#hopefully I don’t have a meltdown this time

[rooolt]

Happy naddpod live in Philly day for all who will celebrate

[gothstiels]

idk like tomshiv ending up unhappily together with a baby felt inevitable imo. it’s not that they want us to root for them or see it in a positive light now. it’s that they were always going to be stuck together. it’s very much in the same vein as kendall fighting for ceo again when we all know it might kill him. obviously it’s terrible but i would even go so far as to say it’s the point.

[insert-name-heres-things]

Happy Disability Pride Month!!!

Remember Folks:

- SELF CARE IS NUMBER ONE

- Use your spoons sparingly! Here’s some spoons to go: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

- Clean your mobility aids! (Seriously dude when was the last time you wiped that shit down with an antibacterial?)

- Accommodate yourself, as others will follow.

- Make goals within your reach and abilities

- DO YOUR COPINGS SKILLS

- Remember to stay hydrated and take your meds!

- For my fellow heat sensitive homies, stay cool this summer! A cold rag draped behind your neck, airy clothing, a small portable hand fan, keeping ice packs ready, cold water and expecially cold electrolyte drinks, all do wonders!

- For my fellow autistic folks, don’t be afraid wear earmuffs, stim, use chew charms, whatever it is that helps you regulate. You don’t have to mask if it’s something that isn’t benefitting to your life.

- POTS havin mofos like me, salt the ever loving fuck out of your food. Try different foods with salt, such as fruits and vegetables! I’m currently eating a salty tomato. Drink lots of water, I’ve been aiding gateraid packets to my water and it’s made a HUGE difference, especially as someone who hates drinking water.

- Those with PTSD for whatever reason, I wish you safety and support as you learn to cope and hopefully heal.

- I don’t know exactly what to say to others with H-EDS, as I’m still understanding this disorder other then BE CAREFUL WITH YOURSELF THIS PRIDE MONTH. I swear to god we are the most accident prone mother fuckers lmfao-

- If your immune system is all fucky like mine, keep clean and be sanitary, communicate with others that if they’re sick you can’t be around them, and wear a mask if you feel like that’s the right option for you. In my hometown I’ve gotten yelled at more than once for wearing a mask post-covid, however you can’t let someone else’s ignorance result in your own suffering.

- Don’t forget to move around and stretch! A little movement can do a lot for your body.

- Check in with your disabled friends! Try and see if there’s any way you can help one another, see where both of your strengths and weaknesses lie, and swap some spoons!!

- Be aware of what triggers your disorders. Whether if it’s caffeine triggering bipolar episodes, the weather causing fibro flares, big changes causing meltdowns, overexerting your hypermobility, whatever it is, it matters. Listen to your body and mind.

- Don’t be afraid to call out that doctor who isn’t listening, dismissing your symptoms and medically gaslighting you.

- While it may not seem like a big difference for some, trust me when I say your appetite is so important! Remember if it comes down to it, that it’s better to eat something, ANYTHING, than nothing at all. 

- To that person who might be hesitant, ashamed or might be questioning wether or not they should use a mobility aid, if it’s the difference between you being stuck at home vs going out and living some life… USE THAT MOBILITY AID!!! Same goes for braces and any other tool that may help you live a better quality of life.

- Be accepting towards those with disabilities different then your own- remember this month isn’t a competition about who’s struggling the most, rather to understand that people of physical, psychological, sensory, neurodivergence, and even undiagnosed disabilities all share one thing in common.. WHICH IS BEING DISABLED!

- Doesn’t matter who you are, how young or old, black or white, thick or thin - the disabled minority is one you can end up becoming a part of at any time, and likely will if you live long enough. Disability doesn’t discriminate, so EVERYONE should be advocating for disabled people’s rights.

- And of course, have pride in being disabled. This shit is fucking hard, but if you’re reading this, you’re doing it. Just being here today and doing what you can handle or manage, is doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t have to push yourselves to impossible lengths to be proud of yourself.

Here, have the disability pride flag:

[andersonfilms]

Abbys reaction to you telling her how hot she is while making out: "you're so hot I can't stand it it drives me crazy." - maybe the first time or one of the first times

ALL MY LOVE IS FREE

tags: eighteen+, lesbians obsessed with each other, had to post during lesbian visibilty week like c'mon???, just a big bag of fluff packaged with light steam, abby being a nervous goofball, sfw with suggestive themes.

an. sorry i kinda disappeared with posts. new collab is taking over my brain. but wanted to at least post something. can't wait for y'all to get a taste. until then, i'll be finishing the requests in my inbox (hopefully). with all the love, ray.

the end of your first date with abby marks a colossal milestone, especially for the two of you. the moment almost seemed monumental. taking one year of abby’s pining, six months of flirting and six months of tiptoeing while you were with someone else. respectfully, waiting until a month after the breakup, she asks you out.

unimaginable expectations abby had before going into tonight, but all she had to offer it seems was her nerves. god, she was acting like a dumb, mumbling, dork tonight. saying the first thought coming to mind, but it makes you laugh. when abby nearly eats it on the sidewalk, tripping over a crack of grout in the cement. your soft angelic voice taking her out for a moment, the only thing centering her from having a meltdown. 

“baby, are you alright? be careful, honey.” there it is, angelic. “wouldn’t want you to fall.” the first pet names hurled her way by you, making her heartbeat faster than she could keep up with. you cut her off at her knees, ensuring you are the only person she could ever want.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

it’s pretty obvious who was in control the entire night. if the two of you are friends, this night has a year of expectations, hopes, goals to meet and abby felt like she was failing. deeply.

as she walks you up to the front door, she knows the only thing she accomplished was letting you down. nothing went the way she thought it was going to. everything felt off. worst of all, your silence snuffs her out, completely.

you grab her hands, pulling her up the stairs with you. the collar feels too hot, tense, off. delicate fingers playing with the collar before you unclasp the buttons, keeping down before you move to her chest, placing your hand on abby’s inconsistent heartbeat.

“can i? s’tense, need you to loosen up for me. alright?” abby nods, accepting you can read her like the back of your hand. she just doesn’t want you to stop touching her. “get out of this head of yours. s’just me and you, no one else.” your nimble fingers pop the first three buttons, revealing her freckled chest, dipping into her sternum, giving you a delicious preview. she takes a deep breath, and you believe it’s the first one she’s allowed herself since she showed up with a bouquet of flowers in hand. 

“‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to ruin tonight. i just— it’s you. y’know? i’ve never wanted someone like this. been friends for ages and this is just everything. you are everything. i’ll never live with myself if i let you slip through my fingers.” her heartbeat calms under your touch the longer abby speaks, bringing a warmness to your own. “don’t worry about all of it. you’re not going to. i won’t let you.” 

“okay.” abby says as she gets lost in the light in your eyes. the fire visible behind yours. the way she’s looking at you? fuck. unimaginable desire — all for you. it almost seems too good to be true. like you don’t deserve it. waiting for the pin to drop, all the misery drowning you with it. “did you have a good time tonight?” 

“yes baby, i did.” you smirk as she inches forward, closing you into your front door. back pressed against it, her small breasts pressed to your chest, her free hand extended, next to your head as it lays flat on the door.

“s’good. wouldn’t want to kiss you if the date was bad.” all the confidence is back. the abby who flirted with you shamelessly for months on end. knowing you’re happy is enough for her. it’s all she needs to know to let the loser in her fall to ashes. but you taking the reins for a moment, does something so visceral inside her. she nearly doesn’t know how to act until her instincts kick in. 

she’ll satisfy you — just in the way she knows how. 

“what are y—” abby pressed her body weight into you, strong hips pinning you against the door using one of her hands to pin both of yours above your head. you’re whimpering, signaling your shock but the whine omitting from your lips tells abby your pussy is shocked. soaked.

“doing what i should have done months ago.” her pink plump lips meet yours, taking complete control over you. but you welcome it with open arms. she grunts in your mouth causing you to gasp as abby’s tongue enters your mouth. massaging it with yours in a swift battle for dominance. 

it’s too much but also not enough. you’re grinding against her, your crotch kissing hers as you lift a leg, wrapping it around her waist. she continues kissing you like her entire life depends on it. not letting you feel anything but her. she’ll be your everything and you’re not leaving until you understand it just as much as her. “abs—” you mumble in her mouth, abby relinquishes the tight grip on her hands.

immediately your hands are woven in her hair. tugging at the golden hair, as you try to pull her closer to you, if it was even possible. but the two of you have to come up for air, abby the first one to break as she chuckles at both of your heaving chests. 

“fuck, you’re so hot, baby. can’t stand it.” you peck her lips softly. admiring how puffy and swollen they look from her ministrations. god, you want her to devour you once again. “‘m, drives me crazy.” you admit, taking in the intoxicating smirk on her face. you’re not made into a fumbling mess easily. the both of you know it. that’s how abby knows it in her bones, she has you. fuck, she can’t ever imagine letting go. 

[highvern]

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?” 

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk. 

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response. 

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job. 

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting. 

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips. 

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas. 

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces. 

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh. 

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse. 

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end. 

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth. 

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him. 

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.” 

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago. 

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth. 

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.” 

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore. 

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later. 

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back. 

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum. 

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward. 

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago. 

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range. 

“Tell me and you can have it,”  Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage. 

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play. 

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit. 

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off. 

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve. 

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd. 

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily. 

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head. 

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock. 

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point. 

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden. 

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.” 

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely. 

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his. 

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad. 

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.” 

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria. 

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give. 

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

 “Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth. 

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt. 

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat. 

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh. 

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen. 

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood. 

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.” 

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed? 

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force. 

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!” 

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep. 

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re  already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake. 

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch. 

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward. 

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more. 

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! 

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins. 

It takes all the strength you possess  to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him. 

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes. 

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.  

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin. 

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash. 

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal. 

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. 

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water. 

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join. 

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?” 

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…” 

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.” 

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo. 

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.” 

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder. 

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time. 

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room. 

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out. 

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”. 

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping.  He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless. 

Worth it, he thinks 

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | June 3rd-23th 2024 ~ Fics

Sorry for skipping a two weeks! I had a work thing the weekend before before last and work is a bit busy at the moment so I couldn't get to it during the week. Hope you enjoy!

Complete

Take the Lead by Inell/ @inell (Getting Together, Post-S7 | 1,3K | Teen): Buck and Eddie finally have a conversation that they’ve needed to have for months, if not years.

take me out and take me home by bellabrady (Getting Together | 1,7K | Not Rated): Maddie has been texting him, asking him if he’s asked Buck yet and reassuring him that he’ll say yes, although after a few days, it seems her patience started to run out and the reassurance kind of turned into bullying. So he’s going to do it. He’s going to ask Buck out on a date, today. Partially because he wants to finally be with Buck and this will hopefully be the start of that and partially because he’s getting tired of Maddie texting him that he’s a coward — Or: Buck and Eddie finally go on a date.

thanks, babe! by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Eddie accidentally calls Buck babe and refuses to have a meltdown over it. It was just his subconscious betraying him because they were surrounded by couples, right? Right?!

hit the jackpot by coupe_de_foudre/ @panevanbuckley (Canon Divergent, 1x09: Trapped | 2K | General): “I’m your husband.” “You’re my husband? Holy shit!”

baby don't you know? (you're my golden hour) by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Post-S6 | Getting Together | 2K | General): Eddie will give him this: Chimney does wait months after Buck’s out of his coma and back by his side to bring it up. “How come you and Buck haven’t told anyone you’re together?”

I wish I could help by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Post-7x05: You Don't Know Me, PWP | 2K | Explicit): Eddie is so pent up he can barely focus on his job – and Buck is all too happy to help. That’s just what friends do.

the 'i' in ikea stands for 'i love you' by ipretendtobesane/ / @useramor (Getting Together, Didn't Know They Were Dating | 2,8K | Teen): buck has some life changing realizations in the curtain section of ikea. mainly, he's really, really in love with his best friend.

Chance Encounter by Inell / @inell (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Divorced Eddie/Shannon, S4 | 3K | Teen): When Eddie and Buck go to the Hollywood Farmer’s Market, Eddie doesn’t expect to run into his ex-wife for the first time since moving to LA two years ago.

(for every question why) you were my because by thatbuddie (talktothesky) (Post-S7, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “Being boyfriends and being friends is really different,” Buck says. “But if you’re so okay being friends with him,” Eddie explains, “It means there wasn’t anything he did wrong while being your boyfriend. So I don’t understand why you broke up with him.” “I didn’t break up with him because he did anything wrong.” Eddie opens his arms wide and then lets them drop down to hit the side of his thighs. “But then what happened? I just don’t understand. What happened?” “You! That’s what happened: You!” (or, Buck breaks up with Tommy but won’t talk about it, and Eddie just needs to know why.)

of bake sales and overdue realizations by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together | 4,8K | Teen): Eddie doesn’t notice it until it becomes a thing that happens even when it’s just him and Buck, without Chris anywhere near them - but even then, he doesn’t find it strange, or give it much thought. Buck is the one who starts ending their phone calls with a quick ‘love you’ but it doesn't take long before Eddie does the same, often beating him to it.

one single static frame by signetsealed/ @gayeddieagenda (Post-S7, Pre-Buddie | 5K | General): Chris is gone and Buck and Eddie are called on for babysitting duty. Eddie has feelings about it.

some version of you that I might not have (but I did not lose) by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Coma Dream, Pre-Buddie | 5K | Teen): Either Eddie is dreaming and can't wake up, or he's losing his mind. He's not sure which one is more likely.

Baby Got Buck by bgonemydear, Chash/ @ponyregrets (Pre-canon to S7 | 5K | Mature): Five times Buck checked out a guy's ass before he figured out he was bi, and one time someone checked out his after.

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre/ @panevanbuckley (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 6K | General): or, Eddie does a Ravi and swaps shifts for a bit, only everyone on B Shift is convinced that he and Buck are married. they might not be as wrong as Eddie initially thought.

buried deep, our love comes home by lookforanewangle (Post-3x15: Eddie Begins | 7K | Teen): “You care for him.” “Of course I do,” Buck says, gaze back on Eddie against his will. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again. “He’s my best friend.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I—I don’t—Bobby, it-it’s not like that—” or: After a traumatic few days, Buck and Eddie get their shit together.

i told my future by reading your lips by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (2x06: Dosed, Time Travel | 7K | Teen): In 2018, on their way to a call at a child beauty pageant, and feeling a little strange, Buck and Eddie are suddenly thrown into a fast-paced look at some key moments from their future. And, what they see? Well it can only lead to one logical conclusion.

oh, come when you're called by lesbianrobin/ @lesbianrobin (Post-S7 | 8K | Teen): Chris wants his dad. He wants his bed. But he can't have those yet, and he and Dad never really text because if Dad’s not working they’re usually together or one of them is too busy to text, so texting Dad feels weird, but Buck… He can text Buck.

🔥 Saints into the Sea by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Post-7x05: You Don't Know Me, Coming Out, Jealous Eddie | 8K | Teen): There's an itch between his shoulder blades when Buck talks about Tommy, when Buck asks Eddie if he wants to join the two of them for a drink after work, when Buck smiles at a text message and Eddie knows it's from Tommy. His stomach had been twisted in knots for half of Maddie and Chim's wedding, watching the two of them. There's only one awful, inevitable conclusion: Eddie isn't actually as comfortable with Buck's coming out as he thought he was. Which is, frankly, unacceptable.

If You Want It, You Can Have It by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Post-S7, Halloween, Identity Porn | 9K | Mature): Buck just wants to enjoy a Halloween night out with the 118, drinking and dancing and making fun of Ravi's costume, all the while trying to handle his newfound feelings for Eddie. He thinks he's being smart, trying to get over his best friend, or at the very least, keep his secret under wraps. He ends up doing the exact opposite. It ends up yielding great results.

🔥 We're at an Impasse Here; Maybe We Should Compromise by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Post-S7 | 9K | Teen): "You cannot murder anyone," says Maddie. "Also, if you were going to murder your captain, it would be very stupid to write murder down as your top idea for how to deal with him." "It's on a dry erase board!" Chim protests. So far, all he's written on the board is Ways to Deal with Capt Gerrasshole, and then 1. Murder? below it. "And I put a question mark. So even if I didn't erase it, the jury would never convict. A question mark introduces reasonable doubt."

friends don't mean nothing to me (it's us) by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (Pre-S2, Canon Divergent | 15K | Teen): Buck and Eddie meet before he joins the 118, and it just might be the balm he needs to get over Abby. But when Eddie starts working at the station, Buck doesn't understand why Hen and Chim keep looking at them that way, or why Bobby seems to think they're dating.

🔥 when the longer days of sun appear, they'll be rising like an answered prayer by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 18K | Explicit): Eddie is generally worried when Tommy and Buck break up because Tommy's ex moved back to town, and even more worried when that leaves Buck without a date to a wedding. So, of course, Eddie's going to help him out with all of that.

🔥 like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Fix-It | 21K | Mature): If you’d asked Eddie back in May what rock bottom looked like, it was his son leaving him. That felt like it; everything ruined so entirely that there was no way to ruin it further. There’s always more to lose.

🔥 some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (Post S7E5 | 25K | Teen): Eddie’s gaze drop to Buck’s lips—pink, like his birthmark. Eddie wants to taste those lips, and he wants it with a fierceness so sudden it shocks him. “I’m, uh,” Buck stammers. “Last night. When you saw me and Tommy…we—we were on a date.” Everything inside Eddie goes still. If his heart is a kite, then this is the moment it plummets back to earth. or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

🔥 that magic feeling by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S7 Fix-It | 42K | Explicit): An alternate ending to season 7, in which Eddie doesn't completely blow his life up, and he and Buck realise they're in love.

🔥 ripples all the way down by iriswests/ @fcntasmas (Getting Together, S4 | 52K | Mature): With some coercion, Buck allows Maddie to set him up on a date. Surprisingly, the date goes well — and it keeps his mind off the unnamable feelings he’s been studiously ignoring for his best friend. Until Christopher’s science report on gentoo penguins — no, seriously — sets off a series of events that has him somehow spending more time at the Diazes’ side, and he feels like he’s going just a little bit insane trying to juggle a burgeoning relationship, his jealousy over Eddie’s own new relationship with Ana, and his inability to move on from the place that’s been his for three years in the Diazes’ lives. Oh, and Eddie keeps looking at him like he has something to say — except he never says it. This is the tumultuous road to finding out what Buck truly wants, paved by pebbles. -- or; christopher partakes in some parent trapping

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 85K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

WIP

🔥 Steal My Sunshine by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Altered Memories | 7/9 | 24K | Mature): Memories hazy and unreliable, Eddie Diaz wakes up every morning in a house at the end of a cul de sac, goes to his office job at a petroleum engineering company, and comes home to his wife and son. But something is missing, and the more Eddie begins to put the pieces together, the stranger the predicament he finds himself in. 

🔥 If You Can Make the Music by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, | 1/5 | 2K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 5 (Seaside): A year after a whirlwind two week love affair with bartender Buck in Galveston, Texas, Eddie Diaz finds himself coincidentally relocating to the area. But when he attempts to reconnect with Buck, he's in for an unfortunate surprise. (Part 3 of Coma-Verse)

The Smutty Ones by Tizniz/ @tizniz (PWP | 55/? | 22K | Explicit): A collection of smutty Buddie drabbles.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 129/? | 405K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 33/? | 21K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

Chapter 33. 19. "If we get caught kissing we're dead but let's risk it." 

🔥 Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 4/22 | 18K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 13/19 | 67K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Re-Read

the secrets we keep (the ones that spill out) by sparegarbage/ @babybucks (Getting Together | 4K | General): Or: Buck and Eddie comfort each other with cuddles, hugs, and kisses (platonically—or so they think).

Tear me to pieces and make me feel whole by justhockey (Getting Together | 2K | Not Rated): And that’s when it clicks. In the pasta aisle of the grocery store, at 10am on a Saturday morning. Buck is frowning as he tries to decide what to get - and Eddie is in love with him.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 11

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a hectic day but decided I wanted to stay up late and upload anyways. Prepare yourselves for a plot twist!!!

Content Warnings - Mentions of suicide/torture

How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? None of that mattered to you. You were happy here.

The capital doctors had fixed you. No more meltdowns over people touching you; no more urges to kill. You were finally healed.

You don’t know why they took the route of healing you while they tortured the others, but who were you to complain? They had made you whole again. Maybe they thought that making you realize the stability you had lived without for the past five years would be a form of torture. Maybe they thought it would make you sad. It didn’t. It made you the happiest you had been in a long time.

The only thing that would make you happier would be seeing Finnick. You know he’s not in the capital. Peeta said he saw him on the screen the other day while he was doing an interview, so you know he’s alive. You just hope you’ll be reunited soon.

Hopefully he will come here and they can fix him too. He may not show it, but his games and the years after have left him with a lot of scars. If he comes, you’ll make sure he gets the same treatment you received.

The power here keeps flickering out. Peeta says it’s cause the dam in District 5 was destroyed. Apparently Finnick and Katniss are in District 13 and the capital sent bombs. Peeta warned them and got extra torture because of it.

Johanna is silent outside of her screams. Whatever they’re doing to her sounds horrible. You don’t want to find out.

“Y/N!” Peeta whispers loudly to you. His room is across from yours and you can hear each other under the door.

“What?” you respond.

“I overheard them talking about you,” he states. “The peacekeepers were talking about your treatment.”

“What about it?” you ask.

“I didn’t hear all of it,” he explains, “and it’s hard for me to know what’s real nowadays, but they said something about a timer going off and how they would make you crazy again. We have to get out before they hurt us.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him annoyed. “They won’t hurt me. Snow promised.”

Just as Peeta goes to respond, the lights cut out again and peacekeepers enter the hall. They usually set up extra guards when the power goes out in case anyone tries to escape. Why would you escape? You like it here.

It must be an hour later when panic sets in. You hear a hiss coming from the hall and what sounds like people falling over. You don’t have time to think, however, before your door is opened and a canister of smoke is thrown into your room. Peeta was right. They are going to hurt you.

“Did you always love her?” Katniss asks Finnick as they wait for the rescue team to return. All communication had been cut off but the two were still holding onto hope that they would return safely.

“No,” he chuckles. “I guess she snuck up on me.”

“How?” Katniss asks.

“After her incident in the capital Snow killed her family,” he explains. “I moved in with her because she wasn’t stable enough to live on her own. We were scared she was going to kill herself and selfishly I couldn’t let the one victor I had brought home at that point die.”

Katniss nods her head in understanding and Finnick continues.

“I don’t know if I’d even call us friends when I first lived with her. She wasn’t thrilled I moved in and found me annoying, yet I was the only one she would talk to. She wouldn’t even speak to Mags,” he states. “Before Annie’s games my nightmares got worse. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night completely disoriented. Instead of running or turning violent she would stay. Whenever I woke her up she would come to my room and sit near me till I fell asleep again. Something just clicked at that point and I knew I couldn’t live without her. I still can’t.”

“I never even told her I loved her,” he sadly says to Katniss.

“She knows,” Katniss responds. “And I know she loves you too.”

Taglist:

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[therealcocoshady]

Reader going into labor while Marshall is on tour 👀

Surprise Drop

A/N : found what I wrote for this Ask a while ago. I had literally forgotten about this One Shot, it was in an abandoned space of my Google Drive 🙊. I have no idea why I never uploaded it over there ! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it ☺️.

Mind you, I added my own little twist to it, because I cannot imagine him going on tour while his partner is pregnant.

CW : Cryptic pregnancy - CocoShady writing about Dad!Marshall again because I love this trope

As he was close to finishing his set, Marshall seemed in his element. The crowd was roaring and fans were rapping along as he spat his verses that resonated throughout the stadium. The performance was a testament to the amount of work that had gone into putting that tour together, from the elaborate scenography to the setlist. His team was watching him from backstage, knowing an interruption so close to to the end of the show was out of the question. But tonight, unbeknownst to him, they were in a rush to get him out of there as soon as possible. Thirty minutes ago, Paul, his manager, had received a call demanding that Marshall flew back to Detroit as soon as possible. He’d been about to tell the lady, whose voice he had never heard, to go to hell and not to call this number again if she didn’t want him to press charges for harassment, but she had pronounced the magic word : your name. « Y/N is in the hospital, so you’d better have my son in law on the next plane to Detroit », your mother had ordered in a tone that left no room for arguing. And, as if the news of Marshall’s long time partner were not enough of a compelling argument, she had added something about your life being at stake. Scary and cryptic enough.

After consulting Tracy and some other trusted members of the team, they had agreed to let him finish the show. They knew he’d freak out as soon as they broke the news to him and, frankly, they needed the time to handle the logistics details and hurrying him to the airport. The private plane had been chartered, the driver already waiting for him outside of the venue, and his bags had been packed. For now, though, only few people knew about the disruption. They didn’t have enough details, and they couldn’t risk freaking out the whole team with a possible tour cancellation. Hopefully, you’d be alright and Marshall would be able to keep the tour going. Paul was nervously pinching his nose, silently hoping that he wouldn’t have to call the insurance company. The simple report of a performance at a later date would cost tons of money. Not to mention the PR they’d have to handle. And the manager absolutely refused to think about the worst case scenario.

When Marshall finally wrapped the last song of the night, Paul gestured for him to hurry up, not allowing for a proper goodbye to the crowd. As soon as he saw the frown on his manager’s face, he could sense something was wrong. « We need to get you out of there. A plane is waiting to take you back to Detroit. Y/N’s mom called. She is in the hospital ». There was no mention of your life being at stake, Paul figuring out that the urgency in his tone was enough and that the last thing anyone wanted was for Marshall to have a meltdown. He felt his heart sink, his mind running through all of the possibilities, none of them being good. He’d had you on the phone merely ten hours ago and everything seemed fine. « What happened? Is she ok? », Marshall asked. « I don’t have more details, Marshall. But from what I gathered… It’s serious and you need to get back », Paul replied. That much, he had figured. You were strong and definitely not the type to have him fly back over a sprained ankle. If you’d had your mother phone his manager, it must be pretty serious. Enough for his mind to go to the worst-case scenario. His vision clouded as he imagined you in a hospital bed, after some car wreckage or another tragedy. However, his assistant shook his arm and reminded him that he needed to hurry up.

Within minutes, they were being escorted to a car and driven to the airport. Then started the longest plane ride of his entire life. He tried calling your phone but it went straight to voicemail every time. Same for your mother’s. And the hot shower taken in the private plane’s bathroom, nor Tracy’s word of reassurance were enough to ease his mind. After a couple of hours, he finally received a text from his mother in law, addressing the numerous texts and voice messages he’d left. « Things are progressing. We’ll explain everything in person as soon as you get there». He wasn’t sure who ‘we’ was, or what ‘things’ were progressing. By the time the jet touched down in Detroit, Marshall was a nervous mess. He went straight to the hospital, leaving Tracy to drop his stuff home and, as he rushed to the reception and through the hallway, he finally spotted your mother outside of a room. « Is-Is she…Is Y/N ok? » he asked, absolutely out of breath. His mother in law placed a reassuring hand on his forearm and nodded, an undecipherable expression on her face, that looked like a mix of relief and exhaustion. « Everyone is fine, Marshall. We’re glad you came so quickly » she replied in a gentle voice. He let out a sigh of relief. You were fine. You were alive and breathing and, in the moment, that was all that mattered. Without a second thought, he opened the door to the hospital room and finally set his eyes on you.

You were sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around yourself, your eyes wide and full of worry. You looked exhausted and fragile and he immediately rushed to your side, wrapping his arms around you. « Babe. Oh, God, you scared me. What happened?! » he asked. « Marsh, » you said softly. « I-I didn’t know. I, I swear I didn’t…». He didn’t register what you said, his undivided attention on you and the sensation of his beating heart, processing the relief, the fact that you were fine. But then, he spotted your mom walking towards a corner of the room, where a small bassinet was standing. His eyes widened in shock. « What the fuck? » he let out.

It couldn’t be. He’d been home just two weeks ago and you were fine. And most of all : absolutely not pregnant. He certainly didn’t wear his glasses as much as he should, but he was certain he would have noticed if your body had been preparing to eject a human the size of a watermelon. He stared at you, then you mother, in shock. Tears were silently streaming down your face, while your mom looked at him with sympathy, as she held a baby wrapped in a soft, yellow blanket. « They said it was a cryptic pregnancy, » your mother explained. « Looks like this little one was playing hide and seek. No symptoms at all ». For a few seconds, Marshall was unable to breathe. He looked at you, trying to wrap his head around the news, replaying the last few months in his mind, wondering if there had been signs he’d missed. But you hadn’t seemed tired, did not eat more than usual, did not put on much weight… Nothing. Then, another wave of realization hit him. The vasectomy. About ten months ago, you’d convinced him to get one. None of you wanted to have a baby and you were fed up with your hormonal contraception, so he had agreed. And yet, there you were, in the hospital after giving birth to a tiny human whose gender, according to the blanket, was neither boy nor girl. A tiny, pale yellow chick. But you didn’t cheat. You would never do that to him. That much, he knew. He stared at you silently, not understanding how it was possible. « The surgery », he said. « How… ? I-I’m supposed to shoot blanks ». You looked down, realizing the turn this was taking. You’d asked the nurse very same question. « They told us to keep using protection for two months after it », you whispered. « We didn’t », he murmured. « Holy shit ».

You looked at him, giving him an apologetic glance. « I’m sorry », you whispered as you teared up again. The past few hours had been a blur of pain and shock, and now you were terrified. You had never expected to give birth out of the blue, to a baby you didn’t know was there, and nothing had prepared you to deliver that type of news. Marshall pulled you into his warm embrace and help you tight before placing a kiss on your temple. « It’s not your fault, my love » he said. Then, feeling heavy and fearful, he got up and walked to your mom, to have a look at the baby. He was immediately struck by the resemblance to his own baby pictures, that didn’t leave any room for doubt. That was his baby. « Is it…? », he began, mesmerized by the tiny, sleeping infant. « A baby girl. A very healthy baby girl », your mother announced with pride. « And I think she wants to meet her father », she added with a soft smile. He swallowed dryly then nodded. She handed it to him, and he held her with gentle care, feeling his whole world shift. The tension of the night immediately melted away, giving way to tears of relief and emotion. « Hi there » he whispered. « I’m-I’m your Dad ». He took his eyes away from her, looking up to you. « She’s beautiful » he said, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded, visibly relieved by the way he reacted. You were still feeling distant and hazy, not fully realizing that this baby was yours. You’d held her a couple of times but nothing had kicked in yet. Marshall, however, seemed immediately taken by the little one, as he was looking at her with amazement. The initial tension in his stance had eased up and, minutes later, he was cradling her as if it were the most natural thing for him, with the confidence of someone who’d been there before.

You stared at each other in silence, his eyes silently assuring you that everything would be alright. Then, your baby girl stirred and let out a soft cry. As if she wanted to remind the room of her presence, commanding attention. He looked at you with a grin and shook his head. « Guess she’s got my attitude », he joked. You mustered a smile and nodded. « Yeah. Your knack for surprise drops too, it seems ».

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[the-bitter-ocean]

Howdy! As you know the lovely @pixxyofice made a timeloop support group au for ISAT featuring mine and other mutuals aus that we made. I wanted to post the writing I did based on the awesome fic that Pix wrote, which you can read here! This writing as well as the Au in general is set post game so full game spoilers are expected.

(The order of the loopers arriving is Odile -> Mirabelle -> Isabeau -> Siffrin) so for chronological order read Odile’s POV first, then Mira’s then, Isa’s POV. WRITING IS UNDER THE CUT:

{ It is 7:07 pm.}

{ You are currently walking back home to your family, carrying a bag of books in your left hand and a bag of fruits in your right. }

{ You are very excited!!}

{ Your whole family is going to read stories alongside you together!}

{ You whistle to yourself happily.}

{ You hadn’t had the chance to do a book club meeting in practically forever- Madame Odile insisted that you wait until your health fully recovered back to normal. }

{ It was a smart idea to listen to her, so you did your best to not over exert yourself.}

{ You knew that she was right but you still couldn’t help feeling anxious and restless during that time.}

{ You hadn’t fully adjusted to the idea of not needing to heal anyone or not being able to do something productive.}

{That initial week was kind of a nightmare in more ways than one!}

{ You cringe a little at the thought of it.}

{ But it’s different now!}

{ You’ve been doing really good lately! }

{…}

{ Some days are easier than others.}

{ None of that matters though! You’re almost home!}

{ You approach the clock tower.}

{ You wish you could be more honest in how you feel with your family.}

{ You wish that your family could be able to truly understand how the loops changed you.}

{You wish for the courage to be able confide in your family again without fear.}

{ You sigh.}

{ There’s no use daydreaming about that now!}

{ This is a new day for you!}

{ There’s no need to think about the loops at all! }

{ With newfound resolve you reach out to open the door and you-}

{ …?! }

{ WHERE THE CRAB ARE YOU?}

{ You look up to see a sign on a building that has “TIME LOOP SURVIVORS SUPPORT GROUP” plastered on the front. }

{ You stare in disbelief. }

{You don’t know where you are. You don’t see anyone familiar. You try not to panic. }

{ You pinch yourself hard, once twice thrice!}

{Your arm is lightly bruised now.. so you’re probably not dreaming?}

{ A familiar dread kicks in and you reach to touch your ears in confirmation. }

{ The crescent moon earrings sway back and forth- going ding ding! }

{ Not in the loops. Probably. Hopefully.}

{ Change please give you strength to not have a meltdown in the middle of nowhere. That would be embarrassing. }

{You breathe in and out slowly.}

{ The quicker you figure this all out, the quicker you can return home.}

{ You can do this Mirabelle! Just go inside and ask for help on how to get home! }

{ You cautiously go inside the building.}

[zebulontheplanet]

Let’s talk about my masking, since it’s been a topic I’ve been avoiding talking about.

I’m medium masking. I can mask SOME. I used to be low masking due to my autism catatonia, but thanks to the medication I’m on, I was SLOWLY gaining masking skills back. But now starting to lose it again. It’s one of the few things I was getting back. And this is also your reminder. IF YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE AUTISM CATATONIA, REACH OUT TO A DOCTOR. Plain text: if you believe you have autism catatonia, reach out to a doctor.

Why? Because Autism Catatonia IS treatable.

I used to be VERY visibly autistic. Stimming constantly, running around, just having that *look* to me. It caused harassment ALL the time. Like literally all the time.

Now, I can mask some. Stimming being the biggest thing that I could mask. However, it did, and still caused me to be constantly overwhelmed, and constantly on the brink of a meltdown. The constant suppression of stims is and was harmful to me, and I am slowly letting go of my masking ability that I have gained back because it’s harmful to me, and I’m just causing myself more harm by doing so. And I’m losing it already and just causing myself more harm by pretending I’m not and trying to hold onto it. I don’t think people realize just how heartbreaking it was to not be able to mask much at all, to being able to mask some, and then realizing that even the small amount of masking you are doing is being extremely harmful to yourself. I’ve also noticed that it’s been detrimental on my mental health, and even physical health as it is causing me to have more catatonic episodes. Why? I don’t know. But I cannot deny that my catatonic episodes, constantly being on the brink of a meltdown or having multiple meltdowns a week, and being constantly overwhelmed, didn’t happen until I started suppressing some of my stims and autistic behaviors.

I am EXTREMELY privileged to even be able to suppress some of my stims. Does this mean I’m not perceived as autistic? Absolutely not. I’m still autistic, and very much perceived as being autistic because of the fact that I’m nonverbal, constantly not alone and with people assumed to be my caregivers, constantly chewing on things, wearing ear defenders, in a wheelchair, and so on.

However, I’ve noticed a drastic change between me as someone who once stimmed very outwardly, then someone who did stim more passively. I haven’t talked about my masking in a HOT minute, because I was like “great! Finally getting some masking abilities back, let’s see where this goes” and then the second I started gaining it back, it started going down the drain again.

Today, I’m laying in my bed. Under a weighted blanket, feeling my skin crawl and having to kick my partner out because I felt like I was going to have a meltdown because I didn’t wear my ear defenders all week even though I needed them. And knew I needed them.

I’ve been so focused on how others perceive me, how they look at me, how they treat me, that I’ve completely forgot about what is best for ME. What is best for MY health. Yes, for awhile I was gaining some masking skills back, and even now, I’m more masked than I was, but I’m losing that again, and it is the most terrifying feeling. The feeling of losing your masking skills AGAIN is terrifying. Because the last time I did, I was struck with so much catatonia that I couldn’t get out of bed and needed help with almost every bADL and lost my speech completely. Now, I know that this hopefully won’t be the case, and the more I accept that I’m losing my masking skills and try not to force it, I will be ok hopefully and not fall back into that.

Autism Catatonia has taken everything from me before, and it’s continuing to take so much from me again. However, I cannot justify continuing to put myself through the literal torture of masking, putting my health at risk with more catatonic episodes, and the like. I know, it’s an extreme privilege to even start unmasking, yet I don’t feel like I have a choice, or even a say in the matter. The more days that go by, I’m losing the ability whether I like it or not. I’m not going through my “silly little unmasking journey”, I’m losing a vital skill that is made to protect autistic people against my will. And the more I fight against it, the more I’ll just cause myself harm. I cannot risk falling back into more catatonic episodes. I’m in college. I cannot risk that.

For all my autism catatonia baddies out there losing their ability to mask and in a complicated relationship with it, I see you, and you aren’t alone in this.

Autism Catatonia is so complicated, and I feel like the more I try and fit myself into the box that I used to be, the more harm I’m causing myself. So, here’s to a new chapter. A new chapter of accepting that I shouldn’t mask so I don’t have catatonia. A new chapter of accepting that I’m losing my masking skills again. A new chapter of being my autistic self again, and not worrying what other people think of me.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Yall I did it!!! I actually finished the chapter! Okay so now I was thinking seriously of splitting this chapter in two parts but in the end, I couldn’t find a good, satisfying place to break them in half so… here’s a really long chapter! Hopefully you guys don’t mind 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Okay well anyways, God bless all of you and thank you so much for continuing to read my stuff, following my page here, giving me kudos and especially all the really nice, wonderful comments! Those are like instant serotonin to my brain 🤍.

Anyways hope you enjoy!

-

It doesn’t take long for Peeta to arrive home. After our call ended, with me tearfully proclaiming I need you, all I could manage to do was stare at the clock. Stare at it and count the minutes until my husband was here with me and not lingering in town, vulnerable and unaware of the most recent turn of events.

Not lingering in town, where Vulcan could find him and follow through with his threat to take Peeta’s life.

I almost choke as the possibility dawns on me. For some reason, in the hours since I awoke, the prospect of Vulcan the Stalker harming Peeta had yet to even cross my mind.

And my head wound throbs and my side aches something awful as the image fills my mind. The image of the person I love most in the world, lying in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying from a wound inflicted by a monster, who for some deranged reason chose me to be the object of his affection. My chest hurts at the very concept that Peeta could be gravely injured and I would be none the wiser. The mere idea quite literally takes my breath away.

The mere idea that what happened to me could happen to Peeta makes my eyes fill up, and I wonder if I begin to hyperventilate how much it’ll damage the stitches in my side. How much can I move before I damage the seams holding my hip together and keeping me from bleeding out all over the bed.

But — thankfully — I don’t have time to find out. Because before I can have a full meltdown, much like the one I already had upon waking up and finding myself stitched together like one of Prim’s old rag dolls, my husband’s stomp booms as he comes up the stairs, apparently taking them three at a time.

And I’ve never been so grateful for his gait. I’ve never been so grateful that he’s as loud as a bear on a wild chase.

I only wish we could be alone. I wish we could just have a moment to ourselves. But there’s still Enforcers in our hall, conferring quietly among themselves, with no end to their visit in sight. Actually, it’s not just the hall. There is still Enforcers everywhere on our property.

On our lawn, in our kitchen, on the porch, in the living room, the office, the backyard, down the road.

And especially in the spare room where I painted the floor scarlet with my blood. They’ve all been taking turns rotating in and out of that room for as long as I’ve been coherent.

One of the Enforcers — a younger male, who I haven’t had to personally speak to — attempts to stop Peeta as he rushes to get to me, his eyes dark and wild and intense.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” the young lawman says, his tone all business and detached. Like my near death experience is nothing but a bore to him. “This whole house is a crime scene. You can’t be in here-”

“She’s my wife,” Peeta simply states, as if that changes everything.

Because it does. To me and to him.

Because for as long as that handcrafted ring is on my finger, wherever I am, he belongs too. There’s nowhere I could be that Peeta wouldn’t follow. There’s nothing that could keep me away from him.

Read The Rest On AO3

[thatbxolivia]

christmas was usually not a time of year your daddy enjoyed. it was usually treated as just any other day and he really never bothered to explain why. you, however, absolutely adored the holiday, and for that reason alone, he was willing to indulge at least a little.

so there the two of you sat, on the floor, surrounded by ornaments. you were adding hooks to all of them so they could be neatly placed on the tree. you had picked a pink and black theme this year, and your daddy was happy to oblige your decoration request. you went for a cute/punk look and felt it was the perfect metaphor for the relationship you two shared.

“daddy, can you pass me more hooks?” you asked politely. your daddy hummed in response and handed you a few more. you thanked him and went straight back to work.

“are you having fun, kiddo?” he asked you, focused on the project at hand.

“i am, daddy!” you said, finishing the last ornament with your daddy soon following suit. “all done!” you danced lightly in your seat, excited to get to decorating.

“well, what are we waiting for?” your daddy asked, motioning towards the tree sitting in the corner. you squealed and picked up a handful of ornaments, immediately placing them on the tree. you didn’t have an exact map out of where you wanted every little thing, just a general finished look in mind. your daddy handed the ornaments to you as you placed them, knowing you wanted to do this part for yourself. he would reach the taller decorations when you couldn’t and would place them wherever you asked. soon enough, the tree had all of its ornaments, and all that was left were the lights.

“why don’t you let me handle this one?” daddy said, remembering the meltdown that ensued the year prior when you couldn’t get them untangled soon enough. you were embarrassed at the thought and agreed.

“okay, daddy.” you said softly.

“now, don’t sulk.” he told you, walking over and ruffling your hair slightly. “i’m just looking out for you, that’s all, baby.” he said. you nodded, watching as he expertly untangled the lights and threaded them through the tree branches. he plugged them in, and there sat your beautiful pink and black christmas tree with pink lights and a black bow tree topper. you were absolutely thrilled with your final result, and looked to daddy for approval.

“daddy, do you like it?” you asked hopefully.

“i love it.” he told you. “and you.”

you jumped with excitement and clapped, always loving the aesthetic of a lit up christmas tree.

“can i take my nap out here, daddy?” you asked politely, wanting to fall asleep to the lights. your daddy chuckled and nodded.

“if that’s what you want, go ahead, kiddo.” he said. you rushed and got ready for your nap, using the restroom and changing into comfier clothes and grabbing your stuffed bear, mr. honey. daddy had made a comfy spot for you on the couch and had your favorite pillow as well. you snuggled into the couch and he began tucking you in, laughing as you wiggled in and got comfy.

“thank you, daddy.”

“anything for you, princess.”

you remember dozing off to the faint pink light in the room as your daddy worked at his desk and knew you were safe.

[merakiui]

hi mera i reread your ceo azul fic and i still can’t get over how well-written it was…i even got an aha moment when i noticed some things that i missed in my first reading

ik there won’t be a sequel which is fine since you’re already writing a lot of other stuff at the moment , but i kinda remember you mentioned before that the fic originally had a smut scene but you omitted that cause it didn’t fit the vibe of the fic which i understand tbh

but i’m curious….kinda like a delete scene of a movie, would you share it if you have already written it? if not, would you share to what was your original idea of the smut scene? if you don’t want to, that’s okay!!!

Hiiii!! :D thank you so much for reading it!!!! I'm happy you enjoyed it!! <3 this ceo Azul is so obsessed... I loved writing his meltdown in that fic the most. Out of every Zuzu meltdown I've written, I think that one is the yummiest. So much emotion and manipulation (from darling) in that scene!!!!!

Aaaa yes!! The fic did indeed have a smut scene planned. 👀 I can happily share what it was going to be. While I didn't write it out, I still clearly remember what it was meant to be. Essentially, Azul was going to knock you up in the panic room-turned-nursery hehe. In the story, he locks you in the room by yourself and then goes off to give you space (which then leads into the meltdown once you wake hours later). But originally (before it was scrapped) he was going to drag you over to the bed and fuck you all while rambling (very delusional and obsessed) about how this will be good for you and him, how you just need time to warm up to this new life, how he's doing all of this for you, how you'll be a great mama to the baby.

But now that I'm dwelling on it, I like the idea of an Azul who can wait for you to gradually soften just enough to allow him to be intimate with you. A Stockholm Syndrome route! Soft, sweet lovemaking with your boss lover Azul. (๑-﹏-๑) hopefully in this unofficial sequel, Azul finally adds more life to the house because in my mind it is the most bleak modernist house to ever exist. orz he needs to put up some artwork or pictures or decorations so it feels less empty and more like a home for two (soon to be three because a baby will inevitably be on the way).

[hollyhomburg]

(tw: darkfic, angst, human trafficking, omegas are treated as pets, feral omegas, not really edited just word vomit) currently thinking about an au where omega’s are kinda treated as like- sub human compared to alphas and betas, mostly because the omegan population is so low and because after a mass die off (maybe a disease that only omegas could get? they’re low in number, high in demand, and pretty regulated.

 Because of this, there’s a fair amount of ‘omega protection’ services and a rampant underground of omega trafficking. To get approved for an omega placement is pretty impossible for most alphas unless they band together in packs and sort of combine their income. 

Imagine the m/c gets rescued from one of these illegal omega placement operations- not because of some sting operation or otherwise, but because she goes feral and like- literally rips an alphas throat out by their teeth. maybe the leader of the trafficking ring had taken too much of a liking to her and she took her chance. a story that breaks the news because omegas don’t go feral anymore.  

the government is at a loss with what to do with her, because there are so few people trained in turning feral omega’s docile again. She gets places with a pair of specialists in the omega health field, (Hobi and Yoongi maybe 🥺) who also happen to have a very extensive pack and even an omega of their own already who can teach the m/c how to be human again! and help her heal with lots of angst/tearful confessions. 

i imagine the first time they see her asleep in the nest room she falls asleep under it, burrowing into the smallest little ball in the corner, very nearly non-verbal accept for the occasional ‘no’ hissed. imagine omega jk who waltzes into the room, the very act of that having more freedom than she’s ever known, plopping down belly up literally without a word and turning on the tv in the corner. pointedly not looking at her to give her time to adjust to his presence without being scrutinized. 

i bet the first time any of the alphas are firm with him she hisses at them and flies into a bit of a rage and she gets scruffed for the first time by them and it causes a whole other meltdown and most of the trust they’ve built up to be eroded. 

but then thers another side to it, maybe it’s not the m/c whose the feral one but jin 🥺 whose omega kinda bonded with her in something called ‘false pup syndrome’ left for dead after a failed escape plan, found by some dark underground mob boss/pack- who of course fall in love with the feral omega and form a plan to find his pup 🥰 and hopefully woo him in the process <3 

[herejusttosufferalong]

This fandom is having a breakdown daily over the smallest and most inconsequential thing I swear.

Why is everyone having a meltdown about a troll account with 200 followers? Allowing it the in X spaces and giving them the time of day? That’s exactly what they want. All we need to do is report that profile because clearly the owner has an agenda or is just a disturbed person taking celeb stalking to a whole other level.

Also, everyone (me included mind you) is keeping an eye in R, S and A posts when we know they are craving attention and riding the coattails of L success. They will post stuff to drive engagement to their profiles and gain followers. Did anyone had to know they are at Brighton beach house? No, but they are doing things on purpose to mess with the fandom and in, my view to sabotage L image. They don’t want him becoming more successful and leaving them in the dust. Eventually he will realize it and hopefully put some distance there.

I think we need to take a step back and look at the bigger picture:

L & N clearly having romantic feelings for each other. Their 6 month promo tour is proof enough

L treating A as a FWB only. She can try to make it seem more serious than it is but his body language, actions or lack of are telling

L being a nice guy and good person as both N and JB told us multiple times

L being new to this level of fame and still learning (and making mistakes) in how to portray his public image

.