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hyukascampfire · 28 days ago

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𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, creampie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you?

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?”

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.”

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat.

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?”

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.”

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them.

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?”

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.”

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.

Can’t things just stay like this?

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.”

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.”

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.”

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.”

“I just... don’t know.”

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.”

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?”

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says.

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.”

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.”

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.”

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you.

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.”

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!”

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.”

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands.

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.

⚝⭒

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit.

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened.

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home.

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was.

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed.

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him.

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.”

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones.

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty.

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you.

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go.

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands.

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd.

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready.

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him.

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.

⚝⭒

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever.

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs.

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?”

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.”

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.”

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you.

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee.

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin.

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.”

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?”

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?”

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up.

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.”

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again.

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.”

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?”

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—”

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.”

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.

⚝⭒

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...”

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you.

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.”

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms. Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?”

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?”

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...”

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?”

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.”

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.”

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway.

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.”

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button.

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips.

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?”

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.”

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.”

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?”

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.”

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.”

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.”

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face, though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?”

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.”

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches.

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.”

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.”

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up.

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though.

⚝⭒

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely.

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope.

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered.

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on.

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?”

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.”

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.”

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest.

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.”

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?”

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.”

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.

⚝⭒

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable.

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this.

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you.

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it.

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting.

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?”

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.”

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands.

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him.

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this.

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.”

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap.

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap.

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his.

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you.

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there.

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs.

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you.

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need.

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?”

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that?

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.”

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.”

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?”

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?”

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could he ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt.

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?”

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit.

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.”

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright.

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind.

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up.

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure.

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened.

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you.

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.

⚝⭒

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out.

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?”

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with.

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him.

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.”

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.”

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.”

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest.

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.”

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.”

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.”

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.”

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it.

⚝⭒

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it.

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls?

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel.

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place.

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here?

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know.

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness.

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes.

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo.

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt.

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring.

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that.

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.”

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder.

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.”

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.”

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says.

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.

⚝⭒

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore.

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time.

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then.

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore.

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest.

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them.

So you do.

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow.

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer.

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you.

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you.

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again.

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled.

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?”

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.”

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.”

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.”

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard?

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?”

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.”

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.”

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.”

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.”

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...”

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths.

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.”

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes.

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.”

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.”

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did.

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once.

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too.

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered.

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.”

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.”

⚝⭒

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed.

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping.

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.”

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?”

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.”

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.”

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks.

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.”

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior.

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.”

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy.

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.”

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlights pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you.

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.”

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.”

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?”

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage.

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.”

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine.

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.”

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound.

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?”

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.”

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.”

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought.

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half.

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.”

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up.

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it.

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest.

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again.

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life.

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.”

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam.

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core.

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—”

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?”

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there.

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?”

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat.

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth.

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck.

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there.

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.”

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai.

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him.

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.”

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.”

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten around him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?”

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!”

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?”

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples.

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt.

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair.

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever.

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips.

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.”

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says:

Home. You are home.

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

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Hi sweetheart🫶🏻🤍

I was wondering if you could do a Hugh Jackman x kind! fem reader, where he's having a tiring day and comes back home. You've cooked him a nice dinner and made pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls for desert🫶🏻He appreciates the settlement and wants to give something back, but it was his night.

I love your fics bbg <3

A warm fall night

Hugh jackman x fem!reader

Warnings: smut/fluff, minors dni!

P in v (wrap it up guys), creampie, oral m!receiving, couch sex , slight mention of alcohol (not too much), reader has hair lmk if I forgot something🙏🏼

masterlist

A/n: hi bb! Thank you sm for always supporting me! 🫶🏻 sorry it took so long, but I hope u like this💋

The door to your home creaked open softly, and you heard the familiar shuffle of shoes against the doormat as Hugh stepped inside. The late evening sun cast an orange glow through the windows, but the air carried the first crisp hints of autumn. You glanced up from the kitchen counter, already knowing by the way he moved that it had been a long day. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, putting down the dish towel and walking over to him. “You’re home.”

Hugh turned toward you, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, his deep voice gravelly with fatigue. He placed his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, letting out a heavy breath. He looked so worn down, and all you wanted was to make sure he left his troubles at the door tonight.

“You look tired honey” you observed softly, reaching up to smooth your hand across his arm in a comforting gesture.

“Long day. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes,” he admitted, leaning into your touch. “But it’s better now.” His eyes found yours, full of gratitude already.

“Well, I thought you might need something nice to come home to,” you said, guiding him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and relax. I made your favourite." He sat down and looked up at you,"you are my favourite"

Hugh looked at the food and raised a brow, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his tiredness. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a soft laugh. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I wanted to make sure you could unwind tonight.”

The table was set simply but beautifully, with candles flickering in the center and a hearty meal waiting for him. Grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and buttery mashed potatoes, comfort food at its finest. You placed a glass of red wine in front of him, watching as he took it all in. He looked touched, almost overwhelmed for a moment.

“This looks incredible,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, smiling as you sat down across from him. “Just enjoy it.”

As Hugh dug into the meal, you could see the tension start to leave his body. Each bite seemed to relax him a little more, and you felt a sense of satisfaction just watching him unwind. It was rare for him to take a moment for himself; he was always giving so much to everyone else, always on the go. Tonight, though, you were determined to make sure he felt appreciated.

After a while, you cleared the plates and returned to the kitchen, a playful grin on your face. “I hope you saved some room,” you called over your shoulder.

“For what?” Hugh asked, leaning back in his chair, his interest piqued.

You turned around, holding a tray of pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls, the golden-brown swirls drizzled with a light glaze, still warm from the oven. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, instantly making the room feel cozier.

His eyes widened as you set the tray down on the table. “You made these? You’ve been busy.”

“Just wanted to make sure dessert was special too,” you said, sliding one of the rolls onto a plate and handing it to him. “Pumpkin spice is perfect this time of year, don’t you think?”

Hugh chuckled, taking a bite and closing his eyes in pure enjoyment. “You’re spoiling me tonight,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “These are amazing.”

You sat down next to him, watching him enjoy the dessert, your heart swelling with affection. There was something so satisfying about knowing you’d given him a bit of comfort after such a hard day.

Hugh took your hand across the table, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your palm. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s all about you. You give so much of yourself to everyone, I just wanted to make sure you get a little something back.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with a deep sense of appreciation. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You could see it in his eyes, the weariness fading, replaced by something softer, more relaxed. He had needed this—a night to feel cared for, a night where he didn’t have to be “on” or worry about anyone else.

After dessert, you led him over to the couch, the soft glow of the candles still flickering in the background as you settled down beside him. He stretched out, pulling you into his arms, and you both melted into the cushions, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you.

“This,” Hugh said quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned into him, “is perfect. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just... be in a while.”

You nestled closer, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “You deserve it. No need to do anything tonight. Just relax.”

Hugh chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s supposed to be my night, but I can’t help it. I want to give something back.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, smiling. “You being here is more than enough.”

But he wasn’t having it. Gently, he shifted, pulling you on his lap and his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was low and sincere. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath yours. As you moved, you could feel him growing beneath you, the subtle shift in his breath giving him away. His hands instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you began to gently grind against him, your movements slow and deliberate.

A soft groan escaped his lips, his head falling back as he gave in to the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. The way he responded to you, completely immersed, sent a thrill through your body. You reveled in the control you held, the connection building between you.

But just as the heat began to build, you slowly pulled away, rising from his lap with a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. His eyes opened, clouded with desire as he watched your every move. Without breaking the gaze, you reached down, undoing the button of his pants, your fingers deft and patient.

You freed him gently, your touch light and careful, feeling the weight of the moment between you. You knelt before him, your lips finding his dick.

Each sound he made, each quiet groan or sharp intake of breath—spurred you on, filling the room with a charged energy. His hand flew to your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as he guided you with barely perceptible movements, letting you set the pace. Every motion was filled with deliberate care, a mixture of affection and desire growing stronger between you.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His breathing became heavier, ragged with anticipation, and you knew he was close. His hips bucked slightly, and the warmth of his body against you sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You could sense him nearing the edge, so you quickened your pace, eager to give him everything he wanted.

But then, just as his breathing hitched and his grip in your hair tightened, he suddenly stopped you. His hand slid from your hair to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your breath catching as you realized how close he was. A soft whine escaped your lips, the loss of contact leaving you yearning for more, but his gaze, dark and full of desire, held you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, thick with need. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver in anticipation. “I want you to ride me, babygirl.”

The way he said it, so calm yet commanding, sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, a flush of heat rising in your chest as your mind raced. Without a word, you nodded and took your pants off, a smile playing on your lips as you shifted your weight and moved to straddle him. His hands immediately found your waist, guiding you into position, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him beneath you igniting every nerve in your body. His low groan vibrated through the air, and you felt his grip tighten as you sank down fully, taking him in. For a moment, you stayed still, letting the intensity of the connection settle between you both. The room was filled with quiet breaths and the electric hum of anticipation, each of you lost in the feeling of the other.

His hands slid from your waist up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he urged you to move. You began to roll your hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that matched the deep, unspoken connection between you. His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing as he let out a soft, guttural moan. The way he reacted to your every movement, the way his body responded so naturally to yours, only encouraged you to go further.

As you moved, your hands found his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. The friction, the closeness—it all felt so perfect, like the two of you were made for this moment. His hands never left your body, guiding you, lifting you, as you moved together in sync. His breath was ragged now, his voice low and strained as he whispered your name, filling the space between groans of pleasure.

The pace quickened, and the tension between you built with every movement, each of you caught in a loop of need and desire. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, urging you on. Your bodies moved in perfect unison, your breath mingling with his, the closeness of it all making your heart race.

Your pace quickened even more as you felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you becoming almost desperate. His groans grew louder, and you knew he was close again—this time, you weren’t going to stop. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “I’ love you.”

With that, everything between you seemed to reach its peak. His body responded to yours in perfect rhythm, and together you chased your realease, both completely enveloped in the heat of each other. "I love you to sweetheart. So much.."he moaned as he came into you.

The rest of the night was spent in quiet bliss, the two of you wrapped in each other’s presence. Hugh’s exhaustion slowly faded as the night wore on, replaced by a calm contentment. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work or responsibilities, just you, and the warmth of the home you had created together.

As you both drifted off into sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that tonight had been exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter how hard the world was on him, there was always a place for him to rest, always a place where he was cherished. And that place was with you.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine smut #wolverine #marvel smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #hugh jackman x reader

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gumdropgamespot · 2 months ago

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🍭🍫🍬A treat (or three) to you; from me! 🍬🍭🍫

Snag these interactive bites from Pumpkin Honey Home and Gothic Living set (that will come... soon(ish)... in full!)

All of these have pack dependencies, so I'm hoping at least one will work for your game! 😅🧡

Delight in some autumnal tunes with a record player perfect for your cottage in the woods

Light an incense cone on the head of the littlest owl from the Growing Together sculpture, for some décor made functional

Hide your Simflix addiction with a television disguised as a fine art easel

Grab the ones that work, or grab them all! Happy Simblreen!

⬇ DL and Art Swatches Below ⬇

⬇ Grab at SimFileShare ⬇

Picnic Days Record Player (req. Outdoor Retreat)

If you want to decorate beyond the player, check out @budgie2budgie 's Old School Record Store Stuff (the records here were selected to match with their collection)

Feathered Family Incense Holder (req. Spa Day, intended for use with Growing Together pack)

The Art of Deception TV (req. Get Famous)

(I will eventually have a patreon post linked too… if simfileshare goes down, lmk and I’ll release the post early 😊)

#simblreen #simblreen 2024 #ts4 cc #ts4cc #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 outdoor retreat #the sims 4 spa day #sims 4 get famous #the sims 4 custom content #GumdropCC

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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Hiii!! I rlly love your work & I appreciate you! Ty for ur writing <3 I was wondering if you could do something where reader convinces Toji to let her do his makeup and and and and she straddles him while he’s laying down to do it 🥺 maybe reader gets a little confident n bratty bc of the position n it gets a little spicy ? if you’re feeling up to it ! 🌲💕 this is my first ask so please lmk if my etiquette is off!

Oh, no worries, noonie! Your etiquette is okay, and your request is so cute like wth!!? :00 I worked on this after coming back from my trip, so apologies if this doesn't seem to be in my usual writing style. Also, to make this funny, I tried makeup for the first time while I was away!! Lol, so the experience really came around for this ask, so I appreciate it and hope you like what I jotted down! Other than that, hope you had a wonderful weekend ♡

Cw: Toji x reader - fluff mostly, but it gets suggestive at the end - grinding (m! receiving) - thigh riding (?) - impact play/spanking (2x) - pet names (baby, princess, pumpkin) - putting makeup on Toji <3 - reader and Toji being adorbs omg stop hehehe~ Wc: 1k

"How long is this shit supposed to be?"

"Sit still, will you? I can't work with you constantly moving."

"Tch, you're lucky I'm lettin' you do this because of a bet."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Open your eyes so I can see how it looks." Begrudgingly, Toji opens his eyelids to reveal the emerald eyes you're familiar with. "Okay, close them again."

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon. You and your boyfriend hang out at your place to chill, spending time cuddled up on the couch and watching television. It was your usual weekend routine, being close o your boyfriend like this. However, today was different compared to the other relaxing days prior.

Here you are on your living room couch, straddling Toji's lap with your hands occupied by a palette of green and gold eyeshadow in one and a brush in the other. Reason why? About two days ago, Gojo and Toji got into an argument as they usually do, something about their favorite sports team going against each other. Your man then had the fantastic idea to bet on his team, saying he'll do whatever Gojo says if his team doesn't win.

Why was the idea fantastic? Frankly, it's no surprise to you and the snow-haired other that Toji cannot win a bet to save his life. So when the score showcased the apparent outcome of the older man's loss, Gojo took his win in playful pride. And the punishment? Well, mounting on top of him today should explain it.

"You know, you got a pretty nice eye shape. You're pulling this look off quite nicely." Dadding his closed eyelid with the brush, you paint lime green atop the dark green eyeshadow cascading around his eyes. You chose to do nothing too audacious for the man, as you're just taking pictures and sending them to Gojo afterward.

He scoffs at your comment. "You said that about twenty minutes ago with the other shit you put on me."

"Yeah, well, can't blame me for admiring my handsome man being so fetching. If I slapped a nice dress on you and headed to the club later, I'd bet you'd have a line of men and women trying to ask you out."

"You tryin' to say I'm hotter than you, pumpkin?" He lifts a brow and then snickers after you bonk him in the head with a white highlighter pen.

"Shut up and stay still so I can put this on." You use the pen to apply by the corner of his eyes. Now two white hearts are harbored close to the bridge of his nose. After asking him to open his eyes again, you maneuver around to ensure that both eyes are even. And you beam when you feel accomplished with what you've done. "Perfect! Alright, onto the next part."

"The liner thingy?"

"Yup!" He chortles at your enthusiasm while you grab the item from your makeup bag. Closing his eyes again, you work on the bottom of his lids to form a steady black wing that ventures out. You giggle; who knew doing makeup on your boyfriend would be so much fun? Maybe I should put him in a dress.

With a gleeful attitude and a merry hum, you swing your hips around as you work. But you halt when you feel Toji's hands come to your hips, and you stop moving.

"Hold on there, baby." Toji's hands rub your hips. "Movin' too fast."

It doesn't click you until you realize the position you're in. Your legs still slip apart to sit atop his lap, your bottom directly above his groin. And that's when an idea pops up in your head, unable to fight the grin sneaking up on your face.

Your hips move once more but in a slower motion this time. Toji opens the eye you're not working on to look at your face, but you don't acknowledge it and just continue applying the eyeliner.

"I know you heard me the first time." A silent giggle confirms his suspicions.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Close that eye up." He gives you a furrowed look, yet he does what you instructed, allowing you to examine your work before laying the black material on his other eye. And as your hips continue to apply pressure on his crotch, Toji groans at the motion.

"So you're just gonna act deaf on me, huh."

You bit your lip to conceal the giddiness in your smile. But then it's replaced with an abrupt shriek from your lips when a sudden smack of pain comes down on your ass. "Oww!! Hey, quit it!"

"Quit what?" Now it's his turn to act dumb, giving him a glare while Toji chuckles.

"Whatever. Let me finish this up." You grumble while laying the last strokes of your eyeliner, yet you still grind on Toji. And you can feel the tent of his sweatpants slowly protrude. After a few seconds, you close the eyeliner and put it into your bag. "Now for the final touch. Some cute lip gloss for you...Ahhhh!! Toji, stop it!"

"Then quit grindin' up on me, brat." he snarkily warns you, rubbing his hand on your ass after hitting it again.

"Why? Hate that I'm making you hot and bothered like this?" Your hips grind harder on his tent, and he exhales with scrunched brows. He scowls at you, lidded emerald eyes branding holes into yours. But you don't falter and resume acting tough. "Don't want me to give you attention for being so pretty?"

Before you get an answer, Toji grabs for your ass and shifts to stand up from the couch, and you scramble to warp your arms around his neck before you stumble off the older, muscular man. He walks out of the living room with your arms. And he throws you down to the bed of your room with a tiny 'oof' coming from you.

"You wanna give me some attention, huh?" Toji crawls up on the bed and kisses your lips while sliding a hand down in your leggings, fingers nestling and pushing onto your soaked panties. Your whimpers are taken by his mouth as he kisses your neck. The gloss on his lips leaves sticky marks where he places them. "How 'bout you sit there and look pretty fr' me, then?"

"Mmmph...At least, let me take a picture of your makeup," you say with eyes sewn shut. "Gotta send it to—Ahhmmm..."

"Later," Toji withdraws himself to take off his sweatpants. "In the meantime, lemme fuck the shit outta y'r cute and bratty ass, princess."

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forestfrolickingfairy78 · 1 month ago

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ITS FARMING SEASON - A song for my fav Ordanian boy, Twilight - yes it was inspired by SZA's big boy.

It’s farming season

And all the girls are leaving

To get a Country boy

I need a country boy

Give me a country boYyyY

It’s farming season

And now we got a reason,

to get a country boy

I want a country boy

Give me a country boy,

A country, country, COUNTRYyyyY BOY

I need a country boy

The one that works at Ordon goat farm,

He keeps me safe in a hyrule snow storm,

Wind chill is bitin but his wolf form keeps me warm and he can bring my pumpkins with just one arm

Till the moon rises I need a country boy cutie, he makes his own money by destroying pots for rupees,

for the next three months he’s out saving the world, but I don’t mind it because I’m his honey

Country boy with a secret mystery

H’e s Hyrule king, with a stacked inventory, goats cheese and lots of rupees even some frozen peas

Need a country man, because I’m a big fan, I hope he asks me to his wife

Cause I’m not messing with other boys who can ruin my life

It’s farming season,

And all the girls are leaving,

To to get a country boy,

I need a country boy,

Give me a country boYyyYY

It’s farming season and now we got a reason to get a country boy, I need a country boy, give me a country, country country boy

I actually wrote this last year and figured why the heck not post it here PFFFFF. Please credit me if you repost or reblog, i kind of put in effort in writing this LMAO. lmk if I should write one for the others.

#linked universe #zelda au #legend of zelda #twilight lu #song lyrics #song writing #the legend of zelda #i cant believe im posting this #pls #twilight princess #link twilight princess #lu warriors #lu legend

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soup-scope · 2 years ago

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My interpretation of the Seer Obscura/Morgan’s Listener!!!

Ok I gotta few things to explain. I thought it’d be hilarious to make them a food service worker because we need more tired customers service rep in the redacted verse. Yeah we have guy our fav pizza guy but... what about starbucks

Ik in canon, they’ll probably work an office job/a job at the department, but pls. Imagining them as a manager at Starbucks makes me cackle.

I honestly just thought the hair would be fun lmao. It’s a bitch to keep up with though so they spend many nights on their bathroom floor regretting their choices while the bleach sets in their hair.

They’re prolly a bit more gloomy cause they’re a seer, but I thought it’d be a lil giggle to just give them exhausted customer service worker vibes instead

Also cause it’d be funny for a Morgan, this big shot seer, to be pining over a Starbucks employee who drinks coffee straight from the machine

Also for the last slide, yes. That’s about David.

Also when the inversion happened they were probably at work so like. Getting inversion visions while working a 12-8 PM shift would send ME over the edge

Comfy clothes>>practicality

They’re 5’6” and they make it everyone’s problem.

Can’t wait until the seer gets their own lil nickname. I read a fan fiction where Morgan called them “pumpkin” so that’s canon to me until further notice. Anyways I hope we get more Morgan content cause I’m gonna smooch him AND his listener on their hot mouths.

Uhhh lmk which listener/redacted dude you’d wanna see my interpretation of next cause I’m indecisive 👍

Maybe freelancer is next

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #asmr boyfriend #boyfriend asmr #asmr rp #redacted seer #redacted seer obscura #redacted morgan #redacted art #redacted audio fanart #redacted fanart #redactedverse #rayrayart

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thankspete · 2 years ago

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The Patio (c.h.)

soooo hey :-) i don’t think i’ve written fic in like 7 years but here we are. this’ll be a series so be on the lookout for updates! (read: eventual smut. i swear to u) lmk if yall like it <3

This work is a part of a series, When Our Friend Isn’t Around. Part 1: The Patio / Part 2: The Kitchen / Part 3: The Living Room / Part 4: The Guest Bedroom

Word Count: 1.8k Rating: T Summary: You were looking forward to a breath of fresh air, but you didn't expect it to turn out like this. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: ~recreational drug use~

It all started off innocently enough. Some solace from the bumping music that seemed to make the walls vibrate, all of the strangers that seemed to know each other well. Besides, you’d rolled a joint while Ashton scrambled to set up the sound system, place snacks, and whatever else he was doing for this exact moment, this exact feeling.

You escape out the side door in the kitchen, to the patio. It’s set up too, with twinkling lights and a couple of adirondack chairs just waiting to host your friend’s inebriated guests. The grill is covered, maybe to prevent someone from setting this place on fire in a drunken stupor, and the umbrella over the small table is closed tightly. The early autumn evening air was dry, approximately sixty degrees. There’s a slight breeze that tickles the sweat that has begun to bead on the back of your neck and the coolness feels refreshing. You can still hear the music, but the sound is muffled and you’re unable to make out what song is playing right now. You lean on the wooden railing and sigh contentedly before digging in your pocket for the doob tube and lighter. The tube was easy to find, its smooth plastic pressing into your thigh all evening, practically taunting you. You pat your other pockets down, hoping to God you’d remembered to bring a lighter outside. Empty. Shit.

You sigh and turn on your heel to re-enter the house, the chaos and anxiety, with a confident plan in mind. There are lighters in the drawer by the sink, you think. A Clipper, a Zippo, and two BBQ lighters, at least… It was just a matter of squeezing through the small crowd surrounding the drinks station, easy. You walk up to the sliding glass door, but it opens before you’re able to reach for the handle. A dirty guitar sound from a Nirvana song you’d heard before but couldn’t name leaked out into the quiet night.

“Hey,” Calum smiles at you warmly, but blocks your path inside. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

You smile sheepishly and motion the joint at him. “But I forgot a lighter.”

His grin widens at you while he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tiny green Bic. “Seems like I got what you’re lookin’ for. Care if I join you?”

You nod and both return to the railing, leaning onto it. You use the lighter to pumpkin-top the end of your joint before lighting it. “So,” you breathe the smoke in deeply, holding for a moment in your lungs. “Ashton send you to find me? Make sure I’m not in a ditch somewhere?” You glance up at Calum before taking another hit and passing it to him. Despite your looking away, he keeps his gaze focused on your face even while he brings the joint to his lips.

“No.” Another hit.

You raise your eyebrows at him while he places the joint between your index and middle fingers.

“That shit tastes good. Is it dispo stuff or what?” He changes the topic.

“I roll with lavender,” you say, joint hanging off your lips. You almost think you see him glance down at your mouth when you say it. “Cuts the weed, but smells incredible,” you shrug.

He reaches to grab the joint straight from your mouth before taking another hit and putting it back where he found it. If you were sober, it’d probably been really annoying.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he turns to face you, lips curled into a small, playful smile.

“The fuck do you mean?” You laugh before inhaling once more, starting to feel that familiar, comfortable pressure behind your forehead.

Calum puts his right elbow on the railing, arm reaching in your direction. “What’re doing out here alone?”

“I told you already, Calum! And you so graciously provided me with a lighter. My hero.” You pretend to swoon and bring the jay back to your lips.

His lips press together and you try to ignore how soft they look. It must be the tequila talking. “I guess I meant the alone part. Having fun tonight?”

You pass the joint back to him and sigh. “It’s a little freaky I guess. I know like one and a half people here. Ashton and, well, I guess you’re the half, Calum.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling. “I would’ve guessed I would be three-fourths.” You’re glad he didn’t take it personally.

You had been friends with Ashton for five months and only ever really hung out with each other. You smoked, taught him how to skateboard, and watched shitty adult animation series together most of the time. You knew he had plenty of other friends, sure, but you weren’t expecting to have to meet all of them at once. All but one. He introduced you to Calum last week, when they decided they wanted to throw a rager. He was nice enough and certainly easy on the eyes, but making new friends always came hard to you.

“I mean, maybe now…” You grin and reach for the joint, nestled comfortably in his fingers.

“Keep it.” He glances at you, shooting a small grin in your direction before reaching into his jacket pocket. You’re puzzled until you see it, held carefully between his pointer and thumb: another joint.

It makes you a little giggly, thinking he was just as prepared as you were. Maybe making new friends isn’t so bad after all.

He raises his eyebrow at you after lighting the end, notably using your pumpkin-top method from earlier. You finish your jay at the same time he starts his. “What’s so funny?”

“You really had one ready in your pocket, then smoked mine and said nothing about it? I’m starting to think you didn’t come out here to see what I was up to at all, just coincidentally had the same plan as me.” You drop your finished joint over the railing and playfully nudge his boot with your shoe.

“Two things can be true at once, sweetheart.” He places the new joint between your lips and relights it as you pull. “No lavender in mine, though.”

You grumble your thanks before wrapping your mouth around the filter again, keeping an eye on how his fingers remained around the jay, practically feeding it to you.

You’re feeling it now, like really feeling it.

“So how’s your night going?”

He motions to the two empty chairs to the left of the sliding glass door. “Let’s sit.”

So you do, pulling your legs up and tucking your feet beneath you.

“It’s been good. Seen some guys I haven’t hung out with in a while.” He takes a hit. It’s not weird to watch him as he smokes, but God does it feel like something. “I’m technically supposed to be keeping an eye on Joey right now, broke some shit last time we threw a few months ago.” He takes another. “But I think Ashton’s got that handled right now.” He cocks a smile in your direction and reaches his hand, holding the joint, over the armrest of your chair. “D’you want?”

You didn’t mean to do it, not really, but your mind is foggy from the weed and your actions are more impulsive than you thought they could be at your level of drunk. You lean your head down to his hand, taking the joint in your mouth and brushing your lips against his fingers momentarily.

He’s a little perplexed, but he’s looking at you endearingly. “Need help with that?”

“Fuck you.” You shake your head and blow smoke in his direction.

“All you had to do was ask,” he laughs and brings the jay back to your lips. “Need me to tell you when to suck, too?”

Your stomach churned a bit at his choice of words and the tips of your ears started to heat up. Internally, you were fucking reeling, but you just rolled your eyes and took the hit without needing any further assistance. The ember is nearing the filter and the hot smoke burns your throat enough to elicit a small cough.

“I’m done.” You motion his hand away and lean back into your seat. “Thanks, Cal.” It was a slip of the tongue, something you’d heard Ashton call him. Do I know him like that?

“Thank you, for the company,” he counters. “And the lavender. Gotta try that shit.” He smiles at you before finishing the joint and flicking the remnants off the porch, into the darkness.

Calum looks at you for a moment before asking, “Did’ya wanna go back in?”

You instinctively obfuscate your face from his view with your arm and drop your eyes from his gaze before shaking your head.

“Didn’t think so.” He leans into the chair and when you peek at him from behind your sleeve, the fucker is grinning like you were setting up some joke for him. There was something behind the expression on his face that you couldn’t really place.

You couldn’t help it by this point, really. The two joints were settling well in your mind and maybe you really could place some blame on the shots you and Ashton took an hour ago.

He’s very pretty.

Calum tilts his head at you, suddenly making you self conscious of how long you’ve been looking at him. Time moves slow when you’re high, anyway. It seems like he’s expecting you to say something. You pull your arms down from your face, around your knees.

“Would you ever get a nose ring?”

And he laughs. Head tilted back, hand over stomach laugh. “Would you… ever get a nose ring?” He’s looking at you now and you wonder if this feeling in your gut is what he felt just a few moments ago, under your inspection.

“I–well… would you?” You shrug, a little annoyed that he didn’t seem to take the question seriously.

“Maybe.” He leans his elbow on the armrest closest to you, slotting his nail between his teeth. They’re painted black.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you say to him with the same tone he did to you earlier this evening. How long has it been? Fifteen minutes? An hour?

It’s his turn to shrug this time, sitting back and reinstating the space between you. “Depends.” You wish he’d wipe that amused look off his face, already.

“What if I did it?”

“What if you pierced my nose?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you like…is that your job?”

“I, uh…no. I’ve pierced my friends before.”

“Their noses?”

“Ears.”

Calum leans his forearms on the armrest again and you feel compelled to shift closer to him. You can tell this is fun for him. You can’t tell if it’s fun for you, yet.

He cracks a toothy smile. “I’m just not sure the anatomy is comparable.”

The sliding door opens with a soft whoosh behind you and a familiar voice calls out to you both. A Still Woozy song is playing this time.

“What’re you guys doing out here? Shit, did you smoke without me!?”

hope u enjoyed this lil thang! next part (or the part after) will be spicy. i promise <3 as always i appreciate feedback likes n reblogs!

#calum hood x reader #calum hood oneshot #calum hood imagine #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #i think theyre flirting but idk what that is or looks like so #i feel like im 15 again

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deerwith2heads · 1 year ago

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10.5.23

all I wanna do is dance!!! hi i cried three times today in my film class because the movie was sad and then my bible verse of the day app told me to "rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, [and to] be constant in prayer." (romans 12:12 I think?) so.... I got off of my lazy ass and starting rejoicing and then i became PRODUCTIVE!!!!!!! okkkk so I taught my boyfriend to play the game of life during lunch, i gossiped in 6th period and then I applied to college 4 hours during rehearsal when bored. I also have an interview for a rly good college tmrw so somebody remind me to do good on it. I planned a date with my bf and we are gonna make strawberry shortcake for his family!!! I am super excited because I luv strawbs and I rly rly want his family to like me. he says they love me but I find them super hard to read and he has heavy bias (not like I don't). I also tried the new pumpkin decadent bars they have at publix and omg they taste gross on the first bite and it just gets better n better. when my dad picked me up from school we had to go to my work (grocery) and my coworker (one I've only seen and have never spoken to...grocery stores are big ok...) was flirting with me about how he hasn't seen me around lately??????? he looks like the boy from american beauty which is cool ig but it was gross bc i have a bf i am very much in love with. also i am not proofreading before i post this so i apologize if it sucks. lmk.

that's a photo of the american beauty teen characters for ref if you haven't seen it. it's my fave movie of all time tho so you should watch it anyways

xxx - love ya

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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year ago

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(Rip Lucifer 👀)

These damn events come in left and right ughhhh I'm dyingggg. I just want Mammonnnn 😭

That's fair! It's a big game. Childe, Itto and Neuvilette are so fine 🥴🥴 it's a true addiction. But def lmk!!

I had sooo much. Turkey, stuffing, Rice w gandules (type of bean/pea iirc) potato salad, sweet potatoes, baked Mac, biscuits and pumpkin pieee!! WBU?? We just ate bc I worked the day after.

Omg! That's great I'm so glad you got it!! That's great honestly I hope it treats you well! As for requestssss idk Mammon 🥺 I love him sm.

-Angsty Anon

Ngl I've been so far behind in NBs story mode 💀

oh man that all sounds so delicious I'm glad you got some bomb ass food !! Especially arroz con gandules!?!?! YESSSSSS!!! Ugh and baked MAC!?

I just had steak, stuffing, and mashed potatoes 💀 (just me and my partner you see) but I'm hoping to make some pernil, arroz con gandules, and potato salad soon! 😩 I had to work at midnight that day so I wanted to spend it relaxing before going in for black Friday. 😭

Yeah I've been enjoying it so far, still getting use to some of the settings and stuff, it's been years since I've owned an apple product, ack.

Sure, one mammon coming up! I'm gonna post it right after this! >:3

#✩ — the star: angsty anon!

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violescent-scrolls · 3 years ago

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Calling The Haikyuu Boys ‘Dude/Bro’

Pairings: Sakusa x Reader, Oikawa x Reader, Kenma x reader (reader is gender neutral in all three!)

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of insecurities in Kenma’s but honestly this is mostly just straight up fluff, attempt at humor

A/N: AHH this is my first time writing for most of these characters (I’ve only written for Sakusa once before) so I hope they’re not OOC. These were fun so if you’d like to see these for a particular haikyuu character lmk and I’ll try my hand at writing for them

Kiyoomi Sakusa

This man will not hesitate to shut this down immediately.

Scoffs and grimaces in disgust at your words.

Literally acts as if you sneezed on him or something smh.

Will ask you not to call him that ‘cause he’s your boyfriend, not your *gags and shudders* bro.

Will get very blushy and flustered if you tease him about it.

“Bro, you’ll never believe what I just found!” you exclaimed as you rushed over to your boyfriend, Kiyoomi, who was pushing along the grocery cart as he diligently followed you around, occasionally stopping to pick up items that piqued his interest. You were carrying a handful of disinfectant wipes with a proud look on your face. “They’ve got a buy one get one free offer for the lemon-scented wipes you like so much. What a steal, right? We’re almost out of them at home so I think we should stock up while we’ve got the chance. There were more but I couldn’t really carry them all by myself so I figured we could go back together.”

You were shocked to find your boyfriend scowling. You were so sure he’d be even more thrilled than you were, considering how fast he went through his cleaning supplies. You were even more shocked when he lifted his hand to flick your forehead, not nearly hard enough to hurt, but enough for you to let out an indignant ‘Hey! What was that for?!”

“Don’t call me that. I’m your boyfriend, not your bro.” He damn near whined out. “How would you like it if I called you bro?”

Instead of answering his question, you took this as an opportunity to tease your usually oh-so-stoic-and-unbothered boyfriend.

“Awww, Omi” you gushed, “your wish is my command. What would you prefer I call you? Love? Honey? What about dear? Oh, I know! Sweetie pie! Or how about pumpkin? Perhaps even my beloved?”

The more embarrassing nicknames you suggested, the more flustered your Omi got. While the bottom half of his face was covered, you could clearly see the tips of his ears turn an adorable shade of pink.

“You’re intolerable.” He groaned out, readjusting his mask in an attempt to hide his red face.

He pushed the cart leaving you in the frozen food aisle with about 12 disinfectant wipe containers clutched in your hands.

“Omi! Love! Wait for me! I don’t wanna carry these anymore, they’re so heavy,” you whined out.

“Should have thought about that before being such a brat, babe,” he shouted with a smirk, though he slowed down so you could catch up to him at the end of the aisle, his chest feeling all warm and fuzzy.

Toru Oikawa

Please, he is so dramatic.

Will go all out on the theatrics. Waterworks, whines, the works.

By the end of the interaction you’ll be so done with him you’ll regret your slip up.

One thing’s for sure, you’re never calling him dude or bro ever again.

He’s so embarrassing but you love him so…

You were at the mall doing some window shopping with your boyfriend, Toru, when all of a sudden something caught your eye.

“Bro, look at that shirt and pants combo. Pretty cute, right? Maybe I could wear it next time we go out with our old classmates. I wonder if they have my-”

You were quickly interrupted by Oikawa who let out a gasp loud enough to catch the attention of several people walking by. He held his right arm up to his chest, placing his hand where his heart is located, and looked away from you woefully. Drama queen.

“Dude, what the fuck?” you asked, feeling embarrassed by all the stares. You tried to get him to stop calling so much attention to the pair of you by dragging him along but he only huffed at you.

“Y/N-chan!” Oikawa whined out, “Don’t call me those names. They’re so unromantic. I’m your boyfriend, not some ‘dude’. People will think we’re not together.”

“People will have a real reason to think that if you don’t stop causing a scene,” you warned, crossing your arms. Though both of you knew your threat was as empty as threats could get, you really did want him to shut up so people would stop staring and giggling.

“Don’t say that! You’re always so mean to me, the man you love,” he sniffed, finally looking at you. “There are so many other things you could call me.”

“Like what?” you asked, “Shittykawa?”

Toru let out a scandalized gasp. “Y/N! You’re being so mean to your boyfriend. You’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan. He’s such a bad influence.”

He was being so loud right now you could feel the burning stares of everyone around you.

“Toru! You’re being embarrassing right now,” you hissed. You weren’t really mad at him, more so mildly irritated by his childish behavior. After all, you loved your boyfriend very much, theatrics and all.

Toru finally let you drag him to the shop that had caught your eye, but only when you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

For the rest of your visit to the mall, Oikawa kept proposing nicknames you could use for him instead of ‘dude’ or ‘bro’, each one more ridiculous than the last.

“How about… love? My one and only setter? Wait! I’ve got the perfect one. Snookums.”

Kenma Kozume

His reaction would be the most subdued of them all.

That’s not to say the nickname wouldn’t bother him, rather he would let the interaction stew in his brain over hours as he agonized over what you called him.

It won’t be until later when you’re both at home that he tentatively brings up the subject, quietly asking you not to call him that again.

Will probably act like it's not a big deal and it doesn’t bother him but it really does.

He’s literally everything, please reassure him and give him cuddles and call him cute nicknames.

This was one of those rare occasions when the two of you (mainly Kenma) willingly went out to the mall. A part of his computer’s cooling system had been giving him problems and he had a 24-hour charity stream in two days and he really couldn’t afford to have his computer failing him halfway through. Usually, he’d order these things online but with such short notice and his preferred company for buying these sorts of things being overseas, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get the computer fixed in time. So, with a lack of enthusiasm and you there for moral support, he left the comfort of your shared apartment in search of the nearest reliable electronics shop.

It really wasn’t so bad. It was a Monday morning so there weren’t many people there. He’d been recognized by one or two people but they’d been nice enough, simply saying hi and leaving them be.

While he looked at different pieces, looking for the right one, you’d wandered off to look at the videogames area.

“Dude! Look what they have,” you exclaimed, shoving the slim box with the words ‘Pokémon Legends: Acerus’.

He smiled at your excitement, looking at you fondly as you continued to ramble enthusiastically about the game.

“Bro, I’ve been dying to play this game for ages. I heard the gameplay is totally different from that of the other games. A streamer I was watching the other day said she loved it and she’s got similar tastes to you so I think you’d enjoy it too. Do you think we buy two copies or just share one? You know what, I think we should just get two ‘cause I heard it was kind of addictive and you know how we both get when it comes to video games.”

Kenma nodded in agreement telling you to grab another one and meet him back here so the two of you could pay. He had the computer part he wanted in his hands thanks to an employee who’d been kind enough to notice he was having trouble finding what he wanted, despite Kenma feeling too anxious to request his assistance.

“Woah, your friend’s pretty passionate about videogames, huh? That’s really cute,” the employee commented, something akin to interest shining in his eyes.

Kenma’s skin pricked uncomfortably. Why on Earth would that employee say that? To your boyfriend, no less. The way the guy said that didn’t really sound platonic. Did he- did he think you were single?

All of a sudden, it hit him. You’d called him ‘bro’ and ‘dude’. Those weren’t exactly terms of endearment. To the employee, you probably looked like you were just friends.

You came back with two copies of the game and Kenma quickly dragged you to the cash register before the man could start a conversation with you.

You were worried about how quiet Kenma was on the ride home. Kenma was a quiet person, sure, but when it came to you conversation would flow naturally. Something was obviously bothering the poor man but after dating him for so long and being friends for even longer, you knew better than to pry. He’d tell you what was bothering him when he was ready and any attempts to get him to talk about it before he was ready would only make him act distant.

And you were right, of course. A few hours later you were sitting on the couch of his streaming room, playing the game you had just bought on your switch while Kenma fiddled with his newly repaired PC.

“Hey, Y/N?” Kenma quietly called out to you after a while, voice tentative.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You asked, saving your progress and putting away the consol so you could give him your undivided attention.

“In the future, could you maybe not call me dude or bro?” he asked in a faux nonchalant tone.

Being his long-term significant other, you immediately saw through him.

“Yeah of course. Can I ask why?” you watched as he messed with his setup, lowering his head so that his hair shielded away most of his face from your view.

“It’s nothing,” Kenma mumbled. You could tell he was trying to find the right words, however, so you patiently waited for him to continue. “It's just that… people might think we’re not together if you call me that and I don’t think I like that. Actually, I know I don’t.”

Upon hearing your boyfriend’s words, you were quick to rush over to him and sit on his lap with your face just a few inches away from his.

“Of course, Kenken! I’m so sorry, I honestly didn’t even notice that I called you that. I was so caught up in the game. I’ll never call you that again, though, I promise,” You reassured, kissing the tip of his nose and cuddling up to him in the way you knew he liked.

The rest of the day was spent in a similar manner, with you showering Kenma with affirmations and love and Kenma looking at you with nothing short of pure unadulterated adoration

#sakusa x reader #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfiction

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class1aplace · 2 years ago

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What I think Danganronpa V3 characters would be allergic to and what kind of sneeze they would have

All of the stuff below is my HCs, so you don’t have to agree. Only doing some characters

Shuichi: Dust. The man’s your average anime protagonist, did you really expect anything else? Also has the typical “ah-choo” sneeze. Uses his elbow/sleeve to cover it

Kaede: I don’t think she’d be allergic to anything TBH. She just doesn’t seem like a person who has allergies. Soft “ah-choo” but still stereotypical. Uses a handkerchief

Kaito: Mold/Musty smells. The guy will just refuse to enter a room that smells like that. And he doesn’t have to, he’s got his sidekick Shuichi to do that! Loud and frightening sneeze. Made Shuichi and Maki jump the first time they heard it. Covers with the back of his wrist or his hand (I hope you’re washing your hands after that Kaito, cause if not)

Kee-bo: Nothing??? He wasn’t programmed for this action/sensitivity. Also, does he have smell receptors? Like, does his nose work?

Miu: Pollen. You dare bring flowers into her lab, she won’t hesitate to slip some kind of revenge invention in your room that night. Loud sneeze, but not as loud as Kaito’s. Doesn’t cover her mouth. Sneezes over her shoulder, so be careful not to stand behind her

Maki: Paint fumes? Like the smell of when you just paint a room and all you can smell is paint. Walked into Angie’s lab and walked right back out. Silent sneeze. She’s the Ultimate Assassin after all! Holds her breath or uses her wrist

Kokichi: Perfume/Body sprays. You know those kids who spray the ‘Pumpkin spice latte’ body spray in the locker rooms to make it not smell so much like sweat? Miu tried that and convinced Gonta to use it in the boy’s locker room because then he’d “be one step closer to being a true gentleman”. Yeah, Kokichi basically had to be taken out of the room by Shuichi and Kirumi did a whole scrub of the locker room to get the smell out. Has an oddly cute kitten sneeze that Kaito, Tenko, Himiko, and Miu never let him live it down. Doesn’t cover his sneeze. Weather that is on purpose or not nobody knows, but his head jerks forward enough that he basically is facing the ground

Angie: None. Her working with all of the strong smelling paints and art supplies kinda made her immune to the stuff around TAFGJ (The Academy for Gifted Juveniles). Is always the one to say ‘bless you’, but she says “Atua blesses you”. It was very funny to hear her say it after Kokichi’s locker-room-perfume experience.

That’s all I have for now! I tried to do stuff that would be found in the DrV3 Campus, but if you want any others, lmk!

#danganronpa #kaede akamatsu #killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #drv3 shuichi #drv3 kokichi #kokichi headcanons #danganronpa headcanons #kaito momota #angie yonaga #Kee-bo #miu iruma #k1 b0 #maki harukawa #Sneeze #HC #headcanon #drv3 killing harmony #drv3 headcanons

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lonslibrary · 4 years ago

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3 moments between the crow couples during their time at hogwarts

1. an unknown part of wylan and jesper’s somewhat disastrous amortentia story comes moments after jesper pulled wylan in for a kiss by his tie, causing the rest of their classmates to erupt in cheers and applause so loud that professor snape’s “boys! in the hall, now!” went unheard. minutes later, when they had actually been led out of the classroom to wait for their punishment, wylan finally worked up the courage to meet jesper’s eyes, his face almost as red as his hair. jesper’s grin was radiant. “so. butterbeer and my cologne, huh?”

it took all of wylan’s nerve to not sink into the ground where he stood. “i didn’t know today’s lesson was on amortentia,” he muttered, feeling himself flush again.

it took all of jesper’s will not to kiss the younger again right there where he stood with the way the redhead was looking up at him from beneath his long lashes.

“well, what about you?” wylan demanded, rolling his eyes. “let me guess. cards, pumpkin juice, and galleons?”

“no, actually.” jesper replied, spinning his wand in his hand. “i smell grass. gunpowder. and...”

he took a step closer to wylan who stood still, holding his breath. “...and?” the third year asked quietly.

“exploding elixir.”

wylan’s mind shut down.

“the entire room was filled with the same smell from that day we singed snape’s hair,” jesper snorted. “of all things, we had to mess up the potion that smelled like burnt-”

it was wylan who pulled jesper down this time, reaching up on his tippy toes to meet jesper’s soft lips, the ones that had captivated him from the moment he had walked into the potions classroom and saw his new lab partner for the first time.

“fahey, van eck!” snape burst into the hallway. “does it seem possible to keep your hands off of each other?”

“sorry, prof.” jesper winked, eyes still trained on wylan’s mouth. “guess you can say we’ve got...chemistry.”

wylan couldn’t even bring himself to care about detention.

2. nina stifled a laugh, trying to keep a straight face as she watched matthias scan the inside of zonko’s joke shop. she had just gotten matthias to admit that he enjoyed a drink as sweet as butterbeer, hours earlier at the three broomsticks. “you look like you��re inside the shrieking shack, not a joke shop.” nina snickered at the way matthias perked up.

“whatever the shrieking shack is, i think that there’d be more dignity in such a place than...this.” matthias dropped a dungbomb he had picked up like it had personally offended his grandmother.

“why?” nina giggled. she shook the box in her hand. “not a fan of ton-tongue toffees?”

matthias made a face that looked like he was more than just not a fan. “if it’s anything like those jelly beans you fed me on the train, then no.”

that only made nina laugh harder. “i swear you picked the worst ones! you should’ve seen your face when you tried the rotten egg flavor.”

matthias cracked a smile, relaxing a little amongst the colorful store and his girlfriend’s laughter. he picked up another product, a pink bottle corked at the top. “what does this one do?”

nina lowered her voice, gesturing for matthias to come closer, as if letting him in on a secret. “that one’s a love potion. one drop of it in someone’s drink and they’re yours,” she whispered. “they’ll think about you all day.”

matthias jerked away, putting the bottle back on the shelf. “you can’t be serious. love can’t be made like that!” he sputtered.

“i don’t know, durmstrang,” nina teased. “what if i bought one and slipped some in your pumpkin juice tomorrow at breakfast?”

matthias only crossed his arms, continuing to grimace. “well, that wouldn’t work at all.”

“why not? zonko’s is pretty reliable when it comes to their products.” she said pointedly, looking at the extendable ears on sale.

“because i’m already in love with you.” matthias stated simply.

nina froze, turning to her boyfriend. during her time dating matthias, the hufflepuff had proven to be narrow minded and straightforward as a broom doing any and every thing. it was moments like these she was reminded that this included during his expressions of affection, and nina couldn’t love him more for it.

“i’m in love with you, too.” she declared, slipping her hand into her boyfriend’s. she had always liked...brooms. “now, come on. i want to see if we can get kaz to fall for a trick wand.”

3. all inej had wanted was a quiet place to study that wasn’t the library. she liked to practice with her wand for transfiguration, and magic wasn’t allowed in the library. she had been wandering the school for an empty classroom or quiet corner when the room of requirement had appeared at the end of a hallway, exactly moments before she was about to give up and return to the gryffindor common room. she was only half surprised when she opened the door and saw kaz, but like always, kaz hadn’t seemed surprised at all when she entered. he sat on top of a desk with his cane leaned against it, wand out, in the middle of a silent spell. inej let her eyes trail over his robe perched on a chair, his gloves off and set aside in a rare moment, and his uniform sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

“first time here?” kaz asked, not looking up from the book in his lap. his rough voice echoed slightly in the large room as inej scanned her surroundings. the room was empty besides a couple of desks and chairs in one corner, a cluttered pile of objects in another, and a big wardrobe that looked ages old. a fireplace on the wall kept the room warm, and a small chandelier hung above inej’s head.

“guess i didn’t require much until now.” inej shrugged, pulling a desk and chair of her own towards the center of the room. “you?”

kaz closed his book, finally looking up at inej. “i come and go when i want.”

inej wanted to know more about what had revealed the room to kaz in the first place, but she redirected the question away from kaz himself, knowing it was unlikely he would answer. “get anything out of it?” with kaz, it was all about gain.

kaz drummed his fingers on his desk. inej tried not to stare. “some crying first years with who miss their mums. i think i’ve witnessed a bit of every couple in the school’s snogging.” he pulled out a handful of extendable ears from his robe pocket. “snape’s planning something. don’t know the details yet, but something big.”

inej nodded. part of her expected kaz to leave, speak with his silence as he tended to do, but he continued to sit and look at inej, book in lap. inej knew him well enough to recognize that while it wasn’t exactly an invitation, kaz wasn’t saying no to a conversation. she could’ve started with a less risky question about snape’s plans, or asked for the names of the couples in their year, just to know, but inej was curious about other things.

“and how did you find this place, kaz?”

“the de kappel painting.” he said casually. “i needed a place to hide it.”

inej froze, taken aback by kaz’s answer. or more accurately, his willingness to answer. “so it’s true?” she questioned, hoping her voice didn’t give away her surprise. “the gringotts vault rumor.” she had half believed them to begin with, knowing kaz’s abilities but never his motives. still, kaz had never confirmed it with anyone as far as she had known.

“true enough.” kaz reopened his book, attention back on the page. inej inwardly sighed. the satisfaction of knowing kaz trusted her enough to confirm the gringotts rumor didn’t last long. figures kaz wouldn’t want to talk much about himself.

“but that’s a story for next time.” kaz flipped a page, the slightest start of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

next time, inej turned over in her head. she tried not to smile as she opened her own book. she could work with next time.

author’s note (pls read!) this is my first time on tumblr so idk how to use it too well but i’m overwhelmed by all the nice responses so thank you all so, so much. i see everything!! idk if there’s like poll mechanisms and stuff on tumblr (argh help) but i wanted to gauge what everyone would like next—im deciding between six of crows x pjo or shadow and bone x harry potter, so comment below what you’d like to see first (: i’d also love to hear abt any personal requests so my dms (is that what they’re called here?) are open for suggestions. no promises, but lmk if there’s something you want to read. feel free to get as niche as you want, respectfully! ok ik this is super long god bless your soul if u actually read the entire thing but finally, i just wanted to introduce myself—i’m lynn, this is my library and i dabble in most fandoms! my goal is to get at least one piece of writing out every month, so if you’d like to read what i write, follow along! OK im finally done, i swear. thank you again for the tremendous support. unbelievable. happy reading!

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synonymroll648 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi please talk about any fic your writing/want to write to get me back in the writing mood

(Only if you want to no pressure)

[ids in alt. note to readers: the ask photos are in chronological order of when they were sent, and the ask that's being answered is the most recent.]

kay scrolling back through my notifs to see what i'd missed while i was off working on my homework (that i still need to finish lol) and let me tell you. seeing that you'd sent me seven asks (haven't answered the frog ask yet, but i'll get to it, i promise) in the few hours i'd been gone made me laugh pretty hard. which isn't meant to be discouraging!! people chatting me up is fun!

i decided to address everything except for the frog ask in one go, so here we are. i'll try to go in chronological order, but we'll see how that goes. putting my screamings under the cut. (edit: apparently having the shorten long posts setting on just. eradicates the cut. i swear i put it right beneath this paragraph, even if you don’t see it)

wanting to write but not having the energy to write is such a mood. far too relatable. and hello to you too :)

i actually started this fitz-centric keeptober fic because one of the mods for the massive kotlc ten year anniversary month event that's coming up in october (dearest mod, if you're reading this, you know exactly who you are. drink water king, you're amazing) reached out to me and was like (paraphrased) 'hey. do you wanna have two slots/days in the keeptober event? you pick a character and your own prompt for each day and then show us what you've made when the time rolls around, if you're up for it,' and ofc i said yes.

i won't drop what prompts i picked yet, but since you now know the fic i'm writing is fitz-centric and that i only picked one character for my two days, i think it's clear who my character was. i'd actually selected my prompts and such a little before frizzle was like 'hey can i please use writing exchanges with you as motivation' which was my cue to start actually writing the fic. anyway! i'm glad that i've roped you into fic writing for keeptober! even if there's not a free day or a prompt day that fits what you write, i'm sure there's at least someone out there that would love to see what you make.

kay. my dude. you're asking The Sokeefitz Person on tumblr whether or not you should do sokeefitz or sophiana. both ships are amazing, but i think it's fairly reasonable to say that i am almost always going to choose sokeefitz over every other ship option at every opportunity. so i'd start with sokeefitz first, and then if you have time, go for a sophiana fic.

you assumed correctly!! also, having them go pumpkin picking is such a good idea. i can see so so many possibilities there - lmk if you need ideas, i can certainly spam you with a ton. also, if you want me to beta for you, hmu! i wouldn't mind helping you out /gen

finally, the ask that i'm actually answering, according to tumblr formatting. if that makes sense. i hope that makes sense.

ok so this is actually perfectly timed in terms of where i'm at in the writing process of the fitz-centric fic, because i usually have a better idea of what i'm doing than i do right now. sorry not sorry for not being able to give specifics, but i refuse to spoil this fic ahead of time. i want y'all to walk in almost blind for this bad boy.

i'm not one for written linear outlines most of the time, but typically, i have a timeline in my head that's clear enough that i'm ok 'winging' it. my fics and au's are all categorized as 'timelines' in my head. unless fics take place in the same universe (ex: the sokeefitz roadtrip fic, the prequel where they got together, and the other fic where it's biana's pov of growing up in the vacker family and how it changes when fitz leaves, plus her straightn't relationship with maruca. i haven't talked about the latter two fics on here before, so if they don't ring a bell, that's why), none of the ideas cross over with each other. they're neatly compartmentalized.

but here's the thing: i'm sure that a lot of those fics will never get written and published to a place where fellow fandom members can see it, but there's some excellent ideas that i don't want to waste. which is where this fic comes in - this fic, as soon as i started writing, demanded that i take a significant portion of these ideas that i had carefully compartmentalized into boxes that didn't touch one another, and dump them together into an emotional soup. and i get why; all the ideas i'm thinking of have a common narrative theme, and so they'd blend together. but having my writing process turned on its head like that, having myself pick through different universes for the best scenes to throw together into one fic... it's throwing me for a loop, dude. i have no idea how far i'm going to go with this, and it's kinda giving me an 'ohhhhhh ho ho ho i am. so in over my head. time to have my ass kicked by something that's supposed to be under my control' feeling.

this fic in itself, from a writer's pov, is a veeeeeery sketchy experiment. it's like i'm taking donated organs from different creatures with specific original functions to try to and make a new creature that uses those organs differently than originally intended. it's a very delicate operation. very daunting to go into. i'm gonna have to brainstorm more to see what fits and what doesn't - i haven't done my index card brainstorming yet, which is a big part of my initial process, so hopefully doing that and swapping them around into a new timeline will make this a lot less scary and more the fun 'do whatever feels right' project that i first imagined it to be when i gave myself this prompt.

i'll probably sending mutuals (you included) out-of-context asks to determine different plot aspects of this, knowing me. so look out for those ;)

#ask #winterfireice #i would tag as the fitz-centric fic. but that makes no sense to anyone but me

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hysteriium · 4 years ago

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 ��𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

351 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 4 years ago

Text

niagara falls

TW: past thoughts of suicide, drinking, car accident (not involving reader), pining (lmk if i missed anything plz)

Summary - spencer explodes on reader after coming to a realization, and reader decides to take a much needed vacation - away from him.

WC - 5,305

masterlist

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"i don't understand why you're like this!" spencer shouted as he slung his satchel off his shoulder and onto the couch. "why do you even care?!"

"why do i care?!" you scoffed. "you seriously aren't asking me that, spencer," you rolled your eyes in disbelief. "because i care about you. that's why i care. i'm so sorry my caring about you is an inconvenience," you sarcastically apologized, throwing your hands up in frustration as he sat down on the couch with his head laying in his hands.

"you're just so overbearing sometimes, y/n. i can't handle it right now!" he yelled, finally pulling his head up to meet your gaze only to find your eyes welling up with tears. "are you seriously crying right now?" he chuckled as he rolled his eyes once again.

"spencer please... just tell me why you're so upset right now. i want to help you," you pleaded, trying to calm yourself down as you sat on his couch beside him, placing a hand gently on his knee.

"well maybe i don't want your help! i never asked you to help me!" he slung your hand off his knee as he rose to his feet once again.

"why won't you let me help you? i'm your friend, spence. i want to help you... please," you admitted as a year slipped down your cheek.

"i don't want your help! i don't want you here! i don't want to be near you! i wish you died when the unsub took you. i should've let him just finish the fucking job!" he yelled, running a hand through his hair as he turned away from you. "i mean it seemed like you wanted to die anyways because of your carelessness. your stupidity! so why don't you do just that?" he walked into his kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water.

you stayed silent, unaware of what to do with what he just admitted. your best friend just said he wished you had died. he wished you had been killed.

you didn't know what to do, but you knew you didn't want to stay with him for one more second. you were done trying to help him through whatever was going on.

so you got up and left. you walked out of his door and slowly made your way to the car, still trying to process what just happened.

spencer looked up when he heard his door softly shut. he grabbed his water and walked into the living room, only to find you not there anymore.

then he finally processed what he had said, himself. he said he wished you had died. he told you he wanted you dead.

he went to his room, not bothering with anything else at that point, and laid down on his bed. spencer felt guilty about what he had said, but he was sure you wouldn't want to see him.

but you would've done anything to see him. you waited inside your car, outside of his building for nearly half an hour just hoping he'd come down.

you wanted him to apologize, or to say he didn't mean it, anything that would suggest he didn't mean what he had said.

but he didn't come down.

you even saw as his lights turned off in his apartment, signaling his sleep, before you decided to drive off.

which leads to you now.

you were at a bar after calling penelope and emily, jj wasn't able to make it because of will and the kids. you were still in your work clothes, but managed to clean up the makeup that had began to streak down your face.

when the two girls got there, you had already been through a couple drinks within the past twenty minutes waiting for them, in spite of your knowledge of you being a lightweight.

"y/n!" you heard penelope greet you accompanied by the tell tale sound of her heels clicking against the floor. "my pumpkin pie what happened?!" she said as she approached you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder as she took a seat beside you.

"are you alright, y/n?" emily asked as she approached the chair on the opposite side of you.

"i'm... yup," you giggled as you turned to face emily. "is that unsub still in custody? maybe he still wants to have his go with me," you asked before busting out in laughter.

"what? y/n why...?" emily questioned, looking past you and making eye contact with penelope, silently asking if she understood what you meant. "why would you say that?" she asked softly, taking her coat off in preparation for the rest of the night.

"welllll, pretty lady, apparently spencer should've just let him finish the job when he took me," you giggled, leaning in closer to emily. "at this point i think spencer might want to finish the job himself!" you whisper shouted, penelope still able to hear your comment as you busted out in laughter once again.

"what'd boy wonder say?" penelope asked, scooting her chair closer to yours and emily's in hopes of hearing you better.

"he said 'i wish you died when the unsub took you. i should've let him finish the fucking job!'" you said with a smile on your face, the giggles still popping out of your mouth every so often.

penny and emily shared a knowing look as they glanced at each other. emily raised her eyebrows in suspicion as penelope rubbed her lips together with furrowed brows.

"i think you guys forget," you hiccuped, "i'm a profiler, silly gooses. i knoowww that look you guys are giving each other," you slammed your hands down on the table. "he meant what he said. he wants me dead," you frowned, the giggling finally ceasing as you took in the harshness of the situation. "maybe i should be, you guys."

"no! no, no, no," penny insisted, placing a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards her. she took note of the tears in your eyes once again. "he doesn't want you dead, y/n. he lost it when he found out the unsub took you."

"garcia's right. he could barely think straight for longer than 15 seconds when you disappeared," emily confirmed. "he cares about you, don't forget that."

"you should've seen him tonight, em," you turned to face emily, taking another sip of your drink before penny took it from you despite your protests. "he told me he didn't want to be near me and that he didn't want my help," you sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes before they fell. "i just wanted him to be okay..."

"i know you did sweetie," penny consoled as she rubbed a hand on your back.

you leaned forward and rested your head on emily's shoulder as she wrapped her arms around you. penny continued to rub your back as sobs racked through your body. eventually, your sobs slowed and you were able to sit back up and wipe your tears.

he knew about your struggle with depression in the past. he knew that there was a point in your life when you didn't even want your life. he had to know the weight of his words as he said them.

and that hurt worse than the fact that he said them.

the fact that he knew how much they'd hurt you.

"i think i just need a break from him for a while," you sniffled as you used a napkin to wipe your tear stained cheeks.

you and spencer had spent practically every free night you had together. whether you went to his place or him yours, you spent whatever free time you had together.

you would watch those foreign films together, where he would whisper the translations in your ear. he would try to teach you to be better at chess. you would attempt to teach him to be a better cook. each of you loved spending time together.

so spencer saying that to you, knowing your backstory and your history, hurt more than you'd care to admit.

"are you sure?" emily asked concerned.

"he meant it, em. it was like he hated me. i don't... i don't want to see him again. at least not for a while," you frowned at the admission, picking at your nails in your lap.

"maybe that's for the best. a little break?" penelope agreed. "you still have a lot of vacation time, y'know," she suggested, nudging your shoulder slightly.

"yea. i think i might take a vacation for a month or two. visit my family, see some sights," you shrugged.

you and spencer had been looking through catalogues together at different sights you'd like to see together. those were the only places you'd thought about seeing, so you'd probably just visit them alone, try to make your own memories without him tainting them.

"that sounds fun, y/n. it's a good idea," she gently scratched your back.

"just uhm... don't tell spencer, please," you asked as you placed a twenty on the counter of the bar.

"whatever you want, sugar," penelope agreed, helping you stand to your feet. "we carpooled here, so i'll just drive you home, okay?" penelope suggested as you nodded in agreement.

"you can stay the night. you don't need to be out this late, pen," you practically demanded.

"yes ma'am," penny laughed at your care for others, even when you felt horrible.

you've always been the person that's there for everyone, even spencer.

when they each went through their own trouble or needed help you were there for them.

especially spencer.

and now after you had your own traumatic experience where you thought you would die yourself, spencer wasn't there for you. instead, he added to the hurt and pain.

penelope drove you home, you fell asleep on the way. she slept in your guest bedroom and helped you when you had to throw up in the middle of the night.

you had never been more grateful to not have worn the next day. you called hotch to let him know of your plans of vacation for a couple months, which he allowed.

he thought it was an excellent decision for you to take a vacation. you'd always worked hard on everything you did. paperwork or a case, you did your best. so he knew this break would really help you to relax.

so, you planned everything out. you got a plane ticket to see your family, and you would drive everywhere from there on out with a rental car.

you would see the statue of liberty, the empire state building, acadia national park, walters art gallery, the national aquarium, and so many other places you and spencer had looked through together.

part of you felt guilty for doing this without him, but you figured since he wanted you dead he could just go see the places by himself. he'd probably enjoy them even more without you, anyway.

you had decided to turn your phone off, not wanting to be bothered by the nuisance of social media, but you left your work phone on in case of an emergency. you had gotten a video camera in hopes of recording your journey.

you sent postcards at every location you went to. you even sent them pictures of you and your family together, smiles in every single one of them.

your mom and step dad were overjoyed to see you. they could tell there was something that pushed you for this vacation other than just needing a break from work, but they didn't push since they were just excited to see you.

you videoed them upon your arrival, them hugging you tightly and your dogs jumping on you.

the sights were absolutely stunning. you couldn't believe how amazing the views were. they were more incredible than you could imagine.

part of you couldn't stop thinking about spencer and how much you missed him. you had wanted to see these places together, but you figured he never wanted to see you again.

so at each spot, you made a separate video dedicated to spencer. you told him how part of you wished he was there to tell you his facts he had about the places. you told him how you wished he actually wanted to be there with you, but understood that he needed his own space.

as happy as you seemed in those pictures and at those sights, when you got back to your hotels you would break down.

you didn't understand how spencer could be so cruel to you after you trying to be the best friend you could be.

now you had one more week of vacation and you only had one more sight to see, the one you were the most excited about.

the day spencer blew up on you, he couldn't get over how rude his words had been. he decided to leave you be the next few days, letting you both cool off from the blowup that had ensued.

the day he had gone back to work, he got you your favorite muffin, coffee, and flowers. he placed them on your desk waited for you to walk through the doors so he could beg for your forgiveness.

but you didn't show up.

he went into hotch's office in hopes of finding answers, only to be told that you had requested time off.

he was riddled with guilt from the new information. you had practically fled because of his words.

he didn't talk to anyone the rest of the day. he just finished his paperwork quickly and went home.

when he saw the postcards you had sent emily, jj, derek, penelope, rossi, and hotch, he felt part of his heart break.

all of the places you went were the places he wanted to take you.

he wanted to tell you the fun facts about those places that he researched just to see your smile. he wanted to hold your hand as you looked out on new york as you stood in the empire state building. he wanted those experiences with you.

and there you were experiencing them without him. enjoying them like you had never discussed them with him yourself.

and you never even sent him a postcard.

during all of this, spencer had received the cold shoulder from practically everyone. they had stopped asking him out after cases, and didn't talk to him unless it had to do with the cases they were on.

"morgan! can you at least tell me why everyone's treating me like this?" spencer begged him to reveal the truth for what felt like the millionth time.

"reid. you're telling me you seriously don't know why everyone's mad at you?" he scoffed. "you're a profiler. figure it out," he demanded as he turned to walk back to his desk, unaware that the shaggy haired man had followed him.

"i've tried. please, just tell me," he asked, his eyes welling with tears.

"because of what you told her, reid," morgan sighed, finally looking at the man standing beside him. "you told her you wanted her dead. we all know her past struggles, and you still told her you wished she was dead. that was so beyond low, reid," morgan informed the man.

spencer stood there, taking in the information.

he didn't realize that nobody knew why he had said that. nobody knew why he pushed you away.

"sh-she really believes that?" spencer asked, watching morgan nod. "i don't want her dead. i need her. i've always needed her. i'll always need her," he shook his head in frustration, running his hand through his hair. "i-i said that because i realized how much i needed her. i realized how much i love her and it terrified me. i was just scared of those feelings, morgan. sh-she can't go. i can't lose her, derek," spencer cried, tears streaming down his face as he admitted his feelings for the first time out loud.

"well you sure have a funny way of showing it, reid," morgan rolled his eyes before sighing in compliance. "if you really love her, show her that. she's traveling alone right now, thinking you hate her and thinking that you don't want her in the world right now," morgan shook his head as he stood up to hand some files in to hotch.

"i know. b-but what should i do?" the boy genius wondered.

"go to her, dumbass. let her know how you feel and how much of a dumbass you are," morgan said as he walked off to hand his files in.

spencer ran to penelope's lair in hopes to track where you were.

"garcia!" spencer said upon entrance.

"reid. what do you want?" she asked in a monotoned voice.

"garcia, please just listen to me. you have to hear my side of the story, please," he begged. she turned around in her chair to face spencer, raising her eyebrows to entice him to finish the story. "i love her," he ripped the band-aid off. "i'm in love with her, and i only realized it when i thought i might lose her forever. and that feeling... it-it terrified me. so, i pushed her away. i couldn't... i couldn't go on knowing that she didn't feel the same, so i ruined our friendship."

"spencer..." penelope sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead in an attempt to not explode on the man in front of her. "she was absolutely devastated. she went to the bar that night and... she drank. you know that she never drinks, spencer. not since her dad was in that car accident. she was distraught because you knew her past. you knew and you still yelled that at her..." penelope looked at the tears in his eyes, realizing how much he truly felt for you. "but i guess i can help you. although i promised her i wouldn't tell you anything!" she chastised. spencer ran over and hugged her tightly.

"oh thank you so much, garcia! thank you!!" he exclaimed excitedly. "i'm gonna go tell hotch i need a week off to visit her!" he said before running out of garcia's office.

penelope had gotten the information he needed from tracking your work phone, and gave it to him. spencer was approved to leave abruptly by hotch, him being understanding of the direct of the situation.

truth be told, hotch had a suspicion reid was the reason you left. he had noticed the tension between the two of you after they got you back from the unsub, and just came to a conclusion after you asked for time off.

so of course he let spencer have time off. he hoped he would try to fix things between the two of you. hotch was a bit worried you might leave the into if things weren't resolved, so whatever would keep you with them would work.

spencer figured you'd choose to go to the place you were most excited about last. you always wanted that kind of flare, the buildup to the most beautiful sight you'd see. when penelope told him where you were after tracking your phone, he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

he ordered the first ticket to upstate new york, and reserved a room at the hotel he found you had been staying at after garcia tracked your credit card purchases.

"morgan, i just finished packing," spencer said while on the phone with his friend, putting his suitcase into the back of a cab so he could get to the airport.

"good. don't forget to have flare, reid. women love that stuff," morgan chuckled.

"not y/n, morgan. she wouldn't want that attention," spencer practically scoffed at him while shutting the trunk, now stepping into the back of the cab.

"right, right. my bad," he raised his hands in defense in spite of spencer not being able to see him.

"aright, i've got to go now," spencer announced.

"let me know how it goes, alright?" morgan requested, still feeling a little eager at the entire situation going down.

"of course," spencer accepted. "bye."

spencer sighed as he gave the cab driver the address of the airport. he wasn't sure about him confessing his feelings for you, but that's the only way to show you how sorry he was, and how he didn't mean a word he had said to you.

he hated the past three weeks without you. without your gentle touch, melodious laughter piercing his ears at one of his crummy jokes. without the sight of your beautiful smile, or the way your voice sounded while mindlessly singing as you attempted to teach him how to cook.

he found himself watching videos he had of you and him together, scrolling through your pictures.

some were silly, goofy pictures you had taken of the two of you. some of the pictures were of you and him in formal wear at rossi's, him looking at you in your dress like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen... mostly because you are. some are of you asleep on his couch cuddled into his chest and gripping onto him in the midst of your dream, your smile signified that it was a good dream, at that.

he didn't know when he fell in love. all he knew was that he had fallen. hard. he didn't even care enough to figure out when the exact moment was, and he might as well have not tried.

he fell in love with you over time.

because over time you would reveal a little bit more of yourself to him that he found himself admiring. at first it was the way you secretly had a crush on james t. kirk. then it was that you snort when you truly laugh... something you were insecure about but he found even more adorable.

then it was about your dad.

it was about the car accident that ensued after a drunk driver slammed into him.

then he understood why you were so protective over the team when they went out together. you never drank, and always drove the girls and morgan home when they drank too much. you took the responsibility because you couldn't stand the thought of losing them like you had your own father years ago.

his death is what made you question everything, including your own existence. you didn't understand why he was gone, and left you behind.

on the anniversary of his death, you and spencer had gone to his grave to mourn him. he held you while you cried, and helped you eat the picnic you had brought with you.

so no, there wasn't a specific moment where he could pinpoint where he fell in love with you. this was merely because there's so much love he has for you that he's pretty sure he'll never stop falling in love.

once the plane landed in new york, he took a cab to the hotel you were both staying at and got everything ready. he remembered everything you were doing that day, and decided to surprise you at the one place he knew you were going to love the most.

niagara falls.

he got dressed in jeans and a white button up shirt. he put a brown sweater vest overtop the button up, and wore his black converse and satchel.

he had stopped by to get your favorite flowers. he got a mixture because he knows how you hate only being able to have one favorite - marigolds, daisies, asters, lilies, white tulips, and lilacs. you love the mixture of the colors together.

he planned to stop by your room and give you the flowers, begging for your forgiveness and admit his undying love for you. no problem.

then the time came.

his palms were sweaty, he could practically tell his voice would crack upon his admission to you. worst case scenario, you say you hate his guts and never want to see him, transfer out of the team, and he never sees you again. that's something he can't let happen.

best case scenario, you return his feelings and let him see this one last place with you as a truce. he gets to tell you the facts he learned just for this experience, and you live happily ever after.

he really hopes it's best case scenario.

meanwhile, you were looking through your suitcase. you had realized the last sweater you brought with you was spencer's, you just didn't realize it upon packing. you felt the tears pricking the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

you could throw the sweater away, and just wear one of your other shirts. or you could bask in his scent one last time before christening your life from him.

that decision had to wait, because there was a knock on your door.

you threw a robe over your shirtless body, and ran to open the door. your face fell upon seeing who was there. you were confused, shocked that you saw the man you thought hated your guts at your door, with flowers nonetheless.

"s-spencer?" you questioned, squinting your eyes as if he was someone else.

"h-hi, y/n," spencer swallowed. your eyes widened upon this revelation before you scoffed and swiftly slammed the door shut.

you ran to get the sweater on and over your head, but spencer had thought you were shutting him out. he thought you were turning him away before he even had a chance to express his feelings.

"please let me explain, y/n!" he exclaimed, banging on the door before you swiftly opened it again.

"yeesh, smartypants," you joked as you used to, a small smile playing on your lips. "i was just putting a shirt on," you said before moving out of the doorway, signaling him to come inside.

"i uhm... i got these for you," he handed you the flowers after you shut the door behind you.

"thank you," you pulled your lips into a tight lipped smile before sighing. "why are you here?" you bit your bottom lip softly, trying to refrain yourself from crying just at the sight of seeing him.

you sat down on the edge of the bed, patting beside you for him to sit down. you began twiddling your fingers in your lap, avoiding his gaze.

"i'm about to say something, and then i'll explain something," he said slowly, forgetting every single word he had practiced before coming into your room, seeing your face in person, viewing your smile, noticing you still wearing his sweater... giving him a glimmer of hope. "when you got caught by the unsub... i broke. i broke like i never have before, and i didn't know why," he sighed. "until i did," he reached his hand over to grab yours gently. "i'm in love with you."

your face shot up, finally looking him in the eyes, confusion displayed in yours.

"i've been falling in love with you for... who know how long. all i know is that i thought i had lost you, and crumpled without you. i can't do anything without you. i can't live without you. i need you," he said, tears filling his on eyes as you placed a hand on top of his.

"so w-why'd you tell me that..." you trailed off, your eyes gazing downward in fear.

"because," he used his free hand to grasp your chin softly, pulling it up to meet his eyes, "i was terrified," he moved his hand to cup your cheek. "i was scared about our friendship being ruined because i loved you, and because i was scared i pushed you away. i know that's no excuse, and nothing can excuse what i said to you. ever. but i'll spend every second of my life trying to make it up to you. please... just say you'll let me make it up to you," tears were now streaming steadily down his face.

"spencer," you took you hands out of his, leaving his hand on your knee, and wiped his face with both of them.

you leaned in slowly, looking him in the eyes to see if he understood what you were about to do. he met you somewhere in the middle, connecting your lips together in a frenzy of sentiment, longing, and passion. it was build up of every emotion the two of you have been harboring for as long as either of you could remember.

his hand on your face remained there, pulling you into him a little more. his other went slightly higher on your knee, now meeting your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze as your hands moved to the back of his neck.

when you opened your mouth for his tongue to enter, it met yours tentatively, slowly exploring every crevice, you doing the same. neither of you fought for dominance, allowing there to be certain kind of harmony to the moment the both of you have been dreaming of for so long.

you slowly pulled back, being sure to look in his eyes to see nothing but admiration and endearment in them.

"i love you too, spencer," you grinned softly. "but that doesn't mean i can just forget what you said..." you said before he wrapped you in his arms.

"i absolutely understand, of course," he sniffled. his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. "don't leave, please," he begged as you embraced him by his neck, pulling his face down into the crevice in your neck.

"never again," you complied, feeling his smile against the skin on your neck, a slight chuckle leaving your lips at the sentiment. your hands found their way to his hair, running them though the locks gently. "wait!" you said as you jolted off of the bed to stand up. "how did you know where i was?"

"well..." spencer stood up and made his way back to you. "garcia helped a bit, and i realized that out of all of the places we talked about visiting, you haven't been to your favorite one yet. and because you're you, you saved the best for last," he finished as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"penelope!!" you huffed, your arms locking behind his neck. "i swore her to secrecy an you broke her!" you exclaimed. "oh well, she lasted longer than i expected," you shrugged before leaning in to give spencer another kiss.

"yea, i had to confess my love for you to her first so she'd tell me," he whispered before leaning in with you slowly, you pulling back a bit at what he revealed.

"how many people know?" you questioned, playing with the hair on his neck and brows furrowed.

"well derek knows, garcia knows, i'm pretty sure hotch has a suspicion, so at this point most likely everyone on the team," he bent down to begin kissing your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"oh?" you asked as he mumbled a 'mmhmm' against your skin.

you're breathing slowed down as he began to suck on the soft spot on your neck, a warm feeling rushing straight to your core you tugged gently on his curls, a soft moan leaving the both of your lips.

"spencer..." you quietly called. "i have to be there in two and a half hours," you trailed off, your hand now running through the top of his hair, all the way down, feeling the softness of his locks between your fingers.

end of part 1 ;)

#spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid #angst #hurt/comfort #criminal minds #spencer

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