest," you lightly teased. Joel attempted to chuckle, but it just came out as an amused huff. He didn't even try to go for the driver's side. Not like he'd be able to drive for another week, at least.

"Don't go for miracles," Joel warned. You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face.

"Eh, I'll take my chances."

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Joel actually did rest. You thanked him with words, dinner, and a few orgasms to show how truly thankful you really were. No one had stuck up for you like that, and to have someone defend you like that...

Joel deserved more than you could ever give, but you'd try your damnedest for him.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter XI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.885 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Unsurprisingly, I can't keep things sweet for too long, so here's a weird chapter again. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

Kareem’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he sees you stepping in. – Holy shit! You’re alive!

– It seems so. – You chuckle, watching him almost run towards you like he’s watching a statue come to life before his eyes. 

– And you’re still employed?

– Mr. Cameron told me to come back, so I guess.

He laughs, a genuine blast of overjoyed disbelief. – I can’t believe it. – He takes your bag, setting it in the little locker where the kitchen staff is allowed to keep their things. – I was so sure that after that fight, they’d just kick you on the street, I was already mourning! Damn Routledge. 

– It was that lamb. – You laugh, folding your sleeves and washing your hands. – It must have really been good. 

– You bet your ass it was. – He’s already moving through the kitchen as you dry your hands, almost avoiding your gaze. – God, for your brother to punch Rafe right during family dinner and still somehow keep your job is crazy. – He hums, so casually, as if he was in the room when it happened. You raise an eyebrow.  – Told you you were gonna be good luck.

He winks, still smiling, but you can’t help the little doubt that swirls in your mind. – Kareem?

– Yup?

– Where were you when it happened? I came to get Rafe some ice, and you were gone.

Kareem doesn’t turn around to look at you as he hums, but you can see the blush creeping up his ears as he stands there. – I uhm, I— He clears his throat. – I went home early.

– Your things were still here, though. – He stays quiet. – Kareem. Were you hiding?

It comes off in a chuckle, soft and airy, as you step closer to him. And he stands there, his back still facing you, his hands moving thoughtlessly, wringing his fingers, pretending to be busy. – Kareem?

– Okay, I was hiding, I didn’t want to lose my job too, okay? I’m sorry. – The genuine shame in his voice brings a laugh to your lips, and he looks at you, almost bashfully, as you bring a hand to rest between his shoulder blades. – Aren’t you mad at me for being a coward?

You laugh even more at that.

The thought of a 6’5’’ overly tattooed Pakistani man with a beard and a man bun cowering in some pantry while you put ice on Rafe Cameron’s face is so delightfully ridiculous you can’t even help your amusement. – Of course I’m not mad at you. This is your job, I don’t blame you for not wanting to get fired. And these people really are crazy.

– Right? – He exhales, wide-eyed like a child on christmas morning. – You saw how Rafe talked to me, right? This kid hates me! I don’t even know why.

– Hate to break it to you, Kay, but he probably doesn’t have a reason. Rich kids don’t need reasons to be menaces. – You pause, looking up at him with a conspiratorial smile. – I’m sure you know that, though. Mr. Highland Park.

He looks away, expression taught as the blush on his face reddens even further. – You googled it. 

– Oh, I did. Richest suburb in the whole of Texas? That’s another level of blue blood.

He winces. – It’s not that bad.

– Oh, I’m sure it’s not bad at all. – You laugh, a twinge of guilt blooming in your chest as you realize just how much you’re enjoying this mockery. – You should see the dump I was born in. That's bad.

Kareem clears his throat, still a little pink around the ears, and turns back to the workstation like he can physically will the conversation away. – Look, can we— Let’s- Let’s talk about something else. Mr. Cameron’s breakfast.

You sigh, already rolling up your sleeves, but still laughing. – Of course. Can’t keep the king waiting.

Kareem narrows his eyes pointing at you with a cautious expression. – You’re laughing now, but you have no idea how specific this man is. –  He mutters, completely serious. 

– Of course, why wouldn’t someone micro-manage their breakfast, of all things?

– Focus! – He warns, ignoring your laughter. – One egg benedict.

Your eyes widen, all amusement going down the drain. – Jesus fucking Christ.

– I told you. Hollandaise. Bacon—crispy but not burnt, and just on one side, the fat can’t be too shriveled up either. Toast. Golden brown, but not too crunchy. He hates crumbs. – He rolls his eyes, already stressed. – And don’t even get me started on the—

The kitchen doors swing open before he can finish, and a sharp pair of heels clicks against the tile. Kareem’s face drops, rolling his eyes a second time, and he leans over the counter, almost hiding behind you as you stand there in awe. You barely have time to register the pinched look on the woman’s face before she snaps her fingers, walking around like she owns the place. – Kareem. Coffee. Now.

Kareem, who had been reaching for the eggs, stills mid-motion. His fingers flex slightly before he turns around, a forced politeness on his face that doesn’t even pretend to hide his irritation.. – Good morning to you too, Marion.

Marion.

Suddenly it’s clear— Kareem said it was a miracle that you managed to make it two hours in this kitchen before being assailed by the Wicked Witch (he did in fact call her that) and her powers of micro-management— Marion, the head housekeeper (or gate-keeper, as Kareem had also referred to her), stormed into the kitchen, 5’0” tall, and a force of nature all of her own.

You bite back a smile.

Marion doesn’t acknowledge him beyond a flick of her wrist, too preoccupied with shaking her head in exasperation. – You won’t believe the morning I’ve been having. – She doesn’t wait for an invitation before pulling out a chair and sitting, arms crossed over the marble like she’s just lifted the world with her bare hands. – Rafe refuses to get up. Again. Do you know how long his room has been a disaster? Since Wednesday. I sent the maids up, but he won’t let anyone in. The smell alone— She shudders. – I went in myself just now, and the brat nearly threw a pillow at me.

You reach for the coffee pot, taking a cup from the cabinet, but Kareem pulls it from your hand. – Don’t give her this. – He mumbles, frowning and huffing under his breath. – That’s much more than she deserves.

You chuckle, taking the acrylic cup he shoves into your hand with a smile.

Marion goes on. – Are you listening to me, boy?!

– Yes, Marion. – He groans. And then, lower, – I think the people on the other side of the island could listen. – You can’t even help the laughter as he goes on. – What I’m hearing is that you walked into his room uninvited, and you got mad when he reacted?

Marion gasps, scandalized. – Excuse me?

Kareem shrugs, playing innocent. – Just making sure I understand the situation.

Her lips press together into a thin, disapproving line. – He’s acting like a child, Kareem.

He looks over at you again. – Who’s gonna tell her?

You glance up briefly, watching as she smooths a perfectly manicured hand over her pristine blazer. It’s not lost on you that she sees herself as above everyone else here, despite technically being just another employee. It’s in the way she orders Kareem around like he’s a butler, the way she perches in that chair like she owns the kitchen.

– Mr. Cameron won’t be happy about this, – she continues, shaking her head. – Honestly, you should be grateful, you know. – She gestures vaguely at you, you’re almost surprised she’s even seeing you. – That Rafe hasn’t come after you. He always gets the pretty ones fired.

– Uhm, – Your brain almost short-circuits. Compliment? Insult? General comment? You’ll never know. – Thank… you?

Her eyes suddenly go wide, and she straightens up on the chair as you put the mug in front of her. – Are you the new chef?

– Yes. Uhm, Routledge, ma’am. 

She sighs with something like disappointment, but not quite.  For a moment she almost seems pleased, but then she starts frowning again. – Good. He was asking about you.

– Mr. Cameron? – She raises a brow, the corners of her lips downturned. – Ma’am. 

The woman relaxes the slightest bit as you refer to her by the proper title, and looks away, taking the coffee without even looking at you. – Well, of course. Rafe Cameron. He wants you to bring him a piece of pie, or some such thing.

Kareem looks at you, his brows knit together, his lips twisted into a strange grin.

 – Uhm, ok. Me? Specifically?

– Is your name Routledge?!

– Yes, ma’am.

– Obviously, then.

Your hands still, grip tightening just slightly on the handle.

Kareem chuckles, bitter and Marion sighs dramatically. – I swear, it’s like he’s punishing everyone. For what, I don’t even know. He just sulks in there all day. And do you know what’s worst of all?

You force your voice to stay steady. – No. What?

She leans forward, as if sharing some great, horrible secret. – He’s not even drinking.

That catches you off guard. You blink, lifting your gaze fully now. – What?

Marion nods gravely, like this is the biggest offense of all. – Not a sip. Not since Wednesday. Not even sneaking anything. He’s just lying there, doing absolutely nothing. It’s unnatural.

– Why would he be drinking? It’s nine AM.

Kareem and Marion both scoff at that, a sharp, short bout of genuinely mocking laughter. – You don’t come around here a lot, do you girl?

You don’t know what to make of that question. And they don’t clarify anything beyond that comment.

Kareem places a cup of coffee in your hand, that same strange smile on his face as he raises a brow, taking a sip of his own. – Tragic, huh?

Marion sighs, taking a delicate sip before clicking her tongue. – I don’t have time for this nonsense. Rose has a book club event, or some such thing she needs me to organize. – She stands, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on her blazer before giving you one last glance. – Good luck with this girl.

And with that, she’s gone, leaving only the sharp scent of her perfume behind.

The kitchen is silent for a beat.

Then Kareem lets out a long, slow breath, shaking his head. – Charming, right?

– I feel like a whirlwind just waltzed right over me.

– She has that gift. – He grumbles. 

You swallow, trying to blink whatever the hell that was away. You have work to do. – I should get started on that egg benedict.

– Oh no, no, no, my dear. You’re going up to Rafe’s and you're bringing him that pie. I don’t need him coming here and fucking up my schedule. 

– C’mon!

– Nope. Get to it.

You frown, lingering in the kitchen for a moment longer than necessary, wiping the counter and cutting the pie slowly, like you’re trying to delay your own execution. 

You stare at the plate. At the pie. That’s all this is. Just delivering a damn piece of pie. You don’t know why this feels like such a chore.

Kareem watches you, one brow raised, his grin teetering between amusement and sympathy. – I don’t wanna interrupt your lingering gaze or whatever, but you should go ahead.

– I’m just— You hesitate. – Should I even go up there?

Kareem snorts. – Didn’t you hear what I just told you? If you don’t, he’ll just come down here, and I don’t want him here.

– Thanks a lot, Kareem. Great camaraderie. What happened to “we average each other’s misery?” Isn’t that what partners are for?

– When it comes to Rafe, the misery is all yours. – He says, looking over his shoulder with a smile. – Don’t act like you’re walking to the gallows, Routledge. It’s not gonna be that bad, you know he likes you.

– Excuse me?

– Oh, come on. – He laughs. – Wasn’t he the one sitting on this counter asking you to kiss his little boo-boo better?

– You sneaky little bastard! – You gasp and narrow your eyes, bumping his shoulder as you take yet another cup from the cabinet, setting it under the espresso machine. 

– I didn’t mean to hear all of it, okay? I was having a hard enough time trying not to laugh. – Kareem only laughs, sipping from your cup, a smile still clear as day on his face. – He was pathetic. Ward was right, I don’t know how you didn’t punch him. God, I don’t think I ever heard Rafe say please. And I’ve worked here for years! 

– You’re hilarious.

– C’mon, that was a little funny.

You take the espresso and the pie, setting it on a tray. – I hope your eggs benedict break before you even take it out.

He bursts out laughing, holding the door open for you. – However will I recover from such cruelty? – You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. – If you don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m still not going to save you.

– I will literally kill you with my bare hands.

– Sure you will.

The walk to Rafe’s room is quieter than it should be. The house, for all its size and grandeur, seems eerily still. There’s no sound of maids bustling around, no chatter echoing down the halls—just the faintest murmur of waves in the distance, the occasional creak of old wood beneath your careful steps. The small tray feels heavier in your hands the closer you get.

But before you can even step foot on the second floor, a pair of cold blue eyes settle on you, squeezing slightly as that same strange smile you’ve come to know so well blooms on his face again. – Miss Routledge.

You swallow, nodding respectfully. – Good morning, Mr. Cameron.

– What are you doing? – He eyes the tray in your hands with a certain amusement, his low careful steps still creaking against the floorboards as he approaches. – Coffee?

– Yes, uhm, espresso, actually. Rafe asked me to bring the pie up for him, I thought he’d want something to drink too.

Ward laughs softly, taking the mug. – Attentive. – He grins, sipping carefully, his eyes boring into yours. – Rafe doesn’t appreciate a good cup of coffee. He only likes things sweet. 

The last words lands between you, much heavier than they should

You’re not sure what to make of that sentence. So you just nod, waiting for him to dismiss you. But he doesn’t, not just yet. – I’m surprised he’s even up this early. Rafe usually doesn’t get up until midday. He’s been changing a lot these last few days.

– Never too late for a change of habit, I guess.

– Damn right. – He sets the cup, half-drunk, on the tray again, his face unreadable. – That espresso was perfect. Kareem always makes it too strong.

– I’ll tell him that.

– No need. – He hums. – Maybe you can start bringing me my breakfast too.

– If you want to, sir. 

Ward smiles, taking a single step to the side to let you through.

You nod and smile, keeping your head down, but just as you’re a couple steps ahead, the tray balanced on your arm, hand hovering over Rafe’s door, he stops you again: – You and your brother had a talk after you got home?

You freeze for a moment, looking back to see him standing there, with that same look. You know that stance: Casual tone, detective eyes. He’s measuring you.

You breathe in deep, keeping your face still and your voice level. – Yes, sir.

– And what did you tell him?

– To stop meddling in my work life or get a job of his own.

He doesn’t allow much, but you can see his stance soften the slightest bit—You never got much approval as a kid, so you could always see it from a mile away— Ward nods, that same way he did when he was talking to you in the kitchen yesterday. – Good girl. – You bristle at the words, but don’t let it show. He makes a move to turn around, but his eyes remain on you. – Off you go.

You stop outside the door. Knocking once.

Silence.

A flicker of hesitation surges through you. You can feel Ward's eyes on your back, the way he lingers at the end of the hall, not even pretending to do something else.

It unnerves you.

You think about leaving the tray at the door and walking away, but you know how unprofessional that is, and you can’t afford to give bad impressions. Not with these people.

You don’t wait much longer before pushing the door open, stepping into a space that feels separate from the rest of the house, like it belongs to another world entirely. The air is heavy, stale, the curtains drawn, the light filtering in muted and dull. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, to pick out the details—clothes draped over furniture, a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand, the faint scent of salt and sweat and something unmistakably Rafe lingering in the air.

He lays at the edge of the bed, almost hanging off the corner, and though he breathes in and out heavily, nothing else escapes him as the bed creaks beneath his weight.

The sound sends you back to that phone call.

The sighing, the groans, the words.

You shudder, and swallow, approaching with quiet steps. Ward’s espresso trembles lightly but doesn’t spill as you lay the tray flat on your right hand, moving the things on his bedside with your left.

He shifts slightly at the sound of your footsteps, humming low in his throat. – Baby, – He whispers, content, a lazy smile on his face. – Knew you’d come.

You smile at him, setting the tray down on his nightstand. – You asked for pie. Marion said you threw a pillow at her.

He chuckles, nodding. – Mmm. – The sound stretches, and Rafe shifts again, finally turning his head to look at you. His eyes are heavy-lidded, unfocused in a way that makes you wonder if he’s half-asleep or just playing at it. – Had a dream about you.

– Did you? Was it a nightmare?

He laughs again, shaking his head, eyes drifting shut again as his hand trails down to his stomach, the motion lingering too long, too weirdly, that same strange smile on his face. – Was nice. Real nice.

There’s something vaguely suggestive in the way he says it, but it’s faint—just enough that your brain doesn’t fully process it before he’s tugging at your wrist, pulling you closer. – Sit.

You hesitate. – Rafe—

– I don’t feel so good. – His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make it clear he isn’t letting go until you comply. You sigh, lowering yourself onto the edge of the bed. He immediately leans into you, head pressing against your side, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. His body is warm—too warm. – Think I have a fever, – He mumbles, voice dipping into something almost pitiful. – Check for me?

He pulls you close before you can protest, pouting, almost pleading. You lift a hand to his forehead. His skin is warm, clammy, but not alarmingly so. He covers your hand with his own, holding it there before you can pull away.

– It's a good thing that the witch didn't send someone else. – He mutters, eyes flicking up to meet yours. – It'd be just like her to call Rose just to piss me off. – He groans, thumb stroking the back of your hand slowly. – Like she would do anything. I could be dying on this bed and it still wouldn't matter to them.

– Don't say that.

– It's the truth. – His eyes burn into yours. – These people don't care about me, baby.

– These people are your family, Rafe. Of course they care about you.

He scoffs, and his grip loosens just enough for him to shift again, this time sliding down until his head rests against your lap. 

– Rafe, I have to—

– Just for a minute, baby. Please. – His sigh is soft, almost content, and he takes your hand, guiding it into his hair before you can react. – Touch me, – He murmurs. – Brush your fingers through my hair like you do. My head hurts so bad, baby. I barely slept tonight.

Your chest tightens.

Sometimes you wish you weren’t such a softie.

Your fingers twitch against his scalp, hesitating. This isn’t new. Rafe is always too much—too sharp, too reckless, too angry. And the way he switches around you, like this, like he’s someone else entirely, will never cease to give you whiplash. But he looks at you so pleadingly, so softly, those big blue eyes of his so pitiful you almost want to hold him, and you can’t say no.

He pulls at your hand, like you're a doll, like you exist for no other reason than to serve him. Still, you brush your fingers through his hair. Just once.

His breath hitches, that lazy smile softening into something quieter, something almost innocent. He shifts again, curling up against you, his fingers wrapping around the hem of your shirt. – Don’t stop, – He murmurs.

You roll your eyes but keep running your fingers through his hair, slow, rhythmic. – You do feel a little warm. What else are you feeling?

He hums, eyes slipping shut, the tension in his body melting away bit by bit. – My throat is scratchy. My head is pounding. My whole body feels like cement.

– You poor thing.

Rafe hums at your words, a soft, indulgent sound that makes your stomach twist. He shifts again, pressing his face further into your stomach, like he’s trying to burrow into you.

– I hate being sick, – He murmurs, voice turning smaller, almost pitiful. – Feels like I can’t do anything. Like I’m useless.

You sigh, fingers still threading through his hair, and you know—you know—this is exactly what he wants. That little flicker of sympathy, the way your touch has softened, how you haven’t pushed him away yet. He’s milking it. But damn him, he’s good at it.

– You’re not useless, – You murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. – You just need to rest.

Rafe makes another one of those pleased little sounds. His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, barely gripping, just enough that you can feel the heat of them on your skin. – Stay a little longer?

You hesitate.

He tilts his head up slightly, blue eyes peering up at you, half-lidded and pleading, a perfect picture of vulnerability. – Just for a minute, baby, – He whispers. – Feels better when you’re here.

Your lips part, a retort forming on your tongue, but then he exhales, slow and steady, and you realize he’s not just playing anymore—he’s settling into you, like he could stay here forever.

You sigh, glancing at the untouched tray on his nightstand. – I’ll stay while you eat, – You say, keeping your voice firm. – But just for that. I have to work.

Rafe doesn’t argue. He just hums, pleased, nuzzling into you once more before finally —finally— pulling back. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s dragging himself out of some dream.

His eyes land on the tray, and the lazy smile flickers into something more satisfied. – You brought me coffee?

– You asked for pie. I figured you’d want something to go with it. – He smiles, reaching for the cup. – But, Rafe your—

He’s sipping before you can warn him, his eyes peeking at you from beyond the ceramic rim of the cup just like his dad did.

Rafe hums again, sitting up properly now. His hands find your waist for just a second as he puts the cup down, like he’s steadying himself—like he needs you to steady him—before he lets go, stretching with a groan. His shirt rides up slightly, the sharp lines of his stomach peeking out before he drops his arms and reaches for the tray. – It's still hot. – He smiles. You don’t let yourself linger on the irony. – You made this one, didn't you? Kareem always makes it way too strong. And he doesn’t put any sugar.

You can’t help the chuckle. – I’ll bring you some sugar next time.

He smiles, taking the plate and leaning it on his knee. You don’t miss the way his fingers tremble slightly as he picks up the fork. The way he glances at you, like he’s waiting for you to notice.

You sigh again, softer this time. – What?

– You could feed me. – He grins, almost hopeful.

You scoff. – You’re getting real spoiled, Rafe.

He laughs, all the happier as he watches you reach for the fork, slicing off a small piece of pie and holding it out. He just watches you, something unreadable in his gaze, before leaning forward and taking a bite.

Your breath catches for a second. 

You don’t know why.

It’s nothing. Just Rafe being Rafe.

But the way he hums, like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, the way he holds your hand as he leans in, his lips barely brushing against the utensil before he pulls back—it feels like something else entirely.

– Good? – You ask, keeping your voice level.

He grins, still chewing. – So good, baby.

Of course he says it like that. You shake your head, handing him the fork. – Eat.

Rafe chuckles, but does as he’s told. 

Your eyes catch his lips as he chews. His eyes are heavy, his smile is glad, but you see the familiar watercolor of black and blue forming on his skin, reaching for him before you can stop yourself.

Rafe doesn’t even flinch as your hands ghost over the bruise on his jaw. If anything, he leans into it. 

– Does it hurt?

– It'll hurt a lot less after you kiss it. – Your face drops. You try and pull back your hand, but he holds it in place, laughing with a delight you will never understand. – I don’t know why you even bother to pretend you don’t like it. You kiss me every time I ask.

You scoff. – I never said I don’t like kissing you, Rafe. I just don't like kissing you when I’m at work. Which reminds me—

He pulls your hand a little harder now as you stand. Eyes wide and pleading. – No, no. C’mon, I'm sorry, okay? Don't go, baby, please.

– You don’t need to apologize. I'm not going because of anything you did, I just have to go because Kareem needs my help.

Rafe scoffs, pulling you tighter, and closer, until you’re close enough that he can lean his head on your waist and squeeze you in his arms. – Kareem is a bitch. – You make a noise of protest, trying to pull away, but he keeps you in place. – And that’s rich coming from you. The apology thing. For every ten words you say one of them is an apology.

– One in every ten? – You chuckle. – Pulling out the statistics now, huh? I didn’t know you were a mathematician.

Rafe laughs, the sound resounding against your skin as he presses his face closer to you. – I’m nothing if not a man of the sciences, baby.

– Whatever you say, Norman Osborn. – You thread your fingers through his hair again, soft, slow, just enough that you can feel him relax under your touch.

You shouldn’t like it.

The way he melts at whatever crumb of affection you give him.

The way he clings and pulls and holds like he can’t bear for you not to be touching him.

The way he sighs at every touch.

Because you’ve been here before. And it never ends well for you.

But still you let him hold you, stroking his hair. And when he pulls away, looking at you with those big expectant eyes, the question already on his lips, you kiss him before he can beg. You revel in the way he clings to you as you move your lips against his, gently, barely a whisper of a touch, afraid you’ll hurt him.

And for a moment, Rafe matches you.

He sighs, and his lips part, but he kisses you back just as softly, moving against you almost temptatively. His hands stay still, barely resting on your waist, letting you set the pace. He exhales a slow, content sigh through his nose, his fingers pressing into your sides just slightly, like he’s savoring the moment.

It feels nice.

Not too much, not too fast, just nice.

And maybe that’s why you don’t stop him when his hands start moving.

It’s gradual—so gradual that you barely register the shift. The way his grip tightens, how his fingers start grasping at you instead of just resting against your skin. The way his breathing picks up, shallow, uneven. Then his lips part again, and suddenly the kiss isn’t soft anymore.

Rafe’s hands settle under your ribs, pressing against you so tightly you can barely breathe. His mouth moves over yours more hungrily now, lips parting, head tilting, like he’s trying to consume you. A low, satisfied hum escapes him, his fingers dragging up your spine, tangling into your hair like he’s claiming you.

And God, the way he clings to you—it’s like he’s starving, like he’s been deprived of something.

His hand slides down, over your sides, around your hips, fingers gripping at your thigh, trying to pull you onto his lap. 

So you pull away.

Rafe makes a wounded noise, low in his throat, chasing after your lips before his eyes even open. His hands won’t let go, his fingers flexing against you, as if he’s trying to coax you back into his arms.

– Rafe, – You breathe, voice steadier than you feel. – You're gonna hurt yourself.

His eyes blink open, already searching for another way to pull you back in. His lips are red parted, breath coming out fast, and the bruise looks darker, larger, enough that your heart skips a beat. 

– Shit. – Rafe lets your hands flutter towards the discolored skin, he lets you touch him softly, staring at the way you frown with a breathless smile. – Jesus. Look at you. I'm so sorry.

– There you go again. – He chuckles, hands back at your waist, pulling you in again. – I’m fine baby, I’m not made out of glass. – He murmurs with a smile, but when you stop him, he looks up at you like you’ve just taken something vital away from him.

You look at the door, counting how much time you’ve already wasted. Rafe groans, his fingers tightening around your chin and pulling you back, like a petulant child who can’t bear not to be paid attention to. You laugh, smoothing back his hair. – I have to go.

– No you don’t. Lay down with me for a minute, c’mon.  – He murmurs, his voice wrecked, like he’s the one suffering. – Kiss me again. Just—just one more time.

You shake your head, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. He just leans in again, lips barely ghosting over yours, voice dropping into something dangerously soft.

– Please?

– I’ll come back later.

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, but then he presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, slow, lingering, his breath fanning against your skin. Another, just beneath your jaw. Then lower, nuzzling into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, lips barely brushing against the skin there.

You shudder, and he feels it. – Is this where you like it? – He murmurs, triumphant, like he finally got something he can use against you. He’s already leaning in to kiss you again when you push him away.

– You’ll have to find that out another time. – You exhale sharply, untangling his arms from around you before he can try to stop you, and taking the plate, the cup, the tray. – Try to sleep again, you’ll feel better.

– I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t abandoning me.

You laugh out loud, hiding behind your hand as you push him back down onto the pillow. – How could I be so cruel?

– This isn’t funny, okay? I’m being serious. I’m sick and you’re gonna leave me here, all alone? – He eyes you, disapproving. – What if I choke?

– You’re not gonna choke.

– You don’t know that.

– Yeah, I do. You’re not gonna choke, because, you’re gonna lay on your side— You pull at his shoulder softly, until he does as you say, watching you with that same disappointed look as you adjust his pillow. – there you go. Officially choke-proof. Get some sleep.

He’s quiet for a moment, letting you pat his shoulder and kiss his eye, letting you step away, but just as your hand hovers over the doorknob, he speaks again:

– Why were you with Barry earlier?

You don’t even know why you let yourself forget it. The way he looked at the two of you from his window, the way his eyes sharpened as you let Barry step away.

You knew he was gonna bring this up.

You knew he was gonna ambush you.

So you sigh, looking over your shoulder as your hand remains, steady, on the brass doorknob. – Can we talk about this later?

– I wanna talk about it now.

– Rafe—

– You slept at his place? – He cuts in, just the ghost of an edge on his voice. – Is that how much you hate your brother? That you would go to Barry's place just to avoid him? Even after what he did?

– I don’t hate my brother, and I didn’t sleep at Barry's place. He came to apologize, and he was too drunk to drive so he stayed over.

– He wasn’t too drunk to get over there. – He says, sharp, too sharp for someone who just a moment ago had been so drowsy. – He slept with you.

– He slept next to me. 

Rafe scoffs, looking away, smiling bitterly at the ceiling. – I bet he tried. – He mumbles. – Did he take you to that bar, the one in the Cut with all those weird irish people?

– What are you talking about?

– You know that's where he goes to pick up girls, right? He wanted to sleep with you!

– I didn't sleep with him, and we didn't go to any bars. He was drunk. We talked and fell asleep, that’s all. Why do you even care about this?

Rafe’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Just leans back on his elbows, looking at you like he’s thinking way too hard about something that should be simple.

And something in him shifts.

Slowly, he sits up again, walking towards you. His hand finds your wrist—not grabbing, just tracing his fingers over your pulse like he’s absentminded, like he’s bored.

– You really spent the whole night with him? – His voice is light, almost playful, but you can hear the edge underneath it.

You sigh. – Rafe—

– No, I just… – He tilts his head, watching you. – I guess I don’t get it.

– Get what?

His lips twitch like he’s about to grin, but he doesn’t, he looks bothered, like he has something bitter in his mouth. – How you weren’t bored out of your mind.

– What? – You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, his fingers tighten slightly around your wrist—not hard, just enough to keep you here.

– I mean, really, baby, c’mon. – He exhales, shaking his head like he feels bad for you. – Barry? – His lips curl like the name itself tastes bitter. – You know he’s not half as fun as me.

You almost laugh, shaking your head. – What are you even talking about?

– No, it’s fine, – He cuts in, like he’s just thinking out loud now. – Maybe you like being bored. Maybe that’s the problem.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

You’re actually perplexed. 

There is no path in the road of rational thought that could ever lead to the conclusion he got to. You don’t know whether he’s mocking you or if the sickness actually got to his head.

Rafe sees it, feels it, and that’s when he really grins, but there’s no joy to it. He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Then he leans in, voice dropping lower. – That’s it, isn’t it? – His fingers trail up your arm now, slow, barely touching. – You're tired of me. That's it.

– What?

His face darkens, and he looks away, laughing bitterly. 

– Rafe, that’s not—

He exhales sharply, looking away like he’s already heard enough. His fingers slip from your wrist, dragging down your arm like he’s letting you go. Letting you leave.

– Never mind, – He mutters.

The change is instant. The teasing, the smugness—it’s gone. Now he just looks… defeated.

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. – Rafe.

He shakes his head. – No, I get it, – he says, voice quieter now. – You don’t have to explain.

Your stomach twists. – Where did you even get that from—

– I just thought you liked being around me, – He cuts in, and fuck, his voice wavers just slightly, just enough to make something inside you crack. – But if you need space you could’ve just said so.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Because what are you supposed to say to that?

Rafe sighs again, rubbing his jaw. His fingers graze the bruise there, and for the first time since you walked in, he actually looks as tired as he claimed to be.

And suddenly, you feel awful.

– I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I'm not tired of you, Rafe. – You say, soft, reassuring. – You know that.

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. – Do I?

You frown, stepping closer before you can stop yourself. – Rafe.

He looks up at you then, and God, his eyes—wide, glassy, wounded.

You hate it.

You hate that he looks at you like that, like you’ve hurt him, like you’ve done something wrong.

So you sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed again, and putting the things on the nightstand just like before. – Don’t do this. – You murmur, smoothing your hand over his hair. He almost pulls away, but then he leans in, exhaling, like he can’t stop himself. – I'm not tired of you. I could never get tired of you. You're a person, Rafe. Not a toy.

Rafe doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you, his eyes widening again. Then, just as quickly as he pulled away, he shifts closer, tucking his head against your chest, arms wrapping around your waist, clinging. – Really?

His eyes are glassy, his voice cracks.

– Don’t play around, you know I’m serious. I’m not tired of you.

He burrows in closer, grasping, heaving. – God, yeah. Yeah. – He nods, rapidly, incessantly, the movement rough against your skin, like he’s breaking down. – Sometimes I forget. I’m sorry, baby. I keep forgetting.

– What? What are you talking about?

– That you’re not like them. – He sighs, and there’s so much relief, like you've lifted a weight off his shoulders. Like he can finally breathe. – That you’re good. That you’re not cruel. That you actually care about me.

– Rafe—

– You care about me. – He repeats. You no longer know whether he’s speaking to you or to himself, trying to get it through his brain. – You do, and you would never abandon me. You wouldn’t. Right?

His grip tightens around you, fingers pressing into your back like he’s afraid you’ll slip through them.

You hesitate. Because this—all of this—feels eerily familiar. But the way he’s looking at you now, wide-eyed and raw, makes it impossible to leave.

He’s backed you into a corner, and you have no choice but to open your arms.

– Of course not. – You murmur, threading your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. – I wouldn’t, Rafe. We're in this together now, okay? You can't get rid of me now.

Rafe exhales, shuddering, pressing himself closer to you. Like you just saved him. Like you just fixed something inside him. – Yeah. – He nods again, rapidly, like he’s convincing himself now. – Yeah, I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t.

His fingers flex against your back, and for a second, he just holds you there, silent.

Then, quietly—soft, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it—

– I don’t think I could take it.

Your stomach twists.

Because it’s too soon.

It's too much.

It's too fast.

But that’s normal, right? He's not used to it. To being cared for. To being looked after. To being heard. The way you met was so weird and intense and overwhelming for him. A brush against death, one that he's convinced himself you saved him from. How could he be anything other than too much? How could he feel ever “normal” about this?

You know you don’t.

You attached too fast, too deeply. You can’t even see him hurt without thinking he's dying all over again. So of course he's weird about it.

You're weird about it.

Right?

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because what do you say to that?

What do you say when he’s wrapped around you like this, when he’s breathing you in like you’re the only thing keeping him here?

You just let him hold you.

And when he sighs again, nuzzling deeper into your chest, you feel it—the way his body finally relaxes, the way his grip loosens just enough to let you breathe, the way he hums, content, satisfied.

Like he’s won.

Like he knew you’d stay all along.

You exhale, threading your fingers through his hair. – Just lay down, okay Rafe? Get some rest.

– I'm fine. – He sniffles, but he looks at you, and he looks shattered.

– Please. Lay down for me, can you do that?

He hums, already relaxing, already settling. But as you move to lay him down, adjusting him against the pillows, his arms only tighten around you. – Lay down with me.

He pleads.

Like he still thinks you might disappear.

Like he needs to hold you.

You sigh again, letting your hand run soothingly down his back. – Rafe.

– Just for a minute, baby. Then you can go. – Rafe whispers, pressing his face closer, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally speaks. – Just don’t get tired of me.

You swallow hard. – I won’t.

You lay down next to him, settling on the pillows.

His arms pull you closer.

Not gently, not like he’s worried about hurting you—desperately. Like he was just waiting for you to give in, like now that you have, he’s going to make sure you can’t take it back.

His face presses against your collarbone, breath warm against your skin. His hands—broad, steady, greedy—slide under your shirt, but it isn’t heated, like it was before, just needy. He spreads his palm flat against your back, holding you there like he needs to feel you.

Like he needs proof that you’re real.

And you exhale, letting your fingers drift through his hair again, slow, soothing.

Rafe hums, the sound low, content. Then—just barely, just enough for you to notice—this weird sound escapes him. A hum. Maybe a huff, maybe a sigh, but it sounds like a laugh.

Your fingers still for a second.

– …What?

– Nothing, baby. – He sniffs, his voice thick with exhaustion, but you feel his smile against your skin. – Just—you’re so fucking nice to me.

Rafe grins, you can feel his smile against the sliver of skin your shit allows, and his free hand comes up, to your collarbone, to your tattoo, burrowing closer. 

You don’t say anything.

And neither does he.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. His grip on you stays tight—like even in sleep, he doesn’t trust you not to leave—but you feel his body fully relax against yours, the tension melting out of him.

You should leave.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead, you just lay there, fingers still threading through his hair, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the weight of him against you.

Because if he wakes up and you’re gone, what will he do?

Because if you leave, and he spirals again, and something happens—

No.

You don’t want to think about that.

So you stay.

Just for a little longer.

Just until you’re sure he’s really asleep.

You find yourself sneaking away from him as his breath weighs heavy. Taking the things from the nightstand like you're stealing. Fixing yourself in the mirror like you've done something wrong.

When you get to the door, you can’t help but look over your shoulder, making sure you’re safe, making sure he’s still asleep, like you used to do with your dad when he drank too much.

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and you shake your head, as if to get the memory off of you, steps growing hasty as you climb down the steps, rushing to the kitchen. 

The tray knocks softly against the counter, and you take the plates out thoughtlessly, running them under the sink, washing them obsessively, the stains on the plate, on the cup, on you, too risky to leave unattended.

– Hey! – Kareem’s voice echoes from behind you. You look over your shoulder. He’s disheveled, voice breathy. Way too surprised to see you. – Took you a while.

You focus on scrubbing, the foam of the espresso lingering on the ceramic. – Yeah, uhm. Rafe’s sick.

– Jesus. He didn’t puke on you, did he?

You pause, the perfect lie having just fallen on your lap. You stare at the sponge on your hand, unable to look Kareem in the eye. – Not on me. He was really sick though. Took me a while to get him to eat after that. Took me even longer to get him to sleep.

He laughs, but the sound is rushed. He’s shifting around on his feet. – You’re too nice, Routledge. I would’ve left him there. He would’ve choked on his own sick if it were up to me.

You shudder, shaking your head.

You’re back at Barry’s, laying on the ground, Rafe wretching as you hold him steady. You keep shaking your head until the image goes away. – Why are you doing that? Just put it in the dishwasher.

– Oh. – You look beside you, a perfectly good washer merely feet away. – I always forget people have those. I’m already halfway done.

– It’s okay, just leave it there. – There’s a noise behind you, steps. You look over, but Kareem interrupts your train of thought. – So! Uhm, you’ll never guess.

– What?

– Mr. Cameron came down here, when I was already one with the egg benedict, halfway through the hollandaise, with the bacon already on the skillet, and he told me he’s not gonna have any breakfast.

You chuckle, trying to pull yourself into the conversation. – How considerate of him.

– Right? Such a sweet man. – He takes the plate from the counter behind him, still lingering too close, like he’s blocking you, trying to keep you from running. You shake your head again. You’re acting paranoid. Kareem’s just being sweet. – Here you go. Left some for you, you look hungry.

– Feeding the orphans? I didn’t know you were charitable like that. – He chuckles, almost fooled by your normalcy. – What else do we have to do now, what are these people’s ridiculously specific breakfast orders?

– Uhm, none. Rose doesn’t eat breakfast, Sarah’s not here, Rafe’s already been fed and the only thing Wheezie ever eats is cereal, so we’re off the hook. We can just hang around, plan out the other meals and eat scraps like the dogs we are.

– Scraps are for the strays, my friend. Purebreds like you get full meals, especially in houses like this.

He raises a brow, unimpressed, unamused. – Ha-ha. Very funny.

– Thank you, comedy is my passion.

He shakes his head, and reaches for some paper, already getting you started on the prep. You’re glad for his practicality.

You let yourself sink into the routine.

Anything to keep your mind busy.

The hours pass in a blur of tasks—chopping, prepping, cleaning, planning, moving like you’re on autopilot. Your hands work faster than your thoughts, you like it that way. Every time you stop for too long, something creeps back in—the weight of Rafe’s arms around you, the way he sighed into your skin, the way he smiled against you.

So you don’t stop.

You joke with Kareem, toss out your sarcastic remarks, keep up the easy banter like it’s just another day. And he laughs, calls you a saint for dealing with Rafe every time he calls you up for something menial, rolls his eyes when you dodge his questions about why you took so long.

And for the most part, it works.

It works when you’re plating dishes, when you’re folding napkins, when you’re bickering with Kareem over the right way to season something.

It only falters in the quiet moments.

When you wipe down the counters and catch yourself scrubbing too hard, like you’re trying to wash something invisible off your hands. When you zone out in the pantry, staring at the shelves but not really seeing them. When you hear the faintest creak from upstairs and your stomach flips before you even realize what you’re reacting to.

But you shake it off. You force yourself to.

Before you know it, the day is gone.

The kitchen is clean, tomorrow’s meals are planned, and the only thing left is the quiet hum of the fridge and the last few scraps Kareem keeps picking at.

You exhale, leaning against the counter, forcing yourself to feel normal.

Because everything’s fine.

Right?

You leave Kareem again as he puts away the last of the shopping in its right, labeled place, and you drift back up to Rafe’s room, standing at the door, listening to his steady breathing, forcing yourself to feel at ease.

But you’re not.

You’re not as you close the door. You’re not as you climb down the steps. You’re not as you stand in the driveway, calling Barry for the second time as you wave goodbye to Kareem.

You’re once again staring out into the street, pondering whether to walk or call someone else when you hear a familiar rumble. In the distance, in the surprisingly dim light of the suburbs, you glimpse the red and yellow paint job of Barry’s— actually Rafe’s— bike.

He pulls over slowly, coming to a stop on the asphalt right before you, wearing a jacket you’ve never seen before, and no shoes. 

– What’s up with you, Ghost Rider? Just come back from a rave or something? Whose clothes did you steal? – You’re chuckling to yourself, but your heart’s not in it, you’re still looking over your shoulder as you stand there, waiting for him to take off his helmet, for him to say something, do something. But he doesn’t. He stays there, hands clutching the handlebars, staring forward, without saying a word. – Bee? Jesus, what happened now? Are you okay?

You’re getting shifty. Something's wrong, you can feel it.

Your hand is shaking as you lay it on your best friend’s shoulder, silently pleading that he look at you, say something to you, just give you a sign that he’s alive. But he just turns away.

You hear a light scoff, the sound muddled under the heavy helmet.

– Barry, for fuck’s sakes, just say something, this ghostface act is freaking me out! – He laughs again, just as bitter. – Barry!

He flips the visor, looking back at you with nothing but scorn in his eyes. But these aren’t Barry’s eyes. These eyes are blue.

You step back, shaking more than you can hide. – Where—What— You keep mumbling, but the words don’t come out. You don’t even know what you want to say.

You want to run. You want to hide.

 But when you step away again, this person’s hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, and he wrings you closer, nails digging into your arms. – Get off of me. Get off— You want to scream, but it comes out as a whisper. You’re backing up, your voice hoarse in your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears, and then your eyes catch it.

Right under the collar of his shirt, just underneath the collarbone. The same letters that are engraved into your skin. The same words in the same place. 

He lets go of you, watching you stumble back so desperately you fall, seated, onto the grass, and only then does he take the helmet off. 

You see his hair before you see his face. The mess of blonde strands that spill out from under the cushioned helmet. But not the usual mess, the mess you’d expect from JJ, the mess he gets whenever he wears a helmet.

It’s a very specific chaos.  The sort he gets when he runs his hands through his hair so much he starts tearing it out.

– So it’s true, huh? – JJ’s voice is a blade, a blunt one, it beats you before it can cut. – When John B said it, I couldn’t believe it. I thought you’d never do that. You’d never be so fucking stupid.

– JJ—

– No. – He barely refrains from screaming it, looking away, his fingers clenched so tight around the plastic visor you see his knuckles pale. – You’re not gonna do this to me again! There’s nothing you can say to me right now. Nothing!

– Barry— Where— Your voice dies in your throat. You’re trembling. You don’t know why. You don’t know how, but you can’t stop it.

– Barry doesn’t fucking matter, get on the bike. – You try to swallow, you shake your head, but he doesn’t let you. He reaches forward, grabbing you by the arm again. – Get on the fucking bike right now!

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvilliantrope @vampiriito @sassybearfire

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vindicated (swear i'd never do it again) - choi yeonjun

ꕥ pairing: bf!yeonjun x afab!reader

ꕥ genres: smut, angst

ꕥ rating: 18+ mdni

ꕥ warning: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, arguments, confrontations because they are adults, reader cries a lot, cheating (implied), make up sex, unprotected sex, oral (f.rec) multiple orgasm, fingering, riding

ꕥ wc: 6k

ꕥ a/n: i actually hate this... i've been gate keeping it since last year because of it but nevertheless enjoy

The noise of rain tapping on the windows corresponded with the racing beat of your heart. Weeks had passed since the previous arguments, yet the ensuing silence felt even more distressing. Yeonjun's brown coloured long trench coat still hung by the door, his cologne subtle yet persistent in the air—a harsh reminder of all that was left unsettled between you.

You sit on the floor of your shared apartment with legs crossed, browsing through the pages of a vintage photo album. Your eyes soften at the shiny pictures that seem like it quite narrates a tale of love that seems unstoppable for both of you. Yeonjun was smiling at a summer festival, his eyes almost closing as you guys were hit with warmth from the sun. You were right there by his side, kissing his cheek. Another picture captured you resting on his shoulder during a late-night train journey. At that time, your friends had playfully teased you about your inseparability, during your early stages of relationship, attached closely to each other’s hips all the time.

However, it seems that his love, you don't know, maybe it has faded as time passed. Like a withering flower that is waiting for a moment to shatter on earth, words that were once delivered with sweetness now carry a sharpness. Of course at first, the arguments began minor: late response to messages, any sorts of miscommunications that could have been resolved with an apology. Soon arrived the yelling disputes, doors being slammed, and evenings spent in different rooms. Yeonjun was always the avoidant type, rather than to sit together and talk he prefers to distance himself, stressing you out at the lack of communication.

As you are occupied with countless thoughts, you hear the door slowly being opened, causing you to look up abruptly. Yeonjun enters, his jet black hair evidently wet from the rain. He appears unchanged yet changed, his eyes bearing a heaviness that didn't exist previously. For a brief time, neither of you said anything. The atmosphere in the room was dense, laden with unspoken thoughts.

"You’re still around," Yeonjun eventually says, his tone distant.

"Now you don’t want me here? Where could I possibly go?" You coldly answer, hurt by the question, or his choice of words. Your hands quickly shutting the album and putting it down.

He moves a step closer, then two, then he is standing not even two steps away from you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. "I was wondering if perhaps you… I'm not sure." His voice is toned down at the end, like he’s not sure what to say.

"Isn’t that what you do?" The resentment in your voice was unignorable, tugging at the string of his heart. "You are gone whenever situations become too tense, you always walk away."

Something flinches inside Yeonjun hearing that, but he refuses to look away. “And you always hold on too tight,” he counters back, his voice trembling. “Like you’re afraid if you let go even a little, everything will fall apart.”

“Because it will fall apart, Yeonjun!” Your voice goes up three tones higher, it even cracks, but you care less about that when you have tears welling up. “It already is. Can’t you see that?”

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he asks, his voice breaking as well. “I’ve tried to fix this. I’ve tried to be enough for you, but maybe… maybe we’re just not compatible.”

His words hang between, heavy and suffocating. It feels like he’s admitting defeat, like acknowledging the storm both of you trapped in will never clear. And God, does it hurt. The constant effort you make to understand him better, the lies he told to your face you turned blind eye into, the missed important dates.

“You think I don’t know that?” you whisper, your voice barely audible to him. “But even after everything, I can’t walk away. I… I love you, Yeonjun. Even when it hurts. Even when you hurt me, over and over. I can lose everything, but not you…”

Yeonjun’s shoulders droop, and for the first time in a long time, he looks guilty. He stares at your wet face, your disheveled form, your trembling hands. You never look so broken, his sweet darling, the apple of his eyes, his precious love appears like a broken piece of glass before him, it wrenches his heart thinking that it was from all his doings.

“I love you too,” he admits, his voice raw. You can feel his gaze soften a bit, eyes no longer angry. “But is love enough if all I do is hurting you?”

The question is like a stabbing knife to your heart. You both knew the answer, but neither has the courage to say it aloud. Silence fills the air once more, the rain pouring outside is like a brutal mirror to the storm inside your apartment.

Finally, Yeonjun closes the distance between you. He hesitantly kneels in front of you, his hands trembling as he cups your face. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he says, every word that comes up from his mouth shakes. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Maybe we can’t fix it,” you replied, your tears spilling non stop now that he’s got his hands on you. It is obvious that his hand is cold from the freezing weather outside, yet it spreads warmth inside you as you lean further into his comforting, healing touch. “Maybe we just have to accept that we’re broken. But I’d rather be broken with you than whole without you. I don’t wanna give up on us, Jjunie.”

Yeonjun leans his forehead against yours as he hears the nickname, his own tears falling. You let him engulf you in his arms, arms brushing over each other giving you goosebumps on the realisation that you went on a week without him. His chest heaves up and down, relaxed heartbeat calming you down as you savour the moment.

“I am sorry, baby,” he is the first one to break the silence. You could not pinpoint whether he is sincere about it, but his eyes are telling you like you matter the most in his world. “I hurt you, didn't I? How’d you sleep this past week?” His voice laced with concern, tone so dulcet and sweet you feel like you are falling into a gush of sugar. Knowing you hardly fall asleep without him around, his mind floods with sorrowful guilt.

“Horrible, I missed you,” you come clean, him smiling so softly you would miss it if you weren't right in his hug.

“Poor baby, I missed her too,” he uses his usual baby tone to talk to you, stroking the back of your head while you find yourself closing your eyes at the comforting contact.

“Wanna cuddle?” He's asking so nicely, not even waiting for your answer as he lifts you up from the cold floor, wrapping your legs around his waist. He walks you both to your shared room, your heart thumping as you feel butterflies all over again. The room hasn't changed since the last time you guys slept in the same bed and room, clean simple beige sheets that Yeonjun had changed after your last intercourse being where you land on.

He's taking off his jacket, the only thing that he wears on his upper body being the black sleeveless shirt that drives you crazy everytime you see those on him. Your eyes that are set on him trembles a bit, forcing you to let out a cough.

“It's January. You shall wear something more warm.”

“I could warm up being next to you,” he's quick with his witty answer, already jumping on the bed again, pulling you yet again into his embrace. His face is buried in your neck, lips dangerously wandering around your sensitive areas you breathe deeply as you bite back a moan.

“Jjunie, I thought we were only going to cuddle,” you interrupt, yet you find your hands tangling in his strands of hair, noticeably longer since the last time you held onto them.

“Aren’t we?” his lips latching on your skin by now, gently sucking on the flesh before he lets go, leaving a fresh mark of him on you, reclaiming his territory. He retreats for a while, lips part as he hears the small gasp that comes up as you notice the hickey. “So beautiful…”

As you remain captivated by his alluring move, seemingly innocent as he keeps making out first, then his hands start to roam not only over but now under your clothing a little. He strips your top off first, fondling at your tits.

“Tell me if you don’t want me,” he pauses, looking at your expression. Your doe eyes look at him, a bit glassy. His stomach churns at that, just a moment ago, you were yelling at him but now, under him you could not deny his contact with your body.

“Oh—” you moan out, feeling every inch of your body craving for his touch more and more, you could feel your underwear sticking onto your entrance by now, your arousal grows greedier. “Yeonjun.”

“Am right here, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“Want you, need you, all of you, oh my god—” your words are cut at how he would make easy work of the tiny shorts that wrap you, he slips them off quickly, palming your ass before slipping off the lacy underwear too.

Then his shirt is off in a minute, before long you're staring at one spot on his chest, your voice that says his name shrieking. Yeonjun is confused at first, before he looks at the direction you are setting your eyes to. His eyes widen as you shove him away, your trembling hands pulling the comforter to cover your body.

“Was–was there someone else?” your voice comes up shaky, eyes glistening with tears that pools at your lower lid. Yeonjun is silenced, a lost look evident in his face. “Y/n…”

“Answer me!” Your tears are falling now, your heart crushed at how he’s not quick to reassure you, to deny your assumption, anything. The bruise mark on his chest, one that was not created by you. Sure, your relationship had been quite flimsy at times after a solid three years, but you never had a reason to doubt his love for you. Every time you argue, it was never about a third person. The third person has never come into the picture. “Did you sleep with her?!” you shout, Yeonjun flinches at the tone.

“Baby, I don’t–”

“Then, what the fuck is that on your neck?” you ask, squinting at a faint purplish mark near his collarbone. It was positioned enough to be hidden when he’s wearing a shirt, but now that it’s off, it’s so evident.

Yeonjun covers the hickey with his hand, the movements rushed and awkward. “Oh, this? It’s... nothing. Just a bruise from a fall,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

“Let me see,” you say after a long silence, your tone firm but he can see the way your lips tremble. Yeonjun hesitates a little, but you reach out your hand, and he lets you inspect the spot. You feel your stomach turn as you lightly run your fingertips over it. You aren’t foolish, it was not just any bruise; it was distinctly shaped and coloured like a hickey.

Your heart drops as you feel the reality of the situation. “That has nothing to do with a fall. Be honest with me.”

Yeonjun’s face changes, and the room falls quiet for a brief period. Both of you, especially Yeonjun, feel anxious about the occasion.

He wobbles with "I... I can explain," but his words sounded unsure, and you feel that is an insincere answer. Like he’s hiding something.

Your head whirl with feelings of betrayal, rage, hurt, and disbelief. This has turned into the rifts in the trust you had established together, not simply about the mark. Your head feels heavy, turning down as you cry.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, y/n!” he’s also yelling now, frustration overcoming him. Guilt, sadness and anger mixed in as he breathed in, his own eyes wet. His heart breaks seeing your state, it’s not the first time he sees you crying but this time you look incredibly heartbroken, miserable and not just upset at him.

“Then, what, what would explain this, Yeonjun?” you are fully sobbing, words imprecise swallowed by your cry.

“I was just… at the club okay? I was drunk, I don’t even remember–”

“Fuck that!” you cut him off, your voice burst with fume. “Do you realize how this looks?! How does it feel to even think you might’ve cheated on me? You try to sleep with me when that mark hasn’t even disappeared?!”

“Baby,” he tries again, trying to get closer to you.

“Don’t baby me,” your voice cold as ice in line with the gaze you now give him. “I don’t know, I thought you would never do that to me. I would never find someone else as long as I’m your girlfriend, Yeonjun. So stupid of me to hold on to you, I should have left long ago, so I don’t feel this hurt, because now I love you so much—too much, it feels even more painful…” you confess, finding yourself laughing at the absurdness yet your tears keep on rolling non stop. “If you don’t like me anymore you could just tell me. I would pack my things myself so you don’t have to rub it in like this.” Sniffles exit your nose, the back of your hand become the temporary napkin as you rub your tears away.

His eyes softened as he reached for her hands, his touch warm but cautious. “Y/n, I’d never hurt you like that. I love you. Please believe me.”

You pull your hands back, turning away to hide the tears welling yet again in your eyes. But before you could retreat further, Yeonjun closes the gap between you both, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Y/n, look at me,” he whispers, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re everything to me. I can’t stand the thought of you doubting that.”

You turn slowly, her tearful eyes meeting his. There is sincerity in his gaze that makes your heart falter, and along that, a little of expectation because you can still feel the love. It’s still there in his eyes, filled with it and warmth as he looks at you.

“Explain to me,” you say, trying to steady your voice but Yeonjun, knowing you through, could catch that you are still hoping for his denial, still hoping that it isn’t true what you see. With a regretful smile, he cups your face gently, brushing tears away, his fingers on you treating it as delicate as possible.

“Won’t you judge me?” he carefully asks, studying your expression as your brow rises in confusion.

“It depends,” you answer, short, simple and clear.

“Saturday,” he starts, “I was at Taehyun’s. I was stressed out about our fight, and then he persuaded me into going to the club. Relax a little. I had a drink, maybe two but I was so wasted, I don’t remember who was it, I don’t know her, it was a random girl there, I’m gonna be honest we make out a little, and she did this,” he pauses, touching the mark, before his gaze settles on you confidently this time, “Taehyun came up, and he dragged me out there, telling me all about it the next morning. He was meaning to tell you everything first, but I told him not to, because I want to settle things ourselves.”

“Why didn't you tell her you’re not single,” you complain, lips pouting as you contemplate the story, it seems believable but you don’t know for sure. “And why do you have to be so hot, people literally couldn't leave you alone.”

He softly laughs at that, before turning serious again. “I am sorry, pretty girl,” he apologizes, “I don’t know how to mend things that have already happened, I know I should’ve known how wasted I’d be and just head home.”

He then grabs your comforter covered waist, pulling your head to land on his chest, letting you wet it. Your sobbing grows louder first, hands reluctantly creeping up to touch his shoulders. “I am sorry, oh baby, you don’t know how sorry I am, it’s all my fault, should have stayed that night, just hold you close until you’re not upset at me.”

“What can I do to earn your forgiveness, tell me, gorgeous,” his voice is whiny now, almost pleading when your sniffles haven't stopped. The hand that is holding onto your back scatters random shapes on it.

“Then prove it,” you mumble, looking up to him again, your voice barely audible.

Yeonjun cups your face gently, you look very endearing with cheeks red, eyes swollen and lips pouting a bit, his thumbs brushing away the tears remaining on your cheeks. “I’ll spend my entire life proving it,” he says, the sound of his confession thick with emotion.

Your lips meet together in a tender kiss, one that starts slow but it quickly deepens as you could feel the desperation in his touch, the regret, the unspoken promise that he’d never betray your trust.

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you back on the bed where you can place your head on the pillow comfortably. His hands roam your back as yours are tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The tension between you dissolves into a shared need for closeness, for reassurance, for reconciliation, for love.

Seconds later, he's immediately invading your personal space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. He has his face nestled in the crook of your neck, a heavy breath that tells you he's relieved and something familiar, something that you hunch as love.

“Jun—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of chapstick that you're familiar with, the one that he only uses during winter due to dryness. Desperate sounds leave both your mouths, you are whining while he's half groaning. His body pressed against yours, separated by the cover that hasn't left your body. When he finally pulls away from the passionate kiss, his eyes find yours, filled with affective and yearning.

“I missed you s’ much, princess, how did I survived a whole week without you,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the collarbone with a cherish that signifies his worship on you.

“Would you allow me, princess, I want to make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with his big, puppy-like eyes, an expression so pitiful it’s admirable. The desperation behind them makes it difficult to say no. You aren't better, your whole body is craving for him.

“Touch me,” you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "Please," you breathe out, and he happily obliges, the cover is off the bed instantly.

Then his hands travel down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. The hand then kneads the meat of your ass, your breath hitches as he goes down on you, nails digging into his arms as you inhale deeply as if committing you to memorise his scent.

“My girl’s so pretty,” he slurs out, before he dives into your pussy, your hand goes flying to grab onto his hair as he splits you open through his tongue.

“Yeonjun!”

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. He says sorry, but his action doesn't match the word. “Has been so long since I munched on this.”

Your toes curl, eyes thrown back at the way he is switching between licking and sucking, almost like that's the whole purpose of his life. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He was right though, it has been a while, the pleasure is almost foreign to you.

“Are you still my girl?” he questions, sounding cocky like the usual Yeonjun you know. The sexy, intimidating confidence that has you weak in your knees every time. Your only response is a moan, causing his lips to turn into a smirk, “Of course you are, I‘m the only one that can get you this wet, baby. Correct?”

No longer able to give him a reply, he continues to work his mouth on you. His tongue is relentless, it is sucking onto your entrance, then it is swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. The pace is sloppy, uncoordinated, messy even sometimes, but it only serves to bring you higher to the excitement of it all. Each time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy pant in search of breath, feel the way his mouth lets out your name.

“Oh, Y’jun—” your mindlessly thrown words trail off into incoherent mumbles as you feel closer to the edge, bringing you the sensation. “So close, please.”

The urgency in your begging translates to him as an invitation to continue. The way your entire body is wound up so tense, unwittingly ready to snap. He moves his thumb finger to press on your clit, skilled enough to actually let another two of them be inserted in your pussy, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that dangerous spot that has you seeing stars.

“Shit, you just got way wetter, you have been craving me that much, huh,“ he chuckles against your thighs, and he's not completely wrong. The way he's re-arranging your inside, it's like he's trying to prove a point, to prove that as much as he needs you, you need him too.

"Wanna cum, please," you gasp out, and then he increases the intensity, your thighs shaking like crazy before it all stops as your liquid gushes out. Yeonjun is more than glad to pick up some of it, slurping them from his fingers. His sexy gaze and your quivering ones meet, silent praises and apologies heard from the way he's caressing your waist gently.

“You haven't come yet,” your sweet voice echoes in his ears. You are still the bundle of love for him, always thinking of his pleasure when you were just crying betrayed by his trust earlier. With agony, Yeonjun is shaking his head, presenting you with a small smile.

“No, it's okay princess. I should be fine, let's go to sleep, hmm? You are tired, I'll hold you,” he's denying you, aware of how relaxed your body is after having your orgasm, you must be so sexually frustrated the whole week. On top of that he knows how bad your sleep was affected due to your argument. Your eyes have been drowsy for a while now, yet you find strength to get up, straddling his lap.

“Love shall go both ways, as much as I mean the world to you, you mean the same to me. What you want from me, I want you the same way too.”

Your eyes staring at him, the honesty in it clear as crystal. Your hand that he is missing so much takes off his pants. The skin against his feels so soft, you are moving a bit behind to kneel before him.

“You really don't have to, princess,” he's saying again, hands caressing your hairline. You look up to him with round eyes, determined to mean what you said earlier. In a brief moment, you are presented with his hard-ons, the sight making you drooling. He's denying you once again with the look in his eyes, so you confidently reply, “I wanna do this.”

“Fuck," Yeonjun breathes out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He collects your hair in his fist gently, holding it as you swallow him whole. Your hands move to rest on his thighs, pretty acrylics pressing on it whenever another inch of him goes in.

The feeling of your mouth enveloping him has him pulsing in your throat, his lips part as lewd sounds of him moaning leaves. “You're doing so well for me, babe.”

You take the praise to relax your jaw, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. Your eyes water at the feeling, hurriedly tapping his thighs to let him know the cue. He tightens the grip he has on your hair as he starts to move your head on his length, forcing you to take more and more of him till your nose brushes against his pelvis.

He moves your head up and down, his thrust harsh as he makes you take his entire length then leaving only his tip before repeating the entire process, moaning out your name whenever his head brushes against your throat.

You know he is getting close—you could feel him pulsing in your mouth, as a layer of sweet coated his forehead despite the cold room, making him glow so charmingly. You inhale a deep breath, before sucking in your cheeks, humming his name around him, knowing it is exactly what it would take to throw him over the edge.

“I'm close, baby,” he pleads, inaudible chatters of moans follows after as you double your efforts, and as expected a few seconds later his release spreads through your throat as you continue to bob your head to swallow.

Yeonjun’s chest is heaving, his hair a disheveled mess as he leans his hand heavily against your head, staring down at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him. You guys stay silent for a while, eye contact with each other being the only sole communicator.

And when you place your legs on either side of him, both of his hands finding their home on your waist, your hole wet and slick enough, ready for him, he’s once again starstrucked, the feeling's overwhelming like you’re made just for him. He bites his lip when you slide down with a whiny mention of his name, you stay still for a moment, and he's all but resist as he needs the comfort of you being wrapped around him right now just bad.

Your eyes could not help but trail down to the mark from earlier, upsetting thoughts taking over you as you encounter the upsetting thoughts again. Your eyes tremble with tears as you hold onto Yeonjun’s shoulders, you begin to sob again, the sight making Yeonjun uneasy as he’s even more apologetic when you are so clearly hurt by the smallest mark, yet the biggest mistake he had made.

"You're mine, you got that?" you sniffle, your touch on him soft but it feels possessive enough to Yeonjun at that point of time.

"Of course, all yours baby, only yours," he breathes as you part your lips, looking down on his neckline. Your eyes briefly glance over the hickey painted over his chest and it leaves the feeling of your heart throbbing in your chest. Unshed tears sting at your eyes, the sound of incoherent sob immediately puts him to sit up against the headboard, holding you close to him.

“I’m sorry, we shouldn’t do this, let’s just—”

“No,” you decline immediately, hands clasping together at his shoulder trying to push him back to let you be in charge. You bite back a sob, “I want to do this. Want this off you,” you snivel, looking pitiful and so eager to get the mark to be hidden by your own, your lip finding its way to his skin, sucking on it before your teeth sink on the same exact spot that leaves Yeonjun wincing in pain. He’s staring at you deeply now, heart wrenched as droplets of tears roll down your cheek in frustration.

"I should’ve been better, should’ve tried harder, I'm gonna make things right, love, I swear," he's spurting all his emotion out, hands scrambling to make their way to your thighs and helping you to move.

“Swear I’d never do it again,” he adds, his pillow-y soft lip rasps across your sensitive neck as he plants gentle kisses all over it. The action is filled with reassurance, infatuation, and warmth. Quite literally soft and tender, far from the agony that had filled your heart only moments before.

“There, princess?” he's asking, his tip reaching your sensitive spot, your voice exceptionally high pitched when you reply to him a yes.

He's much more attentive tonight. Usually sex with him was rough, which you couldn’t complain about or dislike, but there is something adorable about him being so soft with you that always made this a lot more enjoyable than usual. His kisses and praises doubles, along with the occasional apologies, his promise to do better. Your mind goes out from while to while, unable to comprehend the actual sentence that he forms. You are just glad he's holding you, grounding you from blacking out.

“Let me show you my love,” he helps you on your back, his dick sliding out for a while, smiling softly when you make a fuss for it, “I know, it's okay, baby,” comes out his mouth as he thrust up into you, sucking at your neck to leave a few more love bites.

“Faster,” you whimper, dissatisfied at the slow pace.

“We'll get there, so impatient,” Yeonjun chuckles, his hand brushing against your arms to settle into your breast, fondling it. Your desperate moans filled the room, the pace slowly building up. Your hand travels down to your clit, rubbing it before it gets shoved away by Yeonjun instantly.

Before you could question his denial, he whispers a stern “I could do that,” as you relax to his touch, his skilled fingers working its magic. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, pulling him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he brings you closer to your high.

He hums against your lips as you tighten around him when you reach your orgasm, peppering the softest kisses all around your face while his hands mapped out your precious body that he’s come to cherish so much. Someone as lovely, as flawless, and as serene as you is a blessing for a man like him, a man who is emotionally lacking and aloof. Your body shakes with the overstimulation, a small smile escapes as he slows the pace, tender and consistent thrust to relax you.

“You feel so good, baby.” His eyes trailing down your body to where you are connected, the base of his cock wraps with thick white rings of your arousal, and his mouth opens at the vicious sight. He watches closely for your expression every time he plunges forward; your hips moving to meet his, thrust for thrust despite your previous orgasm. “Pussy made for me, yeah? Missed me that much?”

Each harsh thrust makes your tits bounce and forces a moan out from you as a response. Yeonjun chuckles at your lack of words, the sight admirable for him. The pleasure on your part made it difficult for you to even make out his expression or words anymore, feeling like you are on cloud nine for a second and a second later you are back on ground.

“Gonna make it up to you, promise,” he’s mumbling in between his praise for you, left at his mercy as he draws various shapes on your clit to push you further in ecstasy, another orgasm creeping in as you hold onto his shoulder tight.

As you let go for him, the endless words of flattery along with assurance of the love he has for you acts as your company. He’s slowing down, waiting for you to come down from your high. As your breath and heartbeat falls into a stable rhythm again, he’s back to thrusting slowly, your breath hitches as you are flooded with oversensitivity, wincing at the intrusion.

“Shh… I’m sorry, just a little bit more, pretty,” his whisper sends relaxation, trusting him with everything as you nod, occasional whimpers leaving your mouth at the slight discomfort. You shift your entire focus on him as he reaches his release, eyebrows furrowed with a slightly opened mouth as you reach your hands out to touch him on the cheek. The contact subconsciously draws a moan from him, resting his forehead on yours.

“Baby,” he calls out, “I’m sorry, I love you.”

Your lips twitch into a small smile, nodding as you rub his cheek yet you say nothing. The silence is deafening, Yeonjun himself cringing as he pulls out from you slowly. None of you breaks the silence as he gets up first to clean himself, allowing you to take a small nap before being woken up by him, for the never forgotten aftercare.

“Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight? I wanna have you in my arms.” The question arises from him as he buttons your pyjamas for tonight. He takes in your cozy state, eyelashes fluttering as you look up to him. You rarely ever see his nervous state, he is a person that always exudes such kind of charisma, carrying himself with confidence, at least around you, yet he seems least intimidating, nervous and very cautious with that simple question.

He isn’t looking for grand gestures or dramatic declarations. What he’s asking for is something simple, intimate, and deeply human: the opportunity to lie beside you, to hold you, and maybe even to begin the slow process of rebuilding what was lost, piece by piece. For a moment, you let yourself believe that this time, it might be different. That he genuinely wants to start anew and make amends, not just relive the moments of the past.

“Of course, Jjunie. Hold me, and don’t let go.”

At your reply, Yeonjun nearly jumps, placing you snuggly in his hold, not missing the opportunity to land a kiss every each and a while on your forehead as you relax and allow yourself to doze off.

[toiletclown]

reciprocation.

spencer agnew x f!reader, enemies to lovers for anon.

mostly fluff, but there is angst (in my opinion)

summary: it started innocuous. a well-meaning question from your best friend. it all spiraled from there.

there are some things in life that are universally true and agreed upon. the sky is blue. the grass is green. and you and spencer agnew hate each other. when your closest friends grow tired of this nonsense, they hatch a plan. it's unlikely, silly, even. but it works.

word count: 13.6k (yes i'm posting this as a one-shot, not multi-chaptered, sorry lol)

────୨ৎ────

"does the whole 'hating spencer' schtick ever get tired to you?" angela asked one day, while the two of you were out to lunch.

it was a sunny day, as usual, and you started sweating through your tank top just a little harder. perhaps the sun came out from behind a stray cloud.

"i'm sorry?" was your response, followed by a forkful of pasta.

"y'know, this weird bit you guys have going on." ang stared at you, analyzing your face, looking for a reaction.

all she saw was confusion. "i'm not... sure what you mean? we don't have 'a bit'. we aren't friends. kind of hard to have an inside joke when you only spend time together on camera. and half the time i drown him out anyway," you shrugged. neither of you liked each other, and that was fine. you were used to it, and the familiarity was nice. smosh was a very busy and ever-changing job. being able to rely on that was kind of nice. you were never a fan of change, anyway.

"wait, so you and spencer actually dislike each other? like, for real?" your best friend looked genuinely taken aback. you weren't sure why, you had thought it was fairly obvious that the two of you didn't get along.

"yes, we actually dislike each other 'like, for real', angela. i thought that was clear, you've seen the way we interact." you were gathering up another forkful of pasta, and angela started laughing. "why the fuck are you laughing?"

"because it's comical? i thought it was a bit! i thought you two were friends and it was just, like, a long, drawn-out joke, honestly."

"why on earth would you think that it was a bit, ang? i'm a good comedian but i'm not that great of a liar. i wouldn't be able to keep up a conspiracy like that. i fear that’s too much work for me." you ate your forkful finally. angela was still looking at you in disbelief, a few small cackles escaping her now and then.

"yeah, that's fair. crazy bit to commit so hard to, i guess. wait, so why don't you like him?" the brunette had abandoned her pasta at this point, bowl pushed slightly out of the way so she can gesticulate with freedom. "and why doesn't he like you? are you secretly middle school rivals? rivals in some niche video game scene? did he outbid you on a guitar on ebay and now you've vowed to ruin his life?"

you rolled your eyes, lovingly. your favorite thing about angela was how far she could take a joke. picked it up and ran with it. you leaned in, your voice barely audible. "you want to know a secret?"

her eyes widened, leaning in and matching your whisper, "yes, please spill!"

you shifted your eyes from left to right, as though looking for someone who could overhear and ruin your life. you took a deep breath in, preparing to spill… the truth.

"i don't actually know why we hate each other," you whispered, shrugging before sitting back in your chair with an air of finality.

"what?!"

"shh, oh my god, shut the fuck up--"

"what do you mean you don't know?" angela was moving her arms wildly at this point, "why do you still hate him then? does he know? what the fuck?"

"babe, i need you to calm down, we are still very much in a public restaurant--"

"and? spill, bitch, or you're paying the full bill."

"fine! god. i genuinely cannot tell you why we hate each other. yes, we do really hate each other. yes, he knows i hate him, and yes, i know he hates me. that has been the only thing we have ever agreed upon in our entire time at smosh. no, we aren't secretly hate fucking. no, i don't have his number, we only talk at and about work so we use slack. no, i don't know why the hate is mutual, i just know that it is. no, i don't plan on trying to change that any time soon. happy?"

before she could respond with what was likely another barrage of questions, your server came to the table and sat the bill down in front of angela.

"they always assume that i'm paying, what the hell?"

you were glad for the distraction.

✰ .ᐟ

"hello and welcome to you posted that? you posted that is a show where we embarrass our guests with their old, cringy, insane social media posts!" the room filled with cheers as ian intro'd the show, and you were so excited to finally be on it. but you also were nervous to see what they dug from the depths of your twitter.

"joining us today..." ian faked a drumroll on the podium, "our first guest is trevor evarts!"

"please don't bring up any of my rhett and link tweets," he said with a wave.

ian drumrolled again, "second up, we have shayne topp!"

"glad to be here, steve."

"and last but not least, y/n!"

"i am terrified." you said, being sure to stare down the camera, a look of anxiety on your face. you were playing it up, but it was definitely real to a degree. you had said a lot of cringy shit in your younger years. not to mention the not-so-uncommon complaints about a certain coworker. ian wouldn’t do that to you, though. right?

"terrified?” ian scanned the contestant's faces. “is anyone else feeling terrified?"

"not really, steve. i'm proud of what i've done and said and i'll stand by it no matter what. if i don't stand up for myself, who will, you know?" shayne said, clearly doing a character. a slightly intoxicated, far too excited game show contestant. you kind of loved it.

"my name is ian, and i think you know that, shayne. why are you terrified, y/n?" ian turned to you, egging you on.

"i was a shit head as a kid, i don't know how far back you dug!"

"alright then, let's get into the first round." ian explained the rules of the round, and each of you listened intently despite knowing them well.

"trevor. you tweeted, 'my two [blank] need to [blank] before i [blank blank blank].’ and i will give you a hint, this was a tweet from about a year ago."

"why does he get a hint right away!" you called out.

"he's not very bright, y/n, i'm sure you understand." ian replied, prompting trevor to make a few noises.

"be nice to me?"

ian turned back to trevor, mischievous glint in his eye. "y/n's not very bright, trev, i'm sure you understand."

"be nice to me?" you all started laughing, and once it died down trevor made his guess.

"okay, i'll take 'my two coworkers need to fuck before i explode them both' for five points, alex!"

"i remain ian, but let's reveal that tweet!"

"holy fuck," you said under your breath, realizing he got it right on the money. "how did you manage to remember the exact wording? i don't remember what i had for breakfast yesterday. oh my god, i'm gonna lose so hard at this!" you weren’t even playing it up now, you were actually getting worried. you were going to lose, and by a lot. hopefully you can attribute your lack of skill to the now-infamous gas leak.

"because these two coworkers still haven't fucked and i still want to explode them, honestly," trevor breathed out, seemingly annoyed at the two coworkers in question.

ian giggled behind the podium, a strangely worrisome sound, and you and shayne glanced at each other in shared horror. "trevor,” ian paused, multiplying the level of suspense you were already feeling. “for an extra fifty points, do you want to tell us who the coworkers are? we'll bleep it."

"fifty points?!" shayne yelled, playfully incensed by this rule breaking.

"just take me out back like ol yeller, i beg." you set you head on the podium, which wasn't exactly a comfortable angle, but this wasn't going to be as fun as you thought if ian was going to play dirty the whole game.

the room erupted in laughter as trevor pondered his choice. "no, i won't. i don't want to start anything, fifty points is nothin' compared to my pals at smosh!"

you all booed him, lovingly, and ian giggled again. "shayne, for an extra fifty points, can you guess the coworkers trevor's tweet is about?"

"do you know who it's about?" shayne asked, confused.

"oh, i think everyone in this room does," ian's grin was devilish, relishing in the chaos he was causing. he's been watching too much game changer.

"okay, i'll guess for fifty points. is it angela and amanda?" the room erupted once more, angela's laugh heard loud and clear on every mic.

"incorrect! okay, let's see your post, shayne!"

"wait, i don't get to guess?" you cut in, feeling a little bit excluded from the joke.

"would you like to?" ian asked, earnest, though that devilish smile was still fixed to his mug.

you thought about it for a second. "actually, i'm good. i think my choices are too controversial. y'all aren't ready for my vision."

everyone laughed, and the game moved on.

"shayne. your tweet says: '[blank] is overrated. [blank] is cooler.'"

shayne's silence dragged on, and ian asked if he had a guess. after a beat, shayne stood stock straight up, ready to answer.

"steve, my answer is. 'steak is overrated. chicken is cooler.' for five points."

"let's see..."

ian revealed the next slide, and a slide whistle sound effect played. “oh, that’s too bad shayne. the correct answer was ‘penis is overrated. dick is cooler.’ so close, so close. alright, y/n, it’s your turn!”

you were feeling a little better now that shayne had gotten his wrong. maybe trevor would win, but it didn’t have to be a huge blowout, right?

“y/n, your tweet says ‘i need [blank] to [blank blank] or i will [blank] in [blank blank].’ this seems evil, y/n, if i’m being honest.” ian’s wicked smirk was still firmly planted; he was playing dirtier than you ever thought him capable of. 

“what’s genuinely crazy is i’ve been so worried that i would not remember anything i’ve ever tweeted, but i actually do remember this one!” you laughed hard and loud, but then you remembered you did in fact have to tell everyone what it said. you could lie, but they’d just reveal it after anyway, and you had made a big stink about knowing it now… all you could do was fill in the damn blanks. “okay, it says ‘i need noomf–”

“you need what?” shayne asked, incredulous.

“noomf, it means ‘not one of my followers’ instead of oomf, which is ‘one of my followers’. anyway, ‘i need noomf to fuck off or i will piss in his kickstart’.” you covered your face with your hands, genuinely embarrassed. this would all be a good laugh after shooting wrapped, but in the moment you just wanted to scream a bit.

ian decided to go full little shit mode and not even make a comment, just click to the next slide showing that you were correct. every word. “five points for y/n!”

“oh, fuck, i forgot i was getting points for that. i’ll stop moping now!” you laughed, pushing yourself back into your camera persona, bright and light and happy. you could feel spencer’s daggers in the back of your skull all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

everyone broke for lunch after the finishing the shoot, and angela and courtney were the first to harass you. 

“bro, you tweeted that you would piss in his kickstart?” courtney started. 

“you guys don’t follow each other on socials?” angela then asked. 

court took another turn next, “do you guys not talk outside of work at all?” 

“no! they only talk about work so they always talk through slack!” angela was kind enough to explain your point from lunch the other day.

you stood there, tapping your foot. a bit comical, but a flair for the dramatic never hurt anybody, especially not in this industry. “are we done here? can i go get my food now?” you asked, no venom. “here, let’s just eat together and you can ask all your silly little questions. can’t promise i’ll have an answer for everything, but i’ll do what i can.”

you all lined up at the catering tables and grabbed some food, then found your way to an empty table to start this awful discussion.

you decided some rules needed to be put in place, because as much as you loved angela and courtney, you really didn’t want this to blow up into some ‘big thing’. coworker feuds happen in every office setting, it’s inevitable. it doesn’t need to be a whole situation, in your opinion.

“okay, before we start i’m going to lay some ground rules. you can ask whatever questions you want, but i’m allowed to not answer certain ones. whatever is said at this table, remains at this table, forever. and finally, i beg y’all to speak at a normal volume and not freak out for no reason. i do not need the whole company knowing my business. i’m sure you understand.”

they both nodded, and you decided to get courtney up to speed in case they had a question angela had asked you at lunch the other day, which was likely. now that you thought about it, angela was the only person you had really talked about it with. no one else you worked with seemed to mind, or care, so you didn’t think you’d ever need to answer any questions about it.

“court, before we start, angela actually ambushed me about this the other day so i do already have a few frequently asked questions answered. no, it isn’t a bit. we don’t have any friendship at all. we do not speak outside of work. i’ve never seen him outside of work. we do not have each other’s numbers. we do not follow each other on social media. we aren’t secretly dating. yes, we do hate each other, and, yes, it’s mutual. but… no, i don’t have a reason why.” you were fairly out of breath by the end of your rant, and courtney gave you a moment to catch back up.

“you don’t have a reason why? how can you both hate each other for no reason?” their voice was soft, caring. it burned.

a sigh escaped you. “as far as i know, neither me nor spencer have a ‘reason’ for hating each other. but it’s just a truth at this point. we hate each other, so we don’t interact outside of work. we play nice for the camera, but only because it wouldn’t really be entertaining if we didn’t. some truths are just truths. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and me and spencer hate each other.” you took a few bites of the salad you grabbed from the line, surprised at how good the dressing was. “holy shit, this dressing is fantastic,” you mumbled, hoping, in vain, to prompt a conversation change.

“like i said, i thought the bickering you guys did on camera was an inside joke. i didn’t know there was real anger behind it,” angela said, seeming a bit sad at this revelation.

you realized once again that you hadn’t actually had an honest conversation about this with anyone. you had never taken the time to flesh out this charade you were playing. “i’m not even sure the anger is real.” you said solemnly, quiet as a mouse. “i think it started as a bit. i’m not sure when it turned real, but it is. i guess.”

angela put her arm around you, sensing your mood drop. “hey, hey. it’s alright. you going to be okay, babe?”

courtney put their hand on yours, which you held. you felt like you were naked on a stage – feeling too vulnerable all too suddenly. after a second longer, you pulled yourself away from both of them. “i’m okay, it’s okay. can we change the topic, though? i… guess i’m not ready to talk about it, or something.”

you zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

✰ .ᐟ

when the day had finally ended, you felt the most immense relief you’ve felt in all your damn life.

finally. time to go home and dick around on your guitar. today provided a lot of feelings for a hopeful writing session. 

everyone at smosh knew you played guitar, but no one knew you wrote original music too. it was the easiest way to process what you were feeling. and if it sounded bad, then it sounded bad. at least you felt better afterwards. you never recorded anything you wrote, because it was a form of therapy for you. you let it all out, you cry, you scream, whatever. then you worked on healing. this was your process, and you loved it.

you were planning out some verses mentally when shayne caught up to you on the way to your car. “hey, y/n! i have a strange question.”

you turned, surprised by his appearance. “sure, shayne. what’s up?” 

“are you seeing anyone right now?”

“why, are you and courtney looking for a third?” you raised an eyebrow, which had shayne giggling. you continued, “no, i’m single. why?” 

“no reason!” shayne yelled, and promptly sprinted away.

“okay, see you tomorrow, i guess!” you shouted after him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you. for such a small man he had a seemingly large stride. he was already halfway across the parking lot when you finished your sentence. “what the hell is this job, anyway?” you muttered, trying to find the melody you had thought of earlier in the day as you drove home in blissful silence.

✰ .ᐟ

alex: yoooo

spencer: what’s up?

alex: kiana’s friend is so your type it’s criminal

spencer: ok?

alex: i’m serious dude she’s like your dream girl!!

spencer: ok?

alex: hi spencer this is your best friend kiana, you have a date with my friend tomorrow at 7pm at our fav chili’s, ok love you!

spencer: i’d rather not

alex: she said shut up and be there or she’s dumping your kickstart stash

spencer: you are both evil.

alex: <3

✰ .ᐟ

you slept like shit last night. again. the past few nights were just not kind to you, and you could tell it was obvious.

“whoa, y/n… do you need to borrow some concealer?” courtney asked upon seeing you in the kitchen this morning. “i’m sure someone has a shade match in the building.”

“gee, thanks, court.” you laughed weakly to yourself, knowing she had nothing but good intentions. “i’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, not sure what’s going on.” you turned around and sighed into your coffee mug, exhausted. “maybe my body is trying to tell me something.”

courtney smiled, then came to lean against the counter next to you.

“you’re single, right?” they questioned, eyes bright.

you sighed again. “yes, just like i told your husband yesterday, i am single.”

“do you have plans tonight?” 

“other than sitting on my couch with my guitar, probably not. perhaps i’ll watch a movie. who’s to say? the world is my oyster.” 

they rolled their eyes at you, but leaned in closer to whisper. “our favorite chili’s, tonight, 7pm. you’re going on a blind date with someone i know very personally, who is perfect for you.”

she was out of the kitchen before you could pick your jaw up off the floor to protest.

✰ .ᐟ

you stood in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. what the hell was going on. courtney had sent you a text fifteen minutes ago, a reminder of why you were standing in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. you had a blind date at chili’s in 45 minutes. what the hell was going on. 

if you were in an alternate universe, perhaps all the dots you were connecting in your brain would turn out to be correct. you felt like that bit in buzzfeed unsolved. 

i’ve connected the dots. 

you haven’t connected shit! 

in an alternate universe, your friends beating the truth out of you about your feud with spencer, then turning around and orchestrating a blind date for you would mean something. and it would mean they were setting you up with spencer. just for a moment, just a sliver of a second, you imagined that universe.

you imagine it all working out.

but then you pull yourself out of it, and start actually getting ready for your date. 

he was probably just another improv actor with a nose ring. and he was probably nice. cute, even. but you couldn’t stop thinking about brown curly hair, piercing eyes, a hydroflask full of kickstart. 

a green smosh hat. a carhartt jacket. stubble. glasses. you loved his glasses, and secretly cursed him when he would wear his contacts. spencer.

your phone vibrated against the counter, painfully reuniting you with reality. “shit.”

you fumbled to answer the call, still feeling lost in the syrupy haze of that alternate universe of yours. “hey, court.” 

“are you on your way? find my friends says you’re still at your place!” they rushed out, and you pulled your phone away from your face to see you had less than 15 minutes to be ready and out the door.

“shit! sorry, i didn’t realize how late it got. i’m finishing up now, i’ll be on my way before you know it.” the silence on the other end was deafening. “i promise! but i have to get off the phone to get ready, okay?” 

“fine. please send me a photo of your outfit before you leave. i love you! bye!” courtney ended the call, and you sighed.

“let’s get this over with.” you mumbled to your empty bathroom.

✰ .ᐟ

spencer was pissed. if his friends didn’t suddenly decide to meddle in his love life, he wouldn’t be on a random side street, a mere three miles from chili’s, replacing his flat fire. at 7:08 pm. he didn’t even want to go on this date, but he also didn’t want to be a dick and show up late. alex and kiana didn’t share any info about this mystery girl so he couldn’t text her to let her know. he decided to call alex as he was getting ready to hoist the spare tire out of his trunk. 

“aren’t you on a date right now?!” alex shouted down the phone, no greeting. spencer rolled his eyes.

“chill, i got a flat tire. i’m down the road, like eight minutes max if traffic is kind to me. can you please let my date know i’m not standing her up, i just have to throw the donut on my car really quick.” he was fiddling with the tire iron while he spoke, suddenly nervous and upset at the prospect of hurting this mystery girl’s feelings. he shoved the emotion down and nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder, a smidge tighter than before. “please just let her know.”

“okay, okay.” alex took a breath in, and spencer could tell they’re relieved that the date isn’t a disaster, but only getting there kind of is. “i’ll let her know.”

they said goodbye, and spencer got back to work on the tire. 

elsewhere, alex texted courtney. 

alex: hey spencer got a flat tire. should be there in like 10-15

courtney: ok i’ll let y/n know!

alex: he called me and i nearly shat my pants

courtney: understandable lol if she called me 10 mins in i’d also be panicking

alex then texted kiana.

alex: spencer is late bc he got a flat tire i’m gonna bomb him

kiana: now, now!! it will work out in the end, grasshopper

alex: dont be weird

kiana: says u

✰ .ᐟ

you looked at your phone again. 7:20. you were on your second glass of water, munching on your chips and salsa and sighing. people were starting to stare at you. look at that poor girl, sipping her water, waiting for someone who isn’t showing up. surely she knows, they thought, surely she knows he’s isn’t coming.

unfortunately, you were still holding out hope. for some reason. you didn’t even want this, your friends just dropped it on you. but now that you were here, you felt hopeful. 

most people who know you wouldn’t exactly call you a romantic, but somewhere buried deep inside you, you longed for companionship. everyone did, to some degree – it was human nature. so you decided that at 7:30, you’d leave. 

even if tearing yourself from the booth would burn like wildfire.

you looked at your phone once more. 7:22. you’d been brooding in silence, alone at this table, and alone in this world. a vibration startled you out of it.

courtney: hey he’s almost there!!! he got a flat tire he should be there in about five mins, ok?? i’m so sorry and so is he!!

your heart rate picked up, that hope reigniting and spreading a warm fire throughout your body. you weren’t being stood up. good.

y/n: ok! thank you for updating me <3

courtney: of course bb i love you sm! have fun! text me all the deets!

as you smiled and steadied your fingers to type a reply, an all too familiar voice rang out. “are you being stood up at chili’s?” it asks.

you involuntarily rolled your eyes, all too easily sliding into this role you play. no one could say you weren’t a good actor. because here you were, slipping under that mask that fit so comfortably. playing a character. because an hour ago, you were hoping it would be him. you wanted it to be him. but now, he was here. which meant you had a role to play, and you would play it well. you’d give him an oscar award-winning performance. 

“please explain how my activities outside of the office are any of your business, spencer.” you deadpanned. it didn’t hit like you wanted it to. “he’s late.”

“scoot. i’m hungry.” he says, and you stare at him.

“i’m sorry?” you admonished.

“scootch over. have you ordered yet?” he asks, casual as all get out. like this was normal, or reasonable. 

you both know your roles. you know your lines. you’ve been off-book for years. what was he doing? he was going so far off script, ad-libbing, completely disregarding the words written for you, the ones you’d both studied and memorized. you were an improv comedian, and yes and-ing was never something you struggled with. but this wasn’t supposed to be improv. this was scripted. heavily. this was not reality tv, this was not whose line, this was a 40-minute sitcom with strict character archetypes, and you both knew your roles. 

while you waited in vain for the non-existent director to yell ‘cut!’, you found yourself moving over and letting him slide into the booth. it didn’t occur to you to just tell him to sit on the opposite side, which was empty. 

despite the warmth of the evening and the restaurant, you felt a shiver up and down your spine.

your server, carissa, came back to the table, and she looked relieved that your ‘date’ had finally arrived. she was probably about 20 years old, and her whole vibe said, “if he doesn’t show up, i’ll kill him for you.” 

“took you long enough, dude,” was her greeting of choice. spencer looked surprised, which caused a laugh to escape you. “what would you like to drink?”

spencer seemed a bit lost for words, but managed to say “just a water, please,” after a not-entirely inaudible swallow.

carissa turned her attention back to you, “did you want to order now? or does mister late as fuck need some more time?” she gestured at spencer with her pen, her voice full of humor. it was entirely opposite of the darker voice she used on spencer.

you loved this girl. “easy on him, carissa. i’m sure he has a good reason.”

spencer looked at you, and you realized you probably should have specified that he actually wasn’t the person you were waiting on. your mind drifts back to that slice of an alternate universe, the one you wanted to slot yourself into for longer than just a fleeting moment. your heart quickened its pace once more, and you silently willed it to calm down.

he doesn’t like you, you thought, solemnly. he likes chili’s. he’s probably here to meet kiana or something. the thought of kiana joining you at dinner was a happy one, usually. you loved her. she was bright and bubbly and she was incredibly smart. you loved listening to her talk. but right now, it almost felt like that little alternate universe and the universe you’re currently stuck in were overlapping for a moment. you wanted to keep this feeling. hold it close.

you zoned back in when spencer started talking, both of you unsure how long you had been looking at each other for. it might have been the first time you both really looked at each other. the glancing and the glaring around the office was short lived. never more than a few seconds. this look felt like it stretched on for years, unending. this wasn’t just the first time you both looked at each other, it might also be the first time you really saw each other.

and, if you were just a bit more unhinged, you’d have said that it felt like home.

“i had a flat tire. i was right down the road but i had to put the spare on, so i’m much later than i wanted to be. i try to be early to dates, but it seems like the world was betting against me tonight.” spencer looked at his lap, sheepish, all of the sudden. it was cute. a soft expression you had no clue he was even capable of. it suited him, emotion. or, emotions other than anger.

“see? that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse,” you replied, which prompted a gasp from spencer. 

you find the roles shifting, no longer are you and spencer coworkers trapped in an office, glaring at each other and attempting niceties on camera. now, you were stepping into the roles of love interests in a rom-com with 80s flair. the quiet, misunderstood girl, and the edgy yet likeable boy. fake dating for some reason or another, only to fall in love for real in the end. the it was always you trope.

you could play this character just as easily as you could play the hateful coworker. maybe this role would win you a sag award. you set it next to your academy award on your imaginary awards shelf.

“it’s not an excuse! it’s a reason. an explanation, if you will.” spencer said, faux-horror in his voice.

“and i will.” you shot back, playing into it. you could fit so comfortably here.

carissa faked a yawn, and you ask her for a triple dipper – mozzarella sticks, big mouth bites, and chicken tenders. spencer had no comment on this, which made you quite happy, oddly enough. 

once carissa had walked away, spencer turned his body to face you a little more, and you felt closed in in the best way possible. he was suffocating you with his presence, but it felt good. safe, even.

you settled into the booth, a little taken aback by his sudden attention. honestly, you paid more attention to him around the office than you would ever admit to anyone. you both had desks in the same pod so you were in proximity at all times, and you looked. a lot. and maybe you pined. maybe… just maybe, you had been pining this whole time. 

“what’s goin’ on up there?” spencer asked, nodding toward you.

“i don’t know,” you replied. it was the truth. you weren’t sure what was going on in your brain, just that you had no urge to stop it. more like an urge to give in.

carissa reappeared with a glass of ice water for spencer. he whispered a soft “thank you” in her direction, but his eyes never left yours. she walked away without a response.

“y’know, i was actually supposed to meet someone here tonight. i should probably tell alex what’s going on.”

your ears perked up at the mention of alex. “why would you tell alex?”

“they’re my best friend?” spencer said, eyes now on his phone. “also, it was a blind date. i don’t have her number,” he explained, frowning. “or her name.” his thumbs were flying across the keyboard, and you watched in silence. you were suddenly enraptured by his hands. 

then, it clicked. “oh my fucking god!” you groaned, which caused spencer to turn his focus back on you. 

“what? what’s wrong?” there was genuine concern in his voice, something you had never heard from him. it stoked the fire inside you, pulling it back up to a dangerous roar. this chili’s would erupt in flames if this continued on for much longer.

in lieu of a response, you simply grabbed your phone off the table, calling courtney and putting the call on speaker.

“hey! how’s it going?” courtney asked, speech stilted with nerves.

“what’s my blind date’s name, courtney?”

you heard spencer mutter something under his breath.

“you’ll know him when you see him! like i said, he had a flat tire. wait, it’s been, like, forty minutes, why isn’t he there yet?” their sentence got quieter as they moved through it, processing in real time.

spencer leaned in, clearly only getting closer to the mic so courtney could hear him, but you’d like to think he wanted to be closer to you, too.

“i’m here, courtney.” was all he said.

“neither of you sound happy…” they moped.

you rolled your eyes affectionately. they meant well, and you said as much. “i know you meant well, honey, but me and spencer have absolutely no chemistry.” there it was again. you switched back to your original role, the one you had spent far too much time in, the one that was closer to home. “this wasn’t a good idea and i think you know that.”

you dared to peek at spencer, who was looking right at you, forlorn. “yeah, court. i appreciate the team effort, but unfortunately me and y/n are just not compatible.” his voice was tight. angry. and just like that, spencer was also back in his original role. perhaps it felt like home to him too, and he also didn’t care for change. some things are just true. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and you and spencer agnew hate each other.

for once, you found yourself wishing it wasn't true.

✰ .ᐟ

once you and courtney hung up, you asked carissa for the triple dipper to be to-go, and you and spencer went your separate ways. the whole drive home, the car was silent and so was your brain. normally you’d be crafting melodies and writing bridges, ever the artist. but tonight your brain was turned off. you had to keep it that way, purposefully silencing the thoughts that threatened to burst through. you couldn’t think about the looks spencer gave you. you couldn’t think about the smell of his cologne when he leaned close to talk to courtney. you couldn’t think about the way he apologized. 

i’m sorry about this, y/n. i know that we don’t like each other but i wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

this?

the whole, blind-date-with-my-enemy thing. 

spencer, why are we enemies?

i don’t know, y/n. but i think we both know it needs to stay that way.

it seemed like he had been mentally policing his word choice. careful, stoic. there was emotion in his voice, but not in his face. his jaw was tight. spencer felt bad. despite it all, he didn’t want to hurt you. this was a rejection, plain and simple, but he was being merciful. though, it also felt forced. like this isn’t what he really wants, but it’s how things have to be. a law of the universe, at this point. an intrinsic truth. we can’t be anything other than coworkers and enemies. anything else would be disastrous.

you felt silly, catastrophizing like this. 

as you turned your key in the lock of your front door, your guitar called to you from the corner of the living room.

let it out, it seemed to say, feel your feelings, so you can move on.

and so you did. you changed into some sweatpants and an old crewneck, sat yourself on the floor of your apartment, and got to writing. 

perhaps you would one day add a grammy to your little imaginary awards shelf. an academy award for your coworker enemy character, the breakout role. the sag award for your little lovesick puppy character you got to play tonight, at chili’s. and a grammy. for you. no character, no facade, just you.

but you’d have to record yourself to achieve that. and now wasn't the time for bravery, now was the time for processing and moving on. 

✰ .ᐟ

the next morning, you woke up to a small barrage of messages. mostly courtney apologizing. an apology from shayne as well. a text from ang asking if you were okay. alex, kiana, and amanda also messaged you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to keep scrolling. until your eyes caught on something new. an unsaved number, who had texted you a mere minute before you woke up.

unsaved: hey. sorry again about last night. 

your heart leapt into your throat, and that fire under your skin was back. you put your phone face down on your nightstand and promptly took a shower.

upon your arrival at work, you were reminded of how fucking gossipy this damn office was. people were throwing you apologetic looks all day, clearly informed on the situation. thirty minutes before your first shoot, ian pulled you to the side.

“hey, y/n. um, is there anything you wanted to talk about? or let me know about?” ian asked, clearly uncomfortable.

you looked at him in confusion, head tilted to the side. “i… don’t think so?” you said it like a question, because it kind of was one. surely one blind date arranged by other coworkers that didn’t even result in a relationship wasn’t cause for concern, right?

“okay, i’ll just ask then. are you and spencer in a relationship? it’s okay, if so, but there’s a lot of paper–”

you cut him off, astounded he even thought to ask such an insane question. “whoa, whoa, whoa. me and spencer are not dating. why on earth gave you that idea?”

ian blushed, and it was quite cute. he clearly felt a little out of his depth, which is silly considering the amount of coworker relationships at smosh. he’s done this at least three times, you think he’d be better at it.

“well i've heard whisperings around the office that you two went on a date last night,” he said.

“and you thought that a date between us would end well?” you asked, a bit astounded. “i'm not even sure why court and them even set it up, it's fairly well known that we don't like each other in the slightest.” internally, you were thinking about the low tone spencer had when he was next to you. boxing you in, commanding your attention. maybe you had been pining this whole time. but that was not anyone else’s business, so you would continue to keep those feelings behind a quadruple-padlocked door, far in the back corner of your brain.

“y/n, can i talk to you as a friend and not as a boss or coworker?” ian dropped his voice, a soft smile on his face.

“of course, ian.”

“i think you know damn well that you and spencer are made for each other.”

“i–”

he cuts you off. “you might have everyone else fooled, and you might even have yourself fooled. but to a degree, i think there’s a part of you that wants that. and it’s okay to want that. to want spencer. it’s okay to want. but if you ask me–”

“i didn’t–”

“but if you ask me,” he bulldozes, committing to saying his piece. “i think it’s also okay to have. it’s right in front of you for the taking, and as much as you can deny it, i think you also know that.”

you were quietly stunned by this emotional, introspective, hopeless romantic version of ian. “i know i can want, ian. i know more than well enough what wanting feels like.” a sigh escapes you, suddenly exhausted. “but i can’t have. not this time, not this one. i can have something else, later down the road. but i can’t have this. i’m not allowed to have this.”

“why not?”

you stayed silent. you hadn’t thought about the why not of it all. it was another one of those things. spencer was an enemy. spencer was off limits. he was forbidden. prohibited. a thing you could want, but never, ever have.

“i just can’t, ian.” you sighed, resigned. you were getting tired of fighting this battle, but it wasn’t like you had a choice.

“okay, y/n.” his voice is soft, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “well, when you can, i’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.”

“i’d never ask that of him.”

“you don’t have to.” ian wrapped you in a hug, and then walked back to whichever office he came from, leaving you in a pile of emotions at the end of the hall.

“what the fuck is happening,” you whispered to yourself. the world was turning upside down, and you were starting to get quite motion sick.

you sat down on a nearby sofa, checking the time. you had to get your mic pack set up in about five minutes, so you tried to use that time to regulate your breathing. in, two, three, four. out, two, three, four. you knew you were shooting a pit video, but you couldn’t remember what it was or who was going to be in it with you. was it a reddit stories today? no, that was thursday… 

“y/n?” erin dougal called. your head snapped up, your thoughts finally simmering to a normal volume. a distraction was welcome, and erin was always up to something.

“yeah, what’s up?” you replied, hoping for some sort of insane tiktok pitch that tommy dreamt up, or some gossip about the caterer she had a thing for. 

“ready for the shoot?” right, your job. guess those five minutes passed faster than you thought. at least you had calmed down substantially.

“oh. yeah, sorry. what are we shooting again?” you hoped she wouldn't rag on you too much for forgetting your shoot schedule. surely she was aware of your current goings-on.

she gaped at you in response. “seriously? we've only been gearing up for this shoot for, like, two months.” 

fuck. today was courtney’s hide and seek shoot. fuck. you had been so wrapped up in the bullshit of this week you had forgotten to even plan a place to hide. 

“oh! right, sorry. not sure how i forgot that.” you stood up, trying to collect yourself, embarrassed.

you followed erin into the small parking lot right outside the office, where everyone was waiting to be let inside. she debriefed you on the general rules, which have been the same since the first hide and seek video. you nodded along, and tried to figure out where the hell you were going to hide.

before you knew it, everyone was rushing inside. you decided to go up into the weird little attic space duran usually hides in, knowing he wasn't set to be in the video. it was a guaranteed easy find, and you didn't really want to be alone with your thoughts for very long. you had a history of being found extremely early on, and you weren’t planning to break that streak. especially not when you had so many other things to deal with right now.

but the universe was never on your side. you climbed up the slightly unstable ladder, using your phone’s flashlight to look for a spot, when you saw him. spencer was already up here, because of course he was.

“no.” was all he said.

“c’mon, this week has been shitty enough. i don't have any other ideas.” you whispered, knowing there wasn't much time left. “i can't find another spot, there's only, like, 20 seconds left.”

“no, y/n.” he was firm in his answer, but you were just as stubborn.

you gathered a bit of courage, and made your way over to him, ducking in the tight space. you sat down right next to him, a fraction of a fraction of a centimeter between you. “yes.”

he rolled his eyes and rested his head on the painted cinder block wall behind him, lids fluttered closed, too tired to fight. you understood that feeling all too well. “fine.”

✰ .ᐟ

turns out, courtney miller is exceptionally terrible at hide and seek. you’d both been waiting in silence to be found for over thirty minutes. if you had known how long you’d have to sit in such close proximity to spencer, you’d have made several different choices. starting with calling out of work today. 

“jesus, court.” you whispered. then, turning to spencer, you spoke just a tad louder. “we’re supposed be recording confessionals, you know.”

“i'm aware,” spencer said. no malice in his voice, though you could tell he tried. his mask was slipping.

you pulled out your phone and clipped your little selfie light onto it. “hey guys, y/n and spencer here. it’s been over thirty minutes at this point, and i don't think courtney’s even entered the kitchen, let alone this fuckass room.”

“fuckass is crazy,” spencer says, in that giggly, drawn out way he always does. you always liked when he did that. it made your stomach do somersaults, for a reason you could never pinpoint.

“are we allowed to hide together? i know lisa and jeremy technically did in shayne’s hide and seek video.” you ask, purely for the content of it all. you couldn’t care less about any of the rules right now. you were next to spencer, and it felt right. fuck the rules. 

“i'm not sur–” a noise erupted from the kitchen, and spencer paused. “they’re hereeee,” he singsonged. he was disgustingly cute.

“gotta go!” you said, quickly ending the recording and putting your phone away. 

spencer looked at you, and you looked at him. faces mere inches apart. you both heard the door to the kitchen closing, signifying courtney’s exit. you were both safe, for now. no need to stay quiet. but neither of you spoke. 

the silence carried on, seconds to minutes. you started to really look at spencer, dissecting his beauty.

the shine in his eyes, even in this dim, unflattering light. the ghost of a smile on his face. he's the first to turn away.

“y/n,” spencer near begged. “please.”

“what?” you asked, genuine.

he looked back at you. then he leaned in, so close you could feel his breath when he spoke again. “you're killing me, y/n. you know what you're doing.”

you angled your face, just so, closer than you've been to anyone in a long time. closer than you've ever been to spencer agnew. “oh? what am i doing, spencer?” you batted your eyelashes at him.

he inched closer, prompting your noses to touch. it sent a shooting pulse of sparks through your blood. “tell me to stop, y/n.” he whispered, borderline tremulous.

“why?” you didn’t retreat, and you certainly didn’t oblige him.

“please, tell me to stop.” he was still staring into you, through your eyes and deep into that corner of your mind. the quadruple-padlocked door. he held every key, and you could see it all play out: him unlocking every single one with ease. blatant disregard for the consequences of his reckless actions.

you let him. no, you encouraged him. “why can't you stop yourself, spencer?” 

you knew full well courtney could burst in at any moment. you're acutely aware that you're both at work right now, in the middle of a shoot. you couldn’t seem to find the strength to give a fuck.

“because you're in charge, y/n. you always have been. i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.” 

you moved your eyes to his lips, finally tearing away from that gaze. “go,” you whispered.

that was all he needed to crash his lips into yours.

it’s not a great kiss. it never is when you're both this pent up. it's either too aggressive or too soft, never exactly what you're expecting, or wanting. but it enveloped you in that now familiar fire, and you didn’t even care. this could be the worst kiss of your life and you would still think of it fondly years down the line. because it's spencer. and you wanted spencer. and he, seemingly, wanted you too. so you want. and you have. just for a moment.

your brain finally rebooted and you immediately started kissing back, forceful. spencer’s hands found your body, and they wandered. he set them on your hips, then moved one to your neck. then one in your hair and the other on your face. you only pulled back from lack of oxygen. out of pure necessity.

as you both sat there, foreheads pressed against each other, chests heaving, you started to think about what you've done. he didn't just unlock that door, he blew it off the hinges. you weren’t sure you could ever deny yourself the feeling of kissing spencer agnew. not anymore, not now. you've become addicted on the very first hit, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 

a loud bang on the opposite side of the wall had both of you separating. only an inch or so between the two of you, knowing you're about to be caught. you willed your heart rate down. trying to breathe slow, deep breaths. “time to be found i guess,” you whispered. 

spencer’s head finds its place on the back wall again. he seemed defeated. tired. but happy. “yeah.”

✰ .ᐟ

two months passed and neither you nor spencer spoke about what happened during courtney’s hide and seek shoot. there's still animosity all around, and you expect that your oscar will be stripped away due to your performance. it’s exhausting, keeping this fucking thing going. you had the one thing you always denied yourself, for just a moment, and that’s all you’ll ever have. you’re well aware of this, and were doing what you could to fully come to terms with it.

but spencer. he seemed so unbothered. like it was nothing to him, like you were nothing to him, like this was all just an elaborate prank. cut the fucking cameras.

tell me to stop, y/n. please. 

christ. your alarm had been turned off five minutes ago, but you remained in bed, under the covers. showing up at work was never a thing you dreaded. you fucking loved your job. and all your coworkers, who were now your friends and your family. you even loved the fans, deranged as they are.

but these days, it was weighing on you. getting up, going in and pretending you don’t know the taste and rhythm of spencer agnew’s sinful fucking mouth. it was hell. you wanted more, and he wanted nothing to do with you. and maybe you should have expected that. maybe this was all on you, for getting your hopes up for even a moment. 

you’re in charge, y/n. you always have been.

you pulled yourself out of bed and into the shower. you turned the water as hot as it could go, grateful to experience a different kind of pain for even a few minutes.

i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.

once your skin had been sufficiently burned, and your actual shower duties were complete, you decided to dress a little nicer today. even though you knew the only plan you had was answering emails, editing scripts, and some social media stuff. 

the shower really helped. the day seemed different, brighter. you felt a little less trepidation about work. you weren’t sure what magic was doled out by your rinky dink shower head, but you were thankful for it all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

pretty much every cast member greeted you at the door. suddenly, that trepidation was back. “what’s going on?” 

“did you not check your phone?” shayne asked, a laugh tumbling out of him.

you thought about it. you hadn’t, actually. you turned your alarm off, showered in silence for the first time in a long time, then drove to work in silence as well. “i guess not. why? is everything okay?” 

angela let out a gleeful scream. “you and spencer have the fandom in a tizzy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy.

your brain went all fuzzy. “me and… spencer?” your mind drifted back to the kiss, and you felt the heat rising on your face. that was embarrassing. everyone was here, and they were all looking at you, and you knew that your blush was violently visible. 

“from the hide and seek video!” chanse added, as though there were any other point of reference.

you started to get a bit light-headed, and you sat down. “i’m confused.”

“why?” courtney asks, coming to sit next to you. it seemed everyone could sense your discomfort, so they dissipated, leaving courtney to work their magic.

“why would anyone care about me and spencer?” you asked. in your defense, you hadn’t watched the video. you couldn’t. you didn’t even watch back the single confessional you recorded, just sent it over to andre. you didn’t delete it though. it sat in your camera roll, heavy on your mind, and taunting you every time you opened your photos app.

they laughed, a soft sound, reassuring. “babe, i need you to watch the video.”

you groaned in response, feeling like a petulant child. like you were going to stomp your feet and cry if you didn’t get your way.  “i don’t want to, courtney. i don’t need to see how fucking red was my face was. i don’t need to see how pathetic i look.”

you hadn’t told a single soul what happened in that little attic crawl space. you didn’t want to – it was a blissful secret. it was easier to hold it in, the truth that you kissed him and it felt like flying and dying and living and breathing and everything all at the same exact time. because if you ever admitted that out loud, you think you’d pass away from the sheer amount of love in your voice when you say it. he was turning you into a hopeless romantic, and you’d barely said seven words to the man since he completely ruined your life.

because that’s what he had done, wasn���t it? you were ruined for anyone else. how could you move on, how could you kiss someone else when spencer agnew made alpha centauri appear behind your eyes. a star system, exploding to life. and you knew, somewhere inside, that that was the only time in your life you’d ever be able to feel something like that. you weren’t even sure you’d want to feel it again. it’s been nothing short of agonizing.

“y/n, can i ask you something?” they questioned, ever patient.

“yes.”

“why do you keep denying yourself good things?” her hand was on your thigh, a soft comfort to offset the sting of her question. “please, i'll show you the clip right here, and i’ll be next to you the whole time. if you want me to turn it off, i will. but will you try for me? please?”

you had never struggled with watching the videos you were in. granted, you usually could just focus on someone else in the shot. this was just you, and spencer. courtney would be there in the background, maybe brennan. but mostly it was you and spencer. and if you didn’t look at yourself, you’d look at him. you weren’t sure which was worse, but you agreed. 

“rip the fucking band-aid off already, i beg of you.” 

she let out a small squeal of excitement, opening her phone. you were only mildly surprised to see the clip was already pulled up. 

courtney pressed play on the video, and they handed you the phone. you watched, captivated. you decided to look at yourself. your blush was evident, and once you noticed that, you couldn’t bear to look any longer, so you looked at spencer. he was staring at you, while you stared ahead, giggling at whatever courtney said. his eyes were fixed on your profile, a smile bursting at the seams of his mouth, threatening a chelsea grin. he was smiling. he begged you to stop him, to stop this. spencer begged you not to feed the fire, but you had thrown gasoline right into it.

the thought… excited you.

“oh, hey,” courtney chirped happily, causing you to tear your eyes away from the screen of her phone. she paused the video and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “i’ll leave you to it,” they stood from their chair, pushing it in and giving you a look of hopefulness. you smiled back, halfheartedly.

“hi, spencer.” you murmured, finally meeting his eyes.

“hi, y/n.” he parroted, walking slowly toward you. he seemed hesitant, but… hopeful? maybe you felt the same way. “can i talk to you for a moment?” he gestured to the recently vacated chair on your left, and you nodded. you couldn’t trust yourself to talk at the moment.

he sat down next to you, entirely too casual. he’s slouched in the chair, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “seems like we did a number on a few people, huh?” he started. still too casual. you braced yourself for impact: we still can’t do this, though. we’re not friends. let alone lovers. 

what he actually said, though, hit you harder than 400 asteroids. “you certainly did a fucking number on me.”

“uh, what?” is all you could muster, confused, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

he sat back up, then leaned into your space. again. he likes to do that. normally, you’d feel too caged, too claustrophobic. but for some reason, it felt like a blessing. a near-familiar comfort in this whirlwind you were caught up in. “y/n, do you remember our first date?” 

your defense mechanism, sarcasm, clicked on in your brain. “if you call that a date, i’m embarrassed for you, spencer.” 

“so you do remember it.”

“yes, spencer. i remember when you accosted me at chili’s.”

he laughed, and you know that it’s such a beautiful sound, but it still hurt. “and do you remember what i told you at the end of the night?”

“you said you didn’t know why we were enemies, but that we both knew it needed to stay that way.”

“exactly. y/n, do you know why i refuse to sit next to you in videos? or why i very frequently cut you off when you’re talking? or why we’ve never been the guests on reddit stories together?”

“no,” you breathe out, honest. “no, i don’t know why.”

“it’s because of what happened in that godforsaken hide and seek video. because i knew, given the proximity, i’d do that. i’d stare at you, zoned out of whatever conversation was happening around me. smiling like a fucking idiot.”

you didn’t speak, feeling overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

“i have a cool guy persona that i try quite hard to keep up, and i didn’t want millions of people seeing me, fucking, splayed out like that. all my feelings on display in 4k. since the day you walked in that fucking door, i’ve been forcing myself to hate you, forcing myself to be your ‘enemy’, playing along with this stupid fucking charade we both seemingly crafted out of nowhere. being that close to you, it makes that whole game a lot harder to play.”

“spencer,” you said, attempting to alleviate some pressure. “you don’t have to–”

“i’m serious, y/n. i’m not mad, i’m not even upset. frankly, i’m relieved. it’s out there, people have seen it, and i’m happy about it. i’m tired of this stupid cat and mouse game, y/n. this shit makes me feel like sisyphus. i’m tired of pushing the stupid fake hatred boulder up the mountain. and i think you are, too. i’ve seen it. i’ve felt it.” he whispered the last part, like it was meant just for him. he was thinking about the kiss. reliving it, the tension, the heat, the closeness. his lips on yours, his hands in your hair. he was thinking about it, and he wasn’t thinking it was embarrassing or gross. he didn’t regret it. he didn’t regret you.

you leaned into him, bringing your nose right up to his, face closer than need be for a conversation between two people who claim to hate each other. “tell me to stop, spencer,” you tried.

he looked at you, eyes wide and shining again. his gaze flickered down to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “fuck it,” he stated, and then his lips were on you. 

you were once again kissing spencer agnew, and you were once again doing it at the fucking office. but you didn’t care about that, couldn’t care about that, because he was kissing you, and this time it was different. it wasn’t nearly as clumsy, or aggressive. the angle was perfect, and his hand was resting on the back of your neck, a soft cradle. your brain didn’t need to time to load, or reboot, and for once it didn’t even blue screen. you immediately kissed spencer back, with more fervor than you thought you had in you.

a small moan slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t care about that either. you knew your coworkers were probably watching you both from around the corner, phones out to record the momentous occasion, hushes being thrown at others who dared to speak. 

but right now, the only thing you cared about was making sure spencer knew you weren’t going to play this fucking godawful game anymore. you kissed him like you were serious about it, because you were. you were serious about spencer agnew. as serious as a heart attack, which you felt like you were on the verge of.

you attempted to pull back for a moment, but spencer wouldn’t let you go. he’s starving, and you are a delicacy he intends to gorge himself on, gluttonous. you gave in, and continued to kiss him back. it’s the most blissful feeling, reciprocation.

no more games. no more lies. no more feuds.

no more enemies, or hatred.

some things in life are universal truths. the grass is green, the sky is blue, and you and spencer agnew loved each other. you always had, and both of you were equally tired of pretending otherwise. pushing back against the universe was always a losing game. 

so you both gave in.

and it was heavenly.

“please, y/n,” spencer pined, pulling back but still staying close. “don’t make me wait another two months to do that again.”

a laugh surged out of you, loud and honest. “have you been thinking about doing it again?”

“constantly. it’s a problem.”

you bit your bottom lip, unsure of how you got here. “oh my god,” you put your head in your hands, remembering your first tweet from you posted that. “i’m sorry i threatened to piss in your kickstart.”

this time, spencer was the one who laughed. hard and loud, honest, just like you, a moment ago. like you were still doing, because hearing spencer laugh made you laugh. a contagious happiness pouring from his lips, filling your very atoms.

“it’s okay, i understand. i wanted to piss in your lattes.” he set his forehead against yours, a form of intimacy he seemed to love. just like two months ago, he was invading your space and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“i’m sorry it took so long to get my head out of my ass,” he spilled, remorse heavy in his voice. “to think we could have been doing this so long ago…” his sentence faded away, and you couldn’t help but smile even harder.

“hey, my head was also up my ass. it’s okay. we have time.”

“yeah, we do.”

✰ .ᐟ

the remainder of the week went off without incident. you told ian you would fill out any and all paperwork, but not until you and spencer were ready. not until he formally asked you to be his girlfriend. it was still the very early days, and while you were beyond happy, you didn’t want to jinx it. watching this love grow was a privilege, not a right, and you intended to keep it. 

you both graced the infamous white reddit stories couch, the episode themed around coworker drama. it was nice to be able to laugh with him openly, and it was nice to hear his thoughts on the stories. spencer was incredibly well articulated when he wanted to be, and it was incredibly sexy to watch him be so emotionally mature and vulnerable. he was more understanding than you would have ever expected, and it only made you want him more.

you hadn’t had a real, formal date yet. that was tonight, once shooting wrapped. he refused to tell you anything about it, just insisted you dress comfortably.

and you were comfortable, here on this couch, with spencer. you both had to be reminded not to sit so close together, several times now. shayne and courtney ragged on you a bit, but they promised to give you tips on hiding the relationship if that was what you chose to do. that was a conversation for another time, but it was nice to know everyone at smosh would always be in your corner.

you pulled yourself out of your head to concentrate on shayne’s voice, and you even threw in a few comments mid-narration. you didn’t like doing that often, it felt rude to interrupt. but hearing spencer break out in a fit of giggles at a shitty joke you made only pushed you to be more confident. 

✰ .ᐟ

“where the fuck are going, spencer?” you questioned for approximately the fifteenth time. once shooting had wrapped, everyone bid you and spencer farewell and good luck on your first official date. you went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and an old hoodie, and when you reappeared spencer was holding a blindfold in his hand.

without thinking, you had popped the first joke that came into your head. “oh, we’re already getting freaky?”

he had laughed, and insisted it wasn’t anything like that. “but it can be, eventually.” he raised an eyebrow, suggestive and suave.

well, fuck.

as spencer directed you through the office – presumably to take you to one of the stages? – you let the lack of sight relax you. he wanted to surprise you, which means that he planned something. or set something up. you were rapidly falling in love with this man, and you weren’t sure if that was scary or exciting. probably both. you were free falling out of a fucking airplane, the cords on your parachute stuck, but it felt good. 

“okay, you can remove your blindfold,” you heard his voice from behind you, as he finally brought you to a stop.

you slowly reached up to pull the blindfold off, and you couldn’t stop the tears that started to form.

spencer had set up a place for you to record music. he had moved a bunch of props and furniture around on the games stage, and set up a tiny little nook with pillows and blankets and bean bags. somehow, your guitar was there, propped next to an amp. there were several pedals splayed out, a wide array of effects for you to choose from. it was all hooked up to your macbook, which had fl studio pulled up on it.

“spencer…” you whined. the tears were silent, but they fell in waves. 

he moved to stand in front of you, and you knew you would never get tired of being able to be this close to him whenever you wanted. he was yours to hold. 

you tried to stop the tears, tried to speak, tried to thank him and apologize. all you could do was let the small, silent sobs wrack your body. 

“y/n, please please tell me that these are happy tears,” spencer pleaded with you. his hand wiping a tear away from your cheek.

you nodded furiously, and found your voice again. “y-yes. yes. they are happy tears.” you took a deep breath in, stinging in the best way. “thank you so fucking much, spencer. i don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“i know that you write music, but i know you never record it. i didn’t know if that was because you were worried about it not being good enough, or if it was simply the inability to record. either way, i can keep all of this set up here for you. whenever you want, as long as the stage isn’t needed, of course. i was hoping we could have a little jam sesh.” spencer laughed, light and airy.

you surged forward, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. “thank you,” you said again.

✰ .ᐟ

you and spencer spent three hours holed up on the games stage, playing around with different effects pedals and different fl studio presets. the time flew by, and you hadn’t even actually recorded anything, but you didn’t need to. you’d remember every second of this night for the rest of your life. you didn’t show spencer any of the songs you’d written these past few weeks, all of them about him. you would one day, when you were ready, but right now all you wanted was to be in this moment with him.

“it’s crazy how far we’ve come in such little time,” spencer said quietly, once the instruments had been retired and you were both stretched out on the extra large bean bag.

you smiled, agreeing. “yeah. it sucks that we lost out on so much time, but i’m grateful that i get to have you at all.” it was more vulnerable than you had meant to be, but spencer didn’t let it linger in the air too long.

“you have me for as long as you want, babe. i’m not leaving until you kick me out.”

a soft laugh, “i can’t imagine a world where i’d ever kick you out, spencer.”

“it’s like i told you. you’re the one in charge, y/n. i’ll follow your lead wherever it takes me.”

“even if it takes you off a cliff?” you japed, adding some levity to this conversation you weren’t quite ready for.

“yes,” spencer replied, no hesitation or thought. “wherever you go, i’d like to be with you. if you’d have me.” 

you turned fully onto your side so you could look at him again. his hair had gotten so long, and you were hoping he wouldn’t cut it yet. you liked how wild and windswept it looked at this length. you also wanted to pull it.

“what are you saying, spencer?” you were egging him on.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n? we can go as slow or as fast as you’d like, we can do it all at your pace. we have time,” he assured you. “i know this is only our first date, and normally this might seem like jumping the gun a little bit.” spencer sighed, but it was wistful, not sad. “but i’ve been sure about you for years now, and now that you’re finally giving me the chance, i don’t want to wait. i don’t want it to slip out of my hands.”

you let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding. this side of spencer – no, just spencer – you were so unaware of him and everything he had the capacity to be and do and feel just a few months ago. sure, you’d been pining for awhile, and you’d been watching him for a bit. not in a creepy way, just observing him when he wasn’t putting up the goddamn shield he always forced up around you. seeing spencer for who he was, as he was. you had no idea that he could be so eloquent, so romantic, so fucking perfect.

“christ, you’re going to kill me, charles spencer agnew.”

“is that a yes, y/n? don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already!” spencer laughed again, and you realized just how often you made him laugh. almost like your specific brand of comedy was tailor made for him. maybe it was. 

“yes, spencer, i will be your girlfriend.” you smiled at him, a toothy. unabashed grin. “thank you for this.” you gestured around the nook. “seriously, this is so fucking sweet of you. i really, truly appreciate it.” most people didn’t put so much effort into the first date. this would, normally, be a fifth date kind of thing, probably. not that you had much practice. but it was your first real date, and spencer did all this work just to spend a few hours making shitty hyperpop mixes out of the silliest guitar sounds you could manage.

“don’t get used to it, this was a lot of work.”

your smile dropped instantly, a cold rush hitting you. fuck, was he making fun of you? you felt tears well up again, this time decidedly unhappy tears.

spencer shot up in an instant. “hey, hey. it’s okay, love. can i touch you?”

you cried harder, realizing that not only was spencer not making fun of you, but that he was listening. he always was, he always had been. because he knew not to touch you when you were crying, he knew to ask. and you had never told him that.

you had said it in a reddit stories video once. the story had to do with panic attacks, and you felt like you had to give your two cents, daring to be vulnerable on beyoncé’s internet.

“i actually hate being touched when i’m upset. people always jump straight to hugging me or patting my head or some shit. bro, i’m fucking freaking out, please do not touch me!” 

courtney laughed, agreeing with your sentiment. “no, exactly! like, i’m crying all over myself and i’m snotty and gross. please get your hands off me. you can clearly see i’m overwhelmed, why is your first thought to add to that?” 

it was refreshing to be understood by someone. 

“i have never once seen someone in emotional distress and thought, ‘hmm, i should hug them super tight! that’ll help!’ like, what the fuck are we doing, guys? however, i do remember one time i started having a panic attack, and my friend looked at me and held her hands up, then asked ‘can i touch you?’ which, like, just broke me out of it. i was so thankful that she asked to touch me instead of just doing it that i was immediately calmed down. she’s great.”

the emotions were a sudden flood, and you shook your head no. spencer sat still in his spot, respecting your decision. for some reason, this only prompted you to cry harder.

basic respect had you sobbing. this was fucking embarrassing. 

“i’m so sorry,” you said through tears, trying to explain yourself.

spencer was patient, and you knew he would wait for you to collect yourself. it was a small gesture but it really did mean the world to you. this meant not only did he listen to you when you were talking on set, but also that he watches the videos that you’re in. he wasn’t on that shoot, he had a con to go to. he wasn’t even in the state of california when you had said that. you had said that nearly a year ago, and he had watched the video when it came out. then committed that piece of you to memory.

“spencer?” you let out softly. “i have a question.”

your voice was small, almost upsettingly so. you didn’t mean to sound so timid, but projecting your voice when you’re feeling this many emotions was something you could only do in front of a camera or a live audience.

“yes?”

“how long have you known that you didn't… y’know. hate me?” you sighed, glad to have the weight of the question off of your shoulders, but worried about how heavy the answer might weigh on you. 

“i never hated you. i never even disliked you, y/n. i thought you were smart enough to figure that out.”

“are you negging me, babe?” you asked him, trying out the pet name. it felt nice, especially because you meant it. and because this time, you knew he wasn't being mean. he was just being spencer.

once again, spencer’s laugh graced your eardrums, and you knew you’d never tire of the way it made you feel. unstoppable. like if you could make spencer agnew laugh like this, you could do anything in the world. maybe even be brave.

“can i show you something that i've been working on?” you asked, your eyes trailing up to meet his, which were already fixated on you. as always. 

“of course.”

you grabbed your guitar, turning ever so slightly to the side. you didn't want to hide, but you also didn't want to be on full display. spencer understood your movement immediately; he looked down at his hands for a moment, silently reassuring you that it was okay, that you were safe.

it was refreshing to be understood by someone.

you plucked the chords you had burned into your brain at this point. you had written this song the evening of the hide and seek incident (trademark pending).

you let your eyes fall shut, playing from memory, as easy as 1-2-3. as you began the first verse, you dared to glance at spencer. he was looking at you, but through his periphery. still trying to give you that space, but unable to deny himself. it made you burn bright with pure, radiant joy. 

you glided into the chorus, your eyes fully open at this point. spencer had long since abandoned his resolve, and he was watching you intently. instead of being scared, or nervous, or overwhelmed, you just felt seen.

in every sense, you felt seen. he was looking at you, into you, and not through you. he was seeing your heart on your sleeve, stitched permanently on every cardigan you owned. he was seeing all of your emotions, all the anger, all the sadness. and he understood your emotions, because he had felt them, too. he had gone through it all, too.

how lucky you were, to be loved by someone so observant. and maybe it wasn't love yet, but you knew the potential was there. you knew, as you finished up the bridge and moved on to the outro, that the seed had been planted. you would be sure to water it diligently.

“can i kiss you?” spencer blurted out, as soon as the final note finished ringing out in the otherwise silent stage.

“always.” you met spencer halfway, another crashing, aching kiss. his hands immediately found your hair, as they always did. your arms fell around his shoulders, a loose hold. 

after a moment the kiss was less crashing and danger and speed, slowing naturally to a sensual pace. lightly pulling and pushing, his hands now gripping your hips. not angry, not painful. it was a tight grip, but it wasn't mean. it felt scared, almost, like if spencer didn't hold on to you, you’d be gone. 

you think you liked that feeling. the feeling that your partner wanted you all the time. 

you spent another hour lazily kissing, and ended up falling into a blissful sleep.

✰ .ᐟ

you woke up about an hour after you had crashed. you hadn't meant to, you were just so fucking relaxed and happy. with the way your sleep had been, you weren’t going to turn down a nap. 

spencer mumbled something, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the fact you were still in the office. you groaned, unintentionally.

“you okay, y/n?” your boyfriend – you loved that – asked, his voice soft and scratchy from the nap.

you smiled down at him. “yeah, sorry. i just realized we've only ever kissed at the office.”

you watched in amusement as the cogs turned in his head. “oh, jeez. well, that’s just unacceptable. hey, apropos of nothing, i'm out of kickstart. do you want to run to the corner store with me?” 

spencer held out a hand, as if to say ‘join me on this adventure?’ and you weren’t sure how you could decline his offer. 

♡

[andreilslovechild]

Aaron and Nicky

Okay so I vaguely discussed this on my previous post about Aaron and hatred, but I needed to say more on the topic bc it kinda just recently popped up in my head again and it's just...ugh so good.

When Aaron moved to SC, he was 13, and Nicky was like 17ish. So, depending on what year he was in, he would have been either in his junior or senior year of high school. Assuming he was in his senior year, Aaron would have only had around, let's say... around 7-8 months with him assuming they moved during the summer.

Aaron would probably have talked to Nicky a few times a year before this. Maybe once every month or two when Luther talked to Tilda, but not really anything special. They probably saw each other a few times for holidays when Luther would pay for their plane tickets. You know the classic long-distance cousins. You don't talk much, but you still know things about each other.

Then, once Aaron moved to SC after finding out about Andrew, he would have been reeling from that discovery, alone, and in a new city he'd probably only been in once or twice before. And even then, he'd probably only been to nickys house, church, and back again. So he would have clung to whatever familiarity he could find.

Him and Nicky would hang out or talk on the phone when Tilda was too high to care, and Aaron used him as an excuse to get out of the house and away from her heavy hands and the crushing silence that echoed in the new house that was already falling apart. He would have picked up on the type of language older kids used, even kids his own age really, would have tried to fit in by using it, and at the time homophobic or vaguely offensive language would have been the norm. Aaron himself may not have used them against Nicky specifically, but Nicky would have heard Aaron using things like "fag" or "gay" as an insult.

Whether Aaron knew Nicky was gay is up for debate, but it's probably likely he knew that Nicky had "strayed from the path of god" or so Luther would have put it. He'd probably heard about the conversion camp in passing, though he likely didn't know what it really was. I think it was mentioned too that Nicky tried to act straight after his experience at conversion camp somewhere in the EC, so Aaron was probably under the impression that Nicky was "cured" like Luther and Maria were.

But long story short, during those 7-8 months, nicky was Aaron's closest friend. I doubt Aaron was very social, so even after school started, he probably didn't make friends that easily, so he hung out with nicky most days, and they did their homework together or whatever. Very sibling like. I think Nicky was the one to convince Aaron to reach out to Andrew against Tilda wishes, and probably the one to comfort him when he recieved a big fuck you back. He was the closest thing Aaron had to real family.

He probably noticed nicky wasn't as happy as he liked to seem, but he was a kid and the most he could do about it was spend lots of time with him and try and get him to genuinely smile now and then.

And then there was the Germany trip.

Aaron wasn't happy Nicky was going on the trip, and Nicky was probably a bit guilty for leaving Aaron behind, but Aaron wouldn't have stopped him from going when Nicky so clearly wanted to. He thought it'd be 5 months or so, and then he'd be back. Just 5 months of crushing loneliness, and he'd have his cousin back.

I think Aaron started using properly for the first time while Nicky was gone on that exchange trip. He'd used a few times here and there before, but not regularly. And certainly not enough to crave them. But with nicky gone, he didn't have any other way to escape. He told himself he'd stop when Nicky came back, except Nicky didn't come back. Not really. He was back for maybe 2 weeks total to officially graduate and pack up his things, and then he was back to Germany because he'd found some perfect gay lovestory there. So he kept using.

I think Aaron resented Nicky leaving him for a long time. He left him alone to suffer his mother and their crazy family by himself. He may not actively realize it, but it also makes him resent nickys sexuality a bit too because if Nicky wasn't gay this wouldn't have happened, and he'd never have left him.

Then three years has come and gone, and andrew is there, Aaron's no longer alone, but Tilda dead. And then Nicky comes back to take care of them. Fights for them. Makes sure they stay with him. And he's nothing like the Nicky Aaron remembers. Well, he kind of is, but not really. He's more flamboyant and bubbly and waaay to talkative and sexual and Aaron isn't sure what to do about it. The first few times were an accident, tired and hurt, and going through withdrawal as he screamed insults at the locked bathroom door. He heard nickys voice and begged him to let him out and then insulted him when he didn't.

But he also notices afterward how they make nickys smile turn a little bit tight. And then the insults become a test. A way to push even more to see if Nicky would break. If he would hit and scream like Tilda or glare and use the stick like Luther. But he didn't. Not even a little bit. Not even once. And slowly, Aaron forgets that that's what the words were supposed to be. He just uses them casually, the insults at the tip of his tongue whenever nicky does something he can comment on. It just becomes normal. And he sees the way nicky brushes them off, but not really. He can see through the mask. But he just can't stop.

It takes years of practice and therapy and more than a few seriously uncomfortable conversations for Aaron to properly get his tongue under control. But he tries. And trying is enough for nicky when it comes to them. After all, nicky had dealt with Andrew, too, who was arguably worse in some ways.

Nicky and Aaron's relationship is infinitely complicated in so many ways. They went from distant family to friends, to strangers, guardians, and children, to finally being just cousins. It takes a long time and probably isn't until after both of them have graduated and Nicky is back in Germany, but they get there in the end, and that's the important part.

(Credit to creamka_ on ig for the art love them)

[aliwritex]

DO I WANNA KNOW? pt2 fc43

summary: franco realizes he wants more.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: 18+, pinv, oral, fingering and everything, L word obv. i did not read this through very well

Franco was acting different, you knew that, all your friends knew too. The thing was that they knew why but wouldn’t tell you. You tried making your friend talk multiple times but she would budge, you were starting to think it was something bad. Maybe he wanted to end your little arrangement and didn’t know how to, maybe you had done something wrong or maybe he just wasn’t into you anymore.

You started to keep your distance, you didn’t want him to be forced to hang out with you and maybe if you eased out of your situationship then there wouldn’t have to be an actual conversation or ‘breakup’.

And as far as situationships go, you were driving each other insane. All your friends were watching closely, it was funny really. You both thought they didn’t know about you but they had found out the same night when you ended up sleeping in the guest room before he snuck out in the morning. The – not so – subtle questions you’d ask only gave them more insight of what you two had going on. Questions like “Is she seeing someone?” or “do you think he’s been acting weird?” were being thrown and discussed in a group chat without you two.

On one side Franco had just started to feel confident enough in your relationship to confess, tell you that he wanted more. But it was making him nervous. On the other side, you were completely misreading his nervousness as something else, like he wasn’t enjoying being with you. In your defense he had gone soft on you twice because of his overthinking.

“I know we talked about you coming over tomorrow but turns out I have plans” you lied as he came back from the bathroom.

“Oh? Okay.” he tried to understand but didn’t miss the weird way you brought it up “Can I still sleep over, though? Don’t wanna drive back home. Tired”

Franco left the next morning and you didn’t talk that weekend or the week after that. And the next time the group got together you said you couldn’t make it, you would be studying for a test – which was true – but that night Franco took the opportunity to talk to your friend.

“Tina, do you think she has been acting different lately?”

“Oh, god, you will drive each other insane.” she said, taking a sip of her drink “We know you’ve got something going on so please just tell me so I can help”

So there he was, sitting in a booth in the club boring Tina to death as he told her everything he deemed important about your relationship.

“Look,” she spoke when he finished, “from what I’ve gathered, she thinks you’re not into her anymore and to be fair I’m guessing you’re the guy that went soft on her twice.”

“She told you? I was- I don’t have to explain myself to you” he realized.

“Didn’t ask you to. Franco, the point is, I think she’s really into you and you should do something about it because she’s trying to push you away”

“How could she possibly think I’m not into her? I’ve been throwing myself at her for over a year!” he was genuinely surprised and couldn’t understand how you came to that conclusion.

“Then maybe keep doing it, okay? She says you’ve been acting different, I get it that you’re nervous about telling her but you can’t let that affect your performance, darling, apparently that’s all your relationship is based on”

“I hate you. Why would she tell you that?” he whined “She won’t really talk to me, she’s making excuses and avoiding my texts.” his explanation comes out as a sigh.

“Bother her a little more, show up to her house, she’ll give in eventually.” she shrugged, getting up from her seat.

Franco left the club earlier that night and texted you before getting in his car. “you still awake?”

You rolled your eyes at the text, yes you were still awake at one in the morning, but it was because you were busy. “i’m studying franco” “not a good time.”

He only read your text, didn’t say anything else because he was driving. Driving to your place but not without a quick stop to a 24 hour grocery store. He knew that if you had been deep into your studies to be up that late you deserved some good snacks and just as he was leaving he saw some mediocre flowers, they would have to do, so he picked a small colorful bouquet – he didn’t know your favorite color but it was surely amongst them.

He didn’t text or call cause you would tell him no, so he just showed up at your door and knocked. You knew immediately it was him.

“Fran, I said I’m bu-“ your mouth stopped moving when you saw him with a grocery bag and the flowers in his hand. Franco froze, he forgot to think of what to say. “I told you I was busy”

After a couple of seconds – that felt way too long for him – staring at you he finally spoke, “I thought you might be needing some rewards, for studying so hard” he lifted up the bag, showing it to you.

You stood in front of him, your head rested against the door, watching him smile a little when he realized you were wearing his shirt. “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, never. Guess if I forgot it wasn’t that important in the first place.” he paused for a second, still looking at you “I got you these” he lifted the flowers “figured the ones you had last time I was here would be dead by now. I realized I don’t know your favorite color, or what flowers you like, think I was too busy looking at something else other than your flowers. I guessed you had to like at least one flower or one color from this one.”

“Fran, what is this about?”

“I wante- Can I come in?” he asked nervously.

You moved out of the doorway to let him through, smiling to yourself as you realized you were completely wrong. He put the things down on the table by your door as you locked it and when you turned back your arms wrapped around his neck, as you kissed.

His hands came down to your waist and he was slightly surprised at your sudden action, but melted into the kiss. “Missed me?”

“A little” you confessed, pulling away from him and walking to your bedroom.

You heard him follow right behind you, reaching for your hand when you walked in. Your lips met again but this time his hands guide your legs and guide them to wrap around his hips as he walks to the bed. He placed you where he wanted, right in the middle with your back against the pillows, your legs naturally spreading for him to settle between. He knelt up for a second, grabbing the stuffed animals around you and throwing them on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“You know I don’t like them here”

He smiled and bent down to kiss you. His hands sneaked up your hips to your waist, under your shirt. Yours ran around his neck, nails against the sensitive skin, knowing it would turn him on. His lips lowered to your jaw, making you let out a sigh, relaxing all your muscles after being tense in a desk all day. He let his hips meet yours, grinding slightly against yours as his mouth started working on your neck, sucking and kissing all the spots he knew. His hands then lowered to the band of your shorts and tugged them down till he had to pull away from you to slip them off your legs.

“You look good in my clothes, should leave them around here more often” he smiled, making you blush as he positioned himself between your legs, laying on your bed.

Your hand reached out to caress his cheek, he smiled against the skin of your thigh before kissing it. He started leaving open mouthed kisses all over, your thighs, your lower stomach and over your panties, making you shiver when you felt his lips brushing against your cunt, only your thin underwear separating you. But not for long, once he felt like he had teased you enough his fingers hooked on the sides of your panties and slowly dragged them down, then he was facing your bare cunt, wet and ready for him.

Franco licked his lips at the sight before sticking his tongue out to spread your lips apart. He moaned when your taste hit his tongue, he had missed it. Once he started he was unstoppable, licking into you till his tongue and lips were covered in your wetness. Your hands dropped to grab his head when he took your clit into his mouth. His fingers joined the combo, slowly making their way inside you before gently curling up, he was making a mess out of you. Moans started leaving your mouth as he worked on you. His free hand made its way inside your shirt, reaching up to palm your tit. Your back arched onto his touch immediately, making your hips shift slightly and his fingers reach the perfect spot inside you.

“Fran” you whined, grasping his hair harder.

He just fucked his fingers harder into you, making you see stars and clench around them, By that point he knew you were close, just a couple more thrusts right to your gspot and you’d be gone. You felt your walls tightening as he started sucking harder on your clit, your muscles tensing and your legs trying to close around his head till he pushed you over the edge, making you cum around his fingers. Franco kept working you through your orgasm, his movements slowing till they came to a stop. You were biting a smile back as he kissed your thighs and your stomach, making his way up your body.

Your lips met again in an intense kiss, as you reached down to unbutton his jeans. He chuckled against your lips at your desperateness but helped you kick them off and knelt up for a second just to pull off his shirt. When he bent over your body again you flipped over him, straddling his legs as he looked up at you, surprised. You took his lips back to yours, kissing down his face to his neck as your hand reached down to rub his cock through his underwear. As small as the touch was it made him sigh, almost moan.

“Guess you missed me too” you teased before pulling him out of his underwear.

It was only a few pumps of your hand before raspy and shaky moans were making their way past his lips, “please” he whined.

You took a condom from your nightstand, making quick work of getting it on him. His lips were parted and his brows were just as expressive as always, furrowed together as you guided his cock between your lips, sliding yourself back and forth onto him just to tease. A struggling moan left his lips as his hands dropped to your hips, lifting you up so you could guide him inside. You lost all composure when he slipped into you, it felt like those couple of days without him had been so much more and like he was fucking you for the first time again.

His hands started guiding your hips slowly, letting you both get used to the feeling as you pulled him into another kiss. Your hands rested on his chest as you started moving faster, your hips now moving in circles, making your clit rub against his skin. He could feel your thighs flexing under his hands as you moved but what he couldn’t take his eyes off of was your face when you pulled away. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, soft moans still escaping your throat, your eyes were screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on making yourself feel good.

All it took for your high to wash over you was the gentle touch of his fingers to your clit and you were coming for him, clenching around his cock as your hips stilled on top of his. He waited a second before guiding you to move again. You knew he was close too, his body was giving you all the signs and his face was twisted in pleasure, just a little more and he would be there. You reached out for his face, making his eyes open after you kissed. Franco stared into your eyes for a second, eyes open as he came. He kissed your thumb that brushed his lip and spoke in a soft whisper “I’m in love with you”

You smiled, bending over to kiss him “I figured,” you said with a chuckle. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pulled you down to kiss him, both breaking into smiles as your lips met, “and I’m in love with you too”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer till you were rolling on your sides, still connected and kissing. Franco only pulled out when you groaned into his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to unwrap his arms around you.

“I bought ice cream, you know” he whispered after a while “do you think it’s melted yet?”

“I think you should go find out” you whispered back “you were the one that said I needed a reward for studying so hard.” he scoffed and nodded on your shoulder but when he tried to pull away you held him back “No, stay. I don’t mind melted ice cream, I actually like it better.”

[callmemonster68]

SUNOO - Beyond Appearances ( smut )

You always thought Sunoo was just your gay friend—sweet, trustworthy, harmless. But after a little accident in the bathroom, he started acting different...

Pairing: Sunoo X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises

Y/N and Sunoo have always been inseparable. He was that friend who broke into your house without warning, stole food from your fridge and threw himself into your bed without ceremony. Your conversations ranged from gossip about each other to spicy details about your crushes – well, your crushes, since Sunoo never seemed very interested in anyone.

Y/N: Don't you have a type? (he asked, throwing a grape in his mouth while the two watched a reality show)

Sunoo: Oh, I don't know. Not a guy interests me that much. (he responded with a shrug, without even taking his eyes off the screen)

For Y/N, this only confirmed what she always knew: Sunoo was gay. After all, he loved skincare, danced to TikTok videos better than anyone and knew how to combine colors like no one else. And, of course, he had never shown interest in any girl.

You were so intimate that he would enter the bathroom while you were brushing your teeth, going through your clothes to help you choose a look and even giving you his opinion on your new lingerie.

Sunoo: This one screams "eat me now" (he said it once, holding up a lacy red ensemble)

Y/N: Exactly what I want it to scream. (replied with a mischievous smile)

They both laughed, as always. No tension, no ulterior motives. Because for Y/N, Sunoo was safe.

Until one day, something changed.

It was a day like any other. Y/N had just gotten out of the shower, the towel stuck to her body as she looked in the mirror, playing with her damp strands.

That's when Sunoo entered the bathroom without warning. As he always did.

Sunoo: Hey, did you see my…

The towel slipped off the instant the door closed behind him.

Time seemed to stop. Y/N stood completely naked in front of him.

Sunoo froze. His wide-eyed gaze swept over her body in an involuntary reflex before he forced himself to look away, turning around with such haste that he banged his elbow on the door.

Sunoo: M-my God! (voice was shaky, breathing was uneven)

Y/N laughed, pulling the towel back leisurely, completely comfortable.

Y/N: Oh, Sunoo, there's no need to despair (he joked) That doesn't even interest you.

Silence.

She expected him to respond with a mocking comment, something like "of course not, darling" or "please, I've seen better bodies." But he didn't say anything.

Y/N frowned.

Y/N: Sunoo?

He was still on his back, his shoulders tense, his breathing a little too heavy. When he finally turned to face her, there was something different in his dark eyes.

Something that has never been there before.

The bathroom incident should have been just that: an accident. But after that day, Sunoo started acting... strange.

Nothing blatant, nothing too obvious. But Y/N knew him too well not to notice.

Before, he plopped down on the sofa next to her without ceremony. Now, there was a subtle hesitation before sitting down, as if he was too aware of the closeness between the two.

Before, he helped her choose clothes without blinking. Now I avoided looking at her for too long when she asked, "Is that dress too short?"

Before, he joked about his encounters, his experiences, his adventures. Now he was silent when she talked about other guys.

But it was when Y/N started to tease him that the reactions became more interesting.

One night, while packing her clothes to go out, she changed into a skintight dress and turned to him with a mischievous smile.

Y/N: And then? Too vulgar? (he asked, turning on his heel)

It was an old game. Sunoo always gave a sharp comment, sometimes exaggerated, sometimes dramatic.

But this time, instead of rolling his eyes and joking, he blinked slowly, as if he was having a thought he shouldn't have.

Sunoo: It's… beautiful.

The tone of voice was not mocking. It was low. Serious. As if he had forgotten for a second that he was "just a friend."

Y/N raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Y/N: Just pretty?

He licked his lips, looked away, and for a split second he looked uncomfortable.

Sunoo: What do you want me to say? (he retorted) That you look hot?

It was an ironic comment, but the problem wasn't what he said. That's the way he said it.

As if he was thinking about it.

The silence that followed was longer than it should have been.

Sunoo cleared his throat and stood up too quickly.

Sunoo: I'll get some water (he said, disappearing from the room before she could question anything else)

Y/N stood there, feeling the energy in the air.

Something was different.

And she wanted to know exactly what it was.

Y/N noticed the changes in Sunoo, but in her head, there was only one explanation: he must be going through something. Maybe he was confused, maybe he was dealing with insecurities, or maybe… he was discovering himself in a way that she didn't yet understand.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to have some fun.

So he started testing.

Nothing too obvious. Just little teases.

Like when they were watching a movie together, and she decided to lie on his lap instead of the couch. Normally, Sunoo would absentmindedly run his fingers through her hair, comfortable in their intimacy. But this time, he was tense. Hands still, rigid at his sides.

Y/N: You're feeling strangely stuck today. (he joked, looking up)

Sunoo forced a laugh.

Sunoo: I'm just tired.

Liar.

And she started noticing more signs.

The next day, Y/N wore a tight crop top and short shorts while putting on makeup. Sunoo was lying on her bed, on his cell phone, as usual.

Or at least that's what she thought.

When she turned to pick up some lipstick, she caught him looking at the reflection in the mirror.

It was fast. But it was enough.

She smiled, having fun.

Y/N: Help me choose the color? Red or nude?

Sunoo looked away too quickly, picking up the first lipstick without even looking.

Sunoo: Whatever.

Y/N to them.

Y/N: Since when do you have no opinion on makeup?

He pursed his lips.

Sunoo: Since you started interrogating me for everything.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, moving closer and crossing her arms.

Y/N: Are you hiding something from me?

Sunoo: For God's sake, Y/N.

She laughed, tossing the lipstick aside and turning back to the mirror.

She still thought he was gay.

She just didn't realize that he was making everything more and more difficult for him.

Sunoo was acting strange.

Not the way he used to, when he just hesitated or was uncomfortable with some situations. Now, he was actually avoiding Y/N.

The answers were short. Messages took longer to be responded to. When she asked him out, he made excuses.

And Y/N started to feel uncomfortable.

On Wednesday night, she was sitting at a bar, tapping the end of her straw against her glass as she vented to Jake, the only mutual friend they had.

Y/N: He's avoiding me. (she mumbled, throwing her head back)

Jake arched his eyebrow.

Jake: Are you sure?

Y/N: Yes! Before, was acting strange. Now he practically runs away from me!

Jake took a sip of his beer and frowned.

Jake: Did you do something?

Y/N: No! I just... (she stopped, biting her lip) Okay, I kind of started testing him.

Jake: Test?

Y/N: Yes. Like… he was all weird after that day in the bathroom.

Jake: What day in the bathroom?

Y/N sighed and told everything. About how Sunoo had seen her naked by accident, how he reacted differently, and how he had since seemed uncomfortable around her.

Y/N: But he's gay, so it doesn't make sense! (she concluded, exasperated)

Jake was silent for a moment, just looking at her.

And then he asked, calmly:

Jake: Y/N… did he ever say he was gay?

She blinked.

Y/N: What?

Jake: Did he ever tell you that? Or did you just… assume?

She opened her mouth to respond, but no response came.

Because, for the first time, doubt arose.

Y/N always assumed Sunoo was gay. For the cute clothes, for the sharp personality, for the extravagant manner. He never talked about liking women, so she just concluded that he didn't.

But…

She never asked.

Jake laughed softly when he saw her expression change.

Jake: Guess you have some conversations to have, huh?

Y/N spent the next two days mulling over the conversation with Jake.

She tried to recall a time when Sunoo had confirmed that he was gay. Some conversation, some sentence, anything. But all he found were his own conclusions.

And now he was running away from her.

If before she just wanted to tease him for fun, now it was a test by fire.

And she wanted answers.

So, that Friday, she decided to take action.

Sunoo was sitting alone in the college library, concentrating on his notebook, as if he was trying to become invisible. It was ridiculous.

Y/N approached silently, sliding into the chair next to him as if nothing was happening.

Y/N: Hi, missing (he hummed, resting his chin in his hand)

Sunoo tensed his shoulders, but didn't look at her.

Sunoo: Hi.

The coldness in his voice only made Y/N smile even more.

Y/N: Are you avoiding me?

Sunoo: No.

She laughed.

Y/N: So that means if I do this...(she ran her fingers down his arm, very slowly, as if she were distracted) You won't freak out?

Sunoo froze.

And that's when she realized.

He didn't move away.

But he didn't look at her either.

Interesting.

Y/N: It's getting hot in here, right? (she commented innocently, pulling her own coat and leaving her shoulders exposed. Then, she leaned closer, right next to his ear) Or is it just me?

Sunoo took a deep breath.

Sunoo: Y/N…

Y/N: What happened? (she whispered, making her voice purposefully sweet)

He clenched his fists.

Sunoo: You need to stop.

She pulled away a little, blinking her eyes with false innocence.

Y/N: Stop what? We've always been like this, Sunoo. You always let me touch you. Never bothered.

Sunoo finally looked at her.

And it was there, in that dark look filled with something that Y/N still didn't fully understand, that she felt like maybe she was playing with fire.

But did that make her want to stop?

Not at all.

Y/N: Come to my house for dinner today (suggested casually, leaning over to pick up her cell phone on the table, but purposely leaving her cleavage visible for a second longer)

Sunoo looked away so quickly he almost broke his neck.

Sunoo: I can't (he muttered, closing the notebook suddenly)

She laughed, tossing her hair back.

Y/N: Oh, yes you can. You always can. It's going to look weird if you start saying no now.

Sunoo clenched his jaw.

Y/N noticed.

She also noticed when he sighed in defeat and nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

Sunoo: It's OK.

That's how, a few hours later, they were in her apartment. As they have always been so many times before.

But nothing was the same as before.

Sunoo knew this. Y/N knew that.

She prepared a simple dinner as usual. But as he stirred the food in the pan, he made sure to do everything at the slowest pace possible, his hip movements exaggeratedly lazy, knowing that Sunoo was there, sitting at the counter, watching.

He didn't speak. He just stood there, touching his own glass, without looking at her directly.

Y/N smiled to herself.

After dinner, they plopped down on the couch to watch a movie, like they always did. But now she wanted to test it a little more.

So, instead of sitting in the opposite corner like Sunoo clearly wanted, Y/N lay down on the couch, with her head resting on his lap.

It was there that she felt it.

Sunoo's breathing became slower, almost heavy.

He was tense again.

Y/N closed her eyes and sighed.

Y/N: I love that we have this freedom (mumbled) It's so good to have a friend who will never look at me any other way.

Sunoo swallowed.

She noticed.

And smiled.

Y/N: Like, I can lay on your lap like this and it will never mean anything. (she continued, stretching a little more, feeling his body lock under her)

Nothing. He didn't say anything.

She bit her lip.

Y/N: That's why I always knew you were gay (said, without filter) You never looked at me differently. It was never dull. You never bothered with me around.

Now he moved.

Sunoo slid a little on the couch, as if trying to create a distance that simply didn't exist.

Sunoo: I'm going to get water (he said suddenly, pushing her away with a sudden movement and practically fleeing to the kitchen)

Y/N laughed softly.

She was sure now.

And she wasn't going to stop until he broke it completely.

Sunoo didn't return to the sofa.

After getting the water, he stayed in the kitchen for too long, leaning against the sink, with his back to the living room, as if he needed to catch his breath.

Y/N took advantage.

She stood up silently, walking over to him.

Y/N: Sunoo...(called softly, stopping right behind him)

He remained motionless.

She smiled.

Y/N: What happened? (she teased, dragging her fingers down his spine, lightly, only to see his body stiffen) Why are you so nervous lately?

Sunoo: I'm not nervous.

Y/N: No? So look at me.

Silence.

Sunoo didn't turn around.

And Y/N took advantage of that.

She moved even closer, pressing her body to his, her arms slipping around his waist as if it were something innocent.

Y/N: You look weird, you know that? (she whispered close to his ear) Before, you didn't care about anything I did. Now it seems like he can barely stand near me.

She felt him hold his breath.

Y/N: Why are you running away?

Nothing.

Sunoo looked like a statue, holding onto the counter as if his life depended on it.

Y/N smiled against his skin and raised her hands a little higher, running her fingers over the lower part of her belly.

Y/N: That doesn't interest you, remember? (she whispered, cruelly reminding him of what she had said that day in the bathroom)

And that's when it happened.

Too fast.

Too brutal.

Sunoo suddenly turned around, catching her by surprise, holding her by the wrists and pinning her against the kitchen counter.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat.

His eyes were different.

Dark.

Sunoo: Stop (he growled, but his voice sounded anything but firm)

Y/N looked at him, at his heavy breathing, at the grip on his wrists.

And then she smiled, mischievously.

Y/N: Or what?

Sunoo closed his eyes tightly, as if he was fighting an internal war.

Y/N licked her lips.

She didn't know if he would finally give in or if he would run again.

But now, anyway…

She knew he wanted it.

Sunoo was still holding her wrists. Strong but hesitant.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on hers as if trying to find a way out.

Y/N noticed this.

And he decided he wouldn't let him get away.

Y/N: What happened? (she whispered, her voice oozing venom and sweetness at the same time)

Sunoo didn't respond.

Then she leaned in a little more, touching her nose to his chin, feeling his warm breath against her skin.

Y/N: You're holding me like you're going to do something (he continued, his eyes shining with provocation) But I know you won't.

His grip faltered for a second.

And that's when Y/N decided to end him once and for all.

She moved her hips slightly, the touch almost imperceptible, but enough for him to feel it.

Sunoo held her breath.

She smiled.

Y/N: None of that interests you, right?

It was the last straw.

In an instant, he let go of her wrists.

In the next second, he grabbed her waist and pushed her sharply, placing her against the kitchen counter.

Y/N barely had time to react.

Sunoo moved closer to her even closer, his fingers digging into her skin, and when he looked at her this time, there was no more hesitation.

Sunoo: Shut up.

His voice sounded hoarser than ever, as if he had ripped something inside him.

Y/N's eyes lit up.

She licked her lips, sliding her hands slowly down his chest, feeling every tense muscle beneath her fingers.

Y/N: Are you going to shut me up? (provoked, defiant)

Sunoo took a deep breath, holding her face with both hands.

Y/N felt his breath tremble against her mouth.

And then…

He gave in.

The kiss was fierce.

Hunger contained. Anger. Lust. Everything mixed into a burning contact.

Y/N grabbed his hair, pulling hard, and that's how it felt: the shiver running through Sunoo's body, the muffled moan against his lips, the way he gave himself as if he were hungry.

He was lost.

And she finally got what she wanted.

But now…

Now, she wanted more.

The kiss was still burning on Y/N's lips when Sunoo pulled away abruptly, her eyes wide as if she had just committed a crime.

Sunoo: Shit... (he whispered, putting a hand to his mouth, as if to erase what just happened)

Y/N watched as he took a step back.

And I knew right away that he was going to run away.

But this time, she wasn't going to let him.

Before he could move any further, Y/N grabbed his wrist and pulled him back closer, forcing him to face her.

Y/N: Where do you think you're going? (he asked, his voice calm but sharp)

Sunoo swallowed hard, looking away.

Sunoo: That was a mistake… (mumbled)

Y/N laughed, sarcastically.

Y/N: A mistake? So tell me why you're shaking.

He didn't respond.

She tightened her grip on his wrist.

Y/N: Answer me, Sunoo.

He closed his eyes tightly, his shoulders tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Sunoo: I don't... I can't do this to you.

Y/N: Do what? Want me?

He clenched his jaw.

Y/N: Don't you want me?

Silence.

Sunoo didn't deny it.

And Y/N noticed.

She let out a low laugh, pulling him even closer, so close that she felt his breath hitch against her face.

Y/N: So tell me, Sunoo… Why did you let me believe all this time that you were gay?

He remained motionless.

His dark eyes, full of guilt and something else he was trying to hide.

Y/N: Say.

He closed his hands into fists.

Sunoo: Because it was easier that way.

Y/N frowned.

Y/N: What do you mean?

Sunoo took a deep breath, her lips trembling before finally releasing the words:

Sunoo: Because I always wanted you. From the beginning.

Y/N felt her heart race.

But Sunoo didn't stop.

Sunoo: But I knew I would never have a chance. You always saw me as your gay friend, your harmless best friend. If I tried anything, you would push me away. So I let you believe that.

The confession fell heavily between the two.

Sunoo looked exhausted, as if he had just been stripped of a secret that had been consuming him for years.

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a wave of excitement and adrenaline course through her body.

Y/N: And now? (she whispered)

Sunoo looked up.

His eyes were wild, but still filled with fear.

Sunoo: Now... (he murmured, his voice hoarse) I can't stop anymore.

Y/N sorriu.

Y/N: Then don't stop.

Sunoo was completely still.

The chest rising and falling quickly, the mouth half-open, the eyes still carrying that internal conflict.

But Y/N didn't want any more conflict.

She wanted him to give in.

She wanted him to beg.

She wanted him to take her without thinking.

And to do that, I needed to push him until there was nothing left but pure desire.

Y/N: You can't stop anymore, can you? (she whispered, her fingers sliding down his chest, feeling the tension pulsing under his skin)

Sunoo didn't respond.

He just swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on her as if he already knew where this was going, but was still trying to fight it.

She smiled.

Slowly, she ran her hands over his shoulders and up to his neck, her fingers lightly playing with the strands of hair on the back of his neck.

Y/N: So don't stop, Sunoo...

He held his breath.

Y/N leaned in more, placing her lips on his jaw, feeling the tremor that ran through her body at the same moment.

Y/N: You've wanted me for so long... (she murmured against his skin, leaving slow kisses along his neck) Why are you still hesitating?

Sunoo's hands went to his waist, squeezing tightly, but he remained still, as if he needed one last push.

Y/N smiled against his skin.

Y/N: Or do you want me to beg?

And then, she slid her leg between his, pressing her body against him, feeling the undeniable proof that he wanted her.

Sunoo let out a muffled moan, his fingers digging deeper into your waist.

Y/N looked up and met his eyes.

They were different.

There was no more hesitation.

Just hungry.

And that's when he finally broke.

In an instant, he grabbed her face and kissed her again, but this time, there was no retreat.

The kiss was wild.

Desperate.

His fingers tightened around her body, pulling her closer, as if he wanted to feel every inch of her pressed against his.

Y/N smiled against his lips.

She won.

And now, Sunoo was completely hers.

Sunoo kissed her as if he were hungry, as if every second he spent holding back now needed to be made up for.

His fingers explored her body without hesitation, and Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine when she realized how strong and firm he held her.

She smiled against his lips, sliding her hands down his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Y/N: Calm down, Sunoo… (she murmured, provocatively, her eyes shining) I thought you were more… sweet.

Sunoo stood still for a second, breathing heavily.

Then he tilted his head, watching her with something different in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

Sunoo: Sweet? (he repeated, a slow, dark smile appearing on his lips)

Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach.

Before she could react, Sunoo grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly, putting their bodies together again.

Sunoo: You spent so long thinking I was safe, harmless... (he whispered, his lips brushing the skin of her neck) But do you know what happens when someone holds back their desire for too long?

He lightly bit the sensitive spot below her ear, making her body shudder.

Sunoo: It explodes.

Y/N barely had time to process the words before she was forcefully spun around and pressed against the wall.

Sunoo held your wrists above your head, his breath hot against your skin.

Sunoo: You teased me for so long, challenged me, tested me... (he laughed quietly, the sound hoarse and sinful) Now you'll have to deal with the consequences.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but any words died when she felt his teeth dig lightly into her skin, followed by his hot tongue sliding in, soothing the burning.

She gasped, feeling her entire body throb.

Sunoo was different.

He wasn't just her best friend anymore.

He was a man who had been restrained for too long.

And now, finally released, he seemed determined to make her pay for every provocation.

Y/N wanted to test her limits one last time.

Y/N: What if I don't want to deal with the consequences? (she whispered, a defiant smile on her lips)

Sunoo looked up, eyes burning into hers.

He tilted his head, his smile widening.

Sunoo: Oh, you will.

And then, he took her completely.

Sunoo looked at Y/N as if her teasing had ignited something deep within him. There was no longer any hesitation in his eyes. There was no more retreat. Just an insatiable hunger that grew by the second.

In one swift movement, he grabbed the back of her neck, his firm fingers pressing into her skin, and pressed his mouth to hers with a fierce urgency. The kiss was rough, with no room for softness, no chance for resistance. His tongue invaded your mouth with force, as if he was tasting something that should have been his all along.

Y/N tried to maintain control, tried to reverse the situation and provoke him again, but Sunoo didn't give her space. He pressed her against the wall, his firm body pressed against hers, letting her feel every inch of his response to the desire that consumed her.

Sunoo: You wanted to play with me this whole time, didn't you? (he whispered against her lips, his breathing hot and heavy) Now you're going to have to deal with what you've awakened.

Before she could respond, she felt his hands running down her body, without hesitation, without doubt. He held her waist tightly, pulling her closer, making a point of showing that there was no more room for escape. Y/N gasped, feeling her skin crawl under his touch, her mind trying to process what was happening.

Sunoo bit her lower lip before pulling it away slightly and looking at her with a smile filled with something dark.

Sunoo: Still think I'm the same? (he asked, his voice hoarse and low, sending shivers through her body)

Y/N didn't respond. I couldn't. His body was already reacting before he could even form any coherent thoughts.

Sunoo took that as an answer. His lips began to explore her neck, his tongue tracing a warm path to her collarbone. When he sucked on a sensitive spot there, she couldn't contain the low moan that escaped her lips.

He smiled against her skin.

Sunoo: That's it (mumbled) I want to hear more.

His fingers slowly descended, playing with the fabric of her clothes, as if he was testing the limits of her patience. But Y/N knew he wasn't joking. He was in control now.

And her?

She was about to lose hers completely.

Sunoo raised his face, his eyes fixed on hers, waiting for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was pure, uninhibited desire.

Sunoo: Good girl. (he whispered before finally leading them to a path of no return)

With a quick movement, he lifted her and sat her on the kitchen counter, her eyes dark and full of indecent promises. Y/N felt her heart race even more when Sunoo knelt in front of her, holding her thighs and spreading them firmly.

Sunoo: Now, I want to hear you even more (he murmured, his voice low and full of desire)

Without looking away, he pressed his lips against her exposed skin, trailing hot, wet kisses down her thigh until he finally reached her pulsing center. The first touch of his tongue made Y/N arch her back, a broken moan escaping her throat.

Sunoo smiled against his skin, pleased.

Sunoo: That… (he teased) I want your every sound for myself.

And then, without mercy, he took her completely into his mouth, making Y/N hold on to the edge of the counter, her eyes closed, as the intense pleasure consumed her.

When she finally gasped his name in pleading, Sunoo stood up, her eyes burning with lust. He held her waist tightly, turning her and leaning her slightly onto the counter.

Sunoo: You tortured me by telling you about other guys fucking you (he growled, his breathing heavy against your ear) But I'm going to fuck you so good that you'll never crave any other dick than mine again.

Before she could respond, he entered her at once, eliciting a loud moan from her lips. The shock of pleasure made her hold tight to the edge of the counter, her body already surrendered to the intense way he was taking her.

Sunoo held her waist firmly, guiding her movements without any hesitation. Each thrust was raw and deep and possessive, each thrust making it clear that he was leaving his mark on her.

He leaned over her, biting her shoulder and whispering, breathlessly:

Sunoo: I will never again let you doubt what I am capable of doing to you.

Y/N just lost herself completely in the overwhelming pleasure, knowing that after that night, nothing between them would ever be the same.

Sunoo: Look at you (he growled, his fingers squeezing her waist tightly, pulling her against him with each thrust) All wet for me... You like it like that, don't you? Being fucked by me like that?

Y/N could barely formulate a coherent response, only broken moans leaving her lips as pleasure took over every fiber of her body. But Sunoo wasn't satisfied yet.

He slid one of his hands down her body, down to her most sensitive spot, pressing with his thumb as he continued to thrust into her deeply.

Sunoo: I want to see you cum for me (he ordered, his voice full of lust) I want to feel you trembling on my dick while I fuck you so hard that you'll never be able to think about another guy other than me again.

And that's exactly what happened.

Y/N arched her back, a loud moan escaping her lips as her entire body contracted around him, pleasure exploding in overwhelming waves. Sunoo grunted as he felt her response, his own control crumbling as he buried himself into her one last time, panting, overcome with ecstasy.

They lay there, breathing heavily, their bodies still pressed together, their skin hot and damp. Sunoo slid his lips over her shoulder, leaving a possessive kiss before whispering against her skin:

Sunoo: I warned you that I would never let you see me the same way again.

Y/N smiled, still catching her breath, and turned her head to face him, her eyes shining with desire and satisfaction.

Y/N: And I promised myself I would tease you until you lost control.

Sunoo laughed, biting her bottom lip before pulling her into another hot kiss.

Sunoo: Then I hope you're ready to bear the consequences of this.

And he wasn't kidding.

Sunoo picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, throwing her onto the bed effortlessly. The wild gleam in his eyes made it clear that the night was far from over.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[gracie-eilish]

Peachy (pt 3)🧡✨🍑

an: THE LONGGGGGGGGG AWAITED PART THREEEEEEE

apologies for the delay y’all. i’m still maneuvering writing smut and i know y’all really like this series so i didn’t want it to be like super bad🤦‍♀️😵‍💫

warning: smut, fingering/oral r!receiving

Billie stood in the doorway to the living room, pretending to continue watching the movie, practically bouncing with energy. She was chewing on her nail while her ankle bounced in anticipation. You on the other hand, were furiously talking to your sibling in the other on the phone.

“Dude, just tell Mom to bring her phone to the fucking store and have them fix it. I have no idea why you’re calling me over such a small issue!” You huffed out, making Billie stifle a laugh.

Your head was in your hands, sitting at Billie’s kitchen table, trying not to scream into the phone as your friends all calmly continued their movie night in the room next door. Forget about the fact that this phone call was so not important like you had hoped it would be, the throbbing between your thighs only had intensified since you left the couch.

As your sibling rambled, you couldn’t help but let you mind wander to just a few minutes ago…

Billie’s soft hands splayed out on your thighs, her minty breath on your neck and her hot whispers in your ear, and her soft fingers playing with your clit so delicately-

“Hello????? Are you still there?” Shit.

“Yes hi sorry, connections glitchy. You know what I’m a little busy right now so please, just take Mom’s phone to the store and have the professionals figure it out and we’ll take it from there! Okay, Okay. Please don’t call me again tonight, I’m busy. Bye!!!” You set your phone down with a huff and sat your face in your hands.

As you started to gather yourself to rejoin the group, you started to hear the rumblings and padding around of everyone starting to head out for the night. Thank God, you thought.

You made your way back to the living room, hearing Billie say goodbye to the last of your friends before shutting the door. Her footsteps made their way back down the hall to where you stood, now shy, in the doorway.

“Hi Peach,” Billie said, finally letting out a laugh. You joined in giggling with her.

“What the fuck was that all about?” She giggled, signaling for you to sit on the couch.

“Fuckin christ. Some virus or something on my mom’s phone?? And apparently I’m a tech wiz so I was the one they called. I have zero fucking clue why,” You sighed out with a small smile, frustrated but laughing at the situation.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to.. you know,” Billie said with a smirk and you swear you saw a twinge of a blush on her cheeks.

“I still can you know.. I’ve got nowhere to be if that’s okay with you…” You flirted back, your tone now soft and sultry.

“Yeah, Peachy?” She smirked.

“Yeah baby.” Billie blushed at the nickname, you were always the soft, shy one so this was a new side to you she hadn’t seen before.

Before she could say another word you had already leaned in crashing your lips to hers, hands in her hair and her hands on your waist, pulling each other in as close as can be.

Billie grabbed your hand and lead you out of the living room up to her bedroom, the two of you giggling along the way.

As she shut the door behind her, your hands found Billie's waist, pulling her closer. You stood on your toes and pressed your lips against hers, initiating a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, tongues dancing and exploring, tasting each other's desire.

“Mmm Bils..” you moaned in between kisses.

“I know Peachy, I know..” she reassured.

As the kiss deepened, Billie's hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and contour. She slid her hands under your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your lower back. You moaned into the kiss, your body arching into Billie's touch.

She backed you up until your knees hit the mattress, softly pushing you back till you fell with a soft thud. You pushed yourself back until your head lay on her pillows, as Billie crawled up to hover over you. Her long dark hair creating a curtain around your faces, as she stared deep into your eyes, her own turning into a deep dark lust filled blue.

“You sure mama?” Billie pulled back to see your full face. Not two hours ago she was fingering you under the blanket on her couch and now she was being sweet. The thought made you giggle before responding a meek ‘yes’, barely able to make words.

With slow, deliberate movements, Billie began to pull off your shirt, revealing your pale orange colored lace bra and the swell of your breasts. Billie chuckled softly at the color choice, briefly looking up at you through her lashes, you just smirked back down at her; you knew what you were doing.

“You’re trouble aren’t ya peach,” she quipped, moving her way back up to your neck. You just giggled before letting out a blissful sigh when her lips came in contact with your neck. She kissed a path down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of fire, and pink and purple marks. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her, encouraging her to take what she wanted. Her skilled fingers found their way to your back, unclipping your bra and pulling it off, revealing your perfect tits to her.

“So pretty,” She whispered mainly to herself, but she knew you heard it when your face flushed a deep pink.

Your hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer, urging her to feel the intensity of your desire. Her fingers found the waistband of your shorts, deftly untying them and sliding them and your panties down your slender legs. She followed suit, taking off her own top revealing her dark colored lace bra, her perfect tits practically spilling out of it. Followed by her sweats, revealing her matching thong… and those yummy tattoos. She had you drooling and you didn’t even know it.

“You like what you see mama?” She whispered, making your eyes shoot back up to her own, nodding softly, unable to form words. She smirked taking off her bra and thong, and then knelt before you, gazing up at you with desire-filled eyes.

“I need to taste you peachy, is that okay mama?” You flushed at the nickname, nodding softly before leaning down to kiss her softly.

She pulled away and leaned back on her heels gently spreading your legs, revealing your wetness, a testament to your arousal.

“So pretty f’me Peach. You know that? Prettiest peach, all f’me,” She rambled into your thighs, pressing kisses everywhere except where you needed her.

Finally her fingers delved into your moist folds, stroking and teasing your clit. Your breath quickened as Billie's skilled fingers brought you to the brink of ecstasy. "Oh, fuck Billie," you gasped, your body trembling.

“Ah ah ah, not yet sweet girl. Want this to last,” She whispered, leaning up to press a wet kiss to your tummy.

Billie's mouth replaced her fingers, her tongue flicking and licking, driving you wild with pleasure. She sucked on your sweet bud, her fingers continuing to stroke and tease, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Billie I- fuck. Billie, please!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, you just knew you needed it.

“Please what angel? What do you want, hmm? Tell me.” You gasped out, letting your head fall back as she whispered into your pussy.

“I’m so close, please- I want more!” You cried out. tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you got so close to your release for the second time tonight.

“Peachy wants more, Peachy gets more,” She smirked into your thighs before diving back in.

“I swear to god you even taste like a peach. How the fuck did you do that??” She questioned, chuckling a bit, gaining a breathy giggle out of you too.

You giggle was cut short when she slipped two fingers back into you and finally hit that sweet spot making you see stars.

“Holy fuck Billie!” you cried out, watching her. She never broke eye contact, watching you as her eyes darkened with every thrust. She had been waiting for this for so long… way before that party at your place…

Your body tensed, and with a cry of release, you came, your sweet juices flowing onto Billie's waiting tongue.

She savored the taste of you, your orgasm lingering on her lips. She continued to moan and lap at your sensitive folds, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. Your body trembled, your hands gripping the sheets before grabbing Billie’s hand off your hip and intertwining your fingers as you rode the waves of your climax.

As your breathing slowed, Billie gently kissed your inner thighs, leaving a trail of tender kisses up to your face, making you giggle. She sat up to flop down next to you in bed pulling you into a tight embrace, your naked bodies pressing together.

“You okay sweet girl?” Billie whispered, running a hand over your back softly.

“Yeah I’m okay,” You replied sleepily, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, making Billie’s heart burst.

“Hey Billie?” You mumbled.

“Yeah Peach?”

“I kinda have a crush on you,” Billie cackled at your statement, your own giggles mixing in with hers.

“What?! I do!!” You whined teasingly.

“Yeah Peachy, I know you do,” She replied laughing. “Can I tell you a secret too?”

You nodded biting your lip, holding back another sweet giggle.

“I have a crush on you too,” She replied in her little voice. You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest, clutching your invisible pearls as Billie leaned over to pepper kisses all over your cheeks.

As your giggles subsided, the two of you snuggled up closer to one another. Billie grabbed the edge of the blanket and brought it up over your shoulders making sure you were warm enough.

“You sleepy, baby?” She whispered, only met with a small nod and sleepy whimper from you as you wrapped yourself around her more.

“Wait.. m’not that sleepy. Wanna help you too,” you slurred out, trying to blink enough to wake up your eyes. Billie bit back a giggle before pulling your body back down to hers. You would have your time to pleasure Billie. For now, having you in her arms was enough.

“Goodnight Peach,” She whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head. You had already drifted off, your body relaxing fully into hers, limp in her arms.

As Billie drifted off and the smell of your peachy perfume filled her senses, she knew that this was heaven.

🧡✨🍑💋

[roc-haze]

Tis The Damn Season | ArthurTV

In which Arthur is your best friend.

————

Get on the plane. Fly. See your friends. See your ex. Forget why you broke up. Get back on the plane. Fly. Reopen the wound. Repeat.

Moving away to pursue your dreams felt like breaking free. Unbridled opportunity, a new city, separation from the family and friends who don’t quite get you. Ending a relationship around the same time as the move was weirdly liberating and ultimately inevitable. James, your partner, was happy to stay put and had no real desire to move on from the small town in which you grew up.

One of your good friends, Arthur, had experienced the highs and lows of leaving it all behind.

“Let me know when you’re home, and I’ll come over to debrief. The small town fatigue hits hard.” He grinned, embracing you in a huge hug at Heathrow Airport.

Two weeks later, here you were. The flight had gotten in around 8pm, jumping in a taxi and immediately heading straight for your flat. By 9pm, you found yourself laying on top of the duvet, candles lit across the room and a vinyl playing quietly in the background.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed throughout the flat, followed by rustling and a quiet “hi mate”. A few moments later, Arthur entered through the doorway and crossed the room to side beside you.

“I had a feeling I might find you like this.” Arthur put down the tote bag he was carrying, laying down next to you.

“What gave it away?” Your voice monotone, lacking any real emotion.

“The photos of James on your story. You looked a little too happy.” Arthur lay staring at the ceiling, not wanting to say too much.

“I think he has a way of pulling me back in,” you let out a sigh, eyes fixated on a mark on the ceiling. “It’s just nice to have someone know you so well… like I forget what it’s like to not have this urge to fill the silence or to make myself exciting to someone else.”

Silence fell over the room, Arthur allowing you the space to vent.

“It’s just fucked, Arthur. God forbid I have a desire to move away and better my life. I mean, look at me. I have a great, fulfilling career. Incredible friends. Am I not worth changing for? He’s acting as if I’m babe for the weekend.” Your voice trembled, eyes watering.

“Do you want an actual answer to that? Or would you prefer to vent?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Both.” You finally shifted to look at Arthur.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always made space for him in your dreams. You’ve had a goal, a plan on how to get there and so far, you’ve done everything you’ve set your mind to. Some people are just content with what’s in front of them… James is one of them.” Arthur smiled softly.

“I just don’t understand. I don’t see him for months, we see each other again and it sounds like he’s reconsidered and is ready to move. Only for him to turn me down all over again.” Your hands made their way to your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not worth it or you’re not enough to move for. It’s just an indicator that he’s not your forever person. The right person will be sure about you… they won’t have to reconsider. They’ll know.” God, Arthur was annoying when he was right.

“You’re probably right.” You sat up against the frame of the bed. “Please tell me you brought wine with you.”

Arthur followed suit, standing up to retrieve his bag. “Of course I did! I have some picky bits too.” He pulled two bottles of wine out of his bag, before holding up an array of snacks.

“You are a man after my own heart, Mr TV.” You gave him a small grin, rising to your feet.

“Shall we go commiserate on the couch? There’s a new episode of 90 Day Fiancé out.” Arthur handed you the wine, throwing an arm over your shoulder and directing you through to the living area. “Just out of curiosity.. do you think you’ll be dating anytime soon? George asked me to put in a good word.”

You laughed, jabbing the man lightly. “For George, I’m free any day of the week.”

——

Author’s note:

Won’t lie friends - this is based on my life at the minute oops. I am in my sad girl Taylor Swift era at the moment 🥲

Working on a Will fic! Please send through any requests 🫶

Deliberately did not pick a small town as I am not British hehe pls imagine for yourself xx

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 1: The Best Friend

You and Chris had been best friends since birth—practically inseparable. Your mothers were best friends, and so naturally, you two were too. There wasn’t a moment in your life where Chris wasn’t there. You knew everything about each other—when one of you was upset, the other could feel it. You were each other’s person, the one constant in a world that always changed.

Then, everything started to shift.

It was November 7th, 2024, when you woke up to your phone buzzing with an onslaught of messages from Chris.

“Y/N!!”

“Y/N!!”

“Y/N!!!”

Half-asleep, you grabbed your phone and replied, “Whatttt, Chris?”

His response came instantly.

“I got a girlfriend!!! Remember Avery? The pretty one with the blonde hair? The one I met at the party?”

Your stomach flipped. Chris, the one person who had never committed to anyone, was suddenly head over heels. You stared at the message, trying to push aside the uneasy feeling creeping up inside you. You quickly typed back:

“No way, Chris! Really? That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

You weren’t sure if you meant it.

“I’m coming over!” he texted.

And just like that, he was at your door, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“She’s perfect, Y/N,” he gushed, flopping onto your couch. “Her blonde hair is so soft, and her eyes? The brightest blue. And her smile—oh my god, her teeth are perfect. And she’s so easy to talk to. I swear, she just gets me.”

He went on and on, completely oblivious to the way your heart sank with every word. You nodded, forcing a smile. “She sounds great, Chris.”

You wanted to mean it. You really did. But as he continued talking, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change. That maybe, just maybe, Avery was the beginning of the end.

A/N- kinda hate this but let me know how i did (first writing long)

RANDOM TAGS BECAUSE I NEED ADVICE: @sturnshood @stxrsniolo @rcklessheavn @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @middlepartmatt @evansturn @eveoftheweek

[pruneunfair]

When you have a shitty sibling. *TW: talk of abuse and rape*

This is a little different than what I usually post.

Not too long ago, I made a vent post that was mostly pretty vague but got the central point across, it's deleted now but not like it matters since it was just mindless ranting.

That vent post was dedicated mostly to my younger brother.

For all the people with siblings out there, we already know those corny depictions of brothers and sisters always getting along and calling each other "Big bro" was not the most accurate form of a sibling relationship. Naturally you fight a lot with this person considering they are a built in room mate, meaning you have to live with someone including their worst habits. Maybe they plop a plate into the sink right as you're done doing dishes, maybe they take your things without bothering to ask you, those are all normal things to expect out of a sibling. What doesn't feel normal is when they reach this level of behavior.

My brother who I'll refer to as B relatively liked to get on peoples nerves but other than that, he wasn't so bad to be around up until recently. It was little things at first, leaving his garbage behind in the living room, making a fuss if we asked him to do anything, and then it got progressively worse.

Skipping school for 3 months straight, running away from home to god knows what, bringing strange people home, vaping and taking substances, increasing levels of disrespect towards women, seemed to assume that if a person who happened to be female wasn't punished along side him meant that they were being bias toward her for being a girl, calling our own disabled mother lazy for being unable to work, expecting everyone to cater towards him and pick up his slack, actively call me and our mom a bitch/cunt, pretending that he's going to hit me to see me flinch, gaslighting us, severe lack of empathy, casually admitting to want to hit me and other people that make him mad, refusal to listen or admit when he's wrong.

B has changed this much in only the span of a year. The lack of empathy and over eagerness to have an excuse to threaten someone is honestly scaring me.

Lately I started to take on the role of tidying up around the house and cooking dinner. My mom as I mentioned is mentally disabled, she can still perform tasks herself and still is juggling around two households of the family, I don't wanna to get too into it but I'll just say that she needs to take a myriad of medication to help regulate her mind or else she could kill herself. Her mental health has declined in recent years to the point where she can't keep a job and she does need help more than ever.

Now I do not mind this at all, mom is still a very considerate woman who appreciates the help I do and still makes an effort to keep things easy, it's also a good way for me to learn independence and take care of myself. The problem is that I have to live with B for a brother and he likes to bring his gang of friends over for small house parties that I usually am in charge of when mom is away. The house is always left a mess as a result and I have to pick it up since B likes to weaponize his incompetence to escape responsibility, I have to pick up every piece of crap they leave behind and sweep up old crumbs off the floor only for those same kids to come back, destroy the house again, leave me to clean it up because B knows that if I don't, all he needs to do is continue weaponizing his incompetence until our mom snaps and has me clean it for him.

There is no compromising with him, B has made it clear that if he says "Nope" then we have to suck it up because he can always just run away to our dad or claim that we are just acting crazy. I can't even get some basic respect from him for being the maid for him and his friends bullshit.

Now this all wouldn't be so scary if I didn't know he had no empathy but he clearly doesn't. How do I know?

Well, I'll leave a pretty simple background: Mom kept telling dad to stop, Dad coerced mom that it would be fine and he lied about wearing a condom. 9 months later I was born.

This is very sensitive knowledge that we do not talk about at all, hell B and I weren't even supposed to know I was both a rape and a baby trap kid, I can't exactly remember why but mom mentioned it on a bad day that I now know was likely an episode.

And during an argument, B told our mother, the woman who was willing to stay with our father just so she can at least have a planned child in the name of B, that she should have taken some birth control before she "had sex" with our dad. That boy KNOWS that was one thing mom never wanted to remember, even when we reminded him WHY we don't talk about that, he didn't care, what mattered was that he got the point of him hating me across.

So yeah, I'm officially terrified of the same person who I used to know as an itty bitty baby sleeping in the crib next to my bed.

I know I am not the only one dealing with this shit, plenty of people do and it's shitty that you have to walk on egg shells around someone you knew when they were still innocent, a little baby turning into a monster with no interest in being better as a person, only in being right at all times. For anyone who has a shitty brother or sister reading this, I am so sorry that you have to live in fear of someone you called family but you are not alone, if you believe you might be in danger even, please tell someone, anyone at all, whenever it's a social worker at school, a cop, or even just a few people you trust. You don't deserve to believe you are worse then dirt just because you had to step up and pick up the slack around your household.

Thank you for listening.

[hulloitsdani]

Fighting for your life with heroes against brand new ones that sweep your team. Henrietta lore? That power she must keep in check? Summoner just won't die. Only in some timelines. and badly. Sharena. Ragnorok?!?! Loki's shenanigans.

Thank you stranger! In no particular order, let’s go through these

First off, OH I LOVEEEEEE BEING IMMEDIATELY PROVEN WRONG ABOUT LOKI. FINALLY. THANK FUCK. The validation I felt when the question of her motives was IMMEDIATELY brought up this book. I don’t care that my read was wrong— what I truly wanted more than anything was something of more substance to read into. As for actual predictions, my bets are that her aims are on bringing about Ragnorok and the end of the gods. For fun. As a treat. For the silly.

As for the actual state of the game, idk man, I play this game weird. I’m both free to play and entirely causal, so it’s entirely up to luck if I ever have any relevant units. In my many years of playing this game, I have never managed to +10 merge a unit that wasn’t a grail unit. So I don’t tend to play game modes where that matters much, with the exception of aether raids sometimes. I like clearing the challenge maps and making the story mode levels really difficult by using strictly Askr trio.

For events outside of that, I have a lot of fun using about one team per six months and trying to creatively use them and their base skills to solve whatever new bullshit is added. The game is clearly not built for you to do that, but I like the challenge it poses. I got really lucky on the CYL7 banner and got all four of the guys from that event. Brave Robin, Corrin, Soren and Gullvieg was my go to team for wayyyy longer than it should have, especially with zero changes to their kits and no merges. Hell I didn’t even have dragon flowers on half of them because Askr Trio building has long stolen most of flower supply. But god was it fun. I know how that group of units play off each other like the back of my hand. And considering how most people tend to just be frustrated with this game’s gameplay, it feels like I must be doing something right. I am constantly broke tho, so rip.

On the lore side, Henriette and Gustav are such a fascinating two for one package for me. Marketable plushies often bought together please don’t separate. The :) to his >:(. They’re both are great rulers and loving partners, but fumbled a bit in their parenting in ways that make total sense. For you see, I am a firm believer that everyone walks out of their childhood at least a little fucked up. Even the best parents are still human. And I adore Askr’s royal family unit, because it digs into that idea! Henriette and Gustav weren’t abusive or harboring malicious intent, but they were neglectful and lacking in ways that cannot be denied. Which is extremely cool! More of this please and thank you.

Looping back to the quote in question, to be perfectly honest, I would be pleasantly surprised if we ever got answers for her day of devotion alt voice lines. However, Gustav having a wife with the power to kill him easily would be so fucking funny. Like father, like son. If your romantically coded life partner can’t theoretically ensure your body is never found, what’s even the point. She doesn’t even need to be secretly divine or anything— I would be satisfied with her being something as simple as an abnormally strong mage. She can accidentally fold people like an omelet if she’s not being careful. Which, now that I’m putting that into writing, might contribute to her relationship with her kids.

Speaking of, Sharena!!! My best friend Sharena!!! I’ve got a multitude of thoughts cooking for her, but currently the one at the forefront is making home girl jacked as hell. Not joking. Dead ass. We all know the role she plays on a personality level— she’s the heart. The emotional glue that keeps these loner trickster types together and in check. But considering that this is the theater of war and everyone else has a role to play, I think it could be interesting if she was the beefiest fighter in the Askr trio. She’s able to dedicate the time fully to that craft, you know? She’s not balancing the responsibilities that arise from being the Order’s commander, tactician, or right hand man/history buff. Not to mention she was trained to fight by Bruno, who presumably played the role of group muscle before her. Therefore, when it comes to feats of physical strength, Sharena should be the Order’s go-to lady! I think it would be neat! She deserves the ability to easily carry her commanding officer and beat Alfonse’s nerdy ass in an arm wrestle.

Last but certainly not least, summoner bad ends! What could possibly go wrong? A lot, apparently. And it happens much more often than you’d expect.

See, I don’t think it’s that the summoner cannot die. Polar opposite, if anything. Each success is built upon the littered corpses of millions of failures. This idea loops back to the alternate version of Askr the group finds in book 3. In order to defeat Hel, they must loot the corpse of a dead world. By its very nature, not every summoner has an alternate corpse to loot. At least half of all realities where the summoner exists results in death and ruin by book 3 ALONE. This is saying nothing of all the dangerous odds they must beat from then to book 9. Just pulling one example off the dome, in order to defeat Gullveig, they had to die a truly eldritch and inconceivable amount of times. But we the audience don’t bear witness to that. We get to see the one world with the one summoner who is hitting those fraction of a fraction odds. The universe’s luckiest bastard. Others are not so lucky.

[beef-brisket]

As the years ticked by, Lilith had no luck in finding the other two journals, but that doesn't mean she gave up.

Adam had left notes and notebooks filled with his work all over the place.

So, when she wasn't making a living running the Mystery Shack, she was studying everything she could about interdimensional travel. She wouldn't stop until she understood everything her brother wrote.

And slowly but surely, Lilith was understanding and learning. She even started repairing the portal.

Opening up a panel, she found some fried circuits. She carefully repaired them and placed the panel back.

Each thing she fixed, she tried turning it on. Nothing happened for nearly ten years. But finally, after fixing a broken wire that leads from the controls to the portal, the lights turned on.

Lilith: O-Oh my god...

Nothing happened but it was a start. A good fucking start.

She was getting closer.

It's been nearly twenty years since she lost Adam, but she knows if there's anyone that could survive Hell, it's him.

Lilith: I'm coming, Addy. I'm getting closer. I promise.

-

Adam sighed as he sat on his knees in front of Lucifer, who was laughing at something Mammon was going on about.

Their kids had long since moved out and is making their own, demonish name for themselves.

He wanted them to study science, but who was he kidding? There's jack shit in the way of science down here. So, they followed Lucifer's way of doing things.

Which was... fine.

Shifting, Adam looked down at himself. He was wearing his usual, revealing outfit, his hands bound in golden chains.

As much as he hated to say it, Lucifer was changing. He was different. Scary even.

Maybe Peter was right.

Adam sighed, thinking of his friend. He should have stopped all those years ago when he got sucked into the portal and came back screaming.

He cringed, remembering Peter's screams. It was... horrific.

Ozzie: And Adam? What do you think-?

Lucifer: Pft! Adam's a man of human sciences! He wouldn't have anything to offer this discussion-.

Adam: Well, actually, I've studied a lot about Hell while I've been down here-.

Lucifer: Pet~? Darling~? Did I give your permission to speak~?

Adam: ...No, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Good boy! Now, Ozzie, do not speak to him without asking~.

Ozzie sighed and rolled his eyes. Typical pride demon.

Falling for the Dream Demon

@adambrainrot I blame you lol I hope you like it.

-

Adam had always been brilliant, Lilith knew that her brother was going to do great things one day like find life on another planet or find the cure to cancer. She was always in awe of him when he would speak with such high intelligence that sometimes she got lost in what he was actually saying.

They were twins, bound together by blood and have always been close. She always looked out for her nerdy little brother and wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

Except, as they got older, she was the one to hurt him. Not physically, but when they were in senior year of high school together Adam was being offered scholarships left and right from schools all around the country and the one he wanted the most would take him over seas.

Lilith let her jealousy get the best of her and ruined his chances by messing with his project.

Adam, being the genius he was knew it was her.

It wrecked their relationship and he never forgave her.

Adam slammed his car door shut and stomped away to get into the driver's seat.

"Adam come on, I said I was sorry" Lilith was leaning on his car and he all but pushed her away.

Adam glared at her "I don't care about you watered down apology, Lilith, do you have any idea what your childish tomfoolery has cost me?"

She didn't understand why he had to talk like he was 80. "You still got into your second choice! That's good right?"

Adam got into his car and gripped the steering wheel, his 12 fingers nearly turning white from the amount of rage he felt. "You just don't get it and you never will." He's never held his sisters lack of intellect against her, not everyone could be a genius like him, but in this moment he couldn't believe how stupid she was.

Lilith felt her chest get tight, she didn't like this. "Addie please......"

"No, I'm going to follow my dream and no one, not even you will stop me." He's already said goodbye to their mother and father. He doesn't need to be here anymore.

Before she could say another word Adam sped off into the distance, leaving his old life behind.

-

As the years went by Adam got three PhDs and a doctorate, he wanted to major in the anomalies of the world and there seemed to be a huge influx of them in this place named Gravity Falls.

He bought a cabin in the woods to live in and work in.

That's where he met the woman that would help him with his study, Dr. Eve Gardener.

Adam decided to keep a log of journals to keep track of everything he found. He's always been different with no one understanding him.

But being a genius and having someone who's brilliant to help him can only get him so far. He's hit a dead end in where everything comes from.

"What can I do?" Adam mused to himself as he tapped the pen on his journal. So far him and Eve have only found gnomes that talk and throw up rainbows.

He decided to go to the library to find anything that might help him. That's when he came across a book on demons.

Dream demons.

-

Adam had everything set up, maybe he was desperate and wanted to make things work so badly and obtain materials for his research.

Adam took a deep breath, "No turning back now." He spoke the spell that made the pentagram on the floor glow a bright red. From the glow stood a man in a white suit and top hat, short in height but that didn't matter. His face shrouded in mystery from the shadow of the brim of his hat concealing his face. When he looked up his eyes were red and yellow glowing brightly.

"Well hello there.~" The demon spoke smoothly, his voice deep. "And who might you be?"

Adam couldn't believe this actually worked. "My name is Dr. Adam Kadmon, I...... Who are you?"

"The name is Lucifer Morningstar! At your service handsome! Now, I assume you've brought me here for a reason?" Lucifer grinned and tipped his hat to Adam, winking.

Oh, so the demon is a flirt. Wonderful. Adam felt his smoldering gaze on him, it was intense and he..... Weirdly didn't hate it.

"I'm doing research about Gravity Falls and..... I've come to a bit of a stand still." Adam set the book down never taking his eyes off the demon.

Lucifer smiled so wide, showing off all of his pearly white sharp teeth. "Oh of course! I can help you with anything, whatever your heart desires I can give it to you Adam. You want to be rich, have great power, or even unlock the secrets of the universe I can give it to you! But, you have to give me something in return."

"Oh?"

"Yes! You can't get something for nothing you know.~" Lucifer practically purred, he leaned on his cain as he looked the human up and down.

Adam shifted on his feet, if this demon was telling the truth then anything would be worth it. "What would you want?"

Lucifer hummed, "All I ask, is that you let me into your mind, body, and soul.~"

"My s-soul?" That..... Sounds like a huge deal.

"Yes! How else am I going to be able to supply you with everything you need and secure everything you've ever wanted?~ I'm not asking you to give it to me, not completely. What do you say? We have a deal?~"

Lucifer held out his hand, it was gloves in leather and erupted in a red flame.

Everything Adam ever wanted was being given to him on a silver platter and even though he shouldn't he wanted it more. It could be years before he makes a breakthrough and he didn't want to waste his time chasing his tail.

Adam gripped Lucifer's hand, surprised that it didn't hurt when the flame surrounded his as well. He yelped when Lucifer pulled him in and dipped him.

Lucifer was smiling but it was far from innocent. "All demon deals are sealed with a kiss.~" He captured Adam's lips in a kiss, the scientist felt like his face was a flame and his heart started to pound in his chest.

He liked it, but why?

-

Lucifer kept his word and helped Adam discover all the secrets and knowledge that he was promised.

Adam recorded everything in his journal and it got to be to the point where he ended up with three of them he learned so much.

-

"You didn't forget your end of the deal did you Adam?"

"Of course not Luci."

Those nights that they had grown closer and had partaken in sins of the flesh. He let Lucifer ravish his mind and body anyway he wanted.

He never wanted to let his demon go.

-

Lucifer wants him to build a portal, he didn't see a problem with it. Surely Eve will love to help him.

-

"Eve!?" Adam cried out, he had secured himself to the floor with rope. Eve didn't get the chance as the portal turned on and nearly sucked her in, her foot caught on rope.

She screamed at everything she saw on the other side. Adam pulled her back and turned it off.

Eve was shaking and talking backwards? "Eve?" He reached out for her and she screamed.

"You have to destroy that thing! It's not safe!"

"What!? But it's my life work!"

Eve looked behind Adam and saw Lucifer standing there and her blood ran cold. She couldn't do this anymore!! "I'm sorry Adam! I-I-I can't do this!" She got up and ran out, Adam called for her but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

-

Lilith made the journey to Adam's cabin in the snow. She had to see her brother. Knowing on the door Adam answered shocked to see his sister of all people. "Why are you here?"

"..... Mom died."

That got her in the door to stay for the night, Adam cried for the loss of their mom. But that didn't mean everything was smooth sailing between them.

But still, he showed her his work.

In the basement she marveled at the portal. "What's the big red button do?"

Adam's eyes went wide, "Lilith don't!"

But she hit the button, ever curious. The portal turned on and it sucked Adam inside.

"ADAM!!!"

The portal malfunctioned and black smoke came from it turning it off nearly exploding it. Lilith stared in disbelief, what the fuck had she just done?

-

Adam looked around panicked, he had never been in here before and he didn't know if he could leave.

A gloved hand gripped his chin and Lucifer smiled at him. "Welcome home darling.~"